As I pass above the Upper District I note that the city has recovered itself well, the streets are bustling as if nothing happened. Groups of humans and beastkin mill about below me and only occasionally does the crescent moon of an upturned face present itself for my inspection, the people below used to – or maybe just unaware of – winged humanoids passing overhead. I'm slightly struck, as I pass by, by the sheer number of features and faces I can see in the crowd below – each distinct, this one a cleft chin, this one a hare lip, this one a single glaring eye… – an endless variety. Funnily, because they are all so lacking magical power – so infinitely close to zero to my senses – I am forced to use things like features and faces, if I wish to distinguish.

Less funny, is my complete lack of desire to do such a thing.

As I soar above, I reaffirm the worthlessness of the insects below, different though their faces may be – I am not distracted – they are alike. So alike, in all pertinent aspects. Even as the city bustles with energy, thrums with life, a close examination reveals the weak and interchangeable individual cells. The faces may be different – but they are the same, a shapeless and amorphous mass, that blurs together under my scrutiny…

Finding Pink should be easy then, she at least has color.

The city is fairly large I suppose, but a pair of wings makes any distance within the walls trivial. As I refocus on my objective, I descend into the Lows, staying above the rooftops, ignoring the masses below – focusing only on closing the distance between Point A (Me) and Point B (Pink). As I spot a promising place to land I wonder, belatedly, if this is all right? The duke was keeping my nature a secret of sorts …before.

It should be fine right? A huge crater was just carved into the city by the doves, so the residents shouldn't take any issue with demons – the natural enemy of Celestials. If anything they should be glad to see us. Maybe. At any rate I think the last time I saw Pink she wasn't bothering with a glamour… Still I worry a bit, until I land in the wide area I previously noted. Not a clearing, but a large building with a small amount of space between it and the surrounding buildings – an oddity in the Lows, where the buildings are jumbled and pressed together, crude shanties and shacks plastering every spare inch – and outside, in the small yard, stands Pink with two crude wooden carts. We are right on the edge of where the Celestial fires died down, as evidenced by the burnt and blackened structures mere blocks away…

I note all that before turning to give Pink my full attention and on seeing her my mind goes briefly blank. She's changed her clothing again, and her figure is …striking. Her new outfit is composed only of two small pieces of sheer black cloth and a great number of leather straps – none more than an inch wide, most considerably less so. Almost the entirety of her perfectly shaped body is on display, her two sensuous mounds barely concealed by a strip of fabric. My eyes trace lower, distantly noting her bright pink skin, horns, and bat-like wings are proudly on display, before stopping at the ridiculously low cut “panties” that are her only other solid piece of clothing. The artificer who crafted her fine magical vestments – capable of such dramatic transformation – is undoubtedly rolling in their grave.

Pink never dressed conservatively, obviously, but this is a clear escalation. Inspired by her new surroundings maybe? Finally in a place where she might make use of her innate talents as a succubus, it could prompt …experimentation. After all succubi are creatures able to make use of the lust they arouse in other creatures, it is something like food to them, a sort of power…

Ah, while I was reeling, she spotted me. A wide smile crosses her face, and she raises her arm in an enthusiastic wave – causing an ominous cascade of jiggling, her modestly preserved in clear defiance of all the physical laws of the universe – and a shouted greeting.

“Mistress! You're awake!” And then she's closed, throwing herself into me with reckless abandon.

An action I'm slightly thankful for, as it cools my head instantly – uncharacteristic musings set aside to make a quick decision, is she trying to assassinate me? Probably not …right? But …maybe…

Before I can decide she is upon me, literally leaping to wrap me in a fierce embrace, which I return after only the barest hesitation. Whatever she decides to wear, whatever her reasons for leaping on me, her arms are an undeniably comfortable place to be – purely physically speaking. After a moment of tolerating her clumsy groping I conclude she isn't trying to kill me, just strip me in the street maybe.

I slip an arm up behind her head, as if to draw her in for a kiss, but merely gently run my fingers through her messy shoulder length hair before cupping the nape of her neck in my fingers, applying the slightest pressure. A more gentle reminder than such impudence deserves really, but I'm in an inexplicably good mood. It is effective and her questing hand stops trying to slide down the back of my dress, as she turns her dewy blue eyes up to meet mine. A strange intensity burns there.

“Apologies mistress, I forgot myself.” She says breathily. Her apology undercut slightly by how she is leaning heavily into me, pressing her body against mine without reservation.

While I enjoy the relief from the omnipresent pressure of the corruption that her proximity grants me, something is clearly off, so I gently separate her from me. Gripping her shoulders and holding her at arms length, I look curiously into her eyes. Simultaneously I try to get a feel for her specific mana signature, attempting to discern if shes been magically tampered with – but she seems entirely healthy to my cursory inspection.

“No need to apologize, this much is …tolerable.” I say, regarding her with slightly narrowed eyes. As if I might spot out what ails her just by looking. “Is something wrong, Pink?” Eventually I opt to just try asking her.

She squirms aggressively in my grasp, slipping from my not particularly serious grip and once more attaching herself to me, pressing her significantly larger chest to mine. Distantly, I feel a twinge of annoyance. Her already half-open mouth moves as if to speak, moist lips swaying temptingly, when we are …interrupted.

A cacophony of wolf whistles and cat calls rain down from our surroundings, causing me to note for the first time the rather large crowd of humans in the immediate vicinity. Mostly they are rough looking men and boys, heavily armed and lightly armored, their eyes all fixed on my servant and I. Interspersed between them are a handful of the fellows in metal armor, Legion soldiers, equally entranced.

“…About time!”

“…kitty pounces!”

“Why not me…?”

And a hundred other, similar, exclamations erupt from the gathered men. The clamoring voices deafening around us. In my arms Pink freezes, perhaps finally awakening to her surroundings. As for me I've gone quite still too, the old smile forcefully plastered across my face, as my eyes sweep the crowd – promising slow and painful death to these fools that seem to take me for a spectacle. My mana is already circulating, an ominous pressure filling the space between us – a pregnant silence forcibly introduced.

“…I'm sorry, mistress.” Pink's voice, heard at this point blank range, is suddenly very contrite.

But I pay her no mind, my attention entirely consumed by my stare down with the crowd of humans around me. They've fallen silent but, unexpectedly, have mostly held their ground. A few have lost their feet, taken a knee or just fell on their rumps, but almost none have fled – despite the crushing pressure of imminent death that is settling over them even now. I don't really want to kill them, it would be counterproductive, but I refuse to let this pass without at least a warning.

“Are you quite amused, humans?” My voice is icy, simultaneously bolstered and suppressed by my magic. Bolstered so they can all hear, suppressed so they all survive – if I do decide to kill them I'm not so merciful as to let them shuffle loose the mortal coil unawares.

A few of them break into uneasy smiles at that – a suicidal sort of bravery shining back at me from a dozen pairs of eyes as various mouths open, poised to respond.

“Alexandria!” A new voice enters the fray. “Don't kill these idiots, please. And you louts! Get gone! How many times a day do I have to come out here and chase you fools off?!”

I turn to regard this newcomer, much of the tension draining from me alongside my desire to continue perpetuating this farce. The gathered humans aren't worth killing, obviously; some are slinking away even now – and hopefully my little display will give them more pause in the future. If they persist in their annoying behavior, well something might need to be done but for now this is enough. In my arms Pink is stiff as a board, her head down – a contradictory state, for one as soft as her, so I pat her a couple times to let her know the crisis has passed.

“If you must make a fool of yourself in this way – do endeavor to do so with less people in attendance, please Pink.” I give her some murmured advice, pitching my voice so only she can hear, and she nods, still not looking me in the eye. So still hugging her, feeling I have handily regained control of all the important things in this situation, I turn to regard the new arrival.

Emily has emerged from the largeish wooden shack that stands at the center of this lot, a wooden bowl of some variety of soup in her hands. She is the one who intervened and she looks …different as well. Gone are the acolyte's robes Pink produced the other night – leftovers from a failed “operation” and her only worldly possessions Pink told me when I asked where they came from – instead she is wearing a great deal of solid and practical looking leather armor. Not infected by Pink's eccentricities, Emily's armor is quite a respectable – if plain and unenchanted– suit of boiled and blackened leather armor, clasped to her frame by a belt, a number of buckles and woven leather straps.

However, Emily's own eccentricities become apparent with only a brief moment of scrutiny, an obsession with edged weapons manifesting itself in her wardrobe. Hilts of a half dozen daggers protrude here and there from her armor, on top of the two daggers belted at her waist and a bandoleer of throwing knives slung across her chest. She would cut quite an imposing figure – with her height that matches that of an average man and mane of blonde hair – if not for the fact that her weapons are all completely devoid of any sort of magic – little more than bits of scrap and poorly forged pig iron in my eye. All except one…

“Thank the Gods you've woken up Alexandria. Martin and I were beginning to fear something was wrong.” Emily says, crossing the small yard rapidly. As she does I spot the other notable feature in this yard – two small wooden carts full to overflowing with corrupted crystal hearts – or Unbound Cores, as I suppose I should make an effort to call them if I want to sound comprehensible to the people around me… The “Unbound Cores” are almost all pathetically small though, mostly the size of marbles or beads – the largest only as big as my little finger – Cores from monsters humans can deal with I surmise.

I only took so long to notice because of the rapid succession of distractions, but now the unpleasant creeping sensation is sweeping over me in force.

“Ah, you noticed. Those are our spoils from the past few days of work.” Emily follows my eyes and explains proudly.

“I see. What is the meaning of this crowd of humans?” I ask, sending a last sweeping gaze over the remaining humans – mostly Legion soldiers and a few particularly dead-eyed men just sitting and staring into space. In my arms Pink trembles slightly.

“It is my fault mistress.” She speaks suddenly. “No matter how many times I chase them away, or set the children on them, they always return. To stare. I refrained from killing them because it seemed contrary to your expectations mistress…” She reports sadly, before turning an angry gaze on Emily. “…twas not because of you, girl. Do not misunderstand.” Slightly confused at the verbal jab I just stroke the top of her head idly, and her flash of hostility melts away.

“Well. It is certainly correct, to not kill the humans. Our aim is …friendship, or something like it, after all. So you musn't kill them.” At least not publicly – where other humans will know to blame you for the deaths. I leave that latter unspoken, confident Pink can understand this much.

“You see! I told you so Pink, so many times! You're almost as stubborn as those idiot adventurers I swear…” Emily exclaims.

“More importantly, why have the 'idiot adventurers' been congregating here?” I ask again.

“Can't help themselves can they?” Another voice interrupts, as the final member of my party swaggers into view. “When you dangle a feast in front of a buncha starvin' dogs you can't blame 'em when they all crowd around to slaver can ya?”

Martin's hands are empty, save a small green flame he is pushing from hand to hand distractedly – flaunting his magical control I assume. He looks much as he did when I last saw him, swaddled in the black robes of an acolyte of the old dead Order. He is young, even for a human, as evidenced by the air of innocence projected by the soft face grinning dopily out from under his shock of unkempt black hair – a somewhat striking contrast to his apparent magical talent. From this range I can sense that he has managed to attune his personal mana to channel demonic energy – the result of Pink's labor no doubt – but still somewhat impressive given just how quickly it was managed.

“Isn't that right ya damn ashborn idiots!?” He suddenly cries, sweeping his hand in the direction of the humans that haven't yet left – the flame morphing and shifting, showering them in green sparks. It looks slightly impressive, but the humans pay it no mind, content to continue staring dumbly, so the sparks must not have much power to them.

“Good to see you up and about Alexandria, we was startin' to get a bit worried.” The short former human continues good naturedly, as he joins our impromptu meeting.

“Show some respect, human, or I'll boil you alive.” Pink hisses from under my arm with sudden vitriol. Martin winces.

But I can only reflect on how entirely unconvincing Pink's warning is – coming from someone who physically attached themselves to me without prompting and is even now clinging on to me – is that showing respect? No, obviously not. But it is within the tolerable range of eccentricities I'm willing to indulge from my servants – a range that has broadened considerably as the number of servants has dwindled. More importantly...

“'A feast'? What do you mean by that?” I ask.

Martin's gaze sharpens into a leer – something terribly out of place on the boy's youthful face – directed at Pink in my arms. Tracing the bulging lines of her body with his eyes. “Well, obviously, those boys just can't help but gather round when they see-”

“All these Unbound Cores.” Emily cuts in over Martin forcefully. “It's a literal fortune we're sitting on out here, even with the current bounty reduction. If they weren't all deathly afraid that Pink would rip them to pieces every adventurer in the city would be here trying to take a slice for themselves. Even with her here, the idiots can't help but try – if not to steal, then to just hang around here and hope someone 'drops' something.”

“Indeed. The girl has the right of it mistress, these Unbound Cores have considerable value to the humans of this city – so I've been forced to do little more than stand guard these past few days – when not tending to my other responsibilities. It has slowed the collection process considerably.” Pink speaks sullenly.

“I see…” I murmur absently – truthfully only half listening – as my fingers dance through the motions to conjure a Gate. The carts of Unbound Cores are just too much a distraction.

“A few members of the Adventurer's Guild have been by – actual members Alexandria, the important ones – and asked about when we would be coming to exchange our…” Emily begins to speak but trails off when she sees what's happening.

“Holy shit. That is magic.” Martin says, sounding fascinated.

And before all of our eyes the two carts slowly sink into the black portal that has opened beneath them. Disappearing an inch at a time into the ground, until some crucial tipping point is reached about halfway and they simply drop away and out of sight in an instant. There is a brief feeling of unease, in such close proximity to the Gate, until I snap my fingers and it disappears. The dirt dirt once more.

“Pink, why don't you ever teach me how to do cool things like that?” Martin's voice is indignant as he pushes up against that mythical “tolerable” range – but I endeavor to ignore it.

In the background I hear various cries of woe from the assembled humans, but I ignore those as well, turning instead to look at Pink – still inches away. She lets out a small gasp at the motion.

“Are you two gonna make out now?” The impertinent boy pipes up, again.

“…Martin.” Emily's warning is uncertain.

“Boy. You have already tested my patience considerably, it feels only moments ago when your shrill yammering was clawing at the inside of my head – in the midst of a rather important fight no less. So I ask you – this once – do make a pointed effort to control your words …lest you find yourself silenced.” As I speak my own warning, I don't take my eyes from Pink, watching the smile grow on her face with each word. Clearly she has been bearing her own burdens these past days…

“The two of you have something you could be doing, do you not? Or has the city been purged of the Unbound?” I continue with a question that is not a question.

“No …we was just takin' a break for a meal.” Martin's voice comes back sullen.

“Then see to it.” I speak the words, scarcely believing they need to be spoken.

“Alexandria…” Emily starts hesitantly – but then she shakes her head. “C'mon Martin, you idiot, let's go.”

Emily passes her wooden bowl to a nearby small human with a murmured word that sends the human scurrying back into the large wooden building. Then she turns, looking out into the burnt section of the city, before closing her eyes with a murmured Word, conjuring a small flare of magic that runs along her frame. When she reopens her eyes, she moves with purpose – with direction – stalking out of the courtyard with one hand on the hilt of one of her many weapons. A second later Martin follows behind, his playful green flame snuffed out, a more serious sort of magic building around him. Despite my scolding, he moves with no obvious reluctance.

“What the hell? What are we supposed to do now? The damn Cores is gone! Swallowed up in the ground!” An angry human is accosting one of the Legion soldiers, who bears it stoically – making no reply.

Seeing he is making no headway there the man rounds on me, redfaced and angry, but when he meets my eyes he suddenly deflates. The fight goes out of him and he just heaves a large sigh before, in an inexplicable change of heart, turning to leave. Most of the other humans follow suit, until even the vacant-eyed fools have been shooed along. The space surrounding us is for the first time empty of annoying humans – save a handful of distant Legion soldiers – so I am free to give Pink my full attention.

“Is everything alright?” I ask her, pushing her to arms length so I can look at her properly.

She seems to have regained herself and meets my eyes easily, even flashing a slightly sultry smile.

“Yes… yes. Everything is fine, mistress. Everything proceeds apace.” She says after only an instant of consideration.

“And those two …Martin and Emily? What are your thoughts Pink? They should be of some use, yes?” I probe curiously.

Pink nods, even as she reaches up and begins to run her hand along my arm – just touching, ever so gently. I tolerate it, reaffirming in my mind that succubi are intensely physical creatures.

“They certainly have the potential to be useful. Their personalities are somewhat less than ideal however, neither of them seem to understand proper respect for their elders and betters. The girl especially, she nags at me incessantly over the most ridiculous things. The boy at least understands where to direct his aggression… If either of them needs to be silenced…” Pink glowers, trailing off. Going so far as to separate herself from me completely in her annoyance.

“Mm, well, I've agreed to at least listen to the things Emily has to say, it costs me nothing after all – so I'm afraid we'll have to listen, if nothing else. I feel there is a certain value in her perspective, so different from yours or mine.” I say thoughtfully.

“She's told me as much. Many times.” Pink pouts.

“But more than their personalities, I was curious about their abilities.” I attempt to steer the conversation back somewhere useful.

Pink just shrugs. “They are young. Younger even than I, and it is obvious from the way the flounder and grapple with powers beyond their comprehension. The girl is useless for magic, she says the words – speaks the incantation – but no result is produced. If I didn't know the origin of her power I would wonder if she even had the capability… Maybe with time she will learn. That is not to say she has no talents – her physical abilities are outstanding, due to her beastkin lineage perhaps, and she has an undeniable ability in …body transformation? Maybe? I've never seen the kind of things she can do with those feathers of hers anywhere else.

The boy is a bit better. It took him only a few hours to manifest soulfire, establish his ability to channel the flow of demonic energy. Hard for me to say if that is praiseworthy, having never attempted to train a human before, but I can say that none of my other human students have managed as much – though a few seem close. After that I've been teaching him incantations, well, a handful of simple incantations – starting from the bottom of the circles. He is terribly impatient – longs for 'real power' – but while his control over such simplistic incantations is somewhat notable, I don't feel it merits accelerating his learning. Fundamentals are important…” She reports.

“And…?” I ask, sensing an unfinished thought.

“…And I haven't had time to draw up a proper curriculum for the brat. We're a long way from the Great Library, so I'll have to do it all from memory. No reason to rush though, his skill is sufficient for our current purposes, and if we delay a bit perhaps the girl will catch up.” Pink nods as she finishes the thought, as if agreeing with herself, it's strangely cute.

“I see. It seems you've preformed adequately, well done Pink.” I offer generously, studiously ignoring how she has drawn uncomfortably close once again. “I, as well, have made some small strides in the direction of our ultimate goal – the human lord of this city has requested I replace the damaged spell formation beneath the city.”

Pink's face transforms into one of outrage. “The nerve of that man…” She mutters dangerously.

“Peace Pink. I accepted, after some deliberation. Removing the constant expenditure of holy magic and replacing it with magic of the demonic variety will be a tiny step in the correct direction, insofar as our ultimate goal is concerned. More importantly, it is a good opportunity to attempt to impress some knowledge of the fundamentals of Rune Formations into your pretty – but sadly ignorant – head. And it is a good opportunity to endear ourselves to the humans – which will prove useful when we find The Chain.” I recount my reasons one at a time.

“Speaking of The Chain. Have you managed to ferret out any further information Pink?” I ask.

“No. Nothing substantial at any rate. Rubbing elbows with the 'adventurers' has given me ample opportunity to question them but as of yet none of them have known anything useful. The Tarisian woman has approached me a few times after the lessons, hinted that she perhaps knows something, but I haven't been able to get anything concrete from her – she is oddly resistant to my Charm. A difficult human to deal with.” Pink responds seriously, for the first time since this encounter began giving up on groping me in favor of giving a proper response – reminded of our grander purpose here.

Ugh. That woman, I remember her. “…Tarisian or whatever… what does that mean? Do you know Pink?”

“Tarisia is a nation of humans far to the west – beyond the borders of the Imperium and then further beyond a place called The Tribelands, a vast plain wherein the beastkin have long made their homes. A Tarisian is a human who hails from that place and they seem to be distrusted within the Imperium, though why that is isn't clear to me – something to do with witches or soul magic or some such nonsense, I've only heard the superstitious blathering of adventurers on the topic.

“My investigations of that group of humans have been mostly preliminary, may I ask why you ask mistress? Are the Tarisian's important?” Pink asks seriously.

“No.” I wave that off without a thought. “The woman who identified herself as a Tarisian has been slightly notable – so I was somewhat curious. Just an idle curiosity though, pay it no mind Pink.”

“On a different note, how goes the hunt? I can only pick out one notable cluster of corruption within the city with my senses now, so I assume things are going well?” I ask.

“Yes mistress, we've very nearly wiped out the Unbound monsters. The only slightly troublesome point is the Adventure's Guild – who have been competing with us in the collection of Unbound Cores. With hundreds of humans scouring the city for the things it was an inevitability that some would escape my grasp – even with all the humans I've been 'intercepting' and 'relieving' of their burdens – but it's still quite irksome.”

“I've been debating going back to the guild and demanding they surrender their Cores to me – since they are so clearly incapable of handling them – but our 'friendship' with these humans has thus far stayed my hand.” Pink recounts angrily.

“That would …probably be wise.” I murmur.

“…eh?” Pink makes a stupid noise, not expecting agreement I suppose.

“Well, as you say, they clearly have a distinct inability. Do they not?” I put the question to her – not mentioning that we also have an inability to actually destroy the accursed things. But my storage method is undoubtedly safer.

“T-That is exactly right mistress. I will see to it right away! Since you've dealt with the Cores here and the children are on the hunt – there is time right now.” Pink says energetically.

“Indeed. I will accompany you of course.” I interject regally.

Pink's face flushes red – or maybe just a deeper shade of pink – and she squirms a bit under my eyes, in a manner quite contrary to her …daring… outfit. Almost innocently really.

“I would be honored to have you with me mistress… but this is something I can handle myself – the Adventure's Guild is really no place for one so magnificent as you, the scum that congregate there have no appreciation at all for the Goddess of Demons, it is a truly unbearable state of affairs – and I would not want you to suffer that indignity…” Pink trails off delicately.

“It's no matter Pink, there are few things I care about less than the opinions of the specks of dirt that gather in places such as this. One day I will take a light afternoon nap and the slate will have been wiped free of this particular bunch of grime – no need to pay them any mind until then.” I say not bothering to add that how dearly I hope that day comes soon…

Pink blinks, an expression of uncertainty appearing for a split second, before it is wiped away by her wide smile. “Of course mistress, apologies for my unneeded consideration – shall we go then? It will be some hours before the children make their way back to the chapel.”

I nod. “Lead on.”

The city is different from street level. Many more inquisitive gazes, for one thing, as the most all of the humans and beastkin we pass in the street seem to stop what they are doing to follow our progress with their eyes – as if they'd never seen demons before or something. Or maybe it's due to Pink – with her clothing that reveals far more than it obscures – she is dressed nothing at all like any of the other women we pass. But that can not explain the entirety of it, because as often as those eyes are tinted by lust they are instead dyed by reverence, the old look burned onto the faces of insects in the presence of I, Alexandria. It is slightly surprising to be under those eyes, feeling that familiar sensation – like an idol being worshiped – here, so far from home. But I suppose it is natural, for the weak to acknowledge their betters.

We ignore all that of course, I due to my long years courting any number of staring eyes, and Pink having sidled up and attached herself to my arm – she seems entirely oblivious. The city itself is in an interesting state as well, here in the Lows there is constant evidence of fire damage which is slowly being repaired by the inhabitants, in some places before my very eyes. Groups of humans and beastkin moving in concert, transporting wood and stone, collecting the things that are burnt and unusable to be added to massive burn piles, picking through the ruined remains of shanties in search of …remains. Rebuilding.

Their tasks seem endless but they tackle them with enthusiasm, only momentarily stopping to eat, to drink, to take a short rest …to stare. I meet eyes with a cat eared man perched on a nearby rooftop – he is directly next to a large hole in the crudely tarred roof, where a part of an adjacent building had apparently gave way and plunged through – and he is paused mid-bite of his small loaf of hard bread, fixedly staring down at Pink and I. Eyes following us until we pass out of view. It is a scene repeated a hundred times no matter where I look, people briefly frozen, stupefied, before jolting awake and returning to their lives.

Whilst strolling as such I decide to broach the topic with Pink …delicately.

“There has been a …change, in your attire Pink.” I say solemnly.

Immediately she presses closer to me, burying my arm in her cleavage, clearly by design. All the while casting a sly upward glance at me and contorting herself oddly into a pose she imagines to be seductive, if the moist sheen on her half open lips – moving in as if for a kiss – and her quickening and roughening breath is any indication.

“…You noticed mistress.” Her voice is husky, her eyes boring into me with feverish intensity.

“It is noticeable.” I agree cautiously.

Pink nods as she explains. “It felt to be a …necessary change. The armor chafed and itched and I could feel it over my skin every moment of the day, terrible, distracting, confining. Like this though… Like this it feels right… Or more right. Closer.” She is once again invading my personal space, her face less than a foot from my own, something smoldering in her eyes.

“Closer. Yes it's closer – but it's not… it's not enough. I need more. Something. For this…” She trails off for a moment, and I can feel a tremor running through her body – transmitted by the death grip she has on my arm. The heat of her gaze is incomprehensible, confused, eyes of love – or lust – of passion and desire. But the tremble betrays the paper thin veneer, so unlike a succubus.

“It's like …like riding atop a wave …like having the tide rise up inside me, flooding me, pushing out everything to make way for the cresting waves… Sometimes I feel I can ride the waves – but sometimes I feel they might drown me.” She continues softly, speaking in strange abstracts.

“...” She stops talking, but judging by her eyes it's not for lack of things to say.

We've stopped moving. I face her, somewhat …confused. My knowledge of this aspect of the biology of succubi is somewhat lacking – but I do know the broad strokes. I'm not ignorant, I know what the girl is talking about – even if she has decided to coach it in such odd terms. Lust and power and a need for physical contact – a desire to drain and dominate and posses – the hallmarks of any succubus. Surely the fledgling is not turning that appetite on me…?

“I need you- …your help. Mistress. Goddess. Please. I will… I'll. Anything at all. I just… It has to be you.” Her speech is odd and halting. Her eyes swimming – pleading – and at the same time she is pulling my arm into herself – pressing it against her navel, conveying her intentions in ways she apparently can't manage with words.

I wonder if the searching gazes being cast by the wretches surrounding us have intensified with this display? A part of me wants to scold her, for her lack of …discretion, so soon after I issued a warning about this very issue – but I suppose it was I who broached the topic. In the first place, a proper demon need not mind the wandering eyes of something like a human. But Pink seems less a proper demon each time I speak to her – could our society really produce a creature like this? A creature that would rather ask than take? And even then not able to properly form the question… I regard her icily.

“You are having sudden difficulties managing your appetites?” I ask, my voice chilly even in my own ears.

Her face doesn't change, really, but the veneer cracks all the same. The heat extinguished, her slightly sultry smile becomes stiff. She blinks and her blue eyes, so like my own, seem to lose some of their depth – two flat and glassy orbs. Her grip on me slackens.

“Aha… I knew… Of course. From the start. I knew it was impossible…” Her smile is flat, her voice a whisper. She releases my arm, turning away from me, sweeping the street with her gaze.

“It's because of them, I think. In Lumineux I never experienced anything like this, so it must be them. The humans.” Her voice is even, composure regained. “I can feel it. The desire. Their desire. My desire. The want. It's theirs. It's mine. Its want. Want. So much want. So badly! And I… I take it from them. Or they give it to me? I don't know. I've never…”

“It is simple biology is it not? Succubi have a high amount of sexual desire – moreso when they walk among those swayed by their charms.” I say.

Pink seems to shrivel under my gaze, meekly nodding. “You are right, mistress, of course. It has just been… more than I anticipated, when we set out from Artas. Maybe if I changed these back…” She plucks forlornly at a strap of leather holding her 'clothes' to her body.

“I wouldn't. Attempting to suppress your nature is a fools errand.” I advise, giving her “problem” some thought.

How did did the old Demon Lords of the succubi clans handle this sort of thing on Artas? My mind drifts, lazily trawling through years upon years of memories, throwing up disjointed moments of ancient history. There were the things they kept, of course, the slave races – goblins, orcs, and their ilk – things that would do in a pinch but that were fundamentally …unsuitable, to be the partner of any trueblooded member of a clan. There were their mates, from within and without the clans, typically selected for political gains over physical compatibility – but there were some who made more effective pairs, were there not? Succubi and Sins, maybe? Obviously their male counterparts are probably most suitable – but I doubt we will find an incubus on Suprema.

And other methods, other things kept, a distant memory flashes before my eyes – a powerfully built human man kneeling before my throne alongside a powerful succubus Demon Lord. It created quite a fervor, back then, triggered a coup – at the outrage, the scandal, of bringing something like that into the Most Holy of Places – one of those pivotal moments to my cute subordinates, the hinge that swung the events that ushered in a new Demon King.

I pinch the bridge of my nose in irritation, at this useless line of thought. Artas was a different place. Here on Suprema, this should be a nonissue.

“Surely, in this place, you could find any number of willing partners to sate whatever desires you've found yourself experiencing?” I point out, looking around as I speak – the are probably a dozen vital-looking human specimens, just on this street!

Pink looks shocked, her gaze following mine, her lip curling in something like revulsion. “Mistress! I could never! It's impossible! Just the thought…” She shudders.

I snort incredulously. “I believe you will no doubt find yourself perfectly physically capable.”

She shakers her head. “But they are humans! I may look like this – but I am a daughter of House Gwyine, to lower myself in such a way …it is unthinkable.”

“Actually, you will find your Name is Pink.” I declare it with finality, regarding her through narrowed eyes.

“It is even more important then! For one such as I, Named and Chosen, to lie with a human?! Absurd!” She approaches again, her fire regained, and grasps my hands in her own. “I love you, mistress! Is there no way? Is it truly impossible?” Her cheeks flush red as she speaks.

Looking into her quivering blue eyes, I turn her words over in my mind. It is not the first – or even the hundredth – time I have been propositioned by one of my cute subordinates. Though it does seem slightly abnormal – a raw and dangerously emotional declaration from a young girl. A succubus at that, who is pretending as likely as not. And my mouth is already moving, extolling the obvious.

“Again, you ask something of me Pink – yet offer nothing in turn? You are young I know, but not so young to be ignorant of such a fundamental principle of the world we live in. Or do you think me one to be stirred by feelings? What bride price do you think is sufficient for the one known as the Goddess of Demons? Pink?” I ask her seriously.

Her eyes falter, as the eyes of suitors tend to when that question is raised, but then they steady. She meets my eyes – seriously and unflinchingly – and I'm slightly surprised.

“Then… the world mistress? For you – I will repair it.” She answers just as seriously. “In exchange…” She draws close, releasing my hands and wrapping her arms around me.

I make no move to stop her, caught flatfooted by her proposal. So sly! I almost laugh aloud. Such nerve! To think that I ever questioned that the girl was a proper demon. Almost unthinkingly I return her embrace.

“A more convincing proposal than I think I have ever received.” I say aloud. “It seems to have a minor issue, in that we are both working together toward that goal…”

“Mmm.” Pink's reply is nonsensical, as she rubs herself against me in an almost alarmingly shameless manner.

Have I been outwitted, I wonder? Idly running a hand through her silky red hair. The entire world… if one was seriously interested in buying my hand, there is probably no fairer price. Not that I ever intend to allow myself to be bought – but I can appreciate the girl's tenacity. I'm not sure, what has driven this out of her – whether it's love or lust or a desire for a sliver of power from the “Demon Goddess” but it is certainly novel. To seriously offer up the world – I'm probably the type that's weak to that sort of gambit.

“It will be some time. Before the world is repaired.” I say.

“Until then, I will endure.” She says, squeezing me tightly.