Methuseld's tune had -indeed- changed, and Donovan found that immediately fishy. She had went from threatening him and Dean and wanting to return to her beloved Vizier's side, to wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Maybe she just didn't know -what- the hell she really wanted (except the damned sword she kept going on about), and perhaps this had been her first real chance to analyze such things. If the stories were true, Methuseld WAS the vizier's pet, and was rarely far from his side. This might very well have been the longest she'd been away from the Vizier's control, for all he knew.<br/><br/>The ship's sudden change had caught both of them off guard for a moment, and for the briefest of moments Donovan thought it might be some trick brought upon him by Methuseld herself, but she seemed just as taken aback as he was. Donovan wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he had a pretty good idea who likely would, and quickly he turned and darted for the stairs going up to the top deck... stairs that seemed to stretch further and further away the harder he tried to reach them. The short hallway that should have allowed them to reach the first step seemed to stretch on forever as he dashed down it, sensing and feeling Methuseld behind him.<br/><br/>She caught up with him easily enough, but it seemed as if they ran for many minutes without making real headway. Glancing to the side, Donovan noticed as Methuseld did that various images and paintings lined the walls. Some of those images -moved-, as if they had captured a scene from the past - or the future. The 'artwork' ranged from gory demonic battles to odd pictures of flowers and reindeer.<br/><br/>Then they burst into another -room-, a room that did not exist on the boat that Donovan and Dean owned, and this room was filled with children... Donovan recognized it immediately, and for a moment he almost hesitated, seeing himself across the room, hiding in a corner... eight years old. A woman was approaching him, smiling warmly, trying to lure him out of the corner...<br/><br/><em>Mother...</em><br/><br/>Donovan forced himself onward, reminding himself this was just a trick, a false image, and he plunged into the next room, glancing back only a moment to see Methuseld close on his heels.... and the next room was even more... interesting.<br/><br/>Off to the side, Methuseld lay on a bed, and copies of Dean and Donovan were thoroughly enjoying her in various carnal ways, seemingly shifting and moving to take her two-at-a-time in a variety of ways. Donovan's hand fisted in her hair, guiding her head back and forth, up and down his thick shaft, while Dean took her from behind, two shadow-cocks filling both orifices with ease, six shadow hands groping her breasts, her ass, her hips....<br/><br/><em>-Fucking show-off-</em>, the 'fake' Donovan growled at the 'fake' Dean, but both men were smiling, obviously enjoying the general quite thoroughly. This image -<em>did</em>- cause Donovan to almost -trip-, catching himself only at the last second, the act of almost face-planting on the warped wooden planks of the floor giving him a quick wake-up, allowing him to press on and to refocus...<br/><br/>Perhaps these images were simply meant to slow them down, to lure them into a web of transformative magic that would spell their doom... Or perhaps these images were simply a manifestation of various deeply-held desires... which caused him to wonder just what -else- the sweet general might be thinking...<br/><br/>There! The door up ahead... it looked as though it would empty the two of them out onto the ship's main deck. Donovan was almost disappointed when it did, as he skidded to a halt as he passed through it, standing on the ships main deck which was -massive- at this point. His eyes searched and he found Dean, and Donovan's eyes widened. Where was Aza? Was she ok? And Dean...<em>Gods above..</em>..<br/><br/>"DEAN!" Donovan shouted. "STOP! You have to stop! Resist, you crazy bastard! RESIST!!!!!!"<br/><br/>