#Jissana

[the-iron-orchid]

Jinana’s Birthday Renderpalooza! 

Requested By: @vissentasenadz

TFW you about to send that gurl into subspace right there in da damn club (ft. a special closeup to show off lil Scorp collar :3 ♏)

[the-iron-orchid]

Jinana’s Birthday Renderpalooza!

Requested by: @fullyfunctionalapprentice

The sandwich everyone wants to be the meat in, Jissana 😂

I was hoping we’d get to see more cleavage, but all those arms just get in the way, lmao

[the-iron-orchid]

Your Promise to be Found

Synopsis: Jinana takes up Vissenta on her proposition in the intoxicating atmosphere of Evander's lush garden party. (Sequel to Transfixed By the Inner Sound by @vissentasenadz, ~2400 words.)

Notes: Vissenta belongs to @vissentasenadz and Evander belongs to @luasworkshop ; both appear with permission!

Warnings: D/s dynamic, exhibitionism, bondage, kink furniture, spanking, sex magic, manual stimulation, praise kink, edging, orgasm control, overstimulation. 🔞🍋 MINORS DNI!

---

Jinana Seraphina Aditya, the child of an actor and a dancer, is well-versed in the arts of charm and grace. S/he is an experienced Dom/me, with more than a decade in the role to hir credit… and a powerful sorcerer, with primal magics at hir command.

These qualities come to hir aid during Evander’s social functions, where the rich and powerful of very singular tastes mingle. Despite hir own more humble origins, these things lend hir an air of such unassailable poise that even the most supercilious of nobles restrain their sneers in hir presence.

Vissenta has shattered that poise with a single question.

What if you tied me up?

For a brief instant, Jinana can only stare at her in naked astonishment. Then s/he smiles, assuming hir ​​rôle like a cloak, covering over hir surprise even as hir hindsight tallies a hundred little clues previously dismissed.

“If that is what you want.”

Vissenta takes a deep breath (appealingly dangerous in this gown) and nods firmly. “I do. Call it… a new experience.”

“Then I would be most honored. Come with me.” Already hir voice has slipped into the mode of velvet command, extending hir ringed, hennaed hand. Vis takes it, and Jinana leads her back through the gardens. The change in their manner alone draws eyes from the other guests as they pass; in this crowd, the exchange of personal power is a palpable thing.

S/he seeks out Evander, resplendent yet restrained in his costume. His mask is fashioned after a carved marble statue, primeval with mosses and cracked with age, the face of a forgotten god. His skin has been painted to continue the illusion; the powerful build of his upper body and even the truncation of his lower limbs only adds to the statuary effect.

The metaphor, s/he is sure, is lost on no-one.

He evinces no surprise, but s/he can tell that hir request pleases him, that his eyes will be upon them for this scene. A wave of his hand summons some of the small army of aides whose sole task is to ensure that every player has what is needed.

As the setting is prepared, Jinana converses with Vissenta in low tones, setting the boundaries of this scene. Practiced, s/he knows how to make this negotiation part of the anticipation, rather than a delay, like the selection of choice morsels from a feast. Shall I do this, or this? Speak your wants, your desires, that I may grant them… if you are good. Hir fingertips trace lightly and decorously over Vissenta’s hands as they speak, maintaining that critical contact, the connection.

The flush on Vissenta’s face and bosom deepens just a little with each choice she makes, each admission of a want. Jinana gives a small nod and smile of approval with each, underscoring that this is a place where it is not only safe, but expected to air such things. These wants exist only within this careful container of fantasy and beauty, like a dream, without consequence.

All the same, she has the power to exit this world at any moment, simply by speaking a word of her choosing.

“Roulette,” Vissenta says, with the inflection of her homeland and a curving of her lips. Taking her meaning, Jinana smiles.

The special bench Jinana has requested is both sturdy and beautiful, adorned with elegant gilded scrollwork and immaculate white leather cushioning, clearly purpose-built. It rests upon a sort of marble dais, backed by lush flowering plants and a spray of gleaming peacock feathers arranged in a tall vase.

“Only the best,” Jinana murmurs into Vissenta’s ear, leading her up onto the dais. Witnessing this, a number of interested parties have begun to assemble, curious. Jinana recognizes some of them, regular observers of hir work.

These avid faces are the last thing that Vissenta sees as Jinana ties the silk blindfold over her eyes, then places hir hands on her shoulders.

“Let us begin,” s/he says softly, defining the threshold. An aide hands hir a bundle of fresh silk cording, then respectfully withdraws.

Jinana measures the cording against Vissenta’s body, noting where to create the magically-infused knots. S/he knows that Vis can hear hir speaking the words, that she can no doubt feel the slight change in the magical currents as the energy is imbued… and the alteration that s/he has made to the spell. Will she know what it means?

“It would be such a shame to damage this,” s/he adds, moving to unfasten the bodice, freeing Vissenta’s body from the gown.

Vis is not shy, and bathing is so routinely a shared activity in Vesuvia. Jinana can’t say that s/he’s never looked. But here and now, it is a different matter - the body as something to be shown, an altar of interpersonal sorcery. Her posture is very straight, as proud as ever, her chin still with that slight imperious lift to it, even blindfolded. 

The cords wind around and around, assisted by Jinana's own magic, well-practiced. There is an undeniable thrill in the way that Vis responds so readily to hir instructions to lift her arms, to place them together before her, to stand with her legs apart.

Soon, a harness of shimmering jewel-hued silk wraps around Vissenta’s curves, framing her breasts, with charged knots snugged just beneath the perked nipples with their golden jewelry. The cording winds over her hips and between her ample buttocks, pressing aesthetically into the soft flesh, leading in turn to another strategically placed and magically-charged knot. 

Vissenta quietly sucks in her breath when Jinana activates the magic stored in the cording - then gives an equally-quiet ‘oh’ when she realizes what has been done to it.

The knots situated against her nipples and over her clit grow chill, then warm, then thrum gently for a few moments, before starting the process all over again.

“Do you like that?” Jinana asks, though s/he knows the answer.

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. Let us continue.”

S/he leads Vissenta the short steps to the ornate bench, telling her to lean forward. But here she balks - perhaps understandable, given her lack of sight, and the vulnerability of being bent over a piece of furniture.

“I’ve got you,” Jinana says, shading hir voice with warmth beneath the air of command. “Follow my hands.” The pressure of hir palms guides Vissenta’s body, firm but not overly forceful, and she relents, letting herself be eased into place.

Jinana ensures that she settles comfortably against the padded cushions, securing her bound wrists to the frame, spreading her legs just a little more before securing her ankles in turn. S/he then runs hir hand down Vissenta’s spine, over the bonds. “Good girl.” Though Vis’ face remains impassive, Jinana is surprised to feel a light shiver go through her body, and makes a mental note of it. The caress continues down over Vissenta’s backside, ending in a light, playful slap. The impact makes for a delightful jiggling ripple, and s/he repeats it for the other side.

Vis turns her head, as if trying to sense the next move. “Ah ah,” Jinana admonishes. “Stay turned toward your admirers, let them see your pretty face.” Once again, Vissenta complies.

Slowly, Jinana builds up a rhythm - it’s not enough to truly cause pain, just enough to tingle, to tease, to bring the blood to the area. Vissenta has a very fine set of buttocks, and the way they bounce and pinken as they’re spanked makes for quite a show. (Indeed, while some patrons are focused on her face and breasts, others have discreetly moved to get a better view of her backside during these ministrations. At least one produces a lorgnette.)

A complex dance takes shape, Jinana’s hands moving over Vissenta’s body to play her like an instrument. S/he notes what draws a reaction, and where; s/he magically modulates the intensity of the sensations that the imbued knots provide, moves them with little tugs of the cording. S/he allows Vis’ backside a brief respite from the spanking, only to return.

For her part, Vissenta puts up a good front, a stoic air - but to someone of Jinana’s experience, every little twitch and tensed muscle and nuance of the flush under her skin speaks to hir.

“Tell me, lovely, how are you feeling?” s/he purrs, more to engage Vis' mind into the scene than because s/he truly needs such feedback.

“I can take more,” Vissenta says, her voice exaggeratedly calm, at odds with the growing tension in her body. Jinana laughs lightly.

“Oh, I’m certain you can. But I’m not done here just yet.”

Bent over, thighs apart, the dark curls of her groin cannot conceal the response of her body. The cording frames her vulva, too, plump and rosy with arousal, vulnerable to the tugging of the cords as well as the sensations of the charged knot. 

Vissenta’s breathing, however, remains controlled, slow, deep and steady, an interesting form of resistance. But Jinana does not expect her to go under tonight, to that place where the mind lets go of its restless chatter, subsumed by the body and set free. (Or so s/he is told; it is a place s/he hirself simply cannot go.)

Even so, Jinana always gives of hir best.

S/he excites and s/he soothes, bringing Vissenta closer and closer to release with each wave, before drawing her back once more. Vissenta finally gives a slight groan of deprivation, her thighs beginning to tremble, bowing her head as if to hide her need. Jinana takes a firm grip on her coiled braid, tipping her head back to the view of their audience, while the other hand administers more of those quick, light slaps that set her ass to bouncing so appealingly. But before the accumulated strikes can tip over into more than a light stinging, s/he once again runs hir hand up and down Vis’ spine in a slow, soothing motion. “You’re doing so good for me, lovely. Are you sure it’s your first time? You take it so well.” S/he punctuates this with more playful slaps and a low chuckle. “My good, good girl.”

S/he once again feels that shiver travel down Vissenta’s body, more strongly this time - then she relaxes under Jinana’s hands in a subtle, curious, but unmistakable way.

Surrender.

Unexpected or not, Jinana knows just what to do. S/he continues the dance, building it up again, and now Vis’ energy is purely feeling - no longer analyzing, no longer resisting at all. Her body undulates gently against the padded bench, her lips parted on her sighs and little sounds of pleasure as the magic-wrought cords and Jinana’s own magician’s fingertips do their work. Tingling sparks of energy add an additional thrill when s/he tweaks Vissenta’s nipples or caresses her swollen clit, in between more smart little slaps to her buttocks. Vis doesn’t strain or try to press herself to the touch; she simply takes what is being given, more and more, a chalice poured full to brimming.

This time, when it all threatens to overspill, Jinana does not draw it back, but bends to speak low into Vissenta’s ear: “Now, beautiful. Be a good girl and come for me.” The shiver becomes stronger, her back arching, quickly cresting over into ecstatic, shuddering climax. Her hands clench convulsively where they are bound, her hips pressing into the bench, half-formed words spilling nonsensically from her lips.

But that is not the end of it. Jinana increases the sensations s/he is providing, with no respite, and in this receptive state it doesn’t take long for a second orgasm to follow on the heels of the first… and then a third, wrenching in its strength, forcing guttural cries from her throat as her body twists helplessly in long spasms of agonized pleasure.

Only then does Jinana allow her to start returning to earth, running light and soothing hands over Vissenta’s flushed and sweat-sheened body. She is slack against the bench, breathing harshly and deeply, like a runner.

“Come back, sweet girl,” Jinana murmurs, slowly beginning to undo the bonds - s/he could cause them all to fall away in a single snap of hir fingers, but s/he senses that the little ritual of patiently unknotting the cords will do more to help ground Vissenta after this experience.

The blindfold is removed last, just as it was placed first. Vis’ makeup is hopelessly smudged, her eyes the yellow-green of a cat’s as they slowly open under the moody magical illumination.

“I’ll help you rise, when you’re ready,” Jinana says quietly. “Take your time.” S/he pushes a few tendrils of loose hair back from Vissenta’s face with a smile. “You did wonderfully well.”

An attendant brings a plush robe, and Jinana assists Vis to get into it and rise from the bench. Her legs are a little unsteady, but she isn’t much taller than Jinana hirself; s/he can support her the short distance to the little aftercare pavilion that has been set up to receive them.

Every detail of this small retreat has been chosen to create a pleasant, inviting atmosphere in which to recover - private, cozy, dimly lit and faintly scented with incense. There are carafes of iced water and cold juices to hand, a selection of cut fruits and finger foods. Jinana eases Vis down to recline against the welcoming pile of cushions. She gives a faint protest, attempting to rise as Jinana pours water for them both.

“Ah.” Jinana holds up an admonishing finger. “I want you to relax.” Hir voice retains its authoritative tone, and Vis immediately acquiesces, accepting the goblet. She takes a sip, then thirstily drains the cup. Jinana follows it with a restorative serving of sweet fruit juice, the essence of berries and pomegranates.

“You are still one foot in the place of dreams,” s/he says, smiling. “Take all the time you need. I will watch over you.” S/he seats hirself close by, and Vissenta allows hir to draw her down, pillowing her head in Jinana’s lap. S/he takes a rosewater-scented cloth from the thoughtfully-provided tray, gently wiping the ruined makeup from Vis’ face.

“Thank you for trusting me,” s/he says, smiling down at her. “Now let me bring you back home.”

[the-iron-orchid]

Trading off a little on who's leading the dance for Vissenta's Birthday! ♏🦂

[the-iron-orchid]

Jinana’s Birthday Renderpalooza! 

Requested By: @vissentasenadz

There’s no heterosexual explanation for this

[the-iron-orchid]

The Flame You Hold

Synopsis: Jinana unwinds with a little alone time, thinking over recent developments in hir relationship with Vissenta. (~1200 words)

Notes: Followup to Give Me My Self Again by @vissentasenadz

Warnings: Mentions of D/s dynamics and kink, including spanking, nipple clamps, bondage, and blindfolding. Masturbation.

🍋🔞MINORS DNI!

---

Jinana is always careful to give time to hirself after one of Evander's events; to perform is demanding. Heron understands this, and this evening has been hir own.

S/he did manage some small amount of sleep in the early morning hours, ensconced in the luxurious little pavilion with Vissenta. But a part of hir remains alert in such situations, attentive to the needs of hir scene partner. The thoughts may swirl and rise once the body has regained its equilibrium, and reassurance may be required well after the scene has ended… especially for one new to that side of the dynamic. 

Jinana’s own thoughts have been swirling ever since. If s/he did not expect Vissenta’s impulsive request, s/he doubly did not expect for her to reach the point of letting go, of submitting fully. It is an honor, of course - it is so often difficult for a person of strong personality to even admit to such wants, much less be able to give in to them.

(S/he must admit a tiny amount of envy; s/he hirself cannot do this. Lessoned too well, too thoroughly in the dangers of losing hir control, s/he cannot now put it aside, even should s/he want to.)

And while it is easy to dismiss things done under the intoxication of the senses that surrender brings, what it all ultimately means is that Vissenta trusts hir. 

Jinana has worked very hard on hir demeanor, in order to inspire just such trust during and after a scene… but they did not begin in this fashion. Vissenta has seen hir spill hir drink laughing at a ribald joke at the Raven, she has commiserated over Jinana’s own seeming inability to maintain any but the most casual of relationships. Jinana has listened to her speak of her homeland, in terms vague enough for distance, yet revealing enough to know that her past is marked by a cataclysm of unimaginable scale.

S/he knows her well enough to know that Vissenta does not give her trust easily.

All the same, s/he knows better than to assume that her permission and interest is ongoing, or that this is anything but the product of that trust in a very special environment. There is no telling if it is enough for Vissenta simply to know that she is capable of such submission… or if she may want to explore this new aspect of herself further.

Jinana is not certain which possibility haunts hir more.

During a scene, hir attention is entirely on hir partner, and it is easy to ignore any wants of hir own. S/he is, in fact, infamous for never taking hir own pleasure at these events, not publicly. But here and now, lying on the colorful coverlet of hir own bed, hir mind insistently wanders back to it all, in vivid visual and tactile impressions. Moreover, it invents things, possibilities that may never come to light.

How would Vissenta respond to this, or to that? Might she enjoy the use of a firm paddle, or even a flexible crop, certain to leave beautiful rouged stripes on the skin? Or would that be too much? (Somehow Jinana doubts it.) There are hundreds of ways a clever magician might inflict pleasure and pain, and a thousand variations thereof.

Hir own hands travel leisurely over hir body as hir mind wanders amongst the possibilities. Though the dominance and the control provide a pleasure all their own, satisfying a different need, one even more desirable to hir than the mere pleasure of the body… s/he is not without needs of hir own.

For someone who enjoys providing a panoply of well-honed magical experiences to the discerning submissive, hir own tastes are relatively simple. For all of the games of endurance and overload s/he enjoys playing with others, it is rather easy to overstimulate hir, to overstep the boundary from pleasure to discomfort; this is part of why s/he so often withholds hir own pleasure from others.

It’s easy enough to control the temperature of hir own fingertips, a chilly, pleasurable little shock as they brush over hir own nipples, bringing them instantly hard. Idly, s/he thinks of the many ways s/he might tease and torment Vissenta’s - a more ideal balance of sensitivity than hir own, able to take more, perhaps even some lovely clamps. The idea of leading her by a chain clamped to her nipples, directing her with gentle little tugs, is very appealing, and Jinana spends some time considering this while hir fingertips trace slowly over hir own skin.

Yes, hands bound and perhaps blindfolded once more, reliant on the pleasure-pain of the clamped chain to guide her... perhaps with her ankles bound, too, leaving only her desperate mouth free. How eager would she be to use it?

The thought is a fine one, and Jinana’s hands stray down between hir thighs, with the same skill that brought Vissenta to peak after peak at the garden party - but with less urgency, a dreamy leisure as hir mind conjures a parade of possibilities. It rises and ebbs, then rises again, until s/he allows it to roll through hir body, hir hips lifting from the bed in release.

S/he sinks back against the coverlet, letting hir breathing slow once again, relaxing in the pleasant tingling of hir limbs post-orgasm. Such dreams may never come to pass, but s/he supposes that it does not hurt to be prepared.

If Vissenta so wishes, Jinana will guide her through the other side of this world, as if through the hidden side of the moon. Of course, it will be different; this is not like Calum, or the other submissives s/he so carefully keeps in their well-defined place, showing them only that which they desire from hir. S/he knows that Vissenta will not stand for that, knowing hir too well, knowing hir outside of the role.

The idea is, perhaps, a little frightening in its scope, even as it brings a new sort of excitement. Jinana firmly reminds hirself that it is not certain, that tomorrow night they may meet up at the Raven as usual, drinking as usual, ending the evening as usual, with nothing more passing between them. And if so… that is Vissenta’s right, and her choice. Their friendship will continue whether or not she chooses to pursue this other type of relationship; Jinana will not permit any feelings of hir own to dim that hard-won rapport, cupped like a diya in hir hands, in hir heart. 

If the thought that Vissenta might not want to pursue this brings a twinge of disappointment, or perhaps something more painful, something Jinana does not care to examine too closely… that is hir own concern.

S/he sighs and climbs under the covers, rolling onto hir side. Something suddenly pushes down the mattress - Anjali, climbing up onto the other side of the bed, as is her wont. A warm, substantial weight arrives up against Jinana’s back as the sand lynx settles in, curling into a large ball.

Tomorrow is its own day, and the night will bring its own answers.

[the-iron-orchid]

A helpful shitpost shipping chart for those who are new here, or just confused by the sheer volume of bullshit coming from me, @vissentasenadz and @devoraqs 😂

Vissacha (Vissenta x Alexander): THEM. The OG Cruiseliner Ship. Spawner of a Thousand AUs.

Visachra (Vissenta x Alexander x Asra): Never meme about ships, it will destroy ur life

Jinacha (Jinana x Alexander): The Little Tugboat That Could. We workin on it lmao

Jinilyacha? (Jinana x Alexander x Julian, aka Sacha Sandwich): Entirely theoretical, but also? Destroy That Man. Julian ‘Fruit On The Bottom’ Devorak strikes again

Jissana (Jinana x Vissenta): Top on Top Brainrot got us actin Unwise

Jissacha (Jinana x Vissenta x Alexander, aka Alchemy and Chill): Never Meme About Ships, Part Deux. Theoretical, but we feel the Power of Satan inside of us 😈😈😈

[the-iron-orchid]

Hand holds 37: not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

For Jissana :3

(a short fluff fill, I said and then almost 600 words later)

---

"I won't lie... sometimes I come down here just to let off steam. It's better than letting my magic get out to rattle all the windows or send small objects flying around, right?"

The Arcane Furnace in the basement of the Scarab and Lotus resembles nothing so much as a huge iron stove, its outer shell thick with inlaid sigils of various precious metals and stones. But instead of logs or other combustibles, within its belly lies a large cluster of glowing crystals. Each is at least the size of Jinana's own forearm, all of them dancing with a steady, synchronized pulse of shifting colors.

"It doesn't actually burn anything, of course - it collects and transforms magical energy, ambient or contributed, into something we can use to power the shop's systems. And if there is one thing I have in abundance... well." Jinana gives a wry little smile. "Do you want to experience the process? It's quite safe." S/he holds out hir right hand with a questioning lift of hir brows.

Vissenta knows a challenge when she hears one. She takes Jinana's hand without hesitation. "Let's see it!"

Jinana smiles. "Place your other hand on the outside of the Furnace... this may tingle a bit." S/he places hir own left hand upon the outer shell of the Arcane Furnace. As always, it feels warm, pulsing, alive.

A deep, slow breath, and s/he nudges that inner gate open, the one that holds back the churning Chaos of hir true being. Just a crack, just enough to let it begin to flow...

S/he hears Vissenta give a soft gasp, feeling that current pass by her, looping through her. All of the sigils on the outer shell trace themselves with heatless white fire; the inner bank of crystals glows more fiercely, then begins to coruscate with every color in the spectrum, and a few outside of it, more felt than seen.

The outflow of hir magic is a pleasant drawing sensation - not a sense of depletion, but of expansion, of letting go, water poured gently from an overfull cup. After a few seconds, Jinana closes that gateway again, the primal megaflow held in check by hir will alone.

Vissenta has seen this power, even felt it before; even so, her eyes are wide as she watches the Arcane Furnace assimilate what it has been fed, the wild, erratic fluctuations of color and light slowly becoming steady and harmonious once again. It is, however, perceptibly brighter than it was before.

“It’s beautiful,” she says.

“Kind of hypnotic, isn’t it? A non-magician would see nothing but white light; only we can see all of the colors that it puts out.”

“Ah, holding hands in the light of the Arcane Furnace… how romantic.” The new voice startles the two of them apart - Heron, descending into the basement with a crate propped on one hip. “It is very pretty, isn’t it?”

“I was just showing Vis how it lights up when I add my energy to it,” Jinana laughs, hoping that the blood in hir cheeks isn’t too obvious. 

“Of course,” he says, mildly as ever. “By the way, I do believe this is yours… both of yours. I found him scratching at the shop window.” Heron lifts his free hand, and a large and very familiar horned beetle takes flight, only to land on Jinana’s shoulder, fanning its antennae.

“Perhaps you should give him a name.”

[the-iron-orchid]

For Jissana, touch #17: holding the other’s chin up? 😏

🍋🔞 Smuterday has arrived!

[ Touches Asks ]

Warnings: D/s dynamic, kink musings, bondage, nip play, temperature play, biting/marking, naughty magic hand, magic digital penetration so the usual ~630 words

MINORS DNI

---

While the first few encounters with a new partner have the wonderful luster of novelty to them, Jinana’s true enjoyment begins to surface once s/he starts to understand them. There is a rhythm and a poetry to every body that comes under hir command; there are unique keys to submission for every mind that gives itself over to hir.

S/he has begun to know just what it is that unlocks the gate for Vissenta, what allows her to slip through to the other side… and what will drag her down like a riptide, drowning.

S/he delights in keeping her just at the edge of that place, watching her formidable will struggle against her own desire to slip away under Jinana’s words and actions. S/he has begun to know the tells now, the more subtle signs that herald the slide to surrender.

And right now, it is a struggle indeed. 

The chair in Jinana’s bedroom was made to hir specifications, and when it is not covered in the clothing s/he can’t be troubled to replace in hir armoire, its padded leather back can be rotated and secured in various ways. Several of the brass ornaments act to conceal sturdy attachment points. Vissenta is currently bent over this transforming chair, her arms bound behind her back in a harness of lovely purple cords. Her legs are secured to the legs of the chair, spread just enough that she cannot avoid the attentions of Jinana’s spectral third hand - enough to keep her squirming with excitement, not quite enough to push her to climax.

The edge of the chair-back rests just below her breasts, leaving them and the perked pink nipples vulnerable to Jinana’s whims. The surface of the skin is already decorated here and there with the marks of hir mouth and teeth.

S/he divides hir attention in the way that Master Borgia once taught hir - though most certainly not for this use - and causes hir fingertips to become magically chill, while still maintaining the ghostly hand that strokes so tormentingly. S/he touches hir fingertips to the swollen nipples, and Vissenta’s body jerks, her hips giving a brief, hard buck. Another touch, slowly circling, and her eyelids begin to flutter faintly - a tell.

Jinana lifts her chin in hir icy fingers, forcing Vis to look up at hir. “Stay with me,” s/he says, hir voice firm, unyielding.

With a visible effort of will, Vissenta drags herself back, her serpentine-green eyes clearing as they lock with Jinana’s.

“There’s my good girl.” This is perhaps unfair; Vis’ entire body shudders, but still she manages to stay out of the whirlpool that threatens to pull her down. Jinana smiles, bestowing a gentle kiss on her trembling lips.

S/he has not quite gotten Vissenta to beg, not yet. To ask, yes, even to plead a little - but s/he is confident that s/he will uncover the key to this, too. And when s/he does, s/he will hold it safe with all of the other keys, all of the parts of Vissenta’s being that s/he has uncovered, and will yet uncover, for as long as she permits.

The fingers of the conjured hand cease their stroking and slowly push their way into Vis’ body, eliciting a throaty moan of need; as they begin to move, and Jinana’s own fingertips once more begin to apply those brief touches of shocking cold to her nipples, the wave once more threatens to bring her under.

“Go on, madhubala,” s/he murmurs. “My sweet girl.” With a soft sigh, almost of relief, Vissenta’s body relaxes, receptive, ready for the next stage of their play.

Jinana has not quite gotten her to beg, not yet. But s/he will.

[the-iron-orchid]

Vissenta steps through the door, gift in hand. “Just something to hang up on the wall,” she says as she presents the wooden frame. It’s a shadow box of sorts, and in the shallow space between the back and the frame, colored threads are strung and knotted, much like a spiderweb. Abstract in appearance at first, the colors shift when she plucks a series of strings, and a picture resolves itself: a beetle, of course, and as the colors continue to shift, its legs seem to move. “Those gem powders turned out to make a great dye.”

When she hands the piece to Jinana, she leans forward to give hir a peck on the cheek. “And that’s for your birthday, too.”

Jinana smiles and drops a sly little wink, then turns hir attention to the shadow box. Hir eyes widen as the colors shift and ripple and the image reveals itself. "Oh, it's beautiful!" S/he laughs aloud in delight, watching the illusion of movement take form.

"Heron, come look at this!" With his own knowledge of magical dyes and weaves, it is certain to interest him just as much as the visual effect fascinates hir.

Jinana leans in close, with the faintest brush of hir lips against the shell of Vissenta's ear. "Thank you, madhu," s/he murmurs, for her hearing alone. "I love it."

[the-iron-orchid]

Yeah and perhaps kiss #17 for Jissana (kisses as a promise)

Have a short lil snippet (post 🍋You Know What I Need) :3

Warnings: discussion of kink dynamics. 350 words.

---

The Dom/me makes the scene.

Such words might seem ironic, coming from someone as given to beautiful excess as Evander Murena, but the truth of them has stayed with Jinana all of these years.

They are particularly accurate now, here in the humble flat that Vissenta calls her own, small and comfortably untidy. There are no grand setpieces here, no extravagant costumes. Vis is clad in only a simple robe; Jinana wears hir typical outfit for a night at the Raven - knitted camisole, plain linen skirt. Instead of the finest fruits and wines and hot and cold running attendants, they have a plate with a few sweetmeats and tea served by hir Unseen Servant spell.

The magical force has now been set to cleaning dishes - a thankless task if ever there were one. The sound of plashing water is oddly soothing. Anjali snores softly nearby, curled into a large fuzzy ball with her tufted tail over her nose. The whole ambience is… peaceful. Familiar. Comfortable.

S/he was intensely curious to see if Vissenta would still be able to find that place inside of herself, to hand over her personal power without the spectacle and the pervasive mood of one of Evander’s special events. It seems that she can… and that she is interested in exploring this place further. 

The way the mind tends to be wiped clean of its troubles for a short time afterward has its own seductive quality, of course.

“What are you thinking about?” Vis’ voice is low and husky, soothed; her head rests against Jinana’s shoulder. S/he smiles down at her.

“A few things you may enjoy in the future,” s/he chuckles. “There are so, so many ways to provide a little impact play… and even more ways to restrain.” A faint flush rises across Vis’ cheeks, despite her sated state.

“Mmm, promise?” There’s a playful, even a coquettish quality to this, and Jinana laughs before pressing a kiss to her forehead, then to her lips.

“If you wish it. The choice is always yours. That I do promise.”

[the-iron-orchid]

Masterpost: Alchemy and Chill (Jissacha)

Or, “Never meme about ships, kids, it’ll ruin your life.”

Note: This timeline branches off of The Wheel of Life and Death/Jissana timeline.

Writing:

Set Alight (by @vissentasenadz )

Hands (prompt)

🍋 Head is Full of Magic (by @vissentasenadz​ )

Art:

We Saw You From Across the Bar… (by @vissentasenadz )

Two Switches (Detail) (by @vissentasenadz )

After the Club

[the-iron-orchid]

Here’s The List of Jinana’s Birthday Renderpalooza requests so far, for folks who are worried about duplicating requests!

(No LIs yet, but Jissana is leading the pack lol)

E1 Turel

F2 Jissana

F4 Miz (goth)

G6 Miloš (goth)

E6 Ell

D6 Marcus Aquila

F5 Tsedi (sci-fi)

D3 Valerius (lmaoooo)

C5 Jissana (truly the Power Couple)

G2 Heron (modern casual)

F2 Portia

D5 Jissana

[the-iron-orchid]

De Profundis

Characters: Jinana/Vissenta, ~2000 words

Synopsis: An innocent day-trip into the forest leads to an unexpected conflict, and profound revelations for Jinana and Vissenta.

Warnings: Violence, blood/injury, potential body horror, bug death spoiler: he gets better

-----

“Oh, look at you. You’re never going to find a girlfriend here.” 

A large horned beetle clings to the stuccoed wall, its carapace gleaming with shifting shades of phantom green and blue. Jinana plucks it from its perch, admiring it in the late morning light.

“You’re a fine, big boy, aren’t you?” Indeed, the creature is easily the length of hir palm. Jinana shows the beetle to Vissenta before tucking it away in a pocket of hir skirt, along with a bit of dried apricot from hir bag. “You just stay there for a bit. We’ll take you back to the forest so you can show off your beetle-battling skills for the ladies.”

Vis gives hir a curious look, though it is far from the first time she has seen Jinana scoop up an errant insect. Still, she says nothing about it, and they continue their trek out of the city.

Jinana always relishes time spent wildcrafting and foraging. There is a freedom in the deep, dense shade of the trees, with only the beings of the forest for company… and, perhaps, a chosen companion.

The forest does have its hazards, but s/he’s certain that Vis can handle herself; there are always blades on her person. (Jinana does not question how, or where.) Anjali’s presence, too, makes them safer. In the worst case… there is always hir magic.

S/he hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Cutting through the northernmost part of Center City, they cross over one of the many arched bridges that span the waterway that surrounds Vesuvia proper. From there, it is a short walk to the city walls, and one of the gates to the outside world.

The autumn-golden grasses and cheerful wildflowers quickly give way to the sea of trees, the fall sunlight dappled on the leaf-littered ground. As always, the forest is alive with the sounds of its creatures, the hum of insects and the vocalizations of animals. One must walk with care, heedful of the many roots ready to catch a careless foot.

“You know,” Jinana says, “when Heron and I were young apprentices, we decided it would be a great idea to try and wildcraft some of the components for our lessons. Predictably, we ended up lost in here for almost two whole days. Imagine, a couple of hapless twelve-year-olds with hardly more than a cantrip to our names… and during the cold and rainy season at that.”

Vis raises her brows. “How did you get out?”

“Master Borgia found us, eventually.” This is entirely true. “Nearly gave the poor man a heart attack, I’m sure - we were forbidden from setting foot off his estate without supervision for an entire month afterward.” S/he laughs. “Fortunately, I’m much better at navigating the forest now.”

There is another part to this story, so strange that Jinana hirself is unsure if it is memory or dream, the product of a fearful child’s mind. But that is a story for another time, if at all.

It’s easy enough to gather plenty of greens and several culinary herbs that don’t grow in Heron’s greenhouse; there are even some grapes growing in a sunny patch. These are fragrant but mouth-puckeringly tart, causing them to laugh at the faces they make on sampling them.

Finally, in a small clearing surrounded by deep forest, they find what they truly came for - silverbloom valerian, a rare and magical variety that can only grow in such wild places. In the shade of the great trees, its tiny white blooms shed a soft effulgence and a faint, sweet scent. Anjali sniffs at them, and Jinana feels a mild, secondhand euphoria rise up in the back of hir brain.

“Anjali, no.” The sand lynx diverts her roll at the last moment, managing not to crush the plants. “You ridiculous creature.” Anjali wriggles on her back, showing her spotted belly.

“Forgot about its effect on felines, hm?” Vis grins and produces a small gathering knife, bending to start harvesting the plants.

“I do forget that this thing is just an overgrown housecat sometimes.” Jinana nudges Anjali with hir foot; the lynx swats lazily at hir sandal.

They collect flower stalks and roots, careful to leave enough that the patch can continue to propagate. Jinana wrinkles hir nose at the unlovely scent of the roots, very different from that of the flowers. “Ugh, smells like sweaty feet.”

“It’s not my favorite, no,” Vis answers. “And it’ll be attracting stray cats the whole time it dries, too.”

“Oh! I haven’t shown you the herb drying cabinet, have I? It really comes in -” Anjali leaps to her feet, growling as a sudden, terrible sound cuts through the forest. Two fighting blades have appeared in Vissenta’s hands before she even completes her turn to look for the source.

“What the fuck was that?” Vis hisses softly, serpentine-green eyes scanning the trees around them. Jinana shakes hir head.

“I don’t know,” s/he answers, just as quietly. The awful sound comes again, an unholy amalgamation of the warning bark of a deer and the shriek of a bird of prey, and the rest of the forest has gone silent in a way that makes ice seem to crystallize along hir spine.

There is a great crashing, tree limbs creaking and snapping, then heavy hoofbeats, rapidly closing in. Even as Vis and Jinana fall back, considering flight of their own, a massive shape bursts into the clearing, driving something before it, something almost glowing white that it shoves backward with slashing hooves.

Without conscious thought, Jinana interposes hirself between the oncoming white blur and Vissenta, conjuring hir shielding spell. S/he grunts as the heavy impact shoves hir backward, stumbling, falling -

S/he fetches up against another body, and a pair of arms that encircle hir waist, pulling hir back and away from the skirmish as the large, dark figure rears up again. It resembles a stag, but far larger - and as it rises, a pair of vast wings unfurl from its back.

A peryton. Jinana knows it at once.

Its opponent has the stature of a man - but the fur, head and hooves of a goat, its eyes burning red as coals in the murky half-light. It skips nimbly aside from the assault, and now Jinana can see that where its left arm should be, there is only a mass of writhing shadow. It raises this non-arm, dark tendrils lashing out and scoring the peryton along its greenish hide, adding to countless other lash-marks and a clawed gash. Scarlet drops patter to the ground as the peryton once again gives that unearthly cry, going to its knees as its forelegs buckle in agony.

Vissenta is desperately trying to drag Jinana to safety, but the wild magic is roiling inside of hir now, responding to the threat before them… and to a debt twenty years in the past. 

“Step back,” s/he murmurs. “Please.”

S/he feels Vissenta hesitate, then the arms release hir. The goat-thing spares hir only a brief, malevolent glance as s/he steps forward. This is the thing that is unnatural, like a cancer in hir magical sight, wreathed in a miasmic aura of wrongness.

Once again, it raises the thing that has taken the place of its arm, the greedy black tendrils whipping forward -

And Jinana lets loose the leash on hir power, opening the floodgates of chaos. 

It is more than a rush, very nearly an ecstasy as searing light pours forth from the chakras of hir body in a flood of raw magic. The goat creature doesn’t even have time to scream as the mass of energy engulfs it, unmaking it, destroying it.

As the afterimage begins to clear from hir eyes, something insubstantial seems to flit away through the trees with a thin enraged shrieking, as if heard from a great distance. 

And then it is gone, leaving only the heaving, bleeding peryton and a drift of fine grey dust in the clearing.

“Jinana - “ Vissenta is interrupted by the arrival of another figure, that of a hulking man, his scarred chest and arms striped with fresh wounds similar to what the peryton has suffered.

“Where is Lucio?” he demands, his voice gruff and deep.

“Lucio?”

“The goat.”

Jinana points mutely to the pile of dust. The man scowls at it, then immediately turns to the wounded peryton. 

“You should go,” he says.

“But your wounds -” s/he begins.

“Go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Vissenta mutters, and takes Jinana’s elbow, steering hir back the way they came. Anjali herds hir along from the other side. With the aftereffects of channeling such a large amount of magical energy still buzzing in hir blood, Jinana cannot find it in hirself to argue.

When the clearing is well out of sight, the two of them sit down heavily upon a fallen log. For a moment, neither says anything. Anjali slinks up alongside, resting her chin on Jinana’s knee.

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve seen a peryton in the flesh, so chalk that one up as a new experience,” Vis says wryly, and Jinana gives a short chuckle. “But what the hell was that goat-thing?”

“Who knows?” Jinana frowns. A name wants to associate itself with the goat creature, but where s/he might have heard such a thing, s/he cannot recall; the same mild confusion is reflected on Vis’s face. How strange.

There is something else in Vissenta’s expression, the many questions she no doubt has about what they just witnessed… and what Jinana just did.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“I… yes. It takes a bit out of me, but I’ll recover.”

“A bit.” There is a dry humor to this, a mildly sardonic arch to her brows… but only these things.

No fear, and no censure.

Recollection comes to hir, and Jinana digs hurriedly in hir skirt pocket. S/he withdraws the horned beetle - only to find it unmoving, its tough carapace partially crushed. It must have come to harm when s/he crashed into Vis, or when the goat creature slammed into hir shielding spell, slamming the magical barrier against hir own body in turn.

“Oh, no.” S/he summons a healing energy, to no avail - the carapace reforms itself, but the creature otherwise remains as it is, articulated legs curled to its abdomen in death. “No, no, no.” Hir eyes sting with sudden, ridiculous tears. It is only a beetle, destined to live but briefly - cut short, because of hir.

Vis stares at hir for a moment, then seems to come to some kind of inner decision. “Let me see?”

Jinana holds the beetle out to her, outwardly perfect but no longer with the spark of life in it. Vissenta cups her own hands around Jinana’s, concentrating, and something seems to condense, to pass between.

S/he feels the faintest twitch against hir palm, then another… then a light scrabbling, as the insect slowly rights itself, turning around in hir hand. Jinana stares at it, wide-eyed, unheeding of the lone tear that slips down hir cheek as the beetle’s antennae fan out, alive.

Alive.

Vissenta is watching hir face carefully, even guardedly, and no wonder. Just as Jinana’s recent actions have revealed a capability that few can understand, a connection to ancient and ineffable forces… so have hers. 

Several things fall into place, pieces of a larger puzzle, hints of a greater secret. Even as Jinana hirself is inextricably linked to the primal chaos of creation, Vissenta must be linked to something just as profound, the forces that govern life and death.

No wonder she is not afraid.

The beetle lifts its elytra and takes noisy flight, only to alight upon Jinana’s shoulder, and s/he smiles. Vis’ tense expression begins to relax.

“Let’s go back,” Jinana says, wiping at hir face. “I’ll show you the drying cabinet - no more stray cats after your valerian.”

Vissenta lifts her brows, then gives a small smile in turn. “I think I’d like that very much.”

[the-iron-orchid]

Masterpost: The Wheel of Life and Death (Jissana)

Writing: Prompts

Touches: Patting On the Head

Drunken Confessions: What Makes You Hate

Drunken Confessions: Running Away

Drunken Confessions: Do You Get Scared

Drunken Confessions: Judgment

“Want me to model it for you?”

🍋 There Are So Many Things I Want To Do (by @vissentasenadz ​)

Touches: Dancing With Hands Holding On (by @vissentasenadz ​)

Holding Hands

Running Through the Rain (by @vissentasenadz ​)

🔞Kisses: As a Promise

Holding Hands: Across the Table  (by @vissentasenadz ​)

🍋 Touches: Holding the Other’s Chin Up

Writing: Timeline

The Truth Lies In Between (by @vissentasenadz​ )

Think About It

Here’s your Chance (by @vissentasenadz ​)

De Profundis

Coda: Observaveris (by @vissentasenadz​ )

Epilogue: Mysterium

🔞Transfixed By the Inner Sound (by @vissentasenadz ​)

🍋 Your Promise to be Found

🍋 Conquest of Spaces (by @luasworkshop )

🔞 Give Me My Self Again  (by @vissentasenadz ​)

🍋 The Flame You Hold

🍋 You Know What I Need (by @vissentasenadz ​)

Artworks

Two Tops Stare You Down (by @vissentasenadz​)

Things That Should Do You A Concern

Henna (by @vissentasenadz​)

Get Got  (by @vissentasenadz​)

Surrender (by @vissentasenadz​)

Birthday Hugs

Birthday Dance 1

Birthday Dance 2

At the Club

We Saw You From Across the Bar... (by @vissentasenadz ft. Sacha @devoraqs )

[the-iron-orchid]

aheemhem. "want me to model these for you?" for Jissana?

(Hm, ok this maybe got a lil out of hand... just Tension tho, no actual 🍋, 780 words)

---

Heron’s process of fabrication is quite magical, both literally and figuratively. The initial draping is always like something out of a fairytale - he and Jinana winding a length of silk around Vissenta’s body, only for it to conform and pleat itself into a bodice; another, longer piece of fabric splitting itself into gauzy skirt-panels that bind their own raw edges. Bits of golden trim snake their way around the garment, tacking themselves into place. Even during the initial fitting, Jinana can see that it is going to be very flattering.

Heron knows what he is doing; tailoring is the other family business.

It is the work of a couple more evenings for the two of them to complete the embellishments on the dress - each panel of the skirt graced by a curling peacock feather, delicately painted onto the silk and enhanced with a sprinkling of sparkling rhinestones. The bodice, now boned to keep its shape, sports a very fine beaded applique (courtesy of Evander’s artisans) and is fully lined for comfort and strength - some exertion is expected. 

This is one of Evander’s parties, after all.

“Heron will be here shortly; he’s just picking some things up,” Jinana explains, as Vissenta sweeps into the shop. “Let’s get the dress back on you, and see how it fits!”

There is something in Vis’s face, perhaps expectation, as they descend into the workspace below the shop itself. Her eyes widen slightly as she spots the dress, lying across the worktable like a swooned princess.

“All that in two days? Damn. Have you two gotten any sleep?”

“Oh, absolutely! It goes very quickly when magic is on your side.” Jinana drops a small wink.

S/he busies hirself with bringing out the coordinating sandals in their ribboned box while Vissenta strips down - though she seems entirely lacking in self-consciousness about it, it’s impolite to ogle.

“Here, I’ll do up the back. Just tell me if I’m lacing you too tightly - we’re going for cleavage here, not bondage.”

They both laugh, though a very faint pinkness appears around Vis’ cheeks. Admittedly, it’s difficult not to be put in mind of the latter as Jinana pulls the cording taut, nipping in her waist and causing her to straighten her shoulders.

“How are you doing?” s/he asks. “Still breathing?”

“I can take more,” Vissenta assures hir.

Obligingly, Jinana tightens the lacing further, watching even more of Vis’ waist seemingly disappear, further enhancing the curvaceous shape of her hips and backside.

“And this?”

“I think that’s good… I do want to leave some room for a drink or two,” Vis laughs, then turns her head to look at Jinana over her shoulder, arching a brow. “Want me to model it for you?”

Jinana grins. “By all means. Here, try these as well.” S/he assists Vis to slip her feet into the sandals, also courtesy of Evander’s artisans.

Vissenta walks the length of the workshop, hips swaying, the diaphanous panels of the skirt alternately revealing her legs as she moves, in the front all the way up to the hip. She turns, the panels swirling around her, then struts back to Jinana. The bodice pushes her breasts high and full, and the cleavage on display is nothing short of hypnotic.

Jinana smiles. “Perfect. I can’t wait to see the full effect, it’s going to be absolutely stunning. Partygoers will drop at twenty paces. Calum may never recover.”

Again they laugh, but again that light flush has arisen in Vissenta’s cheeks, and Jinana wonders at it. But then, like hirself, Vissenta tends to the practical in her day to day clothing choices. Perhaps she’s just unused to being seen in something like this, designed expressly to titillate.

Jinana checks the fit of the dress again after movement, slipping a fingertip just inside the back panels to make sure they haven’t gained any slack, and light goosebumps break out over Vis’ arms. “Oh, sorry, did I tickle you?”

“...a little bit.” Vissenta’s voice sounds a tad strange, but before Jinana can inquire, Heron appears at the steps leading down from above.

“Ah, there you are,” he says, giving a polite smile as he descends. “I’m glad to see that the dress fits you very well.”

“Isn’t it great?” Jinana urges Vis to turn, displaying it from all angles. “And the sandals fit, too. All that’s left is the jewelry.”

“Right here.” Heron shows them the slim boxes he carries. “Do you want to try them, as well?”

Vis presses her lips together, thinking. “Well, everything has been perfect so far.” She gives Jinana a sidelong glance. “Let’s keep a little mystery for the big night, shall we?”