Teral was sick of living in this hole. He knew this was an important project. And he knew that he was getting paid well for it. He also knew that if the Fairies ever learned of this he’d die alongside everyone else. As one of the few humans left without the moon curse, he had a long life yet to live. Those with the curse of the moon were doomed to die before their 40th year. It was like the curse all of humanity suffered only worse. Those with the moon were those who’s ancestors directly helped or assisted the cursed usurper Darius. Of course it was an inherited curse, passing directly whichever parent had it.

Unlike most of these people here, he had a future after his 30th year. He had plans. And those plans didn’t include dying under a Fairy’s sword. He knew when he joined the project that the pay would be great, and the risk high. But his sense of purpose was harmed recently; with the appearance of that soft tall young man.

He remembered the hope of everyone for this project. Apparently they were working to cure the curse on mankind. He really wanted that to work. But instead of the Grey King, with silver hair and blue eyes, they got this strange young man… Rock Devil hybrid. He never saw a being other than a rock devil his height. The man towered over all of them like some being from another world. He had a stupid look on his face. Not majestic. He smelled of flowers. What man smells of flowers? Fairies smelled like them. But men? Was he human?

The man was well muscled, but he looked like a woman fairy. His face was shaved, his dick had the skin cut back on it like the fairies like to do. His hands had no calluses, his feet were soft and pale as if he never walked a mile in his life. He knew 8-year-old children who were harder than this soft man. In fact, this man reminded him of a male slave he once saw in one of the Fairy capitals of Khavar. It’s a known fact that the fairies had some male deviants who like using the human slave boys and men for sex. He knew of human men who preferred men too, but the Fairies flaunted it. This human male slave was dressed up and made to look like a girl. It was a shocking sight for him. That boy-girl was more manly then this young man.

He knew he was being a little unfair. He also knew he was jealous. The slave girl they gave him was the one he wanted himself. He was even forbidden from plucking that fruit. The girl-boy was supposed to mate with her. It enraged him. What was the point of earning all this coin (the project paid well) if he couldn’t buy the slave girl he wanted to buy? She had the beginnings of what could be in a few years great birthing hips and small perky breasts which had not started to sag yet. She came from a family with a number of living children, meaning she could bear him a living son. She was young, untouched and could read. She was underfed but perfectly docile. Fuck he’d been dreaming about plucking that flower since he saw her two years ago for the first time. Back then she was just one of 20 girls, of whom only one would go to the project and be untouchable. He saved his coin, even cut back on drinking to work extra shifts to insure he’d have the coin to purchase her when she became available. But she never did.

Now he could only look and not touch. It made him so mad he was half tempted to kill the boy-girl and buy her after. If he could do it without anyone knowing he’d do it. Unfortunately, the mages could learn what happened in the past with “past sight”. He couldn’t afford a talisman to shield their eyes from his actions. Those talismans were far more expensive than any virgin slave girl. He started to fantasize of how he could kill the boy-girl and then pluck the flower on top of the boy’s corpse while she mewed under him. He was growing stiff just thinking about it and let his eyes drift closed just picturing the whole scene

He was woken from his dark thoughts when the door to the girl-boy’s room opened. The girl-boy waved with a smile for the two guardsmen to enter.

Entering cautiously, remembering the Sage’s threat, the young girl-boy pointed to the small table and indicated they should sit down. It irritated him that his instructions were to be “friendly” with this prissy faggot, so he put a fake smile on his face and sat down. Then thinking of something fun he pulled out his dagger and drove it down into the table. He wondered if he could sucker this stupid fuck into a game of Meri’ack.

Meri’ack was a barbaric Kindred ‘game. It involved taking turns pulling strips of skin off your own arm. It was rather easy to cause permanent harm. But the main joy of playing it was the tears of your foe. It was almost impossible to play without crying out in pain. Yet the punishments for crying out were horrendous. The existence of healing magic made it a bit less deadly of a game then it probably used to be. Still, very few humans could play even a round of it without taking the penalty.

Just the idea of his tears of pain brightened his smile. The man across from his smiled broadly as well and tapped the dagger with his finger then placed his elbow on the table and started to motion for something. Puzzled he simply looked back at him wondering what he trying to do.