Fuu gives into weariness at last

With her mind wandering through stress and memory, Fuu didn’t know when sleep overtook her. When it did, it was murky and black with her dreams made only of blurred shapes in shifting shadow and the echoes of emotion. Fear, distrust, and loss gradually gave way to an unsteady warmth as around her the shadowy figures shifted to match tune. Where they had been unidentifiable fragments of form, now Fuu found herself surrounded by a churning translucent ballet.

Figures bounced and swayed, rounded shapes, sundered apart by harder ones and left broken but… allowed to mend. And once mended, they would each begin to swell with life, growing in clarity until they split anew. It was rebirth.

Now that Fuu understood what she was watching, the shapes took on a whole new meaning. Still abstract and ever changing, she now understood that she was watching them rutting. It was like a ritual. Shaded characters, both human and monstrous danced about, ravaging and being ravaged, fuckined and breeding.

The emotion echoed within her as well, swelling from a distant warm to a budding heat of sex and need. It churned within her, just as the shapes churned without, each moment more ravenous, more violent in it’s lusts as it surged to try and overwhelm with the desire to be bred.

And yet…

Fuu watched all of this, but at the same time it was as though she was watching herself as well. The molten lust in her core that demanded she join the erotic cycle of life and rebirth felt no more immediate than the figures dancing around her. Ephemeral. Blurred.

It felt like she was watching it all within the confines of a laboratory with her mind and soul safe behind the observer’s glass. She was free to take in the abstract debauchery and study it’s strange patterns without losing herself to it. As, she was almost certain, anyone else might have done.

Was it a curse then? A spell?

Was there someone back on the beach trying to mess with her head? Or with this something else. Something deeper and more disturbing. Fuu almost hesitated to ponder the possibility, but something about her clinical removal from the scene helped her push past the hesitation.

What if this was her?

What if there was no foul play or any sort of trick happening, and the lewd display she was watching was simply a reflection of her own mind? What if the protections of the Goddess who Wanders had failed her at last, and now she was seeing the first signs of all of the debauchery she had endured finally catching up to her? And now she would be doomed to see it coming and watch every second as the sacred protection faded and her very self was lost to whorish lust and endless fucking, breeding, cumming.

There was no way to close her eyes and shut out the visions, so instead, Fuu simply centered herself.

Like meditation. There was no physical way to cut out the thoughts, but that hardly mattered. They weren’t useful thoughts. It didn’t matter if they were her own.

The churning dream seemed to slow as Fuu turned to her fear, recognised it, and let it go. As simple as letting out a breath.

If she lost herself, then… so be it. That could be dealt with when the time came. Fear could become cowardice, and a coward was a poor leader.

The Bravos needed her.

Still the lurid display raged around her like a storm, but now Fuu was in it’s eye. An island of stoic peace amidst it’s fury.

Even if that peace was rigid and ****.