Larizu: Untitled
Night had fallen upon the small cluster of islands, darkness that had quickly given way to the birth of the stars. Tiny pinpricks of light that spread, multiplied to form constellations and then filled the spaces so that only a madman could pick out any pattern in the newly illuminated sky, took the place of the long-vanished sun. It was a cloudless night, calm and without wind. It was a beautiful night.
The islands were hardly inclement, but such calm was rare. The ocean brings wind.The peaceful atmosphere seemed to have affected the wild things of the jungle islands as well. The trill of insects and the occasional bark of the toads that hopped about in the underbrush, the sounds of the little things who owned the night were steady and all-the-more apparent, given the lack of a breeze. It was the larger creatures who seemed pensive. The absence of the jungle-cat sounds, the throaty groans of communication and the harsher cries that caused the hackles of everything non-feline that was within hearing distance to rise uncomfortably, was a welcome change.
Larizu sat on a rock near the water, watched the waves lap against the shells that rolled in the shallows. Smooth rocks between jagged ones that would someday be smooth. The troll wore a simple sarong, rolled low at his slim hips and brown with faded red stripes. His pale blue skin glowed in the starlight as he shrugged slender shoulders, sighed contentedly and adjusted the thin, wire-frame glasses that sat on the bridge of his long nose. There was no breeze to ruffle the shock of soft, dyed-red hair that stood up from his scalp.
He sat here, sometimes. The rock and this little inlet, where minnow sometimes trapped themselves as the water lowered, felt like home as much as anything else, he supposed. Of course, he had this nagging feeling that nothing really felt like home to him, but how to quantify such a thing? How could one measure the loss of something they had never lost? Stupid to think of. He turned his thoughts to more appropriate things; there had to be a way to become rich without learning some tedious trade and then slaving away at it. If he focused, he knew he'd come up with it. Larizu stared at the water. The shells didn't tumble, so much as rock and sway gently.
The chorus of insects and toads was constant as the tiny waves, and Larizu became lost in his thoughts; not so lost, however, that the short ridge of near- invisible white fur on his spine didn't rise instantly at the sudden and very out-of-place cry of a jungle cat. The sound was distant; it would have been swallowed up by the wind, had their been any.
The skinny troll's ears were laid back against his head as he scrambled from atop the rock, swallowed and turned away from the water to stare into the brush with wide eyes. More likely than not, it had come from one of the nearby, smaller islands. Jungle cats weren't big on villages, and the majority of the huts were on this particular island. Somehow, alone in the night, facing the forest and unable to see the darkened, sleeping village through the thick trees, the logical seemed inconsequential.
"Oh ya stupid bastard," the troll hissed at himself, rocking slightly from foot to foot, one hand slapped over his mouth between the bases of upward-curving tusks that were a little shorter than the average male's. "Whatcha tinkin', come out here in da middle da night?" Larizu mumbled nervously into his palm.
A beetle, long and flat with irridescent wing covers that might have been green or yellow, circled far above, unnoticed in the starlight. Fate would decide if it landed in water or back in the trees. For now, it danced in a clumsy spiral. The moon was a crescent over the distant mainland. The lack of clouds rendered the shore so bright that it could easily have been full. The trees naturally leaned, but each in different directions, without breath to bend them. The trees, the plants rested. Larizu, however, was more than unsettled.
Funny, how a single, distant sound can change one's perspective in an instant. The cacophony of humming, buzzing, hissing, and singing little things was at once a curtain that hid something more ominous. As he stood on the sand and watched the woods, his palm pressed to his lips hard enough to leave toothmarks in the back of them, Larizu had the urge to shout at the tiny island things to shut the hell up. That, of course, is what the jungle cat would want. Something may or may not have moved in the green-turned-inky blue ahead. Larizu's eyes flicked that way, straining. His pointed ears twitched at a strange, high-pitched buzz. Loa, what da hell is dat? He held his breath to listen, only to realize he'd been making the nervous sound in the back of his throat. He was too frightened to be annoyed.
Just a jungle cat, mon. No ting new. Cats and raptors be part of da islands and dey been part of dem fore ya showed up. Cat probably got a torn stuck in his toe or sometin'. No ting ta be scared of. Not a damn t- Oho shit! Shit! What da hell was dat? The troll leaned rigidly to the side, breathing shallow as he strained for the likely imagined sound. Oh but Loa if it was a raptor. He shouldn't have thought of raptors. Raptor on a fucking cat's back, with his luck. "Yeah I'm gonna piss myself," he whispered into his hand. Backing toward the rock, he slipped around it, glancing back and forth between the ground and the demon jungle all the while. The rock was hardly large enough to stay behind. He was pretty certain raptors and jungle cats could smell fear, especially when they were teaming up. Ya bless me wit a damn imagination and no muscle to fight da shit me be tinkin' up. At least the barrier would give him time to jump into the water and drown in panic. Hopefully.
Sparing as little time as he could get away with to look down and situate himself to avoid foot-wetting, the troll relieved his bladder into the sand. It wasn't much, but when you were running for your life, every ounce counted. Of course maybe being piss-stinky could work to his advantage. Larizu briefly considered rolling in the pissy sand. Dey be eatin' dem little shit-smellin' monkeys. Perhaps he should throw off his necklace, though. He reached up and felt it with the two fingers of his right hand. The little bones clinked, the sound quiet but like a siren screech in his ears. Shit! He yanked his hand away and cringed as the string of little bones and wooden beads rattled back into place.
His near-invisible spinal crest trembled, half-risen as the gangly young male crept around the rock, hands held tightly into a single fist in front of his chest. He was young, but not a child. Puberty had left him and he was plenty old enough that he could have left the home of his parents, had he lived with them to begin with. I be a man now. Come at me, ya damn jungle cats. Cocky bastard. Tink ya gonna get ya a chunk of Larizu? Trow sand in ya damn face and stick my big blue foot up ya a-
The irridescent beetle, heavy and awkward in the air, had begun its final descent as the troll slinked around the rock. Built more for short bursts of flight, the insect had worn itself to the point that its wing covers finally tucked themselves in, glinting beautifully in the light as flight gave way to plummet. The troll's weak attempt to bolster himself for the trek through the woods was rudely interrupted by the sudden flick of the heavy, exhausted beetle as it struck his shoulder, bounced off to land in the shallows and eventually sink. Larizu's resolve was certainly bolstered; surprised terror became his new driving force and he didn't look back as he let out a deep, throaty cry and sprinted for the treeline.
In the ten minutes of blind, panicked stumbling that ensued, Larizu managed to avoid the zero jungle cats that lurked in the immediate area. He did manage to startle a shrieking, shit-smelling little monkey from its sleep; this little mishap being the reason for the ten minute panic, as opposed to maybe five. When he finally realized he had outrun the zero cats present, and avoided any unlikely raptors that happened to be awake, it was fortunate timing, as he'd completely winded himself. Larizu was built for short bursts of terrified flight.
Conveniently, he had reached the clearing that marked the village and there didn't appear to be any late stirrers. Still, he peered around self-consciously. No shame in runnin', when dyin' be the alternative. He straightened his bones and beads, which had managed to turn themselves around, and stepped further into the clearing. Removing his glasses, he blew on them and wiped them on his sarong. He'd gotten a little flushed, accumulated a little fog during his run. He replaced the spectacles and ran his fingers through his slightly damp shock of hair.
Nobody awake anyhow. Grateful for this, the troll let his hands dangle at his sides as he squinted at the darkened huts. It was harder to see here, the stars partially obscured by the tall surrounding canopy. He was all turned around. There had been a lot of zigging and zagging involved. It was common sense not to run a straight line when being chased, or possibly being chased, by a predatory beast. Larizu, naturally, was innately aware of the fact. He wasn't thrilled about the fact that he was comparable to a rabbit in nature and instinct, but that didn't change the facts.
At any rate, he'd gotten turned around and entered the village from the wrong side. With a sigh, he began walking wearily and quietly around the huts. It felt good to be back, safe. He couldn't wait to be on his sleeping mat, fantasizing about spontaneously gaining priestly powers and then abusing them to incinerate jungle cats.
Something stirred in the small hut that he was passing behind. Larizu paused. There it was again, like breath being held and then released in a gasp, held again... What? Far from being frightened (it was only the village, after all), Larizu was intrigued. Curiosity always got the better of him, and besides, voyeurism was sort of a hobby. He liked to listen in. That's how he knew how much the rest of the people hated him. Well, that and the fact that they didn't do much to disguise their disdain.
Ya'd tink none of dem never made a single mistake.
Glancing from side to side, Larizu circled the hut and stopped to one side of the doorway. As with most of the other huts, the doorway was shaded with a simple curtain. The window was too high and tiny to see a damn thing through. He waited, ears perked, hairless brow raised with interest. Nothing. Maybe someone was just dreaming, making noise in their sleep.
He took a deep breath, prepared to let out a sigh of disappointment, and held it as the sound came again. It was a gasp, definitely, feminine. Sexy. Oh, most things feminine were sexy, but something about this was beyond the normal realm of sexy. Maybe because it was feminine and he was spying.
Should he peek? Just a little peek. Of course, they might see him. Maybe it was a guy that sounds like a female. Maybe he was jerking off in there, making girlie sounds... that were sexy. Larizu squinted and bared his teeth a little in disgust. His glasses begin to slide and he pushed them back up. His nostrils flared and then his face went slack. Scent.
Larizu leaned to his right and pushed the curtain aside to let his head and shoulders in. He looked to the left of the doorway and froze, rigid. His eyes widened as his pupils shrunk and then grew. There, not five feet from where he stood, was a very naked and very familiar female. Mimbisi lay on her back, knees spread as she touched the apex of the shining cleft that filled the troll's view; she touched the place beneath the arrow of blue fur that pointed downward. Her hips were... moving.
Mimbisi had a scent. Larizu's nostrils flared again as a low, hungry growl started in his chest. If Mimbisi noticed it, she didn't give any sign. Bold was not a word that would normally describe Larizu, but what he did then was bold, although he didn't really - couldn't really - give it any thought at all.
Within seconds his sarong was on the floor next to the mat upon which Mimbisi lay, and Larizu was kneeling between her knees, staring into her flushed face. Mimbisi had opened her eyes. She returned her gaze, half-lidded as she lifted her hips toward him. Then he was sliding into her and it was bliss, like nothing he had ever or could ever have done to himself. Just as he was all the way in, his balls pressed against that perfect slickness that brought the scent that made him throb to his guts, M'bisi was letting out a sob of pleasure.
Her body began to twitch, pull in waves, knead and draw on him exquisitely and Larizu let out a surprised grunt. Reaching out, he gathered the female to him and she mewled into his shoulder as he drew her up and rocked her with him, groaning as he felt her heat, smelled all of her, felt all of her and tasted the sweat on her ear. His eyes might have been open or closed as he sucked the soft flesh of her ear and watched strange images of light pulse vaguely over darkness. It seemed she was intent on draining everything. He was fine with that.
The waves slowed and still she clung to him, and he to her. She rested her head on his lean shoulder and he stroked the side of her head with his chin and continued to rock slowly. No jungle cat could scare him now. He was invincible. Powerful. Weak from this feeling, but something in him was awakened and he felt he could fly. He also felt he could sleep, or stay like this. This was nice. This was the nicest thing he'd ever done in his life. The most beautiful girl their age, and he had mated her. And she had liked it. Everyone would be jealous, look at him differently, and yet none of that was very important. She was so warm against him. So perfect.
Perfect. Tank ya, Loa. Oh tank ya so much and bless all ya names. Eating, sleeping, taking a good shit, little revenges, trips outside of the village with "found" coins: These things, Larizu loved. He thought he had loved. Dis, mon. Dis be love. How couldn't he have known this? What was anything else without this? Perfect.
"Perfect," he sighed into Mimbisi's tight, violet braids. She stiffened then, in his grip. Her body clenched around his softening dick in a way that wasn't entirely pleasant. Far from being accepted, drained, it now felt like she was trying to shove him out down there. The sensation was bizarre and alarming. Still, he held her, confused as she leaned back and stared at him with wide eyes; confused, as she clapped a hand over her nose and mouth to muffle her own harsh cry. "Mim-" She shook her head and Larizu tilted his, turned it slightly sideways as he peered at her over fogged up lenses. He was out of her, now, cooling as he felt himself against her still-warm body, but it wasn't like the burning heat inside of her. Wetness between them was becoming tacky.
Mimbisi kept her left hand over her mouth, eyes red-rimmed as if she were suddenly ill. She shoved him in the chest with her right hand, hard, and he let her slip out of his arms and move herself away from him. Her generous hips, hips that caught the attention of every male when she danced in the firelight, wiggled now as she withdrew herself from Larizu, yanked a dress from atop a nearby chair, and finally took her hand from her mouth to pull it over her head. She continued to stare at him as she did this; sat spread-legged and shoved the dress roughly down between her legs before settling back against the wall on the far side of the mat. She looked haggard, now. Beautiful and haggard. Wounded.
Larizu's teeth were bared in a grimace of confusion, his mouth drawn down as he squinted at her, still kneeling, head tilted. When she didn't speak, he shook his head, ears swaying. He spoke hesitantly, quietly, "Mimbisi, I dont-"
"Get out." Her voice trembled slightly. She was holding her skirt down as if it would blow up from a gust. Her knees closed over her arms.
"Wh-what? But-"
"I huh- hate you." Her eyes were rimmed with tears, now. Her mouth twisted in the hate she had declared. Larizu's felt hot as he stared at her in incomprehension.
He began to open his mouth again to speak, but she shook her head quickly and when she spoke the tears had left her voice and her eyes. They were replaced by the loathing he'd become accustomed to, but he was surprised. "I could scream, you know. I could cry rape." His eyes widened. Rape? He hadn't. He would never... "The only reason I don't is that nobody can know. You better not tell, Larizu." She sniffed derisively, the wounded look replaced by the more haughty one she wore for the likes of him. He suddenly felt as naked as he was, more naked than he was. "Not that anyone would ever believe you."
Swallowing heavily, feeling like he was dreaming, Larizu turned for his sarong. He stood, wrapped himself while ignoring the mess. The feeling of invincibility, if it had ever really existed, had vanished. He stood, hunched as he turned back toward her and rolled the top of his sarong tight so that it hung low at his waist. "I don't undastand, Mimbisi. Ya liked it."
Her hands flew to her ears and then to her lap, balled into fists. "Idiot," she spit vehemently. "Stop speaking Orcish. It makes you sound like an idiot. You're not even good at it." Then she was rising, standing on the mat and staring him in the eye as she stretched tall and he stood, hunched before her, and listened in silence. "Why do you stay, Larizu? Nobody can stand you. Your Daddy was a thief and a liar. YOU'RE a thief and a liar and on top of that, you're crazy. If your skinny ass disappeared tomorrow, nobody would look for you and you know it. No, don't say anything. I don't want to hear you. I don't want to know you. I hate you."
She had moved toward him as she spoke, whispering so as not to awaken any of the villagers, but Larizu heard every single word with painful clarity. His face was slack, unreadable as he stared at her, fists twitching at his sides. His hairless brow was furrowed, mouth a straight line between small tusks as his eyes went back and forth between both of hers. "If something..." She swallowed, as if the thought physically sickened her, before continuing. "If something comes of this, I'll drown it. Just like your mother should have - would have done if she hadn't died."
A long silence hung between them. Larizu turned his gaze aside, looked at the floor, chest rising and falling slowly. He muttered weakly, "I didn't rape ya."
Mimbisi slapped him, hard, sending his head reeling to the right and causing his closed eyes to water and sting. "You didn't touch me, Larizu. You didn't touch me. You insist on talking like an orc, go be around them. I wish you'd go. I wish you'd die. Get out."
His face throbbed hotly where she had struck him. Larizu blinked and turned his blank face back to her, nodded and stepped quickly toward the doorway when she lifted her hand as if to strike him again. "Out," she demanded, thrusting a finger at the door. He nodded dumbly as he turned and left.
Outside, and the sarong did nothing to divert his attention from the cool spot on the front of him as what he had left, what they had left dried and suddenly the night chilled him, despite the heat. He walked slowly and didn't look back. Maybe she watched him. Maybe she cleaned herself and started a fire to burn her dress. His orcish wasn't so bad. Everyone was a critic. It only happened once, and it did happen, whether she wanted to be a bitch about it or not, but only once. Surely, nothing would "come of it". She wouldn't drown it. Larizu shook his head as he plodded toward his own small hut. She would see the witch doctor before it had a chance to be born. Take some herbs or something.
He didn't force himself on her. She had accepted him; she had held him and clung desperately with her arms and legs and he had felt... hadn't she felt...? Stop it. Just stop it. Loa, tanks for nothing.
Larizu crawled into his own modest hut, lie on his sleeping mat with his glasses on his forehead, his hand over his eyes, and one foot in the dirt as his nose pointed at the ceiling. He snorted and lifted his bottom to quickly unroll the sarong, wipe himself briskly before tossing it aside. "Fine den. Didn't happen, girl. No skin off Larizu's ass." He folded the glasses and dropped them to the floor as he rolled to his side, drew his knees in. He stared at the outline of his own curtained doorway. "Yeah, I be talkin' to myself," he mumbled quietly against the side of his fist. "Dat don't make a bruddah crazy."
He should tell everyone her pubes were blue. His were, too. Nobody would believe him, about the fucking thing. Not about the pubes. Larizu closed his eyes, opened them again to stare at the curtain's outline. He would piss in her soup pot when she wasn't looking. Take a shit on her damn roof if he could get up there without falling. He shrugged his shoulders in annoyance. Stuck up wench. She did like it. She held him.
"Just stop it, mon. Ya only pissin' yourself off." One thing was for sure. Nobody was going to run him off.
Larizu rolled over to face the shadows and closed his eyes, draped one long hand over his head.
When he left, if he left, it would be on his own terms. It just so happened, he was thinking of leaving anyway.
Epilogue: He left. He never bothered to piss in the soup pot. Hers, that is. Plenty of soup pots in Azeroth.
Mimbisi resides on Moonguard realm, and in every single realm in the game. She's not mine. She belongs to Blizzard. Stop in the Filthy Animal sometime, and you can see her shake those bodacious hips.
If you'd like to leave a comment, I posted the bug part here because it made me smile. If you go there, comments are allowed. :D There are also a lot of really cool troll pictures in my "Favorites" folder.