Things were going well, Dora found. Not only was she very much enjoying herself playing with Tristan’s thumbs, but the man did not seem to mind her doing so either. It was good. Very good in fact. She had a physical connection in place, so all she now needed to do was—
Quite suddenly, while Dora was lost in the moment, the Venoran Lord retracted his hands, causing the woman to snap her eyes wide open, uncertain at what had led to this action. Fortunately though, he just wanted to take charge himself, which was more than fine. It was excellent. He was playing right into her cards, without her having to do anything. Well, except having crafted this body that is. It had taken a long while, such a very long time for her to get all the necessary items together, to get all the necessary parts. Skin, blood and bone of many, many people. So many thumbs. But it had been worth it in the end. For it had allowed her to mix and match different parts of different people, creating a body for the task at hand.
Tristan Venora was but a small step on the social ladder, a stepping stone to the greater goal. A cog in the machine. She had done what she did best, blend in, change her face, her shape, her voice, her identity to quite literally become someone else so many times. She had followed Tristan for a while now, studying him. Observing him. Seeing inside his head. Gazing at that intricate weave of emotions swirling within his vain Venoran mind. Study his behavior, his day to day rhythm. His interactions with other people. But like the woman had said, she had not approached him. She had kept her distance, paranoid even though she had no reason to be.
It was only in her free time though, as she had a different life to lead apart from stalking the noble. She had a family who could not grow suspicious of her actions, whose name and face she needed to enter the right circles so she could climb even higher. As said, Tristan was but a step. The next step. Maybe one of the last she had to take. It was said he had gained the King’s interest. That the boy favored the young lord. If that was the case, than all she had to do was eliminate Tristan… or at least stuff him away someplace he would not be found. Not until her goal was reached. After all, the people would notice when a member of a major and important family went missing. Hunting for the right body parts, hair color and facial features was one thing; those were all people that could go missing without it causing a fuss, or without anyone caring. The upper echelons of society were different though. Small ripples made big waves there.
She smiled in bliss and satisfaction at both Tristan’s work with his thumbs, and her plan coming together finally. She was moaning again, she realized, louder than before. It made focusing harder than anticipated, but she did not mind. The fact he was doing this of his own volition was a good thing. She’d expected having to manipulate him during conversation, but only her body had been necessary. The best possible outcome. Well, given the time spent tracing the origins of Tristan’s lust and then finding people with those traits, it was only natural it would be. She had planned so long for this. Even now she was monitoring him, even while her eyes were closed and she guided one of his thumbs to her lips, where she started licking the appendage. Slowly, sensually. Not much later she had it in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down the thumb very much enjoying herself. In the meantime, she made sure to stealthily eliminate all traces of disgust the lord might feel in regards to her or her recent actions by knotting them away in the Tangle of his emotions. She embroidered thrill and excitement to it instead, gradually so it would seem he slowly began to enjoy her work himself too.
Not only that, but she had been nurturing his lust for a while now, ever since their skin had been touching, slowly and steadily increasing it with Strum. At one point it had merely been desire. Desire awoken by the body she’d crafted specifically for him, lust that had arisen from the man himself. To deepen it even more, she tied it to herself, making him fall deeper in her trap.
And it was a trap. One meticulously crafted, one that had taken seasons to develop and set up. One so intricate that neither the Mercenary nor the Lord had any idea they had not come here by accident. Yes, it was true that it had been a surprise that the two of them had shown up at her door this trial, but that was it. She’d known they’d come sooner or later. Or rather, she’d known Tristan would come. In hindsight, it was logical he’d take the merc with him as well. But that woman did not matter. Tristan did. His growing curiosity about her had led him to seek her out, and that curiosity had been planted in his mind by Dora herself. It had been secretly stuffed into his head, to remain there for a long time, only to gradually release more and more of it when someone would come to take his thumbs.
Naturally, the mercenary too had been implanted with a specific command. A desire to betray her clients. Something which was not out of character for the one-eyed woman anyway, so the chance of the manipulation being found out was minimal. As planned, when she came face to face with Tristan Venora, the idea of betraying her clients bubbled up. It had removed the usual desire of withholding information, making her spill both Dora’s name and her contract to the Lord without hesitation. In turn, Dora’s name had triggered more curiosity from Tristan, seeping into his mind without his notice. It was perfect. All according to plan.
There was little else standing in the way between her and Tristan’s thumbs. Only the mercenary who might interfere if Dora tried anything even remotely resembling a harmful action towards her client. On the other hand though, the woman cared little about others, and Dora had been strumming the snares of that selfishness also. Apathy too, as well as amplifying the greed of the woman. In Tristan she let irritation and annoyance manifest, which were tied towards the mercenary remaining in the room. There was also a subtle feeling of safety introduced, linked with Dora herself. She had to get the the merc out of the picture, and the best way to do so without either of them feeling like something was wrong, was by letting them think it was their decision. The illusion of choice. The perfect weapon of an empath.