(Kairliina, higher pitch)

The esteemed listener is reminded that the Analogue Ruins podcast does not contain content warnings. Please stop listening immediately, and look to your own mental health if at any point you feel discomforted. No story is worth sacrificing your well-being.

Episode Fourteen: On Razor Winds I’ll Send my Kiss

(Aekarii)

The morning after my tryst with Enrazhug, if it really is morning, finds me speaking to Moonsilver about this epiphany I’ll call “rest,” and the discovery that Metronome House actively protects us. A sister to the core, she also immediately disintegrates into tears. When the flow ebbs enough to speak, she straightens herself on the dining table between us and rubs away the silvery streams from her eyes.

(Moonsilver, still sniffling)

“Well… I guess we’ve really made it out, huh? No rent, no food and medical expenses, no work. Maybe it really is worth it… so, um. I’ve been thinking too. I want to talk to more, well, more monsters. More otherkin, like us. Not for a higher purpose. I just want to share in their stories, if they’re willing. What always drew me to activism was the chance to meet others and know of their lives, y’know? I’d like to start by learning yours. As much as you’d like to tell me.”

(Aekarii)

“I’m happy to share! To know another’s life is to know something of their soul. I feel the same.”

(Moonsilver)

“Is that a succubus thing?”

(Aekarii)

Danger! Danger and fear. Any innocent question can unearth such things when succubi are involved. So I brush my muzzle and lick my chops, playing out the worst of my anxiety before I answer.

“It can be. There are many different kinds of succubi, incubi, concubi, and whatever other -ubi you wish to speak about. As a taershan…”

I pause to allow the bloom of violet auras to rise up: images of smirking and slutty horned figures caressing ourselves, pushing forked tongues between the V-notches of upthrust fingers, riding prone figures and clawing them in the throes of our ecstasy. Touches that raise searing glows under supple skin, moaning mouths drinking energies like fire, like light, like the freely-given streams of the iridescent waters of the font of life.

Churning and dreamy melt-mind bubbles up from my belly. Amber rays illuminate veins and bones beneath obsidian skin, brightening and swirling, until a flash, a pulse, a crackle of blue-white fire blazing at the fringes of blood-red hair. I’m just two horns, now, the large low pair curving downward around my face like inverted bull’s horns. Each dark glittering blue, etched with glowing mazework lines. Just two eyes, each blood red with a black reptilian pupil ringed with golden fire like an eclipse.

I stretch an amber-skinned leg out to the side, pushing it through the slitted side of my blue satin gown, and arch my back at the instinctive surge that turns a human foot into a single elegant hoof. The other follows suit and I lapse into perpetual lust. My wings fold tight against my back, all stained-glass shards in crystal frames, all aquatic blues and sunset hues. I’m a couple of inches shorter, markedly wider in the hips and thicker at the breast… oh, how I’ve missed shaping myself this way.

(Kiresa, like she’s sinking into a hot bath)

“Ahhhh… that’s so much better… now Ashy’s ready to talk about the abyssal siblings.”

(Moonsilver, with great effort—sounds like somebody’s struggling to focus~)

“Different forms for different purposes?”

(Kiresa)

I’d all but forgotten how easy it’s supposed to be. I’m boiling over with lust, so horny my heartbeat thunders like a nightmare ride. Golden love-liquid spills out of my blood-red pussy so thick and fast. My fingers move on reflex, claws turning incorporeal yet still delivering wakes of electric jolting right into my silky slut-crevice. Reflex! That’s the word I’ve been looking for all these years! I want sex to be a reflex, a reaction as natural as oil kissed by flame! I’m so stupid, I’m such a dumb hopeless whore. Taershan succubi don’t have to try to be too horny to think. We just have to give up and let ourselves revert to our natural state.

Moonsilver’s as wide-open to my influence as I’d have guessed: those pretty golden pupils dilate in the pink-fire depths of her sclerae, and she stares, already trembling, while I finger myself underneath my gown.

“I used to explain it that way when I was afraid I’d be mocked if I shapeshifted for fun. We’ll unpack all that as we go, hm? For now, just know you can call me Kiresa when I look like this. All my names are for the benefit of others, of course. In my own head I’m just ‘succubus.’”

(Moonsilver)

“A s-slut beyond names, huh?”

(Kiresa, teasing and with a distinct predatory growl)

“Exactly… oh, look at you squirm! I can taste your lust, sister. Getting distracted?”

(Moonsilver)

“D-do we always make people feel like this?”

(Kiresa)

She seizes one glorious blue breast in tensing fingers and rubs her nipple, desperately, while her tail slithers through the smoke of her gown and sets to work.

(Moonsilver, giggling, manic)

“T-they’re going to rape us in the street!”

(Kiresa)

“That’s the idea! When you’re ready, your essence will boil over and drive everyone you meet mad with lust… unless, of course, you remember to take the edge off by getting off. Every time you cum, you get a grace period.”

I rest my cheek against my palm, grinning while I watch my lovely sister squirm.

“It lasts about half an hour, give or take some minutes. The more you cum between waking up and falling to sleep, the shorter that grace period gets.”

(Moonsilver)

“Shorter?”

(Kiresa)

“Yep! Don’t worry. I know it sounds like a lot right now, but you’ll get used to it faster than you expect.”

(Moonsilver)

“I… I think I can… c-can live with that… Kiresa, please, you’re going to kill me!”

(Kiresa)

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Need any help?”

(Moonsilver)

“Please!”

(Kiresa)

That’s all the invitation I needed! I scamper out of my chair, work underneath the table, and slide my arms up Moonsilver’s soft calves until they reach her thighs. She smells of rain from cloudy skies, of maple, but most of all she’s rich with the fleshy scents of sex and desire. The smoke of her gown is briefly solid as I nuzzle my nose into it, soft and fluffy like a heated pillow, before it dissipates and leaves me with the soaking swells and hollows of her hot pink pussy.

This is the only real me: this blood-red tongue trailing out of blood-red lips, and the delicious flavors it discovers in the steamy secretions trickling down its forks to coat its length. These long clever fingers working in tandem with mischievous staring eyes. I love to see how the other succubus responds to a tracing touch over this divot in her vulva, how she squirms and moans and breathes heavier when I tease her clit out of its hiding place.

Lazy, toying licks first: lapping up and looping around. Moonsilver doesn’t need me to warm her up any further, and that’s exactly why she needs me to warm her up further: until she writhes, until she squeals, until the tremors that begin here between her legs have grown so strong that they march up her spine and rattle her head hard enough I can see it shaking.

(Moonsilver)

“Kiresa, please! I’m serious, I’m so horny I’m gonna die!”

(Kiresa)

“Oh? Well, let’s see if I can end you a little faster.”

And I plunge in up to the lips. Double-touch triggers on instinct, mapping lines of paranormal power flowing under my sister’s skin. I feel the rippling networks of her pleasure-centers like a second self. Her taste is sweet plus a little sour, a little acidic in just the right ways. She tastes raw and visceral and full of lust, so full that I’d be fingering myself faster even without the feedback loop of our feelings opening to each other. She tastes real. She tastes like a fellow succubus.

All those mortals are so full of it! Why would we go out of our way to seduce them when we can spend eternity seducing each other?

Forget that, Kiresa. Forget the pretenses and the frustration and the shame, and give yourself to your purpose. I surrender to the heat of Moonsilver’s contracting depths and the intoxicating rivers of her pleasure. Greedy senses wash out everything else with the pressure of her legs closing behind a red-haired head, sealing a blue-horned, amber-skinned slut in a cocoon of humid delight, a sexual sauna. Tongue-coils push deeper until their twisted lengths find that special spot, and then assault it with both forks: relentless, endless licking to deepen the arch of my sweet sister’s back.

(Moonsilver)

“Yes, yes, yes! Right there, just a little more, I--!”

(Kiresa)

Lust condenses and surges out of me, channeling itself down both my arms: one tide pushing deep, deep, deep into my pussy, and the other into Moonsilver’s, and when climax comes it’s so final that neither of us can even manage to moan. We tighten against each other. Moonsilver cums down my throat and crushes me tight to her opening with her thighs. My legs give out so all I can do is hang, helpless, still drinking her pleasure-nectar as a simple side-effect of my mouth hanging open while I darken the carpet with stream after stream of golden cum.

When our heads clear, she lets her legs go limp, and I promptly crack the back of my head against the edge of my table as I start to sit up.

(Angry, but amused)

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Why do I never see that coming? Ow…”

(Moonsilver, teasing)

“Aw, poor sister… she’s all cum-drunk, she hardly knows where she is!”

(Kiresa)

She rubs the sore spot fondly, and slouches in her chair with a satisfied, ditzy grin.

(Gentle)

“I hope that wasn’t too much. I have to let myself be what I am, but I’m fine with you setting boundaries. You have to, right?”

(Moonsilver)

“Yeah. You’re all good, though! That was fantastic, and… and liberating! I was worried some of the ways I’ve acted recently were too much, yet that felt so right. I want more of it! I mean, in due time.”

(Kiresa)

I smile, nod, and haul myself back to my chair as I slip fully back into lust-drunk dreaminess. Moonsilver notices, her brows going up.

(Moonsilver)

“I thought you said we get a half-hour grace period.”

(Kiresa)

I dig my fingers right back in and continue playing with myself.

“Oh, we do! That just means we don’t generate the overpowering, compulsory lust that makes us chase… orgasm squared, I suppose? Fully awoken taershan succubi exist in a state of perpetual climax. Masturbation and sex let us make it even more intense, potentially pushing it far enough to burn ourselves out for a short time. That’s all the grace period is: reduced horny levels.”

A strange, fey gleam enters my sister’s eyes as she listens. Her lips part in a hungering smile.

(Moonsilver)

“That’s normal? And we can function like that? Experiencing everything through a veil of relentless lust?”

(Kiresa)

“Yep!”

(Moonsilver)

“I want that. I can hardly wait!… but I guess it’ll happen in its own time, huh?”

(Kiresa)

“Exactly! So, as I was saying earlier, this is one of my personal forms. Pure indulgence. The way I really like to be.”

(Moonsilver)

“The way a taershan likes to be?”

(Kiresa)

My answer has to wait, because my tail whisks in front of me and I see the new growth: an out-turned crescent moon of lapis lazuli, with a globe of condensed dreams hovering between its points. I’m so beautiful… how do I function when I’m so beautiful?

Sister asked me a question, though, so I do want to try to answer.

“Just so. They call us dream-thieves, soul-eaters, whores of chaos. We’re the archetypal succubi. The scum-sluts. The ones that manifest uninvited in the bedrooms of strangers and try to fuck their souls out. Does that resonate?”

(Moonsilver)

“Yeah, that feels like me. So, you’re saying I’m a taershan succubus?”

(Kiresa)

“Are you a dysfunctionally-horny demon slut with abyssal origins and an affinity for love, lust and dreams? Special emphasis on lust, of course.”

(Moonsilver)

“Well, we both saw how I reacted to everything you just showed me. I want it. It feels right. Taershan… yeah, that feels nice. Thank you, sister. I’ve been wondering about the whole abyssal versus infernal thing. Is that, um…”

(Kiresa, first reassuring, then wistful)

“There’s no infinite war, and Hellish demons are not a bunch of pompous rules-obsessed jackasses that love using their authority to torture each other. The rivalry between the Hells and the Abyss is just a big teasing contest, at least most of the time. Now, I need to caution you about something: I’m a daughter of chaos, born of the Abyss. Ask me the same question three times, and I’ll give you three different answers, that…”

I fold my wings around myself, taken by surprise at the rush of comfort and belonging that fills me. I finish my thought.

“… that feels right. It makes me happy.”

As I speak I relax. Sinking into visions of a black star shining on black sands that glitter like diamond dust. An endless dark and rolling ocean kisses the shores of coastal flats, and gently-rolling island hills, that wander forever away toward a horizon they never quite reach. Promises of Escherian bordellos and labyrinths of squirming flesh, of off-angle cities with spatially-jumbled districts of glossy metal and dark mirror-stone. And the wilderness! Such a playground of adventure and lust… I want to go home…

The joy of my visions and the deep yearning to chase them bring a pang to my heart, and fresh tears to my eyes. But I promised Moonsilver I’d help her, and I keep my promises to my kindred. One last quest. One last vow to fulfill. Then, finally, freedom.

For now, I speak on.

“The Abyss is a dreamland, a mutating eternity of pure, roiling, beautiful chaos! Someone can cherry-pick a region where it’s nothing but malice, lies, and murder all day long. But for every horror, it contains a wonder. That’s chaos for you. Take it or leave it, but it will be what it will be.”

(Moonsilver)

“That doesn’t sound bad at all. That sounds nice. It sounds like home.”

(Kiresa)

“It is. Nice, and home, for demons likes us. No demon lords, either. Abyssal demons are natural-born anarchists. If anybody tries to put themselves above us, we immediately rush to pull them down.”

My breathing deepens as I talk about it, and the ever-sweltering ecstasy pooling in my cunt spikes to a delicious burn. No gods, no masters, and no damned systems either! It’s everything I want! It turns me on so much to think of it: the pure, unbridled chaos!

(with self-indulgently sexual delivery)

“There are many layers and nuances. But sister: we’ll share plenty of plunges into the Abyss. We can explore all this, and so much more, as we dig deeper.”

(Moonsilver)

“I can hardly wait!”

(Kiresa)

I stop speaking for a moment to watch her squirm, see her tail frisking. Death and sin, she’s so cute I want to eat her out all over again!

“Now, what I said about cherry-picking… to understand the taershanat, you need to understand that the Catholic Church did sometimes practice real demonology. We’re the demons they cherry-picked to prove that all demons are malicious, ruinous, and deceitful.”

(Moonsilver)

“Oh. That explains a lot.”

(Kiresa)

“It’s not all bad. They omitted all our better traits. Our love is alien, but true. We’re wonderful to our friends and lovers, or at least, much better than most humans manage to be. That said, I politely refuse to talk to you about most of our nature right now. I’ve been a fully-awoken succubus for thirty-two years. You’ve only been lucid, what, a week?”

(Moonsilver)

“So you’re not a decade older, you’re only seven years older—wait. You’ve been fully-awoken since you were a baby.”

(Kiresa)

I grin with an agony of embarrassment.

“Short answer: yes. It was exactly as awkward for the grown-ups that raised me as you think it was. Please never bring this up again.”

My sister physically recoils, so stricken that her skin loses color and gains brightness until it briefly becomes silvery gray.

(Moonsilver)

“Agreed!”

(Kiresa, hurriedly)

“Anyway, yes, all my taershanat lore! It’d be way too much for you take in at once. Also, I’ve only just started putting pieces together and exploring myself, so I don’t want to feed you false leads.”

(Moonsilver)

“So we’ll get to find out together what being a taershan is? I like that even better.”

(Kiresa, brightening)

“Yeah! For now, let’s go with this: the only thing you should assume when you meet a demon that calls herself succubus, incubus, or whatever else is that she likes those words. Just personal preference, not gender or sex position or anything else. If there are other shared traits, we’ll learn them as we go. Taershan is our word. I made it for us. That’s the one where we’ll be detailed and in-depth.”

She straightens in her chair as I speak, pondering.

(Moonsilver)

“I like that. I like that a lot!”

(Kiresa)

“Feels freeing, right? As for the rest, think about your transformation. The moment you stopped trying to be something else, you awoke to yourself as a taershan. Stand by that. Give up trying to be something other than a taershan, surrender to your true nature, and you’ll keep growing.”

(Moonsilver)

“I can still ask you for guidance, right, and to help me explore what I discover?”

(Kiresa)

“Of course! I’m only withholding what I know so I don’t ruin your ride. Discovering things for yourself is such a huge part of an abyssal demon’s euphoria. It doesn’t matter if they’re old hat to someone else. They’re still new to you. And that? That’s precious. That’s everything.”

(Moonsilver, fervent)

“Thank you, Rays. Truly.

(Kiresa, bubbly, winding down to earnest)

“My pleasure, maershal! Oh, that’s Vulshiir. It means a sibling in lust. A sister-succubus, in our case. As for my story… I’m willing to share, but not today. Yesterday was wonderful. Today has been wonderful. Let’s take things as they come, alright? I’m proud that I’m still here. I love what I am. But my past is heavy, heavy stuff. None of it can come back to bite us, so there’s no rush to tell you.”

(Moonsilver)

“Of course! It means a lot that you’d even explain your reasons. You don’t owe me that, either.”

(Kiresa)

She’s so good to me. It still floors me how we can be so good to each other, my maershalat and I, after everything we’ve been through.

(Kiresa, tearful)

“Thank you, Silv. Thank you so much!”

I hurry around the table and pull her into a hug. Moonsilver returns it fiercely, warmth and love flowing between us in mingling streams of blue and pink fire. It occurs to me as I pull away that there’s one thing I feel an urge to speak about. So when I return to my chair, I tap on my horns while I gather my thoughts.

(Clearing her throat)

“There is one thing, actually. When I died, I lost one set of memories. I became lucid to the other set, the ones I’ve mentioned about my life as a succubus, and my demonic heritage.”

(Moonsilver)

“I don’t understand. Why would dying purge your memories? And if you’re only thirty-two, how do you have two different sets of memories?”

(Kiresa)

“Good questions! Simple answer first: I refuse to tell you how I have two sets because that’s part of my past. We’ll come to that when we come to that. As for memory-loss on death? The nature of our old home universe only lets the supernatural manifest in ways that can be dismissed as something else: a hallucination, a coincidence, a weird feeling…”

(Moonsilver)

“Mental illness. Yeah. I’d figured that part out myself. Trial, error, and lots of despair.”

(Kiresa, sober)

“Yes. Well, sad truth is our mortal memories are fused with that reality’s fabric. Our flesh and brains, the molecules of the vessels we used to experience life? All part of that universe. When we die, those memories vaporize. Our identity persists. When I encounter foods I learned to like from my time on Earth, my emotions react. I know I’ll like those foods. Same way I know I’m from Earth: unexplained feelings and urges stirred up by hearing about it.”

(Moonsilver)

“And this happens to everyone who leaves that reality by dying, not just demons?”

(Kiresa)

“Absolutely everyone, yes. Gods used to be able to offer humans an escape through some complicated paranormal loopholes, power of belief stuff. But things changed.”

(Moonsilver)

“So... why do I remember everything?”

(Kiresa)

“Probably because you got incredibly lucky. You crossed over with your inherited meatsack, right?”

(Moonsilver)

“Yep!”

(Kiresa)

“There are places where that reality grows thin. They used to be more common, but human science grew, and made it easier to see more nooks and crannies. That closed more and more of those holes. Now that reality’s collapsed… hm. Maybe the hole you walked through was new.”

I allow her a few seconds to contemplate that quietly before I stretch, yawning.

“That’ll do it for me today. Chatting’s all well and good, but the best way to learn about each other is to get out there and do things together.”

(Moonsilver)

“That’s fair! You’ve already told me so much, and hell, I could use some time to process it. Thanks for opening up to me. I really like you.”

(Kiresa)

“Feeling’s mutual! Hm… yeah! I’ll be willing to train you, eventually. ‘til then I want you to rest, too. I suspect you and I have the same bad habit of using our work ethic to escape our feelings. Sooner or later we trip, and everything hits us at once right when we’re too exhausted to handle it.”

(Moonsilver)

“… the next few weeks are going to suck, aren’t they?”

(Kiresa)

“Yes. But when it’s done, you’ll feel happier. Maybe even whole again. I’ll be here to help you ride out your feelings when I’m not grappling with my own. It’s time I stopped trying to do things, at least for a few months.”

(Moonsilver)

“Sounds like a plan. Hue seems pretty well-connected. I’ll ask if she can put some feelers out, start finding the girls of my old coven, so we’ll know where to go by the time I’m ready.”

(Kiresa)

The stillness sharpens. Moonsilver’s bubble-gum pink fires, her matching scales, and her deep blue skin and horns all fade into varying stained grays.

(Moonsilver, downcast)

“It’s gonna get a lot worse on Earth.”

(Kiresa)

“It doesn’t matter. We both need to rest, recover, and grow before we’ll be ready to help anyone.”

We lapse into silence, each feeling at last that we’ve said all we wished to say. After a few more minutes my lust comes boiling back up, and I transform the crescent moon and globe of dreams into a blue-crystal sheath on my amber coils. A few minutes with the vibrating, electrified bulges of my tail fucking my pussy are enough to give me my second hyper-orgasm.

I’m still moaning out the last few quakes of delight when a small knock at the door startles us out of our stupor. We look to each other, I nod, and Moonsilver raises her voice.

(Moonsilver)

“Enter!”

(Kiresa)

And she does, while I return my tail to its normal state: a short succubus with immense breasts, a bob of silky black hair, and red-orange skin with the sheen and texture of latex. Slitted green eyes, four red-orange horns—two hooking back above her head, two curled down around her ears like a ram’s horns—and a thick frisking tail topped by a lovably stereotypical spade. I’m familiar with Hannah Schumacher by reputation.

(Hannah)

“Oh… we haven’t met before, ma’am.”

(Kiresa)

“Ooh, hey, that feels nice! Very respectful.”

(Clears throat)

“Kiresa Virneh. It’s good to meet face to face, Hannah.”

(Hannah)

“Oh. Moonsilver’s told you about me, then?”

(Kiresa)

“More like I’m a supernatural voyeur, sucking essences out of the ether so I can feast on stories. Just what’s public, your clinic and the outside details about your relationship with Merovingia and Carrie. But still, I’ll understand if you’d rather steer clear.”

(Hannah)

“No, that’s, uh… coming from another succubus, it’s weirdly flattering.”

I offer her my hand. She shakes it, with fingers so loose and limp they nearly slide out of mine, then slumps into an open seat. Green eyes contemplate the platters of pastries on the table, and the coffee, but ultimately choose not to partake. Hannah turns her gaze and her voice to Moonsilver.

(Hannah)

“I’ve made my choice. I’m gonna stay here with you. I don’t want to talk about why right now, if that’s okay.”

(Moonsilver)

“Of course. I’m sorry, Hannah.”

(Hannah)

“Don’t be. Somehow, we’ve gotten to a place where nothing that’s happening is your fault.”

(Kiresa)

She pauses, licks her fangs, and then throws her hands up.

(Hannah)

“Oh, fuck it, how can I not talk about it?! I’ve talked to lots of people about what Carrie and Mero have been up to, and I hate everything I’ve heard. I don’t know where Mero gets off trying to tell everyone that you’re not succubus. That’s not her decision to make. Worse than that, she’s claiming you’re just a human witch pretending to be a demon.”

(Moonsilver, incensed)

“What? How?! What is she fucking on? She saw me transcend my human form in a giant shockwave of pure demonic power! What else does she fucking want from me?”

(Hannah, quiet)

“I don’t think it matters what you do. She’s decided you can’t be a demon because she doesn’t like you, and she only wants to share her identity with people she likes. I’m sorry.”

(Kiresa)

Silv taps her claws on the table, glowering.

(Moonsilver)

“Bah! Forget her! What, I’m supposed to let her dictate my life to me because she’s older? I’m not looking to swap an abusive human mother for an abusive demonic one.”

(Kiresa)

“Much as my greedy abyssal brain hates sharing, there’s no need to be territorial. ‘Taershan is a subclass of succubus.’ There. Six words that let us call ourselves succubi without implying that every succubus shares our nature. Problem solved. As for Merovingia? Her presence feels verdant, that fertile forest stirring. I bet you anything she was born a woodland spirit, then became a demon later.”

(Moonsilver)

“That tracks. Essentialism and hypocrisy go hand in hand.”

(Kiresa)

Silv hugs herself, eyes downcast. Hannah takes it upon herself to change the subject.

(Hannah)

“Are you a succubus from birth, ma’am?”

(Kiresa)

“I am, and my origin does matter. It makes me happy to remember my demon-mothers and my heritage. But it matters more what we choose, and what we become.”

(Moonsilver)

“What, um… what do you think about my origin, though? Where I started helps me to understand how I got where I am. That helps me to understand where I’m going. I want to know.”

(Kiresa)

I nod towards Moonsilver.

“From what I know, your struggles sound like what I’d expect from a natal succubus summoned into a human body shortly after her soul was born—an infant of one species, immediately experiencing second birth as an infant of another.”

Moonsilver’s eyes widen. Agonized lines etch themselves into her face. Her too, huh?

Her flames blaze over to blacken the wallpaper behind her, to set fire to her chair and the table-cloth and most of the pastries on her side of the table. Her talons clamp to the burning surface, gouging in, rending pink-fire trenches and snapping component planks.

My maershal’s razor teeth glitter in a terrible snarl as the shadows in the dining room grow darker and denser still, ‘til the candles around us are only small and quavering pinpoints, and my sister is a ghastly configuration of raging slitted eyes and a maw full of abyssal fire. The coffee boils in its carafe, hissing and popping, and the glowing embers in the burning table illuminate drifting ashes from our swiftly-disintegrating breakfast.

(Moonsilver, through her fangs)

“Millennium child… greatest act of witchcraft… and when I asked about demons, she had the fucking gall to deny me my birthright!? That insignificant smear! That festering, hapless accident of a misbegotten cosmos! Deceiver, usurper, betrayer! Thief! Thief! THIEF! I’ll tear her throat out with my teeth! I’ll boil her guts before her eyes—no, I’ll let infection and rot finish the job, because when I find Sylphira Dawson I’m going to chain her in the deepest fathom of the Abyss and flay her alive!”

(Kiresa)

Rage passes, the shadows retreat, and the abyssal inferno gutters out. Moonsilver reels in her seat as she returns to her senses. She immediately hides in her hands, conceals herself beneath the tent of her wings, and begins to weep.

(Moonsilver)

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I don’t want to be like this, I don’t want to be this person again…”

(Hannah, firm)

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Your mom fucked you over. It’s okay to be angry about that. Carrie’s told me a lot about magic and rituals, so I know your mom must’ve cast a really wide net with her spell if she managed to summon a baby demon. If she’d been even a little specific, you wouldn’t have felt drawn to be born as her child, because you were too young to have a specific identity.”

(Kiresa)

She approaches, and wraps her arms around Moonsilver’s shoulders. I slip out of my chair to join them, channeling a cool torrent of dark waters from strange reaches to douse the lingering flames all through the ruined dining room.

“We understand. Every demon carries the rage inside, and your mother deserves the full inferno. It’s okay to apologize, but you don’t have to. Trans succubi stick together.”

(Moonsilver, blubbering)

“B-but I’m not…”

(Kiresa)

I ease away, taking her by the shoulders.

“You have a childhood wracked by body dysphoria that warped your relationship to your gender. Far as I know, your entire journey since arriving in the City has been of self-discovery, transformation, and euphoria. How’s this: can separate your gender identity from your nature as a succubus?”

(Moonsilver)

“I… I don’t think I can… they feel like the same thing.”

(Kiresa)

“Do you feel trans?”

(Moonsilver)

“Is that allowed?”

(Hannah)

“Forget if it’s allowed! Does the word feel like you?”

(Moonsilver, first with wonder, then breaking down)

“Y-yeah… a trans succubus… that does feel like... oh, god, Hannah, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! I’m a double traitor! You were my own, and I tried to ruin your life, and I ran away instead of apologizing, and--”

(Kiresa)

Hannah defuses the situation by gently pressing Moonsilver into her boobs until she calms. Her small firm fingers stroke the taller succubus’s hair.

(Hannah)

“I kind of knew. Like, felt it, in my belly and my heart. You don’t have the same energy as any of the cis girls I know.”

(Kiresa)

Nor, now that I think about it, does she have energy like any of the neurotypical ones I know. But Silv’s already at her limit, so for now I’ll keep any thoughts about her possible autism to myself. After a while we all wind down, and pull ourselves back to our chairs. We ring for replacement food from the kitchen, then smile nervously at the very annoyed-looking doll that answers. It rolls its sewn-on eyes, but still replaces the half-melted silver platters and blackened husks of sweet treats with a fresh set. Hannah finds it in herself to enjoy coffee and pastries after all.

After some banter and some jokes, Moonsilver broaches one last question.

(Moonsilver)

“Hannah, I’ve been, um, been wondering about something. Tell me if this is too much to answer right now. How’d you wind up in the city, anyway?”

(Hannah)

“You know, that’s been driving me nuts, ‘cuz the truth is I can’t remember.”

(Kiresa)

Silv and I show our cool by the fact that neither of us turns to look at the other.

(Hannah)

“I mean, I only remember Carrie and Mero from a bunch of lucid dreams I had before I woke up as a succubus. I guess it must be some kind of transformation-induced memory loss, y’know? And most of those dreams are full of weird blank spots. I had to let them fill in most of the blanks for me.”

(Moonsilver, carefully)

“And then you opened your clinic?”

(Hannah)

“Yeah. I just really felt the need for something to do now that I was here in the City. A purpose.”

(Kiresa)

“I can understand that. Are you ready for a rest, now?”

(Hannah)

“Yeah. Yeah, I-I think so.”

By silent agreement, Moonsilver and I rise. We walk with Hannah until we find Head Doll Hue. Soon a simple key of polished ruby finds its way into Hannah’s fingers, along with a suite number: Iron-Bound Afterthoughts Attend the Banquet of Many a Tender Dream.

(End)