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To see into the world of the Domin is a gift.
Kibellah serves Domin'Nora well, as she did her predecessor, before Domin'Theodora left to tread her path to the Throne of the Undying One. As it was then, so it is now; she is Nora von Valancius' shield and shadow and blade, the thread tying them together made thicker, stronger by the Ritual of Binding. Her Domin's presence is with her, within and without.
However, there are several aspects to Domin'Nora's existence that she does not yet comprehend. So, she seeks their meaning when and where she can.
One such tangle is wrought by the smuggler, Jae Heydari. Domin'Nora lends her, above all others, all that she has; her ear, her time, her favour—and her wealth. An offer to cut out her tongue was refused. Kibellah cannot parse why. Vil'Jae takes too much, is too bold, is all vice and disrespect and does not know her place.
Kibellah sees how her Domin changes, though, when the two are together. It's subtle, like a whisper, and Domin'Nora thinks she hides it, but her shadow sees. How she lightens, softens, hard edges smoothed away.
She can hear them, now, from where she stands guard in her Domin's quarters, in a corner made of shadows.
Not every word is clear, but enough of their conversation filters through that she can at least partially follow its thread. Vil'Jae is the louder of the two, of course, and talks more often, all honeyed speech and promises. This is how it always is. Domin'Nora's voice is quieter, a low rasp made grittier still by the alcohol and lho they are consuming—and it is to that anchor that Kibellah tries to tie her focus.
But it wanders.
There are sounds too, as well as words; laughter, the clink of a glass, the periodic snap of a lighter, the chime of her Domin's data-slate. Boots removed and dropped to the floor, the rustle of fabric as they adjust their positions on the large chaise that Kibellah knows they will be sitting on.
And then there are less words, and more sounds, sounds that tell her it is time to move further away and give them their privacy.
That is the path she would normally take.
Tonight, however, she finds her curiosity choosing another.
Leaving her position, Kibellah moves closer, steps as soft and quiet as she can make them. It is not difficult to move like this, silent as a shadow. A skill long since taught, and honed. She reaches the door to the bedchamber, but does not look inside just yet. Instead she presses her back to the adjoining wall, closes her eyes, and listens.
It is different, being so close to them now, as she is.
Of course, she has heard them come together in this way before, several steps removed through the crackle of a vox—as has the voidship entire. She recalls the morning after on the bridge, when, confronted with the reality of Vil'Jae's baseness, her Domin had simply laughed. The reaction confused her, at first.
Indulging in carnal love, in revelation of the flesh, is not encouraged by the Web—but neither is it forbidden. As such, she is familiar with sounds like the ones she hears now. Lips pressing together in heated earnest, mingled breath and tongue, the eager, questing press of hands over bedsheets and bare skin. A stifled moan, shared and captured by another's mouth. She splays the fingers of her own hands against the wall behind her, presses the tips in harder with every exhale and every gasp.
"Come here" she hears Domin'Nora say, her voice thick, its usual steadiness wavering. A quality it takes on only in moments akin to this, Kibellah has found—and for one member of the retinue in particular.
A warm, throaty chuckle, and the sound of movement, of skin sliding against sheets. "Are you ordering me around so soon, beloved?"
"I promise I'll make it worth your while."
"Oh. I am sure that you will."
It is then that Kibellah decides she wishes to see.
It is simple to turn, move a little to the side. It is simpler still to lean around the thick pillar of the ornate doorway, enough to allow a view of the scene before her. Once more, she is careful to make no sound of her own.
The light in the room is low, but she takes in the details nevertheless. Her eyes fall on the chaise first, to the purple coat slung over the back of it, to the cushions in disarray, to the green glow of an abandoned data-slate. A half-empty glass sits on the floor next to a pair of boots and a gold belt with an aquila buckle. From there she follows the trail of discarded clothing—shirts, and other pieces—to the large bed where her Domin usually takes her rest.
Although, this time, she is not alone.
Nora lies on her back, and Jae is positioned over her, knees on either side of Nora's head, her back to the door and thus to their watcher. Nora's hands grasp Jae's hips, pulling her down and forward. Jae inhales suddenly, sharply, and then mutters something in her native language that Kibellah cannot make out.
She wonders if Domin'Nora knows, if she understands, if the meaning of these strange words has been traded between them like everything else.
Nora's hands slip further to wrap around Jae's thighs, and Kibellah's gaze is drawn to the tattoos that decorate what she can see of her Domin's arms. She's been told the meaning of them all, one by one, their origins too—and that of the scar that slices the lowest one in two. An honour, savoured even now, as she watches her give her attention to another.
Jae begins to shift a little; a gentle rocking of her hips forward and back as she reaches down and threads the fingers of her right hand into Domin'Nora's golden hair. Kibellah thinks she hears Nora speak, or groan, but it's muffled and she cannot tell which. Jae moans and curses in answer, her augmented hand punching down into the pillows beside her.
"Yes…" she breathes.
Soon, the sounds of pleasure—now louder, richer—fill Kibellah's ears next to the thrum of her own pulse, and the spinner feels a pleasant heat bloom and coil low in her belly.
A thought pushes forward, then. She wonders why her Domin serves one such as Vil'Jae so ardently, when their roles should be reversed.
Perhaps, she considers, as she sees Jae's pace increase, as Nora's hold on Jae tightens, fingers pressing into the flesh of her hips and rear—that in this moment of serving, submitting, her Domin also exerts a kind of…control.
After a minute, maybe a little more, Jae's rhythm falters, then she shudders and cries out. A laugh escapes her, and it's melodic almost, even as she works to catch her breath. She starts to manoeuvre herself backwards, and Nora's fingers slip over her skin as she moves. Kibellah sees her Domin's face properly at last, sees the glistening wetness on it catch the candelight, sees her smile. Sees her hold her arms out for Jae, and receive her, pressing the full length of their bodies together.
In that moment, in the lull between—Kibellah decides that she has seen enough.
She slips away, as quietly as she arrived, and returns to the Temple to traverse the labyrinth with the new insight she has gained.