The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ásdís’s antennae twitched as she craned her neck back, her gloved fingers straining to squeeze every last drop from her waterskin. She licked her parched lips, panting, squinting against the blazing sun. Even in her hooded cloak, still the light beat down, dazzling her, reminding her cruelly of her plight.

Ásdís had lost everything in the last few weeks. Everything, she thought, but that wicked sun, and the screaming whistle winds above.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve as she lowered the waterskin back into her satchel. Well, that was a little melodramatic, maybe.

It had been two weeks since Ásdís had left the village. Two weeks since her training had completed, and she had been advised by her mentors to head north. This was a bitter note for her—she’d practically begged for an assignment in the Mountains, but the Mountains’ lodges were all occupied, and the Northern Reaches were, to contrast, starving for protectors.

There was a reason for that, the dopterine thought sourly, fluttering her wings for a little breeze as she picked her way between the towering stone pillars that rose across the badlands like a porcupine’s quills—or like an underground city of giants with only its massive chimneys visible.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, as it brightened her spirits a little to imagine. A whole city of giants living just underground, totally oblivious to her journey. It was a silly idea, but then again, the Northern Reaches didn’t see a lot of travelers to and fro. Who knew what lay under the surface here?

The mothgirl danced across the barren rocky landscape with the grace of a ballet dancer, making an idle game of picking out spots of flat ground that didn’t have potentially slippery or boot-stabbing pebbles or vicious goatheads to worry about. There was precious else to do.

The problem with sending a Toxin Ranger up north, she thought, rolling her eyes, was that she had been trained for the Mountains! She knew so well how to make her way up in the slopes and snowy peaks of her homeland—she knew how to hide from the mountain predators, how to negotiate with the spring nixies and scrub fairies and mirror naiads, which berries were safe to eat and which fey could be trusted, how to get water from the ice.

But down in the badlands? Her heart raced as she fluttered a little higher, trying once again to get her barrens. Down here there was nothing. Nothing but her instincts, calibrated for the wrong terrain entirely. Nothing but her instincts against the burning sun and freezing nights and windswept spires.

She couldn’t even see the Mountains anymore. Even though she knew better, she turned to stare back south, and her heart spun in instinctive fright, her wings fluttering faster. The flat horizon, spiked only by this forest of cruel stone, felt emptier and more menacing than any snarling mountain lion or treacherous cliff ledge.

Ásdís had never, ever left the Mountains before in her life.

The badlands weren’t even flat—they had their own slopes, but the cliffs fell down into the earth, now, rather than rising and falling into the clouds. Her heart quaked as she spotted a ravine just around the corner from her current destination. She couldn’t even see the bottom, and the thought of falling down there, and not having room to fly back out…

Back home, the cliffs gave way to sky. Here, the cliffs drew down into the abyss. To contrast, the horizon was like gazing down from the tallest peak. Ásdís’s breath started to come in faster as she bobbed in the air, staring at the blazing sun’s descent in the western sky, imagining gravity remembering itself and her being dropped down into that void of teeth and open air… she could almost feel the world pulsing around her as she spun to face the eastern expanse, then the north, and it was all nothing, and the world was pulsing like drumbeats—and she realized it was her own pounding heart, realized she wasn’t breathing—

Ásdís tore her gaze away and dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, clutching her head, eyes closed, trying to drive the fear from her quaking body.

It felt almost pathetic, being afraid of open spaces and feeling claustrophobic at the fairy chimneys all around her. The world just felt wrong. It felt twisted. Like she’d been tossed into a warped dimension and everything had been torn apart and put back together ill-fit.

It didn’t help, she thought, feeling her stomach rumbling, that she was out of provisions, out of water, and almost totally lost.

The mothgirl forced herself to press on, using the sun as her guide—a fleeting guide, for sure, with the sun approaching the empty horizon she dared not look at and no helpful mossy trees in sight to point her way.

She tried to keep her spirit shigh. She just had to find an oasis, or a town, or the like, before she… well. Before the lack of water started to be a problem. That couldn’t be too hard, right? Even just a little stream. Mountain Folk were no stranger to occasional hungry times, but going without water was quite another matter.

Anything other than the burning red cloudless sky and the burnt umber landscape would be a comfort, she thought, biting her lip. And a roof over her head, walls around her, a comfortable place to sit and take off her confining boots and relax…

Ásdís was so lost in her fantasies, she almost didn’t notice the patch of green until she was upon it.

The mothgirl stopped short, her heart leaping into her throat as she stared at a genuinely verdant patch of greenery at the base of an especially massive fairy chimney. She didn’t even believe her eyes for a moment.

But she had come upon what appeared to be a large patch of plump, ruby-red strawberries.

Immediately, Ásdísis’ hunger and thirst rose to do battle with a panicked scrap of caution. She didn’t know for sure that these were strawberries. It made no sense for them to be growing out here. Surely this was the work of a berry dryad, or one of the fey in her little booklet that she simply hadn’t studied enough. The Northern Reaches were infamous for their cursed grounds—surely this was too perfect of a coincidence.

But despite herself, Ásdís found herself sinking to her knees, staring in rapt fixation at the beautiful berries. They glittered back at her in the dusky light, seeds shimmering like tiny inlaid gemstones, shining with seductive allure.

Her gloved fingers crept out slowly towards the berry patch, then retracted. No, she told herself. It wasn’t… wasn’t…

Her tummy rumbled. The rational part of Ásdís’s mind sank beneath the tide of hunger as the rookie Toxin Ranger reached out and plucked a berry from the runners.

The berry was soft, as red as a cupid’s lips. Ásdís felt her mouth watering as she imagined how sweet it would taste.

It was just a strawberry, she told herself, swallowing. Wild strawberries weren’t uncommon. Clearly there was just some sort of oasis nearby here. She did see more scrub and bushes around the pillar, in fact—perhaps an underground spring? She dug her fingernail into the strawberry, positively melting inside at the juices that dribbled out over her fingertip, and smelled nothing out of the ordinary—none of the trademark spice or excessive sweetness or tanginess that tended to accompany spelled foods.

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Ásdís dug out the leaves and popped the strawberry whole into her mouth. Three more quickly followed.

Her eyes closed. She actually heard herself moan aloud as she bit down and flavor erupted in her mouth. Her lips parted in ecstatic relief. Juices dribbled out the corners of her mouth.

Then she realized what she was tasting, and her eyes screwed tightly shut, and she grimaced.

These berries were the sourest things she’d ever tasted. She opened her eyes and glared down at the berry patch, as her lips puckered into a little cherry shape of displeasure.

But... her mouth watered. They were ripe. They were juicy. And fey magic rarely came sour, that she knew of.

She couldn’t help herself. Ásdís plucked more berries from the berry patch—just a couple at first, and then she totally lost control, and she was grabbing handfuls of them—even pink ones that weren’t all ripe yet, even ones that were getting a little soft and wrinkly from too much sun—and devouring them whole, leaves and all. The sourness was unbearable, but they were edible, and she licked the juices from her fingers and lips and cheeks, not wanting to waste a single drop.

The strawberry bed was a mess, ripped and shredded in her desperation. She was so hungry, even though pangs of guilt chimed in her heart. Would a true Toxin Ranger be so reckless? She’d worked so hard to persuade the elders that she was ready. She’d desperately promised to be careful, to show good sense, to… to not eat strange foods.

But maybe they’d have seen it differently if they were as hungry as she was, she thought, her sourness matching the fruits as she plucked off four more and devoured them in seconds. She wasn’t being reckless! She’d been careful! And besides, these were just ordinary strawberries!

The little carved wooden label lying half-buried beneath the runners and the soil told her so.

Ásdís stared blankly, still chewing. She reached down, blinking large eyes, and picked up the little garden stake. It was finely-crafted, in a rustic, make-do kind of way, engraved with the little relief carving, crude but easily understood, of a strawberry. Faded inked letters spelled below: Su e St awb r y.

Sunset Strawberries were, Ásdís recalled with a sinking feeling in her stomach, a popular strain grown down in the Sagebrush and other dry flatlands, good at drinking up all available water with especially deep roots and producing small quantities of especially beautiful, luscious berries.

This wasn’t a conveniently-placed wild patch, nor was it an insidious fey trap. At first, Ásdís had the absurdly silly idea that her ‘giants in the earth’ notion had been correct. But then she realized the truth.

Ásdís gulped, and she looked up at the massive fairy chimney that the strawberry patch and surrounding greenery ‘happened’ to be growing around.

Many of the hoodoos were especially bulbous at the top, in some strange whim of wind and rain and long-past ice that Ásdís couldn’t begin to understand. It gave them the appearance almost of great towers, or, um, well… Ásdís blushed, embarrassed at the crude alternative comparison.

This one in particular had an especially large top, and now that Ásdís was looking, she could see that carved into the side was… She stood up and backed away to see more clearly.

A deep alcove had been carved into the side, and in that alcove stood a door. It was a front porch. And there were windows of smoky colored glass, and from the top billowed smoke from an actual little clay chimney.

Ásdís hadn’t gotten lucky with a wild berry patch.

She had just desecrated somebody’s little garden.

Immediately, the suppressed guilt came flooding back stronger than ever, now with a purpose. Why don’t you think? the dopterine thought, feeling her pale lavender face blushing a deep, hot pink. All you had to do was look up! All you had to do was not stare at the ground like a great, big blundering beetle!

She had to apologize, she knew. She had to make amends. And she had to pray... She swallowed, fluttering into the air and making her way to the top of the spire. She had to pray that whoever lived here wouldn’t be too angry to give her directions to the nearest town.

Whoever it was probably wouldn’t be dangerous, she hoped, if they were just growing ordinary strawberries. She licked her lips, frowning. Horribly sour strawberries, but perhaps the dry season was a bad time for them. And she wasn’t about to make complaints to her hopefully-host when she only knew the taste because she’d ransacked their garden.

Ásdís was halfway there when she remembered why she hadn’t been flying so high before.

And then the winds picked up, and the dopterine gave a squeak of fright as her fluttering, delicate little moth wings suddenly found themselves buffeted and punished like a poppy being fought over by three petulant children.

“Crumbs!” she cried, as her topknot came undone and her curly pink hair billowed in her face. She whirled about, disoriented, scrambling to clear her vision as her wings fought desperately against the roaring tide. She got her hair out of her face, only for her massive violet pupils to be dazzled by an accidental glance toward the sunset.

Ásdís’s arms lunged out as she felt her wings failing her, and she scrambled for a handhold, a foothold, anything. Her fingers grasped at rough but unpocked stone, and the knee of her trousers ripped as she scraped the side painfully—

And her hand grasped the edge of the little alcove, and on pure adrenaline, she folded her wings safely against her body, to keep them from carrying her off like sails, and scrambled all the way up and onto the front porch.

She lay there, curled up, panting desperately for breath, knee stinging and head spinning and eyes blinking away blazing comets and sharp, spiky galaxies…

“Oh, you poor thing.“

Ásdís looked up, startled, eyelids still fluttering. Her vision was still messed up, as dopterine eyes tended to struggle with vivid color, but she realized that the door was open.

And there was a figure standing in the doorway, staring down at her with a look Ásdís couldn’t interpret because faces were still a blur of white and pink and blue.

“Are you okay?” the figure asked, head tilting to the side. They seemed to be wearing a strange hat, or something—something was sticking out from the sides of her head. Ásdís couldn’t make it out, but when the figure reached down, Ásdís took their hand and let them help her to her feet. “Can you understand me, dear?” Their voice was high, melodic, delicate, like aluminum windchimes.

“Y-Yeah.” As Ásdís rose shakily to her feet, her vision began to clear. She blinked rapidly, shyly kicking her right foot behind her left, as she saw the speaker more and more vividly.

The speaker was a gorgeous human woman—or, well, not human, Ásdís noted, blinking up at those two massive curving horns, and that twitching tufted tail behind her, but human-like—wearing a pretty blue sundress.

Her face was clear of blemishes, with deep magenta lips that seemed to glisten in the fading light like morning dew. Her eyes were a depe, vivid hazel flecked with positively electric green glow, and her hair was a beautiful burning chestnut brown, shimmering as it spilled down to her shoulders.

Ásdís struggled to keep her eyes there, at face level—no easy feat, especially with how dizzy she was, and how much shorter she was than this woman. It was all too easy to let her eyes drift lower, over that low-cut neckline, those massive, beautiful breasts that filled out the dress like...

Ásdís swallowed, feeling her cheeks heating and hoping she wasn’t blushing too bright against her freckles. “Um. I mean, yes. Yes, I can understand you, and y-yes, I’m fine.” She glanced down sheepishly at her dusty attire. “Just... scraped my knee a little bit getting up here.”

“I can see!” The woman frowned, putting a finger to her lips. “I’m awfully sorry, I would have lowered the lift had I known...”

“Oh.” Ásdís blinked behind the woman, spotting a basket contraption just on the other side of the doorway. “W-Well... that’s how it, um, goes sometimes, I guess!” She gave a bright smile and extended a hand, remembering her village manners. “My name is Ásdís Haust, Toxin Ranger of... of the Northern Reaches! it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, um, Miss...?”

“Aura.” The woman smiled slightly. “Goodness, I almost didn’t see that clasp!”

“Oh! Yes!” Ásdís nodded and giggled shyly down at her clasp, which was dusty indeed. The clasp depicted a mushroom, the trademark of her Ranger order. “Um, well, it’s very nice to meet you, Miss Aura!”

“Just Aura is fine for now, dear,” Aura said, giggling as well. “You’re very polite!”

“I was raised to be, M—Aura.” Ásdís beamed proudly. She tilted her head slightly, feeling her antennae twitching as her curiosity got the better of her. “Um, Aura, what are those, may I ask?” Aura was clearly not human. She couldn’t be a demon—there weren’t any freed demons known in the Northern Reaches since the end of the Horny War, and if there were, surely Ásdís wouldn’t have been sent That was Rift Ranger business. Aura was clearly a fey.

“Hm? Oh, these?” Aura blinked at Ásdís, seeming a little surprised. “Don’t tell me you’ve never met a... a cowgirl before?”

Ásdís cocked her head to the other side. “No, Miss! I only just graduated, though. I’ve been training the past five years back home, and we haven’t got any cowgirls there!” She paused. “At least, none I’ve heard of.”

She didn’t want to admit to this stranger—whose protection Ásdís was probably responsible for—that she had almost never left the village even while training, blessed and cursed with a bounty of seasoned Rangers in the area only too happy to teach her everything they knew. She especially didn’t want to admit that she’d met lamost no fey at all, aside from a few fairies. The rest was just... theory, and study. But she had studied well!

Studied mountain fey, anyways.

“I see!” Aura’s smile widened. “Well... oh, dear, it is windy out, isn’t it?” Ásdís had shivered as the breeze picked up. “Honestly, that’s why the lfit wasn’t lowered today. Normally it’s down for any travelers who may happen by, but with the winds...” She reached for Ásdís’s shoulder. “Would you like to come inside, dear?“

“Oh! Yes! Yes, thank you!” Ásdís beamed and bobbed her head, eagerly popping into the little cottage—though she tried to politely shrug off the hand, not wanting to seem like she was just letting herself be led around. “Thank you so much, Miss! I mean, Aura!” She looked around the cottage in wonder, startled at the way the stained red glass—so precious, and surely brought here at massive expense—made the whole chamber glow with rosy light. It didn’t feel like a cave at all. It was snug, but cool, and decorated with pretty woven carpets and surprisingly fine furniture. In the corner smoldered a rustic brick beehive oven, its faint crackling accompanying the steady, easy-going heat of low-burning flames.

Aura seemed to be rather wealthy, or else things like this were much easier to come across up in the Northern Reaches than the Mountains.

“Not at all! Not at all! Here, dear, let me fix you something to eat.” Aura tutted as she led Ásdís to the table, a beautiful bleached-white feat of carpentry with lacy abstract patterns carved into its surface like scrimshaw. “You must be starving!”

“Thirsty, mainly.” Ásdís bit her lip as she sat down in the chair—there was only one, which made sense for a hermit, but did make her feel a little guilty. “It’s... I mean, not that I can’t find water, but—well, it’s—”

“It’s different down here in the badlands,” Aura finished after a pause, as she swept over to the cooking area. Ásdís watched her hips sway, then blushed and tried to concentrate on the pretty pink crystal chandelier hanging above them, each candle glowing with very faint twinkling light. “Of course it is, dear. That’s not your fault. Water does not come cheaply out here.”

“... right.” Ásdís felt a hollow pit in her side as she remembered how casually she had ruined Aura’s garden. “Um... so, I wanted to apologize, actually. I—I kind of destroyed your sunset strawberries.”

A pause. “My what?”

Ásdís hesitated. Aura didn’t sound angry, exactly, but her back was turned right now. Ásdís couldn’t see the cowgirl’s face. She licked her lips and swallowed her fear. “Your sunset strawberries, Miss. I... I didn’t know they were yours. The—The sign had fallen over, and I was, um. I didn’t mean to.” The excuses sounded pathetic and unconvincing even to her.

There was another pause.

Aura turned back, and to Ásdís’s intense relief, she was smiling. “Oh, not to worry, dear!” She walked over, now holding a glass of milk and a bowl of steaming something. As it came closer, Ásdís could smell the maple and wheaty richness, and realized it was porridge. “Please, this isn’t even the picking season. I don’t even bother with them this time of year!“

“Oh!” Ásdís blinked, caught off-guard. “Really? They were, um...”

“I imagine they were quite sour, hm?” Aura asked, leaning over to murmur right in Ásdís’s ear.

“Y-Yes, Aura.” Ásdís felt her cheeks heating up. Aura was rather close right now, and her sweet, calming voice was... nice. Nice to listen to. Ásdís had always been sensitive, and she could feel the tingles spreading through her at the softness of the voice.

“I’ll put another spoonful of sugar in, then!” Aura giggled, sashaying around to set the bowl of porridge before Ásdís. Moving with fluid grace, she took Ásdís’s spoon from her and scooped a hefty helping of additional maple sugar from the sugar bowl, plopping it in and stirring it casually. “We can’t have that taste lingering with you and spoiling your appetite, can we?”

“Quite the opposite, really?” Ásdís grinned. “Begging your pardon, Aura, but I am starving right now!” The porridge looked deliciously creamy, and it smelled nutty and filling. The milk looked even better right now, though.

“Really!” Aura reached over and dragged a stool over, plopping herself down on the opposite side from Ásdís. She smiled happily as Ásdís took the glass in both hands and greedily guzzled it down, heedless of manners. It was creamy and a little sweet, but cool, and it soothed both the lingering sourness and her sandy thirst in a matter of gulps. “Do they not send you up with provisions, Ásdís? I’ve never met a Toxin Ranger before!”

Ásdís lowered the glass and wiped her mouth with her sleeve—then noticed the napkin and felt herself flashing bright pink as she realized what it was most likely there for. “Well, I’ve never met a cowgirl before!” she said, belatedly taking the napkin and patting at her lips as if she knew how to use it. “Or a cow, for that matter. And they do send us up with provisions, but, well...” She scowled down at the bowl. “Honestly! I was supposed to reach the Bluebottle Road by now, and instead I’m still out here wandering these was—these lovely badlands of yours.“

“Oh, of course!” Aura nodded, positively radiating sympathy. Ásdís felt a little vindicated, in fact. She usually didn’t like to complain, but she had a lot of energy, and Aura was asking... “That’s very natural. Most people have trouble navigating, even seasoned explorers. I met a Spirit Ranger once who had been lost here for weeks, and she kept having to come back here again and again to re-stock!“

“Really?” Ásdís felt her heart sinking. If a seasoned Spirit Ranger had gotten lost so many times, even after making it this far... “Do you have any, um, advice?” She glanced down at the bowl, and couldn’t help it—she began spooning the porridge into her mouth, and gave a loud, “Mm!” of satisfaction. It was absolutely delicious, and exactly what she needed after a long day’s hard travel.

“I can make you a map, dearest,” Aura said smoothly, leaning over the table slightly. “The Spirit Ranger just wouldn’t let me.”

“Why not, Miss?”

“‘Aura’ is fine, dear.” Aura’s voice was patient, as was her smile.

Ásdís blushed. “R-Right. Why not, Aura?”

Aura sighed. “Well… some girls can be terribly proud, you see.“

“Oh. Mm.” Ásdís swallowed and wiped her mouth—with her napkin, this time. It was such a pretty thing, of fine pink lace, it seemed almost a shame to dirty it, and she made sure to use only the tiniest corner. “Well, that’s just foolish. We’re taught among the Toxin Rangers to always work with the locals when we can. It’s practically part of our edicts.“

“The Spirit Rangers are a proud order.” Ásdís smiled. “Very independent. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell an expert Toxin Ranger about other orders!”

“O-Of course not.” Ásdís nodded quickly. Had she said she was a rookie yet? If she hadn’t, it… well, it seemed a shame to let that slip now. People up north didn’t need to know how inexperienced with the outside world she really was. It would be nice to be held in some respect for once! “Of course I know how they can be. But it’s important to respect the local, um, customs and such. You have to...” She paused to take another mouthful of porridge (and to buy time to remember the word), noticing it was already half gone. Belatedly, it occurred to her that this porridge could have been drugged, and she hadn’t thought to check it. That was a little embarrassing. But she didn’t feel any different right now. Just hyper, and shy, and a little... well, those weren’t anything new. “You have to defer, since you aren’t there to be in charge. You’re there to assist if they ask you to. That’s all a community really needs.“

This was something taught with special firmness in the Mountains, she thought privately. The Toxin Rangers didn’t tell communities what to do, especially when they weren’t from around there. Not like the Nyaskan Guard, who liked to strut down roads like they owned them and expected everyone to call them ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’.

“That’s a lovely way to see it. ‘Defer’.” Aura nodded, eyes sparkling with interest. “So ultimately, a Ranger is subordinate to their community.”

“Mm-hm!” Ásdís nodded absently, still thinking about home. Oh, how she missed home. Aside from the soldiers. She didn’t miss them. They, and the Chosen, were why she’d decided to go north, and not south.

“I like that.” Aura glanced at the glass with a slight smirk. “Would you like more milk, dear?”

“Mm. Um.” Ásdís swallowed quickly, blinking big eyes up at Aura as the cowgirl rose. A thought occurred to her. “A, um... a cow’s sort of like a goat, right?”

Aura blinked. “I... beg your pardon?”

“A goat.” Ásdís bit her lip. “I-I mean, um, um.” Aur ahad come to stand right before her, and Ásdís was staring up past Aura’s massive bosom to stare into those pretty hazel eyes. “Um,” she squeaked, suddenly very, very conscious of her size, “I... I mean, a goat, um. Is. We. We milk them. And. And cows.” Her face was suddenly on fire, she was sure, drowning her little pink freckles in a sea of flames. “Nevermind,” she squeaked, and looked down at her porridge, clutching her hands in her lap.

“Are you wondering if cowgirls have milk, dear?” Aura asked softly, leaning over slightly. Ásdís shook her head minutely, desperately avoiding Aura’s gaze. “Ásdís, dear? Is that what you’re wondering?” Ásdís heistated, feeling called out, as if Aura knew exactly what the answer was and just wanted Ásdís to admit it. She gave a tiny nod. “And you’re wondering something about that?“

Ásdís swallowed, and forced herself to meet Aura’s eyes again. “I-I was just...” She glanced nervously at the glass in Aura’s hand. “A-And, I mean, it’s fine, I mean, I just—“

“Feral cattle aren’t too uncommon around here,” Aura said smoothly, reaching down to pat Ásdís’s hand—and force her to stop wringing her hands together. “Every now and then I go to collect some, and I keep it in an icebox. Does that answer your question?”

Ásdís blinked up at Aura. She blinked rapidly, feeling as if she could hide behind her thick, dark lashes. But Aura’s beautiful eyes held her. “Y-Yes,” she said meekly.

“Good girl,” Aura said, patting Ásdís’s cheek and turning away. Unseen to Aura, Ásdís felt her faze light up like a hellish inferno. “You certainly are new, aren’t you? Well, ah, in case you’re wondering, cowgirls do lactate, but there’s no significant power to that milk, I promise you.“

“Right.” Ásdís buried her face in her hands. “Right.” She remained there until Aura came back with a refill, and then she meekly accepted it. “Thank you, Aura.”

“Not at all!” Aura’s tone was cool, mellow, mild, encouraging, as if she sensed Ásdís’s terrible embarrassment and wanted to put Ásdís a little at ease. “Dear, I quite like having someone to tend to right now. You’ve done me a wonderful favor. And I don’t want you to be worried!“

“R-Right.” Ásdís bit her lip as Aura sat across from her again. “Well...” She struggled, unsure what to say.

But luckily, Aura was always ready with more questions.

“I was actually wondering,” Aura said lightly, tapping her fingernails along the table’s engraving, “What it’s like up there in the Mountains! You don’t have cows, you say?”

“Mmm… nuh-uh.” Ásdís bounced lightly in her seat, relieved at the subject change, as she spooned another mouthful of porridge into her mouth. “Th-This’s so good, by the way!”

“Aw, thank you, Ásdís!” Aura’s eyes shined with happiness. “Though you seem famished, so I’m just glad I’m able to fill you up!“

“You can try!” Ásdís giggled, then flushed at how confident that sounded. “I have a terrible appetite back home,” she added quickly, glancing around Aura’s home, trying to keep from letting her energy run her tongue away from her too freely. “We don’t have cows, or any large pack animals, really. Sometimes dire goats, but those are expensive! Easier to manage a couple of smaller goats, you know?” She kicked her feet idly a moment before finding a comfortable resting place for them on the chair’s spindle.

“That makes sense,” Aura said, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.

Ásdís nodded rapidly. “Goats don’t have milk nearly so sweet as this,” she gestured at the glass, then giggled. “Is all cow milk like that?“

“Oh, no.” Aura shook her head. “In fact—”

“It’s really good, though!” Ásdís said quickly, eyes widening as she realized this could come across like an insult. “I always heard cow milk was, like, bland, you know? But this is… mm, it’s almost...”

Her antennae twitched and bobbed with excitement as she paused to eat some more porridge. She couldn’t quite place the flavor. It reminded her of a cream rum drink she’d had once, three years into her Ranger training, when she’d hit the Toxin Ranger-approved drinking age of twenty-two. She gulped it down nonetheless, savoring the nutty, slightly spicy flavor of the porridge. “I dunno, but it’s delicious!

“I’m glad!” Aura beamed with pride. “You seemed like you deserved a treat.”

Ásdís’s head bobbed idly as she tried to remember what she’d been talking about. It felt so nice to talk to someone else, she realized—she hated talking to herself, usually. The sound of her own voice echoing back at her from the cliffs had always unnerved her. But when she had someone else’s ear to talk off... “Yeah, but anyways, life in the Mountains… it’s nice! You can see the stars so much more clearly up there, and the villages stay in a lot of contact.” Finishing the porridge, she tapped her fingers against the wood of the table, admiring the chandelier above them. “That’s really pretty, by the way. Anyways, there’s always something going on in the village! Always some drama or, like, event, or little tiny crisis that needs us to intervene.”

“Are they all little moths like you, Ásdís?”

“N-No,” Ásdís said, hesitating on that phrase. Little. She wasn’t used to being called that, but Aura was awfully tall… and curvy… “My village had mostly humans and dopterines, but a lot of goblin maids, too. And I’m, um, tall, for a dopterine, and most of the humans were either very old or very young, owing to the…” She paused. She didn’t want to talk about the collection drafts right now. “So I was actually one of the tallest people there.“

“Goodness!” Aura visibly failed to conceal a giggle. “What a sight that must have been.”

Ásdís couldn’t help but giggle, too. “Yeah, it was weird. It’s nice not being the tallest person in the room, though.”

“Oh?”

“Being tall gets you attention.” Ásdís frowned. “Bad attention.”

“... oh.”

“Like, I was always the one Widow Tam asked to reach stuff from her top shelves, even though any dopterine could’ve reached it! And whenever there was a baby bird that fell out of its nest, the kids would come and ask me what to do about it!“

“... oh!” Aura giggled. “Well, that must have been tiresome, being responsible for everything.”

“W-Well, I didn’t mind!” Ásdís drew herself up straight. “That’s a Toxin Ranger’s job, Miss! I mean, Aura! And I like being able to help, I really do! But, well, it’s a lot of… responsibility, I guess.” She bit her lip, suddenly feeling a little shy. She’d told Aura a lot, and she hoped she wasn’t boring her—or that Aura didn’t think her foolish or petty for resenting her admittedly trivial duties back home. Her antennae twitched with nerves.

“I was meaning to ask,” Aura said, raising an eyebrow as she leaned over the table slightly, “about those pretty little tufts of yours.”

Ásdís blinked. “You mean my antennae?” She reached up and daintily touched one of them, making sure no stray porridge had somehow gotten on it. The fuzzy fanning pale pink ‘feathers’ twitched at her touch. “What about them? They’re just ordinary dopterine antennae. They don’t do anything special.”

“Really? Nothing at all?”

“Well…” Ásdís frowned slightly, tugging her antennae down very gently to look at it. It twitched in her grasp, and she released it, feeling tingles spreading through her. “It’s very s-sensitive, for one thing,” she said. “And some dopterines can make illusions with them. But I never learned more than the basics with that, and, I mean…” She blushed. “I usually just end up hypnotizing myself half the time, because the colors get out of control.”

“Oh my! More, dear?”

“Uh-huh! I-I mean—” Ásdís smiled gratefully, and a little shamefaced, as Aura rose from her chair, circled around, and took the bowl from her to refill it with more delicious porridge. “I-I mean, I can get it—”

“No, no, dear~” Aura’s voice was positively singsong as she bustled to the counter. “I know how to make it just right.”

“B-But—”

“You just sit there and stay comfy, okay, sweetie? I’m already up, after all.”

“O-Okay.” Ásdís bit her upper lip, flustered but not knowing how to argue with Aura—especially when Aura was just trying to be kind to her. Aura was being incredibly kind to her.

A little self-consciously, while Aura’s back was turned, Ásdís glanced at her reflection in her spoon and quickly adjusted her hair—the rosy-pink curls bounced messily around her face due to her hair tie being lost in the wind, and they only seemed to make her meddlesome little pink freckles stand out more against her pale lavender cheeks.

“Good girl,” Aura said sweetly from right behind her, causing Ásdís’s face to go so very deep pink that her freckles became quite invisible. “And those wings can actually fly? I didn’t know it was possible.”

“U-Um,” Ásdís dropped the spoon and wrung her hands in her lap, staring shamefaced at the porridge bowl placed before her, “um, well, um, yes!” She blinked up at Aura, who smiled down at her as she returned to her stool. “Yes, Miss, the—I mean, yes, Aura, it is. Dopterines are much lighter than we look.”

“I noticed earlier!” Aura laughed, tilting her head to the side playfully.

“Right!” Ásdís nodded and giggled, bouncing her feet on her tiptoes as she took up the spoon and resumed eating. “And—mm!—” Gods, it was even sweeter now, even creamier, even richer, as if the first course had been to fill her up and this was her dessert—“that’s why we need so much sugar, see, we need the energy to keep our wings beating fast enough!“

“That makes sense! I’d heard dopterines had a sweet tooth.”

“Oh, yes, but it’s a need, not a want!” Ásdís wagged her finger importantly. “There’s a big difference!”

“There certainly is.”

“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!” Ásdís wriggled in her seat so she could flutter her own wings, filling the room with glimmering blue-and-pink-and-silver light from their shimmering reflective forms. “Our wings are much stronger than they look!”

“Really!” Aura reached over the table. Ásdís’s breath caught at the sight of her cleavage, so loosely-contained within the sundress—she was not wearing a bra, but then again, that was one of the ‘perks’ of being fey, you didn’t really need them. “May I?“

“Um. Um.” Ásdís stared at Aura’s chest, then at the hand, then at Aura’s eyes, big and pretty and soothing and such a pretty hue of hazel. “S-Sure!” She giggled nervously and displayed her right wing for easier access. “Why not? Just be...” Her lips parted as the cowgirl’s fingertips grazed her. “... d-deli… cate…”

Aura’s touch was even more gentle and delicate than she had expected. It was barely a feather, wafting across the infinitesimal little scales that covered her wing and made it shine. Aura’s fingertips ran over the wing with utter care, and she heard Aura whisper, “It’s like silk...“

“Mm.” Ásdís nodded weakly, quivering at the touch, unable to keep a tremble from her voice. “Y-Yes…”

Aura’s hand paused, the fingertips still touching the wing. “Is everything alright, sweetie?” the cowgirl asked, her voice as soft as her touch as the fingers brushed down the wing’s surface.

“S… S-Sensitive,” Ásdís squeaked, blushing.

There was a pause. She trembled, biting her lip to hold back more embarrassing sounds.

Aura pulled back, smiling and waggling her fingertips. “Well, I suppose I don’t need to understand how the mothgirl flies, if only I know that she’ll stay out of the winds.”

“Mm!” Ásdís nodded again, keeping her mouth shut as she felt her heart stop racing. “S-So anyways, um…” She felt flustered again, and didn’t know what to say. “So, um…”

Luckily, Aura was there again to rescue her. “Was it hard, learning to be a Toxin Ranger?”

“Oh, ye—” Ásdís hesitated, then shook her head, affecting a proud smirk. “pfft! Of course not! I mean, it’s tough, but I didn’t have much trouble.” She bit her lip. She didn’t want to sound cocky. “I-I mean, not too much... " She took a spoonful of porridge.

“I’ve heard the Toxin Rangers are more, ah… conservative.”

“Mm. Oh, yes, some places, they can be!” Ásdís shrugged, relaxing again. It was nice letting Aura control the conversation, honestly. Aura always seemed to know when to change the subject. “The Steppe, and basically everywhere south of the Mountain Range, totally. At least, that’s what I hear. But the Mountain Folk don’t really put up with that.” She grinned, remembering something one of her mentors had once said. “It’s hard to demand everyone’s got to be straight,” she remembered the word a guard had once used, “when half the population is cute goblin girls, you know? So the Mountains’ Toxin Rangers are a lot more, like, easy-going.“

She spooned another helping of porridge into her mouth, and couldn’t help but moan a little, very quietly, at how delectably the flavors tingled in her mouth. ”Plus, like, all that stuff about staying away from fey and arranged marriages and women’s roles and straight romance is really an old Royal thing. We never liked the Royal Family, so…” She waved her hand dismissively, as she’d seen Widow Tam do when talking about this. “I think even the Toxin Ranger are putting it aside, mostly. Outside Nyaska, and the Kingdom of the Chosen, talk like that just gets you looked at funny.“

“I take it you weren’t trained to ‘stay away from fey’?” Aura teased.

“Nuh-uh!” Ásdís smirked. “My mentors taught me—um, and my experiences have taught me—that it always depends on the fey. Some fey, ‘specially High Fey, can be, like, greedier and stuff, or won’t take no for an answer, or don’t even understand why they would… but a lot of fey are really nice, and you can learn a lot from them, and a lot of them are just, like, normal people!” She gestured to Aura. “Like, cowgirls like you are beastfey, right?“

“Cowgirls are, yes.” Aura smiled slightly.

“Right! And beastfey are usually totally… well, they’re a lot like mortals, right? They can have babies, they can…” Ásdís’s cheeks heated up as she realized what she’d just said. “... th-they, um, they need to eat, and sleep, and stuff like that?”

“That’s right!” Aura giggled. “All of those things are true for beastfey. You’re quite the expert on us!”

Ásdís giggled, too—she couldn’t help it, Aura’s melodic laughter was infectious. “Of course I am, I’m a Toxin Ranger! I know all about fey and, um, and stuff. And, um, needing to eat, and stuff like that, it grounds you more in the world, so it’s easier for beastfey to understand mortals, too.”

“Well, I don’t know if I could match your appetite!” Aura winked.

“Right.” Ásdís glanced down at her bowl, already half-emptied, and gave a sheepish chuckle. She paused to drink from her glass of milk, and remembered to wipe her lips with the napkin this time. Aura seemed to smile wider at that, and Ásdís felt a warm glow of pride. “Well, like I said, dopterines need to eat a lot. It’s why I ran out of provisions!”

“I’d heard dopterines can have terrible appetites, but...” Aura tilted her head slightly with a curious expression. “I suppose those are probably just… lascivious tales.”

“No, they’re true!” Ásdís grimaced, waving her spoon in a contemptuous circle. “And I bet a lot of your visitors like to gossip about it, but it’s not that, um, lass-iv-ious.” She pouted, thinking a moment. “The Taste is like… I mean, like, it’s something dopterines develop in our twenties. It’s really gross, to be honest. Dopterines have a, like… an aphrodisiacal response to the fluids of other species.“

“Oh, like…”

“Not, like, the really gross stuff.” Ásdís made a face. “And nothing bloody. But… well, like, tears and sweat set it off a little bit. And, um…” She felt her cheeks getting hotter. “Um, saliva, and, um…” She trailed off, swallowing.

Ásdís had never experienced the Taste herself. She’d never met an elf, and she steered clear of the human guards who came by, like most dopterines knew to do. She’d heard goblin maids didn’t activate it, and, well…

… to be honest, she’d never thought to try to find out what other species might.

Aura gave a soothing smile. “Don’t neglect your porridge, dear,” she said gently. “It’s going to get cold!”

“R-Right!” Ásdís nodded, eager for the escape, and began eating again.

TO BE CONTINUED...