Tales of Faerun

[AurianaValoria1]

Once all the party members were gathered together, Sasiu smiled at them and at last spoke, her voice surprisingly light and soft. Her speech was slow even as she addressed them in perfect Common, as if she were using a language that she had studied intensely but had rarely used.

 

"If you require water to be drawn for your rooms, you may request it from the servants in the halls of the guest chambers. Otherwise, you are free to use the bathhouse. Please, follow me."

 

With that, the young maiden led them through the side corridors of the dining hall, back into the courtyard, past the bathhouse, through a small portico, and into the guest quarters. The building itself, just like the rest of the complex, sported magnificent architecture of marble columns and archways. It consisted of six floors as well, the ground floor reserved for lounging and recreation, and the other five consisting of personal suites. Sasiu escorted them up the large staircase in the center of the ground floor and explained the layout of the building to each of them before departing to let them do as they wished.

 

Conall did not immediately choose a room, instead lingering around the ground floor and admiring the arts and architecture that he had never before seen. Argyros did the same, staring almost unblinkingly at the intricate pictographs that served as decoration along the crown moulding. Zorica, on the other hand, went straight back out into the night and headed for the bathhouse, unable to wait any longer to wash the grime of travel off of her body.

 

Finally, Rhaine, in need of rest more than anything else at the moment, set out to find a room, bidding the others a goodnight as she went. She hoped that, at the very least, her slumber would be dreamless. Ever since the battle with the Devourers, her dreams had been plagued with vague and strange visions seemingly related to that event - a shadowy man in a dark hood whispering incoherent things to her, taunts it seemed, and accompanied by an undeniable feeling of malevolence...

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

After choosing her chambers in Menarses’s guest quarters - a room at the end of the hall on the east wing of the second floor - Rhaine spent a few moments simply looking around the place in awestruck wonder. Just like the rest of the merchant prince’s sprawling, palatial abode, it was lavishly decorated and furnished. Everything in the room was immaculately clean, and the couches, chairs, and cushions had all been painstakingly adjusted to make for the most pleasing and sophisticated arrangement possible. The white marble floor gleamed in the low firelight of the golden braziers, its slick and shining surface dotted with priceless woven rugs and fur throws crafted from the pelts of rare and beautiful beasts. The thick, overstuffed cushions of deep scarlet and azure velvet were piled in the corners, and the two matching settees on the side walls had been draped in golden, floral-patterned silk throws. The corresponding golden satin curtains, framing the open glass window above one of the settees, fluttered softly whenever the warm breeze wafted inside, which was lightly scented with the sweet smells of the exotic flowering trees in Menarses’s courtyard. In the back of the room, across from the ebony double doors, was a four-poster canopy bed draped in delicate garnet-colored gossamer and fitted with matching silk sheets and velvet coverlets, some of which were patterned with gold embroidery, whilst some were plain. There were more decorative pillows on this magnificent bed than the Doomguide had ever seen before in her life.

 

Closing her now slightly opened mouth, Rhaine walked over to one of the settees, carefully removing her pack from her back and beginning to take out her essentials. After laying out her clothing, she paused a moment to glance out of the open window and peer down at the darkened courtyard before becoming satisfied that it was safe enough to finally change out of her armor. If the sheer height of the smooth walls wasn’t enough to placate her, she also knew that the fearsome black leopards Anhsu and Nesati freely patrolled the halls of the estate…

 

She quickly and expertly removed her armor, arming vest, and breeches, and slipped into her nightdress, an audible sigh escaping her lips as the soft black satin spilled over her body. It had been what seemed like forever since the last time she was able to wear it; her skin and sore limbs welcomed the respite. She then set aside her armor to be polished and cleaned in the morning, and her vest and breeches she neatly folded beside it.

 

Another gust of wind caused the fabric around the room to flutter softly. It was an odd mixture of cool and warm, and it felt delightful to her bare arms and back. The air in this portion of the world was exponentially drier than that of the nearby Shaaran plains. Because of this, the half-elf found she could breathe so much better here in Mulhorand, and she inhaled deeply of the spicy-scented breeze as she began combing out her tangled scarlet tresses.

 

Suddenly, after a few moments, her eyes caught movement in the deep shadows of the corners of the room, and she paused, her heart skipping a beat. She slowly lowered her ivory comb and began reaching towards her boot where Ravenna’s dagger was sheathed…

 

…but she halted abruptly as a familiar shiver ran down her spine. The shadows flickered ever-so-slightly and pulled behind her, swiftly coalescing from their soft, wispy, fingerlike tendrils into a solid form, the materialization of which she barely had time to turn around and glimpse. She bowed deeply even as her eyes were widened in momentary astonishment. Her surprise at her god’s appearance, however, was quickly replaced with a palpable feeling of serenity that she had forgotten since the last time they had had a discussion with each other in the waking world; the sensation was strong in dreams, but in reality, it was magnified tenfold.

 

“My lord,” she greeted him, averting her eyes for a few moments out of respect, “It has been a while since we have spoken…this way. To what do I owe the honor?” She then allowed her gaze to take in his form from foot to head, surprised again to see him in a bit different garb than usual. Though the basic design of his attire was the same, he was outfitted in dark forest green – almost black – robes and a matching cloak, the former high-waisted and cut for riding. It was cinched, too, with a broad black leather belt, embroidered in silver. His gauntlets and boots were a rich chocolate brown, his black breeches tucked into the knee-high suede. A matching russet, collared tunic was visible at his neck. His mask, however, was ever the same, appearing – as it typically did – almost suspended in the deep shadows of his cowl. The almost liquid-like silver caught the glint of the braziers and simultaneously glowed eerily in the moonlight.

 

The hue of his new apparel was beautifully complimentary to the scarlet and gold of the room, and Rhaine was suddenly struck with the sense that his surroundings matched his regal demeanor. She grinned broadly, adding cheekily, “And might I say that, since you have approved of my penchant for black clothing, green suits you admirably well.”

 

There were a few moments of silence before he answered simply, “Perhaps.” He paused again, the moments passing like hours until he spoke once more. “As for my reason for being here, I know that your dreams have been…corrupted…as of late. It would not be wise for me to project myself into them until such matters are long since resolved. Clarity is paramount in our communications, and if I must go this route in order to achieve it, then I shall.”

 

“I…understand, my lord,” Rhaine replied, rubbing her temples with her forefingers, “And I am…very grateful for your presence. Here. Now. I feel I cannot trust my dreams as of late, but I know I can trust you.” She chuckled half-heartedly, “Seems the only time I can really be myself is when you’re around.” She trailed off, glancing away, and the silence between them was almost deafening before she awkwardly continued, “But please forgive me for my rambling. Is there something you wish to tell me?”

 

“There is something you wish to tell me, first, is there not?” His question shot like an arrow straight to her core, and the prompt that he was at least mildly aware of her feelings and thoughts caused her to swallow forcefully, her eyes fixing to his masked face. Despite the sense of familiarity between them, there was always the undercurrent of divine power and authority that was more than a little intimidating, even after all this time. It was the constant and not-so-subtle reminder that he was the judge of all souls, and even hers was under scrutiny.

 

“I..” she hesitated. She always seemed to have to think whenever he sprang this sort of query upon her, as if the concerns of which he spoke were buried deep behind a wall somewhere. Yet, it did not take her long to find them. Memories of Tak’we’s death surfaced to her mind, along with feelings of sorrow, regret, and even some resentment. After all…these things she would look forward to as long as she drew breath on the Prime – grief at the deaths of her companions, over and over again, for decades…perhaps even centuries if she was lucky and he was willing…

 

All because she was Chosen. It was the agonizing downside of his gift. How bittersweet it was; such a taste of eternal life would also bring such excruciating pain. How was a mortal mind supposed to come to terms with the harsh realities of immortality? This concern she, at last, voiced to him.

 

“My lord…I do not mean to sound ungrateful for this gift of youthful life you have bestowed upon me. But events of the recent past have made me think of what is in store for my future. I…” her voice shook a little with nervousness, as she prayed he would not take offense at her words, “How…how can I, for possibly hundreds of years, cope with that which I have been trained to help others to handle in their brief lifetimes? How can I…prevent myself from going mad with grief? Everyone will die, yes - this I know. And I know those who follow me do so at their own risk…I shall allow myself to mourn, as you have told me, and I will no longer blame myself for their untimely demises, should they occur. Yet how can I prevent myself from doing nothing but mourn? As the years go by, the numbers of the fallen will only grow. I…” her eyes began to feel hot with emotion, and she remembered her talk with Arland not so long ago, and the recollection of their discussion fueled her thoughts. “I love them dearly, as my own family…how can I let them go forever? How can I bury them all behind my mask of duty? How can I let the decades lengthen and think of them no more? How can I leave them behind without sacrificing my own heart? Sacrificing my own sense of self? You have told me that it is human to feel…and all of your doctrine says to us to live our days as if they are our last on the Prime. Please, tell me, my lord…is the ever-increasing anguish worth the ostensibly rarer moments of sweetness?”

 

The stillness that followed was unnaturally quiet…so much so that she held her breath in anticipation of his words. When he finally answered her, the soft sigh that preceded his voice momentarily soothed the edginess of her nerves, “And once again, you find yourself almost wishing to be like me so that you may avoid a life of pain…whilst truly ignorant of that for which you wish.”

 

His reply shamed her, and she felt a fool for mentioning these things to him…for wasting his time. Could she not be strong enough to deal with it on her own? To learn to cope as time went on? Did she not have the common sense to understand that time would, indeed, heal all wounds for her? That a prolonged life might, in fact, make the grieving easier? Her embarrassment briefly made her feel unworthy of his presence and his boons, and, as she had done before, her harshness to her own self only served to destabilize her emotionally. She found herself wanting to run away from him, to hide from that flawless face, to wriggle out from under that soul-piercing gaze…

 

Unable to do any of that, of course, Rhaine felt hot tears suddenly spill down her cheeks instead. The Doomguide sank to her knees before the feet of her lord and hid her face in her hands, suddenly overwhelmed with a fury of emotions she had indeed shoved behind a metaphorical wall. Just as she had done in the City of Judgment, she wept uncontrollably in front of him, and her remembrance of such a similar event hit her with the force of someone slapping her in the face, causing her to punch the marble floor with a choking cry, “Gods and damnation, why do you always do this to me?!”

 

Before Kelemvor could form a reply, there was a sudden scuffling noise outside the door. At that moment, Rhaine gasped aloud as Arland Grey burst into her room, his flaming swords held at the ready and a determined flash in his eyes.

 

"Alright, why're you crying, who's always doing what to you and where are they so I can stab them?" he asked as he warily crept into the chamber and kicked the door shut behind him. At that moment, Rhaine realized that Kelemvor must have been entirely invisible to the youngest Grey; she could clearly see her god casually stride over to one of the divans and sit down, yet Arland seemed completely oblivious to his presence. The god crossed one leg and leaned back, and Rhaine felt a slight hint of amusement tickling the back of her mind – apparently, he was not finished with his business, but he would wait patiently until Arland was gone.

 

“Arland!” Rhaine cried as she tore her gaze away from her patron and pushed herself up from the cold marble floor, quickly crossing her arms atop her chest out of self-consciousness. “It’s nothing…really. I just…was a little overwhelmed by recent events, is all.” She sniffed, and then chuckled nervously, “Suppose…you could say my mask fell down a bit.”

 

"Then who the stlarn are you talking to? You were hardly quiet about it; I didn't have to have my ear up to the door to hear you. But I don't see anyone in here, either." He looked around the room with his eyes narrowed, his expression one of suspicion.

 

“I…um…” she grinned sheepishly, “Well…sort of…myself.”

 

Arland cocked his head at her, one incredulous eyebrow raised in confusion. "That could just be Xal playing pranks on you. Or Annette. Or Amendale. Or…Kalin.”

 

Rhaine rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, growing more than a little impatient with him, “No, Arland. I’m fairly certain none of them are involved.”

 

“Dammit I always knew you were crazy," he muttered, and then added, “Next time we fight I'm pleading innocent because you're mentally unfit to out-logic me. Now where's the assassin?” His swords flared brightly with orange flame as he glanced around the room once more; the warrior was apparently still convinced something was not as it should be.

 

“There is no assassin!” Rhaine exclaimed, her eyes flicking almost unbidden towards the divan, which did not even show signs of a weight being borne on its cushions. “Trust me…I would know.”

 

Arland's eyes narrowed again, "Well if there's an assassin in here that's exactly what he'd tell you to say."

 

The Doomguide smacked her forehead forcefully with her palm, “Arland…there’s nothing to be worried about. I’m fine. You can put away your swords, for the gods’ sakes.” She paused as she suddenly noticed his half-shaven face, “And…why is your beard smoking?”

 

Arland gingerly touched the side of his face, only to touch it with a hiss. He yelped and pulled his hand away, shaking it. "Yep, baby-smooth. These make some pretty good razors." He indicated his blades, "The fire really helps."

 

“You…were shaving with your swords?”

 

"Hells yeah,” he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiring whisper as he added, “I think Marie'll like it.” His lips then pulled up into a cheeky, suave grin.

 

Rhaine reflected his smile with her own, “I must admit, a clean-shaven man is certainly more attractive, in my book.”

 

"Kelemvor, write this down somewhere..." Arland muttered, and then added, "So what's going on?"

 

“ARLAND!” Rhaine shrieked, positively mortified at his suggestion, “You should be ashamed and beg forgiveness for such blasphemous thoughts!” She could have slapped him across the face for being so audacious and impossibly imprudent, and she felt her cheeks turning scarlet as the bedclothes as her hands simultaneously curled into fists. “Nothing is-“

 

At that moment, Kelemvor released the power that had veiled him from Arland’s detection, and he rose from his seat to tower over the warrior, moving with sudden and swift grace. The words he then spoke were laced with hints of sarcasm.

 

“I do believe my memory is good enough, Arland Grey.”

 

Rhaine’s hands flew to her mouth as her god revealed himself, and she swayed precariously with her eyes closed as she was still recovering from Arland’s embarrassingly stupid and thoughtless statement. Panic arrested her as she wondered what Kelemvor would do in answer to the Grey’s foolishness.

 

Meanwhile, Arland looked up at Kelemvor. Despite the God of the Dead himself towering over him by several inches, Arland brazenly lifted an eyebrow and inquired, "Yeah who's this guy and why's he here?"

 

Rhaine’s eyes widened as large as saucers, and she audibly groaned as she turned to lean on the edge of the bed with her head in her hand, “Arland…this…is Kelemvor.” In her thoughts, she added, you insufferable fool!

 

At that, there was a horrendously long and just-as-awkward silence. Arland squinted at Kelemvor skeptically, "Hm, no wonder you were so frantic." He then shrugged, sheathed his blades and held out his hand, "Good to meet ya. I'm Arland Grey...although I think you've figured that out for yourself…uh...would ‘my lord’ be alright or do you have a better idea?”

 

After another long and uncomfortable pause, Kelemvor finally replied, “That is generally how supplicants address me, though my name and my titles are all equal. It is your choice.” He then moved with the swiftness of a viper and took Arland’s proffered hand in a grip that could not be wriggled out of, “Just as is your faith, is it not, Arland Grey? Your devotion to Tempus is wavering. Has the Lord of Battles fallen short of your expectations?”

 

Rhaine swallowed hard and watched with rapt attention as Kelemvor seized Arland’s hand and exposed his vacillating faith. She prayed that if the youngest Grey had not taken her god seriously in the previous moments, then he was now. If this was all that Kelemvor would do to him, then Arland was walking way lucky.

 

Arland hid a wince as Kelemvor's adamantine grip crushed his hand, and he looked up at the god with the ghost of uncertainty etched into his features. "You make it sound like I wronged him somehow. No, he didn't fall short of my expectations. Just took some outside influences to smack into my head that maybe I don't want to spend eternity cutting people to pieces for no real reason. I mean, ‘for the hells of it’ is a reason I guess. But no, that's not what I want."

 

Kelemvor released his hold on Arland and nodded, “It is good that you realize that…instead of comprehending all too late what your soul will be doing for eternity. There is…some wisdom in you.” He turned his head sideways to Rhaine, “Speak with my Chosen of this, if you desire. She may help you find which one of us who does call to you.”

 

Rhaine nodded emphatically, “It would be my pleasure.”

 

Arland didn't miss a beat and nodded as well, "Thank you, my lord. Although to be fair...Rhaine's part of what made me decide as much."

 

“Indeed. Yet, I must warn you to take care in this,” Kelemvor replied, “Though changing faiths may seem trivial to mortals, it is not a simple matter to we gods. You have not wronged him, no. Not yet. But mind that you do not forget Tempus on the eve of battle, even though your devotion may no longer be to his goals.”

 

"Of course. Even I'm not that stupid,” Arland answered, before adding, “Uh...my lord.”

 

“Good,” was Kelemvor’s response, “Now…if you are quite satisfied that my Chosen is safe, might I ask you to leave us to the discussion that you kindly interrupted with your concern?”

 

Arland studied Kelemvor extensively, "Why'd you go invisible? What were you two up to?"

 

The god retorted immediately with no small amount of authority in his tone, “Because whether or not I make myself present to others and to whom I do so is my affair alone. And you are in no position to question for what reason.”

 

Kelemvor's tone made the hair on the back of Arland's neck – and the non-enflamed hairs on his face – prickle with irritation, "I think I am, because I heard Rhaine in tears. That's not something that happens often, and I don't like it. So why was she crying, my lord? Smite me for asking if you like, but I stick up for my friends."

 

“Your dedication is admirable.” His response was flat and short, “However, she will tell you if and when she wishes, and not before. Now…out with you.”

 

The Grey's eyes narrowed once more, "If you insist...my lord." The pain it caused him to swallow his pride and address Kelemvor as such was obvious, but he nodded to Rhaine and backed out of the room, nevertheless. A few seconds passed before he yelled "I’ma finish shaving!"

 

After he had gone, Rhaine stood a few moments in terrible silence before looking upon her patron with an expression of horror on her face, “I…am exceedingly regretful for his audacity, my lord. Please, forgive me for my irrational outburst…and him for his damnable ignorance! I can’t believe-”

 

He held up a gloved hand to silence her, “It is not worth wasting your breath over, Rhaine.”

 

She shook with anger as she stared daggers through the closed doors, “I’ve a mind to-“

 

The Doomguide was abruptly halted mid-sentence as he stepped closer; his hands were suddenly upon her outspread wings, gently folding them back to her sides and smoothing the multitude of raised feathers down their limbs.

 

“Calm yourself,” he commanded, and before she could protest or say anything else, he cast a Calming spell to make sure she complied. The power worked quickly, and she wearily let herself perch on the edge of the mattress. Her fury dissolved, all that was left was sorrow and melancholy.

 

“I’m sorry,” she finally replied quietly, glancing down and away from him, because it was too agonizing to look upon him.

 

“Stop saying that.” His words were firm, as was his grip, which arrested her attention. She said nothing more so as not to risk angering him, as she feared she was doing.

 

He leaned close, so that his face was unavoidable, and he did not release his hold on her as he spoke, “Listen to me. Relish the time you have here, Rhaine. As I have told you once before, I will tell you again: savor your journeys on the Prime, for despite your agelessness, there will come a day when you will be able to do so no longer. Anguish and agony are natural accompaniments of love and joy. And as your gallant comrade Arland has told you, such things as momentary happiness are indeed worth the pain that inevitably shall come. You may not think so now, when such wounds are so fresh…but you will when they are ultimately beyond your grasp…”

 

He backed away, “Unless, of course, you find something in the planes beyond the Prime that pleases you as much as the mortal world can. Perhaps you shall. But in the event that is not possible, I would advise you to hold on to the precious moments you have here, when you have them. Remember what is good of your brave companions and the gifts that they give you – however small they may be. And each moment that you smile, that you laugh, that you love…these things are gifts to be treasured for as long as you can remember them. They shall ease the sting of inexorable loss.”

 

Rhaine bowed her head as she absorbed his words, and as she often did, she felt humbled by his wisdom. In a way, she already knew what he had just told her – knew it from his own teachings. Yet, at the same time, she had needed him to make it clear…needed him to provide some sense of comfort. He was the only one close to her who understood what it was she would face in the future, and how she could contend with it. Amendale and Nawen might, of course…but what if she lived even longer than they?

 

“Thank you for your words, my lord,” she whispered, tears once again stinging her eyes, but this time out of sheer gratitude, not sadness, “Thank you… for tolerating my trivial worries and putting my mind at ease. That you do this for me…” she looked up at him with a weak smile, “I do not feel that am worthy of such attention from you…and I will never feel as though I can repay you for everything that you have given me, except by dedicating all that I have and all of my being to you and your service…a vow I have already made, and one that I will never forget.”

 

He placed a hand on top of her head, his fingers reaching almost to the tips of her pointed ears, “By continuing your quests and furthering my cause in the Realms, you repay me enough. I think you shall find that we are eternally in debt to each other, yes? Such is the way between the divine and their favored servants. This brings me to what I originally came here to address…

 

“Continue your collaboration with the followers of Osiris. They know of the activities around the halls of the revered dead more than anyone else in these lands. They should be willing to help you, once they know of your goals, and I have sent word to Osiris himself that what you do here is important for his people. He and I are of like mind on many subjects, and I am sure if the greater figures of his clergy become obstacles, he will send them an appropriate sign. Such is his way.”

 

He removed his comforting hand and added, “But do expect some modicum of trouble. They would naturally be suspicious of a servant of an ‘outsider’ god, and so some of them will be reluctant to tell you anything. Yet, you have gained a friend in Imhiros, and his word as a paladin carries great weight. Let him assist you in every way he can, and your progress will go much more swiftly.”

 

Rhaine inclined her head, “Of course, my lord. I shall do so.”

 

He nodded, his mask shimmering, “Then…if there is nothing else…I shall take my leave of you, now. There is much yet for you to do, my Chosen, and you need to rest both mind and body.” He stepped away and began to fade just as he had appeared, his form dissolving into soft, shadowy wisps until all that remained was his mask floating in midair.

 

“Pass on my blessings to Arland Grey,” he added, “Though his tongue is, perhaps, too loose…his heart is in the right place. His courage should serve you well in the future…if his lack of common sense does not kill him, first.”

 

With that, the mask, too, vanished, leaving Rhaine alone in the chamber once more. She half-heartedly chuckled again, shaking her head, and then her lips pulled into a wry grin, “Oh yes, my lord…I shall deliver your blessings...sooner, rather than later. Along with something else I cannot resist.”

 

She rose from her seat on the edge of the bed and strode swiftly out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Moving quickly in bare feet on the chilly marble floor, her nightgown fluttering, she burst into Arland’s room as suddenly as he had barged into hers. He jumped when she entered, having just resumed shaving with his magical blades after removing his armor, and now he was clad only in his white linen shirt and brown breeches.

 

“Ow!” he exclaimed as his startled reaction caused one of the blades to slip, burning his face, “That’s twice now-“

 

SMACK!

 

Before he could react, Rhaine’s hand sailed straight for his face, slapping him directly in the mouth with full force.

 

“My lord wishes me to convey his blessings to you,” she said, hands on her hips, “despite your painful lack of decorum and embarrassing impudence. I must admit, I’m rather surprised he was not so displeased with your lack of respect. But I would not push your luck with any more blasphemous ideas, Arland Grey.”

 

"Blasphemous ideas...?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "I don't recall saying anything blasphemous. Not like I asked about the dead getting up to dance, so what're you on about?"

 

She snorted, “Oh, forgot already? How about suggesting that my lordship keep track of my preferences in men for future reference?”

 

Arland snorted right back at her. "Oh, please, that's anything but blasphemous. What, either of you heard of sarcasm? Humor? A good chuckle, perhaps? And besides, I'm sure your patron god could put that information to good use if he so wished. There's a practical side to it all."

 

“That was not humorous in the least!” she hissed, “And it was an entirely inappropriate way to invoke a god’s attentions! To assume he would want such information…by the Hells, Arland, have you no shame?”

 

Rhaine spun on her heel, “Of course you don’t. You’re not the type. One day, you may regret that…but I doubt you will.” The Doomguide glanced back over her shoulder in the doorway, “Since I also doubt that your excessive pride is wounded in the least, I thought you should at least have a physical reprimand. And if that hurts too much for you to bear, then might I suggest getting dear Marie to kiss it all better for you?”

 

With that, the Doomguide left his room and promptly returned to her chambers. As she departed, Arland managed to get in a sharp retort, “Jealous, are we?” This, however, she chose to ignore, and she made no reply, slamming and locking her doors behind her.

 

Rhaine extinguished all of the lights and tossed herself into the bed, burying herself in the pillows and coverlets and trying desperately to forget her rage and Arland’s offense until, at last, she fell asleep.

[Llhunara]

Following Sasiu the half-elf was soon presented with two choices. Run along and pick her room as the different quarters were on a first come first serve basis, or ditch the housing complex completely and head straight for the bathhouse itself. There was mention of water being drawn in the individual rooms, but that meant such baths were not yet prepared. The bathhouse on the other hand had been mentioned to house larger bathing areas, ones that were no doubt kept full and warm around the clock since guests were allowed to enter whenever they pleased. Besides the rooms were probably equally in amenities anyway.

 

Having sunk to the back of the group as they made their way towards the building with the sleeping quarters, Llhunarra doesn’t even follow them in. Slipping away into the darkness she heads towards the aforementioned bathhouse. Wine glass in hand, the red head having taken it from the dining hall, she takes another sip of the delicious mixture as she approaches the structure. A bath and plenty left in her flask to drink, a perfect end to the long day.

 

Making her way through another one of the portico’s that seemed to protect each and every entrance on the grounds, Llhunarra was surprised at how easily one of the heavy double doors was to open. Covered in ornate carvings the giant stone slab must have been perfectly balanced on its hinges for the female to so effortlessly move it, Dwarven construction no doubt. Stepping in she was greeted with the same quality of architecture that she had come to expect, the marble and stone in the building of a lighter shade than that of the dining hall.

 

Turning back to look at the door as it silently swung shut the rogue almost jumps when a voice calls out behind her. “Evening M'Lady, how might we make you comfortable this warm night?”

 

Pulling her eyes from the door she looks over to the woman, glad in a simple white dress like the rest, Llhunarra couldn’t help but notice how pretty this one was. It was most likely not a mistake she was stationed in the bathhouse. “Ummm I was looking to enjoy a long soak if that is all right and please, my name is Llhunarra.”

 

“Of course, Miss Llhunarra.” The girl states with a slight nod of apology. “We have private rooms that we can prepare for you or there are larger public rooms that are always ready to accept guests. The choice is yours.”

 

“Oh public is fine with me, as long as the water is warm I could care less how private it is.” She responds with a smile, taking another sip of her drink, second glass now getting a little low.

 

“Right this way then, let me show you where you can store your items as there is no need for armor or weapons in these halls.” The servant then turns on her heel to take them deeper into the structure. Turning off down a side hall she motions to the room that opened up on the left. “In here you shall find adequate place to store your items and robes to wear if you desire. When you are ready I will be waiting and can show you to the bath itself.”

 

Offering a smile in thanks she scampers into the room. Cabinets lined the wall with benches before them, although they did not seem to be that deep. Biting her lower lip a little she sets her glass down on a bench and begins to strip. With deft fingers she unclasps and unfastens her leather armor, quick to loosen it and start removing various sections. With her armor soon removed and set along the bench she opens a cabinet to look inside. There was no way all her belongings would fit in one of these. For a moment she contemplates calling the girl in, but decides against it. However, when she starts to place her armor in the container each piece fits with ease. Before long all of the leather that normally adorned her body was within and there seemed to be plenty of room to spare. Chewing at her lower lip in confusion she shrugs it off and also slides her blades in, both fitting with ease. Last came the thin clothes she wore underneath and her undergarments. The only three items that did not go in were her glass, flask and the amulet that hung around her neck.

 

Throwing on one of the grey robes found hanging in the room, most likely not white as to separate them from the servants garb, she shivers a little as the cool material covers her skin. Scooping up her wine glass and flask she heads back out, the servant girl waiting in the hall as she said she would be. With a motion of her hand she leads the way towards one of the bathing rooms.

 

Slightly distract as they walk due to carefully trying to fill her glass, Llhunarra isn’t even aware of exactly how they arrive at the room. The large circular area was relatively empty beyond the large steaming pool that dominated its center. Some benches lined the wall for those that did have belongings to set down or perhaps wished to just enjoy the humid air.

 

“As you please, Miss Llhunarra. All you need do is clap if you desire anything.” With that and a small smile she gives a small bow before excusing herself from the room.

 

Glass refilled at this point the half-elf returns a smile of her own before turning her attention to the warm pool itself. Stepping over to its edge she dips her foot into the warm water, smiling spreading to take in her ears as its warmth. Moving to place her glass and flask down near the deeper side of the pool she then shrugs her robe off. Whether it was because it was just after dinner or the grounds were rather empty at the moment she was currently alone. Gliding over to the steps she wastes little time descending them, the hot temperature only slowing her some. Glad for the cleansing water she dips down all the way, submerging herself towards the center of the pool.

 

Rising back to her feet as the soothing water runs off the three braids at the back of her head she lets out a loud sigh of relief. Body warm now she coasts over towards where she had set her belongings, turning to rest along the slightly slanted edge, an underwater bench built into the side of the pool supporting her. Taking a sip of her drink she then sets the glass back down so she can then sink into the water, submerged enough so the water rises to her upper chest as she rests her head back on the lip of the bath. Letting out another long sigh she slowly lets her eyes close. Perfect.

Edited November 11, 2014 by Llhunara

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen followed Sasiu, eagerly awaiting to see the guest quarters, and most importantly rest. She looked around as they walked, her gaze filled with amazement. She had never seen such luxury in her life, and while everything she saw from architecture to various artwork she couldn't help but feel out of place. Fancy estate wasn't somewhere she belonged to, wilds and cheap inns were.

 

When they were shown the rooms, Nawen picked one of the rooms closer to the end of the hall, and asked one of the servants for water to be drawn for the room she picked and said goodnight to others before entering the room. Her mouth dropped open as she saw just how beautiful and large her room was. "I've been in taverns smaller than this room." She said to herself as she marveled at the beauty of it all. Thankfully, the servant she talked to wasn't particularly chatty and she prepared everything while Nawen was gawking at the lavish furniture and decor. When the servant was finished, Nawen thanked the girl and began taking out most essential things from her pack. She took out her casual clothing for tomorrow as well as a shirt she slept in before stripping and heading for the bath. She bathed quickly and slipped into her sleeping shirt but instead of going to sleep she sat on the bed with her legs crossed in front of her as she sharpened her blade with a whetstone.

 

Shalena followed Sasiu as well, her attention mostly focused on the expensive items. She picked her room, dumped her things on the lavish couch, changed into a robe and left the room again heading straight to the bathhouse. As she reached the bathhouse one of the servants informed her about the room where she could put her things, but the piratess only chuckled replying with: "If you think I wear anything underneath these robes, dear, you are mistaken," she said before heading towards the pool.

 

Shalena was pleasantly surprised to see she wasn't the only one here: Llhunara was here as well, already relaxing in the bath. "I was wondering where you ran off to," she said as she approached the bath before pulling a bottle of fine wine from her robe, "found this on my way here," she chuckled, "don't tell anyone." She chuckled again before taking off her robe and joining the half-elf in the pool.

Edited November 11, 2014 by Guest

[Llhunara]

Llhunarra opens one eye at the sound of a voice, offering a small smile to the piratess. Sitting up a little now that she had company the rogue’s small smile turns into a grin as Shalena slips a wine bottle out from her robe. She liked this one more and more. “What a wonderful item to come across…although I do already have a drink of mine own. If you do not mind sharing than neither do I, the more the merrier I say.” The half-elf then reaching some to grab her wine glass from the edge of the pool.

 

Her turn sends small ripples across the surface of the water as the other female drops her robes and makes her way into the warm water. It appeared Shalena cared little for modesty. Such notions were a waste of one’s time; too many people spent their lives caring highly for the opinions of others. Llhunarra lived for herself and that was just how she liked it so no matter how many people might arrive it was not going to stop her from enjoying the soothing bath water.

 

“Wonderful isn’t it? I have not had a bath like this in ages I must admit…please do not think any less of me.” The statement followed by a small chuckle as she lifts her glass to her lips for a sip. She figured out of all of them the sea faring Shalena could relate the most, after all when on the ocean crews often went months without a proper cleaning.

[josh900]

Tannin made his way to the bathhouse as well, though he took his time getting there as he stopped to admire some of the artwork and statues. Entering the first room with the cabinets and robes, he began to quickly remove his clothing. Nearly halfway through a young servant girl entered the room, before she could speak however Tannin help up a hand to stop her. "I know how these places work dear, thank you. I'll find my way around."

With a nod, a quick once over of his body, and a smile that showed her approval, the young woman left him to finish undressing.

 

When he finished he put on one of the robes and made his way to the public bath. He much preferred them as often times bathhouses put more care into the quality of the water and soaps of the public baths than the private ones.

 

He almost walked in without a care before hearing the voices of Shalena and Llhunarra. For the sake of their own modesty he knocked on the side of the wall before entering. "Evening ladies. There room enough for one more or shall I find a private bath?"

-------------------

 

Deciding that he was quite tired, Azuris followed to the bedrooms and picked one out without any thought, however upon opening the door he was met with the sight of a half naked Kender, passed out on top of the bed.

With a relieved sigh he shut the door and chuckled. "Well at least he wasn't getting into trouble." He said as he went for another room.

Edited November 11, 2014 by josh900

[Deleted6317247User]

"That's why I brought the bottle here," Shalena chuckled as she drew closer with a bottle of wine in hand in case the glass Llhunarra held was empty. "It is wonderful," the piratess agreed and chuckled at Llhunarra saying not to think less of her, "oh please, dear," she said, "despite spending so much time in water pirates are known as filthiest people in the Realms." She laughed but before she could say anything more she noticed Tannin. "There sure is," she said back to him, "and I don't mind you joining us if Llhunarra doesn't."

Edited November 12, 2014 by Guest

[Llhunara]

Chuckling with Shalena as she says exactly what the rogue had been thinking, she was about to offer her glass over for some wine when a knock. Looking to the sound she hears a male voice ask if he may join them. Glancing at Shalena she lets the piratess answer first, the rogue smirking at her response. "Come join us, I do not mind...but you cannot have any of our wine." Her voice rising some with the last part although she was only joking. Reminded of the wine she offers her glass to the other female. "Feel free to try some of mine as well...its a bit stronger than wine." Although her glass was half full still she didn't mind mixing them. The rogue didn't have many rules she followed, but there was one she never broke. Never turn down a free drink.

 

[AurianaValoria1]

As Zorica made her way to the bathhouse, she couldn't stop looking up and around at the beauty that was all about her. Menarses’s estate was unlike anything the half-drow had ever laid eyes on. Her younger self would have died of astonishment from seeing so many priceless treasures lying around, free for the taking – golden and ivory statuettes; bronze, gold, and brass candelabras; crystal goblets and amphorae; velvet cushions and silk throws…it was almost too much to take in all at once.

 

Not wanting to socialize with the others and also not wanting to restrict herself to the much smaller, private baths, Zorica found another public pool in the rear of the bathhouse, presumably in case two separate groups managed to occupy the estate at the same time. This one was more like a swimming area, free of underwater benches and at least ten feet deep. She cautiously entered the chamber, glancing around to make sure she was alone. Then, satisfied she would not be disturbed, she quickly removed her armor and clothing, left her belongings by the waters' edge, and eagerly dove into the pool with a splash...

 

------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The marble floors glittered in the low firelight of the braziers, and the clear moonlight from the balcony cast a silver sheen on the polished stone. She had been extremely cautious while getting out of the large bathing pool; one misstep with a wet foot on the slippery floor and down she’d go.

 

How long she had remained in the warm water, she was not certain. However, the moon was already quite high, judging from the intensity of its light upon the floor from where it streamed through the side portico's archways, and so she concluded that she must have been there at least a few hours.

 

The half-drow dried herself quickly and pulled on her white blouse and dark breeches, shivering slightly from the fresh and spicy-scented breeze that hit her dampened skin. The garments felt horribly dingy now that she’d washed herself, as they were clogged with dust and sand from the road. She remained barefoot, unwilling to put her clean feet in her old boots for the time being and enjoying the feel of the cool marble on her soles. She left the boots in a pile near her pack, and she sat on a red velvet cushion to comb her wet, raven-black hair. It had plastered itself to her silvery-grey forehead, and she peeled it from her skin with careful fingers before brushing it straight back.

 

The doors creaked open from the far side of the room. In walked Amendale, still clad in the white desert clothing that he'd worn during the day, despite the hour approaching midnight. Zorica had slipped into the shadows instinctively, uncertain who the intruder was, and thus the moon elf didn't see anyone when he looked around. Surprised but unfazed at the emptiness of the room, he shrugged and approached the pool. He took the stark cowl upon his head and dropped it to the floor, which was quickly followed by most of the rest of his clothing, save for a pair of trousers. He knelt down and felt the water and, evidently not pleased with the result, stood back up with a frown and waved his hand, heating the water with magic.

 

Zorica, meanwhile, was enjoying the view, having seen Amendale shirtless for the first time. Though he was not as muscular as she had thought, he was certainly toned from travel and mild combat, and he was well-proportioned. As she watched him kneel over the water, an impulsive and mischievous thought crossed her mind, and she began tiptoeing as silent as a cat towards him, sneaking up on him from behind. Without warning, she pushed him into the pool, laughing as he hit the water face first, the sound ringing around the marble hall like the tolling of a bell.

 

Amendale only just caught the smallest whisper of sound before an invisible force propelled him painfully and gracelessly into the water. Alarmed, he spun himself around once underwater and sprung up to his feet as fast as he could, speeding out of the suddenly-disturbed waters with flames whirling around his hands as he prepared for combat. Instead, he found Zorica.

 

Instantly, the wreaths of fire vanished and he visibly relaxed. He shook his head and then, with a smirk on his face, said, "Alright, you got me, elven hearing and all." He shook his head, his face dropping subtly. "I apologize for that overzealous overreaction. I've been much more paranoid than I'd prefer as of late."

 

She gave him a sly grin, “And my apologies for startling you, though it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

 

Amendale laughed, "I guess it was. Well played...but I'll get you back for it." He grinned playfully at her.

 

She snickered, “I’d like to see you try.”

 

Without missing a beat, Amendale burst into movement, his hands flaring with magic. He melodramatically waggled his fingers at her and suddenly she felt much smaller...and fuzzier. The elf had gestured so quickly she couldn’t make out the pattern, and she felt his magic hit her before she could even react. He had whispered the words to a Polymorph spell, and now….

 

…now she was an adorable smoke-grey kitten with glowing amber eyes.

 

Zorica opened her mouth to speak, only to hear herself meow rather squeakily. She looked up at the elf with nothing but rage, and her fur stood on end as she hissed loudly, swiping at him with fishhook claws. Amendale grinned like a child with candy as he danced teasingly out of the way of Zorica's enraged frenzy of kitten-claws and adorability. As she came at him again and again, Amendale began to laugh. He then reached down and scooped up the enraged feline before him.

 

"I think the kitty needs a bath!" He exclaimed, before tossing the poofy ball of rage into the pool.

 

Just as fast as he had before, Amendale cast a quick spell that brought her back to her natural form and laughed lightheartedly as she spluttered and thrashed. Having achieved his vengeance, he offered his hand to help her out of the pool.

 

Zorica, still steaming with fury, grabbed his hand and used him as leverage to pull herself out of the water. Sopping wet now, her undergarments and skin were clearly visible under her white shirt, and she self-consciously covered herself by crossing her arms. Glaring at him, she had but one word in response.

 

“Touché.”

 

Amendale, still feeling cheeky, decided that the best possible course of action at that point in time would be to smile at Zorica...and then half-grab, half-tackle her and propel them both into the pool. He surfaced quickly, laughing. She yelped as he forced her back into the water with him, tumbling as she fell beneath the surface with a great splash. The half-drow kicked and swam beneath him, taking him by the ankles and yanking him under.

 

Amendale gasped as he went down, swallowing water before he could close his mouth. He wrenched his ankle from her grip and twisted around beneath the surface of the water and pulled her down with him. He grinned underwater again and suddenly the water's temperature dropped to sub-zero temperatures. Zorica’s amber eyes went wide with shock and she rocketed straight to the surface, she, too, gasping aloud as her face broke the water.

 

Amendale scrambled out of the bath as fast as he could, having made it so cold that the cool desert air actually felt warm on his soaking skin. He restored it to a warm temperature for Zorica and sat there, huffing with laughter even as his teeth chattered.

 

"I think I win that one." He taunted, looking at her.

 

She spent a few breaths in silence, panting as she stared at him with a predatory gaze. Then, with the swiftness of a snake, she leapt out of the water and pounced on him, pinning his arms and legs down with expert precision and leaning on his joints, “I don’t give up so easily, elf.”

 

Amendale struggled in vain to get out of the lock, even trying to roll himself over back into the pool, but it was for naught. He stopped resisting and looked at her, shuddering as freezing water from her hair dripped down onto his face.

 

"Hells, that's cold!" He gasped.

 

She chuckled, her breath shaky as she, too, was shivering, “I know…you did it.” She then flipped off of him and grabbed a nearby throw, not caring if she ruined it as she wrapped it around her drenched form.

 

He shuddered with laughter and rolled over, pushing himself up. "You started it!" He declared, gold eyes wide with mock innocence. The water covering him hissed as it turned to steam and rolled off of his body before dissipating, and suddenly he was bone-dry.

 

Zorica’s mouth dropped open, “H-hey! A little of that over here w-w-would be n-n-nice!” Her teeth really were starting to chatter as the strengthening nighttime breeze blew through the marble room.

 

Amendale shrugged, "I don't know, I mean it takes effort and you pushed me in a pool...I think I ought to leave you chattering away there for a while." His lips curled and his eyes glinted with mischief.

 

The half-drow started to say something but then stopped, her own eyes narrowing. She studied him keenly…and perhaps she let her gaze linger a little more than she had at first intended. There was something about the way he stood there, grinning like a trickster at her...and his elven features were not as pronounced as most of his kind, lending him a sort of innocent, impish charm. Still, his countenance was like all elves’ in that it was beautifully chiseled, and the sharpness of his gold eyes against his silvery complexion struck her like the stabbing of a knife. It was as if, after all this time, she had just now noticed his catlike physique, grace, and…yes…handsomeness.

 

But this revelation made her all the more aware of her sodden state, barely fit for public view since her shirt was so thin, and she fought a blush rising in her cheeks as she pulled the throw more tightly around her form. She cast him a forlorn glance and sighed, “Well, all right. I guess I’ll just sit over here…by myself…” a flicker of answering mischief then crossed her face, and she looked sidelong at him through dampened eyelashes, “suffering.”

 

Amendale smugly shrugged and sat beside Zorica on a bench, obnoxiously resting his hands on the back of his head and waited. "You brought this on yourself, you know." He jabbed glibly.

 

She smirked, her lips thinning, “Yes, I know. Must be the drow in me. Couldn’t pass up such a prime occasion to bring down the elf.”

 

"Oh sure, ‘bring down the elf’ she says....to the elf." He rolled his eyes.

 

Zorica half-smiled as she sat curled on the floor beside the bench, looking up at him, “Well, better than keeping it from you, eh?” She winked slyly.

 

“I…” She hesitated as she started to speak again, and then she sneezed violently once…twice…thrice.

 

Amendale sighed melodramatically and made a big show of stretching languidly and sitting forwards, and then he poked her lightly in the ribs; in a few seconds she was just as dry as he was. She blinked, looking down at her shirt that was no longer see-through. She tossed the throw aside with a smile, fluffing her now-dry hair so that it fell over half her face in a carefree manner. She, too, stretched, bringing her arms over her head and feeling all her joints loosen…no longer locked with cold. Her mouth split into a wide grin, her teeth startlingly white against her dark skin, and she climbed up beside him on the bench.

 

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zorica remarked, her voice sickeningly sweet with sarcasm, “I think that deserves a sound thank you.”

 

"What'd you have in mind?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, suddenly quite aware of her proximity to him.

 

“Ohhh, I don’t know,” she replied casually. Though her outward demeanor was cool and collected, her mind was whirling with rapid-fire thoughts, mostly consisting of how close they were to each other. It was the truth; she had no idea what she had intended by that statement. Obviously it wasn’t anything rational, because she would have been able to articulate it by now.

 

“I just…” she began, and then trailed off as she met his eyes again. They were so beautifully golden, with bits of brown and green thrown in…colors she had never noticed before and would have remained entirely unnoticeable had she not been this near. She suddenly found it difficult to swallow, and her mouth felt incredibly dry as she tried to rip her gaze away from him, but to no avail.

 

Amendale's eyes involuntarily darted to those full, puffy lips of hers, sparking a spontaneous stray thought wondering what they'd feel like pressed against his. He shoved the thought from his mind only to suddenly find himself almost enraptured by the amber hue of her eyes, and how she looked with those blue-black locks ruffled and hanging over her face. Gods, it was like all those terrible romance novels the two of them so guiltily enjoyed.

 

Her hand, almost unbidden, reached towards his face, “You ah…” she tucked a roguishly stray strand of hair behind his ear, as if trying to correct his appearance, “got a little…” she found herself unable to finish as she let her fingers brush his jawline. Her brain screamed at her, completely disapproving of her actions, and she thought herself an impertinent fool. Amendale’s heart skipped a beat when her fingers ghosted over his face, and it was all he could do to stop his breath from hitching.

 

Completely abandoning all reservations, Zorica pulled him towards her, and, hesitating only briefly, she then pressed her lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. Amendale's sense decided to evacuate his mind as he cupped her face in his palms and returned the kiss tenderly, starting off almost timidly but quickly warming up to the idea and pouring himself into it. He was ever-so-gentle with Zorica, not being even remotely forceful with her.

 

She let her eyes close, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and pulling him tighter. His sweetness in his response was like that in all he said and did; it was something she had not been used to in her life, and it was also something that she was reluctant to let go of now that she literally held it in her hands. She briefly wondered if he was at all real, if she was dreaming this whole thing…that she would never be lucky enough to find herself in this situation, and she would wake up at any moment to her bedroll in the desert somewhere…

 

Amendale lost himself in Zorica's arms and the warmth of her skin against his. So enraptured were the two of them that they didn't hear the door open at the end of the hall, nor did they see Weyland walk in with a towel under his arm. The warrior made it only a few paces in the room before he saw them....and then, without missing a beat, turned right around on his foot and walked back out, making not a sound. Amendale didn't even notice. Neither did Zorica.

 

Even as she savored the feel of his tender lips on hers and his silken hair twined in her fingers, something ultimately gave her a change of heart. Overwhelmed with a sense of guilt that she had taken advantage of the situation and done something not unlike what her drow ancestors – perhaps even her unknown father – would do, she abruptly pulled away.

 

“I’m…sorry,” she whispered in a panicked tone, her amber eyes wide, “I shouldn’t have-”

 

Her voice halted, unable to explain. Her heart pounded with fear, now, physically stopping her words in her throat, and she bolted, leaping from her seat like a silvery deer. Sir Meowsalot gave a surprised “MEW!” as she grabbed up her pack and boots and wordlessly rushed for the door, trying to pretend that the kiss had never happened and feeling unclean for having done such a thing…for having let her physical attraction to Amendale override her common sense.

 

As she strode barefoot out into the hallway and farther into the open walkways and courtyard, she hissed to herself in berating words only the humming insects and night birds could hear, her eyes hot with tears.

 

“Romance novels are fantasies, Zorica. Not reality. Life isn’t like that.”

 

Amendale found himself grinning hugely even after Zorica broke off the kiss, but the frightened look in her eyes quickly wiped the smile off of his face. Alarmed, he quickly stood up and looked around, wondering if they were in some kind of danger, but when she spoke she allayed his fears only to replace them with empathetic concern. Puzzled, he grabbed his shirt and quickly put it on (backwards, though he didn't notice) and followed her outside, the long white sleeves feeling odd against his skin now. He just barely caught sight of the door to the courtyard closing and he skittered over to it on bare feet and pushed it open.

 

"Zorica, what's the matter?" He asked, the concerned edge in his voice making his confusion plain.

 

She froze in her tracks, closing her eyes. She was afraid he would do this. Fighting back her tears, she did not turn around as she said quietly, “I…should not have done that. It was wrong of me. Please, forgive me.”

 

He cocked his head. "What was so wrong about it? Felt right to me." He took a few steps closer to her until he was barely half a pace away from her.

 

The half-drow’s heart skipped a beat, but she would not allow herself to move. She merely bit her cheek and replied, “Really? Or do you just want it to be…like in those stupid books? That…” her voice wavered, “That isn’t how it happens in real life. All those stories are just…stories.”

 

"Even the most far-fetched story has its basis in reality." He countered. "It doesn't just have to be something that happens in the fables and tales. Why would it?" He cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder, carefully respecting anything she would be uncomfortable with. "I wouldn't have kissed back if I didn't mean it, you know."

 

She flinched when he touched her, but she didn’t pull away. She took in her breath sharply and held it a moment before asking, “And what did it mean to you?”

 

He swallowed, gathering his words, but it didn't take him long to muster the courage to speak. "It meant that you feel the same way about me that I do for you. And that I could express it."

 

Zorica laughed so she wouldn’t start crying, but she did anyway. They were quiet tears, sliding down her cheeks in shimmering streams. She tentatively reached up with one hand and touched his fingers on her shoulder, the other hand still holding her boots and pack with the dozing Sir Meowsalot.

 

Not entirely sure what to do, Amendale stood there awkwardly for a second until her shoulders shuddered and he nearly panicked. He coaxed her into turning around. "No need for tears," he whispered, brushing away the liquid flowing from her eyes.

 

"Stop me if you're not comfortable," and then he tilted her chin up and pressed his lips to hers again even as he moved his hand from her chin to stroke her cheek.

 

She was momentarily stunned by this act. She dropped the pack – Sir Meowsalot giving a muffled “MEW!” – and then let herself succumb to his kiss. It was too good to be true, but now she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms about him and returned the kiss passionately, twisting her hands in his hair again.

 

After a few breathless moments, she broke away and gave him a tiny smile, her eyes glittering as she glanced to his chest, “Your shirt’s on backwards.”

 

Amendale raised his eyebrows, surprised at the innocent statement put into a tone of voice that made him dizzy. Then he looked down and noted that she was correct. "...That it is. No matter." Slipping his arms around her in a complete embrace, he pulled her to him and rested his chin on her shoulder, squeezing lightly and holding her tight.

 

"....Careful my ear doesn't poke you." He joked as he felt a lock of hair brush against the tip of it.

 

She grinned as she held him just as fiercely and replied, “I don’t give a damn if it does.”

 

And for the longest time, they merely stood together embraced each other tightly, Zorica wishing that it would last for eternity.

[josh900]

Tannin chuckled as he walked to the tub. "Even if I ask nicely? A nice bath with a glass of wine would make me feel quite at home." He said as he took the robe off and stepped down into the pool with a sigh. "Yeah I've missed these." He said with a large grin as he settled into it. "I'd spend hours at the ones back in Waterdeep. I have to say though, the view wasn't always this good in them." He chuckled as he looked over at the two half-elf women.

[Deleted6317247User]

"So why didn't you bring any yourself?" Shalena asked with a chuckle as she looked around for any glasses seeing how Llhunara's wasn't empty yet and she wasn't sure how she felt about mixing the drinks, but sadly she didn't see any and was far too comfortable in the warm water to call the servants.

 

The piratess grinned as the half-elf offered her the drink, "I could never say no to free wine," she chuckled, taking the glass for the rogue and taking a sip of the wine, "mmm, very good wine. Though something's missing." She said as poured wine from the bottle, refilling the glass, "much better." She smiled before handing the bottle to Tannin. "Sorry, don't see any glasses." She said to the half-drow before adding, "well of course the view is much better here."

 

Nawen finished sharpening her blade and placed it by the nightstand before getting out of the bed and heading to the balcony. She missed having Rhegar by her side, but she was uncertain if it was alright with Menarses to let him in, she left the wolf in the stables with their horses. She'll have to ask about it tomorrow.

 

She stood in the balcony enjoying the beautiful view for a while before heading back to bed. There will most likely be plenty of time tomorrow to look around the estate.