#MMM I LOVE THE TASTE OF EMOTIONAL DEVASTATION IN THE MORNING

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Five

Summary: A lazy, sensual Sunday with Pretty Girl

Warnings: Smut, language, body image issues. WC-3,450

A/N: See below for how I wished I had spent my Sunday. More to come still, lovelies! 

Flip was warm all over. Except for his face. He could feel, as his consciousness waded to the surface, that his nose was frozen. But the rest of him was so deliciously warm. The juxtaposition bringing the memories of the night before rushing back, and Flip opened his eyes.

The morning light was dull, evidence of the continuing torrential downpour he could hear against the window panes. It hadn’t been a dream, he had stayed the night at (Y/N)’s home. He had thought he’d been dreaming, for a moment.

The fire had burnt out, and the air was cold around them. Flip suspected the power still hadn’t come back on. He would need to get another fire going, which meant he had to get up. He shifted his gaze down to (Y/N), who had curled up into his side in the night. Her head was resting just below his heart, her breathing slow and even. He still had an arm around her waist beneath the blanket; he splayed his hand out across the soft flesh of her lower back as thoughts of what they had done together swirled around his mind and happiness filled his chest.

The taste of her skin, the fervour of her kisses, softness of her lips. It had been beyond his wildest dreams when he was inside of her, drawing out moans and whimpers of his name. The pleasure he had experienced with her was like nothing he’d ever felt in his life. Flip was already addicted to her. Not just to how she made him feel, but the way they seemed to be perfectly matched, never fumbling, pulling the euphoria from within one another as though they alone were the chosen to plumb such intimate depths. He’d never felt stronger, more powerful, her in his arms and his name on her lips as they moved together in a dance that only they heard the music too. It felt like home. It felt like...everything.

With his free hand, Flip slowly trailed up her arm and across her cheek, pushing back some of her hair that had fallen forward as she slept. He could see that she was still completely out, and if his sense of time was still reliable, he had to guess it was pretty early still. Even without their activities hours prior, she would doubtless have been intending to sleep in on her Sunday morning. He considered falling back asleep, but feeling the fullness in his bladder, he merely sighed before slowly easing himself off the couch, working to avoid jostling her too much as she breathed deeply.

Flip settled the blanket around her before quietly making his way around the couch toward the bathroom. It was freezing in the house-he stopped in the kitchen and flipped the light switch, confirming the power was still down. After relieving himself and washing his hands in the cold water, Flip returned to the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water. After chugging it, he refilled it and wandered back into the living room.

(Y/N) was still soundly asleep, utterly content. Flip watched her a moment, the feeling in his chest intensifying, an adoration and fierce protectiveness rearing within. He realized, as he gazed down at the woman before him, that he’d never truly been in love before. Nothing had ever come close to feeling like this.  

He set the water down on the nearby end table and then got to work on the fire, eager to lay back down. Getting it up and roaring in no time, he continued to crouch, heating his naked body before returning to the couch. He considered whether he should lift her, or try to slip in next to her when she suddenly gave a breathy little sigh in her sleep and rolled over.

Now laying on her back, the blanket slipped to reveal her breasts, and Flip felt a twitch in his cock at the sight of them, marred somewhat by the marks he had left. An almost possessive feeling sparked. Before he knew what he was doing, Flip kneeled next to her on the ground and kissed her forehead as his hand trailed down, kneading the soft skin before continuing. He was mesmerized by her face, searching for any slight expression that might slip out as he touched her. He wanted to see how far he could get before waking her up.

Moving lower still, his hand cupped her mound and he began tracing his middle finger up and down the slit. There. Movement behind her eyelids. He slowly, slowly dipped into her warmth, pulled out, then just as slowly dipped in two fingers. She huffed out a little breath, and he could sense she was nearing waking.

Continuing his slow movements, Flip lowered his head and kissed her on the forehead, cheek, the corner of her mouth. She was already wet, his touches only bringing out more of her juices as she came to, huffing out a breath.

“Mmm,” She murmured, a little smile quirking the corners of her mouth, “Didn’t get enough of me last night, Detective?”

Flip smirked at her cheek, “Never going to get enough of you, beautiful, pretty girl.” He whispered back, ghosting his lips over her ear before nuzzling into her neck and dipping his fingers in deeper. She let out a low moan, her legs falling open and hips rolling as he teased her. She was devastating when she moaned for him, making him grow harder.

“Fuck, you sure know how to wake a girl up,” (Y/N) sighed, her eyes blinking open and seeking out his. She smiled up at him, “D-did you sleep alright?” He wasn’t stopping, enjoying watching her battle the feelings he was giving her and her need to take care of him.

Flip nipped her collarbone, “Best sleep of my life,” He sucked a mark into the side of her breast, earning a whimper from her that went straight to his cock. The room felt warm enough from the fire for Flip to remove the blanket. He pushed it down slowly so as not to startle her. When it hit the floor, (Y/N)‘s eyes flashed open and Flip was surprised to see shyness appear, her legs automatically closing and trapping his hand.

He gazed at her a moment, brows furrowing in concern, “Do you want me to stop? Is this too much?”

She bit her lip as she met his eyes, “No I...I’m a little self-conscious, I mean,” She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands as Flip watched, “I’m a little overweight, and I-“

Abruptly, she stopped speaking when she watched Flip’s face fall from concern to outright shock, “Darling, you have the most beautiful body I’ve ever fucking seen,” He breathed, bringing his free hand to stroke her hair. He let his eyes wander over every delicious curve, lowering his face to kiss the soft skin, “You’re perfect. I spent months picturing you, and you’re better than I ever dreamed-softest skin, beautiful tits, the prettiest pussy. These fucking curves, these will be the death of me.” He accentuated his words by moving his fingers within her again, gently coaxing her legs to relax as he found the spongy spot within that brought out the strongest orgasms.

He glanced back up at her, checking in, and saw the emotions swirling in her eyes, “You really think so?” When he nodded earnestly, she considered for a moment before asking him, “You pictured me...?”

Flip smirked at her, “All the damn time. Want to know what surpassed my imagination, pretty girl?” He whispered, moving down the couch as he spoke. Her eyes followed his movements, pupils blown in desire.

“What’s that, detective?”

Flip slide his hands under her, sinking his fingers into the flesh of her ass and slowly turning her just enough that she could still lay, her pussy was exposed for him. Licking his lips, he hooked her legs over his shoulders and met her wide eyes.

“You taste fucking divine. I could spend all day licking this sweet pussy.” Before she could do more than drop her mouth open, Flip had leaned in and brought his mouth to her folds, immediately zoning in on her sensitive nub. Her legs tightened in response and her hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his hair roughly.

“Flip!” She cried out, spurring him on. He licked and lapped at her, using his hands to massage her thighs, occasionally sucking on her sensitive clit. She was soaked for him; the more he touched her, the wetter she got, her sweet juices flowing freely. Flip didn’t tease her this time. He worked to get her to the edge as quickly as possible, waiting for her legs to tense before adding two fingers and pulling her orgasm from deep within, her body arching up and hands pulling his head into her core as she screamed his name and trembled in ecstasy.

He helped her navigate the waves of pleasure; moaning in delight at her taste, the feel of her hands in his hair. When she came down, whimpering, he guided her, teasing a little to overstimulate her, enjoying the way her hips would jerk in response. When her body relaxed back down and her breathing became less erratic, Flip moved to kiss her thighs.

“You look fucking gorgeous when you cum for me, did you know that (Y/N)?”

“Fuck,” She breathed, lifting her head to gaze down at him, eyes noticing his hard cock beading with precum, “Flip, how are you this amazing? That was incredible.” (Y/N) whispered, one of her hands stroking his cheek with affection. She seemed to be waiting for him to move himself up against her body, to join them together again. He merely smiled, his eyes on hers as he slipped a finger back inside of her.

She was so wet Flip could have cum right that moment.

“What?” He asked her when she frowned curiously at him, “Did you think I was done, pretty girl? No, see I don’t have any plans today, and I know you don’t either. I’m going to stay right here and eat you out until I get my fill. I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you. Does that sound okay?” He delighted at her response, the way she bit her lip as he growled at her, the way her cunt clenched around his finger. He bit her thigh again when she didn’t respond right away.

“Sounds...uh, perfect, Flip, fuck.” She moaned, and then her eyes were rolling back when he dove back in, this time taking his sweet time to lick at her. He would spend easily twenty minutes edging her before letting her cum again, only to give her another few minutes to recover before going again. And again.

Flip spent a few hours of that early Sunday morning lazily eating out (Y/N)‘s pussy and pulling out orgasm after orgasm, relishing in each one, each cry of his name, tug of his hair, pleading for him to stop despite her grip keeping him close. When tears slipped out from the pleasure and she was begging for him inside of her, to fuck her, he finally relented. Lifting her hips in the air and wrapping her legs around his waist, Flip plunged inside of (Y/N) with a growl. She so incredibly tight, despite the juices from her many orgasms. He rutted into her as she screamed for more below him, squeezing her ass as he held her up.

When he filled her again, his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave, so strong it tore another from her tired body and they both screamed. Then they were a jumble on the couch, clutching one another and gasping for air.

Kissing endlessly, they caught their breath and whispered I love you into the morning.

I love you.

I’ve always loved you.

I’ll always love you.

+

“I’ve got to admit,” (Y/N) spoke from the kitchen table, where she sat wrapped in a thick dressing gown. Her eyes on Flip she joked, “I do enjoy watching you cook for me.”

Flip laughed, “You do enough baking for me, figured I’d return the favour by giving you a proper breakfast.” He wiped some grease that had splashed up from the frying pan onto the dishtowel he’d slung over his shoulder.

At some point in the morning, going entirely unnoticed by them, the power had come back on. When Flip finally saw the blinking light from the microwave clock, he’d jumped up from the couch to get the heat started. The house now returning to comfortable temperatures, they had agreed a brunch was in order after their morning. Flip was starving.

He still felt as though he were dreaming. He stood in only his boxers in his best friend's kitchen, cooking up a full breakfast while her eyes watched him, seemingly drinking in the view. Flip figured she probably felt just as amazed as him at the turn the last day had taken. He glanced at her, smiling, and she blushed before returning his grin.

When the food was ready, Flip piled both their plates up and set them on the table. He pushed his seat right next to (Y/N)’s and pulled her legs into his lap when he sat down. Now that he could touch her, he never wanted to stop. She seemed to feel similarly, her free hand resting against his stomach as they ate in comfortable silence together.  

Inwardly, Flip was delighted to see her eat her fill. He’d often worried she didn’t eat enough, and after hearing the concerns of her appearance that morning, he now knew why. He understood her worries-his own mother had always put herself down. He’d always hated it, always tried to tell her she was beautiful. He’d been around (Y/N) enough to notice men’s lingering looks or backwards glances. It pissed him off that they made her feel self-conscious, and he wished he could prevent any man from ever looking at her like that again. She was perfect, and she didn’t even realize it because of them.

“Flip,” Her voice broke him from his thoughts, and he paused from sipping his coffee to meet her eyes. She was watching him closely, “What are you thinking about that’s got you frowning like that?”

Flip chuckled, “Observant little thing.”

“Took me a while to figure out the differences in all your frowns, but I think I do alright.” She admitted, laughing when he gave her a surprised look.

“Didn’t realize you spent that much time looking at me, pretty girl.”

She set down her mug of coffee, and Flip copied her, his eyes following her as she sat up, moving to straddle his lap. Her hands pushed into his hair before she leaned into his chest and pressed soft kisses along his jaw, “Too caught up in your head, detective.” She murmured into his neck, and he shivered, his hands gripping her hips.

“Always been a problem of mine.” He agreed in a low voice.

(Y/N) pulled her head back to look at him, “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” Her voice was soft, whispered into the space between them, “Thinking I’m already so in love with you. It scares me.” Flip’s heart stuttered at her words, his hands tightening their hold, pulling her body as close against him as possible.

“Yeah,” He rasped, his face a breath away from hers, “Scares me too. In the best sort of way.” He made to close the gap as she gazed at him with adoring eyes.

Before he could meet her lips, they were startled by a knock on the front door. Frowning, (Y/N) climbed out of his lap and peered down the hallway toward the front door. When she looked back at Flip, her eyes were wide.

“Uh, it’s my sister and brother in law...”

Flip laughed, his cheeks flushing, “Didn’t think I’d be meeting your family so quickly!” He stood and hurried into the living room, casting his eyes across the mess. It was wildly evident what they had been up to the night before (and all morning). He quickly pulled on his sweatpants and sweater as he listened to (Y/N) hurrying toward the door, calling out that she was on her way. He tossed the blankets back on the couch, but that was all he could do before she was ushering her family inside, face red.

“So, Bailey, John, this is-“ She trailed off, eyes meeting Flip’s from across the room, and he wanted to laugh at how scared (Y/N) looked as she gestured at him wordlessly.

Stepping toward the sister and brother in law, Flip extended his hand and offered a friendly grin, “Flip Zimmerman, the lucky boyfriend.” He supplied. He watched as the same expression crossed (Y/N)'s and her sisters' faces; brows shooting up, eyes wide.

Bailey looked a lot like (Y/N), there was no doubt they were sisters. But she was taller, more thinly built compared to her younger sister's curves. She had the same smile, though, and it met her eyes when she returned his handshake. “Good to meet you finally, Flip.” He nodded, smiling, and turned to her husband.

Clasping the man's hand, Flip’s gaze swept over the brother in law. He was broad-shouldered, standing at the same height as his wife, and had the friendliest look about him. Red-haired with a thick, tidy bead, he had the appearance of a jovial older brother. Flip instantly liked him.

“Flip, it’s a pleasure. Wasn’t expecting to meet you today, I’d have worn my other sweater,” He joked, then glanced down at (Y/N), “Or my robe. Although Bailey wants to throw mine out.”

Bailey scoffed, “It has more holes in it than fabric, Jay. Anyway,” She smiled widely at her sister, “We just wanted to stop by and see if your power came back alright.”

(Y/N) had walked over to stand next to Flip, who automatically draped an arm over her shoulders. Bailey’s eyes lit up at this, her lips quirking slightly at the corners. She said nothing but gave her sister a pointed look. He now understood why (Y/N) always smiled when telling stories about her family-they were hilarious.

“That was nice of you, I honestly got lucky that Flip was able to stop by.”

“Got lucky alright.” John chuckled. Bailey burst into laughter and Flip joined in as (Y/N) buried her head into his side and groaned in embarrassment.

Flip couldn’t stop grinning.

+

Flip spent the rest of the day at (Y/N)‘s house, helping her to tidy up her living room after Bailey and John left, then relaxing together just how a lazy Sunday should be. When it was time for him to leave, Flip felt a mixture of emotions. He did need to go home and shower, get himself ready for the work week ahead. But they had created a bubble for the day that he didn’t want to leave. She seemed to sense this as he tied on his shoes.

“I think you should take me on a proper date tomorrow, Flip.” She was leaning against the doorway to the living room wearing nothing but her sweater. It had been the only item of clothing that had remained on when he lifted her onto her kitchen counter thirty minutes ago, sliding inside of her as her legs wrapped behind him, her hips meeting his thrusts. Both of them eager for one last kiss, one last touch, their bodies peaking in a slow haze of pleasure.

Flip stood and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head, “Nothing would make me happier. What do you want to do, pretty girl? Joe’s Diner for breakfast? Al’s for a fancy dinner? Drive out to ‘lover’s lane’ and make out?” He tilted his head, watching her happy face.

“Breakfast sounds perfect.” She giggled.

“Breakfast it is. Now,” He paused, considering his words carefully, “I know I made an assumption when I met your sister earlier, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to label this yet, or-“

Sighing, she reached up one hand and covered Flip’s mouth, “We’re dating. I’m yours, remember, detective?” Her tone was suggestive, eyes darkening somewhat as they each recalled the many, many times they had come together in the last day, making the other theirs.

Point made, he thought.

She grinned at Flip, giving him a last kiss before stepping back. He nodded and made his way to the door, stopping to glance back at (Y/N), “See you in the morning, darling.”

Flip couldn’t help but smile during his drive home, feeling elated and, for the first time in months, like he had no extra weight on his shoulders. Now he just had to worry about whether the flower shop would open before he picked her up in the morning.

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[zacknano17]

Day 20: words 38,019 - 40,047

In which, yet another beloved recurring character shows up and steals the show.

“I don't know,” Salvatore says.  “She kept secrets from me too, I'm afraid.  But if I had to guess...well, she and Alfonso had a home on the other side of town.  She's been living here, as near as I can tell, but she never sold the old house.  I always assumed it was a sentimental thing.”

“Great. So she teleported across town, huh?” Merle mutters.

“Show us the way,” Magnus demands.

“I can get there faster if you give me the address,” Kravitz says.

Salvatore shook his head.  “I would take you two to save your friend, but I can't knowingly invite an emissary of the God of Death to my lady's side,” he says.

“Listen. I wouldn't worry so much.  We've cheated soooo many souls back from this guy already, I'm sure it'd be no problem to do it again,” Magnus replies.

“You people make my job extremely difficult,” Kravitz says.  He sounds irate.  His accent is shifting again.

“Well, I mean, we did,” Merle points out.

“All right, you listen and you listen good,” Kravitz continues, focusing on the orc now.  “I have her name, and if you think I won't find her on my own, then you don't know much about the Raven Queen, do you?  Either you take us to her now and try and convince me why I ought to let her soul remain here, or I will find her myself and Reap her myself.”

Salvatore falls silent for a moment, and the book still in Kravitz' hand is snapped open again.  He drags his finger down the page, as if searching for something.

There is a mighty sigh, and Salvatore seems to make up his mind about something.  He turns toward Magnus, deliberately ignoring Kravitz' threats.  “Fine.  I will lead you to her house,” he says, resigned.  “Follow me.  I will show you the way.”

Kravitz' finger stops midway down the page and then quite suddenly jerks his finger to the side, raising a small cloud of golden dust.  He snaps the book closed and plucks a feather from his cloak.  As soon as the gold glitter on his finger touches the black feather, it begins to float, point down, about an inch above his palm.  The gold slowly overtakes it, until it is completely gold.

The book, apparently no longer needed, vanishes from his hand, and he adjust the feather so that is hovering horizontally over his hand. The point spins like a compass and settles on a direction.

He gives a pointed look at Salvatore.  “I will know if you're trying to trick us,” he says.

“I don't know if she is at the house,” Salvatore reminds him.  “I respect what you are trying to do.  But I can't know for certain where she is.  I will take you there, but if she isn't there, you cannot find fault with me.”

“Also, Krav, my man, you're gonna freak a lot of folks out if you walk down Main Street in that get up,” Magnus points out.

“...that is a fair point,” Kravitz admits.  He drops the scythe, and, as soon as he lets go of it, it dissolves into thin air.  Then his skeletal features sort of melt away and in their place appears a handsome face with an elaborate three piece suit, all done in black and deep purple and gold.  His hair is adorned with gold and purple beads and trinkets, and his fingers are heavy with rings.

The feather remains suspended over his hand, pointing insistently to the west.

“Shall we?” he asks.

Salvatore seems unfazed, but he does blink a few times at Kravitz before nodding.  “Please follow me.”

He leads them up out of the basement and takes a moment to turn the store sign to 'Closed' before he closes and locks the door behind them.  Alfonso, still quiet and apathetic, comes with them.  The creepy as fuck fake Taako does not.  It's a long walk, and the sun is slowly setting over the horizon in front of them.  The feather continues to point vaguely in the direction they are walking.

“You know,” Merle comments, breaking the silence that has overtaken the five of them, “did we even ask what she's got Taako for?  I don't quite get why she took him in the first place.”

“Hey, yeah.  That's a good point,” Magnus realizes.

“This I cannot help you with,” Salvatore admits.  “She took a shine to him as soon as she saw him, though I suspected at the time it was because he bears a superficial resemblance to Alfonso.”

Magnus looks at the elf accompanying them.  Now that Taako has gone back to his original hair color, he sees it a little.  Alfonso doesn't have that same ethereal beauty as Taako does, and his hair is cut quite a bit shorter.  His clothing is more...sensible, definitely less flashy.  But they are roughly the same height and have similar builds.

“Salvatore...you said that she tried to make Alfonso whole again with necromancy, right?” Magnus asks, with a sudden feeling of dread heavy in his mind.  “And that it didn't work?”

“That is correct, but I don't know what it is that she tried to do.”

“Hm.” Kravitz is looking Alfonso over again, not appearing to like what he sees.  “I assume it's the same sort of thing that went down in the Miller Lab.  I deal with this sort of situation a whole lot more often than you'd think.  People are always trying to fish people's souls out of the Astral Sea, as though it's that simple.”

“But instead of putting his soul into a robot, like Lucas did, she was going to put it into this dude she made,” Magnus suggests.  “But that didn't work.”

“Of course it didn't work.  This -- this isn't a vessel.  She used the Relic to make a person, and that's what it made,” Kravitz explains. “He isn't empty.  A body without a soul is a doll, completely catatonic.  This man walks around and speaks.  He doesn't have a whole soul, because she didn't try to make one of those.  But he isn't empty.  You can't put a soul into a body without taking the old soul out first, and that really isn't as easy as it sounds.”

Magnus looks over at Alfonso.  His expression is still the same and he is staring straight ahead as he walks, as if they aren't just talking about him right over here.  He doesn't seem to have any particular interest in the conversation, for the most part.  But he glances over at Magnus.

“I'm a person,” he says.  “I'm not empty.”

“Seems that way,” Magnus agrees.

“That still don't explain what she needs Taako for,” Merle points out. “If she can't rip his soul out to make room for a new one, then how is Taako gonna help with that?  Does Taako know how to rip people's souls out?”

“I doubt it.  That's a rather high level spell,” Kravitz replies. “Difficult to perform, even for the most skilled necromancer.  And, as far as I know, Taako's specialization is transmutation, not necromancy.”

“That's true,” Magnus muses.  “Is she a necromancer?  I guess I just assumed she was an illusionist.”

“She is an illusionist,” Salvatore clarifies.  “She didn't study any necromancy until she got her hands on that awful grimoire, and that was simply because she didn't know how else to get Alfonso's soul back.”

“And it's all just written down in a book?” Merle asks.  “Easy as that?”

“It isn't easy,” Kravitz insists.  “But it is possible. Usually at great cost, literally and metaphorically.  I assume our friend here had an advantage on that front, thanks to the fact that she can use the Relic to just create all her spell components.”

“Yes, that's it,” Salvatore confirms.  “The spell components were either unbelievably rare or difficult to obtain, or ridiculously expensive.  Bypassing the components would take a great deal of necromantic proficiency, of which she does not have.”

“Great, so she's got a Grand Relic and access to a bunch of necromantic spells that she shouldn't be able to do,” Magnus sighs. “Sounds like we're going to have a lot of fun with this one, huh, Merle?”

“Oh, I'm so excited I can barely stand it,” Merle deadpans.

They walk in silence for a few more minutes.  Salvatore turns the party down a few side streets, and Magnus watches as the houses they pass fall further and further into disrepair.

“Is it possible,” he says thoughtfully, “that she could learn the ability to pull someone's soul out of their body from that book?  You said it was difficult, but possible, right?”

Kravitz, now that he has a face, looks distinctly uncomfortable at the possibility.

“It would depend on the book, but...it is conceivable, yes.”

“So what if she made Alfonso here and, when she figured out why he wasn't her Alfonso, she figured it was because she had done something wrong instead of because he already had a soul or whatever he's got? Then she thinks the body is wrong, so she...took Taako instead?”

“She wouldn't do that,” Salvatore insists.

“Okay, but she did make a fake Taako, and also kidnapped Taako, apparently,” Magnus points out.  “She's done a lot of shitty things that she wouldn't normally do, right?”

“...I suppose she has.”

“So would it really be that far out if she had kidnapped Taako in order to rip his soul out of his body and put a different one in?”

There is silence after this question.  No one wants to admit that Magnus might be right.  Not even Magnus.

“Boys, we should probably hurry,” he decides.

No one argues.

The grimoire bursts into flames, and Rebekah screams.

Taako's aim was true; nothing but the book has suffered damage.  Rebekah has fallen backwards, away from the flaming pages, and Taako's body seems unburnt.  She whirls around in shock, but before she can see the umbra staff that had turned to aim at the grimoire, something else catches her attention.

“Rebekah? Rebekah!”

A ripple of shock goes through Taako at the sound of his voice.  It's weak and scratchy, like he hasn't had anything to drink in a while, but it's still his voice.  He hadn't said that.  He hadn't said anything.

The ritual.  Rebekah had completed the ritual before Taako had managed to destroy the book.

Rebekah turns toward the table, and Taako is horrified to see his body twitching and moving.  “...Alfonso?  Alfonso, love, is that you?” she asks.

“What...what's happening?  I'm...chained to the table?” not-Taako says.

“Please, be calm.  I had to make sure the ritual worked before I let you free,” she replies, stroking his hair gently.  There are tears on her cheeks, but she's smiling.  “Are you all right?  How do you feel?”

Taako understands what is happening, finally.  She has taken his soul out of his body and used his body to house the soul of her dearly departed husband.  And he can't do a fucking thing about it, but to watch.  Just casting those mage hands has all but depleted his magical energy, and he couldn't be sure the staff would just fire on its own again.  It doesn't do that very often.

He is aware then, dimly, of another presence in the room.  It's not something he can see as much as he can feel.  It's odd -- he can't feel anything touching him, but it's a different sort of feeling.  And maybe it's because he's just a soul and, in a way, he is sort of dead (or undead?), he can sort of put a shape to the feeling.  It's like seeing, but it's not actual sight.

He is aware of a pair of skeletal hands just before they carefully wrap around him and lift him from his perch on the desk.  He senses the brush of red fabric from the sleeves of the mysterious intruder's robe.  He knows who this is.  He wants to cry.

Lup?  Lup, is that you?

It has to be Lup.  It has to! He has forgotten her for so long -- how could he forget Lup?  But she's here now!  She has saved him!