“Burning Passion: Kyrie’s fiery home!”
Kyrie Lastgear sat dumbfounded in front of her latest unfinished masterpiece for the longest time: her mind blank, her hands idle, her passion lost and her fire, unfortunately, burned out. She remembered once upon a time when the mere glimpse of a bolt could inspire her in ways that only a god could equal, but now, well…she felt empty and unfulfilled, desperate and dry, and so damnably tired. One would think that being in the company of twenty-three of the most fascinating, brilliant, colorful, and experienced women around would be enough to jump-start any creative mind— and even if that failed, there were endless resources aboard the Dauntless, and endless ways to go about reviving one’s spirits— but Kyrie was at her rope’s end, and it looked like it was becoming a noose.
“Shucks, I got nothing,” she muttered, grasping her tools and letting them fall again. Her mind was a mushy blur; she had been away from her element too long. “The only way I’ll fix this is if I see something totally mind-blowing, or I get laid. Ha…and what are the odds of that ever happening?” Kyrie wasn’t blind; she knew people were starting to “hook up”. Even Alala was warming up to Yenae— although in a bizarre case of irony, Chandra had been mysteriously quiet in regards to this issue. But no matter: the fact was that, while everyone else could “get lucky”, Kyrie was, sadly, left all alone.
And that sucked worse than everything in the universe ever made forever.
Thankfully, there was some hope for her. The only reason Kyrie had not slipped into despondency was because the ship was drawing very close to her homeworld, her beloved Vulcannis, where the fires are hot, the lava flows freely, and the legendary Lastgear clan continued to defy expectation and reason with their revolutionary devices. She was really only moping because she was impatient; soon she would be her old bouncy self again, thrashing around in a crimson excitement, hopping on people’s backs and hugging everyone in sight.
“That’s right!” she exclaimed, standing up and balling her fist. “I can’t sit around crying over spilt petroleum! I’ve got something to look forward to— and if anyone can help me snap out of this, it’s mama! Now let’s go get some accomplices, Kyrie! You’re about to get your second wind!”
Getting started was one thing. But finding people willing to go along with her…
“Forget about it!” Aseria snapped.
“Not a chance!” Allegra balked.
“Heat doesn’t agree with me,” Lyara murmured.
“How much lava?!” Yenae shrieked.
“My foot hurts really bad today,” Amy groaned.
“No thank you,” Mink murmured.
“Not even to free me from marital obligations,” Naja snorted.
“I’ll pass,” Herut waved.
“You’ll never get me down there!” Kate shuddered.
“You’re kidding, right?” Athena grumbled.
“Nay! Art thou insane?” Sharyn squealed.
“Too busy,” Eve grunted. Kyrie was especially hurt by that rejection. She fancied herself a close accomplice of Eve’s— after all, their mothers had been friends.
“But this is your big chance to see a whole clan of Lastgears in action! You can’t pass it up!”
“Sure I can,” she answered plainly. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, I’m covered in oil, and I don’t plan on getting a tenth-degree sunburn anytime soon. Why don’t you invite Rachel or Valti? I’m sure they can appreciate Vulcannis more than I will.”
“Valti’s off having more pointless sex with the twins, and Rachel’s stuck to Amy like glue.”
“Then it appears as if you’re on your own, Red. Sorry.” Kyrie pouted childishly and stormed out of the garage without saying another word. Eve hadn’t meant to be curt; work had just piled up all of a sudden. Of course, if they had been going anywhere else, she would’ve been glad to step out of the office, but…something about a world engulfed in flames just didn’t sit right with her.
……
There are so many myths and stories about Vulcannis, homeworld of the Pyrosians, that the allure is powerful enough to draw tourists and researchers alike. For the sake of clarification, a proper description is in order. First of all, it is not completely consumed by fire and smoke: a great deal of Vulcannis is farmland, due to the rich soil content. There are hundreds of volcanoes there, but not all of them regularly belch flame; a few of them stay silent, and several have retired completely. The irregular flow of lava does change the landscape fairly often, however, so families have adjusted to moving constantly; there is no such thing as “rooting” on Vulcannis, because a generations-old plantation can be instantly wiped out by lava the next day. But this destructive force is necessary: it gives the crops amazing vitality and provides limitless ores and minerals. One of the reasons the Lastgear family has prospered so much is because they have mastered the art of harvesting these materials before anyone else.
Kyrie’s small drop-ship landed on one of the firm rock beds, and as she stepped out and breathed the delicious smoking fumes, her body warming up and her energy crackling, she shivered with giddiness: she was home again. Because Vulcannis is a world that changes constantly, it’s impossible for anyone who has been away for some time to recognize the geography. To counter this, the natives are given the instinctual knowledge of where they were born and raised (approximately); they can also communicate with each other using their horns. It goes without saying that as soon as Kyrie stopped celebrating her return and got her bearings, her mother instantly knew she had come back, and where she could find her wayward daughter.
Now before one observes the family, one must first be introduced to the species as a whole. Nobody really knows where Pyrosians came from (it certainly wasn’t Vulcannis), but people generally regard them as a nuisance and scum of the universe, causing general mischief wherever they go (thus Kyrie would be no exception). The Lastgear family, on the other hand, seemed to deviate from this stereotypical behavior and turned the inquisitive nature of their race into more creative ends, as they started supplying the UCM with new types of engines for their ships, defensive mechanisms for their bases and even better ways to travel through space. This gave them quite a bit of fame (and money) but unfortunately, every family has their black sheep, and in the case of the Lastgear family, it came in the form of Kyrie (which made her very exceptional by their standards).
Kyrie had the potential to be a great scientist and inventor like her father and mother, but to their great dismay, she didn’t want to help her race or any other race in any way…she just wanted to blow stuff up! Her parents blamed everything from friends to television, but Kyrie claimed it was just her wild personality at work. Still thinking that this was some sort of phase of her young adult years, and tired that she kept blowing half their house up every day, her grievous parents kicked her out of the house and told her not to come back until she had found herself a useful job, certain that this would make her give up her arsonist’s ways and start maturing into a real inventor. Kyrie had actually made it halfway there in the meantime, but she was still a psychotic little pyromaniac, albeit a calmer and more creative one.
When Kyrshe Lastgear finally reunited with her estranged daughter, there were no hugs, no kisses, no displays of affection. Kyrshe simply stared at her wayward child for a long time, trying to see how much she had grown, if at all. Kyrie had certainly changed, and she did seem to have a knack for making things— but alas, her destructive tendencies were still very apparent, and so Kyrshe didn’t know if bringing this malicious imp into her house was worth it. She walked up to her daughter, stared her down, and shook her head.
“So what have you been up to lately? No good, from the looks of it.”
“Uh, hiya, mama! Long time no see!”
“It might not be long enough from the looks of it. So what have you been accomplishing all this time? I pray you haven’t blown up any cities or moons.”
“Oh no, no, nothing like that at all, honest! Well, I did sort of use this rocket launcher against an ancient fire daemon, but only in self-defense! See, he was about to kill this friend of mine— ”
“You mean to tell me that you have friends?!” Kyrshe scoffed. “So how much did you pay them? Or are they as wild and unruly as you?”
“Some of them are even worse!” she exclaimed.
“I find that unlikely,” Kyrshe shuddered, “but it is a rather large world out there. Well, since you came all this way, I can only assume you’ve made some progress…or else you’re just trying to bum off us again. In any case, I may as well treat you to lunch. Hop aboard and tell me what you’ve seen, my bane, and maybe then I might have better words for you.” The journey to the Lastgear homestead was long, but Kyrie still had to abridge her story in order to fit it all in. Her mother changed considerably over the course of the telling, and she even appeared impressed when it came to an end. Hearing that Kyrie had befriended the daughter of her old friend, Carly Renchina, made her sigh fondly and look at her destructive offspring in a new light.
“Carly told me she had settled down, in a manner of speaking, but I couldn’t believe it. And now I hear she has three children. Time really does change us all…so perhaps even you aren’t immune.”
“No ma’am, I’m a new Red! The reason I came back was so I could find inspiration! I’m running a little low on creative juices!”
“Inspiration?!” Kyrshe squealed. She almost stopped the buggy and hugged her daughter on the spot. “Oh Kyrie, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that! Inspiration! So you’re finally set on becoming an inventor!”
“Uh, more or less,” she mumbled. “I was hoping you and Taluna could help me out.”
“Mother certainly hasn’t slowed down,” she remarked. The Lastgear homestead, like all Pyrosian homes, was built to be evacuated in a hurry, in case of a sudden magma flood. It was originally built in the shadow of Vulcannis’s greatest destructive force, Surt’s Volcano itself, but now it had moved to the less-inspiring Musphel Mountain. Kyrie’s father had a shotgun pointed at his daughter when he first set eyes on her, but once his wife told him the great news, he threw his weapon down and embraced his daughter, smothering her with kisses.
“Inspiration!” he cried, weeping for joy. “Do you really mean it? Let me look at you! Ah, she’s telling the truth! Those are the eyes of hunger, my Kyrshe! She didn’t come back just to haunt us after all! Oh, I’m sorry for threatening you, darling, but after what you did the last time…”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry, I’ve gotten used to it by now.”
“She’s been on so many adventures, Efram,” her mother stated. “Kyrie’s grown up a lot. She has a ways to go yet, but a step is a step! I can’t wait to tell mother!”
“Better let me handle her,” Efram said, placing a grave hand on his wife’s shoulder. “The last time I saw Taluna, she was building some sort of ice-gun to freeze the lake out back. She might just test it on poor Kyrie if I don’t alert her first. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Be careful, dear,” Kyrshe said, kissing his cheek. Taluna Lastgear was a touch eccentric— Kyrshe believed this was where her daughter acquired her wild streak— but she was also regarded as one of the best, and had even worked for Demise Industries for a time. Efram returned shortly, giving the “all clear” sign, and Kyrie was finally allowed to step inside her house after years of wandering the galaxy as an exile.
……
“So, Taluna, why do you want to make an ice gun?”
“To freeze up the magma, of course! We all know that bridges aren’t worth the stones they’re made of, so why bother building them? Say, you’re not really still hung on blowing everything apart, are ya?”
“No, Taluna, I’ve changed. But I still like explosions and stuff.”
“Huh. Well, I suppose a little dynamite can be fun to play with, so long as you don’t use it to tear the place apart! Hand me those pliers!” Taluna Lastgear was hard at work as always; she was the most aggressive and, until Kyrie had been born, most dangerous member of the Lastgear family. She was basically a harmless person outside of the garage, though, and since she fancied herself a young woman still, she hated being called “grandmother” and made sure to smack anyone who crossed that line.
“What else have you all been doing since I was away?”
“I finished the earthquake machine,” Taluna pointed. She didn’t mean for it to be used destructively, but some shady members of the UCM had already tried to buy it from her, so she asked her son-in-law to beef up security.
“What’s it do?”
“I meant for it to shift the tectonic plates in our favor. We could probably help save months of time and labor, and maybe a few lives along the way, if we open up a few cracks and let the lava flow in. The damned military wanted it to be used as a weapon and offered me ten million in gold for it! But Efram showed them what he thought of their offer, didn’t you, my boy?”
“Yes, mother,” he replied humbly. He indicated a frightening-looking contraption that looked like it belonged in a torture chamber, an architecture of madness and sadism. “I call it the Intimidator. You’re better off not knowing what it can do.”
“You’re probably right,” Kyrie cringed. But even looking at this grisly machine got her juices running. An ice gun? An earthquake machine? A security device? Brilliant! Why couldn’t she ever come up with these ideas? Why had her impulses gone dry? “So what about you, mama? You’ve always been something of a genius.”
“I was only able to make ten inventions since you left us,” she sighed glumly. “Well, ten that worked, anyway. I had ideas for fifty.”
“Fifty?! Can I see them? Do you still have the schematics?”
“Uh, yes, they’re right here.” Kyrshe’s ten completed inventions were at the forefront of the blueprints: a seatbelt that automatically buckled, a watch that ran on body heat, an object that responded to the voice in order to find lost objects, and outside, her steam-powered buggy, just to name a few. But the schematics for Kyrshe’s failed experiments were the real treasure: she really outdid herself in pioneering amazing, bizarre, useful, and novel ideas. There was a device that picked up electric currents from the brain to move objects, contact lenses that let people see in the dark, a pill that temporarily took away the sense of taste (helpful when eating nutritious but disgusting food), a dream recorder, several plans for artificial limbs and organs, and an improved version of the famous Lastgear “lava harvester”. Kyrie nearly had an orgasm as she read through the pages.
“Cool, cool, cool, cool, COOL!!!! Ohmygod, look at the specs on this! Oh wow, a toilet that turns waste into fuel for the home! Awesome, check this out! Hey, this is even better than what Eve had! Ah, so that’s how that’s done! Amazing! Ohmygod, are these…plans for a synthetic Orihalcum processor? Mama, you’re a genius!”
“Oh no, dear, not really,” she laughed. “All those ideas failed or fell short. They’re just designs and drawings. Most of my successes were group efforts, anyway. Your father helped— ”
“But still!! A Lennethium-powered telescope? Telekinetic simulation? A teleporter?! This is ambitious stuff, mama!”
“She would’ve gotten more accomplished if we could get our hands on some Orihalcum,” Efram said.
“Just head on up to Surt’s Peak and grab some, you lazy boy!” Taluna called.
“And what makes you think it’s that easy?”
“Don’t talk back to me, boy! If I were just three years younger, I could climb up to the top and be back by supper!”
“Too bad we haven’t invented a time machine yet, mother,” Kyrshe chirped. Taluna glared at her daughter and resumed her work. Kyrie felt a little lost and asked what they meant.
“A few days ago, we got word that a large chunk of Orihalcum crashed on the summit of Surt’s Peak. Normally, we’d be all over it like ants at a picnic, but a recent flow of lava from Prometheus has blocked our path. I’m fairly sure it’s cooled off by now, but there’s also report of a possible aftershock from the neighboring mountains. It’s that time of year again.”
“If this damned ice gun were finished, we would’ve had it by now, too!” Taluna exclaimed. Kyrie didn’t see what the problem was, but she had always been a little reckless, not like her prudent mother or her wise father. She decided to go out and retrieve it herself.
“Are you sure? You might be swallowed whole by a magma flood.”
“Ha! Let the little devil go! It’ll give her something challenging to do!”
“Yeah, mama, let me go already! I can take your buggy and climb the rest of the way! I’m in really good shape!” Kyrshe saw there was no stopping her headstrong offspring, and while she was surprised how worried she had become, her pride was also a shock. Kyrie had brought shame to the Lastgear family for most of her life, and now she was pleased with her daughter? It was too much to handle; she barely managed to sweep together some directions for her only child before she set off on her journey.
Long before Kyrie’s grandmother was born, Surt’s Peak was an active volcano— the fiercest one on the planet, and so terrifying that the entire continent remained empty during its reign of terror. Nobody would dare set foot on the forbidden land and upset the explosive god. Time had cooled Surt’s temper and now the volcano had gone extinct, which is why its name changed. People had begun to settle in by the time Taluna Lastgear was a young lady, but they still revered the mountain.
For all its majesty and terrible power, Surt’s Peak was not a tall mountain by any standard. A casual hiker could reach the top in about two days, while a serious mountaineer would breeze through it in three hours. Kyrie packed light and drove most of the way in her mother’s steam-powered buggy, dodging embers and flecks of magma like they were ordinary hazards of the road. She got a good look at the “new” Vulcannis during her journey, and was glad to see so much of it prospering. Seeing so many farms, factories, and amateurs tinkering in their garage rejuvenated her creative libido, and she felt ready to get back to work, just as soon as she gathered this one material.
The shadows of Surt’s Peak overcame her in time; it loomed as an imposing sentinel, austere and solemn and almost sacred in its inspiring majesty. Vehicles would not get far up the narrow path to the summit, so Kyrie left her buggy at the foothills and started to walk. The trek was long, and an unfathomable silence was her only companion, but she was in good shape and the journey was not hard. The last great spurt of lava had carved an easy, winding path from the foothills to what was approximately the middle of the mountain, so Kyrie’s ascent was marked by hours atop hours of marching, taking leisurely rests when she felt like it and continuing just as quickly. She made notes about the lay of the land the higher she climbed: Vulcannis was hellish but still beautiful, not only because it was her home, but her heart as well.
Seeing her mother and grandmother in action had given Kyrie unusual energy. It made sense that she would only be rejuvenated by another fearless inventor. Neither sex nor machinery by itself had so much raw appeal for her: she needed to witness creation firsthand. Thinking about this, she formulated a simple process for creative perfection that would embody life itself. First, two beings had to copulate; therefore, sex (or inception) was vital to creation. Next came the fun part, creating and molding the offspring until it resembled what was in the creator’s mind; therefore, in a sense, artists and inventors are not unlike gods. Last of all was the end result— a thing that, on occasion, may still need some tinkering before it is complete. Chandra had it all wrong because she ignored the last two steps and focused on the first, while Eve seemed to have left sex and creation completely out of the equation. Kyrie would have to show them the True Way once she returned.
The path ended prematurely, just as she anticipated, but no Pyrosian worth his or her napalm would give up there: Kyrie simply unfolded her claws and climbed up by hand, using her wings to support her. There were very few areas where she could rest, so her arms jellied and seized up several times, even going numb from the strain. She lost a whole day recovering from the worst fits, and for awhile, Kyrie feared that somebody really would beat her to this— someone untrustworthy and greedy. …Well, greedier, anyway. When you’re all alone on an extinct volcano, surrounded by sulfuric fumes, smoke, and ash, tripped-up on a creative high and missing sex for three weeks, your brain can’t help but become affected. But Kyrie fought through the worst of it and finally moved on, hour after silent hour, until she reached the ring of dead fire at the top.
“Finally!” she groaned, plopping onto the ashen surface. After staring at the grey skies and recovering her strength, she rolled around and glanced at the surface, which seemed nearer than she would believe. “Either I’m out of shape or mother’s calculations were grossly inaccurate! That was SO FUGGIN’ HARD!” After groaning and thinking about it, Kyrie sat up and began her search. “Then again, it is Orihalcum we’re talking about here. I shouldn’t expect it to be easy.”
Since she was familiarized with Orihalcum thanks to a previous adventure, Kyrie knew what she was looking for and how she would go about retrieving it. Pure Orihalcum is a lighter-than-air mineral, so it would most likely be wedged or trapped somewhere, and would profoundly affect the magnetic spectrum. Kyrie didn’t have a compass, but she did have a handful of screws from her mother’s workshop, so she threw them in the air and watched as they flew away, directing her to her prize. She did this three times, and had one last screw to spare when she found the glowing chunk of mineral trapped underneath a rock formation.
“Eureka,” she whispered giddily, eyes shimmering with the mineral’s glow. Kyrie reached out for it with greedy claws, but jumped back as her horns sensed the presence of another person (oh yes, they were very useful appendages). She leaped just in time: a shot fired out and scored against the rocky surface. Kyrie was frightened for a moment, but she was also angry. Her fire had just been rekindled, and there was no way she would allow a competitor to douse it.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” The volcano’s summit provided little cover, so when Kyrie’s enemy made the slightest movement, she spotted them at once. “Aha! There you are! Don’t try to talk your way out of this one! That Orihalcum ore is mine!”
“Do you also lay claim to the air and water?” The sniper boldly stood up, holding her gun away as she faced her nemesis. She was wrapped in a holocaust cloak and had a bandolier of water bottles, protecting her from flame and heat both. Her skin was pearly green, like a ripe young fruit fresh out of the bud, and she had deep, cold eyes, a shocking contrast to the world around them. Kyrie had met her before when the voyage first began, but had almost completely forgotten about her: this was the shape-shifting mercenary, Changera.
“I’m Kyrie Lastgear,” she replied cautiously, “daughter of Kyrshe Lastgear, daughter of Taluna Lastgear, the 3rd. We’re a great family of inventors. I lay claim to this ore because I’m a creator. You’re Changera, right?”
“So you do remember me,” she gestured. “Are you still with Miracle’s crew, or have you struck out on your own?”
“I’m just here for some R and R,” she squeaked. “What about you?”
“Only money,” she mumbled. “Orihalcum cannot be synthetically produced, and as rare as it is, even a small amount is worth a fortune. That hunk over there ought to put my life back on track.”
“Heh, I’d share it with you if I could. Do you know anything about this metal?”
“Like I could care,” she snorted. “Look, are you going to monologue or step out of the way? I’m desperate and I need the cash.”
“Why you’re nothing but a filthy thief!” Kyrie shrieked, coiling into an attack position. She was petite, even for a Pyrosian, but quite fast and powerful. Not many could fairly hold their own against her species. “If you can’t appreciate the true value of this rock— and if you don’t even appreciate the value of creation— you’re just a burglar out for a profit!”
“Charity never puts food on the table,” she replied. “And since you chose to bore me with your bleeding heart shit, I’m presuming you won’t give up without a barbaric tantrum.”
“You’re the only barbarian here!” she hissed. Changera whipped her gun out in a flash and fired once before Kyrie pounced on her. She felt something horrible burrow into her abdomen, but this only served to increase her fury. She slashed at the gun as Changera used it as a shield, struck Changera in the belly, and struck on the shoulder with the butt. Changera scrambled to her knees and was tackled by Kyrie, but she squirmed away and kicked her in the face, thrusting her back. Kyrie scampered after the rifle, grabbed it, screamed out as Changera punched her in her wound, and thrust the weapon as far off the mountain as she could. Then, as Changera pulled a knife, she rammed her horns into her enemy, puncturing her upper chest. Changera yelled and plunged the knife down; it cut a piece of Kyrie’s ear and sliced her cheek. Kyrie slapped Changera fiercely and plowed into her as she flipped to her feet, scratching feebly as they wrestled for dominance.
Fiery nature had apparently seen enough, for an earthquake shook the land and Surt appeared to awaken from his long slumber. The ground crumbled underneath them as chunks broke off and fell far to the surface; both women were disheveled and thrown off balance. Changera thrust herself against the brittle surface and clung tight, but the quake was relentless, and carved deep fissures in the dead volcano. The land that Changera was hanging onto finally gave way, and she tumbled, slipped, and fell down to the surface. Kyrie was too busy fighting for her life to worry about her enemy, her wounds, or her prize, and she hung on tight, praying her claws (and her wings) would hold out until the end. The earth relented after awhile, and with that bit of grumpiness over, Surt went back to sleep.
“That was kind of cool,” she gasped. Kyrie gradually composed herself and grabbed the Orihalcum. The trip down was a little easier: she used the material and her wings to float back down to the surface, but when she searched for Changera, she could not find a single trace— not even a thread from her cloak or a single forgotten water bottle.
……
For the first time she could remember, Kyrie was welcomed home as a heroine. She was immediately whisked off to a hospital to treat her injuries, and while the doctors could do nothing about her ear, the cut on her cheek and the bullet in her abdomen were easily resolved (Pyrosians have excellent constitutions and are not taken down easily). This cost her a day; in the meantime, her family went to work on the ore, refining and processing it until it could be used properly. They split off a good portion of it and sold it for a bundle— not that they really needed the money— but they also gave Kyrie a piece as well, to use, sell, or simply treasure as she saw fit. When she finally got out of the hospital, her family immediately showed her their progress, but Kyrie had already found her muse: she needed no further inspiration. It was clear by now that their little pyromaniac had grown up at last.
“So you want to go back out into the world and refine your skills, is it?” Kyrshe asked her daughter. “Of course, I won’t stop you, but…well, now that you seem to have settled down a little, don’t think you’re ever unwelcome here. We’ll be sure to greet you warmly the next time you arrive.”
“Make it fast!” Taluna shouted. “I could use a hand with this fusion reactor! If this baby works, I’ll be able to harvest unlimited fuel! We’d put all those damned Lennethium factories out of business!”
“You will visit more often though, right?” Efram said.
“Of course, daddy! Hell, I might even have a lover by that point!”
“Don’t be in any rush to settle down!” Taluna screeched. “Have fun while you’re still young! Sew some wild oats and break a few hearts!”
“Perhaps eccentric behavior really does skip a generation,” Kyrshe sighed. Her family embraced her one final time, and though it was difficult leaving everything behind again, Kyrie had gotten her vitality back and couldn’t wait to use it. She felt more alive and energetic than she could ever remember: her creative and destructive impulses had teetered once again, this time towards a more positive outlet. Kyrie wanted to make something, and everything seemed to have unlimited possibilities.
All this thought about creation, libido, and productivity was giving Kyrie a strong sexual urge. She had never felt more alive or more empowered before, and the desire to expand her horizons and grow closer to the sacrosanct art of lovemaking had overpowered her. Chandra was usually the embodiment of the sex drive aboard the Dauntless, but she was practicing abstinence for some unusual reason and would not cite the reason why. Eve Kasberry was the only other person who could appreciate the need to create as much as Kyrie— at least the only other person around without a definite lover. Kyrie went to see her on the pretense of sharing some Lastgear wisdom, but meant to seduce her with her new insight.
“Good to see you back,” she waved, wiping the sweat from her face. Eve was just wrapping up another project and was covered with oil, grease, and perspiration; it really helped bring out her own latent sexual energies. To make Kyrie’s conquest even more enticing, Eve already had her shirt off and was fanning herself in a sports bra. “You took longer than I thought,” she continued. “You must’ve been pretty wrapped up in your work. I’m done for the day, so maybe we can hang out later and you can tell me your story. I actually did want to go with you, but you know…the heat.”
“Aww, it’s not so bad once you get used to it,” she purred huskily. Eve stared at the red-skinned creature and felt an unexpected rush overcome her. This was a different Kyrie than before: that journey to her homeworld had changed her. “Fire is one of the essential elements of life. It keeps us warm…invigorates the passions…gives life that extra spark…cleanses the clutter and rubble…and I really wanted to introduce you to my mom.”
“I’ll make it up to you later,” she promised. “Right now I gotta take a shower and change my clothes.”
“Um…all right.” This was an unexpected development. Kyrie had formed a plan en route to the ship, and now it was all ruined by a spur of the moment decision…or perhaps not! Eve usually showered in her room and kept her door locked, but lately she had been socializing more, and keeping her room available for anybody to come in. Maybe she wanted someone to creep in and join her! Kyrie chuckled to herself as she snuck after the “dirty girl”, startled at her own pluck. She was so small and quiet that Eve didn’t even notice her as she walked into her room, threw her dirty clothes in the laundry bin, and stepped into her shower. Kyrie hesitated for a few moments— she still had something against water— but her lusts were too powerful to cool off, and in a few moments, she had disrobed and cornered her prey right where she wanted her.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Preview of next chapter
Kate: Hey Athena, I’ve got an idea! Let’s make a haiku for the next preview!
Athena: I don’t really see the point, but…knock yourself out.
Kate: All right, here goes! “Next time on Dauntless— The meaning of Sharyn’s quest— Archaic homeworld.”
Athena: ……That really sucked.
Kate: Hey, give me some credit here! I didn’t exactly take the fine arts!
Valti: I thought it was pretty good! Judge for yourself in, “The Green Lady of New Avalon: noble goals.” So are we finally going to see some hot elf-on-knight action?
Kate: But of course! Elves and knights are destined for each other!
Fuuka: Just like Parn and Deedlit!
Athena: Really now, Fuu-chan…
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