- The Archivist, your narrator

"...[i]n this City there is nothing but steam, dust, smoke and soot. The cobblestones on the streets are shattered and my bed grows cold. When I awake alone and day has not yet broken, I long for another's warmth. But this is the destiny I have made for myself, even if I miss the gardens and mountain vistas of a home which now fades into memory..."

- Extract from Aerylle's Diary in Sigil

For the fifth consecutive day Aerylle had waited in the tavern by the Great Canal for something to happen. This evening, the comings and goings of patrons, both new and regular, had been particularly fierce. The firelight blurred their disparate faces, some masked, some clearly demonic or at least inhuman. A great hearth sat in the middle of the tavern's common room, projecting gouts of clear, fragrant smoke into the air.

The flames had been controlled magically to emit warmth and sweet air but consume neither flesh nor wood. Serving maids - and there were some for all tastes - plied the tables with assured expertise, though Aerylle had given up even trying to catch a gaze or two; not her type. Then again what exactly her type was would always have been open to question. If she was to be totally honest with herself, she had no idea. Hence the black chasm of loneliness every time she ascended the stairs back to her lonely, meticulously neat chamber at the far end of Sigil's Clerk's Ward.

Silence and loneliness at home meant being a librarian for all of her waking day and the situation had begun to frustrate Aerylle. Not that there was anything especially lacking in her work. In the first place, it allowed her an acceptable salary and, perhaps most importantly, access to boundless knowledge. But this was not abstract theorising, but the documentation of centuries of experiences by members of the Society of Sensation whose foremost aim in life - by philosophy and by conviction - was to experience the Multiverse, to live it. Living vicarious, however, had its downsides as Aerylle reflected that for all her love of reading of scaling snow-capped Olympus or diving into the infinite depths of Oceanus, her day to day existence dragged on like a grey blur. Her mind's eye had taken far more gratification than their physical counterparts.

Thus, the tavern which Lirai, her colleague and fellow Assistant Librarian in the Archives Section, had recommended as a means of finding kindred spirits. The tavern was animated, all right, with voices buzzing in a multitude of different languages, all echoing cacophonously on the establishment's smooth-polished wooden walls.

This, Aerylle decided, was the last evening: the tavern had been a complete money sink from the beginning - five Sigil Marks for a glass of sweet white wine was extortionate regardless of the quality, she had decided - and it was mind-numbingly noisy. So, Aerylle was beginning to dawn on the fact that perhaps she had been born to be a librarian. It certainly helped that she was a grey elf and had been raised in a culture in which the written word, all rendered in the exquisite calligraphy of her race, was held in the highest esteem. But then, overcome with adolescent wanderlust, she sought knowledge beyond the confines of the mountain city of Imej, abandoning the golden spires which clung to the snow capped domes of the Dawnseeker Mountains in search for something more ineffable, more enigmatic.

She had it now, but now distant from her people she felt out of place, unwell in her skin: the populace of Sigil was, to put it mildly, crude, their language vulgar, their habits unsubtle. Aerylle often thought that she would have been better advised if she had listened to her mother and sisters and remained safely in the welcoming nest of the people she understood. Not that she was xenophobic, that would have lead to madness in Sigil, but rather discerning.

Which led her back to the great quandary of acquiring companionship. Lesser races purchased it when it was lacking, but Aerylle was of the opinion that delayed gratification was better than substandard of impure gratification. This thought led back logically in her scrupulous mind to the single unmitigated disaster of her stay in Sigil so far.

In the hope of finding someone who shared her general approach to romance and bonded life, Aerylle had struck up conversation with a truly delectable blonde paladin of the Order of the Radiant Path who had been patronising the library as part of her last semester of study before acceding to the knighthood.

Virginia - for that was the paladin's name - had given Aerylle a rare glimpse of a sense of duty, commitment and general devotion she had found so rare in Sigil. She had flirted, admittedly only with the coy reserve which was becoming of lady, playfully with Virginia in the dimly lit corridors between the piles of musty of books. The light laughter and aimless banter they shared had come as a welcome relief to the daily routine of stacking, cataloguing and archiving and it had been much to Aerylle's delight when Virginia offered to take her out on her weekly day of leave. Of course, it had only been proper for Virginia to make the first move.

A lady never conceded over-eagerness and it was, indeed, most appropriate for a lady to be courted by such a noble, beautiful paladin. Everything had fallen into place, Aerylle reflected ruefully, the situation appeared to have been perfect. Each week that passed she learned to know Virginia better, each time their courtship deepened and Aerylle had felt profoundly flattered. Each time that Virginia had swept forward to plant the softest kiss on her slender hand, Aerylle had felt her blood quicken and her knees grow unsteady. Thankfully, she had managed to preserve her outward dignity and give no ostentatious indication of her mounting desire.

By their seventh outing, Aerylle had felt that Virginia's courtship ought to be rewarded with its natural conclusion. That evening had been the defining moment of her slow burning passion and Aerylle remembered it as if it had been just yesterday. The sequence of events had, regrettably, been seared into her mind. She had returned early from the library that fateful evening to ensure an adequate preparation for the evening. Aerylle remembered admiring herself in the mirror, hoping fervently that Virginia would find her beautiful.

Her form was pleasing, Aerylle remembered herself thinking, for she had all the delicate, almost fragile grace so typical of grey elves; her skin unblemished, petite conical breasts riding high on her chest capped with pink rosebud nipples. In the fashion of her native city, she had arranged her waist-length hair, golden like clear honey, in two, slender braids amidst free falling tresses, both tied with translucent sky-blue fabric selected to echo the colour of her deep, expressive eyes.

What was there for Virginia not to like, Aerylle remembered thinking to herself as she applied the faintest trace of turquoise powder on her eyelids, admiring the manner in which it exalted the proportions of her elegant, noble features. There had been no trace of undue angularity to her, certainly - heavens forbid - no body hair, and her limbs were slender and supple, but soft as was only proper for a lady of taste, so why had Virginia not seized upon the proffered gift? Even as they had returned home, to cap the humiliation of the evening, Aerylle had taken the risk of being more forward and suggested that Virginia have a look at her "humble abode". It was then that the dreaded conversation had begun:

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

"Aerylle...I...I don't know." Virginia had stammered awkwardly, the elven librarian was no doubt very pretty, especially in the gauzy rose dress that seemed to be a second skin against her graceful limbs every time she moved, but there was something so strangely odd about her manner. Virginia had no intention of falling out of her depth, committing some obscure faux-pas which would earn the elf maiden's irreversible contempt. Every action of her's had felt judged, not in a malevolent so much as in a constant way, by Aerylle since they had met. To make love to her - or try to - would be to invite almost certain disaster. Provided she wanted to make love, of course, which, given the opacity of the elf's body language could by no means be taken for granted.

"Are you certain, milady Virginia?" Aerylle insisted, subtly shifting a few tresses of hair, golden like a sheaf of ripe wheat, from one of her delicately pointed ears which she normally kept covered for modesty.

- There she goes again - Virginia thought to herself, - I'm not exactly the Abbess and it's "milady this", "milady that". Goddess knows how many times I came across as a crude barbarian. -

"Aerylle...I mean I really like, y..., the pleasure of your company and we should definitely keep seeing each other...but as friends, you know, as opposed to, uhm..." Virginia struggled for the right word - or euphemism - and not finding an appropriate one allowed silence to fall so that Aerylle could, hopefully, fill it and lift the air of straining awkwardness that surrounded them.

"I understand," Aerylle sighed, "please come to the library at your leisure, I shall always have time for you." She extended her hand for Virginia to kiss in farewell, which the paladin did gratefully, relieved that there had been no further space for humiliation.

Aerylle did not even check if Virginia had waited for her to be well within her building before leaving; she had been building anticipation throughout the night and had even become uncomfortably and embarrassingly damp between her thighs when Virginia had held her waist as they both looked out to see Sigil sprawled before them from the Observation Chamber of the Hall of Speakers. Now all Aerylle felt was hot, dry, itching irritation. This sensation had characterised her mood for well over a month.

***********

Hence the Waterside Inn Tavern, presented as a panacea to all of Aerylle's worries and verging on another embarrassing, and expensive, exercise in failure. A rather brash, and tastelessly attired, serving maid interrupted Aerylle's reverie. The woman's voice was irritating, her lack of modesty and dress sense even more so, "Something else, madam?"

Aerylle reflected that the easy answer would have been a dry "no", followed by her tab and a long, comforting read in bed, under a thick blanket at home. But the wine was acceptable, its flowery perfumes and fresh-cut-grass aroma reminding her of the mountain meadow courtyards of her youth. Pointless nights were like the principle of infinity, no matter what you added or took away, it remained a pointless night, so Aerylle decided to become living evidence that hope springs eternal and flashed the serving maid her most flawless forced smile, "Another glass, if you please. Large."

Hopefully so large I can drown in it, Aerylle thought, as the irritating wench turned back to the bar to fill the order. It was in that instant, as Aerylle's eyes were briefly diverted to the great, multi-tiered bar, glimmering with all manner of cut crystal bottles rendered in some truly weird, grotesque shapes, that she spied the first instance of even vaguely entertaining action she had seen in the last few nights. A heavily armoured, broadly humanoid infernal with viscid green skin and heavy, blackened iron platemail had importuned a young woman whose smooth skin was like marble tinted with agate, a subtle tint of scarlet infused whiteness.

That was striking enough in itself, but the ease with which the strange woman casually waved the fiend's hand away, with a sharp, if understanding, "Sorry, not your night, berk.", was doubly impressive. It took all kinds, Aerylle surmised, to survive in Sigil, but then again, Sigil's cant irritated her. That one, self-confident as she may have been, was definitely not to the grey elf's taste.

"You're a curious one."

Aerylle almost jumped out of her seat, the strange woman had, undetected, sidled up to her table, melding effortlessly and speedily into the shadows so that it appeared that she had crossed the room in one bound.

"I'm sorry?" Aerylle said, nervously, turning slightly to face her interrogator. There was, she decided, something quite otherworldly about this woman: her dark red hair had no trace of brown in it, but was as pure and deep as a live ember from a dying hearth as it hung like a silky curtain over the stranger's visage of which Aerylle could only vaguely detect the delicately slanted, enigmatic eyes, cheekbones so high and perfect that they looked as though they had been carved, and beautifully formed lips which were so organically red one could be certain that no cosmetic had been used. Though her frame was wiry, leanly muscled and elegant like that of a hunting cat, with fine, firm breasts and athletically rounded hips, Aerylle could only object to the strange woman's dress sense; the functional two piece outfit of a short, skintight grey blouse and an equally figure-hugging pair of low riding brown canvas britches which were met at the knee with weathered leather boots.

-Not my type - Aerylle thought as she drained the remnants of her glass, hoping that the returning serving maid would at any time interrupt this uncomfortable meeting.

"You're a curious one. In every sense of the word."

"Really...I don't think..." Aerylle began.

"I thought you'd be clever enough to know that your bone-box ought not be opened 'till you have something meaningful to say." The strange woman finished.

Aerylle was beginning to become uncomfortable, overt violence in public spaces in Sigil was rare, despite the frequent instances of culture clash, nevertheless, she had no intention of becoming the exception that proved the rule.

"Can...can I help you?" Was all the beleaguered librarian could come up with to stall.

"Depends, my contact didn't show up, so I thought some good socialising or suchlike could be on the cards. Mistaken, wasn't I? What are you, on a date...skiving off someone, you're dressed pretty fine, if I'm not fooling myself."

"I...I'll take that as a compliment and no, I am not busy with any particular social event." Aerylle decided to humour the stranger but be on her guard, putting up with eccentrics, she supposed, was all part of the experience of living. The comment on her dress pleased her, though, she had put a lot of effort in selecting a nice, simple dark blue gown that highlighted her pale complexion whilst also being airy to the point of being flimsy around her arms and legs to emphasise the grace of her movements.

"Right, I'm Min, then." The woman said, smiling enigmatically even as she allowed her hair to cast shadows on her face which, in the penumbra of the tavern, kept her shrouded in an aura of uncertainty.

"A pleasure, Aerylle," the grey elf began, instinctively extending her hand before catching herself and hastily withdrawing it to her side, "do you, uh...drink anything?"

"Only to survive," Min replied, her voice was soft, surprisingly melodious and practised too, as if she did not wish to reveal too much at any given time, "since my friend here's buying, we'll take a bottle of Baatorian firewater - double Red Band." Much to Aerylle's intense irritation the serving maid had appeared in exactly that moment, too late to break up the conversation and just in time for Min to order some no doubt undrinkable spirit.

"A wine drinker, I see, we'll change that right quick," Min said devilishly as she took a seat at the table beside Aerylle, "so what're your 'ulterior motives'? Just wasting the time?"

"Cultural tourism." Aerylle answered curtly before taking a long, deep sip from her wine. Its fresh, airy sweetness filled her palate and helped cloud the constant irritation in her mind.

"Hmmm...so here you have it: a tiefling born and bred in Sigil. Don't ask me what my father was 'cause I'll be the last to know and should I know, the first to make sure he's forgotten. So a tourist from where?" Min had made herself comfortable by stretching her legs on the table as she lay back against the chair. Aerylle could not help but admire the taut, perfectly flat midriff the tiefling had exposed, or the long, supple thighs, held only by the slightest layer of fabric.

- No.- Aerylle thought, - Absolutely not my type. -

"A Prime world, nothing too spectacular, but, mind you, I do miss the sight of our two suns cresting behind the peaks at the very break of dawn. Sometimes you lose the days here and you certainly lose track of the seasons." Aerylle said ruefully, she once been so attuned to the natural rhythm of her world that she knew the day in which each flower would blossom, each fruit would ripen and each egg would hatch. Now she was left adrift in the constant indeterminacy of Sigil's weather, tormented by the constant, dirty drizzle which snaked down in wending sheets of lukewarm water from the sunless sky.

"I see..." Min had certainly not sat down to talk about climate, "so how d'you make yourself useful, or otherwise, to society?"

"Books." Aerylle replied, the woman voice was engrossing but her Sigil intonation was grating. Thankfully, and Aerylle never thought she would have genuinely though that herself, the firewater had arrived. Min immediately poured two generous glasses of the clear, evil smelling liquid in fluid, effortless motions.

"I," Min began before draining the glass in a single shot, "as you may have guessed, specialise in dealing with dangerous items. A metaf...er, magical sanitation worker if you will."

"Metaphysical." Aerylle corrected before giving the firewater a sniff. The bouquet reminded her of molten metal and burning sulphur. In the instant it made contact with her lips and tongue, the librarian realised that the substance was more of a poison than a spirit, but curiosity drover her to take a sip, if only for appearance's sake. Her throat was numbed, her belly burned and she could barely restrain the tears from welling up in her eyes.

"You'll get used to it as we hack at the bottle, don't worry." Min smiled again, this time more transparently, and, for the first time, Aerylle could see into those elegantly slanted eyes to the smouldering, crimson irises within. It was as if the fire of the tiefling's soul were spilling out her.

"It's...interesting." Aerylle managed, her throat still reeling. The after effect of the alcohol's attack was smooth, however and not entirely unpleasant.

"It's life." Min replied, pouring herself another glass. Aerylle noted the ruby redness of the tiefling's fingernails. They were certainly not painted.

"So, you work in retrievals, do you happen to know Shesayne?" Aerylle asked, remembering that Virginia's best friend had a lover who was an operative in that field.

"Yeah. Same team. Coincidences make life interesting, don't they?" Min drained her second glass. A distinct advantage in having some fiendish ancestry was the ability to metabolise alcohol with ease. It made socialising all the more entertaining.

Feeling slightly more disinhibited, Aerylle decided to try her luck at pressing the conversation forwards, "So what do you think of Shesayne's choice of lover?"

"Fucking amazing ass. If Shesayne hadn't gotten there first, she'd be biting a pillow with me on top of her right now." Min commented wistfully.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, yeah, must have had a few," Min calculated it was best not to press the elf maiden's patience, not excessively at least, "but c'mon, cultural tourism, you can at least try to put up with, uh...common speech."

"Vernacular?" Aerylle snapped, "So no, I'm not offended, just a little...taken aback." She lied.

"It's nice to converse with an educated woman from time to time, you know." Min said, her tone warmer now. This was turning out to be an interesting encounter indeed. Aerylle, on the other hand, had progressively drained her glass and, before she could reach for the bottle, had another one promptly poured by Min's deft hands. By the second glass, their conversation had found the mutually agreeable topic of typologies of enchanted items. Aerylle was eager to furnish specialised, historical knowledge where Min was lacking, though the tiefling had far superior experience in interacting with items the librarian had only read of at a scholarly level.

There was, despite her vulgarity, something genuinely interesting in Min's mannerism, in her speech - so unforced - and in her movement - positively flawless, as if everything around her posed no resistance. Then there was the alcohol, but, of course, that was mitigated by the indefatigable good judgement of Aerylle's mind which told her unequivocally that Min was not, in any way shape or form her type.

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

Hence, well, there was no hence because, at this juncture, there was no logical progression which Aerylle could come up with to fully explain the situation. Situation was decidedly an understatement, as she found herself hungrily devouring Min's smouldering, sensual lips, her tongue more bedevilled by desire than it had ever been exploring the tiefling's mouth with a bold initiative which shocked her even in her inebriated state.

Min had the slender grey elf pressed against the wall of the upper floor of the tavern between two bedchamber doors, one hand under Aerylle's blue dress running passionately between the girl's slim thigh and her inflamingly pert bottom, the other clasping a breast the tiefling had liberated from its gauzy prison. The pink nipple, fresh, taut and ripe as berry stood high and proud between Min's insistent, stroking fingers.

"You're magnificent." Min gasped, breaking the kiss to run her tongue sensually down Aerylle's ear before latching on the lobe at its base and sucking gently, the tiefling's hand simultaneously spreading her lover's thigh, feeling the damp, fragrant warmth within.

Aerylle was too far gone with both drink and passion to care much for what Min was saying, all she could feel was the open wetness of her sex, now exposed to the cool air of the deserted corridor, being probed by the tiefling's artful fingers. Those scarlet fingernails, so cruelly beautiful now scraped with teasing, maddening rhythm, parting her inner flesh and coating Min's hand with the copious fluid of Aerylle's desire.

Aerylle had never felt this disinhibited, this free. She could only feel the dull memory of her previous self in the deep recesses of her mind, but in that moment, she wanted to melt into Min. She thrust herself back wantonly onto Min's probing digits, the elf maiden's own hands now moving to clasp, and finally feel the taut, straining muscles of the tiefling's belly and bottom. The sensation was like electricity: just to touch Min's skin was like stroking something so alive it was burning, to feel the supple muscles ripple beneath that crimson tinted skin was paradise.

Min had begun kissing lower, leaving a long wet trail with her tongue down Aerylle's neck and between her breasts, before engulfing a single, tumescent nipple and much of the breast under it in that heavenly, furnace like mouth. The tiefling's teeth, sharper than Aerylle had expected bit into the tender flesh of her painfully engorged nipple, eliciting a short, sharp cry of pain from the grey elf. The sensation was, however, unbelievable, Aerylle was certain she could feel her own heartbeat finding its rhythm with Min's hot breath now on her navel, the curious, restless tongue lapping lower.

Repositioning herself on her knees, Min effortlessly parted Aerylle's thighs, revealing the delicious, graceful pink flower of her sex and that flowery, elven fragrance which had utterly intoxicated the tiefling's libido, spurring it onwards.

"You're soaked," Min said lasciviously as she moved forward to plant a kiss on the tiny engorged bud at the apex of Aerylle's sex that had just begun to bloom before her eyes, "I best dry you off before you catch something." The shuddering, jarring sensation of her clitoris being kissed briefly jerked Aerylle back to reality.

"Say, Min what are you...ahh, doing down there?" The question was ridiculous, as Aerylle had a perfect enough view of the rich curtain of fire-red hair now draped over her pale thighs to realise exactly what Min's intentions were. But it was enough to briefly break the heat of the moment.

"Diving for fucking oysters, what do you think?" Min snapped back, slightly irritated. She was not over-fond of those who liked to play innocent. Especially not when she had drunk the best part of a bottle of Baatorian firewater.

"Isn't this a little...soon?" Aerylle inquired, her voice sounded to her distorted by the dull throbbing in her head. Her movements and Min's movements all blurred into one white-red impressionistic spray of colour.

"For fu...look, Aerylle it's what girls do together...I thought you elves were supposed to be good hands at this." Min was audibly frustrated, this wasn't the time to be having second thoughts. Every one of the tiefling's movements now caused her inflamed, moist sex to scrape maddeningly against her britches. The sooner she was out of them, preferably with Aerylle diligently at work between her legs, the better.

"Yes, we are...but everything has its time." Aerylle replied, uncertain of her words and unsteady on her legs.

Min paused and looked up into Aerylle's eyes quizzically. Was this some sort of game? Some bizarre elven variant of foreplay she had yet to discover?

"But don't worry, my dear," the grey elf continued, another surge of alcohol making her mind lose itself in another dizzying blur of shimmering lights reflected on dazzling, red hair, "you can do anything you want with me. Tomorrow, I'll forget and no harm done, no bad dreams, no awkward stories to tell...all will be right with the world..." Aerylle's voice drifted off, into a long, contented sigh.

Min paused and then rose to her feet. This wasn't going to be her night. Sleeping with a girl who was a little tipsy was great, but Aerylle quite clearly needed to get her bearings first. Culture shock, Min mused, could be a real bitch, "I can't do this now." She said, her voice almost pained as the words came out, her fantasies reluctantly being pushed back into the corners of her mind.

"What...Min, no. I want to, I really want to. Let's start again." Aerylle pleaded desperately as she lunged forward to kiss the tiefling. Min allowed their lips to meet, but her kiss was more reassuring than fiery.

"Another time, I promise." She would be kicking herself in the morning, Min thought, but at least it would marginally preferable than waking up with a traumatised girl in her bed.

"I ruined it, didn't I?" Aerylle whimpered, a knot forming in her throat as she tried to hold back her tears. It was as if all her desire had suddenly been sublimated into regret and self-pity.

"No, no...here." Min said as she took Aerylle into her arms, holding her close. The tiefling felt the tears against her skin, by comparison they were cool, "I'll get us a room. You can't go home like this."

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

Min did not sleep well that night. Though the room was well appointed - not that Min was a stickler for such matters, but at least it was cosy -, clean and quiet. Aerylle was not. After crying herself to sleep on Min's breast, she woke up twice to relieve the excesses of the evening, on each occasion waking the tiefling with her clumsy, drunken stirrings in the dark and, on each occasion, solicitously asking whether she had, indeed, woken Min up.

You have now, would have been Min's usual rejoinder, but she decided to be uncharacteristically charitable and feign sleep. By morning, all Min wanted was to go home, change, turn up for work and hope there would be no operations involving her so that she could simply sleep in the employee's common room. For a day or two.

The tiefling knew it was time to go by the distant ringing of the Bell Tower. Rising gently, careful not to stir Aerylle, Min pulled on her leggings and boots, cursing the little slivers of light which had infiltrated themselves between the white fabric of the curtains. This was going to be an agonising day.

"Where are you going?" Aerylle asked groggily, and Min turned around to the unwelcome sight of the grey elf, half awake, her already wide and expectant.

"Duty calls."

"Can't you stay just a little more? I'll buy you breakfast." Aerylle entreated, her voice already sullen from the perceived rejection.

"Sorry I started, last night was a bad idea. But right now, I want to prevent things from all going to fuck more than they already are."

Aerylle winced, her head hurt, her body ached, but her mind was sober, "Please, Min. Just a couple of hours, then we'll be up. I'm sorry that this city has turned me into a wreck, but right now my head hurts and I just need someone to hold me together."

Min could not frankly countenance another emotional upheaval like the one from the previous night. Plus, Aerylle was at least being more transparent and tractable than ever before. Of course, that was not much, but it was a start.

"All right, c'mon shift then." The tiefling said, her tone softer now as she sat on the side of the bed next to Aerylle. Sighing at the stupid things she sometimes forced herself into doing, she pulled off her boots and leggings again, casting them carelessly against the bedside dresser before joining Aerylle under the sheets.

"Thank you." The grey elf mumbled, snuggling close to Min's breast, her honey hair caressing the tiefling's skin.

"Don't mention it." Min replied, staring at the ceiling as she drew Aerylle into a tight embrace. She wouldn't have been especially productive at work anyway. She was certain she could concoct something to justify her absence for the following day. In that moment, though, Aerylle's request for more sleep was something Min could doubtless sympathise with.

"Min..." Aerylle whispered, almost inaudibly.

"What?"

"My head aches, and my body is unsteady, but being with you...right here, makes me happy. Happier than I've ever felt since coming here." That was the confession Aerylle needed, even more than the extra sleep and maybe even more than the affection she had so longed for. To know that she could finally communicate, that the days of heavy silences, frustrated desires and voiceless words were finally coming to an end. That evening had also amended the record: Aerylle had finally rehabilitated Min: the tiefling was, without a shadow of doubt, her type.

Later, at breakfast, Aerylle could hardly eat and Min was not interested in eating. They shared a long silence with a pot of restorative tea, Min picking grimly at a dried fruit pastry, Aerylle staring into her teacup. She felt dirty and sweaty in her clothes despite the comparatively cool air the morning had brought.

The truth was neither could conjure something neutral to say, let alone something constructive. There was something about the previous mind which weighed heavily on their minds. For Aerylle it was the stark realisation that she had been forced out of her shell and for Min it was something perhaps more confusing still: the idea that chance and fate thrust situations which, when examined, were extreme, sudden and deeply unfair. Though Min felt something akin to affection for this troubled, fascinating grey elf, she had no way of expressing it as she would have liked, instead she merely felt obliged to comply with Aerylle's requests. Which meant that nothing good in the long term would come from this relationship.

"I would like to see you again." Aerylle said suddenly, still staring into her teacup. The tavern's dining room was virtually empty. It was that lull time between the breakfast and lunch shifts. Only the soft crackling from the kitchen's oven could be heard over the sound of Min toying with her plate.

"I have to go." The tiefling replied tersely, "Maybe we'll meet another time. Take care." She pronounced her farewell with some regret, but Min's legs were already carrying her out the door before her mind had time to mull things over. Growing up in the Hive Ward ensured that she was a firm believer in the school of instinct: its record was flawless, Min was, after all, still alive.

Aerylle meditated the depths of the teacup until the next sounding of the Bell Tower.

She had to make sure there was no possible way she would run into Min on her way home; Lirai would no doubt cover for her for a couple of hours whilst she gathered herself. She rose, paid the bill and went home to weep soundlessly in a bath of lukewarm water. If only she could feel the cold wind against her skin again, if only she could count the hair's breadth by which the vines had grown, then all of this disappointment could be lost in the understanding that she was not alone, but surrounded by an enormous, organic whole. Now, alienated in an alien city, she just felt like a fleck scattered to the void.

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

"What happened this time?" Lirai inquired, returning to the Sensorium catalogue after taking a single glance at Aerylle, "She misunderstood your intentions again, didn't she?"

"Something like that," Aerylle replied between gritted teeth, the lump in her throat was returning with a vengeance; she realised she probably should have spent more time in the bath, "did anything important come our way?"

"No." Lirai said and after completing her latest entry into the catalogue turned back to give Aerylle a good look, "I'm sorry," she began, softening slightly, though not prone to wearing her emotions on a sleeve, Lirai liked Aerylle enough to empathise with her, "some tea?"

"Please." Aerylle replied, taking her seat at the desk next to Lirai's. The library shelves stretched for what looked like an infinite sea before them. Millennia of catalogued experiences, some unique and unrepeatable like the birth of a new world, the demise of a city, or the final taste of the fruit of a plant long destroyed in an age of ice. A vast and beautiful repository it was, but one of memories lived vicariously. Yes, with greater intensity than that of the ordinary book, but nevertheless pale imitations of the experience of truly living.

Lirai briefly took her leave to fill a mug with some tea kept warm by a minor enchantment which had been woven into a bronze pot. She was an air genasi with an enviably statuesque shape, even under the simple white tunic and brown boots she and Aerylle wore as assistant librarians. Shoulder length blue hair, like the sky on a particularly intense day, framed a quiet, reserved expression, her indigo eyes unfathomable depths to a soul which did not readily reveal itself. In terms of character, she was distant from most of the fickle, flighty specimens of her race, all defined by their common ancestry in the elemental beings of the Plane of Air.

Though the genesis of their bloodline was a mystery to many, the elemental influences lived on in the myriad of genasi who populated Sigil. Lirai's skin, pale tinged with a slight hint of azure, fluid movement and soft, dignified features were typical of the air genasi descended from sylphs, elemental spirits of the air. In Lirai, Aerylle saw a kindred spirit: one who also felt out of touch with constant crucible of worlds on the streets and longed for the quiet solitude of the library. To put it more bluntly, Lirai was Aerylle's only true, longstanding friend and the reverse was almost certainly true, though the air genasi had found herself a companion a few weeks earlier. To Aerylle's knowledge, the relationship was difficult but, apparently, rewarding.

"I suppose you just have to keep at it." Lirai said as she presented Aerylle with her tea. The soft vapour from the mug wafted into the grey elf's nostrils and, all of a sudden, she realised she was thirsty. The mint tea turned out to be an excellent restorative and after a couple of mugs, Aerylle began to feel ready to dedicate herself to some serious work and gradually push Min out of her mind. There would have been, of course, no point in dwelling on the situation.

All she could do was move - or drift - on. In her most optimistic thoughts, Aerylle considered trying with Virginia again. The paladin may have been obtuse, but she was dynamic, charming and very pretty. The romantic ideal, Aerylle had decided, was something best left in books, though as a librarian this point often bore reminding.

"There was another Anarchist riot today in the Hive," Lirai began as she annotated a cross-index of sensory reports from the Lower Planes, "Civic Security is struggling just to deal with the most severe cases, I heard that the Harmonium is recruiting new members. I think something rotten this way comes."

"As long as they leave us alone, they can take their political grievances where they will." Aerylle commented, trying to focus on hr cataloguing. Half the time she had spent at her post was dedicated, she felt, to rectifying the errors of her predecessors. How exactly one could come to categorise Fungus, Poisonous under the Bytopia, Sights and Sounds entry was beyond her.

"Until they start banging on the gates. Then we're both in for it. Anarchists or Indeps, either way its another worry."

"Well if they get in, remember our plan." Aerylle bit her lip at the idiocy of another mis-catalogue where opiate-induced experiences had been mis-referenced as out of body experiences. An understandable error, perhaps, but unprofessional nonetheless.

"Yes, but if we're caught storing vials of poison in our desks someone is bound to think we're paranoid."

"Better safe than sorry." Sigil had never failed to surprise Aerylle and she certainly had no intention of being caught unprepared in the worst of circumstances.

Work dragged on as if measured out with coffee spoons. Aerylle volunteered to some overtime in order to allow Lirai out; the poor girl had been forced to do the work for both of them for most of the morning anyway. As Sigil's sky shifted radically and unnaturally from grey to black, Aerylle rose to light a few flameless lamps, specially enchanted to ensure that there was no threat to the endless shelves, stacked high with precious memories.

"So where to, princess?"

Aerylle whipped around from the lamp in an instinctive, startled motion. Min stood there, smiling, leaning casually against a bookcase, her ember-red hair as always enigmatically draped around the sides of her face, wearing red leather leggings and a silvery top so shimmering it almost seemed transparent in the dim light of the twilit library. The grey elf did not know whether to scream, cry, or make love to Min right where she stood, against the bookshelf.

"C'mon, princess, on your toes...where to?" Min teased as Aerylle finally decided to simply take a short, dignified walk to the tiefling and bury her face gratefully between the woman's breasts. Aerylle smelt warm flesh, the faint aroma of burning incense and the sweet leather of Min's leggings. Most importantly, she could feel the tiefling's heartbeat.

"Please, do not call me that," Aerylle said, very softly, as if she were speaking to Min's heart, "you make light of me."

"Nah, you're too high-up for it to be ironic anyway." Min joked, holding Aerylle tight against her, her hands now stroking the elf maiden's blonde tresses.

"How did you find me?" Aerylle still could not believe it, being held in Min's arms was like being complete again, like reliving the brief glimpse of happiness she had seen earlier that morning.

"I've ways - and contacts. Put together, it's a pretty strong case, no? Wasn't too hard to find some cutter who knew you hung 'round this place."

"Thank you for coming." Aerylle said, feeling as though she could spend the rest of the evening in exactly that position, close enough to feel, hear, taste and smell Min.

"Did you ask me to?"

"No."

"Then don't thank me." Min said, kissing Aerylle affectionately on the forehead.

"No, Min...kiss me." Aerylle sighed tentatively, she did not wish to have another crisis of tempo on her hands.

Min was all to eager to comply, her burning, perfect deep crimson lips planted themselves on Aerylle's, her tongue, hot and eager to please given free rein to explore the grey elf's mouth. The kiss was vital, almost desperate, it was the life-breath they both needed, the confirmation that a bridge to temporary happiness could be built with the union of their bodies.

"We must get out of here and I must change," Aerylle declared, breathlessly breaking their kiss,

"I'm hardly presentable."

"No, you're fucking mesmerising." Min said fervently.

The more pedantic side of Aerylle would have commented at that point, but the rest of her passion-fevered mind decided against it.

"Come, will my bedchamber do?"

"There's nowhere else I would rather be right now." Min said as Aerylle took her by the hand and led her out into the library's Great Hall with its high-vaulted, elaborately carved marble ceilings and into the streets of the Clerk's Ward where the last signs of official activity were heralded by the tolling of the Bell Tower. Although they moved slowly and deliberately through the winding mazes of streets that stretched into the great curve of Sigil's wheel, Min had not felt so exhilarated in a long time. Despite herself, her heart beat faster than it had done during many a dangerous retrieval mission. Most importantly it beat not for herself, but for Aerylle.

By the time they arrived in Aerylle's small, yet comfortable and impeccably tidy apartment, Min's heart burnt, though she had not run.

"Please make yourself at home," Aerylle said, closing the door behind her, "have you eaten anything yet?"

"I think I will soon," Min said wryly, taking Aerylle into her arms, "but I want to do this properly...for you."

"Be at ease, then." Aerylle said as she sat on her bed, its heavy, plush sheets and soft mattress easily giving way to even to the grey elf's slight form. She wordlessly took off her ankle boots, and coyly turned her face slightly towards the tiny window at the head of the bed, "I would be honoured to give myself to you tonight, would you give yourself to me?" It was not so much a question as a formality, roughly translated from her native Elven, which was far more nuanced in speaking of love than any other language.

"Yes..." Min could only manage a single word, her throat felt parched.

"Then I am at your leisure." It was not in the least incongruous for Aerylle to use the traditional form of the Elven courtship ritual on the contrary it felt natural. In her society, there was no love nobler than that between two men or two women. It was aesthetic and not reproductive love, it was egalitarian and not possessive, fierce but never violent.

Min did not need a second invitation. She fell upon Aerylle with a searing kiss, scrambling to help the grey elf out of her tunic before casting it aside, the librarian's naked body finally once again revealed to her in a spectacle of gracious perfection. Min undressed herself with consummate ease, with no fumbling and no noise, just her breath against Aerylle's as their lips duelled passionately, breaking only for the tiefling to divest herself of her top.

Finally they were together, skin against skin, and Min was free to feel the exhilarating sensation of that smooth, perfect flesh against her own, the floral smell of Aerylle's perfume, the naturally sweet smell of the elf's hair and sex now wafting in the air. Breast to breast, hardened nipples brushing painfully over breasts already moist with sweat, Min kissed, riding the soft, delicate rolling motion of Aerylle's body as it bucked against her own.

"I did not know there could be such beauty in Sigil." Aerylle sighed as she contemplated Min's firm, youthful breasts, much larger than her own but still elegant and awash with the vitality of the first flushes of full womanhood, peaked with garnet-red nipples that looked almost purple, and the soft thatch of dark red curls beneath which the tiefling's treasure lay, waiting to be discovered. Min was not in a talking mood, her lips lunged to latch onto one of Aerylle's nipples, the motion of her mouth gentle and suckling at first, then sharp and insistent as the grey elf's hands continued to discover every curve, every muscle of her new lover.

Aerylle could only gasp at the new world of sensation opened by the tiefling's ministrations. Now Min moved lower, trailing her tongue down to course through the swollen lips of Aerylle's sopping sex. The taste was sublime, an intoxicating combination of the saline, the sweet and the floral. Never in her life had Min imagined the female sex to be so magnificent, so rich and bounteous. Trailing down lower, the tiefling planted small, wet kisses on the insides of Aerylle's thighs, trailing her tongue down to the maddening curve of the grey elf's calves and then turning inwards to tease and tickle the instep of the girl's foot with moist, provocative little licks.

Aerylle giggled softly as Min's expert mouth now wrapped itself around her big toe, suckling lightly, before sweeping back upwards, inexorably towards its moist, fertile target at the juncture of the grey elf's thighs. Almost moved by the bright pink beauty of Aerylle's sex, opened like a tropical flower in full bloom, Min dived forward to kiss it reverently, her tongue tracing the contours of the girl's inner lips, in slow, upward arcs which brought her ever closer to the stiffening bud of Aerylle's clitoris.

For her part, the grey elf breaths came ragged, her chest hammering, rising and falling seemingly in synchronism with each tender, tortuous lick of Min's mischievous tongue. Using one hand to spread the petals of Aerylle's sex open, Min began to apply a soft, lapping pressure on the pink engorged bud of the elven girl's clit, now glistening in the sweet dew of her arousal. The tiefling moved the fingers of her free hand, now moistened with the elf maiden's abundant nectar, to probe between the tight crevasse of her bottom and press teasingly against the tight, pink rosebud of her anus. Spurred on by Aerylle's increasingly desperate cries, Min increased her tempo, thrusting her tongue vigorously against the hot, stiffened bud beneath it, inhaling the flowery perfume of her lover's desire. The tiefling adored the silky softness of an elven pussy, but Aerylle was simply divine in her demure, elegant beauty.

Aerylle's peak struck her unexpectedly as Min allowed her teeth to graze ever so delicately against the swollen surface of the elf's bud, whilst gently but diligently working her thumb into the girl's tight, but expertly coaxed, nether passage. Grasping the sheets, Aerylle let out a high, melodious gasp, before collecting herself, and steadying her body into a more manageable rhythm to further encourage Min's attentions. Cupping Aerylle's sex in one hand, Min brought the elven girl to face her, planting a tender kiss on her lips, now delicately parted by the throes of sublime pleasure.

"Don't tell me," Min said with a mock sigh of disapproval as her middle finger encountered resistance as it worked itself into Aerylle's sex, "this is actually your first time?" The tiefling accentuated her question by running her tongue down Aerylle's ear, drawing a deep shudder and a short, sharp gasp from the grey elf.

"No, certainly not." Aerylle protested.

"But..."

"Normally," Aerylle started, hating herself for offering a lecture at such an inappropriate moment, "we do not 'breach the flower' when making love to friends. Only lovers have that privilege."

"I...see." Min did not quite know what to make of that, as far as she was concerned, the etiquette of the world Aerylle described as distant to her as the Seventh Heaven of Mount Celestia.

"No..." Aerylle recoiled for a moment and then relented, pressing forward against Min to kiss the tiefling's neck, savouring the salty, spicy tang of the woman's skin, "I want you to take it."

Min nodded, teasing the elf maiden's sensitive ear with her lips as she moved her index and middle fingers into position before the barrier of Aerylle's maidenhead, "This hurts and bleeds a little." Min warned, honoured and at the same time surprised to find herself in that position.

"I know," Aerylle gasped between kisses on Min's neck and collarbone, "it is right that you do it."

Spurred by the elf's words, Min thrust forward, in a firm but clean motion, feeling the tissue give way under her fingernails. Aerylle gasped and bit down, hard, on Min's shoulder. The tiefling felt a few teardrops fall on her skin before Aerylle's sharp breaths were replaced by a more regular, sedate rhythm.

Recovering from the initial shock of her deflowering, Aerylle decided to take the opportunity to show Min that an inviolate maidenhead did not necessarily involve any lack of experience. Easing the tiefling down into a comfortable position, Aerylle began her slow, methodical exploration of Min's body, her lips, tongue and fingers all proceeding with a feather-light touch, barely grazing the swollen, burgundy peaks of her lover's nipples, just tracing the subtle definition of muscles, the taut, athletic curves of breasts and bottom.

The crescendo was maddening, but Min contended herself with stroking the grey elf's fragrant hair, allowing the girl to weave her magic as if it were a slow, ritual dance, no motion inelegant or superfluous, but all part of a continuous organic whole whose logic was dictated not by the mind, but by the fiery passion of her soul.

With her sodden sex exposed to the cool evening air, her dark red inner petals now open at the mercy of Aerylle's teasing, maddening touch, Min felt vulnerable, but pleasantly so. A proud and independent woman, she felt only disgust at the weakness of exposing oneself unnecessarily but in that moment, she felt as if her surrender had been warranted and that by surrendering herself to Aerylle's pleasure, she had discovered a side of herself she had long thought lost.

The elven maiden, for her part, dipped lower, her lips skimming the tart, spicy folds of the tiefling's sex. Although not given to indecision or insecurity, Min found herself praying to whatever powers that be her elven lover, no doubt accustomed to a different taste, found the thought of pleasuring her appealing. The tiefling need not have worried as Aerylle moved in with sinuous grace, her tongue lapping up and down in long, sensuous licks, two delicate fingers stretching Min's passage open as that eager, infernal little tongue began to dance unpredictably across her aching clit, taut and glistening as it slipped its hood.

"Ah...I'm sorry I doubted you." Min groaned as Aerylle long, expert thrusts found her secret spot, deep inside her sex and began applying an irresistible, tickling pressure on it with the very tip of her fingernail, her tongue busy as always on the furrow of the tiefling girl's sex. The rhythmic crescendo of both tongue and fingers continued unabated as Min hooked her legs behind Aerylle's shoulders, allowing her lover better access to the burning surface of her sex. Aerylle was more than happy to concentrate on the feast before her; Min's sex was like a ripe fruit, so red, with its distinctive, spicy perfume, almost like cinnamon. From her vantage point, she could feel and hear all of Min's reactions to the slightest alteration in her movements.

The tiefling's breathing, Aerylle noted, depended on the intensity with which she applied her tongue to Min's clit, or the force with which her fingers brushed, almost innocently, against the bundle of hypersensitive tissue deep inside the sex they so freely explored. Min came to her peak with a desperate, strangled cry, every muscle in her body tensing, her toes curling against the bedding, now damp with sweat and nectar. She thrust herself in long, slow deliberate motions against Aerylle's eager tongue, drawing out the last, tense spasms of her climax before collapsing back onto the bed, her elven lover soon joining her in a tight, frantic embrace.

They made love twice more; first after Aerylle had washed off the last remnants of virginal blood, hard and fast against the bathing chamber's door; then after they had changed the sheets since Min insisted that it would not have been right to sleep in a bed in which they had not previously consummated their passion. This time they coupled face to face, Aerylle staring into the deep well of Min's eyes trying to find at least some context, some past upon which to build a future. The elf knew that, Fates willing, she would discover all she needed to know about Min in due time and contented herself, for the time being, with slow, deliberate thrusts, sex pressed against sex, to bring her closer to her tiefling lover.

Though neither had slept much the previous night, Aerylle had kept Min pleasantly awake with sweet nothings, lying tired but satisfied with her head on the tiefling's breast, the elf's left hand clasped firmly in her lover's right.

"I want us to work." Min said finally, her emotion getting the better of her pride.

"Me too." Aerylle whispered softly, "You're always welcome here. I'll have a key made for you."

"You trust me that much, huh?"

"I may not be the greatest judge of character, but I know you are a good person. I would not lo....I wouldn't be here otherwise." Aerylle sent a silent prayer of thanks to Hanali for having stopped herself before saying something truly stupid.

Min could only nod knowingly, "I owe you at least a couple of dinners since you picked up the tab this morning. How about I make it good to you tomorrow. Somewhere nice."

"Sure," Aerylle said, a satisfied smile on her face, "so maybe I can convince you to wear a skirt or a dress, or something...more ladylike."

"Don't count on it." Min said with a yawn. Aerylle waited until she was certain the tiefling was asleep before murmuring a quiet, almost inaudible "love you" in Elven and surrendering herself to a long overdue rest. Min, of course, heard and did not need to speak Elven to understand.

As Aerylle drifted off, the last words echoing in her mind were those of a new chorus that had sprouted in her subconscious. This was the chorus of the obvious which reminded her dreams to reflect a single, great truth: that Min was, and would always be, her type.