覇王将軍シェーラ

It's complicated and stupid Got my ass squeezed by sexy cupid

Sylphiel squats beside the apparently unconscious form of the beautiful blue-haired woman she has happened upon. She nudges the woman’s shoulder gently, eliciting no response.

“Uh, excuse me, Miss?  Are you… alright? And, ahm, what are you?”

Goodness, how rude that sounds.

Well, she looked human, but didn’t feel human.

Can you… heal mazoku with white magic? As long as it’s not holy magic it shouldn’t hurt, right?

She’d heard people talk about it - the effects of healing shamanism on mazoku targets - but she’d never tried it herself. 

But it’s not right to experiment on one’s patient without consent!

But she really might need help… Mazoku feed on shoki, so perhaps a spell which draws energy from nearby life to replenish the target?

“Resurrection?” Sylphiel whispered, hazarding the tiniest, most tentative instance in the history of the spell. 

At first it was beautiful, Sherra’s broken physical body bathed in soft white light that slowly rose up from the ground below, wreathing it in wispy halos of energy that encircled her. 

Beautiful perhaps, until her body burst suddenly into bright blue flames that quickly spread out into a much larger area than her small form might have suggested.

Though they also engulfed her, the flames were harmless to the raven-haired priestess. Somewhat similar to a violent chemical reaction, they rose quickly in intensity before dying down and vanishing, leaving no sign of the mock-human form the mazoku took.

Instead in it’s place was an abstract form, crystalline, oddly shaped, strangely damaged looking. The silvery crystal-thing was just a bit larger than Sylphiel herself and floated upright rather shakily. Bits of it’s structure dropping off and dissipating before hitting the ground.

Though it had no mouth to speak of, a faint groaning with a feminine voice emanated from it. It appears the resurrection spell had some kind of effect in reviving the mazoku but had also stripped away the constructed veneers one such being puts upon itself in this plane. Was this perhaps her true form?

Without allowing any time for pondering or chat, a longer, arm-like crystal fragment of her form raised itself to the priestess’ pale face…and booped her nose.

Sherra retreated instantly afterwards to the astral plane, a soft voice on the wind left behind her.

send in a ‘💝’ for a random special valentine’s day kiss

8. on the collar bone

Xelloss and Sherra have been sparring for the past six hours. The entire vicinity is a battered charred wasteland, trees uprooted, dirt steaming and smoking from the remains of fire.  The Lesser Beast’s whole advanced projection sweats and flushes as though this humanoid body were real, glossy hair in unusual disarray.  His gloves are removed, and so is his cloak.  He’s proud of the accuracy of his illusion, and he’s not about to make it look comelier for the sake of vanity.  

Sherra, for her part, seems exhilarated: her overcoat is missing and her shirt collar is unbuttoned. 

In a moment of sly opportunism, Xelloss lunges.  He knees her groin and parries her sword with his staff.  He catches her jaw in his hand and then he presses his lips hard to her collarbone. He suckles unforgivingly.  The illusion of hot breath beats against her chilly pale clavicle.  

And in the fleeting window provided, he hopes, by shock and arousal, he disarms her entirely of Dulgofa.  

    “Check.” 

Her wild daydreaming allows Xelloss to catch her off-guard, taking a swift kick to the front-butt as Dulgofar is tossed carelessly out of her hand and hovers nearby.

As the dog's lips mercilessly attack her collarbone in the final surprise onslaught, she turns an impressive shade of red that quite clashes the blue of most of the rest of her. "How dare you! Remove yourself from my person immediately! Dynast-sama will hear about this! You'll be in SO much trouble!"

Or, at least... ...this is what she meant to say.

To Xelloss ears, it rather came out like a bundle of incoherent blathering punctuated with a shrill squeak at the end.

“You’re trash and so is your mom.”

“You’re a monster.”