#nictanova | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scribbles-dream · 6 months

Text

Eldar fic for @nictanova’s Lhamean OC is finished! Enjoy!

Chalice of Transfiguration

Kellis watched from the window as the ship docked. The other Consorts were pressed to the stained glass, trying to make out glimpses of the new arrivals. The air hummed with unnatural energies as the Warp-sensitive among the group grew excited. Mistress Yvara had sealed the Webway Gate leading to their small slice of paradise for today, stating something about important cargo. Their tiny scrap of paradise in the pocket dimension was suspended on an artificial isle in between dimensions, covered with verdant land and Yvara’s brothel, set firmly away from the prying eyes of Commagorah, the Dark City.

Turning away, Kellis nimbly made their way across the large loft, taking a painted lift through the main hall, past the library, and to Yvara’s lavish quarters. There was a strange sensation in the air today, and Kellis wanted to be somewhere warmer than their translucent silks allowed. Yvara, wearing a tight dress and silvery corset, warmly welcomed Kellis inside, shooing away the other boys, all dressed the same as Kellis. Her gentle voice was the same as always, but she seemed.. unfocused. “Oh, my darling. I was waiting for you. Did you see the visitors?”

Yvara, despite her Drukhari upbringing, had attempted to be just a slight bit better than the sadistic raiders of her family. To that end, she took Kellis from a household slave to her darling. In a curious bout of contradiction for a Lhamaean brothel-keeper, she refused to let nearly anyone else be with Kellis, except herself and Irina. They didn’t mind. As long as the other consorts were treated well. Yvara swiftly lifted Kellis, wrapping them in a tight embrace. She slowly began to fix their messy, tangled hair.

“Yes, Mistress. I did,” A tinge of hopefulness filled Kellis as they remembered the last time visitors had arrived. “Will we be working today?” Yvara laughed, a hearty, sensual sound with smooth undertones. She gave Kellis a slight nibble on their round ears, and turned back to their long hair.

“Oh, my sweet. We are not getting new customers today. An old friend of mine is stopping by. Do you remember Queen Nymea? She took Aelin as a favor from me. She’s procured more of the Soul-Weaver, and I am going to have it.” These words were spoken forcibly, but not unkindly. Yvara leaned away, pulling out a bottle of product that gave off a wonderful smell Kellis had no Human name for. It created a feeling of great sleepiness and warmth in their body, causing a heaviness behind the eyes.

Yvara leaned closer, drawing her hands along their slender body. Her voice dropped to nary a whisper, emantating and vanishing just as fast in the curtain-clothed, carpeted room. Kellis could almost see the colors such words could make, all deep, passionate reds and purples. “You are finally going to be free of your Humanity.”

The words resonated in their mind, lingering further than they should have. Kellis jolted awake, a sensation in their mind which could be only described as hope. Oh, what joy! What a concept as laden with beautiful metaphors as change! They could not count the years they had been waiting, so long, to finally be perfect. To be Aeldari was the highest pinnacle of existence, to be free of want and worry of mortality and doubt. And now—It was happening! They would finally be in their proper body.

Kellis twisted rapidly, catching Yvara in a deep kiss, lingering there for a long while. The vapors and mists in the room hung for a moment, then dissipated, clouds being broken by light in a sunless realm. No words were exchanged. None needed to be.

The guests were welcomed in the usual way, through silent ritualism and subtle pomp. Incense was sprinkled to Ynnead and Isha, and the guests were made to line up in the foyer, clad with Eldar, Human, and Xenos furniture of all sorts. Beyond the ornate windows of the foyer, marked with a marble line, were tables, chairs, casual furniture, and the omnipotent bar, aloft on anti-grav units. Yvara put her arm around Kellis, as did Irina, Yvara’ other favorite (They both claimed ownership of Kellis.)

Each Corsair was unique, and Kellis counted twenty in total. Eldar, Human, T’au, Kroot, Votann, and some Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus. Yvara and Nymea greeted each other as old friends do, ceremonial facades vanishing like the sun during a storm, Nymea crossing the literal and metaphorical line to enter Yvara’s home and confide in. A simple hug broke any form of budding unease, and the guests made themselves at home. Yvara and Irina sent Kellis away with a gentle kiss each, indicating this was the business of queens and mistresses. Kellis didn’t mind. Besides, it had been a long while since they hadn’t been absorbed in paperwork and boredom.

There was one Human that caught Kellis’ eye, and they recalled Yvara asking them to keep a close watch. A tall, grizzled man, with none of the features of a Half-Eldar.. or half-anything, for that matter. A scratched sigil marking the man as one of the Imperium’s Holy Inquisitors was visible on his breastplate, and he was talking amicably to a muscular Votann woman holding Ash and Milia in each arm, the two looking with bashful gazes to her taut muscles and long red hair.

The Inquisitor had a stiff white beard and a cybernetic hand made of floating chunks of metal. Swiftly, Kellis fetched a few drinks from Otto, their jovial barkeeper of two-hundred Kroot years, pointing out the Inquisitor silently. Otto nodded, his expression becoming unreadable, and silently sent Kellis on their way with a tap of his claw.

Turning to greet Kellis with a simple wave, the Inquisitor smiled wanly at their approach. The Votann woman shooed away the needy consorts with a grin, and the two graciously accepted the pre-offered T’au h’uila, a mild sweet juice with layered flavors. “So, an Inquisitor. What brings you out here?” Kellis had the most unusual feeling that their flirty seduction wouldn’t work on this man—although they didn’t know why.

His smile broadened, and the grizzled man took off his rosette with a click, revealing the sigil of Craftworld Illian. His voice was gravely, with a deep bass that rumbled in his throat. “I’ve found that Humans make for more pleasant company when they’re not spurred by zealotry or bigotry.” He took a sip of the juice, nodding at the taste. “What about you? Yvara’s pet must have eyes and ears everywhere.”

I will not let my mistrust of them change my words. Kellis had guessed that the man already knew everything about why they had sauntered to the table in that instant. “Only fair, I suppose. I have eyes only for two, sadly.” At this, all chuckled.

The Inquisitor held out a hand to address the Votann. “This is my friend Jalia Obrung. She hails from the Myr Consortium. I’m Janis My’rhea.” The Votann quickly interjected with a bright and joyful smile. Her accent bled in more and more as she switched from High and Low Gothic. “What’s your name, lovely?” Kellis involuntarily laughed at the quick and easy attempt at flirting.

This is.. easy. “Kellis Windwalker.” They spoke clearly, without a hint of hesitation. The Votann and Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed in that sort of friendly fascination one only gets when conspiring with the closest of friends. Jalia drew in closer, and Kellis noted that the woman’s hand could easily envelop their wrist.

“You haven’t taken Lady Yvara or Lady Irina’s family names?” The Inquisitor was not making any attempt at mockery, Kellis noted. He was truly genuine—although that made perfect sense, given his family name was Illiani, and only gained through hard work and accomplishment.

“Not yet. They argue about it often.” Kellis felt themselves sinking into a sense of ease. This man was a friend. Not every Human is bad. I need to remember that. Jalia left the table, ostensibly to hunt for Ash (Who was making attempts to signal Kellis for some form of assistance in her flirtatious efforts, but to no avail), and Janis struck up a conversation on how different Yvara’s brothel was from all the other Aeldari establishments he had frequented, and that the energy was.. calmer. You can read my mind, can’t you?

Janis’ voice came through, hard-edged and eager. This was a puzzle, discerning thoughts and emotions through telepathy. He loved it. For an accomplished Wayseeker as yourself, you’re not the best at thought-crime.

Humans always think in punishment and the skills to dole it out or escape it. What happened to you? Kellis decided to not beat around the bush, cutting to a quick and sharp query that would lay bare this Human’s intentions. Inquisitors brought to mind fire and torture. This was an easy question, which could be backed up if the Human thought worse of them.

I saw through the lies of the Imperium. They abandoned me at Damocles. After working with the T’au, I saved a Farseer on my travels. Janis’ hard edge shifted, creating a gentle wave that suggested an easy, amicable nature. He was good at this, Kellis admitted. His reasoning was sound.

Kellis had a sharp edge of their own. So, a traitor to the Imperium. Is that it? You joined to help our cause?

Yes. There. Kellis knew Janis was genuine. Their imprint in the Warp was calm. No treachery here.

They smiled broadly, and motioned for Otto to send the fine fellow more drinks on the grav-waiter. The two talked more and more, sometimes about larger topics, sometimes smaller. Janis was intruiged at how this brothel operated without torture, and he was unsure how their drug assisted in that. He hadn’t taken well to the drug used to make Half-Eldar.. It suppressed the hunger, and, as Yvara had discovered, happy emotions were much stronger-tasting than agony.

They learned much from each other. Janis’ Eldar wife was living on Craftworld Illian as a diplomat, and he was well within his three hundredth year of age, being kept alive through rejuvenates and Eldar science. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that the majority of the consorts here were rescued slaves, and even more so to learn of their skills in subterfuge and espionage that Yvara had given them. It was what broken souls needed most. Hope, and a reason to live.

Yvara called Kellis over. Her voice was stiff. As the consorts and waiters continued to talk and flirt, their eyes were all focused on Kellis. The right hand of Yvara going anywhere spelled great importance for their tiny home. Otto simply gave a T’au salute before sending the lift upwards to Yvara’s quarters, shutting the ornate door behind them.

III

Yvara and Nymea were lounging on the silken sofas and cushions around the small room, with Nymea’s servant Aerin giving Kellis a slight nod. On the small wooden table between the furnishings was a metal box filled with glowing green vials. Although both parties were smiling cordially, Kellis could sense the tension in the room. It hovered in the vapor-filled air, twisting in the colored fog like a great dragon, hungering for the next word spoken.

Nymea spoke first, putting a long arm around Aerin. Her voice was smoky, with a smooth layer that came from her throat. “We were just speaking about you, little darling.” Yvara nodded, and took a stiff sip from her glass of wine.

“Have you reconsidered?” Nymea spoke casually, but there was an air of nervousness behind it, some tremulous quality that shuddered from her scarlet lips like a dying snake. “The raw form of this substance is painful to the extreme.”

Kellis knew. There were many with scars, and many more who hid them under silk and veil. They nodded, anticipation building in their throat—but it was lesser now than before, and they felt a sudden coldness in their body. “I understand.”

Their flesh was, in that moment, revolting. It screamed to be shed, to be transformed and changed. Their ears were pounding violently, heart pumping blood at a maddening rate. Somewhere below, an ancient Human viola had been taken up. Yvara put a hand on Kellis’ cheek, the warmth snapping them out of their anxious reverie.

Her eyes lacerated their soul, and Kellis remembered the first time they had stared into those vivid scarlet forms. A long chain had been handed to her, and she had immediately removed it. Blood had continually gushed from dripping cuts, with bruises all over their body—but she hadn’t been disgusted in the slightest. Yvara lowered her tone to a whisper. “You don’t have to do this. I will love you all the same.”

A voice spoke to them. They could see that perfect form in their mind, ageless, androgynous, beautiful—a shining exemplar to what they should strive for—and Kellis nodded. Yvara opened the door leading to the lift, and motioned for all to stop and listen.

Dozens of voices were singing. It was not anything with true “words,” but intones and gentle humming, accented by the various ramshackle instruments brought by the pirates. Yvara looked to Kellis again. “You know this, don’t you?”

“The Rest of Eldanesh.” Kellis noted softly. It could be interpreted as a mourning song, a song of regret, or hope. But hope for who? It was never specified. Perhaps, at that moment, it didn’t need interpretation.

Yvara motioned in their peripheral vision for Aerin to lift the box, and travel downwards. Kellis and Nymea followed close behind. The gentle humming, accented with sharp violins and a plucky harpsichord, grew to a crescendo. A line parted as people gave blessings, praise, and shouts of joy to the tiny procession. At the back of the brothel, a large rounded door opened with a pressurized hiss, steam filling the air.

Stairs led downwards, into the dark. Into that crucible of new life called Transfiguration. Kellis’ heart pulled them onwards, and their body walked its final steps into oblivion, soon to be cut free of all inadequacies through that knife called science.

No words were exchanged. None needed to be.

Kellis stepped into the smooth glass pod, laying at an angle on the padded chair within. Their clothes were removed, and they felt another wave of nausea looking at their Human features. The couldn’t stop now, so Kellis chose instead to look upwards at the ring of eyes looking at them. Aerin placed vials of the green liquid into sockets on the outside of the pod, and Nymea extracted a spiritstone, crowning the port at the top of the pod’s lid.

Yvara leaned down, whispering a prayer that Kellis could not fully hear. She gave them one last kiss, holding their face in her hands for a simple moment. She retracted, and nodded to Nymea, who put commands into a console. Aerin walked away, averting their eyes in respect. Nymea stiffly walked out. Yvara stayed, sitting on a small chair and looking at a hanging light.

Whispering filled the pod, a cacophony of voices from the Soul-Mutator. This was the first step. Arms with syringes on each end pricked Kellis in the neck, arms, and hips. A needle plunged into the back of their spine to measure and disperse errant Warp energies. A sort of numb stillness came over Kellis, their breathing slowed and shaky.

There was silence for a moment. Then, pain. A fire wracked their body, and as they strained to look down, Kellis saw their flesh bubble and twist, bones snapping limply. There was a terrible pain inside their chest, a growing heat that felt like it would explode violently.

The whispering inside the pod grew to a terrible cacophony. Spectral figures grew around them, staring with baleful white eyes. Drink deep. Give your soul to us! Give it! Kellis screamed, and a slurry of black blood and viscera came out of their mouth. A rib snapped, the sound feeling like a gunshot to their popped and warped ears. Then, another. And another.

Finally, their ears felt warm, as if mush. Dark spots grew at the corners of their eyes, and Kellis felt a strange surge, their emotions running amok at speeds they could not control. They took a breath—a mistake—and sobbed at the insane amount of sensations, tempered down by the sterile environs but still present. Their eyes burned and wept blood, and when Kellis re-opened them for a split second, they could make out the individual fingerprints on the glass, down to the tiniest scratch—Aromas from cleaning fluid to hydraulics invaded their nostrils, and their head pounded and slammed against the glass in an insane attempt to stop the pulsating, scratching feeling inside them.

Purple lights surged around their field of vision, a blue haze filling the pod. The Warp was all around them, and the currents swirled and twisted violently. That terrible veil! How it had become so thin in just a moment! They could, for just a moment, see to the other side, shining cities of bone and light, utopia made manifest—then it fell away, a green tide of fluid rising to encapsulate the pod in its transformative waves.

Kellis tried to scream. Instead, they drank deeply, and descended into a lightless place.

A strangling presence was on their lower body, covering it with a soft feeling that caused them to spasm and twist. Eyes muddied with sleep opened to a small room, light filtering in from a large window. The figure lifted up the clammy bedsheet, noticing how slender their hands had become.

A woman was sitting on a rocking-chair next to the bed. She put a gentle hand on their shoulder. They looked at her deep red eyes, speaking from narrow lips and a perfectly smooth voice. “I know you.”

The woman smiled brightly, her warmth filling the room. “You do know me. What is your name?”

The figure looked down at their new body, free of scars and androgynous. It filled them with joy, although why, they could not tell. “I do not recall it. I shed it when I drank.” They looked back up at the woman. “You are Yvara. My Mistress.”

Yvara nodded. “Your name is gone, my love. You must pick a new one. What shall I call you?”

The figure thought about this for a few scant minutes, which felt like an eternity in that still room. Grasses swayed under an artificial sun, and the blue walls of the Webway lay beyond.

They took a breath. Then, another. The air felt clean and pure, unsullied by lesser lungs. Lips formed together—then stopped. No words needed to be said. Their mind opened fully to hers, basking in that protective warmth, the concept of affection laid bare at a sparkling light in the void.

Celen.

“Pure flesh.” Perfect, my darling. Shall we go?

Yes.

End.

#warhammmer #fic request #40k #warhammer 40k #eldar #Craftworld eldar #warhammer fanfic #fanfic #nonbinary #nonbinary oc #enby oc #eldar corsairs #corsair

0 notes