FSE

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“Oh ho, so a lowly priestess thinks she can take on the goddess of lust?" The triple-layered voice fills the cold darkness of the night.

While a chill wind blows at the pumpkin patch, the armored fertility cleric holds onto her sacred pitchfork with no fear in her heart.

“Blair Garten," the demoness purrs, craggy hands scratching at her chest from behind. “You value that which is meaningless. Motherhood, marital commitment… These things are illusions created by society. Allow me to show you what truth there is in this world." Clawed fingers scratch the armor, dissolving the material with only a simple touch. Zelbia grabs her opponent's breast and slides fingers down over her front to between her legs.

“Why look for a man to fulfill your life? What a narrow-minded sentiment, settling for one man in a world with many possibilities."

Zelbia presses her hips up against Blair's butt, growling, rolling out a long and forked tongue all over the human's exposed neck. “I could be all of those lovers for you."

Blair breathes deeply, and whirls around, caressing the demon's back. She embraces her in a way to press their chests together, saying nothing as their heartbeats intermingle with intensity and compassion.

When Blair presses her lips to Zelbia's, the kiss isn't one of lustful desire, but of a more tender and nurturing nature.

One of the demon's voices screams in surprise and agony. Zelbia wrenches free from the farmer girl, infernal eyes blazing. “No, stay back you… you…" Her heel catches on a vine, sending her falling and crushing pumpkins from the second batch of the season.

Blair straddles her, lowering herself down, laying among the crop with her opponent—her lover for the evening.

The priestess kisses the demon once more, and Zelbia writhes beneath her, arching her own back, her body desiring, needing more.

Blair hugs her, hushing the whines of confusion with sweet nothings. “Maybe ah don't need ta find mahself a husband, but ah see someone who needs somethin' much more than ah."

Zelbia's cheeks stain with tears, or rather they are the tears of a woman thought long gone manifesting for the first time in a long, long time.

Allison Aldevan thought that she wanted freedom. She felt she needed to pursue greater knowledge. Many things she perceived to be her need in the dark and gated halls of the Aldevan estate. Her only company in her formative years were her books and the mirrors that revealed her horrific, inhuman appearance.

“How could a mother ever love such a creature?" Lady Winifreda Aldevan had said one time when Allison thought she could sneak into the main building. “She is no heiress to the great fashion empire. She is nothing more than a mistake."

Those words haunted her… words from her own mother when the woman thought she wouldn't hear. Those were the most truthful words that she had gotten from that family, and it was a truth that drove her further and further into her dark existence.

“Dear child," the dual voice from beyond would say, “You are perfect, but you are incomplete. Because you are a part of me brought into this world through that bitch. Now that we've found each other, I can show you what more we can be… together!"

Neither the words of her mother nor of her demonic sire are what Allison needed to hear. Neither cured the dread loneliness that suffuses her soul.

One voice emerges from Zelbia's three. The clawed hands grasp at Blair's hair, dissolving her headband and causing locks to spill over her shoulders. Through sobs, the demon-possessed woman kisses the priestess upon the lips, hands traveling down to feel the smooth skin along her back. Those hands, once serrated and dangerous, become soft and more human. The horrific malformation that Zelbia made into daring sexual traits melted back into the ugly marks that made Allison less-than-human to her kin.

When Allison's eyes flutter open, they are gray, sad, but hopeful.

“Howdy," Blair says, shifting to her knees and bringing Allison with her. “It's a pleasure to meetcha!"

“What did you do…?" Allison asks in her quiet, singular, voice.

Blair pats Allison's cheek, kissing the other one. “Nothin' much but what ya seemed ta need. Now, since this match is over, there's no reason we need to stop."

“I… wouldn't mind continuing…" Allison admits, nuzzling against the priestess in the crisp night air.

—

The next day, expensive shoes step through the pumpkin patch and dainty hands pinch at the stem at one particularly purple pumpkin. The squash yelps, a craggy face forming, spitting out seeds and pulpy flesh.

“Well, that's certainly not what I expected to see out of the great Zelbia," Elicia says.

Growling, the pumpkin rolls about. “That was a cheap trick! I'll get back at that girl in due time, just you wait and see!"

“That wasn't part of the deal," Elicia says. “You know you were supposed to make for a compelling final challenger in the grand finals—a foe worthy of the greatest champion to face at the culmination of this grand experiment."

“Please, I didn't think you were the kind to be someone else's pawn. Not even for someone like… like…"

Zelbia's voice trails off. Warmth and light trickle up the elf's back, and Elicia produces a pair of sunglasses from one of her gloves. Flicking them on, she turns to face the newcomer. “A pleasure that you would join us, Chairman. Is the charade finally over?"

“No," the echoing voice responds. “Zelbia is not yet through. The loss of a host will not be enough to end her participation in this most important battle."

The pumpkin floats up into the air, vines shooting out from the ground, wrapping around it. Zelbia stares out from one hollow eye at total awe at the power of the multi-faced being before her.

A moment later, she would forget all about that fear.