She sighed as she shuddered under the magnificent caresses; her womb burned pleasantly, as if a dance of sensations were swirling within her. A sigh was a simple thing, yet it was all she could offer as a reflection of such intense pleasure.
Tyris half-opened her eyes and saw a beautiful silhouette where obsidian and alabaster merged into a single image: a man with an intense gaze. His toned arms were the evidence of years of dedication and effort; she was held roughly by firm hands. It had been quite a while since she had yielded; she was no longer the one setting the pace of the creaking pleasure. A few words escaped her lips that even she couldn't hear, despite it being her own voice. But she saw the man smile. It was subtle, but it was there. And he looked at her with intense eyes that made her feel aflame.
Soon, she couldn't even exhale a sigh, for her lips were captured by those of the charming man; their tongues danced and their bodies collided. They remained that way for what could have been a long or short time—it was uncertain. But of one thing she was sure: after a long time, she felt that she wasn't just surviving, but truly living.
Time became increasingly muddled. At some point, the lewd sounds of their bodies colliding wetly stopped, giving way to silence. She didn't know where she was or what she was doing; she only understood that, in that moment, chasing the restorative warmth offered by that company was all she wanted. With that understanding, her exhausted eyelids gave in to a force she could not resist. Then, everything went dark.
XXX
A gentle breeze flowed from the window, she felt as if she were floating in a sea of tender and delicate caresses. The light touch of the Dream Realm's sun stretched across her closed eyelids signaling the arrival of a brave new day.
Her body, despite being exactly the same, felt different to her—perhaps a bit more alive. As if she had been rejuvenated by ten years; it had been a long time since she had felt this good. All the muscular tensions she carried, unaware of their existence, vanished, revealing how truly exhausted she had been.
Tyris felt completely renewed. Even the bed, which was already comfortable, seemed simply incomparable at that moment. She rolled over on the celestial mattress; her hand instinctively reached across the bed as if searching for something. She reached further and further, scouting the bed, but found nothing. All the tranquility and fullness she felt vanished in a heartbeat.
She snapped her eyes open and looked anxiously to her side, hoping someone would be there, but save for herself, the mattress was empty. She stared blankly at the empty side of the bed for several seconds. It felt inexplicably abnormal, as if something was missing that inherently should have been there. Then, like a waterfall, confused memories—like those of a past dream—poured over her consciousness. They were fuzzy, yet vivid enough to elucidate what she was remembering.
Tyris froze; she couldn't move a single muscle as the montage of memories flashed before her eyes. If she could have opened her eyes any wider, she would have, until they seemed ready to leap from their sockets. A chill ran down her spine, chasing away any trace of warmth left in her body.
Trying to break out of the stupor, she sat up quickly on the edge of the bed; her heart was pounding so hard she could hear her own pulse. She looked at herself. She observed her arms first; they were the same as always, but she felt something was different. She understood what didn't fit when her eyes traveled to her shoulders: there were marks. They were barely recognizable, but something had happened there—a bite mark. It wasn't the only one, but it didn't stop there.
On her breasts were smudges of color, just like on her shoulders, almost completely faded, but they were there, adorning the contour of her nipples and tracing a path to her neck from what she assumed were hickeys.
Finally, her eyes lowered to her crotch. There were dried traces of something on her legs; on her belly as well. No, there were traces all over her body, but they all led to one single place. Only upon spreading her legs did she notice the dampness there; she lowered her hand, touching her intimacy.
Her racing heart skipped a beat when she saw her fingers coated in a viscous, whitish substance—the same that was seeping from her vagina. She recognized immediately what it was, and not only that. She understood what was staining various parts of her; this was the irrefutable proof of the memories now weighing on her consciousness like an indelible stain.
She reached lower, felt a familiar circumference, gripped it between her fingers, and pulled. She trembled subtly as the plug slid out into her hands. She set it aside on the bed, trying not to look at it, as if by doing so, what happened might never have occurred.
She placed her hand over her heaving chest, right over her heart. Shortly after, she noticed thick beads of sweat trickling down her forehead.
'No... it can't be.'
Tyris tried to deny it, to imagine it was all a simple dream, but the evidence was there; she herself was the irrefutable proof of the wild night. Deep down, she understood the truth perfectly, and with every passing second, it became harder to pretend otherwise.
Contrary to what one might expect, her mind was strangely calm; in her thoughts, there was only the silhouette of a man with long, jet-black hair looking at her with profound desire. Tyris swallowed hard and shook her head, trying to snap back to herself. Several seconds passed while she remained inert, processing the memories.
Suddenly, she stood up abruptly. Sparks covered her body, taking the form of armor; before it had even finished manifesting, Tyris was already on the move. Hurriedly, she left the trashed room and turned through the hallways, avoiding looking at the places where she had caused destruction, focused solely on her path. Her chest sank with every step after remembering something critically important.
Tyris quickly reached her destination; with haste, she crossed the threshold of the dining room. She stopped to look at the messy place; swallowing the disgust swirling in her chest, she moved toward a specific spot. Tyris knelt down and took a delicate-looking face in her hands—one that was deeply asleep.
"Telle," she pronounced softly. Her calm and distant voice couldn't reflect the chaos raging inside her. She patted her daughter's face urgently; though she couldn't show her nervousness as she should, her frantic actions did it for her.
Telle's face crinkled slightly; Tyris watched as she squirmed and slowly opened her eyes. Tyris remained there, expectant.
"Ma... ma?" she murmured in a tired, disoriented tone.
Tyris saw Telle's eyes flutter lazily. Her face suddenly twisted in discomfort, and her hand flew to her head.
"Ouuw, ouw..." she groaned in pain.
"Telle," Tyris said again, softly.
The girl blinked a few times and then looked up; her eyes landed on her mother's face. For a few seconds, her golden pupils expressed nothing but confusion. But that changed quickly; with her eyes fixed on Tyris, her confused face began to turn into one of shock. Her eyes widened as if a truth had been revealed to her; her expression shifted to profound pain before settling into one of clear rejection. Her usually bright eyes turned somehow darker.
"Let go of me," she said in a low voice. She looked away from Tyris and pushed aside the hands that were holding her with concern.
"Telle," Tyris pronounced again, her voice unchanged.
"No... no. Why? You... Why did you do it?" The irritation in her voice was clear, almost tangible.
The questions weren't clear, yet Tyris understood perfectly what she wanted to know. Her chest sank; her tongue tingled. It felt as if she were protesting the idea of confrontation, refusing to speak.
"I didn't feel well," Tyris murmured in a low voice.
Tyris had unconsciously looked away; she didn't have the strength, or perhaps the nerve, to look her daughter in the face. Maybe it was the right decision, as she couldn't see the expression Telle made after she uttered those clumsy words.
"You didn't... feel well?" she stammered distantly, as if pronouncing something nonsensical. "Does... does that stupidity change anything?" Her tone shifted abruptly to a low growl of deep-seated rage.
Her daughter's questions hammered in her ears, and the resentment in her voice etched itself into her.
"Do you realize what you did to him? What you did to me? Answer... answer me! Why are you staying silent?" Telle had never been someone who expressed herself best with words; her tone of voice was similar to her mother's in a way. But at that moment, her voice was a window to her soul. She waited for an answer, a reaction. She was giving her the chance to say something, but with every passing second, she realized more clearly that the person in front of her simply wouldn't respond.
Telle tried to stand up; she wobbled and nearly fell again. Her legs were trembling, devoid of balance. She clutched her head with a wince of pain and let out another groan. Tyris reached out toward her daughter in worry. Her hand was about to touch her shoulder, but a voice thick with disgust stopped her.
"Don't touch me."
Tyris froze. For a brief moment, it felt as if the entire world had stopped; her breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat before coming to a standstill.
Her lips trembled; she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She felt an urgent need to say anything—from her chest rose a burning necessity to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to explain herself. A flood of words wanted to be expressed, but nothing emerged. It could have been an inability to find the words, or perhaps it was just the profound shame she felt. The fact was, she did nothing.
Telle stopped clutching her head and let her arm fall to her side. She also remained still for several seconds until she slowly turned her face toward her mother. Her usually beautiful and sweet face had tears on the verge of spilling over, but the worst part for Tyris wasn't that; it was the pain in her eyes—a pain of which she was the cause.
Telle wiped her tears with her forearm, turned around, and headed for the exit. Instinctively, Tyris began to follow her.
"Wait, listen to me." The desperation in her was growing, forcing her to say whatever she could. However, Telle did not stop to listen.
"Telle, please," she said with her usual indifference. "Let me explain."
Suddenly, Telle's firm stride halted, and without looking back, she answered shakily:
"Haven't you made everything clear already!? Did you think I'd just stay silent and that was it!? What are you even supposed to explain!?"
The last question swept every word from her mother's mouth. Tyris stood there; once again, she said nothing, but this time because she had nothing left to say.
Seconds passed, and Telle resumed her path. She took the door handle and pulled; just as she was about to leave, she paused in the doorway and said in a pained whisper:
"Please, don't talk to me anymore."
The door closed with a sound that resonated through the room like an echo. Then came the silence—one that was unbearable for Tyris, worse than any thunderous noise. She looked up and once again took in the disaster of the room: overturned chairs, fallen paintings, broken things scattered across the floor. Feeling lost, she walked to the nearest wall and let herself slide down, sitting on the floor.
"I ruined it," she murmured, expressionless.
She placed a hand on her chest, right over her heart, and looked at the ground. She felt as if a piece of her chest had been ripped out—or rather, she had ripped it out herself with her wild urgency to fill her void, only to leave an even larger one.
She couldn't shed a single miserable tear of regret; that hadn't been permitted for her for a long time. And in a way, even if she could, she didn't feel she deserved it.
Her other hand moved to her chest; with both hands over her heart, Tyris closed her eyes. She felt terrible; a lifetime's worth of sorrow and remorse had occurred in a single night due to her own greed and recklessness. It was clear she had earned this. But even so, none of it compared to her greatest weight.
Despite everything that happened and how things ended, her greatest regret was also her greatest comfort. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the vivid memories of a wild night; she felt warmth. A warmth she hadn't felt in a long time: the memory and the longing to be desired, to feel loved. Even though it clearly wasn't so.
The warm memory of her regret held her together so she wouldn't fall to pieces.
XXX
"Things didn't go well, I take it," Aiko said, casting a complicated look at Sunny, who sat in a corner.
The sun had been up for a considerable while; in a couple of hours, it would be noon, and they still hadn't opened. Sunny looked up at Aiko, who had an expression somewhere between worried and puzzled.
"Everything was worse than you can even imagine..." he murmured, drained of energy.
Aiko moved her lips to ask a question, but Sunny interrupted her before she could: —"I'd appreciate it if you didn't ask anything," he said somberly.
"I guess that's fine..." she said, staring fixedly at Sunny.
Sunny looked at the floor for a few seconds, ignoring the world for an instant. —'Staying still won't achieve anything,' he concluded—. He let out a sigh, shook his head, and finally stood up.
He walked toward Aiko, stopping right in front of her. He gave her a deep look, as if he were planning something; she, for her part, frowned, starting to feel somewhat pressured by his intense gaze. Sunny placed both of his hands on the confused Aiko's face and, before she could say a word, grabbed her cheeks, squishing them from side to side.
"Oww. Whad agh you duing?" Aiko complained.
"Nothing in particular, I just think doing this is fun, don't you? You have very squeezable cheeks." Sunny smiled slightly.
"No, no. Let me go," Aiko protested, grabbing the hands that were shaking her.
Sunny's smile grew more noticeable; he ignored her pleas for freedom for a few more seconds before letting go. —"Well, that made me feel better."
Aiko began rubbing her cheeks and shot him an annoyed look that dissipated after a sigh. —"Seems like you're in a better mood, so... what are you going to do? When I saw you lying there, I thought we'd have the day off."
Sunny's smile gradually faded as the moment of amusement dissolved. —"It'll be a normal day, I hope." —Without another word, Sunny walked past Aiko, heading for the kitchen door. Before entering, he turned around and said:
"Could you handle the front today? I'll be in the kitchen; I have a few things to think about."
"That's what I always do..." Aiko murmured, still massaging her cheeks.
Sunny stepped through the door, took a deep breath, and headed to the pantry, preparing to get the day's supplies ready. He did a superficial count of what was missing while simultaneously evaluating recipes for the day. Part of his brain had focused entirely on work, forgetting everything else. One part was certainly calm; the other, however...
'What the hell am I going to do?' —The other part was dealing with far more complicated thoughts.
'Damn it, damn it all. EVERYTHING went wrong... Fuck, all of this happened because I let myself get carried away. Why does it seem like I have less and less self-control? What happens from now on? And... what am I going to tell Telle?'
A storm of questions and doubts formed in his mind, all fueled by guilt and anxiety.
'How could this even happen? I slept with Tyris... Fuck! I slept with my girlfriend's mom! And what will she think? Gods... she was drunk out of her mind, maybe that's what led her to act like that. But even so, I was the sober one. Shit, shit. And now, when she wakes up, what will she do? She could come confront me, saying I took advantage of her. Oh gods, I'm ruined...'
On the outside, Sunny appeared calm; in that moment, he was whisking a bowl while other hands made of shadows chopped on a cutting board. But on the inside, he was having the most intense mental debate with himself to date.
A couple of hours had passed since he decided to continue his day as normal; there was little else he could do but wait for the consequences to catch up. Fleeing Bastion with his tail between his legs to avoid the conflict was out of the question, but he certainly considered it more than once as a last resort for survival. If Tyris was truly as angry as Sunny assumed, he might only be safe outside the jurisdiction of the King of Swords; even then, he wasn't sure if he could escape her.
The only alternative left was simply to wait and see what happened. He was limited to being a spectator of his own misfortune.
An egg in his hand cracked, crushed. Sunny looked at his hand for a few seconds and let out a weary sigh. He threw the rest of the egg away and washed his hand.
'Can I really fake being calm? Maybe I should close for today... No, just calm down; whatever is going to happen will happen. I already ruined it, just don't expect anything positive. Assume everything with Telle is ruined and she hates you to death. Better to keep expectations low... just get through your day. What's the worst that could happen?' —Despite his conclusion, he kept circling back to certain thoughts.
Sunny took a seat and stared for a few seconds at a bowl full of apples. He took one and prepared to peel it with a knife formed from shadows. He could have perfectly generated a pair of extra arms for the task, but strangely, he decided to peel them one by one without any rush. Mental fatigue? Maybe. But he might also just be killing time to evade reality; he only knew for sure that this made him feel calm.
Several minutes passed while he peeled apples. The anxiety and uncertainty he had started the day with had been calming down; they were still there like a spot on his retina, but Sunny could now try to cope with them better. Sunny picked up an apple that stood out from the rest—not for its size, but for its color. The vivid hue made him feel nostalgic; he stared at it, trying to remember what it was that made him feel that way. Then, a clear memory hit him.
It was the face of a woman; her eyes were narrowed, looking at him, her expression peaceful, almost indifferent. But he knew very well that wasn't the case, as he was the reason she was trembling. Her arms were stretched out at the side of the bed, her body looking like a work of art. Then, a soft whisper came from her unmistakably beautiful red lips:
"Sun... shine."
The apple Sunny was holding exploded under the thundering pressure of his fist.
'Maybe I really should close today after all.'
Sunny's mood plummeted; his expression soured and he let out a tired sigh. He had done well so far, trying to convince himself he could ignore how he felt, but clearly, the truth caught up with him. But before he could dwell on fatal possibilities, a voice sounded behind him.
"Hello," said a small voice.
Sunny froze for an instant, but before even a second had passed, he had already leaped from his chair, spinning around toward the intruder. Upon recognizing who it was, he paralyzed again. The intruder waved her hand friendly with a grin from ear to ear.
"It's been a while, Master Sunless."
Sunny's expression turned tense and nervous. Cold sweat began to bead on his skin.
'No, please not now, not today.'
"Did the mouse get your tongue, Master Sunless? Why are you looking at me like that? It's not like I'm going to want to cut it out." She laughed enchantingly. But to Sunny, those words sounded enchantingly dangerous.
A face that was sweet yet commanded respect; long brown hair and deep blue eyes. Sunny fought the urge to make a grimace.
"Princ—" —he bit his tongue— "L-lady Moira."
"That's me," she replied immediately.
Sunny swallowed all his mental turmoil at once. —"I didn't expect to see you today... if you'll excuse me, may I ask what you're doing here?"
"The waitress let me in a few minutes ago," Morgan said matter-of-factly.
"I didn't mean that, I mean... never mind... Wait, did you say that a few minutes ago?"
Morgan nodded. "Exactly."
"And how long have you been here?" The bewilderment in his voice was increasingly palpable.
"Since a few minutes ago," she replied without her smile wavering.
Sunny stared at Morgan, not knowing what to think. Lately, not knowing what to do was becoming the rule rather than the exception.
'What the hell is she doing here now?' At that question, a chain reaction of memories assaulted his mind—specifically, him and a vulnerable Morgan in his arms. —'Ah, that's why... she's come to kill me to erase witnesses.'
In Sunny's mind, there was no other reason for her to be here. But then again, there was also no reason to greet him cordially. If her intention had been to kill him, he'd probably be headless by now. He had been so distracted he didn't even hear her enter, and she had stood watching him for, as she said, "several minutes."
'Why did she watch me for several minutes!?' he thought, alarmed.
Sunny was pulled from his thoughts by a small laugh that echoed enchantingly through the kitchen. He had been so lost in thought that Morgan had moved closer than necessary, entering his personal space. Once again, his senses failed to alert him of the danger.
"Your face is dirty."
Sunny had to lift his head slightly to see Morgan's face. It seemed to him that her smile grew wider the closer she got. He watched as she reached into a bag he had only just noticed; from it, she pulled an elegant-looking handkerchief. Morgan reached out and wiped Sunny's face, right where the bits of the exploded apple were.
'Ah.' Dumbfounded, Sunny realized why his instincts had failed. He was dangerously distracted, sure, but his senses would have alerted him to danger. They didn't because he was never in danger.
Finishing with his face, Morgan tucked the handkerchief back into her bag. She gave him a look that was half-amused, half-puzzled before saying:
"Why did you blow up that apple? I doubt it did anything to deserve that end," she said teasingly.
Sunny was once again speechless; ever since Morgan touched his face, his brain had short-circuited. Under the pressure, his lips moved on their own:
"I was... thinking about a naked woman," he said in a low voice, but audible to Morgan.
Absolute silence followed his answer. Morgan's face went blank and her smile vanished. Both stared at each other in complete silence. Another wave of cold sweat began to cover Sunny's body.
"Haha..." —Then a soft giggle sounded like a gentle breeze. That giggle turned into a laugh she could hardly contain. Morgan brought her fist to her mouth and took a step back, doubling over with laughter.
To Sunny's eyes, Morgan had to lean against one of the tables. —"Ha... you... haha... you're good at catching me by surprise." —She took a few breaths to fully compose herself. —"Well, maybe those kinds of thoughts make you crush apples somehow; I'll take that into consideration... but leaving that aside, I'd like to talk to you." —Morgan smiled with an ironic expression. —"Let me buy you a coffee; I know a very nice place right through this door here. Care to join me?"
Morgan turned around and walked toward the dining room door without waiting for his answer. Sunny stared straight ahead, completely stunned. He wasn't even going to try to find logic in things anymore.
'It's going to be a long day, isn't it?'