The Gamer Chapter 1397 – Fluffy Monday Awakens 2 – Elemental Hangouts (Patreon)

John was sitting at the inner edge of a circle of stones, on a bench cushioned by a weave of ivy and cotton. It was only the innermost layer of a structure of four rings of spaced-out boulders. Plants hung between them, serving as drapes that properly separated each layer. They were covered in pink cherry blossoms, the colour of the Spring season here in the Guild Hall. The top of each further out circle peaked up above the one preceding it, showing the red of Summer, the gold of Autumn, and the white of Winter.

At the heart of it all stood a giant flower. Its stem was thicker than all mundane trees John had ever seen, yet still green and smooth. It rose straight up, the petals opening into a gargantuan lotus-like flower. The heavy rain that had started a few minutes ago was caught by the pretty pink. At select points, the water escaped through the gaps between. Like aqueducts of stone and vegetation, the circles of the monument carried the water to various places.

One of which was a stream that Gnome used to soak a rag. The brunette wore a dress of beautiful green and pink, matching the environment. Her motions had a strange synchronicity to them, as if she was one with the sound of the rain pattering on the soft petals. She raised the soaked rag and wiped away the stone dust on her current work. It was a statue of Nathalia, sitting on a throne, looking equal parts annoyed and dismissive. Black granite, with red veins, it looked as imposing as the goddess would have wanted it to.

The season elemental’s eyes dashed over to John and she blushed when she found him studying her every motion intensely. “Y-you really don’t need to be here,” she muttered. “It can’t be that fascinating to watch me work…”

“It absolutely is.” John listened to her cute little sigh, let out while she reached for her tools. Soon she lightly tapped her hammer against the flat of her wedge. Even that little bit of power used was enough to leave little trenches in the granite. One scale after the other, perfected until John could swear the statue’s curvaceous bits would jiggle if he went there and tilted the artwork. “Why do you do this by hand?”

“There’s something… special about taking my time about this.” Gnome concentrated entirely on her work, while she responded. She tilted her head slightly, making her wavy strands fall like the strands of ivy. “It makes me carefully consider every… you know… uhm… line?” Her blush grew a little deeper. “I-I get do-overs when I slip up… so that’s nice.”

John let her chip away at it and tried to keep his presence as small as possible. He just took in the beauty of the scenery. Listened to the beat of her hammer taps, while the heavy rain faded away. The Weather Tower soon dispersed the clouds it had summoned.

Gnome put down her tools and wandered over to the stem of the flower. Placing her hand flat against it, she closed her eyes. Voicelessly, her lips moved in a distant whisper. The massive petals above shivered, loosening a final cascade of dew. Afterwards, they gradually pulled back together, until the flower was a loose bud, ready to unfold on another rainy day.

Sunlight fell onto the clearing, catching on Gnome’s form. Tenderly, she caressed the stem, before turning around. She raised her face and closed her eyes, blinded by the early day sun. She smiled, like a sunflower finally exposed to nourishing rays after a long time in the dark. That adorable, roundish face of hers showed the little wrinkles of a wide grin.

Just like she was struck by the sun, he was struck by her. John remained right where he was. Any impulse to kiss or hug her was subsumed by the instinct that he was witnessing something so fleeting that he should not disturb it. His heart beat slowed in his chest. Did it skip a beat? He was too enticed to notice.

Gnome opened her eyes, blinked back to the moment. They found each other in a mutual stare. Her face was dusted red. She turned her head away in embarrassment, but her eyes ever stayed with his. The corners of her upwards curled lips trembled, torn between smiling and a shy frown.

The image was burned into John’s memory, just like the little, “Uwuwuwuwu…” she eventually produced.

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“Ehem, clearing throat audibly, EHEM!” Sylph tried to gain the attention of her chattering kin. She failed, until she clapped her hands. A small motion, that created a loud ‘BANG!’ sound, as if a gun had been shot. Immediately, all of the elementals fell silent and turned their heads to their leader.

John’s ears rang for a second, then Gamer’s Body had taken care of that. The court was held at the tip of the entirely random bridge that he had placed on behalf of Sylph during the upgrade to the Tier 5 Guild Hall. It was the bane of Beatrice whenever she looked at the map.

The eye twitching of the passive maid was worth the sheer joy John felt, sitting there at the moment. His feet dangled over the edge, a few metres above the clear water and the various air elementals that swam both on and under the surface. While the vast majority of air spirits were, expectedly, airborne, there were some that preferred a watery environment without becoming primarily water elementals. Most of them were reminiscent of serpents, either electric eels or just streaks of gas that preferred a denser surrounding. A few were humanoid, some of them even attractive.

John had little eyes for them, as he was the chosen seat of the head of this gathering. Sylph sat in his lap, his arms wrapped around her petite form like security rails. His left was hidden almost entirely by the cascade of green hair that she had so elegantly flung over it.

“Today it has come to my attention, to my most royal and bestest concubine attention, that one of you little tricksters decided to spread a cloud of fart gas over the Residential District,” Sylph addressed the crowd of flying and hovering air spirits in front of her. “And that may be hilarious, but that’s also bad! You’re here on open invitation, okay? And that open invitation gets withdrawn if you stir up too much trouble with the locals, okay? So don’t do that, okay?”

“”Oooookaaaay!”” A hundred little voices answered in unison, a symphony of resignation.

“Good girl,” John whispered in Sylph’s bunny ear, which immediately straightened up.

“Ehehehehe….” Giggling, she reached up to her face and squished her own cheeks. Swaying left to right, her relaxing ears dangled, following her momentum with some delay. “Johnny called me a good girl, everyone,” she announced dreamily.

“Yay! Our Sylph is the bestest!” “The cutest of the cute!” “Big spoon ears!” “Little spoon energy!” “Big little spoon energy!” “Greatest of tiny concubines!” Various compliments came from the crowd. Ending eventually in, “Don’t we have anything important to do?”

“Eeeehhh?” Sylph’s happy swaying turned into an annoyed head tilt. “Urgh, you’re such a bore, Doxygon – We should call you Doxyligon because you’re putting everyone to sleep. Seriously, what are you even doing?”

“Shame!” “Shame on Doxy!” “Yeah, all the shame!” The air spirits drifted away from a rust-red, spherical being that looked like someone had crossed long abandoned iron plates with a miniature zeppelin.

‘Are rust elementals just the straight men of the air spirits?’ John started to wonder. Between Doxygon and Oxygorn, he was starting to see a pattern. He also once more realized that this variance of elementals was not creative when it came to their naming sense.

“My lady Sylph…” Doxygon began.

“Nuh-uh, you know how to address me!”

“…My supreme super-duper total awesome concubine, I-“

“Nuh-uh, do at least the abridged version of my adjectives and I MIGHT let you skip the titles!” Sylph declared. Doxygon let out the weariest of sighs. “Yeah, that’s what you get for pulling me out of my good girl trance, you big old party pooper!”

“Don’t be so hard on him,” John requested. He was trying not to involve himself too much, but he had indirectly caused the situation. Enough excuse to spare the poor zeppelin today’s resignation. “Just let him speak up.”

“Hmmmmm…” Sylph tapped her chin with her index finger. “Mhhhhmaayyyybeeeeeee.” She turned her head and looked at him, desire in her amber eyes. “If you bribe me with… headpats! Many headpats!”

That was John’s pleasure. He put a hand between her long bunny ears and ruffled her hair. He was a bit rough at first, making her giggle. Then he transitioned to massaging her scalp with guided, scratching motions. “You like that?” he asked.

“More… this isn’t… nearly enough…” she whispered. It was so indecent and yet so pure, the way she nuzzled into his palm.

He brought his second hand into play, to stroke her ears along their length. The short, fluffy hair was warm and a bit tingly under the touch. John wasn’t sure if it was her electricity that made him shiver or just the softness of her fur and hair. He kissed the big spoons one after the other and kept patting her until she was nearly too gooey to continue the court session.

“Awww, John’s pats are the best. That’s why he’s my John… none of you get him! Especially not you, Maranda!” She suddenly switched right back to her… well, charitably it could be called a leader persona.

“That’s so mean!”

“Get your own stud, this one’s mine!”

“If I may proceed? Lady Undine has informed us of today’s program.”

“Ooooh, lead with that, Doxy! What has Undine planned for us today?”

“Shaved ice is served at noon in the Jungle de Des.”

“Shaved ice!” “OOOOoooh yeah, baby!” “When is noon? Is that soon?!”

And the babbling continued.

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The Water Shrine, heart of this Elemental Island as they were for each of the other ones, was surrounded by a structure of imperfect ice. The translucent walls had tears run through them. Some were bright white, others were so minute that they were only visible from the differing refractions. John stepped into this frigid structure, insulated by the enchantments on his suit.

Out of experience, he walked around the blanket of untouched snow that surrounded the deep blue pool of essence. There was no need to disrupt Fruh, the snow elemental. He was tasked with protecting the essence, on Undine’s behalf. John liked the elemental, even if he was a bit of a dullard.

Translucent as the walls may have been, layers upon layers eventually broke the light down to a light blue. John’s form reflected on the environment. The ground was slippery. The Skittersteps made him immune to that as well, thankfully. The changing maze of frozen barriers, he navigated with confidence, following his mental compass.

He found Undine. A sleeping beauty, she sat in a semi-circle of steaming water. The vapour froze on the walls of the palace, forming gorgeous ice flowers. An everlasting, blue crystal was the source of both the heat and the pool itself. It stuck out only about twenty centimetres from the surface of the deep pond. Undine had her hands and head laid on top, resting peacefully.

John nudged her spirit, to make her aware that he was there. No words were received, just a pull for him to join her. With no hesitation, he put his clothes away and stepped into the hot spring. The crisp air on his chest conflicted intensely with the warmth that enveloped his legs, then his midriff. He found his place behind Undine and embraced her. He placed his chin on her soft shoulder and closed his eyes. So close to the crystal, the steam rising from the water heated up the air enough that the difference between under and above the surface was minute. There was only warmth. Relaxing warmth.

There was a pull on his mind and he let her take control. The tide took him, pulled his consciousness out of his relaxed body. He was spread all throughout her. John, who was experienced in possessing multiple bodies, got to experience an elevated level of multi-presence.

He was with Undine, in all the places she currently visited. The body she had at the Elemental Court. The three that were swimming up and down the Hudson. One that was hearing the complaints of a fisherman. Two patrolling the rivers of the Guild Hall. One that was singing at a gathering of politicians. The many parts of herself that she had sent out, that she was using all her mental strength to coordinate and maintain. Most of them had so little power, a stray punch would have turned them into saltwater. To operate so many of herself at such range was taxing.

The feeling of worry John felt was quickly answered by a reassuring embrace. She pulled him down, away from herselves and to the core of herself. She showed him all that was inside her. The joy for his visit and the fulfilment of being of use. The scars of past mistakes, healed over with memories and admitted faults. The parts of herself that she deemed ugly, whether they were or not. All of her emotions were bare for him to see.

And he opened all he was to her in return. Their minds swirled around each other, blended together. Their thoughts became one, their senses became one, their presences became one, until they were drifted apart by their love for each other. For as much as they loved each other equally, their target was the opposite, and so they were separated by it. A separation that was wonderful for the pink, warm embrace they could give one another. Both in this mental space and the real world.

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Siena’s claw trailed up from the abdomen of the satyr. The fae quivered. ‘Is that fear or lust?’ John wondered, arms crossed. Observe identified it to be the former. ‘Good. No need to step in then.’

There was every reason to fear. A little bit of pressure and the thin red streak would turn from irritated skin to gash. Sharper than any razor, the claw sliced through curled chest hair on the way as if it wasn’t even there. Once at the collar bone, Siena turned her hand around and tapped the edge of the bone. A singular drop of blood began to make its way down.

“Will you be a good boy?” the midnight elemental whispered. The goat-horned fae visibly kept himself from trembling, afraid he would tear open his skin. Slowly, he nodded. Clicking her tongue, Siena shook her head. “Oh, no, no, no, you do not get to give me the silent treatment. Tell me what I want to hear.”

“I’ll… not leave the Midnight Forest again.”

“Good boy.” Siena giggled, her finger turning around again. The satyr sweated and tried to lean as far away from it as possible, while the digit of a knife went up his throat and eventually stopped at his chin. “Now if you misbehave again…” Siena’s silver eyes rose in intensity, the rest of her body turning darker in equal measure. “…I get to play with you.”

“I-it won’t happen again!” the satyr promised and turned to run the moment Siena’s tail released his arms. On fleet hooves, he sprinted for the river and swam to the other side as fast as a goat man could.

Siena cleaned the blood off the tip of her claw and turned to John. “You seem displeased,” she noted, her voice as sultry as it had been throughout the entire affair. Albeit the sadistic undertone had now been replaced with a gentle, caring one. “Does the way I deal with pests turn you off?”

“It’s more that I don’t like how you ooze sex-appeal in everything you do.” John looked her up and down. “All of that is mine. Imagining some people popping a boner while they get tortured by you annoys me.”

“I’m afraid that’s just my nature.” Siena sashayed over to him on her high-heeled feet. Somehow, she managed to produce a resounding staccato on the black stone of the Shadow Island. She did not stop in front of him, slinging her arms around his neck. One leg raised, she hooked it behind him. She put her entire balance onto him. Those silver eyes, surrounded by the constellations in her black sclera, shone like moons. Thin black pupils appeared in their midst, dilating as she beheld him. “There’s no need to feel threatened, my saviour.”

“I don’t feel threatened.” John brushed over her cheekbones with the back of his fingers. “I know that I will always have you. I feel possessive. I do not want to share.”

“Is defending one’s territory not a manifestation of feeling threatened?”

“I believe this is more of an outgrowth of greed,” John contemplated and sighed. “Well, I can be sure that you’re mine, so I suppose I’ll just have to accept that you’re always the alluring temptress.” He leaned in and claimed her lips in tenderness and love. Eagerly, she opened up for him, moaned happily into his mouth.

Their kiss lasted forever and yet no time at all. When they separated, Siena took him by the hand and showed him around her realm. He knew all of it already and yet none of it. Under the light of other stars, he chased her through golden willow forests and black rocky plains. She let him catch her every time, to claim her lips again and again, in the many shades the silver sparkles painted.

For all her sadism, for him she was always ready to put the claws away.

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Visiting the different Elemental Islands one after the other put John through a variety of different sensations. Last of the five was the sweltering heat of the Fire Island. John was walking up the path of black ash that lead up to the black metal fortress that rose from the lava pool. Where the cruel-looking fortification touched the molten rock, it glowed red from the intense heat.

A square of tall walls surrounded a dark grey mountain. At the corners were large towers that steadily blasted loud, shredding music. That was what officially tipped the menacing aura of the fortress from actually threatening to hilariously villainous.

John stepped through the black gate, ignoring the many fire spirits that flew through the air like tumbling sparks. Equally, he did his best not to pay attention to the many greater elementals that stood in orderly lines along the walls and the path up the mountain. Many were joining Salamander in her elaborate roleplay. She was far from the only one of her kind that enjoyed playing the part of the bad guy, even if none of the elementals permitted to enter were actually bad guys.

Atop the mountain was a keep of jagged walls, extending far up into the air. Its windows leaked fire, its tower was rimmed with spikes, and the music was blasted even more intensely here. The metal never stopped, a constant companion even after he had entered the fortress proper.

Crossing a courtyard in which two insectoid elementals of magma and stone butted heads, John ascended into an expansive throne room. Lava falls decorated the walls, the molten stone flowing through trenches along the wall and then disappearing underneath a thick slab of volcanic glass that served as the floor. The heat continued to radiate through, along with just a bit of the light.

Salamander sat on the opposite end of the fortress in a throne that was, like the rest of the fortress, overdesigned to the point of parody. Elevated from the rest of the room through ten steps of black marble, the dark metal was cushioned with blood red pillows. The backrest extended several metres up the wall, melding with the jagged design of the fortress walls. Etched into that was a black meteorite surrounded by flames – Salamander’s personal sigil. She was one of the few haremettes that had bothered to get one done.

“Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me?” the ‘evil overlady’ shouted across the room. Limbs clad in black and red plate, breasts and groin surrounded by red flames, she looked every part of a final boss in a particularly cheesy high-fantasy RPG. Her hair being a flickering fire only added to that.

“I can’t cuddle the shit out of you without coming closer,” John shouted back.

“Oh ho! Then come as close as you like.” Salamander opened up her arms.

John teleported the rest of the way. An action that failed to elicit any kind of surprise from Salamander, even as he scooped her up. That she was taller than him didn’t matter at all when he whirled her through the air. Her tail waved in an odd fashion and suddenly the universal heavy guitar was replaced with the demanding string of a violin.

Immediately, John recognized the basic melody for what it was. He put Salamander down, wrapped an arm around her, and their hands found each other. They locked and took three steps in unison to the rapid tango. Without thinking, John led the dance.

A single moment of hesitation, and the apocalypse elemental would have ripped the lead from him. They stepped. They twirled. They jumped. John bent her over until her flexible legs described a vertical line. Then he hurriedly pulled her back up and they kept on spinning and spinning, until their mouths pressed together. Sharp canines playfully bit his lower lip.

The pain made him snap back. Salamander’s armour flickered out of existence, just in time for her to grab him by his open collar. She pulled him forwards. Forehead clashed against forehead. Fire dimmed until she was down to her usual buzzcut, until her breasts squished naked against his chest. The slightly taller woman grinned at him.

“You owe me more than a visit, stud,” she whispered. “I have such a nice throne that’s been waiting to be used like your office chair.”

“Whatever my villainess demands,” John responded with a grin.