Terror From the Deep - Chapter Three
the next chapter in my forthcoming novel
CONTENT WARNING: ALL OF IT. HORROR AF.
Terror From the Deep
by Daphne Garrido
Three
Finally — they were taking their chance to get out and do something fun.
Cora had Ruth by the hand, dragging her through the crowd of Ameroth’s night-district, a sight to behold through rain-streaked reflections, its aura painted by sheening hues of neon rainbow, an armada of dancing spotlights pounding the sky.
This is what it felt like to be alive.
As they’d prowled the streets and found a Leothean frying skewers of brined fowl, they’d chosen well to make a stop. Cora was watching Ruth dance at their streetside high-top, uncaring of the people surrounding, swaying with the rhythms emanating from Ameroth’s famed amphitheater; a musician’s manifest heaven, its backdrop carved from the largest known seer’s stone in existence, left preserved in central-square, seemingly always at use.
It had been a dream of Ruth’s to sing there one day.
These two long hoped to spend at least some of their lives here, theorizing schemes to become part of its thriving district of arts and entertainment, yet never truly believing it might be in the cards for them.
There’d been a time spent here in the past for Cora, a blur to her now if she’d think back. It was a time of both profound joys, ecstatic moments of pleasure, and the deepest horrors imaginable. This place had stolen something from her. Coming back with Ruth to take on the town, might’ve been the most healing notion she could think of, but they were only here for tonight; their last night on Crogen.
They were skipping out entirely, leaving the planet altogether, there would never be another chance for either of these women to see this night’s sky, washed-out in its gloriously absurd pollution of ecstatic light.
Cora long sought space to roam, peace in her mind, and some quiet for her heart. She’d finally convinced Ruth to take her side in what would be the adventure of their lifetimes; an opportunity to build something new, escaping the grasp of this planet so far beyond its previously held occupation limits. They were to become settlers of the stars, creators of a new society, planting seeds for the future.
Crogen’s oft spoken-of population boom, surging past limits over the past forty central cycles, had evolved far too quickly for The Periphery to react with proper measures, an organic evolution both unplanned and unpredicted.
Ruth was glowing after she’d been led into the nightclub; The Weary Sailor, taken to a darkened booth in the back corner. She was wined, dined, and then kissed quite forcefully by Ms. Cora Tavishaw.
They weren’t like anyone she’d been with before.
Cora had been the first lover who’d ever truly made Ruth feel safe, witnessed, and appreciated as the badass she was; a warrior of hope, fearless truthsayer, and a unique embodiment of the Goddess in human form.
It brought Ruth home into her body just to be in their presence. Something about the way she’d catch them looking at her, that feeling of their arm slipping around her waist, how they’d manage to kiss her with such force at moments she’d least expect, and take what they wanted sexually. They commanded authority by their nature and it would leave the woman quite weak in the knees.
Over the years, Ruth had sought for romance which would sate those deepest needs she’d cultivated in her sorrow, such time spent as a lonely child in longing. She’d only found a few who’d brought her close, but no one else made her feel like this.
Ruth was fierce, outspoken, more able to learn and grow then just about anyone. She scared people — they were intimidated by her boldest grace and passionate ways of living — the breadth of character she embodied with pride.
It had taken one hell of beast to be her man, that one who’d see her to those distant horizon’s of heart she’d wish to feel, but only because Ruth was such a powerful being herself. After adolescence spent in romantic foolishness, having finally come of age, she’d found herself never bending to the ignorance of another, and that took just about everyone off the table. Certainly, most of those who’d lit such fires in her heart by the way they’d wield their power.
Her character traits of tenacious communication and fearlessness in honest expression, especially in face of her great holdings of trauma, were nothing if not uniquely audacious. Still, she’d wanted to be tamed; possessed by one of even stronger will, who’d not constrain her in bondage, but set her free in their grasp. It was that one thing she’d always wanted most, and the hardest thing to find in a civilization of those so trained to mute themselves, on a world which made people meek and naive. Especially, considering she didn’t want a man at all.
Ruth had sought for some dark Goddess in truest form; a natural born leader who’s fire matched their grace, an independent spirit with willpower outshining her own, an inspiration, who’d wield wisdom to cast truth and reflection onto those parts of her which needed it, never to dim her glow, gifting chance for submission in trust she’d be protected; uplifted.
To be kept close, made whole, utilized for all her many talents, and allowed to love with her whole heart; this what Cora had done to take the crown of Ruth’s heart, to rest upon that darkened throne, gifting a final release from the long line of liars and cowards she’d unduly held in her heart for so long.
They’d only ever been pale reflections of her one to come.
This booth at the back of The Weary Sailor was a sea of energetic comfort they’d been swimming in. Diving deep, Cora had led far beyond Ruth’s commonly enforced two-drink limit, and their hands were all over each other. Cora was gripping her hair a bit tighter than one might expect for a relationship built on loving commitment. Ruth’s deference to what her lover might want would be viewed as toxic by some, yet, she would follow this badass anywhere. People could be wrong about it all they wanted.
She’d do anything for Cora. All she wanted was to gift them chances to feel back those most beautiful notions they bore into her spirit through their presence in her life.
A gift Ruth’s love would always be, for both herself and Cora, a person who’d long found the notion illusive, surrounded by people who’s care was highly conditional. To receive such judgement free acceptance would be her own life’s greatest blessing. It would set her free to be honored wholly for her many virtues. The fact Ruth — a woman who’s healing touch and radical honesty could sometimes feel unmatched, lusted over by many — had chosen her alone was an honor; a badge of pride she’d wear proudly.
Thunderous low-end synthetics were vibrating through the upholstered cushions of their booth. Even in that private corner, without another soul nearby, occluded from both the crowds and those many wall-mounted loudspeakers throughout this cave of human excess, Ruth could barely hear a word Cora said.
It wouldn’t matter. Her eyes told the tale. The energy Ruth felt from her hands would paint the picture, and that magic they’d be making shortly in the bedroom would show the math quite proven; these two were made for each other.
Cora rounded the corner with drinks she’d prepared, Ruth waiting on the bed in black laced lingerie, splayed in that perfect way to highlight the curves of her elegant form most abundantly. Glasses clinked, the whole trey wobbling in hand as Cora saw her. No words were needed, it was in the eyes; these two often able to find modes of communication beyond the spoken word.
They’d not need the drinks. They never would.
The first time Ruth made Cora come she’d lost her fucking mind, pushing her away like she was some witch — having told her repeatedly beforehand that she’d not be able to get them there — finding they’d peaked harder and in more comfort of safety than they ever felt before. It was the way Ruth took Cora’s lead, always, even as she’d execute her own most incisive workings, which left Cora feeling a sense of control she’d always needed to thrive in the bedroom.
She’d said right after, “Never do that again. Do that everyday. I don’t know.”
Cora had known — she knew damn well.
Ruth’s night gown had been before unseen to her lover’s eyes, gripping her body in all the right places, highlighting those bits of form which stoked their inner-flame. She’d risen to her knees beside them, so eager as always, pushing for what she wanted brazenly before Cora had even set down the tray.
Their tattooed, tightly muscled arm shot out, finding Ruth’s throat before she’d been able to pull them in for a kiss, holding her back at a distance.
Just right, their grip — always — never too hard, never too soft.
Ruth went blank. The way she’d look at Cora in times like these was not something they’d ever be able to explain back to her. Frozen, entirely bare, exactly as she was and nothing more; Ruth would give herself fully, in any way they wanted, her heart open and mind still.
A supernatural sense of erotic power surged through Cora when she’d control Ruth this way. Feeling how limp she’d go to their touch, witnessing that pleading look in her eyes as they took her, hearing those little sounds escape from between her lips; nothing felt more right than owning her this way.
Tempestuous was the mood after this perfect night of bliss — before unmade, were their passions so stoked beyond the pale.
This last fuck on Crogen was going to be epic.
