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Muriel just retired from the Coliseum. He decides it's time for a change. V tender.
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"All of it? You're sure?"
Muriel gives you a curt nod. He stiffens when your fingers brush his neck, gathering his hair in your hands.
You're in Muriel's hut, deep in the forest. He sits on a stool in front of you, but he's so tall that it doesn't make much of a difference. You still have to raise your arms to reach his long hair.
He closes his eyes as you begin working. You start by brushing his hair. You can tell Muriel hasn't had much love by how snarled his impressive mane is. You brush until it turns to black silk in your hands. It seems such a shame to cut it all off, but it's what he needs.
You pull out the scissors and pause, giving him one last chance to change his mind.
"You're really, truly sure?"
Muriel nods without opening his eyes.
"Here goes," you say.
You draw a long locke between your fingers and line up the scissors. Muriel takes a deep breath.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
Neither of you speak. The silence is too holy to be broken. If you make a sound, the ritual will fail. Your prayers will fall on deaf ears.
The black hair falls on the floor around you and dusts Muriel's broad shoulders. He flinches when the cold scissors touch his neck, but says nothing. It's over far faster than what it feels like.
"Okay," you say. "You're done."
Muriel reaches backwards, hesitates, then runs his hand through his newly cropped hair. It falls to his chin now; not quite as even as you'd like it to be.
You tuck a few strands behind his ear, letting your fingers run along his stubbled jaw.
"How does it feel?" you ask.
Muriel twists around but keeps his eyes lowered. It's good to see more of his face, you suppose. His brilliantly emerald eyes are wide and misty. He touches his hair again, like he can't really believe it's gone.
He finally looks up at you. He could be years younger.
Muriel opened his eyes. The roots that crossed the hut’s ceiling came into focus above him. The earliest rays of daylight pierced the gaps in the crooked door. It was quiet.
It was a plain morning like any other. Soon, Muriel would rise, stomach down his bland cooking, and do the chores. He would fetch water from the falls and patrol the protection spells. He would fetch firewood, do the washing, and feed the chickens. He’d look for eggs and weed the garden. If there was time in the evening, he might pull out his knife and whittle. He would be busy with meaningless work all day, like he had for many years, before she came into his life.
The hut seemed deadly silent without the sound of her steady breathing. Muriel had gotten used to her presence, but he supposed he never should’ve let himself. The chores never felt like chores when she around. They finished them twice as fast, passing the time with chatter. She did most of the talking. Muriel liked to listen.
There was always plenty of time to relax in the evenings. Some nights, Muriel would whittle as she read or wrote. Sometimes she would hum and braid his long hair. In the long summer afternoons, they might venture out for a picnic or a stroll. In the chill of winter, she would hold her warm body against his.
More than once, Muriel woke in the middle of the night, swearing he’d felt her soft lips pressing against his jaw, her hands sliding across his hips, her breath hot on his stubbled cheek.
But that was long ago. She was gone; gone never to return. All she left behind were a few stray hairs and some dusty clothes. Muriel was terrified that her memory would eventually fade with her physical things. Everyday her old clothes smelled less like her.
Muriel heaved a great sigh and rose, fighting not to look at her empty place in the bed. The blanket fell from his shoulders as his feet touched the floor. The cold air sent a shiver through him.
This is for @moxy-fruitbat, for her apprentice Laurene. It was supposed to be 500 words… but I suppose it got away from me a little. That explains why it took longer than I planned.
@i-am-arcana-trash, you’re next babe.
No warnings apply. 1623 Words
Laurene was nearly ready for the day. She’d already dressed and drawn on her usual cat-eye. As she braided her tawny hair, she watched Muriel dig through a basket of clothing. He stood up with a huff, broad shoulders bare to the world.
“What’s wrong?” Laurene asked.
“My cloak is gone,” he replied, scratching his shaggy head in frustration.
“I’m sure it’ll turn up,” Laurene said, reaching up to pat his shoulder. She was a round little witch, but Muriel was still much larger. Laurene hardly came up to his elbow.
Muriel slid a casual hand across her shoulders. “It’s warm out anyways,” he said.
“That’s the spirit,” Laurene replied, though she could see the disappointment in his face. She told herself that it would be worth it.
“Well, I’ll be back by nightfall,” Muriel said. He stooped to give Laurene a kiss on the cheek, then went out into the day.
Laurene waited for Muriel to leave, then dashed to the bed and lifted the mattress. There was Muriel’s cloak, but it hardly counted as a cloak anymore.
Laurene wasn’t sure how it happened. Perhaps Innana or her familiar, Philomena, had been playing with it outside and rolled too close the firepit. Perhaps Muriel had washed the cloak and left it by the fire to dry. Perhaps it had simply been blown by the wind. Whatever the case, Laurene had come home last night and found it smouldering one the ground, unbeknownst to its owner. The grey cloak was old, ratty, and far too small, but Muriel loved it.
She would make it right. Laurene shoved the cloak in her bag and left for the market.
It was September in Vesuvia; nearly Muriel’s birthday. It was warm outside, but autumn rains promised to come soon. After that, it would be a mild winter and Muriel would need his cloak.
As Laurene walked, she heard a familiar pur. Â She would recognize that sound anywhere.
The witch whirled around and planted her hands on her hips. There was a cougar stalking behind her, tail raised in a friendly greeting. Philomena was as solid and strong as Muriel; equipped with intense, yellow eyes. Her gaze fixed firmly on Laurene.
Laurene shook the cloak at the big cat. “Did you do this?”
Philomena tilted her head. Laurene sensed a negative answer.
“I believe you,” she said as she tucked the cloak back into her bag. “If I tell you a list, can you find some things for me?”
Philomena bobbed her head.
“Alright.” Laurene unfurled her list. “I need rosemary, an eagle feather, and pine boughs. Got it?”
The cat yawned, as if to sneer,”Is that all?”
“That’s all,” Laurene said. “I’ll meet you at the hut.”
Philomena bounded away, disappearing into the forest. Laurene went the rest of the way into town.
There was a vendor in the market who sold the strongest, most quality fabric in the land. Laurene had yet to purchase anything subpar from him, but he was a stingy man. He always asked a high price and drove a hard bargain.
The market was teeming with life, noisy with the chatter and hundreds of merchants and patrons. The little witch had to practically shove her way through the crowd.
The merchant recognized her from afar. He wore a smug grin.
“Well, well, well, back again I see,” he said as she approached. “Are you going to abide my prices this time, or are you just going to argue like a child?”
Laurene didn’t feel like doing the usual song and dance. “Please show me your wools,” she said.
“What? Speak up little girl, I can’t hear you.”
She was already getting irritated. “I said,” she began, “show me your wool.”
“Say no more,” the merchant said, dropping several bolts on the table between them.
Laurene inspected the goods, her eyes falling on a dusty shade of green that would suit Muriel perfectly. She reached out and felt the fabric, testing it’s stiffness with her fingers. It was heavy and sturdy; just what Muriel needed.
“Not your best,” she said. “What are you asking for this one?”
The merchant told her the price. Laurene scoffed. Even for him, that was high.
So the haggling began. Laurene told the merchant what she wanted to pay and he refused. Laureen dug her heels in.
“I’ll tell you what,” he finally said, “If you buy five yards, I give you another for free.”
Laurene was so frustrated, she thought she might cry. Her eyes prickled. The price was still too expensive. Laurene had walked away from this merchant before, but this was for Muriel. He deserved something nice.
“Fine,” she growled.
Laurene paid, tucked the roll of fabric under her arm, and went to pick up the rest of her supplies. She rushed back to the hut. Muriel would likely stay out all day, but she was losing time.
Philomena was already waiting beside the fireplace. Laurene had to hurry if she was to finish the cloak in time.
Laurene set to work with an enchanted needle. She used the ingredients Philomena brought her to make a mystic brew, tossing in black and grey embroidery floss. Philomena watched, twitching her long tail, as the witch toiled herself up to a fever.
She finished with moments to spare. Laurene washed the cloak in her brew, then hung it up a safe distance from the fire. She cast a breeze to make it dry faster, then rolled it up and stashed it away.
It was sunset when Muriel returned. Inanna trotted along after him, tongue lolling to the side. The giant man walked with an exhausted stoop, his bare skin pink with sun exposure. Laurene winced at the sight of him.
“Oh darling,” Laurene cooed, “come inside. I’ll rub some balm on you.”
Muriel sat on the floor with a sigh. Laurene worked balm into his irritated skin with gentle fingers. The muscles in his back and shoulders were firm from a lifetime of hard work. The stress he carried through the day made him feel tense. Her eyes barely registered all of the scars that crossed his flesh, now that she’d seen them so many times.
Inanna laid beside Philomena in front of the fireplace. The cat shifted, curling around the smaller creature. Inanna gave a contented huff.
“Better?” Laurene asked, resting her hands on his shoulders.
Muriel nodded, his eyes closed. He reached backward, took her by the wrist, and pulled her around to face him.
“What’s wrong?” Laurene asked.
Wordless, Muriel wrapped his arms around her hips and buried his face against her torso. He took a deep, long breath. She could feel the warm air through the fabric of her dress.
Laurene rubbed his head. “Rough day?”
He nodded.
“I have something that might make it better,” she said.
Muriel looked up at her, his square chin pressed against her belly. He looked tired, but his emerald eyes glittered with interest.
Laurene went to the bed and retrieved the cloak from under the mattress. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon. Muriel rose as she passed it to him.
She waited. Muriel stared at the package in the hands, holding it as if it was something delicate.
“Why so surprised?” Laurene asked. “It’s an early birthday gift.”
Muriel turned the package over, feeling it’s weight. “You didn’t have to,” he mumbled, casting his gaze aside.
“Can’t I get a birthday gift for my lover?” she asked. “Go on then.”
Muriel blushed, his lips pressed together. Laurene watched as he started prying the package open so, so carefully. He didn’t tear any paper. It opened like a lily in his hands and he caught a glimpse of the fabric, then shot Laurene a glance. He was wide-eyed with disbelief.
Laurene gave an encouraging nod.
Muriel handed her the packaging and unfurled the cloak. It was huge and heavy, trimmed with fabric recovered from Muriel’s old cloak. Grey and black sigils were embroidered along the edges, swirled like smoke against the green and grey.
“I don’t really know what happened to your old cloak,” Laurene said, “but it was ruined. I saved as much as I could.”
Muriel was wordless, still staring at the new cloak in front of him.
Laurene was starting to feel nervous. Perhaps it was an overstep. “Do you like it?” she asked.
Muriel lowered the cloak, feeling the soft inner lining with his fingers. “You made this?” he asked.
“Of course I did.”
“I… It’s…” Muriel opened and closed his mouth several times, like he couldn’t think of what to say.
Laurene waited.
“It’s… good,” he finally said.
“Good?”
“It’s perfect,” he said, finally looking at Laurene. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, just put it on.”
Muriel tossed the new cloak around his broad shoulders. It fell closed around his chest; a perfect fit. The green was beautiful against his tanned skin.
Muriel held out his arms and examined the detailed work, still in disbelief. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s given me,” he said, his voice soft.
Laurene felt her heart break a little. Muriel deserved all the nice things in the world.
He reached forward, taking Laurene by the shoulders. “Thank you,” he said as he pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you.”
Laurene pressed her face to his warm skin and smiled against his chest. Muriel rested his cheek on the top of her head. The cloak fell about Laurene’s shoulders, covering them both. They were quiet for a moment.
Laurene pulled back to look up at him. “So, you do like it?”
Muriel chuckled, kissed her forehead, and pulled her against himself again. He never really told Laurene an answer, but she didn’t need one.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Some important background is revealed for Julian and Eleanor. Muriel, poor thing, gets a much-needed nap.
Find it here
As an aside, some important notes:
Thank you for reading. I love seeing comments-Every time I get an email from ao3, I'm so, so, so excited.
We're about 80% done with the blood of sinners. Currently, I'm on chapter 48. My writing pace has slowed wayyyyy down since college returned last week. This isn't great news, since I want to stay well ahead in the manuscript. That gives me a little room to edit chapters for plot and clarity before posting.
I'm falling a bit far behind for comfort and there's a lot to do with school, so until further notice I'll only update on Fridays. I know it sucks to wait, but I want to deliver the best story i can!
Julian gets a warning. Eleanor gets into the warrior’s frame of mind. The cast members consider the meaning of strength before a cruel plan is revealed.
