His second thought, after losing the belt, slides him toward Eris, who was watching the events from not too far away, but neither too close. As he approaches her, he regains his composure. He remembers a happy drop leaving a dry well to go to a wet one. She feels tumultuous at this liquefaction, unlike the calmness of the past time, the evening when they first met, under the olive tree.
“Why have you brought them along? Why here? Why now? Why us? Monsters all over my freedom…yet I am here with you,” Cho grumbles to Eris.
“Why did you throw me away? You deserved it… You had the tools… to share a freedom… ultimately you shaped it yourself, only for yourself… Make it yours… the idea… you lost it… Those things… finally bind you… they show you where freedom may have been from the beginning… Let it go… Leave… Save yourself…”
“Alright… I understand… Change or… wait… stay… with me… Good fucks… Come!”
“Yes, that’s what I want… very much… But don’t you see? Nothing can be done now! They will get to us… they won’t let us start, let alone finish! Is there any way?”
“Those who hurt and love cooperate with secret communication with the landscape they see… with the kynanthros they mingle with… with the events they choose… That’s why every skillful Kynanthro always creates the place where they travel…”
They communicate without wasting time, with eyes almost closed, in a plan to distract the pack.
Greedy and lazily hedonistic, Cer, Ver, and Russ indulge in the pleasures offered by the belt’s pockets. The intoxicating delicacies make them forget their ignorance and intensify their anxiety in the face of successive revelations. They seem endless. Even objects that seem useless to them, like a secret double flute hidden in a pocket, arouse their curiosity. Except for Eris, nothing can distract their attention from the sophisticated tools of the belt.
“Now that they are eating and drinking from the pockets, if you play them a lullaby on the secret double flute in the belt, drowsiness is guaranteed!”
Eris arrives quietly, looks at them with eyes full of lascivious promises, bends down, and picks up the double flute. She improvises a prelude to a victorious dance and easily sends them into a state of ecstasy around the spoils. Slowly and steadily, she turns the tune into a lullaby and creates a soft and tender sonic landscape suitable for relaxation.
“Afterwards, under the starlight and the shadows of pieces, I will come to find you in the neighboring jungle. Pamper your wounds and wait for me…”
And everything happens as they planned.
The two meet again and, without delay, engage in a purifying, savage act of sex.
She, a polished and gleaming mirror; he, dirty and scratched, contaminates her.
Face to face, with gazes colliding amidst flames and smoke, they violate their own natures, evaporate into the ashes of treasures, and become one.
He, lustful, dominates her from above; she, in turn, from atop him, obediently commands.
All rotations are in their favor. Every fall is met with even more intense, successive initiations.
Amidst the ruins of former grandeur, always facing each other, they are unbaptized from the mundane.
The unmarried man, Choky, fucks the unmarried girl, Eri, all through the night, knowing that when morning returns, time will be done with them. This is the way.