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Daily life upon the Antenora had become a bland daze, passing by without much of note occurring. It was a state of affairs that left Hunter III reticent— and the leisurely course Norn had set meant that aside from daily meals, additional meat wasn’t easily acquired. Hunter III felt her body become more sluggish as this boring pace was followed through, her body’s hungers growing more as she became further incapable of expressing them. No longer did her fingers split to unveil claws at a thought, no longer did she feel the capability to meld and change and shape herself, her usual lazy activities and lounging becoming even more lifeless.
As she returned to this state she was mostly left alone. Norn wasn’t the sort to bother her unless she actively caused trouble, which would take more energy than she had at the moment. And without any need for outbursts of immense violence, Norn had no need for the Omenseer beyond keeping Leviathans off of their journey through the photic zone. Samoylovych’s annoyances continued whenever they crossed paths, but even her energy and libido was hitting a wall against Hunter III’s increased reticence. Her semi-regular drinking of Samoylovych’s blood sated her but did not grant her the same life-giving energy as the fruit of the Garden of Marrow, leading to a steady passivity— even her complaints about hunger became muted and halfhearted.
Hunter III’s eyes sluggishly blinked open, taking a few minutes to recall her current sleeping location. She’d pushed some hefty cables aside to burrow her way deeper into the innards of the Antenora- she really wasn’t feeling up to dealing with Yurii’s annoying perversions, Livia’s annoying experiments, Norn’s annoying teasing, or Adelheid’s odd warmth towards her (also annoying). A soft sigh left her lips as she used a hanging cable to lift herself to her feet- this interstitial space was big enough to allow her to stand, and even manage a groaning stretch as the small woman found herself conscious once more.
“Hmm.. s’probably meal time by now…” Her voice toneless and unenergetic, despite the promise of meat.
The Omenseers first steps to pull herself out of the guts of the ship halted as a spine-chilling feeling sent cold shudders running through her body- a horrific feeling of being watched, judged, mentally picked apart sending her fight or flight reflex into overdrive, eyes flashing the red of omensight to better comprehend this horrific intrusion.
Her attempt to resist, to gain any time to reach out her mind to warn Norn about this intrusion on her territory was cut off sharply, the colors around her overwhelming her, tearing her Aetheric form from her physical body with a sharp and incisive skill only found in a cruel Apostle- which didn’t narrow it down much. But this touch felt familiar. Familiar enough to compound the heart-pounding fear now running through the pathetic Hunter’s form.
A sharp, ringing voice suddenly overwhelmed her senses, her submissive colors utterly overwhelmed by the harsh and brutal wave of red directed upon Hunter III by Arbitrator I’s gaze.
“Ahhhh, it’s good to see you continue to disappoint and waste away even with your Autarch’s eye off of you. I’m happy, truly, to know you’re just this wretched and disgusting even when left to be an unimportant beast scampering about for scraps.”
Body suspended once more, facsimiles of super-heated bone driven through her phantasmal wrists and ankles drawing more pain from her pathetically writhing form as she struggled, gasping out a response to her-
“A-Autarch… Wh.. what’d I do? P..please jus’ leave Norn alone…”
Her pathetic begging provoked a loud, sharp laugher that made Hunter III’s writhing slacken for a moment, confusion setting in as she shakily turned her gaze to her Autarch’s red gaze. Her expression was… joyful? The cruelty, the displeasure at the Hunter in her presence was clearly visible, but… her aura felt bright and energized in a way that was clear even while it battered and bruised the tortured Hunter hanging within the Aetheric space.
“Haaaah. That boring, same old begging, Hunter III? It truly makes me wish to just torment you more, until you let something original leave those lips.” This was spoken in a light-hearted tone, one that allowed Hunter III to nurse a small hope of being allowed to leave this place with some manner of peace.
The Autarch was silent for a few moments more before she gave a girlish hop closer to the hanging body of her vassal, looking up at her with bright, unhinged eyes.
“I’ll let you in on the grand undertakings of your lord, Hunter III. I’ve just devoured pieces of the kin of an old foe of mine, and let off some steam on some foolish, pathetic hominin who continues to wander aimlessly through the Aether that I command. And this… has left me in a good mood.”
A shaky, visible wave of relief ran through Hunter III’s body and aura.
And then a sudden, horrific wave of pain.
Her back arching against her constraints, screaming out as, through boiling tears, her chin dropped enough to see Arbitrator II’s arm impaled through her thin form, the gray hood she wore torn with ease. She could feel the grip of that cruel, unstoppable violence around her spine, cracking and tearing, and finally forcing it out of her back. The grip eased, Hunter III involuntarily gasping, spitting, writhing as she could feel the sensation of disconnected vertebrae drop from her Autarch’s palm, dissolving into Aether once parted from her body.
“You are the lowest of the low, Hunter III. You have no important tasks I’ve reluctantly assigned, not even a half-hearted attempt to keep your wretched form busy. Instead! You lounge. You gorge. You fuck.” Each and every word dripping with utter contempt, the Autarch’s sneering expression so close to the gasping, whimpering face of Hunter III.
Half-hearted attempts at a response were all melted into an agonized plea, burning pain rolling from the ruptured, mangled organs and bones within her. “Aaaautarch, aauaagh, I…” Words silenced by the sharp grip on her pale hair, neck cracking as she was forced forward, tasting Arbitrator II’s lips, vision cloudy as the waves of sharp, violent colors forced onto her from the Autarch’s aura continually assaulted her.
Arbitrator II’s tongue pressed into her mouth, tasting the passive tongue of Hunter III’s, biting down, drawing more shaking motions and weak, pathetic resistance from the Omenseer in her clutches. It took mere moments for the Autarch to grow bored of this, drawing her fangs through the Omenseer’s tongue before biting down on her lower lip harshly with her sharp teeth.
Hunter III’s pained daze, the feeling of her own blood and guts spilling out over her stomach and down her thighs, was finally overpowered by the sharper pain of Arbitrator II’s teeth digging in deeper to her lip. Blinking through tears in her eyes, staring into the vicious, cruel hunger of the Autarch having her way with her body.
The pain didn’t stop, Hunter III struggling to stare into the unblinking eyes of Arbitrator II. Those eyes that held nothing but the desire to dig in further. To tear and draw blood. To see every little wince and tear streaming down her face. And finally biting down completely, digging into the flesh, drawing louder unsteady sounds of pain from Hunter III as she felt her lip tear away from her face, bitten off, warm blood staining her chin, mouth filled with the taste of her own blood.
Arbitrator II finally let her hair go, pulling away for a moment, visibly grimacing as she swallowed the chunk of Hunter III’s flesh.
“You truly taste of the excesses of hominins. Disgusting.”
Three shards of bone were torn roughly from her left wrist and ankles, splattering her blood and splaying veins across her limp arm and legs, slumping to the false floor of this space the Autarch had built to torture her within. Her body rested limply and unevenly on her knees with shoulders askew, one arm still raised and impaled on a chunk of bone. Her soft whimpering and unsteady gasps for breath didn’t subside, her body weakly struggling to reconstruct itself, remolding itself to keep her conscious, unable to gather enough energy to fix the hole in her gut.
“Autarch…please…”
“That begging again. Truly, Hunter III, what am I to do with you? I’ve clasped that pathetic little aura of yours in my hand, seen what little you’ve accomplished since I last visited you. You are a disappointment even within a caste of disappointments. And it stoked a desire to reaffirm your place in my order.”
Kneeling down to grip that blood-stained chin, forcing those unfocused eyes to fill only with the sight of her Autarch’s own intense, unblinking gaze as she spoke,
“Your body is mine. Your being is mine. Every action you take should exalt your kind and dismantle the hominins. Their scent and auras intertwine with yours in a way that brings a burning need to my chest. To cleanse you. To reassert and remind you of the way only us chosen can satisfy. Unworthy as you are.”
Each sentence was ended by a pulse of aura, the waves of a King’s Gaze overwhelming Hunter III’s unprepared and unresisting soul, marring her with colors of submission and utter desire. The pain seemed to lessen, fading to the back of her mind, her body finding itself leaning into the touch of her Autarch, bloodied and torn tongue lolling from her mouth.
“P-please…”
Her begging took on a different tone, that throbbing, burning heat she recognized from her dalliances with Samoylovych spreading through her ruptured, weak and shaking form. It was enough to provoke a twitch in her Autarch’s expression, a shift to press close to Hunter III’s abused body.
“Finally you begin to prostrate yourself in an acceptable manner.” Arbitrator II’s robe was easily removed from her form, a mere thought from the Titan of Aether enough to reduce it to a wave of colors, washed away in a moment. Tiring of looking a lesser Omenseer in the eyes, standing, returning to that harsh, digging grip on her hair to force Hunter III to face upwards. To view the nude, petite form of Arbitrator II, the Omenseer Autarch shifting to sit, with her thick, lazily flicking tail propping her up.
Easily lifting the frail weight of the torn up Hunter, supporting her in her lap with ease. Soft and cruel words whispered as her Autarch’s nails dug deep into her flesh, tearing through skin and muscle with ease as she spoke.
“Your every thought is full of desire. It’s pathetic. Enforcer I would find it charming, I suppose. But it truly makes me furious these are the traits of hominins you have managed to grasp. You lack faith, belief, and the desire to serve that exists in humans. So I shall have to imprint it upon your form.”
Hunter III was limp as a doll, the unsteady efforts of her body to fix itself thrown askew by the amount of Arbitrator II’s aura swirling through her own, spine remaining shattered, slumping into the Autarch even as the Omenseer lord’s hips began to move steadily. Grinding into her, Hunter III capable of feeling the throbbing waves of heat against her thighs, the easy way the Autarch manipulated Aether and body alike, her own thoughts clouding over from the intensity of the assault on her senses.
The feeling of the Autarch’s cock pressing into her sent a surge through her torn and ruined nerves, her still-functioning hand clenching uselessly where it was pinned. She stared forward, finding every thought of concern for Norn and the others of the Antenora forced from her head, feeling the digging fingers of the Autarch’s influence over her mind and soul, that overpowering aura drowning out every thought other than the body in front of her, the body inside of her. All she could see through clouded eyes was the chest of Arbitrator II heaving, that pale figure only stained with a few trails of Hunter III’s own splattered blood.
“Blessed by your, haah, lord’s touch and attention- consider yourself truly sanctified, mongrel. Savor this pleasure and let it fill that empty, useless little skull of yours.”
Hunter III was beyond response, her hips responding only to the increased strength and intensity of Arbitrator II beneath her. Barely capable of feeling the throbbing of the Autarch inside of her with so many of her internal organs splayed out- the warmth of her spilling blood, the sensation of Arbitrator II’s nails digging deep into her sides, and her own pathetic panting all reducing her to little more than a beast in heat.
She saw a sudden pulse of white run through Arbitrator II’s aura, wide, red eyes taking in the momentary sight of the Autarch losing her composure, groaning out softly, Hunter III’s mangled body shuddering weakly from the sensation of warmth within her. She had a moment of peace, of her pains and thoughts stalling, before that cruel glint returned to the Autarch’s expression.
A raised hand, Arbitrator II leaning in, as if for a kiss once more, gently cupping Hunter III’s cheek as she spoke.
“Remember this, Hunter III. And remember to whom you are subservient.”
And then that gentle, warm touch became burning, digging through her cheek, cracking bone, as her brainself was utterly and completely rent and allowed to dispurse, the spur of bone dissolving away as Arbitrator II was left alone in the void of shifting colors.
Coming to her senses in a sharp snap, eyes flicking about in fear as she recalled where she was. Hands instinctively pressing to her stomach, whole and uninjured, as Hunter III wiped drying tears from her cheeks and inspected the room she’d hid herself away in. A small spark of pain ran through her fingers as she ran them over her intact hood, lifting them to see the nails broken and cracked, fingertips stained with blood. Casting her eyes to the floor, she saw the signs- while her brainself had been in the clutches of the Autarch, her body had been writhing senselessly, grasping and digging her hands into metal- enough to leave streaks of blood and nail fragments across the room.
“Hunter III!”
An authoritative shout from a familiar voice brought Hunter III out of her unsteady inspection, head flicking up towards the light at the end of the access tunnel. Wobbling steps as she made her way under various bundled wires and tubing, pulled out into the light by Norn and Adelheid, both looking over her with worry. Norn was saying something about a disturbance in the Aether, but Hunter III found herself tuning her out- and instead weakly leaning into her, eyes half-lidded as she rested her body against Norn’s warmth.
Uncharacteristically, Norn von Fueller allowed this display of affection, a gentle hand laid on Hunter III’s head, petting her soothingly. Hunter III’s breathing steadied, mumbling even as she felt herself drifting off in the calm of her lords touch.
“…S’fine…s’only a nightmare…”
