• bit/byte/bytes

Wish it had worked out lol


AshenveinGate
@AshenveinGate

"Excuse me?" I tilt my head, a gesture cultivated after a sister from deep-star reaches informed me that humans understand it to signify curiosity or, as in my case, confusion. The two-tone, sigil-studded lightning-torrents outlining my three-meter frame pulse orange and emerald, diverging from their customary Sulphur-blue.

The human, a diminutive creature who increasingly annoys me for some reason I struggle to place, flops a hand at me. "Well, just look at you."

My pentacle of blackfire eyes narrow. "Please be explicit. I do not share your frame of reference and cannot readily intuit your meaning."

I suspect I know perfectly well what they mean, but the same sister informed me that when humans are trying to advance stupid ideas without stating them explicitly, you need to trick them into admitting their real meaning before you can get anywhere. So I fold my brawny blood-red arms, and expand my iridescent neck-frills with a long-suffering sigh, and tap my flanged-mace tail on the tavern floor as I insist, "So? What do you mean, 'what else?'"

Agonizingly conscious of the numerous eyes now raptly fixed on our conversation, the human at last clears their throat and says, "Well, you must be a mix of different kinds of demon, right? You can't just be a succubus--"

As I lean slowly over the table, the wood creaking, then cracking and splintering from my muscular frame's merciless pressure against it, the human goes silent and begins to tremble. Slowly, my expression utterly calm, I hook my massive black sickle-talons upward through their leather vest and traveler's linens. Spirit-sinews flex in a red forearm studded by glittering black spines, my natural armor's articulated plates rasping and clacking as I haul my hapless conversation partner in close enough that each blue-fire breath from the back of my throat thickens the sheen of sweat glistening on their terrified features.

"Listen to me very carefully." The human nods so frantically it's a wonder they don't dislocate their own fragile neck. I smile slightly in approval and continue, "a succubus is a demon. Demons do not abide by mortal preconceptions. If you think that just because I'm not a dainty big-breasted femme, I'm somehow abnormal for a succubus, you've got a very rude awakening on your horizon."

I release them, leaning back in my creaking chair with my smile swiftly broadening as they pant and feel themselves, seeking reassurance my talons didn't leave any lasting damage. "And if you think my dainty big-breasted femme sisters are any less dangerous than I am?" I tilt my head again, this time curious--how will they react to this, I wonder? A terse tail-swipe smashes out their chair's legs in a flash, toppling them to the floor. I chuckle ember-tides as I stand up, step beside them, and whisper in their ear, "Then I just hope I get to be there the moment they flay you alive."

Just as they catch their breath enough to sit up, I clap their shoulder hard enough to send them sprawling right back to the floor. Then I saunter out, scooping a squealing tavern wench off her feet and tossing her over my shoulder as I go. I'll say this for the idiot tangled in the kindling-heap we leave behind: frustration like this always fuels some of my best sex-romps.


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