Part Twelve -- Flakes Of Crimson

W.A.S.P. / The Real Me

Gabrielle wiped her hands on the dewy grass, then wiped the cool water on her face. She reached out for teh wineskin, but found the strap wrapped around Melanthe’s arm, which was in turn snugged around Nysa’s unclad waist. With a careful touch that would have made Autolycus weep in joy, Gabrielle lifted the dark blonde’s arm and worked the strap free. Shaking fingers popped off the cork. The first drop of liquid was sweet, lingering on her tongue before sliding down her throat. Her stomach accepted the gift gratefully, quieting any protests of neglect. Her mind, painfully sharp for this time of day, dulled into the low level of grumbling she was familiar with. She tipped back the skin again.

“Hey. . .” Nysa murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Save some of that for me.”

“Get your own.” Gabrielle grinned as she took another large swallow. Nysa rose to a kneeling position, displacing Melanthe’s arm. She reached out and pulled the worn brown sack out of teh bard’s eager grasp. She gulped down her share, all the while staring at the barely clad Gabrielle with a look that could have withered the sickle that Zeus used to castrate Cronus. Melanthe and Kepa stirred and sat up, their clothes dropping to the side. They had cast aside modesty in reaching for the wineskin. Nysa giggled as she sprung to her feet, backing away slowly and teasing the trio with the object of their singular devotion. The three women, in varying stages of undress, paced after her with grins that were disarming and savage.

“Give me the wine, Nysa, and no one gets hurt.” Gabrielle said with a mock seriousness. Nysa only shook her head and stepped back. Melanthe lunged, her arms outstretched as she tried to tackle the leader of the group. Nysa hopped to a side, laughing as Melanthe skidded on the moist ground. She rolled over, picking away torn fragments of grass and seeds. Kepa moved for the skin like a hunter, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Come on, this is the best we have? Really, girls, I thought you would have see--” Nysa’s comments were cut off by the springing Kepa slamming her shoulders into Nysa’s exposed flank. The wineskin flew out of Nysa’s hands and into the air. Gabrielle watched it arc end over end. She saw where it was going to land, then started to run to catch it before it hit the ground. Open arms connected with their prize as she dragged it back to her body. Battle-honed instincts told her to turn around and be wary for another attack. The three women circled around her like vultures waiting for their prey to kindly expire.

“Now, unlike Nysa, I am willing to share this, but I don’t give it out for free.” Her smile turned wicked. “What can any of you give me in return for this delicious wine?”

Kepa reached and slid out one pins that was holding her short toga together. The cloth made a tiny rustle as it hit the ground. “Will this do?”

Gabrielle felt a tingle that started at the bottom of her feet and climbed up her legs. Accompanying the dizzying tingle was a pulse of heat that began at her center and radiated out to all points of her body. She swallowed thickly as her rational mind fought her primal instincts for control of the person. “Umm. . . that’s -- that’s all well and good, but I -- I’m afraid that I am going to have to --”

Melanthe and Nysa stepped forward, taking delicate kisses and placing them on her neck and jaw. Gabrielle shuddered once as fingers lightly traced the skin around her breast and thigh. She craned her head to one side, catching a pair of lips and latching on to them. A second pair of lips began a slow series of drifting kisses that started from Gabrielle’s chin and followed the center line down her throat. Hands rubbed and massaged flesh along her thighs and back. Her hands dropped the wineskin, lifting up her arms to hold onto the nearest warm body. Her legs weakened under the need to be explored and touched. As she let go, hands cradled her to the soft grass, but never ceased their pleasing motions.

Time blurred while Gabrielle felt herself bouyed with emotion of such intensity, she couldn’t recall the beginning and she dreaded the ending. She lay on the ground, hands, fingers and other parts carressing her in places and ways that only one other person knew of. She pictured waves crashing, pounding relentlessly on the surf. Muscles strained and whimpered for release from the sensations. Her stomach and thighs shuddered as her center prepared to fling the bard over the edge in the escatitc ocean.

“Now is the mystery of winter. The mystery of death. Take it in hand.” Nysa whispered into Gabrielle’s ears as she was raised to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Her head pivoted to the side with a boneless twist. A young man, no older than sixteen seasons, stood with mouth agape in shock.

A new emotion bloomed and burned within her breast. Hate that dwarfed every other sensation that she had ever felt in her life exploded in her vision. Hate for Dahok, Callisto, Xena and every petty warlord that had endangered teh only true love she had ever known paled in comparison to this new feeling. Her limbs shook with a new energy, not the escatsy of lust, but the force of hatred. There was only one thing she knew to do.

She sprinted after the young man, her hands curled into claws and the wind pulled at her golden-red hair. Her legs pushed and pistoned faster to reach for the boy, who was now running for his life. Gabrielle heard mad cackling behind her. The boy looked over his shoulder and swore something that was lost to the breezes. He dodged left and Gabrielle anticipated his movement, but the other three went sailing by.

“PLEASE DON’T! I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING! I WON’T -- I WON’T SAY ANYTHING! DEAR GODS! DON’T!” The boy turned again, but this time he made the wrong move and Gabrielle saw her chance. With a powerful spring of her legs, she tackled the boy to the ground. They tumbled one over the other. If it wasn’t for the fact that the boy was pleading for his life, someone might have seen this and thought that it was a mere case of a pair of ardent lovers.

Gabrielle finally wrestled herself on top of the boy. Her hands flew down to the boy’s body grabbing at whatever part of exposed flesh revealed itself. A fist flew up at Gabrielle, glancing across her jaw. This only goaded her attaacks. Skin gave way to her nails, then pulpy muscles flew away under her rage. The cries became whimpers and finally grew silent. Gabrielle’s fury didn’t cease when she heard the boy’s final bubbling breath. Something grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back. She growled and lashed out with a taloned hand. Nysa blocked the blow with a hand and laughed. She pulled the woman and gave her a savage kiss. The other three joined in, smearing themselves and each other with blood in a gross parody of the previous act of passion. Gabrielle’s kisses and touches were not the light, tender ministrations hse had favored them with earlier. These were hard and furious -- bordering on the sadistic, but no one complained. Not once during the hours did Gabrielle say anything other than ‘more’.