It is nice to see that people can forgive, right? Forgive and forget, that is, because - even though some philosophers would disagree - the process of forgiveness between two closely bonded souls is one which is best expedited through the judicious use of memory. One could hardly be considered happy if she knew that those closest to her were constantly re-imagining the sins and mistakes of her past. Of course, forgiveness entails a degree of trust: trust that someone can change, learn and move forwards. I suspect that some change simply because they finally realise how ridiculous it is to expect the world to change for them. To be able to adapt to new environments, new lives, new relationships - these are the characteristics of truly successful life-forms. Sentients, I suspect are intelligent first and (cruel, kind, scholarly, empathic) second. Even the cruellest of beings knows when the time for wickedness is over because it is, first and foremost, an intelligent being. This is a lesson that many, and not only the cruellest of beings, need to learn.

 

                                                            The Archivist, your narrator

 

"Se vogliamo che tutto rimanga come e', bisogna che tutto cambi."

 

"You ready for your part of the deal?" Min said breathlessly, her sultry, crimson-red lips hungrily devouring Aerylle's.

 

"Naturally." The elven librarian answered, still somewhat unsure, but suitably stimulated by Min's attention and the wine.

Aerylle's bedchamber was twilit, with long shadows interspersed with the dull light of a single lamp placed on the windowsill. Min had her lover against the fine-grained wood of the chamber door, her hands exploring the subtle, slender curves of the elven girl's body, barely hidden beneath the smooth fabric of her evening robe. The heat of passion had been smouldering in them since they departed from Peryroyal's Tavern, Min's loins burning in anticipation at the thought of initiating Aerylle to yet another form of sensual pleasure. The petite elf was, however, infinitely surprising and no less so in the arts of love, as Min realised when she felt Aerylle's delicate, teasing fingers slide up her thighs and under her skirt, cupping the taut, but feminine curve of her bottom.

 

"You could say this is one advantage of wearing something more ladylike, Min," Aerylle said, her voice soft and coyly innocent, "easier access."

Min sighed as she felt Aerylle's finger gently part the moistened outer lips of her sex, the very tip of the elegant digit slipping into the recesses of the silky folds.

 

"I'm still not convinced." Min said between gritted teeth as Aerylle gently worked a finger deep inside her sex, the hot, swollen folds parting easily under the grey elf's expert touch.

 

"Allow me to convince you." Aerylle replied whimsically as she knelt in front of Min, gently raising the tiefling's flower patterned, red and white skirt to expose the hidden blossom beneath. Min was soaked, the deep ruby-red lips of her sex glistening in the dull lamplight with a fine sheen of dew, her tiny clitoris stiff and inviting. The tiefling shifted so that her back was against the door and spread her thighs, crouching slightly, to grant her elven lover full access.

 

Aerylle did not need to be asked. Her tongue was like solid electricity on Min's aching sex, its gentle, lapping motion filling the tiefling's veins heady pulsations; Aerylle never went directly to stimulate a climax - the elven girl was patient, diligent and frustratingly thorough. Min could only gasp with needy desire as she felt Aerylle's tongue lavish its attention in firm, circular patterns on her outer and then inner lips, penetrating deeper with each searching kiss.

 

The tiefling slick folds were tart, spicy and deliciously eager under Aerylle's mouth. Now lapping with patient, slow-burning hunger at the tiefling's core, Aerylle knew that her lover had intoxicated her, exposed her to a new realm of senses and pleasures which she had never dreamed could be so richly vivid and powerfully erotic. Min interrupted Aerylle's considerations by passionately running her fingers through the elven maiden's long, light honey-blonde tresses, drawing the girl's mouth in closer as she ground her sex against it.

 

"I...I think I am ready." Aerylle said, quite suddenly, looking up from between Min's firm, rose-marble thighs.

 

"Right," Min said, with some trepidation, hoping not to disappoint or unnerve her lover, "maybe it's best if you make yourself comfortable on the bed."

 

Aerylle nodded, "Ah...on my back or...face down?" She was blushing intensely, an endearing shade of red spreading over her pale, alabaster-white cheeks.

 

"Let's just start with you lying down normally, facing me, then we'll take it from there." Min simply could not believe that elven culture had such a complex system of intimacy by which Aerylle had never even contemplated being penetrated in this fashion; however, the tiefling concluded, different folks different strokes. She undid a red velvet pouch she had stored by the side of Aerylle's bed and retrieved a cream white olisbos, firm yet supple, but seemingly fashioned out of ivory with a thin hilt and a thicker shaft. In the meanwhile, Aerylle accepted Min's invitation and lay back on her over-stuffed bed to watch her lover prepare, a hint of slight anxiety creeping into her mind. Nevertheless, she obediently spread her thighs, revealing the light peach-pink folds of her humid sex.

 

"This one's got a minor enchantment," Min explained, working the thin base of the dildo into the depths of her sodden sex, the enchantment immediately springing to life, causing the artifact to take root in her sex, so she could feel the cool air of the room along the surface of the instrument as if it were on her own sex, "it'll act as a link between us, so it's not like I've become a male or something."

The conservative, traditionally elven side of Aerylle's consciousness begged to differ. Nevertheless the proposition was intriguing, but only to the extent that it was part of Min. In reality, Aerylle could see no legitimate reason why Min had to make use of a surrogate when their lovemaking had been extraordinary up to that point. In Imej, what Min was proposing would have been considered barbaric, a resort of less refined races, but, upon further contemplation, there was pleasing hint of transgression in the act which spurred Aerylle on.

 

"May I touch it?" Aerylle inquired curiously as Min knelt on the bed between the elven girl's spread thighs.

 

Min suppressed a giggle, "'Course." She invited, slipping her frilly blouse off, revealing the fine, firm mounds of her breasts, her nipples, crimson like ripe-raspberries, hard as arrowheads.

 

Very tentatively, Aerylle ran the tips of her fingers down the ivory shaft, feeling the organic texture, its pulsating warmth. Min sighed, her delicately slanted eyes pressing shut for an instant, just to concentrate on the sensation of Aerylle's hands; it was as if they were directly caressing her sex. Suddenly, the grey elf clasped down, hard, with both hands around the instrument and, upon hearing Min gasp in pleasure, decided that her curiosity had been satisfied and that it was finally time to commit herself to some serious cultural exchange.

 

"Now show me." Aerylle said, her toned determined.

 

"It shouldn't hurt 'cause you're pretty wet, but if it does, tell me." Min said, positioning herself between Aerylle's legs, taking a moment to admire the blooming lips of the elven maiden's sex, its light, floral fragrance intoxicating like the promise of those silky-smooth, juicing depths.

 

For her part, Aerylle cringed internally at Min's 'wet' comment. It was yet another taboo in polite grey elven society to discuss intimacy in such...prosaic terms. Predictably, and frustratingly, the appropriate Elven term had no direct translation into Sigil's lingua franca. 'Blooming' would have been a not excessively inaccurate rendition.

 

All linguistic considerations ceased, however, as soon the tip of the dildo pressed against the outer lips of Aerylle's sex. The elven girl tensed slightly, trying desperately to discard the last traces of residual inhibition just so that penetration would not be painful. Min, however, was already overcome by the desire to take Aerylle, the olisbos relaying the indescribable sensation of the elven girl's slick, hungry lips to the pulsating pleasure centres in her loins, belly and mind.

 

"Relax..." Min cooed softly as she began to slide in, slowly, leaning atop Aerylle, the dildo parting the pink, tender lips with effortless ease, slowly easing forward through the slick, honey drenched canal. Aerylle could only bite her lip and watch the ivory length of the instrument disappear into her, filling her with a sensation she had never before experienced; pleasurable, but profoundly unfamiliar. Once she had sunk in to the hilt, so that the thin, deep red curls of her sex were pressed against Aerylle's hairless nether lips, Min eased herself, face to face, against her lover to plant a searing kiss on the elven woman's rosy lips. Then she began to move her hips, a slow, deliberate thrusting and grinding motion.

 

"Min..." Aerylle sighed as she felt the tiefling's lips plant hot, wet kisses down the length of her sensitive, pointed ear. Although absorbed by the oddly mounting sensation of pleasure deep within her sex, Aerylle could not resist running her hands down the perfectly streamlined, firm sides of Min's flank, up to feel the heat, weight and feminine softness of the tiefling girl's breasts, so much in contrast with the athletic resilience of her belly and arms.

 

"Toldya, you'd like it." Min said huskily, continuing her trail of little kisses down Aerylle's ear, relishing in the sensation of the elf's nimble fingers gently tugging on her engorged nipples while the tension in her sex built further with each, slow, deep thrust into the moist, maddeningly hot recesses of her lover's sex. The grip of Aerylle's sex was like paradise, tight and firm, but yielding to every thrust, so eager to be spread aside for Min, to reveal its innermost secrets to the tiefling, to pour forth its salty-sweet nectar onto her thighs, a few stray drops slipping further onto the tight, creased bud of the grey elf's bottom and onto the pristine, clean white bedspread.

 

Min felt her climax approach in ever tightening waves of pleasure each time Aerylle's sex spread and contracted in response to the dildo's penetration, but when it did overtake her, it was like a welcome rain of white fire in her mind. Releasing all the tension in her loins in one long, hard thrust into Aerylle, Min cried out her pleasure into Aerylle's throat, passionately kissing the milky-white skin as her lust slowly subsided, her heartbeat still ragged as she loosed a few more, unhurried thrusts into her lover.

 

It did not take Aerylle too long afterwards to reach her peak; it was a new sort of orgasm, more visceral and less manageable, to be sure as she felt herself contract around the deep, thick intrusion in a hopeless, almost painfully pleasurable struggle, but it was certainly nothing she had been accustomed to. She was, however, more vocal in her pleasure than Min, her high, wailing little cries filling the chamber, much to the tiefling's lascivious amusement.

 

"Sounded alright to me." Min said, disengaging the olisbos from her sex and setting it aside before letting herself fall back into Aerylle's arms. The elven girl was exhausted, but satisfied that she had been up to the challenge.

 

"I could get used to it from time to time." Aerylle admitted, wrapping her arms around Min's waist, feeling the vitality of the tiefling's body heat.

 

"So we'll keep it in the rep...uh..."

 

"Repertoire." Aerylle corrected, giggling softly as she kissed Min's beautiful, sultry lips.

 

"Apologies, my princess, I must be used to a different sort of girl." Min said with gentle sarcasm, kissing back with sensual, post-coital abandon.

 

"Must you insist on calling me that?" Aerylle questioned with mock irritation.

 

"Only 'cause that's what you are to me." Min replied before she could stop herself.

 

"So now, who is going 'all storybook' on whom?" A smile of intense satisfaction spreading on the grey elf's lips.

 

If Min could blush visibly, she certainly would have in that moment, but the penumbra of the room and the natural rose-agate tint of her skin saved her from further embarrassment, "Fuck," she mumbled, slumping forward in desperation, "must've been drinking so much."

 

Aerylle did not even bother reprimanding the tiefling for her lapses into the vernacular; it was always amusing to see Min's softer side after lovemaking.

*******************************

 

"Lys, this is ridiculous...you've been up all night." Cirily protested, huddling under a blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders. Sigil's urban environment and lack of natural sunlight meant that the temperature tended to drop very quickly indeed during the darker hours. Now, as she stood on the balcony of their bedroom, Cirily could only see Elyszara, clad only in a thin silvery nightgown, looking out on the fires and lambent illumination of the wheel-city below.

 

"I need to think." Elyszara snapped back, irritated at having her contemplation disturbed. Observing the last revellers returning home, the first signs of normal, daytime life returning in the form of bakers, tradesmen, bodyguards - of all races and descriptions - assembling at their workstations, she felt the life of the city beneath her. The density of humanity, demi-humanity and outright inhumanity. Everything was in movement, everything more frantic, active and varied than the vales of Arvandor where changes could last seconds or take centuries, depending on the whim of goddesses and gods. Here, it was sentients who carved their own destiny, without outside interference, without the crushing prospect of infinitely superior beings surrounding. And, Elyszara knew, just what a disincentive to a productive, decent life that was.

 

"You're smoking again, aren't you?" Cirily reprimanded sternly.

 

"Cirily," Elyszara replied tersely, "go...back...to bed." For the record, she had been consuming a rather substantial quantity of Dreamsmoke stems and resin, compacted into a long, thin, hollow pipe which was carved to resemble a forked, serpent's tongue. The trail of multichrome smoke was barely perceptible from its tip.

 

"I know you too well," Cirily snorted, "I hope that's making your pain easier. I'm just surprised you're not drinking too."

 

"Done that, out of feywine."

 

"Lys, before I go, just one more thing." Cirily said, her resentment finally welling up through her well-rehearsed stoicism. There were limits to everything, but Elyszara simply wished to smash them left and right. Limits, of course, meant nothing to her. They were hideous reminders of her mortality, of her own physical, intellectual and emotional limits.

 

"As long as you promise to disappear afterwards." Elyszara said, taking a deep, aromatic puff. The hallucinogenic and mildly stimulant effect of the drug made Sigil appear particularly vibrant, its sounds magnified, its lights distorted like smudged paint, its form extend into infinity like a great, cosmic snake biting its own tail.

 

"I may be patient, but I am certainly not stupid. Why did milady Syf smell like our rose oil? And why, oh why, did I think back to your famous dress when I was cleaning the bathchamber this morning?" Cirily was not particularly angry, just profoundly contemptuous at the thought that Elyszara believed she could deceive her. Though not overtly punctilious, Cirily's senses were endowed with a uniquely well-developed recognition of detail, nuance and composition. This was both the blessing and curse of her firre ancestry. Most importantly, Cirily knew everything about Elyszara; it was not so much a compulsion as a result of having a perfect eye for detail and having lived, eaten and slept with her for years.

 

"Because we fucked." Elyszara said, the Dreamsmoke sharpening her sadistic streak.

 

"I suspected as much. Apologies for not having been able to provide what you needed." Cirily was surprised by her own calm. Once laid bare, the truth had no further potential to hurt.

 

"Aren't you angry?" The dark-haired aasimar inquired, never once turning around.

 

"Believe me, Lys, I'm livid. But there seems to be no point in drawing this out any more. What am I going to do? Leave you, make a scene, kill you out of jealousy? Where would that leave you and where would that leave me? Since we are both entrusted with this cruel destiny by which neither one of us can live without the other, I'm afraid you won't get the satisfaction of me making a scene, or slapping you or throwing things."

 

"So you don't hate me?"

 

"Does a mother hate a lying child?"

 

"Oh...Cirily." Elyszara moaned, suddenly repentant, the Dreamsmoke encouraging unfortunate mood swings. She reached turned around gracefully to embrace her red-haired lover.

Cirily sidestepped with ease, "Finish your pipe, close the window and don't even think of coming to bed. There's a perfectly decent divan downstairs." Mothers, Cirily thought with some satisfaction, certainly did not hate their children for lying, but they could - and indeed should - punish them.

 

"But..."

 

"But you're shameless." Cirily decided that this time Elyszara was certainly not getting off easily at all, "Clean yourself up, stop behaving like a layabout, socialite whore and come back to me. This relationship will work, on my honour, but I will not be humiliated. You should know better, Lys, we're both from Arvandor. I can easily tolerate your dalliances, as long as I know and I agree. That you choose not to trust my good judgement is the real root of my anger."

 

Elyszara remained silent. She knew all of this, she knew it from her first days with Cirily that her lover was not possessive as much as she was affectionate. But Elyszara had wanted Syf to be hers and hers alone, something unique and secret which could be kept hidden - something powerful. Deception, after all was one of the most empowering means of interaction she knew.

 

"Good, I'm happy we're in agreement." Cirily concluded, turning back into the bedchamber, "For your information, Lys, had Friyya given her consent, I would have been happy for you to have Syf as your bedmate. You clearly needed the discipline I was unable to give you."

 

That last part - Elyszara pondered - was absolutely, irrefutably true.

**************************

 

Lily felt nervous and out of place. Not in a vulnerable sort of way, but more in a tense, potentially violent frame of mind. The preparation room at one of, or so she had been told, Sigil's most active hazardous enchanted items, artifacts and assorted extraplanar menaces firms was claustrophobic. Just a small ragged couch, a clothes chest, a table with some opened, half-finished bottles of some best unidentified liquid all compacted into an irksome, tiny space. And this was the evaluation of someone who had lived her entire life in underground caverns.

 

"So, Lily this Min, my lovely colleague, co-worker, all-purpose friend and so forth etcetera. We'll be uh, evaluating your team performance-capabilities in light of our team specification-requirements." Shesayne said, far too quickly for Lily to fully understand, even though her fluency in Sigil's lingua franca was improving by the day.

Min looked dejectedly around herself, with one more on the team, their prep room, grandiloquently called the common room, would be, for all intents and purposes, a prison cell. But at least, so she had heard, dark elves had an exceptional natural affinity to magic and enchantment. Even the least spellcaster amongst them knew some impressive incantations. Min, however, tended to remain sceptical until proven wrong.

 

"I know, I remember you." Lily said tensely, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement in Min's direction.

 

"C'mon more life." Min chided, inspecting their newest recruit. She seemed prepared enough, Virginia had said that she had trained as a priestess in her homeland - if that was indeed the case, she would definitely be of use.

 

"Life?" Lily repeated, somewhat perplexed.

 

"Figure of speech, idiom or just Min being Min, who knows?" Shesayne said whimsically, amused at Lily's disorientation.

 

"Nevermind her, she's always like this."

 

"Anyway, allow me to explain what our enterprise-mission is going to be today," Shesayne began, smiling impishly, her vibrant blue eyes lighting up with boundless excitement, "we have a containment device..."

 

"Sod it..." Min mumbled.

 

"Containment device," Shesayne continued, glaring at the tiefling, "in the remains of an old shrine to Tharizdun, god of death on some Prime world they tell me at the library, in the Clerk's Ward. We retrieve it, deal or dispose with it, and hope that what's inside needn't come out."

 

"Wouldn't some berk have noticed it lying around the sodding Clerk's Ward?" Min inquired wearily.

 

"No, no, no! They built over it, thinking it was a ready-made, all-set ready-to-go foundation." Shesayne specified.

 

"Not another underground one." Min groaned, "Right, well no use to talking 'bout it. Lily what's your poison?"

 

"Ah, poison?" The irritating, enervating feeling of disorientation was growing in the dark elf.

 

"Weapon, side arm, y'know." Shesayne clarified.

 

Knife, a tiliel sacrificial knife Lily thought, before deciding that it was probably not the most reassuring choice, "Short sword, preferably with a curved blade."

 

"Easily done, you seem dressed right, too...that's more than I can say for someone else here, though." Min said, appreciating Lily's functional black leather and fabric full body complement - which had surreptitiously been billed to the firm itself -, not unlike an assassin's ensemble with plenty of hidden pouches and pockets.

 

"What, me?" Shesayne protested. There was nothing, to her knowledge, wrong with her succinct, burgundy top with matching skin-tight - and almost unbelievably short - leggings. Nothing wrong with showing a little thigh, Shesayne had thought earlier that morning, especially with fantastic legs like mine.

 

"Yeah, sorry you have to put up with this, Lily, but Shesayne sometimes confuses our line of work with another. Let's go."

The half-elf scowled angrily at Min, just because the tiefling's approach to all matters aesthetic was monotonous and understated did not mean she had to follow that dreary example.

 

They deployed quickly from their headquarters and launched themselves into the Clerk's Ward, the bureaucratic nerve centre of Sigil. The streets were filled with the constant comings and goings of high-ups clad in elaborate robes, their clerks in more modest attire, and heavily armoured, menacing bodyguards who ranged from the brutish, to the reptilian, to the insectoid. Although by far one of the better maintained quarters of Sigil, an air of latent decay hung in the atmosphere. Buildings, though outwardly impressive and constructed in the typically spiny, vertical architecture of the City of Doors, were worn around the edges and seemed to cling to each other, like decrepit old giants.

 

It was Lily's first proper excursion into the city and, to her relief, her appearance drew no attention whatsoever. Creatures far more suspicious and monstrous patrolled the streets: mollusc-headed mind-flayers, bulbous, fishlike kua-toa, tall, regal, blue-skinned mercane. The sensory assault was overwhelming to the dark elf, as if all the Multiverse had converged into a single spot. But then again, Lily reflected, such were the vagaries of Fate, who was, at the best of times, a fickle mistress. The planar gate which had taken her to Sigil could as well have dumped her in the icy, eternally suffering glaciers of Caina.

 

Min walked with self-assured grace, her movements so fluid it appeared that the air and creatures around her moved to make way for her, the air of mystery around the tiefling compounded by the fiery veil of deep-red hair which hid the sides of her face from the casual observer. Shesayne skipped and pranced rather than walked, her hands, back and hips in perpetual motion, sometimes silently smiling to herself, sometimes badgering Min with truly inane banter.

 

Her appearance did certainly draw attention to her; she was, after all, gifted with slender, girlish proportions which had a sort of wiry, energetic femininity to them and which both humans and elves - and not only - found attractive. Shesayne's was a perpetual motion which Lily could not stand; it was superfluous, it drew undue attention and it was distracting. As far as the drow was concerned, the sardonic, enigmatic Min was far more appealing in a vulgar sort of way. Drow prized priestesses above all, with thieves, assassins and their ilk somewhere close to the bottom of the social totem pole. At least, to look on the - so to speak - bright side of things, Lily thought, they were now male and, most importantly, there was no sun in Sigil to overwhelm her delicate eyes. Some light, though, was generally too much light.

 

"Should be right here." Shesayne finally declared upon reaching a vast, forbidding building with a concave facade adorned with angular, jutting spires like the teeth of a vast, primordial monster.

 

"Under this?" Min queried.

 

"Uhm...so it seems and so it would appear."

 

"Let's get it over with, then." The tiefling declared, climbing the steps to the entrance in graceful, effortless bounds. Lily followed her with trepidation, not quite certain what to expect. Entering a building uninvited in the Underdark meant almost certain death, unless one went in adequately prepared, that was. In that moment though, without her priestly spells, without her sanctified equipment, she felt decidedly vulnerable.

 

They were let into the foundation cellars by a nervous caretaker whose primary concern was to leave as soon as possible since he was clearly terrified of what his 'master' would do to him if he didn't dust his wine cellar on schedule. Lily immediately found the place comforting, almost a shadow of home. The darkness was soothing to her eyes, though Shesayne's irritating movements could still be detected as jarring, shifting little heat signatures, and the cool silence was reminiscent of an Underdark cavern.

 

"Shesayne, light." Min ordered.

 

The half-elf complied immediately, muttering a short, sharp incantation which caused a mote of shimmering light, much to Lily's disappointment, to manifest in front of the party. Beneath the first two levels of the foundation cellars was a half-submerged floor where the quality and nature of the stone changed from forbidding granite to something entirely more sinister, like black volcanic rock slick with mouldy humidity and perhaps something less benign still. Their footsteps were wet and heavy against the cool water which flooded the paving. As expected, at the very centre of the flooded level lay a circular chamber, long forgotten, which bore the remains of what had clearly once been an obscene altar to the forgotten god Tharizdun: a great skeletal hand, now in grievous disrepair, which had clearly previously clutched a skull-shaped phylactery which lay ominously, half-sunken, on the floor before it.

 

"Why in the Nine Hells did they only realise this now?" Min growled. The carelessness of some building developers really defied belief.

 

"They thought they could hide the evidence by walling it over. A maintenance-repair team found it only a couple of days ago."

 

Lily tensed, out of instinct and out of intuition. She knew the sensation which emanated from the phylactery, a vaguely cylindrical container carved out of what appeared to be yellowed bone.

 

"The mildew really stinks..." Shesayne complained, taking one splashing step closer to the altar.

 

"What do you expect?" Min snapped - the smell was not only mildew and it was making her uneasy.

 

"We'll disarm it first. Min, why don't you set up the antimagic field rod? Lily, I'll approach to the left and you approach to the right, don't touch it before Min gives us the all clear. Right-understood?"

 

"Understood." Lily replied, feeling a familiar sensation overtake her, like something cold and wet gripping a subconscious section of her brain.

 

Min set the ornate antimagic crystal to project a spherical field of green metaphysical interference around the altar, hoping that it would scramble the artifact's enchantment. This was the crucial part of the containment process before retrieval could be effectuated; the malignant influences within would almost certainly break free upon contact with the phylactery. Crouching close to the ground in order to survey the projection field, Min gave Lily and Shesayne the go-ahead to approach.

 

Even the normally restless Shesayne found herself drawing slow, deliberate breaths: these operations were all a matter of timing; timing and luck. The pair came closer, Shesayne with her nimble hands outstretched, as if to clutch the phylactery in the most delicate of grips, Lily approaching with one hand on the pommel of her shortsword. It was then that it dawned on her, "Interrupt the antimagic field." The dark elf said, interrupting the tense silence which had filled the abandoned chamber.

 

"What?" Min's surprise was almost palpable.

 

"I feel it...I know it, it awaits a return to the surface." Lily explained.

 

"It?" Asked Shesayne.

 

"I have felt this feeling before, it is almost certainly what we call ia-thaill. Deceptive, but not very powerful. It will exploit us to get back to the surface, after its imprisonment, it needs to feed."

 

"Are you sure, certain, positive?" Shesayne inquired nervously.

 

"I will never forget that sensation."

 

"Right, so what do we do about it?" Min interjected.

 

"If I release it correctly by shattering the phylactery rather than opening it, the ia-thaill will leap out, almost always towards the surface. You should have sufficient time to strike at it."

 

"You up to it?" Min needed Lily's confirmation even if she had already made her mind up. The tiefling gripped two throwing knives between her fingers, still crouching low, her keen eyes already charting a hypothetical vertical path the presumed creature would take out of the phylactery.

 

"Yes." Lily said simply, drawing her crescent-bladed shortsword, its blade dully reflecting the shimmering light of Shesayne's conjured orb.

 

"Let's play some." Shesayne said, half enthusiastically as she finished loading her miniature crossbow which, incidentally, was her pride and joy: so much more convenient in Sigil's cramped quarters than the cumbersome Elven longbow.

 

"On my signal." Lily ordered and, for a moment, she was an Initiate again, dictating the terms of a summoning to her classmates.

 

She struck hard, but accurately, instinctively identifying the fissure point in the phylactery where an enchantment had sealed it shut; the blade penetrated the bone easily, sending shards flying and a monstrous apparition, like that of a deformed, hunched goat with sucking, eyeless mouths squirming like tentacles where its snout should have been, flying into the dank air of the cavern, its many, malformed arms flailing as if it were in eternal agony.

 

Min did not miss, the two daggers planting themselves in the creature's withered midsection, drawing out fetid ichor. It was at its most vulnerable as it was materialising, having just been released from its prison and starved of souls, so that when a pair of carefully aimed silver crossbow bolts struck it in the side of its abominable head, it knew no more. The apparition vanished at the speed with which it manifested, its vile ichor falling like green dust into the water below, its body dispersing in vapour and rank air. Only a low, dying moan echoed through the chamber and it was as if nothing had ever transpired before the altar of the forgotten god, Tharizdun.

 

"Easy, easy, easy." Shesayne said, drawing a sigh of relief. It was normally best to retrieve rather than confront.

 

"You're hired." Min said curtly, smiling in satisfaction.

 

"My pleasure to be of assistance." Lily crowed - finally, after what had felt like an eternity, she felt useful. Useful and upwardly mobile. The more she considered, the more it appeared that her familiarity with entities the surface world loathed or feared were an asset rather than a liability. In this instance, a vengeful, escaped ia-thaill was an unpleasant thing indeed to deal with. Especially when it completed its materialisation process.

 

"Drinks?" Shesayne said suddenly, sounding very much like a non sequitur to Lily.

 

"On me" Min snarled. She still had a very substantial debt to Shesayne to pay off.

**********************************

 

After filing the retrieval report and taking their leave, Min, Shesayne and Lily found themselves an agreeable table at the Styx Boatman. This was a low-key and suitably anonymous tavern at the edge of the Hive Ward, patronised by a diverse, but generally sedate clientele. Lighting was provided by overhanging lamps and dark tallow candles which occasionally dripped wax onto the dark, weathered wood floor. The general impression of a semi-lit dreamworld permeated the place and was reinforced by the subtle drumming of a fensir troll crouched over his giant-hide drum set, feeling the sensation of each pulse and each beat under his great, wide hands and ears. In time, the Styx Boatman had become one of Min and Shesayne's favourite locales: neither too pricy nor too chaotic, just the right dose of quirky bustle.

 

Frequenting public establishment was yet another habit Lily found herself taking objection to and, ultimately, being forced to accept. In her previous life, it would have been unthinkable for the daughter of a noble household, a potential ruler of the city, to frequent the lowly establishments reserved for commoners and non-drow. She had, however, felt a burgeoning pang of camaraderie with her new colleagues, so she settled for a hasty compromise wherein she would at least give the tavern a chance. Min and Shesayne seemed enthusiastic enough though, the tiefling throwing herself with visible relief against the back of her upholstered chair, long, slimly muscled legs resting on the table, whilst the half-elf hovered around restlessly, scrutinising the day's clientele.

 

"Oh, I just remembered..." The half-elf began.

 

"Shesayne!" Min warned.

 

Shesayne turned to face the tiefling, then approached, taking slow, deliberate steps, her barely-clad hips swaying provocatively to emphasise each word, "Min owes me three hundred marks!" She said in that mocking singsong tone which was guaranteed to irritate Min to no end.

 

"So you do gamble?" Lily interrupted, suddenly curious.

 

"On certain things, matters or propositions, yes, yes." Shesayne clarified, playfully mounting onto Min's chair, knees on either side of the tiefling's thighs.

 

"Really stupid things that aren't worth your time of day to hear." Min clarified hastily.

 

"Min, dear lovely Min, you need to stop worrying so much. I bet you looked absolutely adorable that evening." The half elf said as she leaned forward against Min to plant a long, deep kiss with her cherry-red lips on the tiefling's mouth. Min acquiesced and sunk her tongue into Shesayne's mouth, their kiss becoming hungrier and more passionate. The tiefling's hands rose up Shesayne's slender, exposed thighs to cup the scarcely-covered swell of the half-elf's delectably pert, firm bottom.

 

"Nice to see you appreciate the very best in Sigil." Shesayne said teasingly, breaking the kiss and withdrawing slightly so she could lick Min's sultry, vermillion-red lips.

 

"When you dress like that, so does the rest of the city." Min said with a malicious, enticing smile forming on her lips, her dextrous hands still running down Shesayne's exposed abdomen, thighs and the perfect swell of her bottom.

 

"Jealous, little Min? So which is better, mine or Marséna's?" Shesayne said, affecting a seductive tone as she continued to kiss Min.

 

"I've only had...in depth experience with yours...so far, so it's hard to tell."

 

"Apologies if I interrupt," Lily interjected - she was not one to disrupt such matters, but some of the customs she had encountered thus far were so incomprehensible they required immediate clarification, "but I thought that such behaviour elicited violent reactions if pursued when associated with another." Lily could not help but think of the rather bizarre confrontation between Syf and Friyya; she had evidently misjudged hierarchy once before and was reluctant to make the same mistake again.

 

"Oh, c'mon Lily," Shesayne reprimanded gently, "we're just playing, it's nothing serious, just a little quality time with delicious Min."

 

That Lily could understand, though certainly never in such a public setting, however the inconsistency of the relational interaction she had observed so far had been frustrating. Nevertheless, it was no longer her place to judge, merely to observe, interpret and learn.

 

"By the way, Lily, how did you know what that thing in the phylactery was?" Min asked curiously as Shesayne began to move in rhythmic, dancelike motions to the hypnotic beat of the drums in the background.

 

"It was actually quite simple. Before being selected as a priestess, I and some other Initiates had to take a test. We were brought to the summoning pool which lies beneath the main court of the temple of Lloth where we were told to combine our power to call and control a ia-thaill. It was a particularly difficult test: one Initiate was devoured, her soul forever lost, another was ripped open by the creature's mouths, her bowels flowing out like worms. In the end, we succeeded in controlling it by force of will, though I remember the experience was draining. I may have slept for many cycles of our Black Moon afterwards. I never forgot the feeling I had in my mind the day we summoned it, though, and that was the same feeling I got from being in front of that altar."

 

"Tough childhood, troubled times, past not done with you yet?" Shesayne commented, unnecessarily.

 

"Join the club." Min said dryly.

 

"You could say so," said Lily, "but now I was led to believe that there would be drinks. I am...ah, eager to celebrate my new social network."

 

"Coming right up this instant." Shesayne declared, flagging a serving maid down, "But you really have to drop the accent and the weird phrases."

 

"Is my language inappropriate?" The dark elf queried, before it occurred to her that the register she used with Virginia was probably not as appropriate to this more urban social setting. Cities, even drow cities, evolved their specific speech patterns over time.

 

"No, don't worry about it," Min reassured, "you'll pick up what you need soon enough. You're not the only dark elf in Sigil, y'know."

 

"Drow." Lily snapped, for what felt like the umpteenth time.

 

"Oh, touchy-sensitive." Shesayne commented, effortlessly leaping off Min's chair in one bound and approaching Lily, "We're all friends here, so we don't want to cause or encourage offence." The speed of the half-elf's speech still had Lily confused, the general sense was perceptible, but the words just flowed as indeterminately as droplets in a torrent of water.

 

"I think you need to unwind a little," Shesayne purred, mounting suddenly with her sharp, darting reflexes, into Lily's chair and straddling her, "isn't Virg helping you with that? 'Cause I'd be happy to fill you in on anything you think you're missing out on."

 

The dark elf sat still, utterly perplexed and more than slightly unnerved at Shesayne being so forward. This demi-elf was certainly no ranking priestess who could take such liberties.

 

"I am uncertain if I am to be flattered or insulted by your...presumption." Lily managed, despite herself admiring the elegant lines of the half-elf's bared midriff and nicely proportioned, compact breasts, only barely concealed by the scandalous burgundy top.

 

"Oh, come on, come on we both have an interest in keeping our lady-knight lovers happy," Shesayne insinuated, leaning in close against the drow, almost face to face, "if one of us falls, we both fall together and get tragically left in the dust." Shesayne lunged forward to run her tongue playfully down Lily's pointed ear.

The dark elf bit her lip to keep herself from gasping in surprise and - guilty - pleasure.

 

"Don't mind her, she's always like this," Min said nonchalantly, calling for a couple of bottles of spiced liqueur as the serving maid approached, "didn't get enough attention as a child."

 

"Oh, dear Min is being bitter again, hmm? But you, you need to brighten and perk up too - nothing kills the party more than a dreary drow." Shesayne cajoled, taking Lily's hands into her own and bringing them to her hips, "Where they go from there is up to you." She teased.

 

Eccentric as the half-elf was, she had a certain vital charm to her which softened Lily's approach. There was no point in expecting any dignity, ritual or decorum under these circumstances and Lily herself felt somewhat encumbered and inelegant in her functional, black outfit. Of course, Shesayne wasn't entirely unappealing either, if in a vaguely irritating, trivial way.

 

"I am flattered that you trust a drow enough to give her that liberty." Lily replied amiably enough, a slightly perverse smile forming on her sensual, violet lips as she stared into Shesayne's bright blue, impishly curious eyes.

 

"My duty, pleasure and pastime." Shesayne said, relishing the movement of Lily's soft, nimble hands, stroking and lightly scratching with the very tip of her fingernails, down the exposed skin of the half-elf's taut belly, moving fluidly to cup the perfect globes of her bottom.

 

"You see, Min, she has taste; a first class artistic eye for the truly beautiful things Sigil has to offer." Shesayne called.

 

"Shame I'm missing out." Min said sarcastically, observing the slightly absurd scene. Surely Shesayne was hardly the ideal person to give Lily an introduction to responsible life in Sigil; having said that, she was unsure whether she or Shesayne had ever actually lived a responsible minute in their lives. Responsible people, apparently had normal jobs, saved money, started families or generally engaged in productive socially constructive activities. Too bad for them, Min thought wryly.

 

"I admit that for a half-breed you are quite...impressive." Lily purred, beginning to overcome her irritation at Shesayne's constant movement - on closer inspection, the swaying of the half-elf's hips had a spontaneously erotic quality to it.

 

"I like to think that I've got the best of both sides." Shesayne quipped before giving a slight squeal of surprise as she felt the searching tip of Lily's finger slide under the waistband of her leggings - a sort of an oxymoron because they did absolute nothing to cover her legs.

"How arrogant of you...I like that." Said Lily, privately enjoying the satisfaction of finding Shesayne damp under her finger.

 

"Then let me make you more comfortably relaxed." The half-elf replied, her voice now almost a sensual whisper, her words slower so Lily could finally begin to fully understand what her newfound friend was saying. Shesayne proceeded to open the front of Lily's full-body suit, easing aside the form-fitting, if somewhat unflattering, black leather and canvas to reveal the tops of the drow woman's generous obsidian breasts.

 

"That's why drow are my favourite elves." Shesayne joked.

 

"I think the idiomatic expression is: 'don't push your luck'." Lily said, her smile turning dangerous.

 

"Oh, c'mon sense of humour, sense of irony, self-deprecation...you people have none of that?"

 

"As always, there are limits."

 

"Well, well for being such a good sport so far, I think you deserve a little reward." Shesayne said, hastily changing the subject as she tentatively pressed her lips against Lily's.

 

The dark elf kissed back, hungrily at first, her lips devouring Shesayne's, their tongues duelling with ardent energy. As soon as she concluded that Shesayne had become comfortable, Lily bit down, hard on the half-elf's bottom lip so as to draw the slightest trickle of blood, "As do you." Lily said with a self-satisfied smile on her lips, quickly lapping up a few red droplets from Shesayne's mouth.

 

Shesayne shuddered, recoiling slightly in pain, before cocking her head curiously at Lily, her charming, elfin face seemingly unperturbed, "Looks like your bite's worse than your bark."

 

"Always catch your enemy unprepared: it usually prevents you from having to fight." Lily commented.

 

"My, my, my are you a fascinating one. D'you drink, our stuff, I mean?"

 

"I might as well start." Lily conceded, as Shesayne dismounted and poured her a glass.

 

Min, who had been watching the scene with bemused interest, took note of Lily's character: clever, devious, but potentially very useful. Good company too, since she could handle Shesayne, freeing Min to vary her schedule a little and engage in such interesting activities as watching the world go by. Of course, Shesayne was far more than the occasional irritation, insensitive - or nonsensical - comment, or embarrassing public display. She was probably the only decent thing Min had from her past, the only truly firm point of reference. As convoluted as their emotional lives had been, Min and Shesayne had never left each other's side.

*******************************

 

The light of Sigil's early day filtered through the red thick red curtains which had been improvised from some scavenged fabric. They turned the light's glow a dull red, which spread across the tiny, cramped bedchamber. At least, Shesayne reflected, they had a window. She often awoke early, certainly much earlier than Min, only to be haunted each time by the stillness around her, by the prospect of the voice she never wanted to hear. It was cool that morning, so she drew the blanket closer to herself, wondering how Min could insist on sleeping naked. The tiefling stirred only slightly next to her, the veil of ember-red hair spread over her face so only the faintest hint of her face beneath was visible.

 

Soon it would be time to work again; the city was ripe for the picking and Min and Shesayne had become quite an efficient thieving team. They had long graduated from the pickpocket league - that was for children -, now the prizes were bigger: ever more complex setups, ever more dangerous 'excursions' into shops and residences which required perfect reflexes and perfect timing. Thankfully, they were both possessed with the former, though the latter could be as much a question of luck as of planning. Their line of work was not, additionally, without its drawbacks. The previous night, Min had dispatched a hyena-headed gnoll who had been hired to guard a glass and crystal ware storehouse. The tiefling, alarmed at having been caught in flagrante, lashed out with her daggers; one cut the artery in the gnoll's bicep, the other planted itself in its windpipe.

 

It had gagged, briefly, then collapsed, bleeding, snorting out air mixed with tiny droplets of live blood. Shesayne remembered that all she could mouth was "fuck, Min", almost spasmodically, as if it were a prayer. Stealing was one thing, killing quite another. The tiefling had looked unphased, cool and enigmatic as usual as the red-furred gnoll wheezed its last gasps, the reddish tide of its blood running down the smooth stone surface of the storehouse. Shesayne had hated herself for having been so hesitant, but Min had made nothing of it and, that night, they had slept curled up against each other as usual, struggling for rest under the incessant chaos of the Hive Ward.

 

The Hive, after all, was their home. Shesayne a half-breed like Min, they had lived in the great, steaming melting pot of Sigil's slums. Lived, laughed and suffered together in all the intriguing, energetic cruelty of the labyrinthine recesses of Sigil's root backsides. Thievery was not a pastime and decidedly not a moral quandary: it was life. Now even more so that Shesayne's mother had begun to tolerate their presence less and less in the tiny, cramped apartment on the second floor of an ailing building. When Shesayne was bored, she would sit on the steps in front of her door and shoot cranium rats with her hand crossbow as they ran up the walls or scampered up the stairs.

 

As far as Shesayne's long-suffering elven mother was concerned, she and Min were idle and useless. That was the voice Shesayne dreaded hearing in the morning - or any other time of day. The voice that told her that she was a disgrace, that Min was a miscreant, that neither of them had ever studied or done something constructive with their lives. In frustration, Shesayne had once shouted back that an elf who fucked humans and still dreamed only of returning to forests which had long ago burned down, to cities now in ruin, had no right to supply life-advice of any kind.

 

Min's fitful awakening disrupted Shesayne's recollections, "Shesayne...breakfast." The tiefling moaned - if she could afford to, she would lie in bed all day. Waking up was positively painful.

 

"We'll find something quick, cheap and cheerful outside. First things first, though, if the baths are clear you take first guard, I hate that sodding gnome leering at me." Shesayne cringed, they were never far from a close call in the Hive: no woman, girl or young boy was.

 

"Whatever." Min complained, rising to her feet. She sensed Shesayne was still nervous about their run in with the gnoll the previous night, "You ready for the job today? It's the Red Flag emporium, the one that sells ceramics."

 

"Yeah, we went over this hundreds of times. But Min, cool it, calm it and keep it under control, I don't want blood today, alright?"

 

"Fucking gnoll." Min growled, pulling on her leggings.

 

"What are you two still doing here?" A voice called menacingly from beyond the locked door of Shesayne's bedchamber.

 

"Leaving." Min said curtly.

 

"Don't even think of coming back. You two are misbegotten, wretched failures, you bring disgrace to this house."

 

"What, like more than this?" Shesayne snarled back savagely, "Fuck you, fuck off and die."

 

The voice went silent. Shesayne burned on the inside, her mother always managed to drag out the depressive side of her, that which was hidden beneath so much effusive energy and playfulness. Once it had been particularly difficult: elves looked down on her, humans just wanted to bed her, only Min understood her. Then, with time, she decided to take the Hive in its stride, to take no-one and nothing particularly seriously. Except, of course, for Min, who had been her faithful companion since they had been playmates on the streets. In all the mutable chaos of the Hive, in all its follies, Min was the only thing which remained constant and comforting.

 

Later that day, a rather charming young lady turned up at the Red Flag emporium. Her raven-black hair was neatly collected in a fashionable dragon-turtle shell comb and she was dressed in a simple white lace corset with matching skirt, in the fashion of some of the more respectable families of Sigil's merchant class.

 

"Greetings, Madam, how may I be of service?" The shop assistant, a rather stiff woman with elaborately coiffed blonde hair, inquired.

 

"I was looking for a gift." Shesayne said, affecting her best bourgeois accent and deliberately slowing down her speech to enunciate each word clearly.

 

"Certainly," the shop assistant responded, smiling, "what type would Madam desire?"

 

"Oh, well, I really had my mind set on the blue-green celadon vase with the phoenix design."

 

"Unfortunately, madam, I was not aware we stocked those."

 

"Well, are you certain? Perhaps you have some in storage, because your colleague yesterday told me that you still had some in the back. I'm certain I could identify the type at a glance." Shesayne insisted, flashing the sweetest smile she could fathom.

 

"Well it is our policy not to let anyone in..."

 

"Oh, please, miss, I really had my heart set on it. It is for a very important person, you understand, and you would make a young girl very happy if you helped me out." The half-elf smiled again, more seductively this time, her fingertips running gracefully down a vast, triton-shaped soup bowl on display at the centre of the emporium.

 

"Well..."

 

"You would earn my gratitude, miss, and that isn't something to be underestimated." Shesayne pressed, continuing to stroke the rim of the soup bowl.

 

"All right, follow me." The shop assistant decided, mentally activating the lock to the storage room. Only the most reckless still used mechanical locks to store valuables.

 

Shesayne laughed inwardly as she skipped into the vast storage chamber, filled to the ceiling with impressive - and extremely expensive - ceramic bowls, vases, jars and ornaments. What they were really after, of course, were the tiny, exquisitely carved ornamental jars which could easily be carried without drawing attention, fetched a good price and could readily be offloaded onto the market. Most importantly, they did not have alarm wards enchantments placed upon them like the items in the shop display. In the meanwhile, with the shop assistant away from her post, Min would have snuck in to the store to cover Shesayne's back.

 

"Right, madam, so where do you see this plate?"

 

"Oh well, around here with the other..."

 

"Madam, I thought you wanted a vase..."

 

- Sod it - Shesayne thought as her blood went cold.

 

"My mistake, sorry..." She mumbled, her careful gaze noting that the woman had drawn a shortsword from a scabbard concealed behind the storeroom door.

 

"I've been around too long for that to work on me, madam." The woman's voice had become more threatening now as she closed the door behind them.

 

"Is there anything I can do...to make it up to you, miss." Shesayne said, quite desperately, backing up against a wall. She brushed against a stack of plates, causing them to shatter against the ground in a loud crash, fine shards scattering across the floor.

 

"I am afraid not."

 

It was only when Shesayne realised that the thrust of the gleaming shortsword was inevitable that she instinctively drew her hand crossbow - which she kept tucked neatly under the folds of her skirt, strapped to her thigh - and fired. The bolt struck the blonde woman in the throat, by chance rather than by design. The shortsword dropped to the floor, as did the shop assistant's body, dying cries choked by the welling blood. The bolt had torn easily through the soft flesh of the throat, settling in the hard bone of the woman's neck. It was as if she had been skewered.

 

Shesayne sat there for long, wordless moments. Her heart felt like an earthquake beneath her, her fingers trembled almost spasmodically. She could barely hear Min in the distance, calling frantically, she could only barely feel the tiefling's arms wrap around her, a gentle, soothing voice in her ear whose words seemed to far away to make out. Her universe flashed red, white and deep black for what seemed like an eternity.

 

In the evening, much later, when the light had faded to a deep, twilit grey - like sunset on a cloudy day, Shesayne stood in front of Min, surrounded only by the silent wooden walls of the tiny bedchamber they both shared.

 

"We need to find something else, Min." The half-elf said softly, her mind still overwhelmed by the experiences of the day.

 

"What?"

 

"We need to find another job. I can't keep on like this." Shesayne felt hot, angry salty tears form in her eyes and pour slowly down her cheeks.

 

"Shesayne..." Min said softly, unsure of how to proceed, as she took the trembling girl into her arms, holding her close, feeling the wracking sobs run through her friend.

 

"We need to find another job, Min, because this is just too fucked up. We need another life, you and me, we need to be happy and we can't be fucking happy when we're risking our lives every single sodding day just for food and clothes."

 

"How?" Min asked bitterly, cradling the weeping girl in her arms, "There's only one other thing we could do besides thieving and I think we ruled that out ages ago."

 

"Anything's better than this, Min." Shesayne whimpered into the tiefling's breast.

 

"No, not that."

 

"So what then?" Shesayne said, her wild eyes, so curious and lively in the past now overcome with sorrow.

 

"We'll find something. You and me, just wait. We just have to find something we'd be good at. But, whatever happens, I'm with you. We swore by blood and that's forever."

***************************************

 

It was Lily who drained the last glass of the third bottle of spice liqueur, but before she could even contemplate objecting to another one being brought to the table, the deed had already been done. In spite of her inhibitions, the dark elf felt profoundly satisfied by her night out. For the first time since being driven from her ancestral home, she felt a sense of belonging. Virginia was pleasant enough - and an excellent lover - as she was, but Lily had never felt in good faith with herself surrounded by self-appointed paladins of goodness. Here, though, in the midst of those who, like herself, had live an experience of marginalisation, she felt whole and comfortable again.

Naturally, it was not as though she felt less drow, on the contrary, her contact with sentients with inferior aesthetic sensibilities made her particularly proud of her heritage, but it also simultaneously opened her up to new approaches.

 

Now, her thoughts well lubricated by the alcohol, she contemplated a lively scene before her. Sigil at the beginning of darkfall was as vibrant and lively as it was throughout the day, if not more so. The tavern, though never overcrowded, was characterised by the coming and going of patrons. But finally, even in a drow sense, Lily realised she had made true friends. It was not an easy feeling to deal with because her drow upbringing told her to distrust those who would aim for what she had; nevertheless, she was certain that there was no ill will in Shesayne or Min and that was a reassuring concept. It meant that she could afford to relax her guard. And concentrate on Shesayne. The petite half-elf had grown on her throughout the night, her incessant teasing and attention ever more stimulating.

 

Shesayne was flitting idly - and restlessly - between Min and Lily; taking pleasure in being as irreverent and provocative as possible. That, naturally, would never have been acceptable in drow society: Lily felt a mounting desire to thrust Shesayne against a wall and take her there and then in the tavern. It was, upon further consideration, probably just an alcohol-induced consideration, and caution dictated that Lily not let herself be swayed into showing any weakness. Min for her part was somewhat taciturn, interjecting every now and then with some dry remark to take the absurd edge off Shesayne's interminable chattering. Insofar as the tiefling was concerned, she enjoyed these evenings out because they meant company with people she appreciated; quite simply, she saw sharing her time with her friends as a sort of affection.

 

"Well, well, well what do we have here, my dear little Lily?" Shesayne said airily as she spied a figure entering the tavern.

 

"I suspect you are about to tell me." Lily replied. She had quickly learned to humour the half-elf: it was the best way to enjoy her company.

 

"If I'm not fooling myself or mistaken, she just skipped Quarters. I can recognise that weave of blouse anywhere...watch this, ladies, watch and learn for the greater glory." Shesayne said, leaping off Lily's lap and skipping towards the bar.

 

Shesayne had immediately recognised the newcomer as a novice of the Radiant Path. The simple white blouse and brown skirt were dead giveaways - more specifically, the inlay on the girl's side-arm bore the starburst insignia of the Vigilant Maiden. Pretty thing too - long blonde hair gathered in one braid, wide, leaf-green eyes, a slender, well-proportioned figure which, in time, would fill out more. Definitely a novice, Shesayne decided, the girl's appearance reminded her of the fresco paintings of the Virgin Goddess and her nymphs in the Temple of the Radiant Path.

 

"I'm sorry, miss, but I couldn't help but notice the presence of such a distinguished paladin from the Order of the Radiant Path." Shesayne began effusively, helping herself to a seat next to the girl at the bar.

 

"Ah...still a...novice, actually." The blonde girl replied, almost embarrassed. Evidently, Shesayne had already deduced that. It was quite evident from the sort of weapon that was carried: it was a training sword which was halfway between a longsword and a shortsword and intended for fencing practise rather than actual confrontation.

 

"Well, could have fooled me and I'm not easy to fool." Shesayne lied, her smile broadening, "I'm Shesayne."

 

"Ithunn, pleased to meet you." She replied quickly. As a novice, it was strictly forbidden for her to leave Quarters, much less frequent taverns. But as with all things that are forbidden, the yearning and the temptation associated with prohibition quickly win over even the most determined of souls. As much as Ithunn wanted to become an exceptional paladin, in the mould of her personal hero, Syf, she was tired of being taunted by her roommates that she had never once skipped Quarters or done anything on 'the outside'. If the tradeoff was between their mockery and a serious thrashing from Isobel, Ithunn had, in spite of all her good sense, begun to prefer the latter.

 

"And so, what mission, task or quest brings you out into the city?" Shesayne asked, feigning innocence. Ithunn, on closer inspection, had an impressive figure and that always caught the half-elf's attention.

 

"A little time for myself, perhaps." Ithunn answered evasively. Upon scrutinising Shesayne, she was forced to re-evaluate her preconceptions. It had never occurred to her that some actually chose to dress like that.

 

"Oh, how boring, boring, boring." Shesayne commented, "Time's always spent better in company and, as well all know, the common knowledge of all societies is: two's company, three's a crowd."

Ithunn swallowed, there was something entrancing about the half-elf's movements, the sparkle in her steel-blue eyes, the slight tan of her skin which was perfectly complemented by the dark red of her - though it was a stretch to call it that - outfit. The more rational side of the novice's mind reminded her of the scandal which could potentially be incurred if she allowed herself to be drawn into this world of iniquity. She was, upon reflection, a decent girl from a decent family who had no place in a tavern in the Hive.

 

"Hope I haven't made you uncomfortable, miss..." Shesayne said, flashing a concerned glance as she leaned forward in her stool, "Sometimes, when I'm distracted, I forget my manners."

 

"That is perfectly understandable." Ithunn said, simply because she could not think of anything else to say, all her world was now focused on Shesayne's impish grin, lips like ripe cherries, and her big, expressive eyes which were almost hypnotic.

 

"Yeah, I'm so sorry, I forgot that a lovely lady-knight such as yourself must have many admirers. Regrettably for me, but fortunately for you, I am merely one of many."

 

"You flatter, me, really..." Ithunn said, shifting nervously in her chair.

 

"Surely you have some special friend, or beloved. I wouldn't believe it otherwise." Shesayne said, teasing the novice's reactions out with practised ease.

 

"Actually, not yet..." In an ideal Multiverse - one which was so distant it did not even bear contemplating - Ithunn would have been making love to Syf, with her mentor staring her deep in the eyes as they came together what an honour it was to have such a promising student and such a beautiful lover all rolled into one. That was her favourite fantasy for when she lay in her bunk, curled up against the wall so no one could see her.

 

"I can't believe it...it's impossible, it goes against the rules and laws of the Multiverse!" Shesayne exclaimed.

 

"Maybe I need more time...you know, to find the right person." Ithunn said, though she was eager to change the topic, she did not quite know how to seize the initiative in the conversation.

 

"But that's no excuse for inexperience, you wouldn't want to disappoint that special person when you found her, right?"

 

"I don't know about that. It would be...inappropriate for me to succumb to desire. Our Order has high moral standards."

 

Whatever that means . Shesayne thought maliciously, "But such a charming lady-knight such as yourself has never once been sought out by an admirer? Have you never once stolen a kiss from a pretty little

novice who sometimes catches your eye?

 

"I am afraid not." Ithunn lied. But, she had to admit to herself, if Shesayne was flirting, as seemed almost certain, she was flattered.

 

"What a crying shame," Shesayne sighed, "here I was - silly me - thinking of learning a trick or two and maybe getting to know a nice girl a little better..."

 

"Well," Ithunn interjected hastily, "we can always do that last part."

 

"I would be pleased, honoured and flattered, my fair lady-knight." Shesayne said, gently taking Ithunn's left hand into her own, "So tell me, this is your sword arm, correct?"

 

"How..."

 

"Scabbard." Shesayne said, "It must be an advantage, but I imagine such a skilled, top-class fighter such as yourself to be virtually unbeatable, whichever hand you prefer." The half-elf was running a slender finger in a gentle, caressing motion down Ithunn's outstretched palm and wrist.

 

"I am also competent with a right-handed style, should the need arise..." Ithunn boasted, feeling paradoxically more and less comfortable at the same time.

 

"Then we have so much in common: we're both women of talent." Shesayne said, more seductively this time as she leaned forward to kiss Ithunn's upturned wrist, her tongue just darting out slightly as her lips touched the soft, pale skin.

 

Ithunn shuddered at the contact. There was a rational voice in the back of her head which was telling her desperately to bolt and run, but she was like a fly in a web - enraptured and held captive by Shesayne's magnetism.

 

"So there's a lot we could teach each other..." Shesayne breathed, tilting her head upwards to admire the novice's impressively rounded breasts, her enchanting, green eyes. It was then that the half-elf made her move, inching forward with her lips slightly opened, her gaze never leaving Ithunn's eyes. Predictably, the novice met her halfway, almost as if in a trance; her lips were hasty and inexpert, but hungry - her mouth, at first hesitant, finally yielded to Shesayne's tongue, allowing the half-elf to sink into the kiss, shifting her weight forwards so that she was leaning into Ithunn's chair. A dextrous, expert hand found its onto the novice's knee, teasing fingers creeping up the simple brown fabric skirt to slowly, methodically part her slender thighs. By the Nine Hells, some of these Radiant Path girls are repressed, Shesayne mused, sensing heat and moisture even before reaching Ithunn's sex.

 

One thing that Shesayne had not calculated into her polished seduction routine was the hard, jarring slap she suddenly felt on the side of her face.

 

"Such liberties!" Ithunn sputtered, rising to her feet, her pale face flushed in embarrassment (or was it something else?), "Shame on you!" The novice turned angrily, exiting the tavern as quickly as she could. Shesayne sat motionless for a few stunned moments, before turning around to look back at her table. Lily bore the broadest, most natural smile Shesayne had ever seen from the dark elf, but Min was doubled over, her face in her hands, trying to contain her uncontrollable laughter.

********************************

 

"Milady Marséna, I'm home." Shesayne called jovially, throwing open the door to the paladin's bedchamber.

Marséna, who had already been asleep for an hour, stirred, thrusting her face deeper into her pillow and hoping it was just a dream.

 

"Oh, what a shame, sweet little Marséna is sleeping, and I was going to show her such a good time..."

 

"Speaking of time, do you know how late it is?" Marséna moaned groggily, "Just get into bed."

 

"Oh you're not getting off that easily." Shesayne said, her tone playful and sensual at the same time as she stripped off the sheets and climbed onto the bed, kissing up the back of Marséna's calf to her thigh. The paladin sighed and relaxed slightly, hoping only for a relapse into sleep. Shesayne was not in the mood to allow that, though, as her kisses became wetter and more insistent as she trailed up the back of Marséna's iodine-tan thigh, gently lifting the Mareterran girl's nightgown to reveal the black curls which covered her sex and the perfect twin globes of her bottom. Shesayne moved ever upwards, her tongue now running its hot, wet trail up the firm, tautly feminine curve of Marséna's sculptural bottom, before playfully licking down the tight crevasse between the firm buttocks.

 

It was at that point that Shesayne caught Marséna's attention. By the time Shesayne had gently parted the globes of Marséna's bottom with her gentle, dextrous fingers to gently tease the tightly puckered muscle of the paladin's nether portal with the tip of her tongue, sleeping became totally out of the question. Marséna stirred, lifting her hips slightly and parting her thighs to allow Shesayne better access.

"Such a naughty girl." Shesayne chided, her lips planting soft kisses between the magnificent curve of Marséna's bottom, her tongue diligently at work, relieving the paladin's rosebud of all tension in long, insistent licks.

 

Marséna drew a sharp breath as she felt the tip of Shesayne's tongue ease into her rapidly relaxing nether portal, and instinctively bit down on her pillow when the sensation of two fingers gently parting the sodden lips of her sex was added to the already exquisite pressure in her bottom. She spread her thighs further, beginning to thrust herself back against Shesayne's mouth, demanding more of the curious, questing wetness within her. The half-elf was all too keen to indulge her lover's wishes further, continuing to work her tongue against the tight rosebud of Marséna's anus whilst applying gentle, but mounting friction against the silky wetness of the paladin's inner lips, revelling in the sensation of the hot, swollen flesh parting to accommodate her expert fingers.

 

"Fine, fine, you win." Marséna said softly, turning around languidly and pulling off her white cotton nightgown. She leaned forward to kiss Shesayne, her exhaustion temporarily vanquished as she found new energy in the welcoming warmth of her half-elven lover's eager mouth, "But I hate your wardrobe, it's too damn difficult to take off." Marséna joked, fumbling to strip off the smaller girl's burgundy top before finally tugging off her leggings and drawing her into a passionate embrace, their mouths locked in a sweet, sensual duel. Shesayne pressed herself close to Marséna, feeling the human girl's fuller breasts against her own, taking comfort in the warmth and the soft skin which now held her tight.

 

Allowing the revived Marséna to take the initiative, Shesayne took the occasion to luxuriate under the paladin's ministrations. Marséna's sensual, expert lips kissed down the half-elf's ear, trailed the curve of her throat and traced the contours of her collarbone. There was no urgency in Marséna's lovemaking, just slow burning passion as she fully awoke to the joys of Shesayne's body. 

 

"Take me." Shesayne whispered huskily, into Marséna's ear as the paladin kissed the tops of her petite breasts, the cowl of raven black hair shifting like a midnight cloak over the half-elf's lightly tanned skin. The latent desire which had been building Shesayne all day finally struggled to find its release, but of all the sensual titillation that the half-elven girl had enjoyed so far, none was more erotic than Marséna: her sun-kissed skin, her perfect, elegant curves, the rich, black softness of her hair and the sweet salinity between the slick folds of her sex.

 

Marséna nodded in assent, sliding one thigh underneath Shesayne's, sighing in pleasure at the delectably electric sensation of the half-elven girl's flawless skin, and hooking the other around her lover's waist. Her copiously juicing sex, deep pink lips moist and eager, now pressed against Shesayne's equally hungry nether lips. Contact was almost mind-bendingly tense, each time the sensitive inner lips brushed together, each time the friction of Marséna's coal-black curls was brought to bear on Shesayne's inflamed little clitoris, it was as if a shock traversed their bodies. Shesayne moaned softly as the paladin began to grind her sex with long, circular thrusts, only to be silenced by Marséna's sultry lips, hot and searching.

 

Their hands explored each other's bodies with wild abandon, Marséna cupping the elegant perfection of her lover's breasts, feeling the stiff, pink little nipples in contrast to the soft, yielding skin beneath them, while Shesayne worshipped the curves of the paladin's flanks and bottom. They moved almost as if in synchronism, Marséna leading the long, agonising, grinding thrusts, the friction delicious like molten syrup between her thighs, Shesayne's velvety inner lips so satisfying, so yielding, so full of juicy promise. The slender half-elf was all too keen to follow, only breaking her deep, smouldering kisses for breath, the aching, sensual kiss of their nether lips, however, remained uninterrupted.

 

Marséna's pulse quickened as she felt the onslaught of her passion, building like a tight knot in her loins. Her lust ignited, she broke her kiss with Shesayne and pushed the petite girl forward so that she could be unequivocally on top, dictating the rhythm and pressure of her sex against the half-elf's. Relishing in the sensuality of her surrender, Shesayne could only give herself over to Marséna's expert control as she felt the fire in her belly mounting with each long, slow, wet thrust, the friction building on the inflamed bud of her clitoris was unbearable, as was the teasing of the paladin's hands, now stroking the half-elven girl's firm belly with sensual abandon, pulling her up and forwards as whim dictated.

 

Marséna finally came with deep, ragged breaths, releasing all her passion in hard, jarring thrusts against the silky lips of her lover's sex. She only had to wait a few more moments before Shesayne joined her in the heights of ecstasy, the half-elf's hips bucking spasmodically, back arching as the molten fire of her passion shot up her spine, filling her with a profound, rolling sense of satisfied pleasure, her lips releasing high-pitched, rhythmic little cries. Then there was only heavy, laboured breathing and the moisture of satiated sex against sex, of passion-moistened thighs pressed together.

 

Shesayne slumped back, Marséna falling on top of her, covering her cherry-red lips with kisses, "Long day, my sweet Shesayne?"

 

"You could say so, but this was definitely worth the wait."

 

"Do you think we're getting back on track...you know, the right direction?" Marséna asked softly, as Shesayne wrapped her legs around the paladin's waist, drawing her close.

 

"I've been through harder times, if we want, we can make this beautiful, memorable, magnificent." The half-elf sighed dreamily.

 

"Do you believe that we're made for each other?" Marséna said, a trace of doubt in her voice.

 

"Yeah..."

 

"Don't lie, Shesayne." Marséna said quietly, gently planting a kiss on the girl's lightly pointed ear, "You once accused me of loving another more, but I think the same's true of you. I think that we're both confused and sometimes frightened, but I'm also confident that we'll find the right solution in the end."

 

"Aren't you being a bit vague, evasive, cryptic? Can't we just enjoy the evening?" Shesayne reprimanded. All she had wanted was a good orgasm and some generic cuddling, not an update on the grand scheme of their relationship.

 

Marséna paused to look Shesayne in the eye, before sinking forward to kiss the half-elven girl's lips with affection as much as passion, "You're right, another time."