The great families did not spring up overnight. Like the evolution of most social structures, it was gradual. It started in the time of the Second Jeffersonian Era of the United States. There had been a long-standing strain between those who supported homosexuals’ right to equality under marriage versus those who stood by “traditional” family units.
This long-standing strain, which was one of several battlefronts of the so-called “War of Moral Values,” came to a head in the Second Jeffersonian Era. The legal status of marriage was dispensed with completely in favor of civil unions. It was argued that marriage was a religious institution and therefore violated the principle of separation of church and state. Therefore, marriage would no longer be recognized by the government at all.
After this, marriage remained a private religious ritual, but now it conferred no legal status. All property rights-including rights to offspring-were determined by civil unions. All civil unions were legally the same, regardless of the genders of those in the union. However, it was initially limited to two consenting adults. This limitation seemed arbitrary, and so a few court cases later, civil unions were extended to two or more consenting adults. Furthermore, these adults were no longer required to be physically intimate with one another.
The lifting of these restrictions gave birth to the Great Families, which at first grew slowly until they became viable alternatives to corporations. With families, risks and rewards were shared more equitably, and members found a positive psychological component as well.
There used to be a saying that went, “You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.” Well, needless to say, that is now history.
D_Light was aching all over, but he stood up straight anyway. And although his lip was swelling up and bleeding, he managed a rather convincing smile. However, nagging at him more than anything was the intense pain in his groin where someone-probably well intentioned-had squeezed a bit too hard. Tattered, the hero of the day stood in all his glory, covered in sweat and a little blood. Members of the congregation regarded him with the full spectrum of emotions evident in their stares.
“Now for the real fun!” bellowed the minister, his voice exploding through the relative quiet of the great room. “Let’s see the story! Deeeelight, can we hear it straight from the source?”
Back at his podium, A_Dude was smiling with his unnervingly large mouth. He was perhaps the ugliest man in D_Light’s family. The minister must not have had any genetic engineering in his background, or if he did, it had obviously not gone as planned. Really, there was no excuse for such homeliness in this day and age, but everyone loved him anyway. Perhaps his unique appearance, although grotesque by conventional standards, was at least distinguishing.
Master, there is a request from A_Dude to broadcast your archives captured yesterday between the hours of 20:04 and 20:34.
Although he wished he could ignore Smorgeous’s message, D_Light knew that was not an option. He hated the testimony, dreaded it even more than the violence of the opening hymn. But tradition was tradition, and when a player accomplished an exceptional deed in the Game, it was customary to bear testimony of that deed. To do this, one did not tell the tale in the player’s own words; instead, the events were shared by broadcasting one’s personal archive so that everything could be viewed exactly as it had occurred. This was a far more accurate way to recount the story, not to mention a lot more entertaining for the congregation. Since players’ familiars recorded every sight, sound, smell, and surface thought of their masters for possible later retrieval, sharing experiences was quite easy.
D_Light’s smile faded as he telepathically replied to Smorgeous, Fine, I grant permission for a public feed between those hours.
A moment later, the minds of D_Light and all the others in the cathedral were submerged in the sights, scents, and auditory experiences of D_Light at 20:04 on the previous day. As D_Light saw the first scene of his archive, he was immediately thankful that it was no longer in vogue to include one’s personal thoughts in testimony feeds. A certain amount of privacy was a good thing. However, the thoughts archive was still available to D_Light, should he desire to relive the whole event in its entirety. He was not sure he was ready to remember it all just yet, still recovering from this morning’s wretched display of weakness. What if watching the archive feed inspired another performance by his rebellious stomach? Still, he had to admit to a twinge of morbid curiosity, or perhaps it was an insatiable need to revisit an old wound, like picking at a scab against one’s better judgment.
D_Light closed his eyes, revealing the usual wall of blackness. Moments later, as his familiar began streaming the archive, the darkness quickly swept aside to reveal his own vision from the night before. Everything appeared exactly as it had-the ever-present specter of the outline of his nose, a few rogue hairs from his bangs that had managed to find their way into his peripheral vision, and the girl from last night, appearing exactly as she did at 20:03.
It was hard for D_Light to peer through his own eyes without having control of where they looked. It was like traveling back in time, but with no free will. The die had already been cast, and he was now a mere spectator of his own life. All that he did-everything he said, all those decisions he made-was done hours ago. Also troubling was the fact that even though he had reviewed countless hours of his own archives in the past, he still found hearing his old thoughts played back on top of his current ones rather disconcerting. For this reason, he could never handle watching his own archives with the thoughts turned on for very long. It was maddening.
The D_Light of 16.2 hours ago set his eyes on Fael’s face, a face that now filled the vision of the entire congregation. One look and it was obvious that she was descended from the Murmos line. Although she had the telltale olive skin, jet-black hair, and angular face, it was actually the eyes that gave away her lineage. Voluminous green eyes, not cold like those of his cat-styled familiar, but warm and sensuous. Her voluptuous lips were naturally pink and plump, painted with a sheer, glossy finishing product that seemed to beg for kissing.
The whistles and catcalls started up immediately. Although immersed in the archive feed, D_Light could unfortunately still hear the congregation. “Go, D-bone!” “MaximumAss™!” “Light that up, D!” It was juvenile, but just the sort of outburst that was appreciated during a communal replay of a frag archive.
Fael’s narrow nose lifted slightly at the tip, not enough to see the nostrils, but enough to give a youthful perkiness. This type of nose was in style long ago, and apparently one of Fael’s ancestors had gotten one. Although it was well sculpted, it was not at all unique, and so while Fael would certainly be considered beautiful to people of previous generations, she did not stand out in a contemporary crowd. D_Light recalled how, on a previous date, Fael had lamented her common nose, saying how she wished she could have it redesigned. Of course, it was a minor transgression for players to make such modifications. Such an act would fall into both the categories of “wasteful vanity” and “false advertising.” Besides, males and females of the Murmos line profited from their classic, albeit predictable, beauty. Nine out of ten Murmos males and females played royal grinder games, and royalty demanded a certain traditional aesthetic look from those who served them.
While her nose might have been unremarkable, Fael more than made up for it with her keen ability to work the fashion angle. Her shiny black hair, for example, was styled playfully. Long black pigtails sprung up at forty-five degree angles and then drooped down behind her shoulders. Her clothing was always trendy and unconventional, and she tended to accessorize with small living creatures or the latest genetically engineered plant life. Given her affinity for bizarre fashion, one would think she’d have a field day with footwear, but Fael preferred her feet bare. She insisted that there were too many fantastic toe rings, ankle bracelets, and retro toe tattoo designs out there to cover them up with shoes.
For this date, Fael and D_Light had planned to attend a comedy downtown, making a playful look an appropriate choice. D_Light’s appearance was not playful. In fact, he felt a bit stuffy in the presence of Fael, old and unimaginative. His hair-dark, coarse, wavy, and mid-length-did not permit much in the way of styling, and it tended to succumb to entropy despite attempts to tame it. For a man, making a fashion statement was pretty much limited to clothes and hair, and since the hair was out, perhaps he should have done something more creative with his illusionary clothing. Next to Fael, his loose red silk shirt and dark slacks made him look more like her father than her date. Of course, he could render a new outfit at any time, but that might be perceived as a sign of being self-conscious. Not attractive. On the other hand, perhaps he could make light of the situation by asking her to help him come up with something more fun. Yes, that’s what he would do, should the conversation dry up and need a punch.
“Beloved brother,” the woman said while bowing ceremoniously. Although it was their third date in as many months, they still greeted formally.
“Lovely sister.” D_Light bowed also, allowing his gaze to rove over the rest of her curvaceous body. The delicious creature was wearing a perfectly formfitting emerald green suit that left little to the imagination. His breath stopped, a common reaction of men who suddenly find themselves in the presence of a Murmos woman.
Back in the cathedral, the whistling and scattered laughter continued. Had D_Light known he was going to have to publish this archive to everyone he knew, he might not have ogled the girl so thoroughly upon first sight. Ironically, the D_Light of those previous hours had thought himself clever and discreet by looking over the woman during his slow, formal bow, but Fael had noticed immediately.
“Oh, you see!” She beamed as she took note of his inspection. “It’s an organic. It’s designed by PrimeFlavor™. Breathes as though you have on nothing at all.” She let loose a curt laugh, extended her arms outward, and then twirled to show off her suit.
D_Light’s hand shot out compulsively and stroked the top of her jewel-green sleeve. The skintight plant had an undulating ribbed texture, a pleasure to his fingertips. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the living fabric, and it enticed him. He commented, “I really ought to get one of these someday. Expensive?”
D_Light nervously continued to watch the archive feed, noticing that his left eye had been twitching while chatting with Fael about her suit. That mutinous left eye! It always acted up when he was anxious or excited, thwarting his attempts to portray a cool and casual appearance. D_Light bit his lower lip and hoped the congregation did not notice his wild eyelid snapping about.
“Oh, it’s a PrimeFlavor™, so it set me back a few days in the Game,” the girl answered. “But you have to live a little, right? Wait a minute, you’ve never worn a PrimeFlavor™? Ever?”
D_Light shook his head, noting that his date was making excessive references to the brand name of the suit. No formalities there, he thought. She’s feeling comfortable enough to name-drop. She must like me.
Name-dropping, more commonly referred to as just “dropping,” was the common practice of casually promoting products in conversation. Merely mentioning a brand name usually earned a player a point or two, but if the conversation resulted in an actual sale, you stood to make much more.
“Oh, shut up!” she shouted. “You have to wear one! Feeling it from the outside is nothing, nothing at all. Right now I’m tingling all over. Oh Soul, it’s like being in the shower all day long!” She rolled her shoulders from front to back and did a seductive little purr.
“When will it die?” D_Light asked without thinking. Snap, is it impolite to ask about the death of one’s garment so early in a relationship? D_Light wondered.
Polite or not, Fael didn’t seem to mind. “I bought a three-week lifespan. I’m sure I’ll get tired of the color before then anyway, although I heard if you switch up your diet the fabric changes hue. Anyway, it’s not like I can wear it every day; it wouldn’t be proper. What would the other girls think? I would if I could though,” she said with a naughty laugh. “You know, even though Lyra started the trend and-” The girl abruptly ended her mile-a-minute chatter, smirked, and looked guiltily at D_Light. “I’m sorry, enough babble. Bottom line is I love my PrimeFlavor™, and I’ll have to buy you one if you’re too cheap to buy it yourself.”
They continued walking down the wide castle hall. D_Light was only jacked into a lightweight skin, just so he could see in the dark. He didn’t want to distract himself with ads, bulletin announcements, and the like while on his date. Without the SkinWare rendering anything over it, the walls were bare-merely large blocks of granite cemented together with ivory grout. Two men strolled ahead silently, their bird familiars deftly riding their masters’ shoulders while staring into one another’s eyes. Smorgeous took the liberty of grokking the men, looking up their identiy by searching for their faces on the Cloud. The men were brothers of the family, but no one D_Light knew personally. Only marketers of relatively low level.
“So, what’s new with you?” Fael asked.
D_Light actually preferred to be the listener in a one-way conversation, but he shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Grinder games, unfortunately.” His voice was apologetic.
“Yeah, I’ve been pepped for three days straight,” he continued. “The game finally timed out like two hours ago.” He lowered his head and tapped his foot a few times on the floor beneath him.
Fael smiled sweetly. “Three days? Phew! So, what? Are you still pepped?” she inquired.
D_Light let out an exhausted sigh that he feared was a little too dramatic. “Yeah, haven’t slept yet. I’m starting to feel it though. I took some Kick_n_Go™. Good stuff, no real side effects, but my neck’s a little stiff.” He placed his hand on the back of his neck and briefly worked at the tense muscles.
Now I’m whining like a little bitch! D_Light thought. The indignity of that last sentence was not worth the three points he just scored for using the brand name Kick_n_Go™.
“Sweeeet™, you didn’t crash out and flake our date!” she exclaimed. “You get extra points for that!” Fael reached over and scratched the back of his head like a good dog. D_Light threw out a half-cocked smile as he caught a whiff of her inviting perfume, an exotic blend of sandalwood and ardonna flower. However, he was quickly distracted by an ad forwarded to him by Fael that stated, “You need some R amp;R at Defraggers Spa and Luxury Resort™.” The ad included a construct video of Fael, sporting a skimpy bathing suit, beckoning to follow her as she bounced toward an immense, white sand beach.
“So, what was the game?” Fael nonchalantly slid her fingers down the side of his face, playfully bouncing her hand off one of his wide shoulders and then returning her hand to her side.
“Oh, it was a free-for-all. Four teams with three days to slap down as many points as possible in any way we could think.”
Fael raised her eyebrows with apparent interest. D_Light continued with a tone of sarcastic smugness. “Yeah, your man here made all the difference. It was a cheap move, but I punched together some avatars that scored enough to win us the game. As a matter of fact, it was your mistress who paid the most for one of them.”
“Mother Lyra bought one of your avatars?” Fael hopped and clasped her hands together like a happy toddler on her second birthday. “Small world!” she exclaimed.
D_Light noticed that Fael often summoned a great deal of enthusiasm for the smallest things. But he supposed it was better than dates he’d had with players whose weary souls could barely summon a smile for anything.
“Small world?” replied D_Light. “Not really. The game was closed to everyone outside the castle. There are only a couple thousand people here. But yeah, I suppose it’s an interesting coincidence.”
“Perv me, I’m getting soft just listening to this shit!” someone in the congregation shouted. More laughter.
My Soul, this is embarrassing! D_Light had never taken pride in his small talk skills, but normally his failures were more private. He had to wonder if anyone in his family would date him after this.
Not missing a beat, Fael did a little skip, seemingly unconsciously. “I guess my mistress has good taste then. What avatar did she buy?”
D_Light lowered his voice and muffled his answer. “Oh, it was a creature, a monster really. Part seagull and part-”
Fael interrupted. “You didn’t! You created SeaGuy™?” She raised both hands to her mouth and gasped with disbelief.
“You know my work then?” D_Light’s voice was elated.
“Oh, my mistress has been parading that monstrosity through her chambers for the past two days!” Fael’s eyes widened, and she clasped D_Light’s shoulders and shook him violently. She then pushed him back with mock disgust. “It’s disturbing, really! I mean, the seagull’s head…its beak is constantly dripping with blood, its eyes are demonic green. Its voice-its voice is straight from hell!” Fael laughed.
“Yep, that’s why I knew someone would bid high for it. It’s got local appeal.” D_Light did a quick little dance consisting of a few slides of his feet coordinated with the tilting of his head. This was a shortened version of what he liked to call his “victory jig.”
“Living on the ocean, we do have our share of flying rats.” Fael paused, pursed her chiseled lips, and then punched him hard in the shoulder. “D_Light, you’re sick! Flip, I ought to resubmit for another date right now!”
“But we won,” D_Light reiterated, resisting the temptation to rub his now throbbing shoulder. Fael was as strong as she was beautiful.
She nodded. “Anyway, what are you doing grinding away on productive work? I thought you engineers were all hopelessly addicted to spank games.” Fael put her hand on her chest, which she puffed out imperiously. “Personally, I don’t need spank games. I’m a handmaiden of the royal court, so I have plenty of palace intrigue to amuse me.”
D_Light nodded. “Oh, I’m plenty addicted, but I know how to control myself-er, at least a little. I try to play just enough to keep in shape and to unwind, but it’s really easy to go overboard.” D_Light raised his eyebrows as though he was about to give the girl an education. “Take my friend C. He just got off an eight-day binge. Even the peps weren’t helping. He was actually starting to hallucinate! And you say I’m sick?”
“Yeah, domination baby!” D_Light recognized his friend C’s voice in the distance.
“Sure, I already called you sick, and I meant it,” Fael replied with a playful smirk.
“Yeah, I am sick,” continued D_Light, “because I actually felt jealous of poor C. Jealous he had all that time to spank while I was grinding. If I let myself, I’d be there too, letting it suck me up. And then what? Spank games don’t pay out enough, and I’d end up getting demoted a level.” D_Light shook his head and looked to the side.
“And then you’d be in an even worse dating pool than you are now,” teased Fael, sticking out her tongue at him in a lighthearted manner.
Fael strolled ahead, bouncing slightly as she walked. “Seriously though, present company excluded, if the dating pool was any worse, I think I’d have to frag myself.”
D_Light laughed genuinely. “So true! I’ve been on nothing but stinkers lately. You know, the dating program should be pretty good. I know one of the lead software engineers-a sister of ours, actually-and she’s a good player, a real high scorer. I think she’s even nobility bound.”
Fael turned around and walked backwards, facing him while she talked. “Sometimes I wish they’d just let us choose, you know?”
“Sure, but you earn more points if you play MatchMaker™,” D_Light reminded her. “Besides, it’s not about whose company you prefer, it’s about what’s best for you. Humans are notoriously stupid when it comes to knowing what’s best for them in regard to the opposite sex.”
Fael pouted. “Hmm, well, you need to ask your software engineer friend how she knows what’s best for me, unless her program is trying to teach me the lesson of futility. In that case, tell her-”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by an ear-piercing wail of sirens. Instinctively, D_Light spun around quickly and took a brief but thorough look at the other players in the hall. Presently, there were only the two marketers nearby. Both men had turned to face Fael and D_Light. Their eyes were wide, and the color had already drained from their frightened faces. Fear was good. That was safe. The shrieking siren died down after only a few seconds and was then replaced by a low, rhythmic pulse. Over the audio a sharp female voice intoned, “House Rule Number Seven is now in effect. All house players are now available for termination.”
“Oh, Flip_It™!” Fael squeaked nervously. “Guess the hunt is on.”
Back in the cathedral, the excitement was palpable. A male member of the congregation shouted, “Game on, bitches!” This was accompanied by cheers.
“I say we sit this one out,” suggested D_Light to his date.
Fael looked over with sarcastic coyness and replied, “Your place or mine then?”
Whistles and catcalls erupted from the congregation.
“I’m closer, I think. Follow me.” D_Light waved for her to follow, and Fael eagerly complied.
As was usual during Number Seven, the SkinWare soon shut down. Without a skin showing you the way, the castle was pitch black at night. To mitigate this, white-burning torches placed evenly along the walls flared up with a glow that, under other circumstances, might have been romantic.
D_Light led the way running, not at a full sprint, but certainly faster than a jog. Others were running too, some of them in a panic, like frightened rabbits, making them tempting targets. As he came across other players in the hallway, he presented his hands to them, palms up, and they did the same. Each made a point of making eye contact and nodding in a reassuring fashion while skirting around one another.
Up the spiral staircase they scrambled. D_Light hated winding stairs, as they limited visibility to only a few steps ahead-a likely ambush point to be sure. Perhaps there was a flake waiting on the steps, blade raised. He quickly erased the thought from his mind and focused his attention on the task at hand.
Strategically, he kept to the outer wall, almost flat against it. He wanted to move quickly, but he did not want to run headlong into the wrong player. With a quick thought, he ordered Smorgeous to go up ahead. It was against the rules to use familiars as scouts while Rule Seven was in effect, but he had always worried about this staircase. Hopefully, his little cheat would go unnoticed.
D_Light twisted slightly, bumping into Fael’s familiar, a tan and white creature stylized as a fox. The familiar looked up at him with its big, pale, dispassionate blue eyes. It was constantly shifting its attention all around, its head swiveling unnaturally, like a cannon in a turret. A few steps below stood Fael. D_Light smiled down at her and touched his index finger to his lips to indicate quiet. She smiled back, or at least that’s what he thought. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking and it was really nothing more than a twitching of the corners of her mouth.
They waited there for only a second, and he took that brief moment to find the key to his chamber and clasp it in his sweaty palm. Distantly, echoing through the stone corridors, there was shouting and screaming. Smorgeous gave the all clear, prompting D_Light to whisper with a hiss, “Okay, run!”
D_Light bounded up the steps as fast as he could, momentarily catching up to his familiar. The door to his chamber was near the top of the stairs. Across from his door on the hallway wall hung a painting of a lone, jagged rock under siege by savage green ocean waves. D_Light had used his door countless times before, but since so many of the castle halls and doors looked alike, the memorable painting offered a welcome confirmation that he was indeed at the right door. Soft, glowing light filtered through a nearby window. The moon, perhaps. He did not have time to look or care, as he was intent on the lock. Jamming the key in the hole, he opened the portal. He turned his head just before throwing himself in, and as he did so, he saw something that made his blood turn to ice.
The torches played tricks with light, for sure, but D_Light thought he saw something down at the end of the hall-something hideous that moved fast from one wall to the next with inhuman speed. He stifled an unmanly yelp and pulled Fael into the chamber with him.
The door slammed shut, and the two stood motionless, breathing hard. As they caught their breath, with the sturdy door between them and whatever was on the outside, the weary duo soon found themselves at ease enough to laugh. The familiars made no noise, but merely watched, taking it all in.
Fael rested her hand on her heaving chest. Her smooth forehead glistened slightly with sweat. Eyes wide, jaw dropped, she asked, “Did you see that thing?”
“What, down the hall?” D_Light inquired.
“Yeah, just as you opened the door, I saw what I…I think it was a man. Or not a man,” she whispered between breaths.
D_Light nodded. “I thought I saw something, but just barely,” he said with uncertainly.
Fael blinked hard, rubbed her eyes, and said, “I just saw the face, er, mask. It looked like a lion or something truly ghastly! I just got a glimpse, but it was enough.”
D_Light chuckled. “If you’re trying to get me in the mood by scaring me, well, you don’t need to.”
With that, she grabbed his stomach lightly and squeezed. “Hey, you’re the ghastly beast, D_Light. I’m serious about the lion. I’m a very serious girl. You’ll see.” D_Light, a bit ticklish, recoiled from her menacing fingers and smiled wryly.
“Yeah, serious is the first word that comes to mind when thinking of you.” D_Light took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, still recovering from the frantic race to his dwelling.
“Okay, so it was a mask? How do you know it was a man?”
“’Cause it had the body of a man, kinda fat too.” She poked at him again.
D_Light parried her poke and lunged at her flank with two fingers. “Okay, so there’s a fat guy running around my hallway with a lion mask on?”
Fael gave a strong confirming nod and replied, “Yeah, pretty hot, huh? Maybe I should invite him in?” She made a mock motion for the door, giggling like a child.
“This sucks!” yelled someone from the congregation. “Get it on, already!” yelled another.
“Yeah, now we’re having fun! I’ve always thought that getting hunted in my own home would be a great icebreaker with the ladies-just never had the opportunity to test my theory until tonight!” Without thinking, D_Light put his left hand up on the door as though he meant to block her exit.
“Well, your theory might be correct.” She squealed and slapped his hand as he managed to prod her in the ribs with a finger from his right hand.
It was about then that D_Light realized that he probably hadn’t looked all that cool running around like a frightened rabbit out there while Number Seven was in effect. Worse was the absolute silliness of this poking and prodding dance between himself and Fael; obviously, his techniques of wooing the ladies had not changed since he was a young boy. Soul, I really should take some time to come up with some new moves, he thought while redirecting his attention back to the subject at hand.
“So, I s’pose the mask is meant to frighten the wits out of anyone he gets the jump on,” mused D_Light as he made a mock lunge at his date, abandoning his earlier notion that his physical flirtations were lame.
“Sure, when you turn your back to run, it’s easy to get a knife stuck in it,” replied Fael, retreating from D_Light’s tickling fingers. She sank down into a spongy moss chair that conformed perfectly to her body. Fael, a forty-eight-year-old woman with the body and skin of someone less than half her age, suddenly looked even younger as she slouched back and casually draped a long, lean leg over the arm of the chair. D_Light felt something stir in him, and while reveling in the feeling, he nearly failed to notice that the luscious creature was again speaking to him.
“Truly, anyone who actually participates in Seven is already a bit dodgy, but someone who uses a mask, actually employs props? Now that’s downright sick!” She crinkled her face in disgust and relaxed back into the chair.
“With the psychos out there, I guess we’re just stuck in my room for…a whole hour.”
Wow, that wasn’t very subtle, D_Light thought.
Fael laughed. “Yes, your rather…er, depressing room.” Fael surveyed the chamber with her dark, sculpted eyebrows raised high. “You know, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but your room could use a little color, don’t you think? I mean, I know you want to keep that naturally drafty castle look and all, but um, I don’t know, maybe a little artwork?”
D_Light forced a mock smile-lips pursed tightly-and gave Fael a look to indicate that he was indeed listening, but not particularly pleased with what he was hearing. He liked his minimalist surroundings. He had all the essentials-two chairs, a desk, a table, and a bed. As a bonus, he even had a few plants to make the room smell nice and provide nectar snacks.
“And yes,” Fael continued, “I think our only option is to hide. After all, I left my sword in my chamber. I realize plebs get rowdy at comedies sometimes, but when I left my chamber this evening I didn’t expect I’d have to shed any blood!”
D_Light took another decisive step toward her. Now standing between her spread legs, looking down at the woman sprawled out on his favorite chair, D_Light took the opportunity to thoroughly check her out once again. Nope, she certainly wasn’t carrying a sword. Not a lot she could be carrying at all, he thought.
There was a moment of silence in the archive. A congregation member yelled out, “Go, Deee!” There was more whistling, but the cathedral quickly grew silent. No one wanted to miss what seemed to be imminent.