- The Archivist, your narrator.

" We always did love the very same one,

Tangled up in blue..."

"Be a good girl while I'm gone." Marséna joked, affectionately kissing Shesayne's raven black hair as the half-elf happily embraced her lover.

"Yeah, you take care of yourself and come back to me a full, complete and convinced woman, so we no longer need to hurt each other with choices." Shesayne said softly, burying her face between the Mareterran paladin's soft, full breasts. As always, she detected that reassuring citrus sent of Marséna's perfume and the warmth that her breast had given her so many times when she had been angry or frustrated at life.

"You two are adorable." Friyya said sardonically while Syf stood aside in the little kitchen of their apartment in Quarters and pretended not to have an interest in proceedings.

"Why don't you come?" Marséna challenged, "Your skin could use a little colour. As pale as you are, we would say you look like death." She was in no mood to fight with Friyya, though, just to leave as quickly as possible. Like Virginia, she thought it appropriate to wear her white and gold dress uniform before leaving, though could not wait to slip into something more comfortable; the starchiness of her current outfit stifled her.

"Oh no," Friyya retorted in kind, running a playful hand up the skirt of Marséna's tunic and placing a playful slap on her legendary bottom, "Mother always said that ladies ought never to go out into the sun."

"Play all you want, I know you wish it were yours." Marséna snapped back.

"Marséna," Shesayne interjected, raising her head to invite one last kiss from her lover's lips, "no fights, no quarrels, no fuss, just have a great time."

It was the Mareterran girl's pleasure to kiss the shorter-half-elf back, clutching her petite frame tightly against her.

"Good for you, Shesayne." Friyya said airily, "Teach the big, tawny cat to hold her tongue."

"Friyya...I am not that fucking dark!" Marséna snarled, moving forward to face her auburn-haired tormentor.

"All I wanted to say is good-bye and see you soon, no need for violence." Friyya replied, playfully kissing Marséna on the lips, leaving the dark-haired paladin somewhat lost for words.

"She's toying with your mind, as usual." Virginia chided. She too felt that she was leaving in fulfilment of something and it was not only the strange woman's prophecy, though there remained something uneasily suspect about that episode, as if someone were steering her in that direction. Nevertheless, it was Virginia's pleasure to spend some time alone with Marséna and, better still, to learn to know her friend better. All she had heard of Marséna's home-world, Mareterra, and the country of Overnha came from her friend's stories. Virginia thought it ironic that only then, when Marséna had finally won her homesickness, did they decide to return.

"I will wait for and celebrate you upon your return." Lily said with unnecessary formality as she stood in the doorway of Virginia's room, a little aside from the rest.

"Don't worry, I would think it inappropriate to ask your for a good-bye kiss." Virginia replied.

"It is good that you know me at least that well." Lily replied, a bemused, almost affectionate smile creeping onto her lips. Relations between drow females always manifested privately; it was the duty of each female to carefully inform herself of a given relationship network and not make do with superficial signs of desire or affection - those were easily manipulated and could lead to disaster.

"Be nice to Shesayne, Lily, please..." Virginia implored one last time. No matter how many times the dark elf promised to be civil, Virginia did not quite believe her.

"Oh, don't worry-worry, Virg," Shesayne reassured amiably, finally letting go of Marséna, "we'll have a great time, won't we Lily?"

"If you insist." The drow replied dismissively, crossing her arms over her ample breasts. Virginia could not help noticing that her lover was still wearing only a white blouse and nothing else; the very thought of those stiff, violet nipples straining against the fabric was enough to make her set the trip aside in her mind and let her thoughts wander somewhere else entirely.

"Make sure you buy yourself something nice." Virginia invited, "I left you two hundred marks, as a gift, I am afraid it isn't much, but it was the best I could do."

"There was no need to do so, I can adapt." Lily said coolly. It was, to put it mildly, embarrassing for Virginia to disclose the fact that she had given Lily presents in publics. In drow society, that was the way one treated subordinates which, the dark elf concluded, unfortunately for her, appeared to be the case under these circumstances.

"I am certain you can," Virginia said with a smile as Marséna led the way out, travelling pack clutched firmly in hand, "but let Shesayne help you when you choose, she knows the right places."

"Uh, Virg," Marséna interjected as she opened the door, "is that a...good idea?" The rare times they had gone out to the Bazaar together, most of Shesayne's wardrobe recommendations had been too scandalous even for Marséna to begin contemplating.

"Maybe," Virginia said, her tone sinking to playfully lusty pitch as she edged Marséna out the door, "as far as I'm concerned, it is."

"Have a nice trip." Syf said amiably before preparing to leave herself; she would soon be called to lead a formal weapons drill and decided that it was high time to polish her armour, "by the way, Friyya," she said, turning to her lover, "I hope you are well on your way to preparing something for tonight. Ithunn and Inge are coming."

"I know." Friyya said, a malicious, satisfied smile spreading across her lips, "And I promise you, my sweet Syf, I have never been more ready in my life." Old habits died hard and the auburn-haired paladin knew that this was the ideal opportunity to exact retribution from Ithunn for the humiliation she had endured. Refraining from telling Syf was one thing, but she had never promised not to take revenge in some other way.

"What are you so happy about?" Syf inquired curiously as she proceeded to make her exit, "I thought you hated cooking."

"Not when it's for you, my treasure." Friyya lied.

"Right, see you this evening then." Syf was perplexed: she knew that Friyya loathed all menial chores with the exception of anything that had to do with clothes or her own appearance. Ever since their Consecration, when they had finally obtained a small apartment within Quarters for the four of them, it was Virginia who had cooked virtually every meal with impeccable skill. Conversely, Syf remembered the pall of desperation which fell on the kitchen duty detail - when they were novices - whenever Friyya was assigned to it.

"So..." Friyya began, turning to Lily and Shesayne as soon as Syf had left, "what are you two ladies planning on doing tonight?"

"Leaving." Lily said curtly. This social gathering between priestesses and underlings struck her as a sort of courtship ceremony: surely Syf and Friyya had decided to enlarge their patronage networks with new allies and/or lovers. Given the unpredictability of these processes, Lily decided that it would be wise to make herself scarce, especially since Virginia would not be there to protect her. Realistically, she thought herself capable of fending off and defeating Friyya with ease, but Syf...well, even the drow knew when it was better to fight another day.

"Oh, what a shame, I thought of setting the table for the both of you as well." Friyya said, yet again lying through her teeth.

Shesayne was not fooled, "Nice to see that you love us so much." She chirped.

"What?"

"Well, sending us away so we won't be poisoned or made permanently unwell by your necromancy...er, cooking." Shesayne joked, her impish smile broad and irreverent as ever.

"You vulgar little girl." Friyya said with a haughty shrug of her shoulders.

"Thanks, thanks, you'll make an awful mother some day." Shesayne wanted to add 'almost as bad as mine', but stopped herself. Not even Friyya deserved that insult.

"Shesayne, if we must go, shall we go now?" Lily said wearily. She had already changed into her functional black leather and canvas full-body complement.

"Please...do." Friyya said. She was trying to remember where she had put that cookbook she had taken out of the library, despite the fact that her intentions for the evening did not revolve around eating, she was inclined to at least make an effort. There was no reason Inge and Syf should suffer for the little evening she had planned for Ithunn.

"Good idea, Lily, let's let Friyya play the housewife...oohh, I bet that it gets Syf all hot and wet when Friyya wears an apron..."

"Out!"

***********

Following their rapid escape from Quarters, Lily and Shesayne found much to talk about. More specifically, Shesayne spoke much and Lily listened in irritated silence. There was simply no point in replying because the dark elf knew of not strand of conversation which she found a suitable pretext for discussion with hyperactive Shesayne. In the first place, the speed of the half-elf's speech was still something Lily was trying to become accustomed to, and secondly - and more humiliating still - came the fact that Shesayne's liberal use of physical expressions of her affection seemed to arouse the curiosity of passers-by. Lily had cringed internally when she heard a distinguished-looking - as distinguished looking, she decided, as human women could be - lady comment to a friend: "Is it not wonderful that this city brings us all together?...they look just perfect as a couple...". Lily begged to differ.

"Hey, so you hungry, thirsty, curious?" Shesayne asked, suddenly realising that Lily was more unresponsive than usual.

"No." Came the succinct reply. Shesayne's perpetual motion was distracting to Lily, as was the half-elf's outfit which involved a vermillion corset-like top laced at the back and a matching skirt with such a radical slit it was effectively a loincloth which reached halfway to the knees.

"Lily...c'mon, I'm trying to be friendly here, we can do anything you like...I'm buying, just perk up a little." There was a side of Shesayne that really wanted to know Lily better, perhaps even become friends with her.

"Perhaps you ought to 'perk down' a little."

"Lily, treasure, that isn't an expression - at least, not one we'd understand in Sigil." Shesayne corrected, winking playfully.

"I go by deduction, excuse my imprecision," Lily said coldly, "and why do you use what I understand to be terms of affection when you speak to me?"

"'Cause I like you," Shesayne volunteered, "and 'cause I know Virginia well enough to know and be convinced that if she likes someone, deep down that person has to have a good side."

"I do not imagine Virginia has taken a liking to me for my good side." Lily snapped, increasing her pace. They were going nowhere in particular, just walking through the vast array of stalls, vendors and side-alleys that constituted the Great Bazaar. The smell of a varied selection of products, shopkeepers and customers was more than a little offensive to Lily's sensibilities but, she supposed, she would have to get used to it in due time.

"What?" Shesayne asked in disbelief.

"When we first met, she had no opportunity to know me as an individual. She found me beautiful, as well she might have, and decided that she wanted to make me hers. I realised that she was a priestess - or your equivalent - of some status so I allowed it." Lily did not believe that she had to teach Shesayne even these basics of social interaction.

"Now that's nasty, unfair and really cynical, even for you, Lily." Shesayne said sharply.

"But true." The dark elf concluded, "And rightly so, I would have it no other way. I am pleased to call Virginia my mistress and protector, for she has shown herself worthy of my favours and my obedience."

"Alright," Shesayne said, deciding to defend her turf, "let's just say that that's true and taken for granted and everything: maybe the first few nights, she wanted to fuck you and that's understandable 'cause you're a pretty impressive piece of drow architecture, if you catch my drift, but after that - well, she could have just tossed you back on the street, no questions asked, after growing bored and fed up with you."

"Of course, but, shallow girl that you are, you assume that what I give in return is limited to a few days. In truth, I suspect that Virginia has taken a liking to me because she thinks that she can form me in her image. This would be a long and complicated process."

"So you admit it's not just the friction between the sheets?" Shesayne said triumphantly.

"Now...perhaps no, but bear in mind that we drow have no sentimental illusions about the reality of things. Had I been a hobgoblin or a kobold when we first met, do you think Virginia would have been equally swayed to take me in, bathe me, feed me and couple with me instead of running me through with her blade where I stood?"

"But Lily, isn't that a sad, depressing and oh-so-dreary vision of the world?" Shesayne asked, desperately hoping for some redemption in the argument.

"Yes, but that is how it is and I, of all beings, know this to be the case."

"And why's that? Pray tell, my sweet drow cynic extraordinaire."

"I came to the surface because I had to, not because I chose to. When I still lived my life as a Priestess of the Spider Queen in the city of Ille-Athalath, deep within the heart of our world, I knew all of power and status. My House stood proudly over the trade in the rare substance Tidzidh which brings its users in close communion with the Demonweb Pits so that no Priestess can properly call herself such without having sanctified herself by its use. There was no drow city for a hundred thousand leagues that did not contract with us for the best price on Tidzidh. I was not First Daughter, but Sixth of seventeen..."

"Wow, seventeen, how d'your mother..."

"Fertility," Lily snapped, "is the Goddesses' favour. In our city, each Matron must, by tradition, bear child once every ninety-nine cycles of her womb."

"Nice...so lots of brothers and sisters, right?"

"Sisters," Lily corrected, "my Matron-Mother would never have deigned to carry male offspring; they are dispensed with soon after conception." In Lily's House, as with most reputable families in Ille-Athalath, only the Matron-Mother, like a Queen of sword-spider hive, was permitted to bear offspring; when male seed was required, it was normally provided by lesser households. For the male concerned, the honour of insemination was a dubious one, for his sacrifice would promptly follow. By the time her seventeenth sister was being born, Lily was old enough to participate in that ceremony: she vividly remembered her eldest sister extracting the hapless male's still beating his heart from his chest. It had been a strangely arousing sight and she had pleasured herself at the thought of it for many day afterwards.

"Bells of the Nine Hells, I feel real sodding sorry for your men." Shesayne said, making a face. Cruelty in all its guises made her uneasy.

"Regrettably," Lily continued, "this time was to come to an end. I had always known my elder sister - our House's Second Daughter - who had been charged with our network of information and contacts to be useless. I knew this because she was more interested in coupling with a fellow Initiate of mine from the Temple who was well known for being inane, ineffective and primarily distinguished by her pleasing appearance and little else, not unlike that Friyya...This lack of attention caused her to neglect the warning signs that a coalition of three lesser Houses had risen up against us so that, when their combined forces besieged our home, we were caught unprepared. Rest assured my second sister and her worthless lover died the most abominable deaths before the final assault began, but, in the end, we were overwhelmed by numbers alone."

"Hey, Lily...I'm sorry, I didn't know." Shesayne said, apologetically sliding an arm around the drow's shoulder. They had stopped for the moment near the entrance of the clothing emporium Shesayne had intended to recommend to Lily, though the half-elf was too entranced by the story to dare interrupt it.

Stiffening slightly under Shesayne's touch, Lily continued, "Under the combined force of their magic and their summoned servitors, our House was eradicated and our home and all its assets cast in the depths of a sunless crater which is now the only testament to the existence of my family. I...I am the only one left. There was but one scroll with a gate spell inscribed on it so I used it to activate a portal just as the forces of our enemies had gathered outside my room. My thirteenth sister, who was quite comely and had great potential, was with me and begged me to take her. Although she had been my bedmate, I shall never forgive her for that moment of weakness, for she knew as well as I that the portal would have been destabilised if two had travelled through it. So I left her to her fate."

"No, Lily, really, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I don't care, 'cause, as I said, I like you. Maybe I can relate to you, though..."

"How so?"

"My mother always used to tell me that our world - the world on which she had been born - had been green, and forested and full of life and the rest of that artistic elven stuff...and one day, the great red dragons that some elven goddess had trapped under the earth, hoping they would just sleep on forever, awoke. They were really ancient, really powerful and really fucking pissed off so they wrecked everything; destroyed whole cities, whole forests, sent the elves scattering and all, my mother said, was lost. Those who got the chance picked up and packed up to Sigil or other places. Which is why she came here and why I'm here." Shesayne said, hoping to at least have formed a link of empathy with Lily.

"I see, but you are a halfbreed." Lily said, unsure of how to express that particular thought without offending Shesayne more than was necessary.

" 'Mother dear' was really lonely and really scared when she came here. She just fell for the first one who offered protection, shelter, comfort, whatever...and that person just had to be a sodding human. She never thought about it, though, never thought what she'd do with a half-elf daughter and a street full of people who did nothing from daybreak till nightfall but call her a whore." Shesayne said bitterly, her hand clenching reflexively around Lily's shoulder.

"I see you are saddened." Lily said, somewhat indifferently. Empathy was not a strong point of drow culture and much less so when the suffering of surface elves was involved. In less testing times, Lily would even have been immensely pleased to hear Shesayne's narrative which, considering her present circumstances, ran too close to the bone to her to draw any real enjoyment from it.

"Nah, sometimes it was just tough, 'till I met Min, then she sorted anyone who had a problem with me out right quick...you know, Min, the tiefling girl with the long red hair..."

"Yes," Lily affirmed with a certain degree of approval, "I remember from our outing and from our work. She is most, what is the word..."

"Beautiful?"

"Not quite the word I was looking for."

"She made you want to be in a room alone with her so you could try out all the crazy, fucked up stuff you ever dreamed of and have someone pull it off better than you ever imagined possible?" Shesayne ventured at such speed that it took Lily a long moment of reflection to make sense of the sentence.

"Something like that." Lily conceded, perplexed.

"Yeah, Min does that to you. We used to say that she was like a Viper-Tree flower: the most beautiful and most dangerous thing to grow out of the Hive."

"So why does she allow that loathsome elf to couple with her?" Lily inquired, the bile in her throat rising at the mere thought of Aerylle.

"Lily, I'm only going to say this once. My mother's a surface elf too, Moon Elf, if you need to know, and she'd probably want to kill me more than she already does if she knew that I was talking to the likes of you. But the point is, Lily, that I really, truly, honestly don't care what she thinks. She told me all the horror stories you can imagine about how your kind does strange, creepy and spidery things, but right now, I'm not thinking about that."

"So, pray tell, what are you thinking about?" Lily challenged.

"I'm thinking that you're actually really decent - as drow go - and that you've heard me out, and that's more than most surface elves have ever done for me, and that you're really pretty and I wasn't just playing that time I kissed you in the Styx Boatman. I really, truly liked it and it made my spine tingle and if I could, I'd do it again." Shesayne said, without a hint of embarrassment. She was never shy with her emotions. Some chose to call this attitude of hers temperamental, as far as Shesayne was concerned, though, she was just being honest.

"I will bear that in mind," Lily said, warming slightly - Shesayne may have been irritating, but she did have a certain strength of conviction which was not without its merits, "but now, perhaps, we should proceed with this clothing business."

**********

Inside the tailor's shop, Lily was both fascinated and taken aback by the fashions on offer. It was certainly nothing like what she had been accustomed to, though Shesayne appeared to be in her element, navigating the different shelves with ease and enthusiasm.

"May I help you ladies?" A fairly distinguished, middle-aged human woman with a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles inquired with almost obsequious interest.

"Yes, certainly, madam." Shesayne replied in her well-polished, affected bourgeois accent - she did not have a costume, but that, she had learned in time, was not necessary. There were many daughters of wealthy households who had begun to dress in alternative fashions as a sign of rebellion, all she had to do was convince the saleswoman that she and Lily did not have to be thrown out as a matter of course.

"And what would that be for?"

"Well, my friend here was inquiring after something casual, but elegant, we have already been around to see some other specialised tailors, but have yet to find something to our satisfaction." Shesayne said with a gentle smile which immediately and predictably disarmed the saleswoman. Lily could only look on in partial admiration: she had, of course, deduced the nature and general direction of Shesayne's ruse almost immediately, but was curious to see where it would all end.

"I believe I have just the thing. Darkweaver spidersilk in white or blue just in from Pandemonium, these are especially popular with our drow clientele so we tailor them accordingly." That came as a relief to Shesayne, she had feared that, going by elven sizes, Lily would have been hard to fit at the bust and hips.

"If you could be so kind as to show us a sample." Shesayne requested in her sweetest voice.

"With pleasure." The saleswoman briefly disappeared into the storeroom at the back of the shop. When she returned, Lily could hardly contain her satisfaction: a patterned white and black spidersilk dress with a plunging neckline and four slits in the skirt. It was almost something a true Priestess of the Lloth herself would have been proud to wear.

"What do you think, Lily?" Shesayne queried, hoping the dark elf understood the nuances of the game.

"I suppose it could be considered adequate, how much?"

"One thousand seven hundred, though, at a stretch, we could settle for a thousand five." The saleswoman offered.

"A kind offer indeed," Shesayne said, never neglecting to smile, "but my friend was also interested in something a little less formal, perhaps some leggings and a blouse."

Running a practiced eye over Lily, the saleswoman had no problem selecting a plain but very chic white blouse which Shesayne was certain would be most flattering on the dark elf, and a pair of skin-tight, smooth and oily-black leggings.

"Your skill, madam, is commendable," Shesayne beamed, laughing inwardly at the truly absurd script she had written for herself, "but I must ask, do you carry any of those blouses in my size, just one look at them and I am convinced that they are to die for."

"I may just have something of that description, but I shall have to consult the resident air mephit who is in charge of our catalogue."

"We are in no hurry." Shesayne said, beaming broadly with the sparkling eyes of a spoilt girl on a shopping spree.

Reassured by those familiar signals, the saleswoman quickly scampered into the back of the shop. At that point, Shesayne knew coordination and speed to be essential. Most shops of a certain level had inbuilt magical wards which prevented sudden escape - but only if activated. They merely had to show themselves to be faster than the saleswoman herself. Seizing her opportunity, Shesayne grabbed all the articles of clothing concerned and, with practiced haste, dashed towards the door and slipped out. Much to her relief, Lily had come to the correct conclusion long ago and, as they ran down the maze of side-alleys next to the Grand Bazaar, which few mortals knew better than Shesayne, the half-elf was reassured to hear her companion's graceful steps immediately behind her. They only stopped to catch their breath beneath the ominous signpost of the Styx Boatman tavern, which depicted a skeletal oarsman standing next to a skiff fashioned entirely out of skulls.

"You're quick." Shesayne said in admiration, still clutching the day's haul tightly in her arms.

"I am drow." Lily replied sardonically, a smile spreading across her lips. The intrepid little half-elf had impressed her for the better with her display of well-practiced deception. Perhaps, the dark elf thought, she did have some redeeming features after all.

"You have those two hundred marks on you?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you buy us lunch?"

**********

Virginia did not know quite what to expect from Mareterra or Marséna's home country, but all she knew after stepping through the portal was that there was light. It was as if there had been an ocean of deep, sunny energy that flooded her vision with such brilliance that would have been unimaginable in Sigil. That was her first impression, the she realised that it was warm, almost hot and that the ground was rocky and grassy beneath her. It took a few moments for the blonde paladin's eyesight to adjust to her surroundings before the sea of luminescence began to give way to a clearer picture of a world she never thought could be so odd yet fascinating. Before her, in the distance, endless, rolling fields of wheat, orchards, vineyards and low knolls with yellow-brown grass were all that could be seen in the horizon. Only a few farmsteads and tiny villages all built in elegant stone and red tiles and often huddled atop the larger hills, gave sign of civilisation.

"My home welcomes you." Marséna said softly, a little moved to have finally returned. She had deliberately avoided interrupting her life at the Order of the Radiant Path, though there had been times when she had been overwhelmed by homesickness. Sigil was just too grey, cold and miserable for her tastes. But at least in Sigil she had found the love and recognition she would never have found had she remained in her home country of Overnha.

"This would be the first time I step through a portal to go on holiday as opposed to a survival mission." Virginia quipped, her eyes still focused on the strange yet enchanting landscape before her. The sky was aqua blue and a great, yellow sun beat down incessantly, but not unpleasantly.

"Yeah, but you always got lucky on those. Isobel liked pairing you with Syf so she could use me to get at Friyya."

"Is your home far?" Virginia wondered aloud. The space before her was so vast and wide, as opposed to circular and narrow like Sigil, that she did not know how Marséna would even begin to navigate it.

"I gave the Portal-Keeper the best indications I had. For a hundred marks, though, I think he did a reasonable job," Marséna said smiling, the lay of her land gradually returning to her with each glance, "follow me, it's perhaps half a mile."

They walked on stony ground inhabited only by tough grass and weeds for a few paces before reaching a trail that led down into a wide expanse of orchards of what Virginia assumed to be peaches and low, tightly packed vineyards. She had never experienced air so fresh, heavy with a bittersweet aroma of fruit and the sharper smell of hot grass.

"This all used to maquia, scrubland, before we irrigated it. I helped plant this vineyard with granatxa vines three seasons before I left." Marséna said nostalgically.

"This land is your family's?" Virginia asked in amazement.

"No, it's the Commune of Overnha's, so it is owned by the great merchants and landowners who live in the town. They rule us through the Consell de Cent, the city council, so while they waste our time and theirs with politics, we farm their land and keep half of what we tend to. With the other half we pay our taxes."

"Half...that would be quite a lot to give to those who refuse to work the land."

"Yes," Marséna said ruefully - she had never quite lost the anarchist streak which the conditions of her upbringing had instilled in her, "but thankfully the land is good, so we never went hungry."

"Marséna..." Virginia said softly, pausing to crouch by a vine and inspect the swelling fruit, so red they were almost black.

"Yes, Virg?"

"I'm happy to be here with you. I wanted to come because someone or something insisted that I should and I still don't know whether or not that was but a dream that overtook me while I was conscious. But what the strange woman said is true, I feel right here. To me this place is distant and strange, but your presence makes me part of the natural order of things, here where we stand." Virginia hoped her friend understood, for there was no clear way to communicate the feeling that being on Mareterra was almost like discovering Marséna all over again.

Marséna remained silent, but placed an affectionate hand on Virginia's clear, short blonde hair, cut a little above the shoulder. Like a sheaf of wheat under the sun, it had already grown warm, "Come," she said finally, "let me show you where I grew up...that and I'm dying in this uniform. We should probably get into something more comfortable, the sun has just past its peak and the afternoon will be hotter than you imagine."

Nodding eagerly, Virginia followed the raven-haired paladin's lead down to the end of the path and into a clearing dominated by a small, stone farmstead surrounded on every side by orchards. A field of wheat was visible in the distance behind the simple, but sturdy structure which Virginia imagined to be Marséna's family home. As they stepped into the clearing, Virginia's ears were greeted with the unfamiliar sound of small flocks of geese and ducks calling to one another as they hurried down the dry, rocky earth.

"Mare? Prisca?" Marséna called out tentatively, moving closer to the farmstead. The response was almost immediate: two girls, dressed in plain white cotton dresses came running excitedly out of the front entrance, calling Marséna's name as they fell into her arms, clutching onto her as if for dear life. They were soon followed by the altogether more dignified presence of a well-built, matronly middle-aged woman who wore a similar white dress with an elaborately knitted blue shawl around her shoulders. It was at that moment, when the simple yet terrifying deductive exercise of realising that she was faced with Marséna's mother, that Virginia began to feel painfully awkward again.

"Virg, these are two my sisters: the little one is Lenora, the older one is Prisca." Marséna said, smiling broadly. Her siblings were already bombarding her with questions so that she too felt somewhat out of place, for when she had left, Prisca had been a child and Lenora an infant. Much to her satisfaction, though, her mother nodded her head approvingly in her direction upon seeing the dress uniform of the Order.

"How do you say hello?" Virginia said, fascinated by the turn of events. Marséna's sisters were, on closer inspection, evidently so, but the older one looked like she would soon become every bit as impressively statuesque as Marséna, though her frame still needed to fill out a little.

"Salve." Marséna replied as she briefly disengaged herself from her sisters and went to greet her mother with an effusive embrace at the doorstep.

"Salve." Virginia called tentatively, lightly waving her hand as she approached Marséna's sisters.

"Salve te." Prisca replied shyly, Lenora clinging tightly to her older sister, seemingly fearful of the pale, blonde visitor.

"Virg, come here, my mother would like to meet you." The invitation jerked Virginia from her quiet contemplation of the two girls. Unsure of how to proceed lest she offend her hosts or, by cultural ignorance alone, commit some breach in politeness, the blonde paladin made sure she approached the doorway slowly and took a respectful, low bow as greeting. Both Marséna and her mother began laughing almost at once and Virginia was decidedly surprised to feel a strong, calloused hand on her shoulder as she was drawn into an embrace with a woman she had never met before in her life.

Marséna's mother was strong and carried her years well, for she chattered energetically in her own language whilst Virginia nodded politely, hoping for some outside intervention to at least clarify the situation.

"She says we should get changed and in the meanwhile she will prepare something for us." Marséna clarified as they moved into the farmstead's spacious stone kitchen with a simple wooden table at the centre. The smell of garlic, dried peppers and dried herbs permeated the air.

"Tell her she does not need to bother with us, I brought some provisions." Virginia said, indicating her travelling pack.

"Trust me, Virg, she does." Marséna nodded knowingly, "Now follow me upstairs, I'll see if I can find something for you as well."

In a perplexed daze, Virginia followed Marséna up a sturdy wooden ladder to the living quarters which consisted of two rooms. One, Virginia presumed, for Marséna's parents and the other laid out with six tightly packed beds. A little light filtered into the loft-like chamber through small, open windows placed strategically at an angle, so as to prevent too much rain from sweeping in.

"You better change," Marséna instructed, "you could well sweat to death in your uniform."

Gingerly, Virginia began to undress, unclasping her belt and loosening her dress tunic before gently folding it atop her travelling pack. As Marséna did the same, Virginia could not help but admire her friend, more radiant than she had ever been under the Mareterran sun. She was so strong, yet so feminine, her muscles lithe and supple under sun-kissed skin, her breasts full but graceful and beautifully framed by charcoal-black locks as she knelt down, naked to rummage through a wooden clothes chest. Every motion of Marséna's appeared sensual, effortlessly at ease with her surroundings, causing a certain dryness in Virginia's throat and quickening in her chest.

"Perfect...catch!" Marséna called as she tossed Virginia a light, almost flimsy, sleeveless cotton shift with a circular neckline. The Mareterran girl was already busying herself with stepping into a similar garment and, all of a sudden, she looked more graceful and more at ease than ever, as if she had finally returned to her element.

"Uh, Marséna, how do you think I look? I mean, does it suit me?" Virginia inquired curiously. There was no mirror and though she was perpetually fascinated by other cultures, the sudden transition had been speedy, even for her.

"You look wonderful. Se bela que me pena." Marséna said reverently, the deep, brown pools of her eyes looked directly at Virginia in a way the blonde paladin had rarely, if ever seen before.

"What does..." Virginia began, before stopping. Some things did not need to be translated; that would just have spoiled the moment.

"You're so beautiful it hurts." Marséna said quietly, before quickly turning around to close the clothes chest and arrange the uniform she had hastily discarded next to Virginia's.

"Thank you." Virginia said simply, her heat beating faster still. In truth, she felt somewhat vulnerable in the light dress, but at least, she imagined, it as appropriate for the climate.

"Well, hurry up then," Marséna chided, her voice becoming energetic once more, "I'm starving. Goddess, I think I've been starving for years if you call what they gave us in the mess-hall food."

"You miserable, ungrateful girl," Virginia joked, a smile spreading across her lips, "all the times I cooked for you..."

"There's always room for improvement." Marséna replied as she led the way back down the ladder. It took Virginia's breath away to see the Mareterran paladin's magnificent curves beautifully framed by the pliant dress. She would have given anything to become that dress but for a moment, to contain every part of Marséna and hold her close.

"Virg!" Came the insistent call, waking Virginia from her reverie.

"Coming."

*******

The meal Marséna's mother served was as epic as it was unfamiliar to Virginia's senses. They ate in the shade of some trees in the orchard on a makeshift table that had been garnished with fruits, cheeses and preserved vegetables of every description, baked dried fish, wheat noodles cooked with beans and tomatoes and strong-smelling meat dish which Marséna had cryptically, and ominously, identified as 'goose preserve'. Throughout the meal Marséna appeared happy to switch intermittently between her native tongue and Sigil's lingua franca, sometimes translating choice pieces of information either way and sometimes not bothering to do so at all.

"Sorry it's a little empty here," Marséna said, devouring her second lump of yellow sheep's cheese preserved in oil, "my father and brothers are in town for market week with my older sisters."

"Don't you want to meet them?" Virginia asked. The food was objectively quite savoury and very flavoursome, if heavier than what she had been accustomed to. Every dish was punctuated by the liberal use of olive oil, walnut oil or goose fat.

"And say what, ciara?" Marséna replied smiling, "If I must be honest, I feel as awkward here as you do. I left little more than a child: two of my sisters and two of my brothers have been married since then and gone off Goddess knows where. You can't uproot a vine and hope it will grow right back."

Virginia nodded, pleased that there was no regret in Marséna's voice. The Mareterran was, after all, a pragmatist and Virginia knew this. She clearly felt affection for her family, but that was because, despite an occasionally abrasive exterior, Marséna was a loving person. As Virginia reflected, however, she could not help but see Prisca staring curiously in her direction, even as Marséna spoke with animated enthusiasm with her mother.

"You see, she appreciates you." Marséna said, patting Virginia on the thigh.

"What did she say?" Virginia said reflexively as soon as she heard Prisca commenting about something to Marséna.

"She said you need more sun, you look like a fresh cheese." The Mareterran answered, smiling broadly.

"Well, tell your dear sister it isn't my fault that Ortho is a misty, rainy world. " Virginia said with affected sensitivity.

"It wouldn't matter, I am the first member of my family to leave Mareterra, they simply could never understand how vast the Multiverse is."

"Say, I hate to impose, but you would not, by any chance, happen to have some wine..." Virginia said, hoping that at least some alcohol would mitigate the stiffness she felt surrounded by a language she did not know in a country she had only seen in her dreams.

"You see, Virg," Marséna said, a laugh building deep inside her as she put down the piece of brown bread she was using to scoop up some preserved duck liver, "that's the funny thing I always meant to tell you. Women in Overnha aren't supposed to drink..." That comment, when associated with Marséna's infamy as the primary source of contraband wine in the Order, sent Virginia into quite undignified hysterics. Marséna's relatives could only look on in bemused curiosity, seemingly taken aback by the pale, eccentric girl from another world.

Later, as Marséna's mother cleared the dishes, Virginia sat in contemplation under the shade of an old plum tree. She had insisted, through Marséna, in helping with any household chores, but the response had always been a staunch refusal. So, in the heat of the late afternoon, grateful for the calm and shade offered by the tree's wide branches, Virginia decided to watch the stream of time flow by. She was focusing on Prisca, as the adolescent girl busied herself with plucking a freshly-killed goose in the shade of a little tool-shed by the side of the farmstead. The motions of her fingers were so precise, so entrancingly rhythmic that Virginia found herself caught up into the process almost as if it were hypnotic.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Marséna said, taking a seat next to Virginia and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The blonde paladin leaned back gratefully onto Marséna's shoulder.

"Yes, she looks so much like you did the first few weeks. Shy, but strong, mysterious, but beautiful."

"I think I will always be grateful for all you did for me. You will never know how difficult it was when I was all alone." Marséna said, tenderly kissing Virginia's hair.

"Please, it was only natural, you were heartbreaking when you looked sad, your eyes betrayed all the suffering of your soul...but you know what, you were pretty cute as well." Virginia said, allowing herself a chuckle and returning to her careful observation of Prisca's expert movements.

"Thanks," Marséna said sarcastically, "and, before you get any ideas, remember that my father is trying to have Prisca married."

"Who said anything about that? Do you genuinely believe that is all I have on my mind?"

"Of course not. If I recall correctly, I had to be the one to teach you how everything worked." Marséna said snidely, remembering her first year as a novice when, in the communal bathing chamber after lights-out, she had unsteadily, but ultimately successfully, guided Virginia to her first climax.

"My mother certainly never told me." Virginia spat bitterly. Marséna had never quite understood the resentment the blonde paladin felt for her mother, but she knew it wise not to ask. Virginia's normally pleasant and charming demeanour were seriously undermined whenever the subject came up.

"Hush, Virg, we shouldn't talk about it." Marséna said soothingly, drawing Virginia's head into her lap.

"Perhaps not." Virginia sighed. Now she realised why the strange woman had said it was the will of the Multiverse for her to be on Mareterra. Lying in Marséna's lap, close to her heart, seemingly enveloped between firm breasts and thighs, Virginia suddenly felt as if she were one with her world. It had been too long, she decided, that she had been separated from Marséna's loving embrace, her warmth, her unforced laughter and irreverent sense of humour. She needed to reclaim what was hers and give back what was Marséna's.

It was Prisca's curious voice that stirred Virginia from her thoughts.

"Qu'al portra'?" The girl repeated curiously, eyes fixed on Marséna, who laughed gently, patting Virginia's bottom.

"Care to translate?"

"She asks which one of us would wear the wedding dress."

"Oh, Marséna...I sincerely hope you didn't tell them that we were intimate." Virginia said disapprovingly. Under those circumstances, the thought of meeting Marséna's mother again became positively unpleasant.

"Yes, but only because my father wasn't here."

"Is it forbidden?"

"No, but many, especially the men, consider it shameful. My father and brothers always respected me and held me in the highest esteem, they were saddened enough when they learned that I could never marry because no one in Overnha would take a woman said to have Furies' blood. It's strange, though, because they say that in ancient times, the daughters of the Furies brought retribution on those who committed crimes against the Law of Nature: that they slew mothers who smothered their children and butchered sons who dared raise a hand against their parents."

"I see," Virginia said, "then it is your calling. I know your conscience is often angered by so much that you see in Sigil." Perhaps only Syf equalled Marséna for crusading zeal against the exploitation and enslavement of the weak or vulnerable. She may have been a pragmatist, but Marséna was a pragmatist with an end.

"Yes, because my conscience knows that there is so much good we can do...even Friyya."

Virginia laughed softly - sometimes Marséna's humour was just infectious, "So what are you going to tell Prisca?" The slender girl stood expectantly, curiously scrutinising the couple.

"You of course, you look better in white. I would wear my dress uniform and..."

"No," Virginia interrupted gently, "first, as far as I know, Ortho women don't wear white, but gold, and secondly, and most importantly, I have never desired you more than I have now. I think I once saw your dressed like you are now in my dreams." Virginia, of course, neglected to mention that the dream in question was after the traumatic night when she had expressed a desire to Marséna to know herself and others better before deciding on a commitment. That unfortunate series of events had been the genesis of their currently ambiguous relationship.

"Then so be it." Marséna said, running a palm gently down Virginia's cheek before meeting her sister's gaze, "Io lo portrej." Nodding happily in satisfaction, Prisca returned to her chores, content in the knowledge that her sister remained the fine woman she aspired to be some day.

"I told her I would wear it." Marséna said softly. All that could be heard was a light breeze stirring some of the leaves in the orchard.

"I know."

"If you would have me..."

"Come," Virginia interjected quickly, sensing the potential for the situation to go far faster than she was prepared to envision, "is there some place we can take a bath?"

*******

There was a secluded stream which served as the fount for the irrigation works which gave verdant life to the vineyards and orchards around Marséna's home. After a long walk in the fields, where Marséna seemed to know everyone and everything, there was little Virginia was looking forward to more than a cool immersion in the clear water. There were no proper evenings in Sigil, so the sight of the sun beginning to set, bathing the fields of wheat and the great, silvery olive trees in a deep, orange glow was something entirely new and singularly beautiful in Virginia's eyes. Marséna had brought her travelling pack with her and was busy searching for some cleansing oils and a sponge to relieve them of the exertion of the day.

Overnha seemed too idyllic a country to Virginia, though she knew that was the case because she was a mere visitor. Life may well have been harder than she imagined, nevertheless, staring at the great reddening horizon with few signs of human life, unlike the bustling, grey streets of Sigil, she thought she may as well have been in Elysium. Since the evening was much cooler, Virginia almost felt her simple white dress too light, but pleasantly so, for the chill of the sunset breeze was a relief on her hot skin.

"Marséna, I can see your farmstead from here." Virginia said, leaning back against an ancient, gnarled olive tree, admiring the panorama that spread before her. The trek up the hill had been long, but it was well worth it to find a place of such peace.

"It was one of my favourite places as a child. We used to come up and play here and, twice a year, I would pick olives on this hill to bring to the grinding stone. It was hard work and even the boys were amazed at how many olives I brought in and how much I managed to eat afterwards..." Marséna was interrupted by Virginia's lips against her own. The kiss was savage and needy, like a parched traveller arriving upon a spring in the middle of a desert. The blonde paladin's tongue was as persuasive as ever, it sensual rhythm easily persuading Marséna to follow its lead.

"Are you certain," Marséna said, her breath short as the heat of passion cloyed her throat and filled her with suffocating fire, as she cupped Virginia's delicate, fine-boned face in her hands, "are you absolutely certain, because I will not be able to stop myself."

"I need you...and, it was torture to wake up each morning without you at my side." Virginia sighed, the noise of her heartbeat flooding her ears.

"Then why did you leave me?" Marséna said softly, her sensual lips nearing Virginia's again.

"I never said I wouldn't come back, never for a moment." The kiss was renewed and it was electrifying and it was once again Virginia to take the lead, desperate to atone for what she now knew had been a mistake mere days before her Consecration. The blonde paladin thrust Marséna forcefully against the gnarled olive tree, her hungry lips kissing the delicate, iodine-tan skin of the Mareterran girl's throat, trailing lower to nestle in the valley between those magnificent, sun-kissed breasts. Marséna had no choice but to lean back and allow Virginia to unleash her pent-up desire. She needed no invitation, for Virginia had freed Marséna's breasts from the loose cotton of her dress, the light brown nipples stiff from arousal and the cool evening air. It was as if each stiff little peak sitting atop Marséna's beautifully rounded, soft breasts begged for Virginia's lips and the blonde paladin lost no time in obliging them. The first contact of her lips on the sensitive nipples was sublime, a refreshing touch of sensual wetness which enveloped the sensitive flesh.

In that instant, Marséna realised exactly what she had been missing: the sensation of Virginia's diligent tongue on her breasts was something she had never forgotten. Virginia knew Marséna's body with such precision and intimacy that the Mareterran had no secrets left to disclose. Marséna sighed softly, the gentle, only slightly painful strategic grating of Virginia's teeth against her nipples was delicious, but a mere anticipation of what she knew was soon coming. Virginia plunged lower, falling to her knees as Marséna desperately hiked up her dress, bunching it at her hips as she leaned back against the tree and spread her thighs. She was sodden, so wet that even the raven-black curls atop the juicing, pink lips of her sex were slick with nectar. Wasting no time in diving in Virginia was rewarded by a deep moan from Marséna as the Mareterran girl encouraged her lover, clasping her hands around Virginia's soft, blonde hair and pulling her closer in.

To once again lose herself in the velvety, moist warmth of Marséna's sex was paradise. There was no other word Virginia could use to describe the sensation of wetness, the taste of salt and sex, the tender, familiar folds of lust-swollen flesh which now parted eagerly under her expert tongue. Marséna could only mouth Virginia's name in half-suffocated gasps as the blonde paladin set to work, re-discovering the sensual, juicing flesh which had been her joy for many nights when they had been novices. Marséna had not changed one bit, always reacting with passionate gasps and sighs each time Virginia struck a particularly sensitive spot as she trailed her eager, teasing tongue in wide arcs, grazing only briefly over the tiny engorged bud of the Mareterran's clitoris. If Virginia had wanted to once again drink from Marséna's fount, the raven-haired girl had been no less eager, as Virginia noted when she raised her hands to open her lover's bronzed thighs even more only to find moist droplets of arousal on the soft skin.

Marséna thrust her hips rhythmically against Virginia's mouth, her full, tanned breasts heaving with the motion of her pelvis and the almost painful tempo of her breathing. Deciding that it was time to close in for the kill, Virginia parted Marséna's slick inner lips with two fingers, sliding the tense digits effortlessly into the flooded canal. Once she was satisfied that she was lodged deep in Marséna, Virginia began to apply a firm, intermittent pressure on the Mareterran girl's pink clitoris, her tongue flicking in rhythm with the patient grinding of her fingers deep in her lover's sex. When her sensual peak hit her, Marséna was already one Plane removed towards the Seven Heavens, the sudden release of the knot of tensions in her loins flooded her mind with white energy as she shamelessly cried out her orgasm for the fields and trees to hear. Driving herself once more against Virginia's lips, Marséna felt the secondary contractions of her climax overtake her, replacing maddened passion with a more mellow sensation of well being. Virginia made sure to keep her fingers deep inside Marséna for good measure, just to remind her lover that they belonged to one another, joined together by the bridge through which all life had to pass.

Utterly satisfied with her climax, Marséna slumped back as Virginia quickly pulled off her own dress. The sight of her lover naked and obviously aroused was a dream that had haunted the Mareterran's mind for too long. Although she had always admired Virginia's lithe, slender frame, her compact, but noble breasts with their impeccable, pink nipples, and that adorable patch of golden hair between the pale girl's muscular thighs which hid a treasure Marséna knew she could lose herself in forever, just feeling the velvety moistness around her cheeks and hearing Virginia's mewling sighs.

"In the pack, Virg, I brought something special for you." Marséna said dreamily, her deep, brown eyes fixed on Virginia's elegant form as she tossed her own dress aside.

"I love you because you're an eternal optimist." Virginia said, frantically searching through the leather satchel and finally retrieving the familiar and intricately inlaid white olisbos they both knew so well. Just feeling its abstract patterns under her fingers was something of a trip into the past. There was, however, little time for reflection as Virginia eased its root end into the sopping juncture between her thighs, the firm yet fleshy material quickly adapting to the aperture and taking root, spreading its enchanted feelers deep into Virginia's being. Now it was as if the cool air which caressed the dildo filtered directly into Virginia's sex, filling her with a renewed spurt of passionate desire.

"It's been too long." Marséna said almost inaudibly, for the passion in her throat choked her words. Virginia was almost instantly there to kiss her once more, the residue of the Mareterran's passion still on her lips, "And I need you so much." Marséna continued between kisses, running her fingers down the slick surface of the dildo, waiting for its enchantment to generate the requisite moisture.

"Are you ready?" Virginia asked passionately, her lips kissing Marséna's chin as she brought the slick tip of the thick olisbos to the outer lips of Marséna's sex.

"Yeah, wait a moment, though." Marséna replied, shifting so she could turn around, engorged nipples pressing against the rough bark of the olive tree, and lean forward, her hands gripping two low lying branches.

"Goddess..." Virginia gasped at the sight of Marséna' perfect - no, more than perfect - sculptural bottom upturned and presented to her. Two tan, half-moons so firm, yet so feminine following on perfectly from the slim flare of the Mareterran's hips. Between them, and Virginia knew this only too well, nestled the tight, pink pucker of Marséna's wild rosebud, a flower in early spring while her sex was a blossom in full summer bloom.

"You missed that, didn't you?" Marséna said lasciviously, biting her lower lip in anticipation as she lightly swayed her hips back and forth, encouraging Virginia.

"You always make me do the most wanton things." Virginia said between gritted teeth as she slid the tip of the glistening olisbos between the firm musculature of Marséna's bottom. The sensation, communicated down the shaft and deep into the blonde paladin's sex, was already almost unbearably arousing. As she felt the warm tip of the firm implement pause at the tight pucker of anus, Marséna prepared herself, hugging the tree against her, revelling in the sensation of the bark against the sensitive skin of her breasts.

Gritting her teeth, Virginia thrust in with more force than she had planned. Marséna could only give way under the power of the assault, her rosebud blooming and popping open to accommodate a good half of the thick, textured shaft.

"Goddess!" Marséna whimpered. It had hurt much more than expected.

"Oh, Marséna, treasure, I'm sorry," Virginia said apologetically, moving to withdraw as she affectionately caressed the Mareterran girl's smooth, arching back.

"No!" Marséna gasped in response, gritting her teeth, "Take me. It's just that it's been so long that I'm not used to it anymore, so start slow." Despite the pain, she was possessed with an overwhelming desire to be please Virginia.

"As you wish, my love, but tell me if it hurts too much." Virginia cooed as she began to work the white dildo in slowly, deliciously parting the stretched, pink rosebud, filling the blonde paladin's sex with such a sensation of moist, gripping tightness that she thought that it would only be moments before she came. The enchantment was as reliably accurate as usual, for Virginia's clitoris was in flames, as if it were literally being enveloped in the glorious recesses of Marséna's bottom. When Virginia had sunk in to the hilt, she waited for Marséna to grow accustomed to the intrusion, taking her time to kiss down the Mareterran's back, her hands caressing muscular flanks before moving forward to cup her lover's soft, swaying breasts.

"Right," Marséna said with determination, feeling Virginia hugged close against her, "now you may do with me whatever you wish."

Virginia required no further invitation as she withdrew and thrust back in with some force, beginning to establish a brisk, needy rhythm, gripping Marséna's warm body close to her with each thrust. The sensation of the Mareterran's sucking, clenching rosebud against the olisbos was ecstatic, so pleasurable it was almost painful in its sensory assault. Clutching the tree, Marséna allowed Virginia to take her pleasure, encouraging her lover with low, ragged moans and grunts each time she thrust back in, parting the sensitive inner flesh with long, decisive strokes. As Marséna squirmed and moved in rhythm with Virginia's penetration, the blonde paladin immersed her face in the raven-black curls of her lover's hair as it flowed down her back in a long cascade. There she could smell the faint smell of citrus perfume mingled with traces of sweat and dust. Lost in a sensual paradise, Virginia did not last much longer, the slight tugging motion of Marséna's anal ring against the dildo was infuriatingly pleasurable - so much so that it verged on the painful, for the shaft communicated the sensation as if the blonde paladin's clitoris was being likewise pulled free of its hood. She laid in her last half-dozen thrusts, before feeling, quite literally, the explosion of a small sun of hot passion deep in her loins which sent almost painful electricity coursing into her belly and deep in her sex, as she howled her passion into Marséna's back. Quite simply, Virginia had not had a climax like that in a long time, with the possible exception of Lily's electrical trick.

Lying slumped over, her breasts rising and falling rapidly over Marséna's back, Virginia knew that the distance of time and other lovers had only magnified their passion. When she was certain she would be steady on her feet, Virginia withdrew gently from Marséna's bottom, planting soft kisses on her lover's back with each slow, methodical inch.

"The things we do together." Virginia said as the dildo finally slipped free, eliciting another gasp from Marséna.

"That was wonderful. We can be so spontaneous, you and I...I tried taking Shesayne that way, but she's so slender, so delicate, I was afraid of hurting her." In truth, it was Shesayne who had offered on the spur of the moment to try something different. When Marséna had objected that it might be painful for her lover, the petite half-elf just shrugged and added, somewhat disconcertingly: "I've done it loads of times with Min and yeah, of course it kind of hurts at first, but in a good way...".

"No, Marséna, let our intimacy be just that - the two of us and on one else." Virginia said gently, indicating the stream, "We could both use a dip."

The water was cool, but that was a relief to Marséna's skin, still flushed with the heat of her arousal. Virginia had carefully set aside the olisbos and crouched into the flowing current, sighing in relief as she felt it wash against her inflamed sex.

"Come, sit here." Marséna invited as she planted herself near a familiar spot near the bank and began to splash herself, just to get accustomed to the sudden drop in temperature. Her midnight-black hair was already matted from the spray of the stream. Virginia was only too happy to comply and sit between Marséna's legs, allowing herself an irreverent giggle as soon she felt her lover nuzzling her hair, planting soft, enthusiastic kisses on the blonde mane.

"You have no idea how happy I am, just to be here with you." Virginia said, biting her lip as she felt Marséna's hand spreading her sex, parting the lips wet with water and arousal.

"It would have been sad visiting my home again had I been alone," Marséna confessed, cupping one of Virginia's firm breasts, her fingers trailing teasingly over the engorged, pink nipple as her other hand busied itself under the blonde curls of her lover's sex, "in Overnha, family is everything - or almost -, but the fact is, that I've found another family somewhere else." The Mareterran's strokes were soft and languid at first, easing Virginia's sex to a state of arousal, before becoming more intense as they circled in firm, precise arches around the clitoris.

"But you are happy to see your home, if only briefly." Virginia commented, more interested in the increasing tempo of Marséna's fingers on her breast and between her thighs. By then the Mareterran was devouring Virginia's neck with wet, passionate kisses, her voice sultry and low as she spoke.

"Of course, but the truth is that Prisca is my flesh and blood, but I don't think I could say that I love Friyya any less." Marséna had slipped two fingers deep inside Virginia and had begun to use the heel of her hand to grind against the blonde girl's sex.

"I know that you are afraid of telling her how you feel, because you ahhh," Virginia said, interrupted momentarily by the vigorous twisting of Marséna's fingers deep in her sodden sex - the combined pressure of the darker woman's hand and the steady flow of the current was maddening, "because, you are sometimes afraid that she feels something less for you. But believe me, that truly isn't the case."

Marséna increased her rhythm, biting down gently on Virginia's shoulder as she felt her lover's first contractions around her fingers. Ever responsive, the Mareterran dug down into the sensitive inner flesh of the blonde girl's canal, all the while grinding her palm vigorously against her stiff, eager clitoris. Virginia's peak was less intense this time, but no less satisfying, her pleasure conveyed in harsh, ragged breaths as all remaining traces of tension were seemingly washed away from her by the stream's current. She slumped back, snuggling against Marséna's soft, tan breasts and surrendering herself to the Mareterran's caresses.

"I'm in love with you, Virg," Marséna began, repeating the litany that her brought her so much pain, "what I said then, in the Baths before our Consecration, that's all still true. Just stronger today than ever."

Virginia thought for a moment, allowing Marséna to run gentle, eager fingers down her pale, taut belly and high, aristocratic breasts, before formulating a reply, "When you said that we can do so much good, I think you did not only mean the weak, the enslaved, the exploited. They are our priority as paladins of the Radiant Path, but we also have other duties; duties to those who love us every day."

"You're not answering me, you're evading, Virg, as usual." Marséna said sadly. Virginia just huddled closer, placing gentle kisses in the valley between Marséna's breasts.

There was a pregnant silence before the blonde paladin replied, "My treasure, I am sure we could be so happy together, but we have to show ourselves worthy of our responsibilities, as individuals as well as devotees of the Vigilant Maiden."

"I...I could wear that dress for you, white or gold, it doesn't matter," Marséna ventured desperately, wrapping her arms tightly against Virginia's waist, "I would take care of your every desire..."

"Marséna, I do the cooking." Virginia said, smiling sadly.

"I just want you to be mine forever, just as I would be yours if only you asked me."

"That would not be fair to Shesayne."

"Don't misunderstand me, I love Shesayne, but I don't think I'm in love with her." Marséna said, almost inaudibly.

"Then you have to tell her, because I think she is just as confused as you are."

"Fuck, Virg," Marséna snapped impatiently, planting an affectionate kiss on the blonde girl's head, "I hate myself when I do this...I should be stronger, but sometimes I need you to be strong. Like when I first came to the Order; it was maybe fifteen days after I became a novice and I was...well, a little homesickness was keeping me awake. You climbed down from your bunk and asked me if there was room for two, because you said you were afraid to sleep alone. Only that it was you who held me close until I was at peace and not the other way round...clever girl, you always knew that flattery would get you places. But that was when I knew that our paths were set to flow together."

"Maybe you should give me a little time to think about Lily."

"Does she love you as I do?" Marséna said fiercely.

"Probably not, but I have a duty towards her. I know you love me, Marséna, so please allow me to fulfil my duties to others first - that is the sacrifice we must make as Paladins of the Radiant Path."

**********

It privately pleased Syf to return to her lodgings and find Friyya cooking: it was a happy, almost stereotypical image of domesticity and one which Syf had remembered with some fondness from her early days, when she was still living with her family. Leaning over the kitchen table, Friyya was dividing her time between trying to combine the requisite quantities of vegetables in a pot and checking the stove to ensure that it had enough charcoal to keep the heat constant. The ideal, at that point, was to compliment Friyya on her efforts, inform her of how one could hardly wait to consume such a sweet-smelling repast. Syf, however, preferred not to push he dubious skill in lying too far and contented herself with wrapping her arms around Friyya's waist as the auburn-haired paladin desperately sought to make rhyme or reason of the cookbook, and kiss her lover's fragrant hair.

"You look so sweet when you read." Syf said quietly, sliding a hand up Friyya's alabaster thigh and under the skirt of her tunic.

"Thanks, but under no circumstances think of getting used to me cooking." Friyya replied, glad that Syf had returned to at least give her some relief from the frustrating, humiliating exercise for which she had volunteered and which she was in the process of bitterly regretting. At least, she thought, Ithunn would have her comeuppance.

"I would not dream of it. As a matter of fact, I think you need a break." Syf commented sensually, craning her neck to kiss the shorter girl's cheek.

"Is that so? Do I look flustered to you?" Friyya had turned to meet Syf's lips; the dark-haired paladin had already begun to trace two fingers down the crevasse of her lover's delectable bottom to the base of a rapidly moistening sex.

"No, but I think you deserve a little treat for being so kind as to prepare dinner tonight." Syf's words were punctuated by increasingly wet and sensual kisses that trailed down Friyya's soft, snow-white throat.

"I would have settled for a little kiss," Friyya said coyly, turning to face Syf and lifting herself on the kitchen table with her thighs spread, her bare feet gripping on the edges of table for support, "but if you insist."

Syf knelt between Friyya's thighs and slowly hiked up the skirt of her lover's tunic. She took her time to admire the reddish-blonde curls in perfect contrast with the pure white skin of Friyya's inner thigh and the soft, juicing velvety warmth of her sex, already pouting and eager for attention. Deciding to heighten the sensuality of the occasion by teasing her lover a little, Syf began to slowly trace a pattern of kiss down Friyya's inner thigh as the auburn-haired girl drew a sharp breath of anticipation. It was then Syf knew it was time to dive in, to once again taste that vital, tender warmth and that intoxicating moisture redolent of her lover's arousal. Syf lapped at Friyya's spread sex with passionate determination whilst her hands held her lover's thighs apart, her thumbs gently spreading the outermost labia to allow better access to the sweet, flowering centre within.

"Hmm, Syf, you will spoil your appetite." Friyya moaned, as her beloved tongue probed her sex with expert energy.

Ignoring Friyya completely, Syf resolved to redouble her efforts, knowing that she would have been happy to skip dinner altogether and spend the evening exploring the auburn-haired girl's impeccably elegant body. There was always immense pleasure to be had from a slow, methodical exploration of Friyya's body, because every nook and cranny of it revealed something beautiful and sensual. Each curve, each fold of Friyya's sex was a sweet little secret to be coaxed out with gentle licks of the tongue while the auburn-haired paladin squirmed, her melodious voice filling the air with whimpering little cries.

"Syf..." Friyya gasped as she felt her lover's tongue begin to trill rhythmically against her clitoris. It took every ounce of self-control in Friyya's body to stop her wrapping her legs around Syf's neck and grinding her sopping sex violently into her lover's face. Friyya's most passionate side wanted to see Syf's sharp, noble features covered in the slick residue of her arousal, to kiss her own fragrant nectar off her lover's lips. On second thought, though, Friyya decided that she was equally aroused spreading herself for Syf and letting the taller girl do the hard work. Which was something Syf was doing commendably as she gently worked a thumb into Friyya's juicing sex, inwardly pleased that her lover responded with a sharp gasp, the inner flesh parting effortlessly under the assault. It did not take Friyya much longer to reach her peak, mewling in deep satisfaction as Syf finished her off with sharp, little strokes against her clitoris coupled with the gentle thrusting of the thumb against the inner walls of her canal.

Friyya took a few moments to catch her breath while Syf absentmindedly placed casual little licks on the swollen lips of her sex and the soft insides of her thigh. To come into communion with Friyya's body was an experience which Syf guarded jealously, for only she knew her lover's sex like the back of her hand, only she knew the right moment to strike and the right moment to hold back. Making love to Friyya was an art, like fencing, and one which Syf would never tire of mastering over and over again.

Once her heartbeat had returned to a more relaxed rate, Friyya dismounted gracefully from the table and fell into Syf's arms, nestling her head against the familiar softness of her lover's small but pert breasts.

"Now my cooking won't taste as bad." Friyya joked as Syf's lips met hers in a deep, intimate kiss. She could taste herself on Syf's lips, so she knew she was privileged to share in the gift she had offered her raven-haired lover.

"If only some of your admirers knew the things you say when we make love." Syf reprimanded gently, clasping Friyya's slender, statuesque form close to her.

"You're the only reason I allow myself to be so overcome with desire."

"Are you not disappointed that Isobel did not declare me squad leader?" Syf asked quietly. In retrospect, Isobel had discreetly approached her to explain her decision, specifying that whilst Syf was excellent leadership material, she was, first and foremost, a warrior and would always remain on the front line. Virginia, Isobel had said, was better rounded - definitely Ceremonial Guard material and it was the sad destiny of warriors to be, at least in name, outranked by those closest to the High Priestesses.

"No," Friyya replied truthfully, clasping her lover's hands in her own, "I understand the logic of Isobel's decision. She sees something of herself in you: she too is content with being Vice-Commander and being the Maiden's strong right arm, while Virginia is destined to be Her eyes and her judgement. You have different paths that you must follow, but no one, least of all Virginia, will have any doubt of who will lead the paladins of the Order into battle."

"I'm glad to hear that. If you want to take a bath and get changed, I think I can handle the kitchen for you." Syf offered. She was relieved that Friyya did not think to attribute the blame to the bloody incident in the side-chapel, especially because Isobel had given her word that Syf's personal life had exerted no influence over the decision.

Considering how wet she had been, Friyya decided that it would be best at least to rinse herself out a little, perhaps wash her hair, even apply some lotion to her heels since she had noticed her boots chafing there...in conclusion, "Are you sure Syf, I might be a while."

As far as Syf was concerned, of course, that was never in doubt. There were times when she thought the process of brushing down Friyya's hair before bed and in the morning was something normally associated with the torment of the lower layers of the Abyss. Nevertheless, she was happy to help out in any way she could, "Certainly my beloved, take your time. I'm certain you will be more stunning than ever." To invite Ithunn had been most unorthodox, but Isolde had once shown Syf similar kindness by spending half a day in the inner recesses of the armoury with her, letting her handle the finest swords in the inventory, normally reserved for senior paladins, as a reward for the novice's dedication to bladecraft.

"Why thank you." Friyya said, as if the compliment had been expected, "Now are you certain you don't want me to apply just a little powder to your cheeks, or perhaps the faintest trace of lip..."

"No." Syf interrupted before Friyya's imagination wandered too far.

"You have such pretty, noble features, Syf that..."

"That they are more than adequate without cosmetics, now go take your bath. We would not want to keep our guest waiting." They had discussed this issue before and Syf, as much as she loved Friyya, had little sympathy for the latter's vanity and obsession with expensive, superfluous items.

"Oh, certainly not." On that issue both Syf and Friyya were in agreement.

**********

Ithunn had to admit that Inge looked very cute, charming even when she presented herself in the novice paladin's dormitory in the more formal white trainee's robe, her light blue air allowed to flow freely around her shoulders. That instant of aesthetic appreciation, however, did not diminish the dread she felt at facing Friyya again. It was a visceral fear that almost offset the prospect of sitting in front of Syf for the entire evening. Inge was, as ever, effusively affectionate, much to Ithunn's irritation - as far as the novice was concerned, the less evident their 'relationship' was the better. It had been bad enough that Inge had begun to expect intimacy on a regular basis and even when she did not, she invariably sought refuge in Ithunn's bed under the feeble and absurd pretext of 'a bad dream'. Not that lovemaking with Inge was necessarily unpleasant; it was more awkward and potentially embarrassing, not least because when the trainee priestess reached her climax, she made sure Ithunn knew with a whimpering, high pitched cry which was audible, no doubt, halfway across the dormitory.

"How do I look, my sweet Ithunn? Do you think I am presentable as the most promising novice's beloved?" Inge queried eagerly, turning around to give Ithunn the full view. The robe, at least, went some way to complement Inge's delicate, willowy frame.

There was no single word to describe the novice's sensations. Under the circumstances, she simply felt ill at ease and Inge's almost childlike enthusiasm was only making matters worse, "I think it...wonderful." Ithunn finally blurted, failing to find some other less banal compliment.

"Then that is more than sufficient for me." Inge said, smiling broadly, her large, grey eyes overflowing with genuine happiness. Had Ithunn been any more cynical or pragmatic, she would have considered any sudden disappearance on Inge's part a gift from Goddess insofar as it would take away the daily assault of - granted, involuntary - emotional blackmail which the trainee priestess inflicted.

"I think we are ready to go." Ithunn said curtly, briefly re-examining herself in a handheld mirror she had borrowed from her bunkmate.

"Well then, my love, please lead the way." Inge said enthusiastically, extending her hand for Ithunn to take. The trainee priestess was upon her in an instant, arms clutched tightly around her waist. At this rate, the night, Ithunn concluded, would be longer than a mapping expedition into the Astral Plane and potentially just as frustrating.

The brief walk up the winding staircase that led to the lodgings reserved for Consecrated paladins was one of the longest in Ithunn's life. Inge chattered on mindlessly about how all the other novitiate priestesses in her year were jealous of their relationship. All Ithunn could think of was that incident when she had lost her calm in the library. If there was one stupid thing she had done in her time as a novice, it was that: and it was needless stupidity as well since Friyya was, objectively and regrettably, the person Syf trusted most of all.

"So some even asked about the details of our lovemaking...can you imagine that?" Inge said with excited satisfaction, "How rude and shameless can one be? Really, but, though I know that I cannot be the woman of your dreams, at least I am a lady of integrity who knows how to treat her lover honourably."

"I see..." Ithunn said, not really paying attention.

"Ithunn, my love, you are listening to me, right?" Inge said, her eyes once again wide with expectation.

"Yes, Inge, of course." The novice reassured quickly, planting a quick conciliatory kiss on her friend's cheek.

Thankfully for Ithunn, any further tension was temporarily defused by the sight of Syf standing at the threshold of her lodgings. Like all the other apartments reserved for junior Consecrated paladins, it lay on a wide, semi-circular hallway, one floor below the personal cells reserved for commanding officers and above the novice's dormitory complex. Syf stood waiting for her guests, her arms crossed, her piercing blue eyes as stern and compelling as ever.

"I am pleased to have the pleasure of your company tonight." Syf greeted.

"As we are honoured to be your guests." Ithunn took a shallow bow in recognition and stepped into the apartment's small common room, Inge still clutched firmly to her.

Friyya, immaculately groomed and dressed in an elegant white gown, was just setting the bread on the table - it had come out a little hard, but it was, at least in her estimation, edible, "How lovely to see you both," she called out, a broad and not entirely genuine smile spreading over lips, "please sit down. I fear that I may not be the best of cooks, but I hope that what I have prepared is adequate for your tastes."

Thankfully for Ithunn she was not compelled to formulate a insincere reassurance; Inge did it for her, "I am certain that it will be every bit as delicious as you are beautiful, Sister." On further consideration, Ithunn decided that there was simply that Inge's cloying, innocent sweetness would finally find a use in - hopefully - diverting Friyya's attention. She only hoped that the auburn-haired paladin was as susceptible to Inge's cherubic smile and sad, grey eyes as she was.

"How sweet of you, Inge; Ithunn," Friyya's voice was pointed with only the slightest emphasis on the novice's name, just to remind her that all was neither forgotten nor forgiven, "perhaps you would like to take a seat. It is my pleasure to serve you tonight."

Ithunn could only steady her nerves and comply, grateful for the fact that Syf immediately began to discuss her brilliant future as a paladin, telling her that she should continue to practice a two weapon style in light of her virtual ambidexterity.

"If done properly," Syf specified, ensuring that she took the seat directly in front of Ithunn, "a longsword-shortsword style or even sabre-short rapier technique often throws opponents. In our line of work, you will often be confronted by multiple opponents, having a weapon in each hand, I am told, often makes things easier in cramped quarters, as long as you know what you are doing."

Dinner proceeded relatively painlessly for Ithunn. As she had predicted, Syf spent most of her time chatting amiably to her whilst Friyya pressed Inge with banal, but sociable, little questions which the initiate priestess eagerly answered. Predictably, the meal itself was close to the disastrous, though Ithunn made every effort to work her way through a bland, watery soup - which at least took the hardness out of the bread - and an equally watery brown stew in which the meat and sausage had been overcooked to the point of being leathery and the vegetable burnt. It was just when Ithunn thought, amidst Inge's smiling and - inconceivably - apparently sincere compliments, that she had managed to make Friyya forget the worst that the novice was proven wrong.

"So, Ithunn," Friyya's voice was like honey laced with poison, "I hear you like to be quite helpful in the armoury. Syf tells we your weapons sharpening skills are second to none."

"I like to do what I can." Ithunn said evasively, staring into the smoky-smelling remains of her stew, forcing herself to ingest each coal-tasting mouthful.

"Sorry to ask, but perhaps you can help me. You see, I seem to have ripped one of my dresses at the seam and, well I know Syf thinks I'm awfully vain, but I was wondering since, you are such a good seamstress, whether you would mind fixing it for me."

There was an awkward pause. Ithunn gripped her spoon so hard her knuckles went white.

"Ithunn, child, I did not you were skilled with needle." Syf said incredulously.

"I...I had some practice." Ithunn said softly.

"Is that so," Friyya said, feigning interest, "did your mother teach you?"

"Yes." Came the virtually inaudible reply.

"So, did you never think to enter into a less dangerous profession, perhaps enter the 'textiles trade' yourself." Friyya suggested, affecting innocence.

"Don't be foolish, Friyya," Syf interjected, raising a dismissive hand, "it would have been a loss to the Order had Ithunn never followed her calling. She is one of the finest swordswomen I have ever seen."

"Oh, well, of course, you need not remind me of that," Friyya said amiably, pleased to see Ithunn tense and pale, "I suspect you will also make an excellent instructor some day...did you not have experience taking care of children?"

"I have three younger sisters and a younger brother." Ithunn said curtly. Though normally not a violent or resentful person, Ithunn felt a mounting need to silence Friyya - in whatever way possible. The double exposure with Syf and Inge present had slipped from the embarrassing to the humiliating. When she had joined the Order, she had sworn she would never spend another soul-draining night by the fireplace darning torn garments to buy milk for her sister. Friyya, no doubt, had probably deduced something to that effect.

"Oh, how sweet," Friyya said, the danger in her voice just barely perceptible, "and do they not miss their big sister? I mean, I realise that you wanted to find a...new life for yourself," the paladin continued, carefully emphasising choice words, "but if I were them, I would like to see my diligent, loving sibling from time to time..."

"Friyya, what are you talking about?" Syf said, perplexed both at Ithunn's barely repressed anger and the voice she had thought Friyya would never use again. It was the same, poison-sweet, spiteful tone she had used so often, and to devastating effect, as a novice.

"Oh, nothing, just letting my thoughts carry me away." Friyya said dismissively as she rose to her feet and began to clear the plates.

"Ithunn, my love," Inge said softly, turning her expectant eyes to the novice, "perhaps you could have a look at one of my robes, I tried to fix it, but I keep getting the stitches..."

"Shut up, Inge!" Ithunn snarled under her breath and the trainee priestess recoiled in dismay.

"You must excuse her," Syf told Ithunn apologetically, "sometimes she allows her...imagination carry her away. Now come, child, do not be ill at ease."

Ithunn nodded miserably, happy to at least have Syf on her side. Friyya, however, had yet to ready her killing blow.

"I heard you took a little evening out recently, Ithunn," Friyya began, extracting the rich dried-fruit and rosewater cake Virginia had baked before leaving from the pantry, with every intention of passing it off as her own "it reminds of the days in which Syf and I and a couple of friends escaped for a few hours of fresh air."

It took every single ounce of self-control in Ithunn's frame to stop herself overturning the table and lunging directly for Friyya. She hated both herself and Friyya for the situation: Friyya for humiliating her, and releasing the anger, frustration and violence she had always kept bottled up, and she was angry at herself for succumbing so easily to the challenge, for letting her lower emotions get the better of her.

"Friyya, perhaps we should talk about something else." Syf said firmly, beginning to grow uncomfortable with Ithunn's tense silence.

"Oh no, I thought Ithunn could tell us all about it, after all, Sigil has such wonders to offer. It is the gateway to the Multiverse, so any pleasure from any Plane of existence one seeks, one is sure to find it here." Friyya's smile could as well have been demonic as it spread across her sensuous lips.

"Apologies, Syf, but I fear I must leave." Ithunn said, her throat tightening. With almost nervous haste, she turned and left, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

"Ithunn, child, please," Syf called desperately, following after her out the door and down the stairs, "I am certain she meant nothing by it."

Inge remained motionless, shocked and surprised beyond words, hoping that a little reflection would cast some light on what had just occurred. Friyya continued smiling with perverse glee as she plunged a sharp knife into the fragrant cake and cut a generous slice.

"Some cake, Inge?"

*********

"Ithunn, wait!" Syf called desperately as the novice descended the stairs, running with desperate, furious leaps through the deserted courtyard towards the Temple, "Ithunn, stop now! That is an order." The paladin shouted. She was in no mood to play.

Ithunn stopped dead in her tracks under the great colonnade in front of the temple. The power of Syf's order was more greater than the force of her anger and her frustration, "It simply is not the right night, Syf. So before Friyya tells you, I think I should tell you that I behaved stupidly in the library and reacted with violence to her provocations."

"Violence?" Syf pressed sternly, closing in on Ithunn.

"I pinned her against the bookshelf. She called me a whore and was about to strike me. I reacted on impulse and for that I apologise. Punish if you wish, I do not care. That does not matter now." Ithunn said dejectedly. Much to her surprise and joy, Syf promptly gathered her into a tight embrace.

"I suspect what happened stemmed from Friyya's desire for vengeance. I know she can be petty and spiteful at times, but she is a good person - though I am sorry that you had to bear her in her worst guise." Syf reassured, both pleased and somewhat embarrassed as she felt Ithunn sinking against her breast.

"Why was she so cruel to me, Syf?" Ithunn said softly, happy to be deep in Syf's strong, comforting arms.

"Is your past truly that sensitive for you?"

"Yes, I volunteered to join the Order not only to take the burden from my parents, but to never again be forced to do the work of a serving-girl, never again beg for a better price for fabrics at the Bazaar."

"I understand," Syf said - she could feel empathy for Ithunn in so many ways, not least in terms of the difficulty of her life before joining the Order, "my parents could never spare much for me either..."

"No, Syf...you had to live it...I love every single one of my brothers and sisters with all my heart, but I could not be called onto to be a mother. You cannot ask a girl, barely more than a child, to put away everything, to live by tradition and to be a second mother to her siblings all at once. It simply was not fair. I had my own needs, my own loves and desires, but those were brushed aside."

"But that is behind you now, child, I will be the first and most enthusiastic supporter of your life as a Consecrated paladin. If there is anything you ever need, you can come to me." Syf comforted as she overcame her inhibitions and finally planted a soft, affectionate kiss on Ithunn's head.

"Syf..." Ithunn said quietly but clearly, "I am in love with you."

"I love you too, child."

"No, Syf, I am in love with you and I was delighted for both you and Friyya, because she seemed to make you so happy. But now, I can only look at her with nothing but resentment. She made a mockery of me."

"Ithunn!" Syf said sharply, "We already discussed this. It isn't to be. In another world, perhaps, but not now and not here."

"I...I understand, will you at least hold me tonight?"

"I think Inge would be grateful to do that in my stead." Syf said calmly.

"Inge can go hang!" Ithunn snapped, clutching Syf tightly around the waist. It was then that she felt a sharp jerk as Syf thrust her out of her embrace and struck her hard across the cheek, sending her reeling against a column.

"This is the Ithunn I cannot love. How dare you say you would protect the weak as a paladin when you cannot even protect the one who loves you the most?"

"So you say. But you were the first to fall into temptation." Ithunn replied, with more malice than she could ever have imagined from herself.

"Had I been a novice, we would have been fighting hand-to-hand by now, but the first rule of being a paladin is self control, never forget that." Syf admonished sternly.

"Really? Tell me all about it." Ithunn challenged.

"No, this conversation ends here. I clearly placed too much trust in your good judgement and good character." Syf said coldly, taking her leave. Ithunn merely remained leaning against the column, her breath short as she felt the cool night surround her. She wished that light would never break so that the shame of the evening would never be revealed to the eyes of mortals.

It was at least a strike of the Bell Tower before Inge found her. The trainee priestess promptly wrapped her arms around her lover, burying her face in Ithunn's firm, rounded breasts, "Ithunn, my love, it grows cold, come in and I will make us something warm to drink." She invited softly.

"Inge, I will only say this once: leave." Ithunn snapped.

"Oh, Ithunn, if you need to weep, I would be the first to comfort you..."

"Just because," Ithunn said spitefully, "you are whimpering child who thinks that a well placed tear will solve all of life's problems does not mean that there aren't other women dedicated to more serious tasks than playing out pathetic, adolescent romances. Now disappear before you humiliate yourself more than you already have."

Inge stood motionless, stunned to the bone, before turning and departing quickly - and wordlessly - into the darkness. Finally friendless for the night, Ithunn felt free to wallow in her self-pity and consider how useless her benevolent optimism had been. Syf did not love her, Friyya downright hated her and Inge's love was immaterial and worthless at best. In short, the Great Wheel of Ithunn's existence had reached its nadir. Now her soul was vast, empty and formless like the deepest recesses of the para-elemental Plane of Vacuum.

********

Cirily always woke up before Elyszara, even in Sigil. The very first tendrils of formless light had begun to filter though the silken curtains in their spacious bedroom and Elyszara was, predictably, still fast asleep, clutched loosely around Cirily's waist. As far the flame-haired aasimar was concerned, trust had been restored in the relationship when her lover had even insisted on presenting her newfound conquest, Ithunn, whom Cirily had evaluated as a very pretty but clearly inexperienced novice of the Order of the Radiant Path. Order, however, was not sufficient, what Cirily wanted was far more pressing, far more visceral. In times past, her mother had unceremoniously unloaded her, the product of an experimental venture with mortals, into Nerissa's care and from thence she had been assigned to be Elyszara's playmate, confidante, lover and general assistant. That was what had been established and Cirily had never once taken objection to that.

Elyszara had given her a niche and a social role she felt to be profoundly important. Now that she was needed, no one would ever unceremoniously unload her anywhere else again. But in time, Cirily was certain that her bond would have to be sealed and, for that, at least she had Nerissa's blessing. Elyszara's mother had always been sceptical of her daughter's ability to function responsibly and independently without falling into a catastrophic and spectacular spiral of self-destruction and she thus hoped that Cirily would force greater commitment and greater responsibility. So far the plan appeared to be working.

Very gently disentangling Elyszara' arms from her body, Cirily stepped out of bed and onto the cool floorboards. She was naked. They had made passionate love for much of the previous evening, with Cirily keen to show her lover just why she, and no one else, was worthy of Elyszara's unceasing romantic attentions. To that end, Cirily had deployed all her cunning and artistic vision, making sure she satisfied each component of her petulant companion's desires. As a special treat, she had even opened a few vials of highly expensive, enchanted oil specially concocted to heighten sensitivity and revelled wantonly at the sensation of Elyszara slowly, but passionately entering her sex or bottom with a slender, skilled hand.

As she wrapped a rosy, almost transparent dressing gown around her shoulders, Cirily made sure that Elyszara was fully covered under the sheets and comfortable, before making her way downstairs to begin preparing breakfast. She briefly considered bringing it to her beloved in bed, but decided that it was not constructive to spoil her too much. That and Cirily had more shopping to do in the Bazaar. Knowing Elyszara, breakfast in bed would be a pretext to lie back on the headboard and sensually spread her pale slender thighs, exploiting Cirily's tidier impulses by pouring a thin but constant drizzle of syrup or honey or her glistening sex and watching gleefully as her flame-haired lover desperately lapped it up.

"Good morning, Cirily." A tired and somewhat dejected voice came from the entrance to the elegant wood and stone kitchen. Cirily had just activated the produce fire enchantment to light the stove and heat some bread.

"Good morning, my love." She replied airily. There was something about the quiet atmospheres of mornings far away from the occasionally overwhelming tension that occasionally formed between Elyszara and Nerissa back in Arvandor.

"It started again." Elyszara growled, taking a seat at the polished, rose-granite kitchen table.

"Lys, treasure, it's like the full moon - it will happen whether you like it or not." Cirily said patiently, spooning an especially generous portion of crystallised rose petals into Elyszara's berry salad. She had, of course, known without Elyszara needing to tell her.

"There should be an enchantment to prevent it: it's disgusting."

"No it isn't...and we all know what happens when you fall down the slippery slope of using magic to tamper with life's rhythms: that's how liches come about, you know." Cirily began to set the table with a jug of herbal tea, biscuits, cream pastries and fruit. Her motions were deft, precise and delicate, like those of a good mother.

"Yes, yes...uh, Cirily, sorry, but I think we may need to change the..." Elyszara began bashfully.

"I'll take care of it." Cirily interrupted, turning back to the stove to carefully retrieve the heated bread and place it on the table.

"Cirily...I wouldn't know what to do without you." Elyszara conceded. Her last few days had almost been surreal. In all that maelstrom of memories, desire and longing, her beloved had been the only foundation to remain firm and never disappoint.

"Don't be silly, Lys, you need never do without me." Cirily reassured, "By the way, that night you were away, I took the opportunity to paint a landscape of Sigil by night. I left it in the studio. When you have a chance, take a look at it and tell me what you think."

"I'm certain it will be magnificent." Elyszara said, smiling gently. She had already started on her second cream pastry.

"Thank you, I try to please," Cirily said, approaching Elyszara lover to plant a soft kiss on her lips, "by the way, I need you to drop into the Library of the Society of Sensation. I still need to pick up that volume of audiovisual avariel poetry. It's supposed to be quite lovely, I hear."

"Cirily..."

"Yes, Lys."

"Have you ever thought of the future? I mean, where it will all end. Where you and I and everyone we love will end?" Elyszara asked, her tone more introspective than Cirily had heard in a long time.

"Of course."

"Doesn't it frighten you?"

"No." Cirily responded truthfully, tenderly running her fingers through Elyszara's soft, dark hair, "Because I face the future with you."

"And what do you see for us?"

"Let's see," Cirily said gently, eager to reassure her lover that there was no need for an existential crisis, "I see a nice, well-tended home, a good library, a rich garden with a fountain...a nice veranda on a hillside where we can have breakfast when it is light outside but the air is still cool; children you can spoil and I can educate..."

"Good..." Elyszara said faintly. With Cirily's plans for the future so concrete, so terrifying and overbearing, there was little Elyszara could do but fear still more for her place in a Multiverse that grew ever wider and more daunting.