An Elder Power

Rob would have been the first to admit he wasn't sure what to expect when he entered the basement office. Admitting that was far short of actually stepping inside and staring at an interior that looked as if it came from a different world. His boots practically sunk into a thick bed of moss while moonlight diffused through the dense canopy provided by potted plants hanging from the ceiling by vine-covered chains. Ivy crawled up the walls giving the large office the sensation of being outdoors and Rob had to peer upwards to try and make out the stonework of the roof. A single table fashioned from a large tree-stump had a bottle and two glasses resting atop it in invitation. The chairs that flanked it seemed grown from twisted saplings rather than crafted by tools.

None of that struck him as oddly as the figure gesturing for him to take the empty seat with a too-wide smile. He'd met the greater number of the peoples in the world, elves and dwarfs and orcs and men, yet the figure was impossible to place within any of their number. They had skin as pale as any elf's, but dotted with freckles. Their frame was slender but the hips were wide. The hair was a dark reddish-purple that was neither the bright colors of the elves or the more subdued tones of men. The eyes were wide and dark, flickering as if a thunderstorm raged within. The ever-present smile seemed to crack their face in two, curling up the cheeks and revealing perfect teeth that gave him the unshakable feeling he'd find them razor-sharp when they sunk into flesh.

The half-breed clenched his fists, drawn towards the figure until he slumped into the chair sullenly. "I grow very tired of things I don't understand demanding that I be part of their cult or movement or what-not." He protested. This close to them he could feel the immensity of the thing's power bearing down on him.

"Do you know what I am?" It asked, its voice at the androgynous, husky edge between male and female. It poured from the bottle into one of the glasses then the other, dark rum swirling around the interior.

He wondered vaguely if he'd been **** by the lawyer. "No idea." He rumbled irately, taking the glass in his meaty paw and examining it. The outside of the glass had been etched into a complex relief of a forest scene, deer and rabbits and wolves fleeing between trees as fire raged behind them.

They laughed, a musical sound at odds with their speaking voice. "We are old/young/timeless, reborn every other moment and dying in the ones between." It paused, watching his face and then giggling again at the confusion he showed. "You do not understand. This is good. Your kind is not meant to."

He held onto his annoyance and frustration, using it to focus against the overbearing presence. "If I'm not meant to understand then why bring me here."

They waved a hand dismissively as if warding off a petulant insect. "Time is difficult for us. We act in cycles, not moments. Generations not copulations. When more precision is needed, we arrange a trap." They seemed pleased at the analogy, settling back into the moonlit boughs of their chair.

Keeping his gaze on them, he couldn't help his eyes as they drew down the slender frame, over the heavy, full breasts and the flat, soft belly that begged with each moment to be filled. The loose coverings fell over just enough for them to avoid being called naked despite yielding the long moon-glowing expanses of skin to his eye. "I don't like feeling trapped." He grumbled, thinking of how they'd look with a brand over their womb.

Another giggle slipped from their lips as they peered over at him, squirming sensuously in the chair. "You aren't the prey, but the trap. Catch a single moment for me, mortal."