Back in the chamber, Asrael sat ponderously on the bed and looked down unto a printed page that described the makings of printing-presses- ignoring the movement in his left, peripheral view. His naked feet were warm on the black, humming bricks. In the red light of the crystalline torch at his bedside, he found his skin tone slightly less appalling than usually. Seeing his own skin, he thought back to the vision of the mirror and again remembered how half his lip had been absent- baring the bare jaw beneath his flesh.

He had known that his immortality had come at a cost. In fact, he continued to be confounded by how some of his functions remained intact, altogether. In his foolishness, he had seemingly taken his continued existence for granted, especially if he was to find himself falling apart so soon...

But Thomas... Thomas had promised something different. Perhaps, with the combined use of their magic, they could both achieve true immortality- free of the pestering side-effects of death, decay and cancers. Then again, he would have to not only betray his secrets, but he would also have to work with that terrible man- at times in an inferior position to him... he shuddered at the thought of it.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout meeee?” A falsetto song scratched Asrael’s eardrums. Without looking up from his book, he muttered:

“Whyever would I do that? You never leave me-” His gaze naturally departed from the book to follow the dancing movements ahead of him. Every muscle in his body froze as he saw Neda shake her head to disperse her long, honeyed hair far down her chest- concealing the anatomy her clothing failed to.

Where she had found such a thing, Asrael could not imagine, but he was sort of glad she had. She wore a thin, see-through, red nightgown that stopped just short of her hips. The soft, furred lining over her shoulders beckoned for him to verify its softness with his touch, but even if he wished to, he could not move. The only movement his muscles would allow was a slight jerk of his neck to gaze in the direction of her crotch, where a similarly see-through set of underwear was held in place on either hip with a lazily tied, easily openable knot.

Her hips were far paler than most of her and it struck him that he had never seen this part of her anatomy. Naturally, he found it to his liking, but dismissed this as another one of her tricks. He forced his eyes shut as to not look at the jiggling, strutting breasts- saving himself the sight of what he could only assume to be a set of perfect nipples to compliment her impeccable figure.

“What in the Hells!?” He shouted. Before his closed eyes, Neda took note of him crossing his legs under his black robe. He tensed up, but before he could rise from the bed, Neda leapt atop the red, silken sheets and grabbed hold of his shoulders from behind- keeping him in place before he could stand up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her impressive bosom against his back to whisper seductively into his ear:

“C’mon, it’s been a great day so far... we could make the evening even better.” She could feel his trachea bob as he swallowed needlessly. He was as unnaturally rigid as ever as she moved her cheek next to his and let his scent fill her nostrils.

“What are you doing-” He began, but Neda silenced him by reaching for his face and stroking his chin with her right hand.

“Nuthin’. I’m just giving you a bit of my warmth, all right? C’mon, take your dress off- it's cold in here, right?” Flabbergasted by her nerve and with the complete lack of respect for his need for personal space, he ended up mouthing for words.

“It is not a dress- it is a robe, w-wha-..." With her gentle hand, she turned his head to look at her. He stared straight into her red eyes and watched her seductively bite her lower lip. He exuded the signs- the were practically written all over him. With a gentle push, she touched his nose to her neck- allowing him, in turn, to savor her fragrance.

It was a reflexive motion for him- the inhalation of her perspiration. She smelled cleanly, yet she had an unmistakably human tang to her fragrance. He felt the frizzled lining of her gown tickle his nose as she continued to lead him down unto his back- following after him as his head touched down on the pillow. She smoothly snaked her way forwards, effortlessly manipulating his left arm to rest between her breasts and the hand atop her inner thigh.

All had happened so quickly- so smoothly, that Asrael had not had the time to build up his resistances- if he even had them, anymore. By looking into his wide, glowing, green eyes, Neda assumed that most his defenses had fallen to Maribelle’s techniques.

He remained stalwart in his decision to stare into her eyes, despite his arm sinking ever deeper into the soft, fleshy embrace of her breasts. He was simply paralyzed- stumped and overloaded with the numerous sensory impressions and the thoughts invading the forefront of his mind. Neda, however, could see the obvious shift in his demeanor- the suppressed hunger in his eyes as he struggled more and more not to look at her body.

She wrapped her arms around his head and tenderly brought him closer to her chest- resting his ear atop her breasts. It was not the first time he had touched breasts- alive ones, perhaps, but not even the dead had he pressed his face against. The soft flesh was warm- craving his touch as he craved them. It had all been so sudden and for reasons unknown to him, he found himself reluctant to resist her insistence for once.

Smiling, she stroked his hair and sniffed his scalp. “It’s so nice and warm here, right? Beats being out on the road...” Had he been capable of it, he might’ve nodded in agreement.

“Neda...” He began, with a surprising patience in his voice. But Neda would not hear it- she had tired of this resistance. He needed to be roped in before that seed of doubt could sprout into something more defined. She put his hand atop her hip and slowly turned around. His face loosened from her cleavage and instead, he faced her back as she squirmed her posterior up against the rigid protrusion deforming his black robes. They lay on their sides- him staring into the back of her honeyed hair as she inched him closer to maximize the touching surfaces between them.

Her fingers intertwined with his as she moved the two hands to her flat stomach to rest atop her navel. As tenderly as she could, she turned her head to say: “Assie... d’you think I’m stupid?” Asrael gritted his teeth, but kept his arm limply atop her stomach.

“This all but proves it. I have told you-” Surprisingly, she giggled. A grin split her red cheeks as she shook her head gently.

“It’s not stupid to have a bit of fun, Assie... I mean, we’re having fun, right?” He was having fun. He could feel her heart shake the bed- not that he could blame her. He imagined that if he had had a functional heartbeat of his own, it would be just as powerful and rapid as hers was. He nearly startled as she began to move her hand back up to her hip and shifted again to bury the protrusion between her cheeks. He felt something soft against his palm as Neda retracted her fingers from his and abandoned his hand there- clutching the knot keeping the thin, red patch of cloth in place before her groin.

“P-… please... just this once. It doesn’t have to mean anything. We’ll just have fun, all right?” Asrael felt the world still around them. The low, constant rumble of the castle ceased- even Neda’s strong heartbeat ceased to exist in his consciousness. For so long, he had resisted her every move and approach, but as he lay there- surrounded by her hair, skin and drawing in more and more of her seductive fragrance, a question burned at the back of his mind... why? She was beautiful- far more beautiful than anyone he had ever met when he still lived. She was attentive, caring, the right kind of insane and so why... should he not?

Neda’s chest raced with anticipation. Any second, Asrael might rise from the bed and yell at her, or he could accept the gesture. Her heart leapt with joy as she felt a slight tug, followed by the loosening of the patch of cloth shrouding her crotch.

The chamber’s warm air rushed past her most intimate areas as she grabbed hold of his hand again. Curiously, the member seemed slightly less hesitant as he followed her motions down to the slight fuzz of her anterior pelvis. She raised her right leg and pressed his hand against her mons- allowing him to feel the softness of her loins, grazing her genitalia. Her breath had been warm, but nothing could have prepared him for the warmth radiating from between her legs. They lay there in silence as she guided his hand further onwards- towards the warm, welcoming organ.

Her racing chest was void of all hesitation. A moment longer and she would be eternally his. All she needed was drive the point home. She turned her head up to her side and giggled playfully with a deep, warm hum of a laugh and said: “Asrael... I lo-”

In the next blink of an eye, several events of import took place. First, the door slammed open with enough force to shatter the solid bricks. Next, a small round man clad in a blood-soaked suit, drenched with tears and blood bawled his way into their lovechamber, shortly followed by a smugly satisfied, bare-chested Kester whose calm inspired infuriation in all his companions. Aside from the tavernkeeper, not a one of the others were anywhere close to relaxed.

Asrael’s hand darted back to his side- he sat up so swiftly that Neda found herself doubting their tender moment had ever taken place. She was left disbelieving, staring down at the crotch that had hosted his cold hand a moment previous, whereas the necromancer uncomfortably rose to stare at the small, round man weeping on the floor.

“Is bad, boss! D-d-dey b-bled all o-over me!” Kester noted how the necromancer’s eyes were wider than ever and he seemed disturbingly taken aback by something. His green eyes darted between the half-naked tavernkeeper and the distraught chaufeur on the floor.

“W-what!?” Was all Asrael could shout. The sobbing wretch on the floor choked on his tears, leaving Kester to speak in his place. The tavernkeeper shrugged, shook his head and explained: “These guys are fucked up too. They keep some purged chained up in the basement. Cut their tongues off and poked their eyes out by the looks of it. Stark-raving mad- all of them.” Kester had noticed the pronounced bulge on Asrael’s robe, but did his best to ignore it.

The necromancer furrowed his brow and considered the words with hurried glances about the room. Whatever they had interrupted, Kester imagined Neda would be far from pleased to have had her stolen moment cut short.

Asrael stammered: “And? A-as u-unexpected as t-that is...” He swallowed and tidied his black robes- hunching over to conceal the protrusion of his groin. After a moment’s thought, he looked up to meet Kester’s raised brow with one of his own. The seductress’ claws were slowly receding from the forefront of his mind- allowing a breath of his common sense to wash through consciousness. Naturally, he remained bothered by his seduction and subsequent failure to bed his attractive companion, but Kester had just spoken of a sweeter prize. If Thomas had truly fallen to the same depravity that had infected the rest of this decaying world, then Asrael could finally claim to be morally superior to the man, as well.

Kester felt uncomfortable beneath Asrael’s intent gaze, shifting from leg-to-leg as the Necromancer grinned and spoke: “Take me there.” He commanded and rose to his height- seemingly uncaring for his erection. Neda grabbed the two strings and reaffixed her underwear as she rose from the bed, stepped around the weeping man on the floor and demanded: “B-But, Assie! W-we were kinda in the middle of something, here!”

Kester found it bemusing how nervous the necromancer seemed as he was reminded of the sinful night she had planned for him. Gritting his teeth, Asrael shook his head. “N-No. We are quite done with that.”

Neda groaned and stepped over to the red, see-through robe by the dresser and muttered: “For fuck’s sake, stupid... asshole... Fine! I’ll come with you, but as soon as we’re-” He stepped out into the hallway before she could finish her series of mutters and shouted over his shoulder.

“No! Go awaken Eleanor from her slumber! Ready the horses- we may soon find ourselves in a hurry to depart!” Asrael’s pale hand appeared from the dark hallway to grab Kester by the shoulder and drag him away from the sinful chamber- leaving the blue-balled Blightlander wide-eyed, struggling to understand...

“What the fuck just happened...” Her jaw dropped. Barrel lay on the floor, still sobbing loudly while attempting to wipe his face off on the sheets- the only victim Neda could find to unleash her wrath upon.