~~Otrera~~
Otrera looked down at herself, and sighed.
She was naked, lying down in the grass, and staring up at the moonlit sky. Her head rested upon the lap of a nymph that was combing her long black hair. Another nymph was massaging her legs and working her fingers into the tight muscles. They never said anything, the beautiful women touching her, but they smiled, and giggled — so they had voices at least — and traced her many scars with their fingertips. She had much darker skin than the typical Greek; perhaps they found the pink scar tissue on her dark skin interesting? Not a one of them had a scar, not Perseus or the nymphs.
The nymph combing her hair was a taller, curvy creature with heavy breasts that nudged against Otrera's forehead every so often. The one who'd been having anal sex with Perseus only a couple hours ago was the one working her legs. The little woman had some strength to her, and Otrera groaned when her fingers managed to wear down the tightness in her quads. Her noises earned some more giggles, but she didn't care, she was being pampered and gods damn it, she deserved some pampering.
Andromeda and Perseus were a good ways down the river. The hidden garden was large enough that anyone could have their privacy, and from what Otrera could hear, Andromeda was enjoying her privacy a lot. The water carried her husky moans along the river and around the Hesperides' garden, enough so the nymphs smiled at each other, and more than once got a little frisky with Otrera's body.
She let them. How many years had it been since a man or woman had touched her? Hard body, short, thin, lean, small breasts, she was a tiny warrior and that didn't make for many sexual opportunities. Was it so much to ask for some sexual relief? After hearing the moans of Andromeda, it was starting to get to her too. A minute later, she reached up, took one of the busty nymph's hands, and set it on Otrera's breasts.
The nymph giggled, got the idea, and instead of combing the Amazon's hair, started to massage her breasts with both hands. And Otrera melted into it. Hands, on her body, kneading her pert breasts and caressing her nipples in circles with thumbs. Fingertips teasing along their undersides. Gods, she needed—
"Otrera."
Quirking a brow, she looked between the two nymphs. They smiled at her, but otherwise continued to caress and spoil her. Could have just been her mind?
"Otrera."
No, definitely not her mind. She stood up, glanced around, and then looked at the nymphs. "Hear that?"
They shook their heads.
"This... is your garden, right? If someone was here, you'd know?"
They nodded. Of course they'd know, they were nymphs, the Hesperides.
She frowned, reached down to pick up her scabbard, and started walking toward the noise. With a hand on the sword grip, ready to draw at a moment's notice, she stepped into the garden with slow steps on bare feet.
It wasn't that she didn't realize she was investigating a mysterious voice whispering her name, alone, in the middle of the night, in a secret garden. It wasn't that she didn't understand how stupid she was being, going alone into the middle of the garden where the trees were dense, to pursue the voice the nymphs did not hear or sense. But...
"Otrera."
But the voice called to her, like a shadowy caress on her spine. It danced on her skin, worked up her toes where they touched the soft grass, ran up along her naked body until it tingled on her neck. It was quiet whisper, and she could taste its depth, like smoke. Even smell it.
The moonlight broke a trace of light through the canopy. It glimmered along the golden apples of the center tree, and over the mask that sat upon the boulder next to it.
Like a scene straight out of a poem. She walked over to the boulder, naked as a bird, sheathed sword in hand, and a beam of moonlight shining down on both her, and the mask. The black mask, with its weird, swirling lines of silver. Eye-holes, a parted mouth, and a thick body of obsidian; not a material she recognized. She wanted to say rock or some weird metal, but neither rock nor metal could carry black that deep.
And the world came to a stop. The breeze silenced, the leaves stopped rustling, and all was quiet. Her breathing slowed, but each breath was shallow and hard. Cold, but not cold. Like a heavy fog pressed down on her, but she could not see or feel it. Like someone was covering her mouth with icy fingers. But a fool she was, and she took another step toward the mask.
"Otrera." It spoke. Faint shimmers of white glowed from its eyes and mouth when the quiet voice slipped from its black frame.
"... who are you?"
It laughed, a dark and covered sound, like someone speaking from underneath layers of rock. "Does it matter?"
"Of course it fucking matters. You're a mask." She was whispering. She didn't know why she was whispering, but it felt like the right thing to do. It's not like what she was doing was wrong, or that it would matter if Perseus or Andromeda caught her; and yet, she whispered, like it was a dark, dirty secret. "Does Andromeda know you can talk?"
"No," it said. Again, more laughter, raspy and layered. "Are you... enjoying my gift?"
She froze. "Gift. Being a Fate's Child?"
"Many lives... to make, Amazon Queen. Do indulge," it said. It talked well, for a mask, but its voice was smoke and death. The sort of voice she imagined the darkness held, when wolves and lions prowled within, hungry. A voice of teeth and bloodlust, harsh and filled with rasp, alongside deep waves of power like a rumbling earthquake, but all spoken through layers of earth and metal, as if from a prison.
"Indulge? I took the gift so I can — the fuck am I telling you for?" She stepped closer to the mask, and stared down at its unmoving form. For all she knew, she'd gone crazy and was hearing voices.
"Ares's favor will not come, little Amazon."
She growled. "Fuck you."
"And while... god of war cares not... for Amazons' failures, I am... intrigued... by your stubbornness."
"Yeah well, it runs in the family."
"Ah... family." The mask chuckled, and for a while, the white glow ceased. But it returned as a gentle mist once more, and the verbose mask began again. "My sisters... not be kind to one... obtained the gift... unsanctioned means."
"Sisters... gift..." She took a step back. "W-what are—"
"Hush... little Amazon. The gift... yours to use, and use freely. The strength of many lives... bless your vessel. You are powerful... hard to kill, and glory... drawn to you as you it. But Ares will not care. And your life... eternal torment... Fates capture you."
"That won't happen. Not if Andromeda succeeds." Stop talking to the mask. Stop talking to the mask.
The laughter returned, hushed and deep. "Only when... sea runs red with blood... will the sorceress's ambitions be met."
"But—"
"And when all your hopes... and dreams... come crashing down around you, Otrera... Amazon Queen, I'll be there... help you. With me... can make something of the mess of bone and blood Andromeda... will create."
She took another step back. Her sword was shaking in her hand, and fingers were turning pale.
"H-how?"
"A Fate's Child can wear a... Moirai mask... and live." Its voice faded like dying mist, but just on the edge of her hearing, she could hear its call. The glowing of its eyes disappeared, and the darkness that closed in around her along with it. But the coldness remained on her spine.
She brought a hand up to her lips. "Wear—"
"Wear what?"
Otrera jumped, spun around, drew her sword, and landed with the blade pointing in front of her.
Andromeda stood there, face calm, steady, and just as naked as Otrera. Even with the Amazon's sword only inches from her chest, Andromeda didn't move or flinch. Hard as stone, her new leader was.
"Did I startle you?"
"You uh... you did." Otrera sighed, relaxed, and sheathed her sword. It was the first time she'd ever seen the sorceress nude. A tall woman, with tawny skin like Perseus, and just as smooth. Smooth except for one grand scar across the center of her chest. How had she received such a nasty thing? Still, it did nothing to detract from her beauty, her lean and tall frame, her long and wavy blonde hair, and her breasts. They didn't have the weight or mass of the curvy nymph's breasts, but they were still plentiful, and Otrera licked the inside of her lips at the sight of them.
But Andromeda's cold gaze and hard chin cut through the atmosphere like a killer's knife. Whatever Perseus did to seduce such a deadly woman, Otrera could not fathom.
"You said wear," Andromeda said. She stepped around Otrera, reached out, and picked up the mask. Otrera thought its eyes might start glowing white again, but the mask remained lifeless. "I wouldn't advise it. I put this mask on twenty people, and twenty corpses later, it had the blood it needed to fuel your ritual."
Otrera gulped. The mask told her she could put it on. Not after hearing about the many people killed wearing it, she likely wasn't!
"I'm surprised you just leave this thing out. The Fates are after it, Bellerophontes is after it, and apparently so are a giant, and Medusa herself." Otrera stuck out her free palm, and smiled.
Andromeda grinned in return, a small one more befitting a stalking lioness, and put the mask in Otrera's hand. It had weight. For a moment, Otrera was sure it would start speaking again, but the mask remained silent while she turned it around in her fingers. Thick, black, the inside held none of the chaotic silver lines like on its face, but instead, pure obsidian night.
"My magic hides us from their eyes, while my eyes can find many things, if it were to somehow go missing," the sorceress said. Otrera did not miss the veiled threat. "And besides, the nymphs cannot leave, they enjoy my presence — or Perseus's at least — and he is my lover." Andromeda leaned in a little closer, and unless Otrera's eyes were fooling her, the sorceress was smiling. "That leaves only you."
