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Victim of Circumstance: Purposeful Plum Blossom

Angel_Shine
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Synopsis
Volume 2 Despite many obstacles challenging Umeko’s emotional, physical, and spiritual strength, she resolves to help Japan’s banished moon god return to the Divine Realm. Each day the 18-year-old, Indian and Japanese victim of circumstance survives in the magical mountain palace of her savior & sworn master, she sees for herself that rumors of his unstoppable power, bizarre tactics, and devastating appetite prove true. Stripped of his powers and cast from Takamagahara, the Heavens, for being wrongfully accused of killing another god, the moon god’s “mortal” flesh has fallen prey to the evil manipulation of an ancient and formidable, dragon demon. As the girl’s emotions grow uncontrollably strong over a pearlescent-skinned host infected by an insidious sickness, she finds even more complicated feelings developing for his closest servants. Finding it hard to keep environmental influences from poisoning her mind, flesh, and spirit with unparalleled lust and an insatiable curiosity to learn the truth of the world she’s spent her entire life in, Umeko fights to navigate the pleasures of life without losing sense of herself or her values. ****** WARNING This book contains mature and explicit content that bends the mind's perception of what it means to be human and what it means to believe in a higher power. Please be warned that if you are a highly devoted person of faith to any one religion, or are easily offended, this book may not be suitable for your enjoyment. This book contains graphic, adult content that may be triggering for some individuals, including but not limited to: scenarios that lack clear consent, intoxication, mono- & poly-theism, manipulation, sadism, abuse of power, imprisonment, servitude, inner conflict, slut and body shaming, demonic possession, nightmares, murder, morbid curiosity of death and dying, talk about suicide, blackmail, self-loathing, the stages of grief, de-programming from upbringing, religious differences, unrequited love, idolization, betrayal, talk of universal domination, casual sex, sex addiction, profanity, wet dreams, voyeurism, same-sex content, masturbation, bondage, humiliation, mention of group sex, and descriptive sexual relations involving three people (FMF & MFM). This series contains mature, graphic and explicit content intended to entertain readers by opening their minds to multiple perspectives about the massive gray areas of life that have made us all victims, heroes, and villains of circumstance. ***** Umeko panics when she hears a sound at the door. Right as she withdraws her hands from sweltering flesh and sits up, Tsukiyomi walks through the door. Closing it behind him, she stares in shock and awe. Gripping her robe shut, she's unaware of what to do or say. He sashays to the futon in a silk, black robe to his ankles with red and orange flames that ember into feathers down the sleeves. Staring down at her blankly, he kneel into the comfort of the bed and crawls over to her; his loose, cerulean locks slip over his shoulder as he moves in on his target. His sudden approach startles her into gasping his name when he brings his face close to hers and breathes in her scent. "Tsukiyomi-sama, I--!" He takes her hand and raises it to his mouth, her words followed by silence as he laps her juice from her flesh languidly slow. The invariant gaze of his mystical eyes remains on her face as he tastes her arousal, Umeko's groin pulsing from every feel of his tongue winding and rolling against the nerve endings of the pads of her fingers. The linen of her garb feels constricting against her erogenous zones as she breathes quietly, struggling to withhold the fire inside her yearning for his attention. "I could feel you; such a curious sensation," between tender pecks over knuckles and thumbs, "Were you thinking of me?" ***** Find out where your donations go by copy & pasting: https://thisangelshine.wixsite.com/angelshine
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Chapter 1 - 41: Heavenly Correspondence

The surviving spirit of Ryu (ree-oo), a back-from-the-dead dragon emperor who once ruled over the never-again united, non-divine forces, has left Tsukiyomi's (t-su-key-oh-me) mortal consort stewing in terror at his bedside.

In good spirits, the self-serving fiend abandons the sole survivor of a massacre that was foolish enough to swear servitude to Tsukiyomi as thanks for saving her life. 

Savoring his control over the banished moon god's mortal-esque body within the lower level of their shared, enchanted mountain palace, Ryu keeps his back to the bronze maiden adorned in white. Ignoring sniffling cries that echo from the center of his and Tsukiyomi's cavernous bedchamber, he passes illuminated treasures; displayed on lava stone pedestals spaced equally apart in parallel rows, his wide path is outlined to the door. 

Crafted muscles of a fearsome warlord ripples under pearlescent flesh that would be naked except for the blanket of sweat and sex glistening under warm light. Hot and damp alabaster feet melodically slaps smooth, blue pearl granite as his pulsing, pink lemonade arousal softens from each bounce of every confident step. 

Following a path that splits the round room, amber rays from an overhead sea of conical, red-paper lanterns shine down to radiate messy, black-streaked, sky blue hair. Tied up in a loose ponytail, silky strands stick to porcelain cheeks and iridescent, scale-infected patches that splatter the length of a poised spine. The point of an ivory horn peeks from the right, front side of his head just behind his hairline; sparkling in the shadow of his palm, Ryu guides thick, straight tresses away from a flawless, sticky face with dull-nailed, human hands. 

Varnished, glossy oak hammered with black hardware shaped into large dragon scales creaks open for its master. Crossing under the tall frame of blue pearl granite set in arched gray stone, Ryu enters a 40 m (131 ft) wide, 40 m (131 ft) high, and 80 m (262 ft) long, pewter hall. 

Standing in an astronomical cave stretching high into darkness, glittering stone from deep inside Mount Hiuchigatake (hew-chi-gah-ta-kay) shelters yokai souls loyal to the mysterious dragon-demon rapidly climbing in power. Residing on Ancient Japan's, pre-Heian (hai-uhn), Yamato Island (yuh-maa-tow), assured feet greet cool, gray cobblestone with few steps before gliding into a left hand turn. 

Filling the distant end of illuminated stone behind him, blaring firelight reflects off every metal-coated curve of bone. A gargantuan, gold and silver skull with glowing, red-jeweled eyes, has mighty curled horns and menacing tusks around devastatingly carnivorous teeth. With silver stairs that lead into the open jaw, an elaborate bench of teal, silver and gold befitting of an Omnipotent ruler rests with serpent-wrapped torches on opposite sides. 

Making his way diagonally onto the teal, aisle carpet stretching twelve humans wide and stitched with silver lines in the shape of glittering dragon scales, Tsukiyomi's brocade blue jacket catches up in a hurried flight. Slipping brawny arms into wrist-length, energetically puppeteered sleeves, Ryu shields his host's earthly flesh from brisk drafts with an exaggerated, tickled chill. Loosely securing the attached thick, midnight belt into a knot at his waist, heavy yet flowy fabric ends just above defined knees.

Appreciating the tiny plush sink of every casual step, Ryu makes his way under floating, silver chandeliers; thick bands of sparkling metal that creep and swirl like clustered, thorny vines and slithering serpents carry dozens of lit, white candlesticks. 

Ryu nears the second to last door on the right side of the great throne hall as he faces the set of open doors; a massive wall of redwood, carved into a dragon's head split down the middle, reveals a stone tower's stairwell encircling a great tree with glowing, golden fruit. Before long, the wooden door to his home library, often referred to as a study, creaks open to receive its master. 

Passing life-size, stained-glass depictions of Ryu's greatest feats in dragon form during this stolen incarnation, the possessed mountain lord reaches the precipice of his shared workspace. In the instant he crosses the threshold, brocade fabric concealing Tsukiyomi's spectacular, pearlescent physique transforms into layered, purple and green robes draped over matching, pleated trousers loose around bare ankles. 

Strutting with the look of a freshly bathed, combed-yet-deliberately-messy, mid-back length ponytail, naked toes march onto brown-beige veined, forest green marble floors; readjusting his regal garments to sit more comfortably against the shell of Tsukiyomi's skin, he veers to the inside right. Entering deeper into the metallic gray, circular stone room, soft white, glowing orbs staggered throughout a blanket of ominous darkness overhead highlights stoic features. An illusionary night sky above twinkles with magnified stars greater than any real, nightly display a mortal's eyes could ever witness up close. 

With sizzling firelight roaring from within a stunning fireplace, the deep, curved mantel is held up by the horned heads of two winged, seated dragons; polished labradorite chiseled into poised creatures confidently face one another from opposite sides of the raised, lava stone hearth. Mysteriously bold and bright, matching red-orange fire opal eyes pierced with blue-green slits are set in both their heads. 

The warming scent of mahogany teakwood and clove fills the front third of the enormous room's air before fading into the smell of books near the indoor library's beginning. 

Aromas of smoke, wood and vanilla lingers throughout every literary treasure until the cool fragrance of stone joins in close to the walls. 

Even the faintest of light reflects off an oval, obsidian mirror in the host's peripheral vision; hanging above the fireplace, they're the only things decorating the wall between the door and first horizontal row of bookshelves on the left side of the room. 

Breezing further into the study, he diagonally crosses the sea of varying, rich green marble with opalescent flecks. At the end of his stride awaits a lordly desk and chair that faces him with its back to a gloriously woven tapestry. Ryu completely disregards the furniture past his left, arranged in view of the fireplace's radiance. 

A spacious resting zone with lavish comforts from another time, capable of hosting eleven humans, makes a semi-circle around the large fire with crackling embers. Identical end tables are placed between each elegantly upholstered seat carved from healthy, black walnut wood; erect with polished octagonal, black marble slates on a single dragon's leg pedestal, every pewter foot is a three digit claw clutching its own, proportionately large, Tahitian pearl.

A table big enough to comfortably be reached from any seat, is the thick, horizontal slice of a gnarly, knotted and misshapen tree stump. Massive enough to be thousands of years old, the ancient material is held up by six pewter, knee high, dragon-clawed feet. Adorned with an elegantly large, forest-green pot filled with dark pebbles, a large, branchy tree made of copper woven with rainbow-crystal leaves sprouts freely. 

With its back to Tsukiyomi's desk on the other side of the front third of the room, directly across from the fire (making it the middle piece of the half circle), the only 'couch' of its kind in existence still manages to steal the show. 

An olive-brown gold-painted, eight dragon-clawed frame with silver nails and floral scroll accents define every arched curve clutching rounded cushions; tufted smooth, brown animal hide is pinned down using silver, scale shaped buttons with an iridescent shimmer, making every tailored edge flow into the other seamlessly all around. 

On the opposite sides of the couch's arms and its adjoining end tables are ornate benches carved from black walnut that mirror one another (in regards to the left or right arm that is present); capable of sleeping three humans, sitting up or laying down, a superb, buttery suede buckskin is draped over lofty, velvety beige cushions. An excessively tall backing that curls back on itself smoothly tapers down three quarters of the chair's longest side and over the swooped corner that connects to a curled arm on the shorter side. 

Nestled into the chaise's only corner pockets are three pillows: a furry, golden square, a cylindrical, black taffeta with silver beads, and a smaller round, tufted forest green. 

Two sofa chairs of a similar style to the couch have high backs and curled arms. Matching, rectangular footstools with tasseled, golden trimming that hides black walnut peg-feet brushes the floor when the shutting door's gust wafts by. 

Protecting the precious green marble, and a gracious amount of space beyond the elegant display, is the shaggy-furred pelt of whatever fabled creature once carried its chinchilla-like black-tint fur whose rainbow hues ignite under every tease of flickering or glowing light that hits it. 

Beyond the rest area at the left front of the room looking in, the mountain lord's desk stands to the inside right– Ryu's trajectory path. 

The remaining two-thirds of the study has a horizontal wall of filled shelves split down the middle, presenting symmetrical wooden aisles. Tall enough to reach the brightest glow of twinkling orb beneath a blanket of impenetrable darkness, the entryway is lined with rows that guard an opening aisle to and around the center, circular opening. 

Carpeted with a black runner as still and reflective as pitch black water, the overhead, mystical illusion is completely mirrored by the supernatural floor. Laying four humans wide, the center path showcases the luminous reflection of a floating, perfectly round, illuminated moonstone above the bookshelves' center opening. Every beam of ethereal indoor, natural light gets dispersed into soft moonbows across every glossy and sparkling surface below. 

The front, center aisle leads directly under the moonstone sphere then continues down another aisle of equal length to the designated entry aisle– its continuation reaches the back of the room's curved, mountain wall. Surrounded by more bookshelves spaced evenly apart, all aisles connect from the center aisle or the opening's circle to a gray end; jagged hematite lines the inside wall encompassing the library with enough space for two people to pass from aisle to aisle, side by side. 

The library's entrance is lit by two, serpentine pillars half the height of the bookcases, making the stone creatures about the height of Tsukiyomi. Two lustrous pedestals face one another; carved intricately of a dark green, wingless dragon spiraling up a pillar, large dragon's heads support a mirroring, translucent pink stone, crescent moon. 

Facing the room with a back against the door, in only Tsukiyomi's palace was it possible to behold the spectacular view of a luminous, pink waxing moon to the left of the library's entrance, the full bluish-white moonstone overhead at the center, and a pink waning moon to the right. 

Acting as the perfect catcher of indoor lighting, the three moons work together to recreate the beauty of a true moon throughout its cycles surrounded by enlivened, twinkling stars in a windowless home. 

Heading for the largest and most decorative wooden seat in the entire mountain, dragon clawed feet clutching black crystal orbs with rainbow overtones glide back quietly from the matching, wooden workspace standing on four legs. 

Arriving at his chair, Ryu sits on sumptuous, silver cushions stitched with teal and blue scale patterns. With a backing that points above his head, curled pearlescent horns tipped in gold extend symmetrically from the wood in perfect place to line up with the rounded sides of his head. 

Gently tracing milky fingertips along varnished, dragon's claw armrests etched with expertly whittled, wooden scales, the chair brings him closer to the large, rectangular table. Ryu scans the shared tabletop to find neatly laid, painted wooden sticks tipped with metal. Feathers, vertically aligned in elegantly stamped holders, are placed beside calligraphy brushes of different girths. Lidded, ceramic pots in every shade of the rainbow stand in line beside the many drawing and writing tools with a short stack of bamboo scrolls in the middle. 

A knock at the door draws in both consciousness' attention as Tsukiyomi remains powerlessly bound within his mental prison-- yet completely aware as he chooses. 

The banished moon god's longest surviving servant and consequently closest friend, a humanoid horse yokai (demon/spirit), peeks his champion body inside. 

Concealed chocolate muscles stretch shimmering lead-dyed cotton to its limit, "Mi'lord?" 

Raising a powerful hand to point his thumb behind him with a beguiling charm and square, stubbled jaw, "There's a," twitching, pointed ears stick up on opposite sides of an afro mohawk.

Blowing eyebrow-length coils that fade from black to fiery orange from his eyes, he nudges the door open enough to present both his large hands in order to describe his words, "Little glowing person." 

Shrinking the distance between his vertical palms and visibly trying to hold in his laughter, "That's singing." 

Clearing his throat with a hand flat on his chest to repeat a message verbatim, the steed's funneled, brown suede ears lower. Charismatically copying the creature's caroling tone in a brief performance with his deep voice, "He-Who-Invites has counsel with the master of this castle." 

Temporarily holding back a smile with pursed lips when he catches Tsukiyomi's typical blank expression, the humanoid horse can't help but nod with a joyous, accomplished smile anyways. He's sure he successfully nailed the messenger's acoustic pitch in his own smooth baritone with added flair. The rugged stud's ears dance excitedly before facing the mountain lord with a longer, silent inspection. 

Digesting Tsukiyomi's porcelain face with hurricane gray eyes, Sanemaru tilts his head with a fading grin. Swallowing hard at the sight of abnormally mismatched eyes, he quickly blinks away his initial shock of seeing contrasting hues on his master for the first time. Rather than the empty stare of platinum blues or the dragon's primordial hellfire, chestnut horse ears lay back against kinky, fire ombre hair as a perturbed gaze bounces back and forth between the troubling irises of his lord. 

Sanemaru (sah-nay-ma-roo) clicks the inside of his groomed cheek twice. In his natural cadence, "Do you want 'it' in here," emphasizing, "Master," neatly trimmed eyebrows bounce alluringly.

"Or should I--?" Horse ears anxiously perk up in the direction of Tsukiyomi when he responds with a cool watered, "Hai (yes)." 

Remaining stoic in his sovereign, horned perch, ivory fingertips press together as his elbows rest on the table. Black hemmed sleeves slide down sinewy forearms to congregate in the bend of his arms; both apparitions grow eager to hear the wisdom from Izanagi-no-Mikoto (E-zahn-ah-gee-no-ME-koh-toe) himself.

Tsukiyomi's father, the celestial Creator of Japan, had been informed of the progression of his son's bodily possession by his youngest son, the sea god, Susanoo (su-sah-no-oh), only recently. 

The moment Sanemaru widens the doorway enough for their guest to comfortably enter, an androgynous being quickly floats in. Eyeing the miniature, humanoid messenger taking time to curiously mosey through the lavish resting area then shelved treasures, Ryu loses interest in his loyal servant. Paying no mind to the barefoot, braided fire-tailed demon with green nails, the door being pulled shut with a respective bow goes unnoticed. 

The shelves of the mountain host's scholarly collection contains neatly packed scrolls, bound books, various trinkets, ornate boxes, and the occasional bust or small statue. Hanging from the ceiling, blocking the towering, curved mountain wall behind Tsukiyomi's workspace, is a captivating tapestry picturing the magnificent sight of a full moon. Sharing its glorious, star-speckled sky with a four-legged, wingless serpent, silver-green scales wink at every wayward glance. A blue mane, running down its spine, dances as its body coils above a plum blossom tree forest dusted with snow in front of endless mountain peaks. 

The messenger finally returns to Ryu's view and halts above one of the two wooden, four legged chairs on the other side of the table. Facing the Lord of the Mountain amidst a hovering stop, the long white gown flowing loose around delicate ankles flows to a stop.

Standing as tall as an eight year old child of unknown gender, the golden glow of divine fabric is secured by a wide, gold belt smooth across the abdomen. Curly, honey hair rests on the chest-line of this tiny, full grown adult with the voice of a boy in choir song. Without laying a digit upon the strings of the harp in his/her embrace, a gentle rip resounds melodically. 

Investigative, amber eyes fall on the banished god; the androgynous being takes note of multiple changes since their last encounter many human years ago.

Whence there was a dignified, expressionless diplomat with solid, waist-length, cerulean hair like a cloudless sky now sits black-streaked locks. Once perfect, pearlescent glowing skin now carries patches of scale-infected flesh attempting to hide behind thick bangs and along the underside of bare forearms. 

In addition to the disturbing, physical changes, it's impossible for the messenger to dismiss the way Tsukiyomi's uncharacteristic right eye projects the aura of an unsympathetic monster with an unknown, possibly insurmountable, power. 

Drinking in Tsukiyomi's new look, the messenger is certain that a once prestigious god, although banished, is rapidly losing the strength to subdue a suffocating, soul-crushing infection. Every syllable falls from pouty, watermelon lips in a dulcet rhythm as the harp's tone turns somber, "Your poison threatens and spreads." 

The luminary (light-giving being) glances around the room before returning his/her disinterested sight at Ryu, "I have not come to speak with the Dragon of Dread." 

Ryu smirks to himself, visibly proud to have heard that his work in foreign lands have reached the Heavens in a way that the Creator's messenger is familiar with. Strumming the harp with delicate, manicured fingers, the strings vibrate; striking notes resonate loudly with a purifying energy.

As his/her angelic voice sings, weak shadow spirits in the vicinity of the entire mountain flee from what registers as an obnoxious, nails-on-a-chalkboard screech to anything non-human and divine, "Who steals forbidden knowledge from a time not passed, to fill this cesspool all that is morally dead."

Baring elongating fangs from mortal canines, iridescent scales surface around now dual reddening eyes while an oppressive heat from the dragon's energy sparks against the clashing, holy energy attempting to penetrate the entire room with a purifying melody of healing for non-yokai but a shrill, screaming screech to Ryu and all the others. 

Unphased, undisturbed, un-cringed by the harp's power, Ryu merely slams the side of his right fist on the table impatiently. Jostling the inanimate objects as a result, "A point beyond the obvious would speed this up." 

Snarling, Ryu gestures across the large table with his palm up, dull nails growing into razor sharp claws, "What has this domain's creator spoken?"

Unmoved by the jarring THUD, menacing snark, insidiously foul aura that prods through the air like tendrils, Heaven's messenger croons confidently for the dragon, "His word will make no sense to you, serpent. Settle or begone, for the time of beasts to rule are done."

Jumping from his chair as it slides back, Ryu floats parallel to the table with his arms at his sides like a flying serpent with loose fabric falling to drag along tepid wood. Locking eyes with the androgynous apparition while spinning in menacingly slow circles as he approaches weightlessly, "The pieces of you I'll return will make no sense to you," his threat finishes with a smirk. 

The golden aura surrounding the messenger brightens before swirls of turquoise shine through. Strumming the harp to release an uplifting and empowering trill, "Archfiend of forgotten lore with antiquated ways: even the strength of your darkness cannot cast a shadow over me." 

Tucking his knees to his chest before rolling in the air like a talented swimmer submerged in water, Ryu floats to sit upright in the air above his table with his legs crossed. Shrugging, "I expected nothing less from your holier-than-thou kind."

Extending his legs to stand as he rises into the air to keep a small space between his feet and the reflective wood below, Ryu paces back and forth above the table's front edge, "You have the audacity to mask the fear of your own descent." 

Ryu dramatically points up then spirals down to point at his host's chest, "With righteousness on behalf of this victim of circumstance," then runs clawed hands sensually over Tsukiyomi's body. 

"Banished here to fulfill a sentence," groping and moaning under the avid touch of his own self-mastery, "As if His suffering in the midst of punishment is unjust when we ALL know he's only here because of his own father's hand."

Warmly embracing his stolen, pearlescent body draped in the finest, shimmering robes, "Must be nice." 

With a sickeningly serene smile, "Having the entitlement to hide behind a Lord's glorified work simply because He created things like you to worship him so."

Running clawed fingers through the streaked hair shielding his forehead, Ryu sends bangs to the back of his ponytailed head. Such a simple act revealed the extent of flawed flesh contaminated by iridescent scales around the right side of Tsukiyomi's hairline on their tapered path to his sideburn. "How can you have the impudence to tell yourself he's the greatest," scoffing with an upward, right tilt of his nose as he glances away.

"When vindictive 'monsters' that could rival even me," hissing, he locks eyes with the amber eyed, wingless luminary, "Are merely. . ." 

A menacingly amused smirk tugs at the right corner of Tsukiyomi's lips as Ryu stresses each syllable enough for the point of his fangs to glitter in under the ambient lighting, "One. Seal. Away?"

A full blown grin infects the banished moon god's lips as Ryu nods his beautiful head arrogantly, "Anxious to be freed." 

Skimming his tongue over the crest of superb teeth, Ryu's eyebrows quickly bunch sympathetically as his bottom lip quivers, "So they may face their oppressors as time would finally," narrowing his eyes, "Have granted them opportunity."

The messenger deliberately drifts closer until the energetic fields of their bodies clash into visible strikes of red lightning and turquoise beams. Noticing the growing stir of air and the nearby vibration of physical objects, the messenger ceases his approach to stay back, "I condemn your insanity." 

Enchanting, non-threatening features remain contrary to the magnifying conviction of purely divine light that radiates freely as a spherical shield around the messenger. Ryu narrows his eyes with a snarling huff then sinks until he sits on the table.

Shrinking the radius of his overwhelming aura until it can be hidden in the divinity of Tsukiyomi's mortal-esque flesh, the serpent spirit raises his left ankle to rest on top of his hinged, right knee, "Seriously. . .?" 

Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, Ryu places a hand on his chest, sarcastically appalled, "Everyone I know says I'm the wisest and most logical person they know." 

Shrugging with a wicked smirk, evil's advocate folds his arms, "Guess this world runs on crazy now."

Licking under his upper lip, Ryu sucks his teeth before sliding from the temporary, wooden seat until bare feet dig into cool, carpeted stone. The soothing voice of Heaven's messenger rhythmically antagonizes the sinister yokai, "You may see beyond this thread in time, but you are blind to the final textile."

The messenger's verse visibly displeases Ryu's ears as he/she continues, "Keep wasting energy on being petty when you could be resting." 

Nodding once with confidence, amber eyes hide behind fair lids and long golden lashes. The pitch in his/her song reaches a new edifying beauty, cleansing all that lies in range, "Peacefully in the tomb made for only you." 

Strumming the harp to ripple the air with energizing waves that disperse on approach to Ryu's host, the messenger points at the parasitic beast with his/her free hand, "Lo, a kiloannum ago."

Though Tsukiyomi's body remains unharmed by the direct hit of holy music, its melodic strike ricochets off pearlescent skin and heads straight to the obsidian mirror on the other side of the room before dispersing within the pure, black surface. 

Having the protection of Tsukiyomi's divine spirit and stronger than average mortal flesh, Ryu is merely annoyed by the virtuous sound emanating from the wingless spirit's voice and the holy instrument. 

Waving his hand dismissively, "Speak then begone, Mal'akh," the demon lord pulls his long ponytail to his chest then boredly combs through black and blue strands with clawed fingers, "Before I carve out a tomb for only you." 

Sighing, Mal'akh releases the harp and it remains floating in the air by his/her side. Digging into his/her left, white bell sleeve, a scroll emerges in the small hand of the messenger's compact, traveling form. 

Unrolling golden, glowing parchment from the Heavens, Mal'akh reads it aloud as his/her harp plays peacefully along, 

"My only right tear: 

Turn your back to Heaven's Gate

A great sacrifice you must make

Accept defeat and you'll remain 

Forever trapped from my domain." 

Upon completion of the Creator of Japan's ominous riddle, Mal'akh carefully rolls the gleaming letter shut.

Interrupting the focused, whimsical being from completing a simple task, Ryu holds out an open palm. Incredulously with a raised eyebrow and head cocked fast enough for bangs to fall, shading his forehead, "That's it?" 

The scroll flees the honey-blonde spirit's hands and flies straight to Ryu. Before a rhythmic word of caution can be voiced, the divine paper reaches clawed fingers. 

An explosive, flashing SPARK and CRACK fills the room with a blinding white. In that same instant, Tsukiyomi's right hand is covered in iridescent scales, all before the scroll lands unharmed on the teal and silver area rug near his feet. Light and smoke slowly fades from obstructing Mal'akh's sight to reveal Ryu's scales covering Tsukiyomi's fragile, pearlescent hand. Pouting sarcastically, "Uh-oh." 

Bending and stretching disproportionately large fingers with bladed nails, Ryu stares at glittering ridges until the sound of sizzling skin quiets and the smell of burnt flesh weakens. 

Mal'akh floats to the chair across from Ryu's bent knees to stand gracefully on the nearest armrest with his/her featherlight weight. The messenger better examines Tsukiyomi's transformed limb before looking into the single, daunting terror of Ryu's hellish abyss. 

Pridefully running his tongue along upper canines, "Looks like tools from home can no longer aid this half-blessed human suit," Ryu waves the scaled hand nonchalantly. As though they were never there, the scales are gone to reveal red patches along the inside of Tsukiyomi's alabaster hand.

Mal'akh's eyes close with a respectful bow before the glowing being rises to stare into Tsukiyomi's cool, platinum blue iris. 

A healing voice empowers the air around them, feeding the floating, white orbs overhead enough to make them brighten and stay still, "God of the moon, I root for you." 

Skeptically stopping a soothing breath over developing blisters in his host's flesh, Ryu glances at the messenger. 

Apathetically, "You'd have nothing to root for, if it weren't for me," Ryu blinks simply before blowing cool breath over his host's palm once more. 

Gossamer lips part only to close without a word. Nodding silently, the luminary spirit turns into a gold and turquoise, swirling orb before floating up.

Ryu watches as Mal'akh's light pierces a hole in the impenetrable darkness of his ceiling, passing straight through stone. 

Watching the darkness fill the space above orbs that have returned to their previous, glowing waltz, "An Irin (watcher) that uses doors to enter yet leaves between the atomos." 

Ryu cups his chin with the uninjured hand, "Must've been sure he'd be harmed if he didn't make himself known." 

Tapping Tsukiyomi's ivory cheek with unharmed, dull-nailed fingers, "They underestimate me if they think a tiny little harp could break my bond with you." 

Dropping his hand and rolling his eyes with a scoff, "Divine timing." 

Sneering, "More like honeyed drivel sung to sweeten the deceit," balling his damaged, right fist, the sting radiates up Tsukiyomi's forearm with little consequence to Ryu, "Fed to ears hungry enough to believe in a god's favor."

Slamming the blistering fist into his left palm, "Starving to be controlled by someone with the power to stuff them so they never go hungry again."

Staring revolted at the brilliant scroll minding its own business on the teal carpet, "Pity they don't yet know they can get more than just favor by worshiping me."

Chuckling quietly, Ryu turns inward to see what Tsukiyomi got out of his father's message. 

~~~~~

Chained and naked within the confines of his own mind, a galaxy-dust dragon's head embodies Ryu's consciousness and floats to the imprisoned lord. 

Taunting Tsukiyomi in the dimly lit illusion of a torchlit, stone cell, the moon god raises his emotionless face to look at the greatest evil he's been forced to face for far too long. 

The refreshing waters of Tsukiyomi's emotionless voice echoes into the darkness beyond their small area of light, "Is knowing my will forms your destiny what flusters you?"

Ryu's eyes burn like two miniature suns; ensnaring the moon god's platinum blue irises, a radiating brightness illuminates his pearlescent, flawless face between loose strands of free, silky blue hair.

Roaring with a broadening, red aura around a flowing, stardust mane and curved horns, "I'm FLUSTERED," Ryu snarls, "Because your kind preaches 'balance'," he mocks the very idea as his energy fades and the force pinning every part of the moon god ends. 

Watching Tsukiyomi slump to the floor with his head slightly down, "Even though such a thing as," a vexing growl echoes around them, ""Free Will" exists." 

The dragon's head flies up close and personal to view an emotionless face, "It makes sense to you that even though my visions are clearer than your obscure prophecies. . ." 

Watching the mystical, oppressive energy fly back to make use of the surrounding space in a spiraling bounce, the trapped god dispassionately listens.

Ryu reinvades the personal space of his pearlescent captive, berating, "Because of the lineage you were born unto," a daunting snicker bounces off the walls of Tsukiyomi's study when Ryu laughs maniacally through his physical host. 

Examining the statuesque Tsukiyomi, "Your will holds my destiny ransom?" 

Ryu awaits a response that never comes. 

Growing impatient, "At least when I ruled," his foul aura intensifies with a blazing weight that pins Tsukiyomi's chained body back against the wall; hard enough to blow his hair from his face, splayed locks ripple against the mindscaped, gray stone. Giddily, "People knew exactly what they were to me," the dragon hisses while withdrawing a short distance. 

Eyeing Tsukiyomi's pitiful state up and down as the lifeless god does nothing, "I must say. . ."

Purring and bouncing his eyebrows, "Glad I'm not you." 

Flying in tauntingly close, stopping just before contact to gently brush his airy, dragon nose against Tsukiyomi's dewy skin, hot wind stirs between them as the apparition speaks, "Your father is far more cruel and cryptic than mine." 

Ryu exhales sharp enough for Tsukiyomi's bangs to tousle, "And he was not a god."

The stoic kami seemingly remains dead to all sensation and verbal abuse around him as emotionless eyes remain open. Pushing for any reaction from his host's stubbornly apathetic spirit, "Did you find his words encouraging or condemning?" 

Holding true to his statuesque expression and mindful silence for a long moment, Ryu soon loses interest. 

Turning around after his host's prolonged and boring attitude, "Y'know, for a god-turned-man that tells himself he understands the way of the realms," Ryu's hellish gaze suddenly returns. 

Boring into the moon god with his galaxy, floating head, "You truly," Ryu hisses in disgust, "Don't know shit." Sighing casually, "But that's okay," Ryu's dragon head pouts, "While you waste time deciphering that garble. . ." 

The stars in Ryu's floating head brighten the pink and blue milky ways; bedazzling the ambrosial body and stone prison constructed within Tsukiyomi's infiltrated psyche, Ryu boasts, "I'll be overthrowing your family and tainting your friends." 

Closing his eyes with a chuffed grin, "Until they weeeeep and beeeeeeeg for mercy after I ruin every old and new hole in their bodies for the next cock," Ryu promises while flying in circles in front of Tsukiyomi with a crazed cackle. Grinning so devilishly that it reflects on Tsukiyomi's precious mouth in the outside world, "What's the point of living when you block out all your greatest memories?"

Ryu, currently having full possession over Tsukiyomi's earthly form, strokes his smooth jawline, "You may as well submit to me because this "affliction" as you call me," running pearlescent digits over delicate, responsive lips, "Would be greatly cherished by any one of those creatures your father created." 

Sucking air into his cheek with a click, "And no one with the gift of this magnificent shell would want to miss anything I do with it." 

Jumping off the table to dance around the room, "Existing is NOT living and you," spinning in a circle with his arms up then down, "Squander such precious power on forgiving and saving selfishly foolish vermin that can't save themselves from the consequences of their own actions." 

Stopping at the end of his graceful spin, "Or lack thereof," Ryu's gaze instantly lands on the clay body of a scantily clad, curvy woman sitting between a pile of scrolls on the nearest bookcase.

Smirking with a nod, lowering his hands, "Barely useful." A wicked, pink tongue tastes his bottom lip, "For a satisfying milk or satiating meal." 

Sensually exploring his host's sensitive body with curious hands, Ryu sways until fluid steps lead him past the entryway. Straightening from another spin, mismatched eyes land on the black, oval mirror hanging onto cave stone. 

"In your opinion," tiptoeing suspiciously closer to the infinite disc of black with a lodestone frame carved into a dragon biting its own tail, "Just between friends. . ." 

Ryu hisses, "Has the time you've WASTED on following the rules of the 'Divine Alliance' been worth it?"

Growing disinterested in Tsukiyomi's apathy and dissociation, Ryu stares into the infinite void as he faces it head on, "This is why it's time for a New Era, fallen one." 

Cracks of blue light materialize along its suddenly shattering surface until the visage of a horned, primordial, fire-eyed, dragonesque Tsukiyomi covered entirely in iridescent scales looks back at him.

"The realms are ready to be ruled by One that won't deny their flock the wisdom and pleasures to be had," he licks his fingertips before smoothing out the eyebrows on Tsukiyomi's face by following the scaled ridges above his dragon eyes in the reflection. 

"All the proof I need is in the final product of the Heavenly Domain's attempt at giving life. What kind of flawed design allows any spirit the potential to get more power from humans' ample avarice and arousal," with a mocking chuckle, "Than you (god(s)) get from the convenient, wayward love they carry for the ONE(s) that created them?"

Raising a serious inquiry to Tsukiyomi, Ryu tilts his head at the mirror, "Why have faith in creatures that are so willing to give actual fucking 'demons' the blood and body you (god(s)) created solely for instant gratification after all that's been freely and patiently gifted to them?"

Like a living statue, Tsukiyomi remains blank and unresponsive to the dragon within the confines of his overtaken mind's prison. 

"Hn," impassively shaking out the wrinkles in his robes. 

Flattening down the fabric hiding a deliciously hard body, "Only a moron holds faith in those that can't hold faith in themselves."