Tonight, Sister Nihem was not ‘Sister’ Nihem, but rather just Nihem. A woman named Nihem in her early thirties who just needed to have a little fun. A woman who had stashed her Sisterhood robes in a trunk in her room, pulling out an evening gown that wouldn’t be out of place in the busy evening of Castle Town. Nihem walked amidst the women of the streets, none of them knowing where she had come from or where she was going.

 

The freedom was intoxicating. 

 

Nihem wore her hair down, straight black locks falling just below her shoulders, bouncing with every eager step she took. The robes she wore were a bright green- a remnant of her time before she joined the Sisterhood, one of the very few she had to her name. Only the simple tanned and worn sandals on her feet were identical to her outfit within the monastery. The sun set on a different woman, one who had not spent the last seven years in constant suffering.

 

“Tyn, so nice to see you again, it’s been too long!” The voice came from a street vendor watching for customers in the busy intersection, one of the many that clamored despite what little daylight remained. Nihem turned to follow the voice, smiling as she did so.

 

“Far too long, Marge,” Nihem said, glancing down at the wares her friend was hocking. “Fruit, now?”

 

“Turns out if you try to sell gems, you just get robbed. Only the street rats try to steal fruit. I can chase away street rats,” Marge said. She was a woman in her mid-twenties, wearing a white apron with a rainbow of stains streaking across it from nearly top to bottom. Her red hair was pinned back in a messy bun, stray hairs escaping from both the hastily-constructed tie and her scalp all the same. No freckles dotted her cheeks, otherwise Nihem would have thought her southern royalty with how beautiful she always was. Her muscles were toned- both the ones Nihem could see in those moments and the ones she could see if she asked nicely, like she had been training to lift an entire horse on her own. Nihem reached over and gave Marge a hug. “What’re you in town for?”

 

“Just passing through, remember my aunt up north?” Nihem asked.

 

“Yeah, the older one with the bad back and twin daughters cajoling with the Alihjn women every night,” Marge said. Nihem nodded and laughed, walking around the edge of the cart to stand next to Marge. Shamelessly, she reached to the side to place a hearty smack on Marge’s ass, squeezing it for a moment as the impact ended.

 

“That’s the one. The twins are finally settling down, I received word a fortnight ago they’re to be wed,” Nihem said.

 

“A wedding? How fun,” Marge said, quickly taking a few coins from a woman passing by, barely stopping as the exchange was made and a small piece of fruit taken off the top of the stand. “Need a date?”

 

“As if you could drop everything and come with me,” Nihem said, raising an eyebrow at her. Conspicuously, her hand was still on Marge’s ass. Even as the taller woman made another sale, she didn’t complain about its placement.

 

“You’re right, I’ve got a kid to look after. Can’t go chasing skirts, especially not as a widow,” Marge said. Nihem nodded, giving Marge a moment of silence for the wife who had been taken from life far too soon.

 

“You’re a good Sire, you know,” Nihem said.

 

“I try. For her, I try,” Marge said back.

 

“You know, I was going to find a room and a whore for the night,” Nihem said. The crowd was beginning to disperse as evening gave way to twilight, women returning to their homes lest the night befall them before their arrival.

 

“You always say that when you’re in town, yet somehow I always wake up next to you,” Marge said. “We’ve been dong this long enough, and little Abby knows you well enough you might as well stay here.”

 

“Stay?”

 

“Sure, why not? I put food on the table and then some, you wouldn’t even have to find work, just stay with Abigail during the day so that she doesn’t drive her grandmothers crazy. They have a rotation, you know?” Marge looked down at Nihem and smiled at her, moving to put a hand around Nihem’s waist. It was a much more chaste gesture than what Nihem had done- and was still currently doing.

 

“That’s… Marge, that’s quite the offer,” Nihem said, looking down. Staying with Marge? Staying… outside of the monastery? The thought had crossed Nihem’s mind more than a few times, especially when seeking out Marge like she had done tonight. How would life with her be? Could she abandon the Sisterhood like that?

 

Yes. Easily. Even now, Nihem was one foot out the door.

 

“Think about it, will you?”

 

“I… I return from the Plains in a month’s time. I’ll have made my decision then,” Nihem said, looking down, fighting a blush. Marriage? Part of the reason she had joined the monastery was because of her age. Twenty-nine and still not married? It was either join a religious order or become an old maid. At least in the Sisterhood she had companionship on occasion- not as much as she would have liked, but she had been careful to declare her Primary Suffering as something she could live without. Nihem was a good ten years older than Marge- but such a thing was relatively common among marriages. Older women frequently married younger ones, something about stability for their daughters or something. It was certainly more common for women of similar age to marry one another, ten years was not an insurmountable gap.

 

“Alright. Help me pack up and we’ll get Abby and some dinner. Help yourself to the fruit, too. I know you’ll be paying me back later,” Marge said. Though there were still enough people around to make at least a handful of cubes more, Marge began packing up the cart, tossing her apron over the handle as she began to pull it over to the middle of the road. It wasn’t so large that Marge couldn’t pull it herself, but with Nihem’s help, they were able to haul it the few blocks to where Marge lived.

 

It was a small house, one of the single-story wood and stone structures in which most of the population of Telbud lived. The walls were also of wood, though they were supported with dirt and clay rather than with stone. The house had a few rooms. A sleeping chamber Marge had once shared with Abby, a common area and a kitchen, with a small room in the back for Abby now that she was old enough to want to sleep alone.

 

“Auntie Tyn, you’re back already?” Abby cried, jumping up from the lap of a wizened woman with white hair sitting on the floor. She was a girl of nine now, with golden blonde hair inherited from her mother, a wide smile and a pattering of steps as she ran towards Nihem with arms outspread. Nihem smiled just as wide as the girl came into view, shamelessly experiencing joy as she wrapped Abby into a tight hug.

 

“Abby, have you gotten taller?” Nihem asked, a laugh in her voice as she set Abby down to kneel in front of her. The girl had dirt on her face and hands, and was wearing a simple shirt and trousers meant for youngsters to play in.

 

“Uh-huh, and look!” Abby cried, pulling back the corner of her mouth to expose her teeth. She pointed to a gap where a tooth ought to have been. “I losh another toof!”

 

“Oh, I see! How many is that now?”

 

“Twelve! Sire says that the Dream Maiden is gonna visit me early!” Abby said. Nihem laughed again, fond memories of when her parents had told her of the Dream Maiden. When a girl lost all her baby teeth, it was said that the Dream Maiden visited her that night, showing her dreams of the most exquisite variety. One dream for every tooth, but only after they had all been regrown into adult teeth.

 

“Early? My my, what are you going to dream about?”

 

“Candy!” Abby said, jumping in place, arms extended into the air. Nihem was still smiling when she stood up, dusted off the front of her robes, and patted Abby on the head.

 

“Then may you dream of lots and lots of candy,” Nihem said, looking around the house again. The old woman had gone, leaving only Marge to sit on the wicker and cotton longchair close by. The two locked eyes and smiled at one another.

 

“Abby, let Aunt Tyn have some breathing room, kay?” Marge called, motioning to Abby, who gave a gloomy ‘okay’ before skulking away. Nihem sat next to Marge on the chair, and the two cuddled together, Nihem’s head resting on Marge’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, smiling. “I’m happy to see you again. It’s been too long.”

 

“Me too, I am happy,” Nihem said. She leaned up, moving closer to Marge, who turned towards her in turn. The two shared a kiss. Nihem’s eyes fluttered shut. It hadn’t been the first kiss since the last time she’d snuck out of the monastery, but damn if it hadn’t been the best one. Marge’s lips were full, soft, and warm. It was like her weary, sorrow-filled lips being taken to a bed of clouds to experience untold joys and happiness that could have only been imagined before. It had been a single kiss, a slow kiss, one that could have lasted a millennia longer and Nihem would have been all the happier.

 

“Tyn… I… I was serious, you know? About you staying here with us. I wanted to tell you something last time you passed through but I never got the chance,” Marge said, whispering. She cleared her throat, and Nihem’s eyes opened wide as she stared at Marge. “I think I love you.”

 

Nihem sat there stunned silent for a long moment. Love? Marge loved her? Nihem? Her? Nobody had ever said that to her before. Nobody had cared enough, spent the time to get to know her. Nihem had always been the outcast, the odd girl out of everything. Her sisters had all wed by twenty, her employers before the monastery often forgot she was there. But Marge… this woman, this beautiful creature here… she loved Nihem?

 

“Tyn?” Marge asked in a whisper. Nihem didn’t answer, not to the fake name, not to anything except Marge’s professions. She leaned in for another kiss, this one ravenous, attacking Marge’s lips with a fury that was better left for after dinner. Marge responded, and the two gripped one another, pulling tight against the other, as though breaking the contact or the kiss would end it all. The two broke for air eventually, Nihem pulling at Marge’s robes. Before long, they were off, Nihem’s clothing following suit quickly after. Four Marks lit like blue beacons of love, neither women cared.

 

Nihem tasted of Marge’s body, hands glowing blue with the Gift of Life she was bestowing upon her. Lips attached firmly onto her clit. Nihem looked up at Marge, between that gorgeous face and the fingers at her entrance. They both knew what that meant. If Nihem put those fingers inside her, there was a very good chance Marge would be with child beginning from that moment on.

 

“Do it,” Marge whispered, biting her lip. Nihen nodded, and pushed in. It didn’t take long for Marge to scream in pleasure, two fingers thrusting into her as Nihem gave Marge a second daughter. As Marge climaxed, Nihem looked down. Her Gift Hand, with fingers firmly inside Marge’s body. She’d gone and Sired a child, and she couldn’t be happier about it.

 

“Fuck…” Nihem whispered. Marge slid off the chair and pushed Nihem to the ground, getting into position to return the favor. 

 

“We can raise three kids, yeah?” Marge asked. Nihem nodded, and watched as Marge pushed a finger of her Gift Hand into Nihem’s body. Nihem nodded, smiling, accepting the Gift of the daughter Marge was giving her. She accepted it with pleasure from a pulsing womanhood and a soaring heart. Nihem climaxed within minutes, trembling, a smile on her face and untold joy in her heart.

 

“What… did we just do…?” Marge asked. The two had convened in Marge’s chambers, hastily collecting their clothing and scurrying out of the common area as best they could before Abby spotted them.

 

“I think I just gave you an answer,” Nihem said. The two lay on Marge’s bed, sweating, panting, Marks still faintly aglow in the aftermath of what had just occurred.

 

“So… we’re getting married?” Marge asked.

 

“We’re probably pregnant now, I feel like that’s a foregone conclusion,” Nihem said.

 

“Abby’s gonna love having little sisters, you know that?”

 

“I’m sure,” Nihem said. 

 

Nihem lay there with Marge- the woman she was to marry, the woman who was carrying her child and whose child she was carrying in turn. The woman who didn’t even know her name. Yet… Nihem knew that she loved this woman. They could be happy together, Sisterhood be damned to eternal joy. She wasn’t vital to their operation, and even if she was, it wasn’t like that had stopped her from leaving before. This time, though, she didn’t think she’d be back. Not even to gather what few personal possessions she still had.

 

“Marge?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“There’s… something I need to tell you…” She only hoped that Marge would be accepting of it all.