Tower of the Rose (closed)

[Mystical Avalon]

She stood at the bottom of the endless mountains looking up into the sky. She wore her fatigue like an old shirt. The man Walker, made his way just out of reach of her guns. Giving a sigh, she started looking for a place to climb. The oracle had foretold this would happen. When she heard the mumblings of the other behind her, she froze. Where had he came from? He wasnt there before. Yet here he stood just ten feet from her. Blue eyes washed and faded. Clothing looking as worn.

His name was Roland and he was the last gunslinger from the line of Eld. So it was foretold. She was Rhylynn Dean. Her own quest for the tower was burned into her blood by her mother Susannah. She too was a gunslinger, her own quest ending at the tower itself.

One might ask how she then, lived. Her fate was drawn by the oracle. That is all she knew and here she was. Her quest binding her with another.

The quest for the tower. The quest for the Rose.

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Join poohlive and myself as we trek the winding roads along the path of the beam, in search of a tower, a rose. This is a closed thread but comments and suggestions are welcomed through pm.

 

[poohlive]

For a moment, a brief moment as this man in faded blue squinted against the fiery sun overhead, there was sadness in his face. Sadness of a journey, of a quest. It was the knowledge of a thousand years, a thousand worlds unfolding to only stand here one more time, to be here and have himself... to be...

Roland.

But, as he stepped forward, towards this new girl, his gun already in hand before he thought of it, it all faded. It faded from him, washed from his memory like a good bath will rinse the dirt of a hard day's work.

He stood here now, his mind no longer wandering, his eyes fixed and steady upon her.

She was new, was she not? He had not seen her before. Yet, he had no seen anyone for weeks. He was alone, he had been alone. His journey one of loneliness, traveling to find friends, only to have them gone by the wayside.

"I know you," But of course he did not. He remembered her, saw her as what she was. A gunslinger. Even without the iron by her side, even without the dress so near to his own, he knew who she was. The way she stood, the way her eyes glanced against the horizon.

The way she was, told him everything he needed.

"What are you doing here?"

 

[Mystical Avalon]

Her measured gaze held sway as he spoke to her. She knew him. He had her piercing eyes, she had his blood running through her veins yet there was no relation.

"I am Rhylynn Dean. I am the last gunslinger rbought into this world on my quest for a rose, a tower. That man, above us holds answers that will help my quest or kill me. Stay your guns. It is with hands as quick as the breath in my body that I could lay you in your own grave," and then spoke his name. "Roland of Gilead".

It was strange such a name from her lips. She let it linger there, savoring the taste.

She met his own hard gaze, with one as equal and more deadly as her own.

 

[poohlive]

"If you are a gunslinger, and know of me, then truly you understand that if I had meant to shoot you, you'd be dead by now... I was merely, curious."

Cautious seemed the right word, but then it did not in the same breath. He did not feel danger, and danger often encompassed a cautious person. Instead, he felt himself moving up near her, his eyes turning to the horizon and the man she searched for.

Inside this blasted land of a desert, she chased a man in black robes.

"That is Walter, is it not? He goes by many names, but Walter is who he is now, who I wish to seek. If you truly want the tower, then you seek him as well."

A gunslinger, after the tower? He had never heard of female slingers, but that was only his world. Other worlds, other times must have them. She had the look, she had the attitude. She did not fear death if she would chase this man into the desert for answers.

She must be good for something, he smiled, his eyes never leaving her.

 

[Mystical Avalon]

Speaking to him, she matched him face to face only falling just under the manly jut of his chin.

"If you speak in question, you shall only serve to puzzle yourself more. To you he is Walter. To me he is Walker. What worlds are these?" she said opening her arms wide.

"Make no mistake gunslinger, death does not scare me nor do you. I walk a path soiled with it. Yet we stand and let death clime further from us and we are none the smarter" she said.

She could smell the sweat and dirt on his skin. She was aware of how that one scent could trigger inside her feelings she had not felt since her own jump to this world.

"Before you, gunslinger, if you are up for the quest" she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

 

[poohlive]

The gunslinger said nothing, only knelt down on his haunches to study the ground below her. He could see the whisp of a robe, nothing more upon the ground. Like a sidewinder snake making his way past the dunes.

In this deserted tundra, it would only be a matter of time before this trail faded. Indeed, even now a hot wind blew some of it away.

He did not know if she were offering to come with him, or wanting to join his own quest. He supposed in the end, it did not matter. When one searched for the tower there was only the one quest, and Ka got swept up into it.

Ka and the tet, always intertwining, always finding one another.

Finally, he put the gun away. The sandalwood grip slid with ease into the parched leather holster. It lay low in his hip, hugging him where it needed. Another touch of the scorched earth where Walter had been not too long ago.

He began the first step, the inviting first step that would end a thousand miles later. The gunslinger knew this, even in his faded memories he was aware of this. Yet, he stepped anyway, and he did not wait for her to follow. Either she would, or she wouldn't.

Walter. Walker from another world. He thought they were still on Mid-world, he did not remember passing any other world. Perhaps, in this deathland they had crossed over, and now stood among End-world. He didn't think so though, the air would feel different, the ground... the water which parted his thirst.

No, they were still here, still in his own world. A dying world, he would admit, one where the feel of the land was death and decay. It was as if the very life of the earth had stopped trying, and this... this is all that is left. Not dead, but dying.

There was only a slight difference.

And, that is how they began, to follow the man with many names, to search for the answers to the dark tower. Roland, alongside his new companion, his new tet...

 

[Mystical Avalon]

She watched as he began. Stepping the first step he started on the trail to the tower. A tower which she herself was in search of. The pieces of what served now days as her memory, would only allow her to gather little snips of input.

She knew who he was, what he was. She knew of his own need for the tower and why. She did not know that he lived a tormented soul.

Her own soul, tainted with the blood of innocents having died at her deadly hand, was buried deep within her. Her darkness was the cloak underwhich she lived now.

She took the steps just after him, allowing him distance. She did not need to crowd him, she only wanted to use him for her own purpose. The rock face was uneven and presented no problem as they made their way along it. Here and there, they could see the forms of what served as a ledge as they trudged ever upward, following behind the flowing robes of the man in black.

 

[poohlive]

He walked until nightfall. The twilight embers of the sun blazened on the far skyline, until only wafts of purples and blues remained. It wasn't until then that he stopped for the night.

A small camp, little more than some gathered wood and weeds from nearby. It could hardly be called a fire, yet it was. Some dried jerky from his sack, and a few gulps of his waterskin.

Food, drink, everything was running low. As if the supplies themselves knew the journey was at an end, and would run out as soon as needed. Even dried jerky had a place in the tet.

Roland's eyes twinkled at that, almost laughter.

He laid back in his sack roll, laid so he could see the stars. His eyes were a perfect mirror to them, each one showed a twinkling universe which could not be held.

"Please, tell me more of yourself. I would like to know."

 

[Mystical Avalon]

She looked at him squarley. Over the firelight, his blue eyes seemed to magnatize her and pull her to him. She felt the urge to give herself to him, here and now, at the epic of this golgatha.

Her words were calculated and precise.

"What is it that you wish to know, Roland. There is nothing of myself that you dont know. Moreso, there is nothing of myself that I would not give were you to ask. I am Rhylen Dean daughter of Susannah and Eddie of New York. Sister to Jake of New York. Daughter of Roland of Gilead, Wife of Roland of The Tower, and Mistress of End World. I live within and die within" she watched his face as her words came forth.

"I am the rose in the tower. I am all things living and dead. I walk the path of the gun of my forfather Arthur Eld. I carry the sandlewood pistols as you carry them. I am you, you are me. We are one, gunslinger" her gaze leveled his.

She sat up, quickly crawling to where he sat and beside him she planted herself. Touching knee to knee, she again met his steeled gaze.

"I am what you covet more than life, yet I am living death Roland. I am you, you are me" with that, she turned her head and met his with a sensual kiss, the demon from the ring of stone invading her body, she offered her sex to him.

 

[poohlive]

Her words, silken and soft, touching him in more ways then he knew. He melted into her kiss, longing and desire upon them. As if he himself had been searching for that kiss. A well within the desert they were now apart of.

She was on top of him, and he let her. He let her take him how she wanted. His eyes glazed over as he could feel her drawing all of him out to her. Had she such power, to draw out his energy, his desire from within his flesh?

No, this was not right. He felt his cock, hard, thrusting, pushing up into her. He met no resistance, sliding too easily into her warm and pulsing cunt. Her legs snapped down around him, holding him there. He groaned, ecstacy and pain at the same time, rushing through him, meeting.

"Stop..." His voice barely a whisper, as he drove himself into her, wanting more, needing more. He had to fuck her, to take her here and now, in this twiglight of desert, in the twilight of death and pain.

She would kill him, and he still wanted her all the more.

"Stop, Rhylean. Remember the face of your father."

Could she? Her eyes glazed over, her whole body writhed in lust. He could not shake her from his form, her grip like tightened steel, finely woven over his body, keeping herself up as much as him in place.

He screamed out as she clamped tighter on top of him, as he came. He came deep inside her. Thick deep, big goblets of cum rushing into her, filling her, pulsing. His own cock refused to go limp.

Her cunt never let him miss a step, it clamped again, it milked it, it eased him. He never grew soft, but he could feel it again. He would fuck her over and over, cum again and again, until there was nothing of him left. Until she fucked him dry.

He would be a mummy before it was all over.

"Damnit! Rhylean. Right now. To me... daughter of Eddie... to me!"

 

[Mystical Avalon]

The fierce burning inside her cunt overwhelmed her as he took her over and over. Yet, his words stirred her and his anger awakened her and she pushed outward. With her mind, she pushed and felt the demon sigh. At once a ripping pain tore her apart and she fell onto the ground.

Screaming, she made her way lightening fast to the guns she carried and as her hands blurred, she heard nothing until it was over. Her chest heaving, her breathing uneven, she stood, naked, sweat covered and stared at him.

On the wind, a strong odor swam filling her nostrils with a foul sulfur smell and in an instant, the world shown bright with the sun. She met his eyes with the startled ones of her own.

"Roland, I beg pardon sai. I have forgotten the face of my father" she said dropping to one knee before him, "forgive me gunslinger. I have fell trap to the deamon among us" she said. Her voice even and low now.

 

[poohlive]

"You didn't forget," he laid down next to her, his eyes half closing already. Sleep surrounding him like a wet blanket, wet but warm. It drowned him in its constant nagging thoughts.

"You came back. Few have. I did not know you could..."

No, he knew. He knew cause she was a gunslinger, and in the end she could not deny that. A gunslinger never refuses the call when Dinh calls. To do that, would mean to challenge him.

"But you did well, better than I. I could not stop her."

Did he want to? When the pain settled in yes, but even then? The distance of pleasure, the pure rhythm that drove him beyond limits. It was a happy death, if ever there was one. He understood how a succubus had so many willing partners, even if she told them who she was.

"You see?" He looked between her legs, where his seed fell from her red willing sex. It seemed to delight him to see such a sight, and his own cock stirred back to life at it.

"You saved my life Rhylean. I am indebted to you."

 

[Mystical Avalon]

She felt the surge of pride engulf her used body as he spoke to her. The words she longed to hear comforted her. She was more aware of him now. Not as Dihn, nor as a gunslinger. But a man. Even though she was raw and used, she felt the glance on her sex and watched as it had its own perverse affect on his manhood.

"I did only what I had to do Roland. Your my Dihn, my father, my lover, my friend. There are no debts left unpaid between us, yet. There will be none. I would take that debt and have you pay it by showing me what true passion is. If you would have it so, Gunslinger" her words even, as she turned to face him once more, only this time as herself.

She allowed him to take her easily this time. This time, the worlds swirled with colors as their bodies collided on the soft grassy knoll. The man in black only a figment in their own imaginations as they perverted themselves in the pleasures of the sex.