Editing Bound Fate (Warhammer High) (section)

===Monastery===
----


Arthur walked Miranda slowly up to her front door, wanting to savor this moment: her smell, the dress, her hair, everything. "So, you worried about Monday? I can never tell when Mr. Bile's going to throw out a pop quiz." 

"Don't worry about it, Castor. I don't think he's got anything planned." Miranda leaned just slightly into Arthur, enjoying his warmth in the ever colder air.

"Well, I guess, ya know, here we are." He stopped short, let her slowly pull away and turn towards him.

"Castor..." She leaned in, then stopped and turned around, stepping up to the stoop. "Can you wait here, just for a minute?"

"Sure, babe, no problem." Arthur smiled happily, anticipating a good night kiss and plans for next weekend.   

''You nailed it.''

He didn't think much of it when she gently undid that creepy headband and turned to face him again, holding it against her forehead.



Doug stood back from his own apartment door, in hab block 127. "Please, Furia, come in." He looked slightly uncomfortable. "But, first."

He laid his hand out, palm up in front of her face, looking directly at the lho-stick. Furia drew down the remaining tabac in a single enormous drag, then blew it out slowly and spat the stub into his fingers. Doug beckoned her in with a slight bow, coughing sporadically.

"This your place?" The room was tiny, a single combination kitchen-living-bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, small even for a Hive apartment. "It's... uh, nice. I guess?"

Doug closed the door smoothly behind them. "Yes, it is rather cozy."

The kitchen had a sink, a small refrigerator and a single cabinet. There was no stove, but a triwave oven, with a clear, globe-shaped cooking chamber, sat on the cramped counter a meter away from a small monitor and runeslate, both attached to a computer humming quietly on the floor. At the other end of the kitchenette sat a very large pot, smelling strongly of spiced meat and something familiar, savory, something Furia hadn't smelled in a long time. Doug stepped over to the pot and lifted the lid with a small towel, revealing a thick, red mixture inside, then set it back down. She glanced underneath the tremendous pot to see it supported by a pitifully small yellow box, an overhanging white plate just visible between the two.

"Please, have a seat." Doug gestured broadly behind himself as he began to pull things from drawers and cabinets with swift, efficient movements.

Furia turned and was nearly overcome by bewilderment. There was no table or chairs. There was a bed with remarkably sharp corners tucked into the corner and a single cardboard box the exact same height as the short bed sitting square in the middle of the apartment. Doug walked by and laid a thin sheet over the box, and Furia sprawled ungainly onto the floor next to it, tossing her jacket aside. A small wooden container tucked behind the monitor slid out, and a piece of long, crusty bread was pulled from within.

Doug opened the high cabinet and pulled out a lengthy, square-bladed knife with inclined grooves and serrations. He sawed easily through the bread lengthwise, then cut it in half horizontally. Two of the chunks went into the triwave oven and it began to hum along as well, the bread slowly crisping. Doug reached back into the cabinet and produced a tall, thin ladle. The pot opened again, and the smell came with it, stronger.

Furia inhaled deeply. "What is that?"

Doug stirred the pot, then pulled a folded white towel out of a small drawer, tapped the ladle clean and set it down on the partially unfolded cloth. "Loseyn noodles, made from wheat, in a tomato sauce with minced auroch, cheese, pressed garlic, diced onion, chile powder, pepper and, of course, salt." He left the lid ajar on the pot and the rich mixture of scents filled the small apartment quickly, letting it live up to his earlier claim of coziness. Furia pulled out a lho-stick, slipped it between her lips.

"Where the hell'd you get auroch around here?" She made to light it, but looked up to see Doug, eyebrows raised, staring at her very candidly.

After about five seconds Furia began to blush, then remembered. ''Oh yeah, no smoking.''

"Fucker." The unlit lho stick was tucked behind her ear.

"I purchased the meat from a coreworlder named Davin in hab block 113, a stout fellow and capable butcher."

Doug turned back around and opened up the triwave oven with one hand, pulling down a wide plate from the cabinet with the other. The bread slid gingerly onto the plate, with a few waves of his scorched fingers. The refrigerator opened to reveal milk, various juices, vegetables and a few clear plas boxes containing various kinds of leftovers. A brown tub slipped through the air to the counter with a flourish, then the drawer in the bottom of the fridge slid open, disgorging a green plas bag of white cheese. Fingers dipped into the cabinet once more, pulling out a dull knife, and the tub reluctantly surrendered a few slats of butter to the hot bread. The ladle dipped into the pot, stirred again, then a spice container appeared from the other cabinet door, separated from its brethren to sprinkle something off-white over the buttered bread. He adjusted something on the hot plate, then things began to disappear into the cabinets and get cleaned in the sink while the butter melted. The ladle dipped and scooped a few times, and finally a generous helping of the thick concoction dressed the crunchy bread, one piece at a time.

Doug brought the plate over and set it down on the box, then allowed a fair handful of cheese to fall on each piece. He resealed the bag, then turned and removed the ladle once again. Loud crunching and no small amount of slurping sounded behind Doug, and he smiled.

"Mind that you-"

"Fuck! That's hot." Doug's smile only broadened as the eating noises returned, unabated.

Furia wolfed down the first portion, ''Hell of a lot better than 'rack slop'', then started on the other.

Doug turned to sit down, then stopped as he saw the second serving crowd into her sauce-covered chops. 

"Ohm, m'bad, whs ths s'posed t'be yers?" Furia flushed with embarrassment and began to pull the food out, but Doug simply smiled wider.

"Please, I consider it a compliment."

The other two chunks of bread entered the clear triwave oven while Furia finished eating. Doug seized the plate and rinsed it off, drying it with a corner of the flour sack towel, then made another course. They ate in comfortable silence and, as soon as she was done with the third piece, Furia excused herself into the small bathroom to clean up. Her hand started to shake, the lack of adrenaline, nicat or anything else bringing the jitters again now that hunger was gone.

''What the fuck am I doing here? I don't even know this guy.'' Cold water splashed onto Furia's face as she thought back over the past week. ''First goddamn Coby, then dad's gone until Sunday, and then you punch Freya in the face and piss off Hana. No wonder you don't have anyone to talk to.''

Another wave of frigid water, and the tap suddenly cut off. ''Oh, great work Furia, you used up all the water. Just another thing you fucked up this week.'' She felt the adrenaline start to pick up, the anger, the need for a lho-stick, to scratch that itch on her arm and something to hit. What came next was simply the last straw.

"Furia? Did you-" Doug's voice rang clearly through the door, lilting up at the end with inquiry.

"Fuck it."

Furia pushed open the door and made to leave the apartment, only to plow directly into Doug, holding up a large jug of water. She tried to push past him, but he put a hand up to stop her, grabbing a bare forearm. An electric current seemed to pass between them, freezing them both in place with some unseen force. Furia went rigid, blood rushing to her cheeks, arteries in her neck throbbing as she turned to look at Doug. His hand remained firmly clasped on her arm and his breathing accelerated just slightly. She shoulder-checked him violently, knocking the full jug of cold water to the floor.



Miranda pulled off her headband, revealing a strange lump in her forehead. Arthur was simply confused at first, ''Is she a body modder? What is that?'' The third eye opened then, an unearthly purple, and rolled wetly in its socket, as if stretching after an eons-long rest. It settled on Arthur for a moment, unblinking.

Castor, as his friends and erstwhile girlfriend called him, screamed with bloody horror. He fell backwards into the street, the inhuman sight more terrifying than any he'd ever seen before, made all the worse by the utter normalcy it had shattered. Tears welled up in all three of Miranda's eyes, then increased as the reaction only caused Arthur to scream louder, as if his very soul was being torn asunder. He stood, fell, tried to stand again and finally crawled into a run towards his car. His hands fumbled as he endeavored to unlock the door and start the repulsors, nearly hitting another vehicle in his haste to escape.

Castor shuddered behind the wheel of his aircar as he drove away.

"Holy ''fuck'', that was creepy."

Arthur looked back in the rearview mirror, feeling a hint of regret. But the image of the third eye appeared in his mind again and he accelerated faster, shivering.





Furia pushed Doug onto the low, uncomfortable bed, lips locked together. There was a token resistance and it was no match for her desire and physical strength. Doug began to return the effort in kind, all tongue and hands.
 
''He's clumsy.''

The notion made Furia laugh after all they'd done tonight. Outer clothes shed themselves and their bodies fastened together. It stayed that way for a long time, taste, touch and smell predominating over closed eyes and throat-borne moans.

Doug's hands begin the peel and prod, and Furia cut him off, throwing the bra to the side impatiently and slamming back into him, knocking him against the wall. She saw his eyes roam, his hands circle, felt him respond fully underneath her. He stopped his mouth and focused only on his hands, moving in simple but ever-changing patterns. They never lingered for long anywhere, constantly teasing. They returned to kissing, hands clasped gently around head and waist.

Furia's hands worked down, masking her growing nerves with impetuousness, and Doug started at the sudden touch. His practiced mask of mildness dropped to reveal surprise.

"Hah, look at you, acting like a badass and you're still a virgin."

Doug's hand darted forward, slipping easily down the front of her hiphuggers, and probed gently. Furia gasped suddenly at the unexpected pleasure, her abdominals clenching.

"It seems you have little room to talk, Lady Furia." She flushed abruptly, and let a rush of anger to the fore.

"Shut up." Furia bit his shoulder, hard, leaving a pair of bloody crescents, "And don't call me that, I'm not some spoiled noble. Fucker."

They got back into it, the last garments slipping off. Despite everything Doug was far gentler than she'd been, his hands and mouth going back to familiar patterns, moving synchronously, maintaining a shared rhythm and tempo while their bodies moved more slowly. The first real moan escaped, guttural, primal. No more words were exchanged, no more pretense or artifice, just action, guided by will and want. Furia picked up the pace and Doug countered by increasing the complexity of his movements, now asynchronous. Tongue and mouth and fingers all worked in different rhythms, teasing no longer, fast and forceful. She felt something building inside her, a light tickle mixed with a swell of anticipation. 

Doug shuddered, spasmed, and Furia let out a sigh of disappointment and alarm, realizing she didn't have a condom or any kind of birth control. She looked down to see his eyes closed, his face a mask of utter concentration. His thighs and pyramidalis were clenching, tugging the other muscles into tight bunches. They rode the moment out, and suddenly he was moving again, undiminished.

Furia broke the fresh liplock, genuinely surprised, "How the fuck-" Doug cut her off with another kiss, his response rasping around their tongues.

"I studied in a monastery. Meditation and muscle control."

Furia smiled intently and threw herself back into deed, feeling that something build again.



The door opened behind Miranda as she sank to her knees, and Magnus the Red stepped out. Conqueror of a thousand worlds, one of the wisest and most powerful minds in the galaxy, Magnus frowned. He felt helpless, a feeling he didn't like. During his tumultuous childhood on Prospero, and the Great Crusade that followed, Magnus fought many terrible foes. 

But he never felt helpless. It was a feeling that had come to him more and more as Miranda, his pride and joy, his everything, grew and flourished. Fatherhood seemed to him far more trying and complex than war, and the many times he had felt helpless, at a loss of knowledge, had humbled him in a way no battle could.

''That may have been Father's intention all along.''

Still he knew that even at times like this, watching his daughter weep, it was not an undertaking he would willingly relinquish. So Magnus knelt down and took her, impossibly small and fragile, in his arms. He knew many of his brothers would feel anger at what had happened. That, in their pride, they would ignore their daughters to enact punishment. But Magnus was wiser than this. And so he hugged his daughter, the gentleness seeming impossible for his massive frame.

Miranda cried, whimpered and blubbered, making him all the more aware she was still just a girl. A girl whose love and confidence had been abandoned, whose trust had been betrayed. 



Some time later Furia smoked slowly, secretly pleased Doug wasn't complaining about the tabac smoke now filtering out through the cracked window. She rolled over to stub it out, a leg resting briefly on the wet spot. The memory sprung to mind, the visceral satisfaction of seeing him too worn out to resist the sensation again. Furia exhaled heavily, the last of the lho drifting serenely from her nostrils. Doug moved in the center of the room, martial forms that didn't seem very useful to Furia.

:''"They're meditative, Furia, they allow-"''
:''"Don't care. You got any more of that bread?"''

Doug shook his head with a smile at the thought, then continued with the motions, stretching aching muscles. He hadn't free-climbed in quite a while, and his hands felt particularly strained. He also couldn't deny he felt good right now; not just satisfied, but happy. He remembered seeing Furia scratch her arm, and briefly shuddered at what would've come next if he hadn't bumped into her.

“Why'd you do that?” Smoke drifted out in Doug's direction, propelled by the question.

“What?”

Furia rolled her eyes, anger returning. “Don't give me that shit, Doug. Why the hell're you out fucking up drug dealers, stealing cars and... doing whatever you did to that patrolman?”

“I framed him, Furia. Winhus was dealing to that school, and Agissa was facilitating that. It's not fair that he's associated with the other dealers, but I'm sure he'll roll over on them to plea down his case and get the punishment he deserved in the first place.”

Furia thought back to the school, where she'd first seen him, and the dealer.

“Yeah, but why you? Are you working for the Treasury or something?” The lho stick flared up.

“I'm... Well, I'm affiliated with the Treasury. I don't work for them, though we have similar goals. I assure you, I am entirely within my legal rights to do what I did tonight. Provided I don't get caught doing it.”

Furia snorted, but the ember floating over the bed dimmed slightly in the darkness.

“And you're just going to keep avoiding the question.”

“I'm sorry Furia.” Doug looked up, his face completely honest, not a hint of deceit present. “But I can't talk about who I work for. Just know that tonight a corrupt Patrolman and a dozen dealers who were feeding slide to children are in Arbites custody, thanks to what we did. It may not be completely legal, but it is right.”

She exhaled again, slowly, and felt the anger still trembling through her. “And what about the car?”

“I liked it.”

Furia snorted again, then started to laugh.

“Besides, those men were stealing cars from people who barely have enough money to live day-to-day.”

“Still think that 'form' shit's pointless.”

“Perhaps, but after everything we've done tonight I could use a proper cooldown.”

That Furia could understand, so she relaxed, watched him step and twist. Subtly defined muscles slid and contracted underneath his skin, the slight sheen of sweat glistening in the low light. Doug turned, revealing a large hodgepodge of discoloration and mild swelling around his right kidney, in addition to the welts and bruises on his arms and legs from the LFT. Furia felt a sudden pang of guilt, followed by a familiar rush of anger. Surprisingly she fought it back with ease, not even reaching for the pack of lho sticks on the floor.

"Sorry about the, uh, ass-kicking I gave you monday. And Tuesday. And breaking your.. uh, square thing yesterday." Furia averted her eyes, the unimpressive sights of the hive suddenly devouring her attention whole.

"Why, Lady Furia, is that an apology?" The anger rose afresh, until she saw the teasing grin playing over Doug's face. A matching smile broke over hers.

"Forgive me," He whispered with mock drama, "I couldn't help myself."

"Never." Furia whispered back. "Seriously, though." She looked down and away as she sat against the wall, drawing her knees up to her head. Doug was there, quietly, quickly, sidling up next to her with a gentle kiss on the nape of her neck.

"I'm fine, Furia. I haven't had a good conditioning session for some time. Although I must admit, yours was somewhat more intense than my standard routine."

Furia let Doug kiss her again, laying her head against his shoulder while his arms wrapped around hers.

"So, why didn't you throw me under the bus?"

"I saw you, when you were walking down the hall. There was... something in your eyes." Doug looked out the window now, his own eyes thoughtful, "You looked like you'd lost everything, and that was the only way I could think to... to let you know someone was there. That you weren't alone." They sat there in the cool air for a time, something strange causing it to thicken, to tense around them. Furia found it unbearable and turned the conversation another direction.

"Why do you talk like that anyway? Most of the nobles don't even sound that... proper." Furia flourished with her hand, the abstract but universally recognized gesture of 'fanciness'.

Doug let out a small laugh. "My parents worked for the post. They raised my brother and I with the intention that we would replace them, in running the local office. As most of the messages and packages were for the few nobles in our area, we were expected to speak appropriately. Formally."

"You have a brother?"

"A twin, yes. However, he doesn't speak with the same articulation I do. He's a capable talker, though. A grifter, born and raised."

Furia pulled his head down onto her shoulder now, her legs sliding back down as they embraced, trading more slow, light kisses.

"You have a twin? Like, an identical twin?"

"Nearly. We're fraternal. We share a strong resemblance, but you wouldn't mistake him for me from any closer than ten meters." She heard his heart quicken slightly, "And you? Do you have any siblings?"

Furia sighed, but didn't find the usual well of anger family brought up waiting for her. "No... well, sort of. It's technically just me and my dad, and my cousins. But some of them are more like sisters. Hana and Freya, Angela, even Miranda sometimes, when she feels like it. Definitely not Victoria, though, fuck that bitch."
"I doubt she requires any assistance in that regard."

Furia laughed bitterly at the remark, and Doug pulled aside a short tress of red hair, audibly inhaling the scent before kissing her gently on the cheek. They sat in silence for a while longer, eventually succumbing to gravity and weariness. The cover was thin, the box mattress rigid and the pillow inadequate. Furia felt perfectly at home in the austere bed, listening to the gradual slowing of Doug's bodily functions while her hand ran idly through his chest hair. She tugged him over onto his back and partially splayed onto his upper body, kissing his jaw. He was surprisingly warm.

"Listen, uh, I don't think is really going to go anywhere." Doug reacted only slightly, eyes opening fully as began to formulate a reply.

"Hmm." He seemed to consider it for awhile, and Furia felt a mounting trepidation. She couldn't figure out how he'd react from his pulse and breathing; they remained perfectly even.

"I don't suppose it will, will it?" Furia waited, now feeling awkward, and considered leaving. She began to move, but Doug pulled her back down.

"No, please. I understand. We..." He stopped again, breathing slowly and deeply, "Neither of us is ready to open up." Doug looked into her eyes, frank and honest, "I'm sure you have your reasons, and I have mine. Regardless of why, neither of us is prepared to bridge the gap." He waited a beat, "In the emotional sense, I mean."

Furia couldn't help but smile at the euphemism, and suddenly felt more relaxed. Something occurred to her and she looked up, chin sliding over his pec and shoulder, "Wait. D'you mean can't, or won't?"

"That is an important distinction." Doug thought a little longer, but the answer seemed well within reach, "I... don't think I'm capable of it right now. You've certainly proven yourself a capable partner, er...' He trailed off at the unintended double entendre, but she jumped in before he could continue.

"I know what you mean, and I know what you ''mean''." Furia smiled again and bit his shoulder, not quite lightly, then kissed it. Doug winced slightly, the skin there still sensitive from her earlier champ, but didn't shy away from the touch. "But let's not make a big stink about this at school." He nodded wearily and, after some time, drifted off to sleep.





Furia simply waited, listening to his body bunker down for the night. It was relaxing, and it wasn't much longer until the tug of sleep pulled her away. Two hours later she half-awoke, feeling the minute changes in muscle contraction and body position, hearing the change in pulse. They coupled again, slowly and not for long, and sleep resumed. Five hours after that Doug awoke to an empty room and began warming up. ''What have you gotten yourself into?'' Another step, another hissing breath. Panic began to creep through Doug, and his eyes widened. ''That was not wise.'' He turned his upper body, then slowly pivoted on his foot to complete the movement, exhaling slowly. ''What do you do now, Doug, that you've become involved with a Daughter?'' The composure slowly returned to his face as he considered the matter rationally, eyes becoming mild and blank once more.



Furia barged through the front door of her home, still wearing Doug's leather jacket. Her anxiety was eased by the sight of no new note from her father, still gone until the night to terrorize more neophytes. Furia stopped momentarily, looking back at the front door, then shook her head and continued upstairs.