In the Goth quarters of the Salem Hall dormitory, the lights were dim and the torches had gone out over the regency archways. The young witches of the academy had retired for the evening and a spooky calm reigned over the mystical corridors.
It was nearly midnight at the Twelfth roaming hour and only patrols of the [Sentinel Corps] could be seen in fields and on sidewalks, marshalling the island's borders.
At this ungodly hour of night, whispers of a group noised its way out of the hall's forlorn cafeteria. It was the sound of bubbly laughter. It was Rafel and his friends, having a late night sup in the time after the tournament of dragons—which ended hours ago. A bawdy male voice broke the eerie quiet of the Corynthian vestibules asunder.
And a murder-herd of wraiths flying over the isle at that moment turned to one another to share a look.
They continued on their way to the distant villages, and to the home of whomever sorry fellow they were about to ruin for the night. In the dorm's canteen, more laughter echoed out the white-tiled eatingplace. The lights in the cafeteria were only on above a longtable in which the friends sat, like true Viking tribesmen and their shield maidens aft a victorious pillage and raping.
The longtable to trade stories and drink on stale mead, and roar about the skulls they'd fucked.
There were no aproned cooks in the room. From behind the counter, Corazón weaved out with several trays wielded in her hands. She held up those plates with serious expertise and Rafel, seated at the head of the table with his friends left and right watched as she made way with more food in something of awe.
She reached the longtable and dished out the plates of steaming pasta like she had the invisible [Eight Arm] ability of a parasite demon.
"Here you go, Your Eminence. Percival, here's yours. Ravenna, this one's for you, with the chili peppers fried just how you like it. Aya, yours is a bit salty. . .per your acquired taste.
And Brunhilda! I put no meats in yours. Cheers to our vegan girl. I personally have a chunk of quail's lap. I don't know how you do it, dear, but for me, a well-wrapped steak in oil and condiments tastes like heaven."
Cora plopped down with her own plates at the closest left of Rafel.
"Hear! Hear!" Percival raised an ale horn to her. He too agreed vehemently with her about the total need for meat in a good meal. Alas, Brunhilda was vegetarian to the bone. Percival taunted Cora as she unfolded a napkin over her chest. "You know, moonhaired lass, if you let your hair grow a bit longer and started wearing dresses, a wealthy Lord or Sailsman might just come for you."
Ravenna scoffed. "Cora, in a dress? Please. Pigs would grow wings!"
Everyone broke into laughter. Percival clutched to his fork and grumbled. "I have seen stranger things happen." Aya Naamah quietly said from her perch beside Cora; with her friends circle she didn't have to hide her succubian blue skin and wore it sexily under the candle lamps over the longtable. She glowed from the inside. "Aren't we forgetting the main thing about our moonhaired lass though?"
She made air quotes with delicate fingers.
"Cora much prefer the honeyed cunt to throbbing cock!"
HAHAHAHA!
Another raucous round of laughter broke in the hollow cafeteria. Percival pounded the table and bellied right out his throat. Ravenna snorted and Brunhilda had to drink some water. Cora hid her face under her napkin. "Oh my gods! You did not!
You Succubus!" She pinned Aya's amused smile with slitted blue eyes. Aya only shrugged.
"Wanting pussy is nothing to be ashamed of."
It broke a fresh wave of laughter on the longtable and Percival grabbed his jug for a fresh pour of ale into his horn. Cora finally pulled her palm away from her face. She was flushed red as beetroot. And she said to clarify—or at least tried to. "I do not prefer either. I like what I like."
"Study group." Percival gulped more ale.
A pregnant silence fell over the longtable and Cora cleared her throat and began packing up the plates. Rosa wrung her hands. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this, you know?" she said. She looked nervously around at the others. Cora dropped off the plates in a pile behind the cafeteria's counter and returned to the table just as Rafel leaned in and dropped his goblet atop the burnish.
He said, "Bruna's sex life is private. And whatever or whomever she chooses to do in it is her own business. I agree with Rosa on this. But I think Percy is not trying to be a douche. He just wants her to feel normal talking to us about it." He met Brunhilda's foxy eyes. "He just wants you to know; same as everyone here that we would not judge.
Here with us: your friends, Bruna, this is a safe space."
Brunhilda nodded and closed her eyes a moment. She opened them but still frowned at Percival.
"Fine. I like some weird things. Yes. But I only watched the video about the guy who shat in that girl's ass one time, okay?"
There was a pindrop silence in the entire canteen.
Percival's mouth dropped open. Aya had a glint in her eye. Rosa and Ravenna weren't blinking. Cora avoided everyone's eyes. And Rafel was rigid in his chair. Now he knew Bruna had a warped disposition when it came to romances but a guy shitting in a girl's ass?
"Holy shit!" Ravenna gasped, finally breaking the silence. "I shouldn't say shit. SHIT! Why am I still saying shit. Oh gods!"
The room was silent another second before all of them burst into guffaws. It shook everyone round the longtable. Cora went red in the face, imagining the scenario where she would let someone take a dump on her. Never! But it was fucking hilarious. "Oh gods!
By the Martyr. I can't feel my ribs." Rosa was shaking in her chair, but still laughing.
Rafel reached further more in his chair at the head of the table, the first among the group to successfully calm his giggles. He pinned Bruna with solemn gilded eyes. "I'm sure I speak for everyone here, Bruna," he said, "when I say that we wish to hear more. Tell us."
Brunhilda looked around the fine faces of her friends. She saw light and love, a bit of surprise, but nothing of mockery. She too leaned in and began her tale: "I like to watch boys jerk off in places they shouldn't. Like the chapel, or a public place like the gym or transport carriage.
I listen in the showers sometimes. I don't fall asleep to the sounds of my roomie wanking at night—even when she think that I am. I pull of pillows and watch her when she's too gone to notice. I'm not remotely attracted to these people, but I like watching them.
And on my touchscreen, I read real-life stories of horny catholic damsels who have had lusty interactions with grim demons in the woods or some shit like that.
I sometimes imagine Israfel fucking Ravenna when I'm in the shower, and I love, love to spy on Professor Ivoria when she bends in front of the board. Oh! And I like to listen to the sound of my own pissing." Bruna ended blandly. "This is me I guess. You can all banish me from your friend circle now."
"After this?" Percival spoke first. "Never!"
"No babe, each one of us has a fetish," said Aya. "And I too read salacious smut of demons banging holy maidens in the dark forest paths."
Everyone smiled, and the longtable seemed to glow.
Rafel finished off his cup of wine. "I'm not ready for this night to end yet." Nods of affirmation went up from his friends. He offered, "so how about we take this party somewhere else?"
Again, nods of approval went up, swiftly followed by the sound of chairs scraping the canteen's priss floors. They all lurched to their feet.