The Ladder to Self-discovery (a repost)
((CW: Piercing/needles, genitals))
One thing Levyn understood was the sway of ritual and the bonding it created. Years of studying the Darkspear, integrating himself into their culture and teaching them about the use of the Light and language had resulted (to some distant personal trauma he cared only to forget) in his upheld title of Emissary. As a half-elf, he was less likely to be subjected to the criticisms related to the Sin’dorei, jeered at in good-natured ribbing on the subject of his parents’ rutting and yet respected enough to be allowed within their huts and way of life.
Without dwelling too much on the one negative experience that had shifted his perspectives on life, he often reveled in the fact that he was able to share so many enlightening and pleasant experiences with the Trolls. Tonight would be one to mark as high-ranking affair, where his unusual experiences were concerned, and he was mixed with trepidation and excitement.
The early evening was spent gathered around a bonfire with his peers, a feast of roasted boar sating the others while he plucked at his piece (a steadfast vegetarian) and claimed it was just nerves.
“Joo gonna pass out like’a maiden at da sight’a blood if ya don't eat,” his contact and companion Jez’ako stated with a snicker, plucking a hunk of Levyn’s meat away and inserting it into his own gullet. The half-elf elbowed him and joined in the laugh, a shake of his head rattling the now-braid-and-beaded sections of his blond hair.
“You always count me out before the game has begun,” he started with a wrinkling of his nose. “I’ll remind you that I would have beaten you at the last sparring match if you hadn't stepped on my fucking foot first.” They both knew it was partially a lie, though he was improving, and the small group whooped and bantered about it in boisterous cackling as the meal finished up.
There were some stories told around the flames, a tradition not easily lost amongst the tribal folk and Levyn found himself relaxing in the presence of new and old friends alike. It was only after that was finished that the lurch of his stomach began anew, a tiny group of them headed to a specific location with Lev in tow. The female Orc he remembered from their last expedition was giving him an eyeful, he could feel it burning the side of his face as they walked. It was only when he turned his pale hazel eyes up to her in acknowledgement that she spoke, her voice riddled with dark pleasure.
“You ever do something like this before, boy? You can always change your mind, you know.” He rolled his eyes and made a sweeping gesture to his point-blunted ears, adorned with a plethora of piercings and stretched lobes.
“Are you going first then?” he shot back, setting a hand to his hip for a moment before entering the large tent they were all siphoning into. She just snorted in response, shaking her head and giving him a wink.
It smelled heavily of incense already, the few peers he trusted already finding a spot to settle in. He wasn't looking forward to being on display in such a way but the ends justified the means where this type of rite was concerned. Jez draped a gangly limb over his shoulder, the half-breed being more of an arm rest at their difference in height, giving him a good-natured poke to the stomach.
“Joo know da drill. Dis time it jus’ be yer ass in da hot seat.”
Levyn swallowed hard and nodded, pulling down his thick cloth pants with no real fanfare. Until the adolescent cheering sounded out. As his Troll associate started to set out what was needed, the blond laid down on the woven blanket in the middle of where all the others were perched and centered his mind while watching the curling smoke of the scented cones nearby. His mind was drawn to what his husband would think, a curl of his plump lips at the most obvious response that would be given. Still, this was for no one else but himself.
The Troll squatted down alongside, finally, a crooked smile on his broken-tusked face as he lifted Levyn’s flaccid member without warning and cleaned the underside area in preparation. Another awkward discomfort. He heard the Orcess whisper a teasing comment to one of the others, which set them into another giddy fit of laughter. He took it in stride and stared up at Jez who, by the serious look on his green face, was ready to go. He patted Lev bracingly on the arm, letting out a small chortle of his own.
“Jus’ take dat breath an’ hold it bruddah. I tease ya but’joo know dere’s respect. Let's get da party started!” Another cacophony of positive vocal jousting rose up, though Levyn closed his lids and took a few stabilizing seconds to calm. He only nodded when he was prepared, Jez waiting for the loud suck of air before forcing the needle through the sensitive skin in one deft motion. It was a strong hot sear that lit every nerve on fire for a split second, hissing out the pain through gritted teeth. He felt hands clap on his bare thigh and foot from different angles, the revelry of his associates lessening the hurt. That is, until it happened again. Then once more. By that point, he felt physically ravaged even as the crew congratulated him on making it through with a few more penis quips slipped in for good measure. As he laid there on the cool woven covering, wiping at renegade stray tears from the corner of his eyes that arose simply in physical response, his thoughts turned to the future. The unknown.
He would no longer be a victim to falling. He now had the ladder to prove it. Zandalar would be within reach some day soon. He just had to keep climbing.
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