- The Archivist, your narrator

"So Jahyra, the half-elf, now an orphan and the object of scorn and derision, took her bow in hand and a traveller's cloak and sought refuge in the wilderness hoping that, at least, the Forest Mother would embrace her...from thence she came to sorceress' tower, all over-grown with ivy...so the sorceress, who was as beautiful as a flower picked from the garden of Hanali, asked Jahyra what she wanted.

- An Elven fairy-tale

Cirily had outdone herself. The wide marble kitchen table of the spacious Sigil apartment Elyszara had made her mother purchase on a whim was tastefully arrayed with a large number of elaborate, artistic and exceedingly appetising breakfast dishes. With particular attention to bright, flower jellies, freshly baked cakes, crystallised fruit and exotic preserves, the flame-haired aasimar had transformed the dignified, elegant rose and gold-streaked marble table into an edible canvas which ran rich with every hue the mortal eye could contemplate. All such preparation, however, had a reason behind it. Elyszara's mother, the noble ghaele eladrin - who are to elves as angels are to humans - known to mortals as Nerissa had gated into Sigil for a surprise inspection. It was therefore Cirily's foremost task to ensure that her adoptive mother - the very woman who had given her a home, family and, in the fickle yet enchantingly beautiful guise of Elyszara, a lover, was suitably impressed with her talents as a chef, artist and mistress of the home.

Thus Cirily waited, almost tensely, by the table, watching the rays of light spread across the brightly polished stone and marble floor. The morning was cool and damp, not dissimilar to the perpetual golden glow of her native Dawnlands in the wildly joyous Plane of Arborea, where the Elven pantheon of Goddesses and Gods hailed from. Elyszara was the first to arrive and, although Cirily had seen much beauty in the Multiverse, her lover, at least in a physical sense, exceeded it all. Long-limbed, slender, with a youthful, utterly flawless elfin physique, she was the envy of all women who set eyes on her and the object of lust for most of those besides. So it was only natural that she carried herself with a certain haughtiness. Her almost transparent silken silver night-gown brushed against divinely pale skin with every motion, just as her long hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back, resembling the cross-section of a midnight sky: impenetrable black with violet, dark blue and shining, starry highlights.

"Good morning, my love." Cirily greeted, taking Elyszara into her arms to place a gentle kiss on her lover's rosy lips. Though she was as jovial as usual, whenever Nerissa was around, she felt at least a hint of nervousness, knowing full well that her adoptive mother expected only the best.

"Yeah...could you get me a glass warm honey...my head is fucking killing me." Elyszara growled.

- There goes the illusion of domestic bliss - Cirily thought inwardly, before venturing to speak out loud, "Please, do not tell me you are hung over." She scolded, as lightly as possible, before turning to the kitchen counter to fulfil Elyszara's request.

"No, worse," came the pained reply, "I overdid the eolisy tree sap last night, those priestesses of Hanali look harmless, but they really know how to run a midnight revel." With the cut-crystal goblet of hot, spiced honey in front of her, Elyszara's mind and soul seemed, at once, restored, so she could begin to spin her sensual tale.

"Can I tell the story or what? Anyway, I said fine, so she said that if I lost, I would have to pleasure any priestess or novice who asked, but would never be allowed to climax myself. Well, I wasn't going to be outdone by that, so I told her that if she lost, she had to let me fuck her. Well, you know how elves are...they all started gasping in shock. That's simply not something they do, even in the temple of the Goddess of Love. But she was so confident of winning that she agreed and all the novices and priestesses were whispering amongst themselves and discussing what would happen. Well, finally the lead priestess had them all quiet down before leading me, on my hands and knees, between the mystery girl's thighs. She then bound my hands with silk handkerchiefs so I could not feel in front of me and told me to start."

"No! An avariel?" Cirily said incredulously, her eyes wide with disbelief, "what an underhanded trick."

"Well, she was beautiful. She still writes, you know."

"No..." Elyszara replied, an enigmatic smile on her lips, "I said that our bet had only stipulated that I could fuck her and not that I would. So I simply said that I would rather spend some more quality time with the lovely avariel priestess and that, at most, we could try it later. The lead priestess was very relieved and grateful to return to the revel with her dignity intact."

"No," Elyszara responded amiably, "but next time remind me to think twice before going to the revel at the Temple of Loviatar, they make all those chains and whips look pleasurable, but it hurts like Tarterus...so anyway, as I was saying, it's shame there aren't more avariel around. Their bones are hollow, you see, so she was really light - lighter than me, even - and she knew these amazing airborne tricks..."

"Good morning, my beloved daughters." Nerissa interrupted, walking - no almost floating - gracefully into the kitchen. A noble ghaele knight of some rank and a personal retainer to the Vigilant Maiden Herself, her presence was like a taller, more powerful, more mature version of Elyszara. In public, she always wore her shimmering breastplate, brilliant as the dawn of three suns, but in more familiar surroundings, she contented herself with a long shimmering blue robe that changed appearance and consistency like a temperamental spring day.

"Why, it is perfect as usual, my dear Cirily." Nerissa said, taking her adopted daughter into a warm embrace and kissing her on the lips. Shivers ran up Cirily's spine - just touching the eladrin was an otherworldly experience, for she possessed a vital, angelic energy which emanated fierce goodness by its very touch.

"Right...and do what, exactly? I'm going to die at any rate, you, however, Mother, will be an accomplice of the greatest tragedy of nature - that of a parent outliving her child." Elyszara sneered. Always obsessed with mortality and the contrast between light and dark, she usually preferred deep blue, indigo or violet lip and nail paint, which she complemented with blue highlights to her eyelids. The deliberate effect against her pearl-pale skin, was to give the impression of a fallen angel.

"Don't flatter yourself," Elyszara snarled, "I certainly don't have to fall back on you."

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Nerissa replied amiably, pleased that her daughter had sunk into a more pliable mood, "Althea the ranger passed through my demesne again. She sends her warmest regards."

"That all?" Said Elyszara, her tone dripping with derision, "She should be thanking me."

"And why, may I ask, is that." Nerissa invited, though she already knew the answer.

"For introducing her to the delights of aasimar pussy, of course." Elyszara purred, smiling sardonically. Cirily glowered at her. That was certainly no way to speak in front of one's mother.

Nerissa's expression remained unperturbed, "I am pleased that you have no difficulty in finding skilled lovers." She had always spoken to her daughter very frankly about all aspects of the erotic experience though, in retrospect, she could have added that there was a limit. Lovemaking was art, joy and life in Arborea, but there was so much else besides.

"Yes, Mother, you should have seen it. Cirily's great, but she's sometimes a little one-sided. Those ranger women, on the other hand, really show you what going back to nature means..." Elyszara's provocative narration was interrupted by her mother lunging, so quickly that she was a blur, seizing her by the hair and casting her violently on the floor.

"You are certainly not too old for a thrashing, understood?" Nerissa's voice now bore the distinctive power of righteous indignation while an aura of blue light began to dance across her pale skin, "You may say and do what you like to me, but never, ever humiliate Cirily in front of me."

Elyszara lay sprawled on the floor, her eyes burning with resentment, "Bitch!" She cried between gritted teeth even if she feared her mother's anger, "It's easy when I'm so much weaker than you, isn't it?"

"Lys...no!" Cirily intervened, "Esteemed Mother, really, I was not offended, but I beg you both to hold your temper."

"Why is she the only voice of reason?" Nerissa inquired ruefully, her eyes glowing with indignation, "Why is my daughter not grateful for all that has been given to her?"

"In time, she will develop patience, Esteemed Mother." Cirily said softly, "I would let her go and only later go after her. She needs time to herself, but she also needs to know that there will always be someone who loves her and will come looking for her."

Exactly what would make Elyszara happy, however, was something Cirily had spent many sleepless nights contemplating while her lover slumbered on peacefully by her side. She would have done anything to placate Elyszara's fears, her anxieties and insecurities. But no one, and certainly not Elyszara herself, knew where or in whom this secret happiness resided.

*********

In the Temple Ward of Sigil, a more modest breakfast was being served in the simple wooden kitchen of an apartment in the paladin's quarters of the Order of the Radiant Path. Modest, of course, was a relative term for, insofar as the Radiant Path was concerned, Virginia's cooking knew no equal. As far as Virginia herself was concerned, it was an activity that allowed her to develop the more maternal side of her relationship with her room-mates and, perhaps, even with Lily. Nevertheless, that particular morning had a certain tension to it because Marséna was still distraught after Shesayne's departure, so much so that she could not be coaxed to eat, even when Virginia offered to make a fruit loaf just for her. Now that she had become the centre of Virginia's attention, Lily began to brood and sulk. Her lovemaking had been interrupted the previous day and that, in itself, was unforgivable - worse still she now had to put up with her Virginia fretting over Marséna at any given moment.

The dark elf nonetheless did her utmost to preserve an air of civility for Virginia's sake. Thus she sat, scowling, in her form-fitting, black assassin's outfit which, she found, served her very well for its ease of movement. At least, the magical retrievals and disposals agency for which she now worked gave her something else to focus her mind on for most of the day, even if it was mindlessly defusing, containing and disposing of potentially hazardous artefacts. Syf and Friyya, on the other hand, were a great deal more jovial, even as they tried to comfort Marséna with reassurances that things would either be patched up or move along, as was the natural course of things.

Marséna, however, continued to stare glumly into her porridge. Her countenance was tired, for she had struggled to sleep the night before, instead preferring to lay awake and stare ruefully at the empty spot where Shesayne would have slept by her side. It was a small bed, but Marséna had always quipped how since Shesayne's physique was so petite, it was as good as a double. That had always made her smile in a way that lit up her face, even in the darkness...

"I suppose so." Marséna said stoically. She quickly finished her breakfast and motioned to Virginia to follow her down to the Temple for first prayers. The blonde paladin complied, taking a moment to kiss Lily on the lips before following the Mareterran paladin out of the apartment. Lily did not bother to kiss back. Her irritation had been mounting by the second, something which Friyya immediately picked up.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Friyya probed, despite the sharp sensation of Syf's elbow being thrust into her side.

"Just as you were when your mistress was being pleasured by that ridiculous Elyszara woman." Lily snarled back, her red eyes burning with frustration.

"You little monster, Syf is my beloved, not my mistress!" Friyya growled rising to her feet. Lily's demeanour was relaxed, almost casual. She had won, pure and simple. Venomous insults, veiled threats and offensive allusions were common in drow society, even between intimates and the relative strength of the engaged parties was determined by how well they managed to contain their anger and re-deploy it through ever more biting comments. Friyya, had clearly let her emotions spill forth.

"Enough, both of you." Syf interrupted, a little bemused. Deep down, in the more petulant, child-like side of her mind, being called Friyya's mistress was, doubtless, appealing. She did not, however, after years of putting up with pointless, puerile fights between Marséna and Friyya, want to add Lily to that equation.

"Right...fine, blame me," Friyya said, angrily flicking back her long, auburn tresses, as she turned to leave, "I have class soon, anyway, I should get downstairs, Gallia needs to brief me on some doctrinal matters." Lily irritated her in a way which was difficult to describe. The dark elf was cynical, sarcastic, always insinuating, always oblivious to what others thought or did...or so it appeared. In sum, she was an unknown quantity and she was very good at masking her emotions, something which troubled Friyya to no end. She had always been good at reading the minds of her fellow novices and, later, paladins, but the drow girl remained an enigma.

After ensuring that Friyya had descended the stair that led out of the Quarters building, Lily turned to face Syf, who had been taking her time with a substantial breakfast of black bread and thin-sliced, ivory-white lard, "You are a strong woman," the drow began, scrutinising the paladin's every movement, expression and reaction, "yet Virginia was honoured as squad leader above you. Nevertheless, Friyya has never, to my knowledge, sought Virginia's favours."

Syf winced - for she disliked being reminded of her missed promotion, "We would say love is blind." She conceded, staring straight at Lily with her piercing, steel-blue eyes. Speaking with the dark elf was, as far as Syf was concerned, a challenging, but fascinating experience.

"But, in confidence, she is comely," Lily noted, "I imagine you enjoy coupling with her."

"You once said that the drow liked to gamble, so you were perfectly capable of accepting total victory or absolute failure. Well...we choose to gamble on this and sometimes we find true love, the sort that grows with us, and, yes, sometimes we are betrayed or disappointed. But in the end, that's a chance we're willing to take." Syf concluded. Her argument may not have had the sophistication of anything Friyya could conjure up, but, under the circumstances, she thought she had made herself clear enough.

"I think I understand," Lily said as she began to evaluate what appeared to be a preposterous idea, "so do you think Virginia should gamble on me?"

The question was provocative and Syf's mind churned to find the appropriate answer even as her expression remained outwardly calm and collected, "I think...she could give it a try. I think you're clever, interesting and quite beautiful...and, if you are reformed as you say..."

Syf was, for once, decidedly caught off guard, "Well..., I mean, you have to ask Friyya about the details...but, I suppose she does, since part of walking the Radiant Path is, after all, honouring the purest of loves."

"Indeed," Lily said, languidly rising from her chair, "a particular illustration I saw of a valiant Shield Maiden very much resembled you."

Syf had to stop herself from indulging in a very vain, self-satisfied smile, "Why thank you, I am happy that you find me pleasing."

"Is that so?" Syf began, an edge of threat in her voice, "So perhaps you would like to enlighten me as to what real femininity is."

"Why, me, of course." Lily said, as if t were the most evident thing in the world.

With her mind blank and her heart throbbing almost painfully in her chest, Elyszara careened with grim determination through the crowd, carelessly nudging passers-by out of her way, until, suddenly, a firm, familiar hand caught hers and spun her around with some force.

"How could I forget?" Came the dry response. The aasimar had put up quite an exhibition of her purported skills with the dagger by facing off against Min in a practice bout. Although her technique and raw talent had been well above average, she was severely lacking in insight and experience, so much so that Min had won without even breaking a proverbial sweat.

"Sorry, I've had a long night, but I s'pose it's nice to see you again." All things considered, however, even when she was modestly dressed, Elyszara was ethereal and utterly stunning.

"I've heard that one before." Min felt her need rise just by observing the casually sensual motions of Elyszara's slender, perfectly shaped limbs, the rise and fall of her rounded, elegantly proportioned breasts made frantic by her exertion. Her passion had smouldered unfulfilled for almost a day - ever since Shesayne had interrupted what had been a most promising session of lovemaking with Aerylle. Now, the weight of that burning desire cascaded back into Min's mind.

"Did you have breakfast? Because I haven't, if you like, there's a tavern down the street...I'm buying. It looks like we both need to talk and I certainly can't do that on an empty stomach." The aasimar said. She had read the hunger - which was certainly not for food - in Min's enigmatic orange eyes, even if the tiefling remained as composed as ever - lithe and alert with sensual energy like a hunting leopard.

"Yeah, I am, you definitely light up the burg." The tiefling conceded. She cursed her pulsing libido, because every movement of Elyszara's was hypnotic. She had such poise, such elegance.

"Good day, Madams, can I serve you with a table or with a room?" The hostess' voice was soft and cultured - very much in keeping with the staid environment.

It was then that the chain of events was set into motion. Elyszara and Min found themselves drawn into the welcoming silence of the inn, with its scent of beeswax polish and old brass. Upstairs, at the very end of the hallway, a heavy mahogany door was opened, soundlessly for its hinges had been perfectly oiled. Inside, a vast canopied bed with pristine white sheets dominated the chamber, surrounded by assorted armchairs and half-couches, all upholstered in gold-threaded silk. An enchanted fire burned in a stone fireplace while tapestries with rich, floral themes covered the walls, giving the impression that the room was surrounded by a kind of surreal garden, where flowers grew thick and intertwined, like mating serpents.

The moment the door closed, Elyszara turned to look Min straight in the eye. The tiefling did not wait, but seized Elyszara roughly by the waist and drew her into a passionate embrace, her smouldering, sultry red lips burning their passionate heat in a lusty, insistent kiss. Elyszara's eyes did not once leave Min's as she returned the kiss with almost savage passion, her tongue wrestling in an almost frenzied struggle with its playmate. Nails dug into Min's exposed flanks, just as the tiefling's teeth bit down, hard and sharp, on Elyszara's crimson-painted bottom lip. The aasimar whimpered in mingled pain and pleasure. With Min, the sensations were as one, because they both flowed into the molten fire she felt in her veins at each touch of the tiefling's perfect, taut and lithe abdomen, with its delectable contrast of soft skin and firm muscle.

"What d'you like?" Min said breathlessly, breaking the kiss to pull off her form-fitting grey top. Fine, firm breasts, in perfect proportion with Min's svelte body, came into view, each capped with a dark red nipple, already rubbery and tumescent with passion.

Min inhaled sharply at the sensation of cool, dextrous fingers tracing the contours of her breasts before very gently gracing the tips of her hot, stiff nipples with feather-light caresses, "Why can't you just be Elyszara?"

"Sounds good to me." Min sighed, barely restraining a gasp of surprise as she felt Elyszara's expert, tender lips graze the very tip of an engorged nipple, teasing it at first just with the tip of the tongue, before proceeding to caress the stiff peak with firm, eager licks. The aasimar's mouth was a warm, moist paradise, that seemed to exude sweet, airy eroticism with each breath. Min felt a surge of desire flow through her veins. Just the sight of that painfully beautiful, elfin face nestled at her breast, eyes half-closed in reverence as she suckled at her nipple was enough to send sparks of hungry anticipation down Min's spine. She needed Elyszara, she wanted to possess that arrogant, impossibly resplendent beauty and make it part of herself.

"Right...right...just a moment." Min said between gritted teeth, stepping back a moment to quickly discard her boots and pull down her leggings. The moistened arousal of her sex had left a white, filmy residue against the red leather. The soft, spicy smell of cinnamon filled the air. Elyszara watched, almost as if in a trance. Min's body simply continued to exceed her expectations: the reddish tint of her skin, the lithe musculature of her thighs, the irresistible ember-red curls of hair that covered that enticing, spicy sex. As soon as Min had got rid of the offending garments, she decided that it was high time to take advantage of the plush, ostentatiously large bed, so she drew Elyszara close and renewed their fervent, passionate kiss, all the while pulling the slender aasimar closer to the pristine, snow-white sheets.

There, Min suddenly threw herself on the bed, effortlessly dragging Elyszara down with her, "You're wearing far too many clothes for my taste." The tiefling purred, flicking her tongue playfully over her lover's crimson-painted lips, "Get undressed and then I might just consider giving you a taste of what half the girls in the Hive would sell their mothers for."

Elyszara nodded passionately as Min made herself comfortable, propping herself up against the cushions and spreading her taut, firm thighs, revealing the silky, dark red nether lips of her sex, moist and juicing like a ripe tropical fruit. Swallowing the knot of passion that had formed in her throat, Elyszara tore off her blouse, boots and leggings, her mind already fogged with the prospect of the boundless pleasures that lay at the fragrant juncture of Min's thighs. Then, finally revealed in all her splendour, she knelt obediently between Min's legs, a curious, girlish expression on her lips as she contemplated the tiefling's enigmatic, sphinx-like smile.

"Glad you think so." Elyszara said with affected modesty as she settled between Min's thighs. The warm aroma of cinnamon grew stronger. Min was soaked so that the very first lick of the aasimar's tongue against the lust-swollen petals of her nether lips was like tasting the nectar of an exotic plant: rich, stimulating and wonderfully addictive. Min exhaled in quiet contentment, and drew Elyszara closer, her fingers running through the silky mane of the aasimar's multichrome hair. With such a delectable feast before her, Elyszara saw no reason to hurry, so she took her time exploring Min, probing to see which patterns of licking the tiefling liked best, all the while revelling in the sensual flesh before her: silky, moist and endowed with a flavour she had never experienced before. Min bucked her hips, drawing her lover in closer, betraying her urgency that wound like a tense, frustrated coil in her loins. The aasimar reacted with expert poise, gently drawing her long, hungry licks closer to the tiny, stiff bud of Min's clit.

Min gasped suddenly, the heat of her lust spilling through her loins as she lifted her lips higher, inviting a more thorough exploration of her lust-swollen, velvety sex. That was not an opportunity that Elyszara could pass up, so she quite casually began to work two fingers into the sodden depths of Min's channel, easing apart the hot, juicing flesh with well-practised ease. Min's breath was ragged now, her breasts rose and almost frantically. Her need had gathered for too long and now, like an imminent storm, it felt as though all the accumulated tension and electricity were going to be released in a powerful wave of sensation. Elyszara's tongue now lapped a hard, merciless rhythm against Min's clit, her fingers sliding in and out in long, winding motions that caressed the inner walls of the tiefling's slick channel. As Min had expected, Elyszara was an expert at what she was doing: her tongue danced with all the grace of a fairy-like sprite over the passion-engorged nether flesh, her fingers, that so effortlessly mastered the swollen flesh of her channel, had a natural dexterity the tiefling had only experienced in elves.

Feeling her blood quicken just as her passion reached its rushing peak, Min arched her back, digging her curling toes into the soft sheets beneath, her ember-red hair spread on the covers in deep red tendrils like fresh blood on snow. She came in low, ragged gasps, her hips undulating like the thrashing waves of her climax deep in her loins. It was as if everything had been enlightened. All the accumulated tension of her lovemaking with Aerylle, of her bizarre yet viscerally erotic dream, had found its release and it was not savage as Min had been expecting, but long, languid and deeply fulfilling. Elyszara smiled with wicked satisfaction as she felt the spasmodic contractions of the tiefling's sex around her fingers. She could tell from the satisfying tremors of her contracting sex that it had been a profoundly satisfying release for Min.

Sinking back onto the pillows, Min welcomed Elyszara's lithe form into her arms, kissing those cinnamon-spicy with lips with wild abandon as her dextrous fingers explored the poetic harmony of the aasimar's body. With one, deft motion, Min eased Elyszara onto her back, secretly relishing her lover's instinctive submissiveness. It was as if the aasimar anticipated Min's desires, meekly allowing herself to be explored in the quiet confidence that her beauty would be more than enough to satisfy even the most jaded of lovers. Building slow-burning desire was an art that Elyszara practised effortlessly, so as Min lay atop her, devouring her lips with ever more insistent kisses, the tiefling felt something building in her that was beyond the casual sensual pleasure she had taken from countless girls in the past - this was real hunger, a primal, all-consuming desire.

"One day...one day," Elyszara groaned, lifting her hips and wrapping her slender thighs against Min's waist to ensure a deeper penetration while the tiefling's fingers thrust with devastatingly pleasurable precision, "we'll go out together and I'll do everything you say. Any tavern, any library, all you would have to say is 'Lys, lick me out' or 'Lys, pull up your dress and spread your legs' and I would do it, right in front of everyone, just for you." What pleased Min the most, of course, was that she knew for a fact that Elyszara really meant it. Each thrust of the tiefling's fingers was met with a needy, high-pitched cry, which confirmed Min's assumption that, like elves, all aasimar girls needed was a tiefling woman to sort them out.

"Another time?" Min inquired hopefully, her breath now hot and moist against the aasimar's breasts.

"Definitely...ah!" Elyszara squealed in delight as Min began to tongue a stiff, gloriously pink nipple, covering with a glistening sheen of warm dew, "But for now, just take me."

With breathtaking grace, Min obeyed, for she wanted to possess Elyszara more than anything else. There was such spontaneity in the aasimar's eroticism: everything was offered up instead of hidden, like Aerylle. To be sure, the elven librarian had the great charm of discovery, but Elyszara was an incomparable pleasure. Adjusting herself on the bed, so that one thigh slid under Elyszara's legs and the other hooked around the aasimar's waist, Min began to position herself with careful, precise movements, so that her sex, crowned with the glory of magnificent red curls, slid against the smooth, hairless surface of her aasimar lover's nether lips. Elyszara lay back and submitted to Min's touch, surrendering herself to the tiefling's lust as she casually reaching down to spread the light-pink inner lips of her sex so her tiny, yet resolutely stiff clit was fully exposed to the delightful friction she knew was coming.

Reclining with both arms tensed for support, Min began to grind her sex against Elyszara's, her pace frantic, yet betraying the lust that flowed in her veins like molten metal, filling her mind with desire, making the coils of passion at the pit of her belly quake each time she saw the poetic dance of the aasimar's firm breasts with each laboured breath. Elyszara let herself be guided by Min's thrusts, surrendering herself to that delicious rhythm that mastered her sex so thoroughly, sliding wet slick flesh together, stiff little clitorises gliding across warm, wet love petals - aasimar against tiefling - all bonded together in a sultry, erotic coupling. They lay grinding in hard, tight circles for what seemed like an eternity. Min was merciless, her passion dictating the pace of their lovemaking, but even as she ruled, she did not do so selfishly. Elyszara's spread, blooming sex had become the nexus of her passion, the meeting point of her femininity with Min's. In truth, the aasimar was pleased that her lover had not taken her with a magical surrogate, because now, locked in that frantic nether kiss of parted, lust-slickened sex lips and pliant moans, it was as if their feminine natures, on the surface so different, were finally in communion and in perfect synthesis with one another.

They took much longer to come, yes, but when Elyszara finally whimpered out her passion in long, wanton, mewling sighs, it was as rewarding as only a hard-fought orgasm can be. Like a spring rain, relief flooded her body, filling her with tired but happy satisfaction. Before she knew it Min was on top of her, arms wrapped around her back, kissing with the kind of fiery intensity she knew could only come from the tiefling. Their bodies were redolent with cinnamon and ripe fruit as well as the saltier smell of sweat, but that symphony of sensations, combined with intense, lush pleasure of kissing Min's lips was something Elyszara would not soon forget. Perhaps a little to Elyszara's surprise, Min proved to be profoundly affectionate after their lovemaking, tirelessly planting soft kisses on the aasimar's wondrously beautiful features, all the while lovingly stroking her lithe body and long, soft hair.

Min smiled enigmatically, her gently slanted, orange eyes looking down at Elyszara with bemused patience, "Y'know, I am a woman after all."

Min sat up, admiring the scene around her. No doubt, Elyszara would pay the bill because the room was worth at least five or six days of her salary. She never understood what the fixation with luxury was - it was wonderful to have enough money so as not to have to worry about it, but to waste it on such excess simply defied belief. At least, Min reflected, Elyszara never made a big deal about her wealth and was very eager to spend it on others. Then there was her physical and verbal spontaneity, so even if her accent was clearly that of a privileged young woman, she spoke with no inhibitions, so much unlike Aerylle.

"I'm disgusting." Elyszara said, almost inaudibly.

"Hey...hey, c'mon," Min said, still quite uncertain as to how to proceed, tentatively wrapping her hands around the aasimar's waist, "if you're repulsive, I don't sodding know what the rest of this burg is."

"Fuck!" Elyszara snarled, whipping around to bury her face between Min's breasts - the tiefling felt warm tears and breathy sobs against her skin, "Fuck! Fuck! Every fucking Goddess-forsaken cycle I bleed, every fucking day I'm reminded I'm a mortal. I'm not a perfect being of light, just flesh, blood, bone and worse! Ask Cirily how I used to wet the fucking bed because I couldn't stand relieving myself during the day. Everybody says I'm beautiful, but every day this beautiful body betrays me...reminds me every day that one day, I'll die."

With a little hindsight, it was then that Min realised that Aerylle, with all her flaws, was at least, generally speaking, emotionally stable. As far as Min was concerned, she now had nothing but the greatest sympathy for Cirily. Deeper still, however, she knew why Elyszara was confessing her fears with such bluntness. Like Elyszara, Min too was descended from an immortal being whose being was infinitely less fragile and temperamental than a mortal body. The difference was that Min had never met her mother or lived amongst immortal spirits, whether they be angels, eladrin, or demons. Nevertheless, Min's loneliness - that loneliness that drove her to find solace and comfort in fellow outcasts like Verden or Shesayne, was the same as Elyszara's loneliness. As distant as their upbringing and family circumstances had been, there was a part of Min's heart that spoke directly with Elyszara's.

As far back as she could remember, Inge had always been the victim. She had trusted her father with the wide-eyed admiration of any daughter in search of paternal security and seen him dedicate himself entirely to her brothers; she had trusted her mother and seen her, behind the little hole she had surreptitiously drilled into the wall, betray her father with countless, low-born, but well-built boys; she had trusted Ithunn and seen herself made a fool of time and time again. The time for trust and the time for victimhood was over. Henceforth she - Ingeborg, soon to be priestess of the Vigilant Maiden - would seize her own destiny by the reins. That had been the idea. In reality, Inge knew just about everyone else in the Order, paladin or priestess, referred to her as 'cute', 'sweet' or the 'pretty little one'. Such diminutives were patently unfair: she was a woman now, end of story, and certainly not a silly adolescent girl to be Ithunn's plaything.

So the time had come to turn her life around and with that objective in mind, she had made her way down to the Library of Sensation. Even though Ithunn had, for all intents and purposes, left her after the disastrous dinner with Friyya and Syf, it had not all been bad news. A very interesting note had appeared at her customary desk in the Temple library that suggested an in-depth consultation of the Library of Sensation on the topic of Inevitable Forms which, according to the neatly written and almost impossibly eloquent message, accorded the user great transformative power. Inge had been intrigued, especially since this echoed with something she had heard whispered between senior priestesses when they thought she was not listening.

Ithunn had been her dream lover: someone who would have loved and protected her, as well as making her the envy of initiate priestess and novice paladin alike. Ithunn had been the prize which, so very nearly, had been hers, but now, trudging down the cobbled streets in the middle of a cool, windy Sigil day, she felt profoundly alone. The Library of Sensation, she hoped, would bring some comfort as she ascended the polished, marble stairs and passed the great, ornate entrance, with its finely sculpted statues of aesthetically perfect males and females - and sometimes beings in between - into the main reception hall. The Library was labyrinthine: a sprawling mass of shelves stacked high with volumes bound in leather, rolled up in scroll cases, carved onto metal disks and stranger things besides. Silence and that comfortable, familiar musty smell of old paper and parchment filled the air.

"A pleasure to meet you Inge, now please, follow me." With that, Aerylle led Inge to her desk near the very heart of the library, winding her way through the familiar bookshelves. There, in a clearing surrounded by high cabinets made for storing and filing information, was the long, rectangular desk Aerylle shared with her colleague, Lirai, who was, no doubt, out on a re-shelving expedition. That was their private in-joke: referring to any task which involved retrieving or replacing a book as an 'expedition' which, in reality, was usually not far off the mark.

Inge swallowed as she admired the curve of Aerylle's back and the understated, yet clearly feminine curve of her bottom through the loose, beige robe, "The Order of the Radiant Path of the Vigilant Maiden. Shrine Priestess Gallia is my sponsor, should you need any further details."

"Oh, Heavens," Aerylle said with a start, turning to face Inge with beautiful, crystal-clear blue eyes, "that is a pretty ghastly section. Are you certain?"

"You are very kind." Inge said, smiling, as Aerylle indicated the desired shelves and a comfortable desk for her to read at, "If only everyone I knew were as kind as you."

"Oh, Miss, really you flatter me!" Aerylle said, blushing a little, "We have only just met, but I thank you ever so much for the compliment."

"Anything." Inge replied amiably, taking a seat at the desk. The cool leather of the chair felt welcoming under the simple, white, initiate's robe she wore.

"You are prettier than most elves I have seen," Aerylle confessed, gathering up the courage to just graze the silky, sky-blue hair with the lightest of touches, "and very knowledgeable."

"I adore reading about anything and everything." Inge commented, "But now it is you who flatter me, I could only dream of being as perfect as an elf."

"Well, now look how rude of me," Inge said with a sigh, "I must be keeping you up from more important things. I would only have two more favours to ask of you, if that does not sound like too much."

"Naturally."

"And, well, my second favour is more personal," Inge said, a little embarrassed herself, as she turned to face Aerylle, her gorgeous, grey eyes wide and expectant, "I should be back tomorrow and, most probably, for a few days to come and I may well be lonely around mealtimes so perhaps, if you were so inclined, we could take tea together. I am not much of a cook, but I could certainly bring some decent sweet nut-bread."

"Of course, my tr-...uh, Inge," Aerylle said, thankful she had caught her tongue, "I would be honoured to."

Min was a little rough around the edges, but Aerylle, despite all the talk of high-minded intellectual discussion, had been hiding an illustrated elven romantic/erotic - for elves made no distinction between the two - novel under her desk. Indeed, she could not wait to get back, hoping Lirai stayed out a few moments longer: she had just read up to an emotionally charged part where the noble-born sorceress elopes with the beautiful archer she had been adventuring with, despite her mother's objections that the girl was a commoner. That part always made Aerylle weep. She would, as usual, have to tell Lirai it was the dust.

*********

The Styx Boatman was having an especially busy night. Or, as Verden often put it contemptuously, the circus was in town. That was with particular reference to a group of stocky, axe and warhammer wielding minotaurs who were hanging around the main dining area of the tavern. They were from the Sons of Minos gang, as evidenced by the double-headed labrys axe which had been branded into their wide, muscled chests. Doubtless, they were waiting for updates on the movements of the Sons of Apis and, for the umpteenth time, the streets of the Hive would run with minotaur blood as they hacked their bloody feud out with bellows, grunts and assorted bovine cries. Verden was no snob, but the smell was overpowering.

Min, as usual, was stretched out languidly, her eyes turned dreamily towards the ceiling. She had skipped work, but, in the end, it had all been worth it. After Elyszara's had passed her weepy, sentimental phase, she had dived right back into lovemaking. Then there had been more weeping still until Cirily had come to fetch her. Apparently, the inn, as stuffy as it was for Min's tastes, turned out to be one of Elyszara's favourite haunts. In the end, it had all turned out for the best: Min had managed to secure both a good day of lovemaking and a warm bed in which to recover a few hours of sleep.

"You've got to do something 'bout this woman who's tailing you." Said Verden. Now that Aerylle was absent, she at least had the luxury of leaning her head against the tiefling's shoulder without being met with withering glances.

"I will." Min said curtly, "Has she made any new moves?"

"Hmm, Lady Luck save her." Verden said, placing a soft kiss on Min's cheek, "But be careful yourself. I think she's from Civic Security, she could have backup."

"Don't you worry about me." The tiefling said, playfully swatting Verden's lush, firm bottom.

"What the..." Min began, as she too languidly rose to a more collected sitting position to see Aerylle, tastefully dressed in a long, white and gold dress with a nice, low cleavage to emphasise her small, but pert breasts and someone whom she could not quite recognise by the elven librarian's side. Upon closer inspection it was Shesayne, but not as Min knew her. The petite half-elf wore Aerylle's favourite blue evening gown, which was slit down the middle with a set of intricately, tiny silver chains linking the two halves. Her straight, raven-black hair had been let down so that the tips almost reached her shoulders and she had substituted her usual low-cut boots with flimsy looking blue silk sandals.

"Hey, girls, like the brand-new, all-improved Shesayne?" The petite half-elf said, a little self-consciously. The moment she had returned from work, Aerylle had been fussed over her, making her try outfit after outfit before finally selecting the blue evening gown and then proceeding to ensure that Shesayne looked her absolute best. It had worked, and now the half-elf noticed that even most elves took her for one of their own. In terms of dress and appearance, she blended in perfectly, though her mannerisms remained just a little too much on the impish side.

"Well, well, well," Verden said, a wry smile on her lips as rose to embrace Shesayne and kiss her on the lips, "aren't you the high-up one now. You're absolutely sodding lovely. Looks like the surprises never end these days. I'd love to just try something like that one of these days, though I'm guessing I'd probably strain the fabric 'round the top."

"Elven?" Shesayne interrupted, causing Verden to chuckle softly at the irony of someone who had spent much of her life doing her utmost to subvert elven aesthetics finally sending up all the whole thing in such grand style.

"Min, I suspect you ought to tell Shesayne she looks wonderful tonight." Aerylle said sharply with that reprimanding, elder-sister voice the tiefling loathed.

"You're...uh, mesmerising." Min was losing the battle. Doubtless, she would soon find Verden clad in a tasteful pink satin dress and then Aerylle's dark plan would have come to fruition, and Min would be left with no other option other than submitting to an endless succession of tea parties, flower arrangement and hair-brushing sessions.

"You certainly are." Aerylle said with an approving nod, "So, what's the occasion?" She queried, looking at Min and Verden in turn.

"What she means," Min clarified, "is that we have been followed and spied on by some time. Which means that it's high time I start dealing with this. She can watch all she wants, but if this involves you or Shesayne, then this mystery woman'll have to go through me first."

"No use: it's empty breath, wasted threats and a lost cause when her mind's set on something," Shesayne interrupted knowingly, "you just have to play along and help the best you can." Verden nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Well..."

"Princess." Verden sniggered under her breath.

Aerylle overheard and shot Verden a withering glance, before deciding to proceed to more important matters, "Well please, please be careful," Aerylle said, knowing how stubborn the tiefling could be, "that and try to go to work tomorrow, Shesayne told me that your supervisor will dismiss you if your absenteeism continues at this rate. As romantic as it would be for me to support you on my meagre librarian's income, we should avoid it if possible."

"Quite," said Aerylle, quickly interrupting to change the subject - talk of drow was more than enough to unnerve her, "so perhaps I can buy the first round. What are your preferences?"

It was well after darkfall when Inge finally made her way back to Quarters. She did not have to worry about curfew, since her official dispensation allowed her far more flexible hours than the other initiates. Gallia had been pleased to grant her star student particularly generous treatment, principally because she was certain that Inge, of all the trainee priestesses, was by far the least likely to get herself into any sort of trouble or succumb to the temptations of the outside world. The Temple Ward was well illuminated by night, with a few priests, primarily of goddesses and gods who preferred night-time worship, making their way around the almost deserted streets.

"I...I have dispensation." Inge began, fumbling through her leather travelling satchel where she kept her notes for the signed authorisation.

"Is everything all right, Sister? You seem saddened." Inge said, stepping closer.

"Sorry to hear that. It probably wouldn't help if I said I understood you, would it?" Marséna said wryly, opening the tastefully carved wooden door to quarters and holding it open for Inge.

"I suppose we all have our sentimental problems and I certainly would not want to burden you with mine." Inge replied modestly, nodding in thanks as she passed into the shadowy penumbra of the entrance hall to the Quarters building. A long, spiralling staircase led upwards into the paladin's quarters and the novice's dormitory, while a secondary wing led to the side where the priestesses and the initiates slept.

"No bother. We all fuck up. Me more often than most, but I guess I have to live with myself, right?" Marséna said ruefully, before remembering, belatedly, that she was in the presence of an initiate priestess, "Oh, yeah, sorry about the language, Virg has always been on my case for that, but, hey, what are you going to do: you can take a girl out of the countryside, but you can't take the..."

"Although I would prefer it if you did not use such strong terms in my presence," Inge said, smiling sweetly, her sad, sweet grey eyes fixed directly into the soulful, brown pools of Marséna's, "sincerity of expression is a very much under-appreciated virtue."

"Yeah, I know Syf does."

"What about you, Sister?" Inge probed.

"Marséna...always Marséna, and...well, it depends, but yeah, I suppose a bookish woman has her charm."

"That's comforting to hear, especially from an esteemed paladin such as yourself."

Marséna smiled awkwardly at Inge's flattery, "Thanks...anyway, I'm probably holding you up and..."

"Inge..." Marséna began, quite unsure as to what exactly she was meant to do under such circumstances.

"Do you not find me pretty?" The trainee priestess inquired softly, her voice almost trembling, her wide, grey eyes brimming with disappointment.

"No, Marséna, I want this, if you want it too, then my love is yours." Inge said fervently.

"Teach me..." Inge begged, blushing in both desire and embarrassment, "you have seen how...inexpert I am, please teach me."

"Now feel what I do." Marséna said, before beginning to lap with hungry precision at the inner lips of Inge's sex. There was simply no way to describe it: Inge would have to experience it for herself. With consummate passion, her tongue slid in hungry, asymmetric arcs, teasing the lust-inflamed, moist nether flesh for its most sensitive spots, before settling on what she knew would make Inge ask where Marséna had been all her life. Focusing short, firm licks on Inge's tiny, stiff little clit, Marséna began to work a single finger into the initiate's sex. She was tight, but very aroused, so that her fragrant slickness eased the passage of the paladin's tensed finger. Inge mewled with pleasure and felt her hips buck at the contractions that were beginning deep within her sex. It was more than a little embarrassing to feel her climax so soon, but she was, simply put, unused to a woman of such vast experience and such beauty as Marséna. Even with Ithunn, her orgasms had never taken long because of her over-active intellect reminding her with each fevered beat of her heart how she was the centre of attention for one of the most beautiful women in the Order.

"Marséna..." Inge said softly, interrupting the paladin's reminiscence, "perhaps you would allow me to return your kindness."

"Of course..." Marséna replied, collecting herself as she helped Inge off the table and led the initiate to her room, "if there's anything you're curious about, now's the time to ask."

That night Inge made many discoveries. She discovered the sublime, breathtaking curves of Marséna's body, the goddess-like, tanned globes of the paladin's bottom - so firm and perfect they looked like something out of a sculpture. She discovered the sun-kissed, iodine skin of Marséna's body, the cafe-au-lait delight of her nipples and the soft, wonderfully feminine treasure nestled between her legs under a canopy of raven-black curls. There, Inge drank thirstily from the velvety nether lips, indulging in the rich taste of womanhood. Marséna, the patient teacher, guided her, showing her where to touch, lick and caress. But Inge's journey did not end there, for even as she finally brought the Mareterran paladin to a slow-burning, but satisfying orgasm, she had still more questions.

With painful shyness, Inge had complimented Marséna's bottom for being divine and the paladin had smiled knowingly and languidly turned around so that she was on her hands and knees, informing the fascinated young priestess that it, too, could be the source of great pleasure if properly attended to. So Inge, hesitantly at first and then with almost wanton eagerness, had discovered that dark, musky valley between the perfect globes of Marséna's bottom, discovering the joys of coaxing the tightly-knotted, earthy rosebud of muscle hidden deep in that mystical rift. But best of all, in darkness illuminated only by a solitary lamp, Inge discovered the joys of working her well-oiled, slender hand, fractions of an inch at the time, with slow, consummate patience as befitted her character, deep into Marséna's juicing sex. That act of profound intimacy had allowed Inge to discover a brand new world of sensation - to push the limits of her erotic understanding, happy in the knowledge that she had made Marséna, renowned in the Order for her skills with the blade and for her wild passions, cry out in ecstasy as she was touched in her most secret spot, deep in the recesses of her sex.

They only found sleep as daybreak was stirring in a dark blue Sigil sky. Marséna did not feel Inge in her arms as she surrendered herself to the empire of dreams, but an adolescent Virginia, her face still girlish - or, as Marséna teased, 'like a pixie' - and flushed with desire as she said, "we just have to do that again...". Inge's dreams were more fantastic still, for she saw herself making passionate love to Aerylle on the librarian's desk, her mouth cloyed with the sweetness of the nectar of elven arousal. The funny thing was, however, that Inge did not recall dogs - least of all very large, menacing black-and-tan specimens - being allowed in the Library of Sensation.