"Sooner be bonded to a Nereid, whose touch caresses and cools, but who flows away where the currents take her; sooner love a sylph, whose kisses are gentle and whose breasts are soft as cloud, but who drifts away like the Sun on an early Spring day."

- An Elven mother, warning her daughter on impossible love (traditional)

"Hold still!" Aerylle chided, carefully applying sparkling, golden honey-dust with a griffin-down brush to the shallow valley between Shesayne's pert, nicely rounded breasts. The pretty little half-elf sat naked on Aerylle's plush, indulgently soft bed while the grey elven librarian applied judicious quantities of the shimmering cosmetic. Shesayne had been squirming with excitement all evening since returning from work and now, curled up on the pristine, white sheets, an oblong silver mirror in hand, she admired Aerylle's handiwork: as with all their art, elven body aesthetics were delicate and rarefied, so that only the lightest hints of blush, gloss and colour were applied in order to draw subtle attention to, rather than mask one's natural assets. In this case, the honey dust would provide Shesayne's lightly tanned skin with the most tasteful sparkle which could provocatively be activated by certain types of firelight and magical illumination. Thus, in the soft, reddish glow from the magical flower vase which had been Astrid's gift to Shesayne, the half-elf looked positively radiant.

"So, what d'you think I should do with my hair: up, down or just shave it all off?" Shesayne joked. Aerylle had been fussing over her in the most reassuringly affectionate way and had even gone so far as to borrow a book from the Library of Sensation with extensive disquisitions on how to prepare a lady for any and all occasions. Shesayne's night out with Astrid, Aerylle decided, was going to be memorable, if only because the half-elf deserved it. She had suffered much as a result of her acrimonious quarrel with Marsé na and Aerylle was convinced that it was vital for Shesayne's emotional recovery to meet someone who would make her feel loved and desired.

"Oh...you!" the grey elf sighed, affecting sisterly disapproval, "You know what my opinion is on that subject: an elven lady never prominently displays her ears, just as they should always be modest with their breasts..."

"What about wood elves?" Shesayne interjected playfully, giggling suggestively at the sensation of Aerylle's brush grazing over her cherry-red nipples, "You really, really couldn't say that they're shy or hung up 'bout their tits, don't blame them either...d'you ever see Verden's, I mean up close...?"

"Shesayne...please!" Aerylle groaned. She finished applying the honey dust and closed the elegant silver coffer in which she stored the precious substance, "In any case, wood elves prefer a more naturalistic style, in keeping with their forest homes..."

"Maybe I do too." The half-elf interrupted smugly, cocking her head slightly to one side to allow Aerylle to smooth out a few errant strands of her charcoal-black hair with a fine silver and mother-of-pearl rimmed brush.

"All right, all right...so would you prefer your hair up or down? And now that I think of it, please mind your language, you would not want to put Astrid off now, would you?" It was an awfully patronising thing to say, but Aerylle felt personally responsible for Shesayne's development as a respectable elven lady - whether Shesayne liked it or not.

"Let's say..." Shesayne began, pretending to think, "up, so I can show off my wonderful, top-shelf dragon-turtle comb."

"As you wish." The elven maiden concluded wearily. With a few deft brushes, she raised Shesayne's short hair up into two manageable strands and bound them together with the finely-crafted dragon-turtle comb which was the half-elf's most prized possession. It hurt Aerylle's sense of propriety to see Shesayne's pointed ears so shamelessly revealed, but she had made a conscious decision to make a genuine effort to adapt to Sigil life. Tolerating Shesayne's eccentricities was an indispensable part of that process, "As for clothing, what were you intending on wearing?" Aerylle dreaded the answer she knew was coming.

"Say something that's nice but not too show-offy and comfortable too...how 'bout the red skirt and the dragon scale-pattern top?"

"And over that?" Aerylle retorted - she was not normally a sarcastic person, but when Shesayne said "skirt" and "top" she was really referring to two handkerchiefs of red elven fabric which, as far as the grey elf was concerned, were more something for the bedchamber than an evening on the town.

"Just give me a teeny-tiny moment and I'll show you just how this works and brings out all the best in me." Shesayne chirped. She skipped off the bed and quickly made her way to Aerylle's dresser where she opened the drawer she had borrowed to store her wardrobe: one drawer had, much to the elven librarian's dismay, turned out to be more than enough to hold Shesayne's collection of imaginatively provocative subversion of elven fabrics. The half-elf extracted two flimsy pieces of thin, red fabric and set about dressing before the long, oval mirror by the side of the dresser. When she was finally satisfied that everything was in place, she turned to face Aerylle, striking a dramatic, demonstrative pose. The grey elf drew a deep breath and ran her expert eye over Shesayne: there was taste somewhere under the brash sensuality, for the form-fitting dragon-scale patterned bandeau top seemed just enough to frame Shesayne's taut, flat abdomen whilst fluidly drawing attention to her elegant breasts, while the skirt, scandalously short as it was, intuitively draped over half of her right thigh, with the fabric proceeding upwards in a sharp diagonal until it melded into waist, leaving most of the left thigh exposed and just enough fabric to preserve the half-elf's modesty, "So what does my sweet, lovely Aerylle think?" Shesayne said, beaming her sweetest, most expectant smile.

Aerylle sighed in resignation. Shesayne had an adorable impishness which was simply too charming to resist, "I suppose it works well with your figure, my dear, but maybe you should wear something under your skirt..."

"Oh no you don't!" The half-elven girl interjected, hands firmly on her hips, "First of all and most importantly, it'll look like Tarterus on a bad day if I wear those awful white elven udergarments and some of it shows through - my cycle's not due for another seven days you know so there’s no need for those - and second of all, I really want to see the look on her face when she first touches me under my skirt." Shesayne smiled playfully and proceeded to select a pair of red, imitation-dragon leather ankle boots with just enough heel to bring out the flawless curve of her pert, rounded bottom.

There was simply no way to evade the facts: Shesayne would be Shesayne even if the Multiverse were to come to an end. So Aerylle made the most of it and rose to embrace her friend, planting a soft kiss on her lips, "Either way, you look absolute lovely." She whispered. Aerylle had decided that it was far important to be happy for Shesayne than to constantly reprimand her quirky but profoundly original aesthetic. As a half-elf, she had to reinvent her identity and had done so in a manner with which she felt comfortable so that Aerylle, ultimately, felt that she was in no position to judge.

For once, Shesayne did not answer, but simply held Aerylle tight, leaning her head against the elven maiden's shoulder, just close enough to smell the sweetly subtle natural aroma of her pale skin. They stood there silently, listening to the soft rhythm of their breathing, feeling the warmth of their bodies as Shesayne gently ran her fingers through Aerylle's long, golden blonde tresses. An enormous weight had been lifted from the petite half-elf's heart: she no longer felt in any way condemned or patronised by Aerylle. The grey elf's statement of approval was a vindication: finally an elf, and one with taste and education as well, was happy with her being the way she was simply on her own merits.

"I love you, Aerylle." Shesayne breathed, almost inaudibly. It was frightfully embarrassing, but she had to say it, if only because Lady Luck was a fickle mistress; she may not have had the chance to say it again.

Aerylle smiled and gently kissed the half-elf's fragrant, raven-black hair, "I must confess you are making me feel guilty." She joked, "I should have been the first to say that; you are as a sister to me and much more still. You have made my humble house into a home."

"Enough now," Shesayne said, her voice choked with emotion, "we'll have a nice, weepy sisterly cuddle when I come back 'cause right now I'm bound to ruin all the honey dust on my face if we go on like this."

"Right you are, my sweet treasure..." Said Aerylle, smiling warmly, before being interrupted by her bedchamber door swinging open.

"You two started without me? I never knew my favourite girls could be so naughty." Min said, grinning wolfishly. She had already changed into her transparent red silk dressing-gown which, as always, she wore unfastened, so that the fabric spilled around her shoulders like a cloak, leaving the taut, lithe musculature of her body and her fine, firm breasts in open view. In one hand she held an indulgently large slice of the savoury dandelion pie Aerylle had cooked the preceding evening from which she took intermittent, hungry bites.

"Welcome back," Aerylle said with some irritation - Min had a knack for ruining emotionally-charged moments, "and where, may I ask, were you yesterday? Shesayne and I were very much looking forward to having a nice dinner for the three of us."

"Yeah, look, princess, we've got to talk 'bout that." Min began evasively, quickly consuming the remained of the slice of pie and sucking the residue of the herby filling from her fingers.

"No doubt we do." The elven maiden admonished sternly, "Oh, and next time, do get a plate. Do you know what happens when you leave crumbs around in Sigil...?"

"Ease up, relax and calm down, Aerylle." Shesayne chimed, eager to prevent an unnecessary squabble between Min and Aerylle. She detested it when people she loved quarrelled, "Now why don't you walk me to the door like a good elven sister and then I can finally leave you and Min to have some hot and wet quality time together."

"I like the way she thinks." Min said, her vivid orange eyes seemingly alight with playful malice, "Something tells me that tonight an elven princess is going to be kidnapped by a wicked tiefling."

"Oh, wow, that sounds good," Shesayne enthused, happy to play along with Min's suggestive little games, "I better leave you two to it."

"We shall see what mood the elven princess is in." Aerylle retorted, taking Shesayne's delicate hand into her own and leading her, as was elven custom, to the door of her apartment. Min watched them, her arms casually crossed beneath her bare breasts. Even clad in her simple, cream-coloured librarian's robe, Aerylle was magnificent. She had the natural grace of an elven noblewoman: so effortlessly beautiful that even a little haughtiness could be excused, for it was only natural if it came from a being of such slender, delicate perfection.

"Nice vase, by the way," Min called, following Aerylle and Shesayne into the small living area in front of the apartment's entrance, "Astrid always had a good eye."

"Which is why she asked me out." Shesayne declared triumphantly, "Oh yeah, and by the way Min, I forgot to ask at work, but since you and Astrid had a really fun-packed day together, d'you happen to know if she'll like me dressed like this?"

"Like I said," Min shrugged, "she's a little strange, but all of those mages and wizards are, so I wouldn't pay it any mind. But, as far as I can see, you look like a top-shelf cutter - plus, if you're going to the Ivory Tower tavern, you'd likely almost be overdressed, d'you ever see what some of those sorceresses wear?"

"Estrella!" Min and Shesayne said simultaneously, as if on cue, before dissolving in a fit of laughter.

"Who would this Estrella be?" Aerylle inquired as soon as Shesayne recovered from her fit of giggling.

"A really, really long story and I promise, swear and vow I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, let's just say you can do some amazing things with a telekinesis spell and a couple of silk scarves."

"Right," Aerylle began, affectionately resting her hands on Shesayne's shoulders, "so have a wonderful time and, remember, do not let anything happen unless you absolutely want it to."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry 'bout that," Shesayne said with a knowing grin, "thanks for all the help. I'll probably see you tomorrow morning...don't wait up." With that, Shesayne kissed Aerylle on the cheek and breezed out into the landing and down the stairs. Aerylle waited at the door until she could no longer hear the soft tapping of Shesayne's boots before closing it behind her and turning to face Min. The tiefling had already cut herself a second large slice of pie and was in the process of wolfing it down, all the while never shifting her observant gaze from Aerylle.

"I am glad that you like my cooking," Aerylle began, more tolerantly this time - she was determined to make her arrangement with Min and Shesayne work and that meant being especially tolerant of the tiefling's innate love of chaos, "but, we are going to lay the table, sit down and dine together in peace like any decent couple would." Tolerance, naturally, had its limits, "Then, if you are good girl, you may just find your elven princess ready to make up for lost time." Min, Aerylle had noted, could always be made more compliant with a few good incentives.

***

Shesayne skipped out into the cool, humid Sigil night. The heels of her boots clashed gently with the flagstones, already damp with the evening drizzle that had coated them in smoky, grey droplets of water. The Clerk's Ward was so much more genteel that then little half-elf's native Hive Ward, but it seemed so much more dead. In the distance, a few robed officials from the Law Courts made their way back to their respective apartments, secreted somewhere in the long, relatively neat rows of tall buildings. The area had always struck Shesayne as far too bourgeois for her tastes, but it had its benefits - most of all, it was safer, so much so that she felt at ease walking out 'stylishly dressed', as she euphemistically put it, without Min's watchful protection. In the Hive, those who did anything to upset Shesayne normally encountered the business end of one of the tiefling's daggers pointed at their throat before they could even see it, followed by a stern, yet oddly seductive warning. Second time offenders were often not that lucky.

Pausing a moment by a stern, tower-like building of stone-blackened brick, Shesayne sought to find her bearings. She knew the Ivory Tower, a tavern normally frequented by wizards and sorcerers of all persuasions, because it had been one of Min's favourite hangouts before they had discovered the Styx Boatman. Back then, neither could afford drinks at such a comparatively upmarket locale, so Min would take the occasion to flirt with any and all sorceresses, enchantresses and assorted lady-mages who caught her eye, with the standing condition that they had to buy rounds for Shesayne as well. The half-elf could not recall a single occasion in which the offer had been declined and, by the end of the evening, most ended up smiling knowingly as Min ran her dextrous fingers through their hair or down their thighs, as they prepared any of the innumerable variants of the basic phrase "by the way, my place is just around the corner..." that Shesayne had heard. Some of them were even kind enough to say that "your little friend is welcome too" or something to that effect which, much to Shesayne's joy, usually meant spending a night in a huge, soft bed with warm covers and a big breakfast in the morning. Magic-users were, on the whole, very wealthy - one would have to be to dedicate years to study and little else.

"Hey! Shesayne!" A playful, feminine voice whispered and the half-elf whipped around to face the speaker.

"You're Astrid, right?" Shesayne said with a relieved smile as soon as her gaze focused on a svelte and very pretty young woman whom the half-elf guessed must have been human. She was fine-featured and not much taller than Shesayne herself, with a charming, youthful face that bore a light sprinkling of freckles and riveting, almost hypnotic blue eyes. Most strikingly, her hair was dyed a deep blue, so much so that it was almost violet, and cut in a rather boyish bob. She was none the less alluring for it and complemented her graceful physique with a sleeveless white satin blouse, form-fitting navy blue leggings cut off, much to Shesayne's approval, only a few inches below the waist, and high black leather boots.

"Guilty as charged," Astrid said, taking a moment to look Shesayne over, "you never struck me as the pensive type, no offence, but I'm curious, what were you thinking of?"

"Min said you were strange," Shesayne said as she approached Astrid to greet her with an embrace, "but if you really eager to know and can't wait 'till we get into a tavern, I was thinking of the good times Min and me had at the Ivory Tower. It's nice to think 'bout the past when life's changing all 'round you so quickly you can't pause for a moment, 'else life leaves you behind and Lady Luck tells you you're fucked."

"I like your line of reasoning," Astrid commented - she had a natural enthusiasm about her and it was not intensity, but an effervescent joie de vivre, as if everything that surrounded her was to be taken lightly and therefore amusing, "and who am I to dispute a line of reasoning like that from someone as absolutely adorable as you...look at you! What a wonderfully original take on elven fabrics and, of course, what a wonderful little half-elf." The human girl's fingers ran enthusiastically down Shesayne's flanks, feeling the contrast of soft, satiny fabric and smooth, bare skin, "You don't mind do you? I mean, I'm girl, so I'm allowed to touch. But then that's a double standard, no?"

Shesayne could only smile in wonder. She was flattered beyond belief, but there seemed to be a joyous irreverence in Astrid's thoughts, as if everything were jumbled together in an odd but brilliant mind and just spat out as quickly as it was thought up, "Oh, thanks, thanks and more thanks. You're first-rate cute yourself and yeah, since you've been so nice 'bout my dress, I'm happy and honoured for you to touch it."

"Cute?" Astrid said, cocking her head to one side in mock disapproval, "Is that all I get? Anyways, I thought I'd come get you because, you know, it's a bit strange to ask a sweet girl out and then leave her to walk all the way to the tavern alone. I mean, how ill-mannered can you get? So here I am...by the way, did you like the gift?"

"It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever given me, almost as nice as this dragon-turtle comb Min gave me to steal a kiss."

"Pleasure to be of service." Astrid said, genuinely pleased to see Shesayne smile so broadly, "But it's getting cold with us standing like this. Do you want to go to the Ivory Tower?"

"Sure, that was the invitation, idea and plan anyways."

"Well then, my dear, follow me."

Astrid wound her way expertly through the anonymous, seemingly indistinguishable streets of the Clerk's Ward. The greatest concentration of sorcerous academies, private towers and magical libraries was concentrated in the so-called Quarter of Arcana near the Lady's Ward. There life never stopped and, as Shesayne and Astrid approached a busy street - taverns and perpetually open shops illuminated by garish displays of magical light and by floating, prismatic spheres, the atmosphere seemed to become ever livelier. There were any number of races that preferred nocturnal rhythms of life, so much so that it was safe to say that the magic-user's district never slept, but merely shifted from a preponderance of human and surface elven faces to a more sinister, but no less vital contingent of drow, derro, serpent-like yuan-ti and other assorted denizens of the darkness. None of these beings, however, generated any fear in Shesayne - for she had grown up amidst creatures, Min included, that were all too readily dismissed as unsavoury or wicked without a second thought. As far as Shesayne was concerned, however, even the brutish minotaurs who charged, snorting, up the darkened streets within earshot of her mother's apartment in the Hive, could be amusing company - as long as one stayed downwind from them.

"I take it you've been to the Ivory Tower before." Astrid noted, taking Shesayne's hand into her own. She generally disliked being too assertive, but she had asked the half-elf out for a romantic outing, so she could hardly be remiss and neglect her duties as the host.

"Yeah, loads of times with Min...but I'm sure she told you all there was to know 'bout it. It's been some time since we last visited, y'know." The half-elf replied, all too happy to take Astrid's hand.

"Why? I find it such a wonderfully convivial place." They made their way down a narrow street of densely-packed scroll emporiums, each a bookshop in its own right, over-stuffed with faded parchment, beaten leaves of papyrus and more commercial paper-based texts. At the far end of the road was a tall, thin and classically ominous Sigil tower-building which, however, had been shrouded in a permanent illusion spell, so that it gave the impression of being a tower seemingly crafted of the finest, whitest ivory in lines so pure and perfect that it would have put many elven architects to shame.

"Min had a fight with an uptight and pretty drunk sorceress. She called Min a cheap tiefling whore and that really got Min going, 'cause she's like that, Min: has hard as things got when she was little and before she got really, super-good at thieving, she never, ever, ever even thought of begging or selling herself. Her pride just wouldn't let her swallow that kind of leatherheaded screed and I tried to stop her, saying that everyone knew that the sorceress was drunk and out of her mind and that it wasn't worth it. But Min just pounced - quick as a flash - and landed right on top of the sorceress with her daggers all gleaming in the firelight and said," here Shesayne did her best to imitate Min's languid, enigmatically seductive drawl, "say that again, cunt - just like I fuck who I want, I put anyone I want in the dead-book."

"I guess that would have been the end of her welcome at the Tower." Astrid never ceased to be impressed by Min's headstrong determination to ensure that, in her little corner of the Multiverse, everything went exactly her way. She led Shesayne into the Ivory Tower's wide, brightly lit dining room. A large, rectangular bar attended to by tall, thin four-armed insectoid beings with bulbous, composite eyes lay at the centre of the chamber, while large, well-distanced tables were already filling up for the dinner-time shift. As the name suggested, the Ivory Tower was spread out on multiple floors and its main well was hollowed out, so that one could see a series of floors extending upwards from the main dining hall. Suspended halfway between the ground floor and the tower's very peak was a levitating platform of force upon which a voluptuous, red-haired harpist played a mournful tune accompanied by the lilting hum of her own sonorous voice. Service was attended to by fluttering mephits - small, winged imp-like beings composed of the fundamental elements of creation ranging from the standard fire, earth, air and water to some truly esoteric specimens composed entirely of magma or electricity.

"Just the way I remember it." Shesayne remarked with satisfaction, "Say, why don't we get ourselves a private couch upstairs? There's a little too much chattering, rattling and hubbub here for a nice conversation."

"As my lovely Shesayne wishes," said Astrid, indicating her wishes to a bald, well-muscled and bare-chested waiter; although he looked like a sturdily built human, he was really a magically animated automaton, carved entirely out of smooth sandstone, "the closer to the top the better. I like to look out and see Sigil flow around me."

The powerfully-built automaton led them up several flights of stairs, through a seemingly endless procession of intimate dinners, private parties and social drinks shared between practitioners of the arcane arts who sometimes appeared as though they did not need to frequent a tavern at all. Half of one floor was occupied by a noble gold dragon, its vast, platinum-hard coils shifting restlessly between tables as it engaged in heated debate in an unimaginably ancient language with an undead lich so decayed that all that remained was a floating, jewel-encrusted skull surrounded by a pulsing nimbus of red light. By the time they reached their allotted place, Shesayne was asking herself why she had ever left such a compellingly fascinating locale. Now, she resolved to relive the experience as best she could.

"Superb!" The petite half-elf crowed the moment she saw the pleasant, quiet little corner which had been prepared for her and Astrid: an expanse of plump, multi-chrome cushions was arranged on a carpeted floor, whose pattern shifted magically at regular intervals, with a low table upon which a perpetually glowing, floating light had been set. Such plush comfort was simply too tempting and Shesayne was the first to let herself fall, with careless aplomb, onto the invitingly soft surface of the cushions where she reclined, legs coyly crossed, knowing full well that Astrid's admiring eyes were upon her.

"And what were you interested in drinking?" Astrid queried, a crooked smile spreading across her pink lips as she contemplated Shesayne's wiry, irresistible form. There was simply so much energy in those slender limbs that could be unleashed in such creative ways.

"Surprise, amaze and enlighten me." Shesayne suggested, staring curiously at the skylight-dome of the tower. In the distance, tiny points of light from the opposite side of Sigil's great wheel were clearly visible.

"A bottle of Glacial Blue Wine, then," Astrid called out to a serving automaton and the silently efficient being nodded in acknowledgement and moved obediently to comply, "it's made by the elves of Alfheim on the Plane of Ysgard and naturally keeps itself at water's freezing point, but since it contains alcohol, it never quite freezes over."

"You remind me of Aerylle when you describe things like that." Shesayne mused while Astrid casually threw herself on the cushions by the half-elf's side.

"Well, if you ever find me boring, tell me. I can be boring because sometimes I just assume what interests me interests everyone else and that clearly isn't the case. But I just find elves fascinating: everything about them is so effortlessly beautiful, elegant and magical. When I first started studying magic, I just wanted to know the elven way of life better and that just isn't separable from sorcery."

"That's what Aerylle said - she used to be a Diviner, y'know, those wizards who know what's going on by reading the signs, the weather, the voice of the forest and all that other stuff. But now, she's far from the source of her magic and spends most of her time learning clairsentience spells to keep the Library in order...I bet you know a lot about libraries so, come to think of it, it's strange that you'd ask me out. I can just barely read those news-sheets they give out at the Hall of Records."

"Now don't misunderstand me, because that's the problem with this city, misunderstanding. So many languages and you don't know what the fuck's going on, right, even if you're speaking in Sigil common, because you're still thinking in your native language and so the words never quite come out the way you want them to. So, like I was saying, I'm not much of a wizard - I'm more a woman of many talents, though I did put myself through quite a lot of wizard's training, even if I didn't have a copper piece in my pocket most of the time."

"You do a lot of thieving too?" Shesayne inquired, warming to Astrid's irreverent, pleasantly spontaneous style with each passing moment.

"No, they'd probably have caught me in an instant, but I did do a lot of tinkering, both with machines and with magical items, for those who needed it. Now that I think of it, I should've charged more, but back then I was desperate. Fuck, I'm still desperate now, that's a week's wages I'm sinking into this evening, though it's a pleasure, because I'm with you." There was no malice or innuendo whatsoever in Astrid's voice, because she spoke as if everything she said was perfectly rational and honest, as if, right from the outset, she had nothing to hide from Shesayne.

"Yeah, I guess it's turning out to be a really good outing - but I'd guessed as much, since your gift told me that you'd be a woman with many talents and lots and lots of taste," Shesayne tentatively ran her fingers through Astrid's short, deep blue hair, "nice colour, why d'you choose it?"

"I had a fling with a Star Elf from a world where her people lived in castles made of ice and tended to gardens of icicles and evergreens. I always thought she was so beautiful it hurt, with her snow-white skin and blue eyes and hair. So when I grew tired of my braids - yeah, you heard me, long blonde fucking braids - I thought why not give this a whirl."

"What happened to the Star Elf?"

"She was as boring as she was beautiful." Astrid replied curtly, "But you're a rare one, you keep me interested."

Shesayne laughed softly, "I'd love to see you with braids again, you must have been the sweetest thing, plus with blonde hair you'd remind me of someone I know..."

"Fuck you," the human mage interrupted jovially, "but for you, I could consider doing it. That's a good sign, mind you - when I'm willing to do something stupid for a girl, then, logically enough, it means I'm starting to like her."

The half-elf nodded gratefully and made shifted closer to Astrid, tentatively resting her head on the human girl's breast and curling up so she could drape her arm over her host's waist. Wordlessly, Astrid wrapped an arm around Shesayne's shoulder, her fingers gently caressing the silky surface of the half-elf's hair, "This doesn't mean I'm easy..." Shesayne began, a little defensively.

"I know," Astrid replied amiably, "you just like a cuddle and need to feel treasured. I do too, but sometimes it's hard when you do your best not to have to depend on anyone, so I'm always stuck: which do I choose, love or freedom?"

"Ask Min," Shesayne replied, nestling her head close to Astrid's soft breasts - the human girl's perfume had the soft aroma of a clean spring mist, "with me, you can have both."

Astrid, who knew it would never be so simple, smiled at Shesayne's attempt to assuage her troubled emotions - but they had always been troubled, so it was no use taking it all out on Shesayne. Instead, as soon as the sapphire-blue Glacial Wine arrived, they settled into a familiar pattern of conversation about their respective lives and dreams. Shesayne complained about the monotony and sheer unpleasantness of her work at the retrievals agency and noted how she was progressively growing tired of shifting artefacts of unnatural evil and bringing them into her company's headquarters for disposal, risking her life for a few hundred Sigil marks a week.

Astrid was, as always, more elliptical in her account: she worked as a freelance mage and private investigator, what she liked to call the "watcher of the watchmen". Ever since she had left a minor school of wizardry run by a shifty, bearded gnome, she had been in the service of several citizen's associations who monitored the excesses of Sigil's heavy-handed Civic Security. Shesayne could only nod in acknowledgement at Astrid's account of how 'security operations' could turn into massacres - the half-elf had heard many such rumours in the Hive and had witnessed episodes of deliberate brutality herself. Throughout it all, however, Astrid spoke with such a fresh eccentricity that Shesayne found her profoundly intriguing as well as mysterious: it was if she enjoyed life for its own sake.

So the evening progressed between sips of ice-cold, but wondrously refreshing Glacial Wine and a large plate of assorted elven pastries Astrid had insisted on ordering until the dinner shift ended and the diners downstairs began to drift out, only to be followed by late-night drinkers and music enthusiasts flocking for the after-dinner concert. Shesayne had grown comfortable in Astrid's embrace, for there was genuine and unforced affection in the human girl's caresses and in the casual compliments she paid Shesayne at every opportunity.

"Astrid...?" Shesayne whispered, her mind lightly fogged by the alcohol and the soporific effect of the harpist's melancholy strumming.

"Yes, my rare beauty."

Shesayne chuckled, "D'you ever, y'know, ever have a serious, long-term thing with an elf, 'cause, as you'll probably have guessed, most elves and me don't see eye-to-eye and I just didn't want you to get the impression that I was just another one of them. I s'pose I just don't want you to be disappointed..."

"No, my sweet, I don't think I could ever be disappointed with you. Which is why I wanted to spend time with you, because we can talk and not go through the social show of talking. When I speak, a lot of people don't even bother to listen because they assume I don't make sense. But you don't care if I sound like I'm making sense, you know I'm making sense because you can feel me. You spent all night listening to my heartbeat, feeling the rhythm of my fingers through your hair or down your arm, just like I watched you breathe, smile and laugh and that's how we understand that what we say makes sense." Astrid knew she did not have to make herself clearer than that. She knew they understood each other.

"So, what do you understand 'bout me?" Shesayne challenged playfully.

"You're a lovely, sensitive girl, you cannot hate, but are sometimes bitter because some won't let you love. You're like me - you only wished people would understand that to be, you need to be your own woman and not Min's, not Aerylle's and not your mother's." Astrid drained her last sip of Glacial Wine from the tall, fluted glass in which it was served. The harpist had begun yet another mournful tune while the management had turned the bright lights of the dinner service down to a more agreeable, suffused glow.

"Hmm...that's me, I guess," Shesayne purred, finally taking the gambit as she cupped Astrid's chin, gently drawing the human girl's face closer, "maybe you'd like to know me just a little better..."

Astrid's mesmerising, blue eyes appeared to light up at the proposal, so she sank lower her lips brushing gently against Shesayne's, so close she could feel the sweet warmth of the half-elf's breath. It was then that Shesayne lunged, her lips fierce and loving against Astrid, so that the mage had no alternative but to part her lips and wind her tongue in the most sensuous of dances with the half-elf's. Shesayne cradled Astrid's face in her hand as she steadied herself, rising to her hands and knees so that she could better sink into the kiss. Astrid felt her heart begin to hammer passionately in her chest - Shesayne had made something spark in her so that now she was kissing the breath out of the little half-elf's soul, her mind lost in an ocean of wet, yielding softness. Tentatively, the human girl's hands traced the taut contours of Shesayne's sides, trailing up the thin expanse of fabric above the half-elf's abdomen. The feather-like touch of Astrid's expert fingers drew the lightest of sighs from Shesayne's parted lips which were swiftly recaptured by the mage's deep, needy kiss.

"They'll probably throw us out if we keep at this in here," Astrid whispered breathlessly, "how about we find a nice quiet corner?"

"Like a storage closet...I feel like I'm at school again." Shesayne teased, smiling conspiratorially as she felt Astrid's hand trail down her arched back to cup her pert, firm bottom.

"Good point, where in the Nine Hells were you when I was bored out of my skull reading dusty old tomes...?" Astrid paused the moment her hands found the hem of Shesayne's succinct red skirt. With the lightest of touches, she trailed a finger underneath and only felt soft skin and humid warmth between the firm globes of Shesayne‘s bottom, "Oh...," she sighed in wonder, lightly shaking her head in disbelief, "you are the best."

"Remember, this doesn't mean I'm easy..." The half-elf breathed sardonically, her fingers trailing up Astrid's bared thighs.

"You just didn't want to ruin the skirt, right?" Astrid said, a little weakly as she felt something surge deep in the pit of her belly. Shesayne's fingers felt as though they made blood pulse just a little faster wherever they touched. Then there was Shesayne's gorgeous bottom covered only by the thinnest slip of cloth which teased and revealed, whilst coyly hiding that hot little treasure which Astrid was desperate to discover.

"Clever girl, you see, it's so easy-simple-straightforward to understand me, now what would you say to a nice after dinner cup of tea at your place?" Shesayne's soft, pink lips were brushing ever so gently against the pale skin of Astrid's throat, her breath hot on the sensitive flesh.

"My place? Yeah, but I suspect it's a little small and, frankly, it's a mess." Astrid confessed, before realising that Shesayne was probably not looking to comment on the decor.

"Well, we've got no other choice. I still live with my parents."

***

Aerylle cleared the table with satisfaction. Min's first dinner at home in quite a few days had turned out to be perfectly pleasant and romantic, even. The tiefling had paid her flattering compliments, poured her wine without being asked, and even entertained her with various amusing stories about her exploits in the Hive. Naturally, as was Min's nature, the narration had become increasingly salacious with each glass of feywine the tiefling put away and even Aerylle was not immune to its forward sensuality. Min, predictably, had caught onto this and spent the last part of their dinner playfully teasing Aerylle under the table, running her toes with expert grace over the elven maiden's smooth, slender leg, stopping just short of the knee. By the end of it, Aerylle was ready to forgive Min for her absence, even if the question of why she had so often been away was quietly shelved. There was, Aerylle reflected, no point in spoiling a perfectly good supper with paranoid suspicions.

Min was already waiting for her the moment she finished clearing off the plates and setting them to soak in a basin full of warm, perfumed water. The tiefling was grinning in a most predatory, enigmatic way, her sultry red lips curled with anticipation. Aerylle could only fix her gaze upon her lover in admiration: Min was spectacular - so lithe, yet undoubtedly feminine in the flare of her hips and the curve of her breasts, but certainly not in an ostentatious manner. Min was, if anything, elegant and exotically alluring. That allure, translated in the sway of her hips, or the casual way she flicked back her straight, ember red hair, sent fire coursing through Aerylle's veins and liquid heat stirring in her loins. More provocative still was her transparent red silk dressing gown, always left open so that even the nest of soft, deep red curls atop her sex was in full view. Min was certainly not self-conscious about nakedness, or anything, for that matter.

"All done, princess?" Min queried, her smile broadening as Aerylle approached.

"You could say so." Came the soft reply and, before Aerylle knew it, her lips had been shrouded in the lush, moist warmth of Min's kiss.

"So, d'you want to play?" Min whispered, her tongue flicking across Aerylle's pink lips, her gaze boring deep into the elven maiden's clear, blue eyes.

"Yes," came the passionate reply, "but maybe I should put on something a little more...special, I don't suppose I am very appealing right now in my librarian's robe." It had been just a few days, but that was too long to be far from Min's searingly arousing touch.

"Nah, you're always lovely," Min reassured, gently grazing her tongue over Aerylle's sensitive, pointed ear - the grey elf shuddered and gasped sharply at the electrically pleasurable sensation, "but you've got to promise that you'll do whatever I ask you to."

"Of course..." Aerylle sighed dreamily, "anything." With Min, nothing could be unpleasant or perverse, because it all flowed from the most naturally sensuous woman Aerylle had ever met.

Min nodded and unravelled the red satin belt to her dressing gown, carefully sliding it across Aerylle's delicate, almond eyes, and tying it around back so that the elven maiden was blindfolded. Aerylle could only seem glimmers of light in the corner of her eye and nothing else and that, too, was dimmed. Min was preparing herself to pounce like a masterful, hunting leopard. The tiefling's bare feet were soundless against the carpeted floor of Aerylle's modest little living room and, before she knew it, the grey elf felt alone as if, quite literally, there was no one else in the chamber. A few moments with her eyes blindfolded allowed Aerylle to focus on sound and sensation, so she was now keenly aware of how her stiff little nipples pebbled against the fabric of her cream-coloured librarian's robe and of how she felt warm and a little sticky between her thighs.

"Don't move, princess." Min ordered, so that Aerylle realised the tiefling was behind her, "So, did you miss me?" Her voice was hot on Aerylle's ear - the grey elf shuddered, whimpering as she felt the tip of Min's tongue trail down it with delicious wetness.

"Yes, by the Moonbow, so much..." Aerylle said fervently.

"What do elven librarians wear under their robes?" Min mused, her fingers trailing gently up Aerylle's sides.

"Just my undergarments...it does get a little dusty in the library..."

"Is my elven princess' little pussy sensitive?" Min said with gentle sarcasm, her fingers beginning to unlace the front of Aerylle's robe. She could already feel the firm, rubbery nipples under the soft fabric and the perfect, little snow-white conical breasts beneath.

"You try getting cystitis and tell me how sensitive yours is." The librarian shot back. That was, quite literally, a sore spot: her first few days at the Library had been an endless to-and-fro to the latrine until her colleague, Lirai, took pity on her and finally volunteered to fetch a healing salve.

"Hey, c'mon, can we play the game or not?" Min protested, finally loosening the front of Aerylle's robe. Two pearly-white, wonderfully firm breasts slipped out gracefully from the fabric. Aerylle's delectable, light pink nipples felt hot and taut under Min's teasingly scraping fingernails.

"Oh, yes, quite...sorry." Aerylle mumbled apologetically, feeling her hips roll involuntarily at the delicious sensation of Min's fingers gently gliding across her nipples, "Uhm...yes, your sweet little elven princess'...uhm...flower is just a little delicate for Sigil." The elven maiden did her best to produce a softly seductive tone, even if she drew the line at using Min's crude terminology for what she viewed, along with literal flowers themselves, as a miracle of the Multiverse.

"That's a start," Min remarked, her tongue now dancing lasciviously against Aerylle's ear while her hands gently cupped the elven girl's breasts, "and has my princess been naughty? Playing with herself when dear little Min was far away?" The tiefling's voice had sunk to a low, conspiratorial whisper, her fingers now applying a soft, tugging pressure to Aerylle's nipples.

"Maybe a little..." Aerylle confessed - as far as elves were concerned, that was nothing to be ashamed about, "but I was thinking of you."

"Take your slip off...slowly." Aerylle felt Min's soft sex begin to rub against her bottom, leaving hot, wet trails against the clear fabric as the tiefling writhed against her lover in anticipation.

Aerylle complied, Min had already raised the hem of her robe up. The grey elf's graceful fingers hooked into the waistband of her immaculate white silk culottes and, inch by inch, began to draw the smooth fabric down her thighs until, almost as if by instinct, she paused as she felt the garment become looser around her knees, "Stop!" Min ordered, her lips hot on Aerylle's ear while her hands hiked up the grey elf's robe, revealing the fragrant, perfectly hairless mound of Aerylle's sex, "Look at you, you're absolutely soaked. D'you reckon you could stand a fucking? What about my hand?" The tiefling gazed longingly at the translucent moisture that had stained the silky undergarment - Aerylle just needed a little prompting and she would be ready for anything.

The grey elf nodded furiously, so aroused by her sensory deprivation and the sensual drawl of Min's voice that she was in no position to object, "Finish taking it off." Min commanded and Aerylle sank lower into a pleasantly embarrassing squatting position as she felt the undergarments pool at her feet. Surreptitiously, she brushed a finger over the silken fabric and discovered that Min was right - a thin layer of sticky wetness had formed, betraying the fire that burned in the elven maiden's loins, "Stop there," Min ordered, "don't move." Aerylle felt Min release the hem of her robe, so that the garment puddled back around her feet. Min moved soundlessly, so Aerylle did not sense any motion, but merely felt something soft and downy brush against her nose and it was then she knew that Min was presenting her juicing sex to her, for she was overcome by the spicy-sweet scent of warm cinnamon with just a hint of feminine muskiness.

"May I kneel?" Aerylle inquired, her lips already pressing reverently against Min's sex. Although she could not see, the elven maiden knew those rich, sensual deep red nether lips well, so too did she adore the pleasant spiciness of the pearly nectar of the tiefling's arousal.

"Go ahead." Min sighed, beginning to feel her desire flow thickly through her veins with Aerylle's first, expert licks against the lust-inflamed surface of her sex. Aerylle had already settled into a more comfortable position, toes planted firmly into the carpet for balance as she lapped at Min's sex. Aerylle's tongue glided through the soft inner lips which the elven maiden held open with two splayed fingers, moving, by instinct, ever higher towards the stiff little bud of the tiefling's clit. With her sight obscured, the sensory assault of pleasuring Min was utterly sublime: she could taste the delectable mixture of spicy, sweet and saline, feel the soft, velvety texture of those crimson nether lips and, best of all, when she began to probe the juicing entrance of the tiefling's pussy with her free hand, the sensation of flesh yielding and parting under her loving pressure was indescribable. Min drew a deep breath as she felt Aerylle's slender fingers, elegant like those of a painter, ease their way into her sodden channel.

Min thrust her hips out to present herself to Aerylle - it was an awkward position, but lovemaking, in the tiefling's opinion, ought never to be planned. Her hands caressed Aerylle's golden tresses, moving down, teasingly, to graze over the elven girl's pointed ears. Aerylle, though she burned for Min's tongue, or hand, or dildo or anything that would bring her to the climax she had put off for too long, continued her work unabated, her tongue trilling rhythmically against Min's tumescent clit while her fingers danced deep in the tiefling's canal, rubbing gently against the nectar-sodden inner walls. The tiefling's breath grew shorter and more ragged as she felt her passion stir deep in her loins. Aerylle's licking was frantic, but precise, her tongue planted on Min's clit while her fingers began to thrust with ever greater insistence. Min was too wet to give even the slightest resistance, as she felt was the dull, pleasurable impulse of each one of Aerylle's long, winding thrusts coupled with the more sparkling sensation of her clit under continuous, wet attack.

"Hmm...princess...!" Min moaned softly as she came in sharp, sighing gasps. With one deft flick of her hand, Min cast aside Aerylle's blindfold, so that the grey elf could see the product of her handiwork. Aerylle smiled in satisfaction - for she could feel the tiefling's tight channel grasp gently against her fingers. Before her was the familiar sight of Min's rich, fragrant sex, juicing like a ripe tropical fruit. Min, however, was far from finished. She helped Aerylle to her feet and swiftly covered the elven maiden's rosy lips with her own. Aerylle stumbled a little, stepping into the soft fabric of her undergarments so she could feel cooling moisture against her feet. One clean jerk and her librarian's robe fell to the floor too. Min's kisses sank lower, her lips trailing down the pale expanse of Aerylle's chest before rising up the conical mound of a small, but perfectly graceful breast.

"How naughty can you be, princess?" Min asked, chuckling softly as she fell to one knee and began to lick the underside of Aerylle's tumescent nipples.

"As naughty as my wicked tiefling captor wants me." In truth, the elven girl was not averse to a little role-playing - but grey elven role-playing was decidedly more...subtle.

Min purred, her sultry lips locked around Aerylle's turgid nipple, her tongue a stiff, hard point against the sensitive peak. Aerylle whimpered in frustration: her need was burning inside her, so much that she would have fulfilled any fantasy of Min's just to find blessed relief, "All right, my sweet Aerylle: on your back, raise your hips and spread your thighs."

The elven librarian hastened to comply, carefully setting herself down on the carpeted floor and shifting her weight onto her upper back. Helpful as ever, Min brought over a few satin cushions from the modest couch that dominated the drawing room and set them under Aerylle's pert little bottom to raise the elven girl's hips further still. Aerylle's breath was short as she observed Min prepare for what she knew would be exquisite. The pulsing in the elven maiden's temples drowned out almost everything else, so that when Min smiled wickedly and disappeared into Aerylle's bedchamber before returning, her stride as languid as ever, but with a long, thick red olisbos - the consistency of leather - already rooted in the sodden canal of her sex, everything appeared as if it had been slowed down. Every one of Min's movements seemed to be pregnant with meaning, even if her smile was as irreverent and her touch as lascivious as ever. Aerylle braced herself: Min's dildo looked enormous, longer and thicker than the one they had used the first time they had made love in that way - a technique so alien to the elven mindset.

Min's orange eyes smouldered with desire as she approached Aerylle's submissively presented form. The grey elf obediently held her pale, slender thighs open, revealing the magnificently juicing crevasse of her sex - delicate and drenched like a flower covered in morning dew. Positioning herself on her knees in front of Aerylle, Min ran the very tip of the red, textured dildo across the lust-fevered petals of Aerylle's pussy. The grey elf cringed, whimpering in encouragement. It mattered not that Min's lovemaking would be so un-feminine by elven standards, she needed the tiefling to take her, rule her and grant her release. Min was in no hurry, preferring to watch Aerylle squirm desperately on the carpet, her stiff, adorably pink nipples drilling in the air, her blue, almond eyes half-lidded with burning desire.

"You've got to say the magic word." Min whispered, her tone low and sultry, she slipped the dildo closer to the moist entrance of Aerylle's tight channel. The sensation of wet, silky warmth was relayed by the olisbos' enchantment deep into Min's sex where it had taken root. In the tiefling's experience, every part of Aerylle's graceful body was worth savouring to the fullest.

"Please...Min," Aerylle moaned biting her lip, she felt her hips buck, inviting the tiefling in deeper, "take me, make me yours..."

"As Her Highness wishes." Min sighed and moved her hips forward in one, firm thrust. Aerylle cried out, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as she did her utmost to steady herself despite the sudden pain, "Easy, easy," Min reassured, her numerous trysts ensured that making love with an olisbos was second nature to her, "just let it in, don't fight it, just imagine it's my hand." With that, the tiefling braced herself against the carpet, thighs and calves taut to ensure she could control the depth and strength of her penetration. Aerylle grimaced as inch after glorious inch of the dildo began to part the sodden inner flesh of her channel, squeezing past the velvety inner flesh with each one of Min's patient little thrusts. "There, you see...what a good girl, you've almost taken all of it," Min sighed, the sensation of Aerylle's channel so tight against her was as if the most sublime pressure had been applied to her clit, squeezing the tiny little bud from each side, "now one more little push, all right?"

Aerylle nodded, a single tear leaving a warm, wet trail across her cheek. With a sudden, almost jarring thrust, Min settled the rest of the dildo into Aerylle, so they lay pussy to pussy, the tiefling's clit tempting close to the tiny, swollen bud atop the grey elf's pale pink sex. Aerylle shuddered - she had surrendered herself completely, so that she now felt as though her sex were the centre of her existence, so even the shameful pleasure of feeling a few stray drops of nectar slide down against the taut little rosebud of her anus aroused her even more. Then, with slow, deep strokes, Min began to fuck her. Even in her mind, there was no euphemism Aerylle could find to describe that delicious perverse mixture of ecstasy and humiliation she felt at being parted so effortlessly and filled so thoroughly. She, the daughter of a respectable elven family, had spread her thighs and bottom for a common tiefling rogue and was now, worst of all, allowing this wild, dangerous woman to ravish her inner flesh with a dildo in precise, fluid strokes. Min's breathing quickened, her abdomen and thighs taut as her breasts rose and fell in rhythm with her thrusts, each one bringing more delicious sensations of tight, clamping wetness to the tiefling's sex.

Thrusting her hips back, wantonly inviting deeper penetration, Aerylle hooked her calves around Min's neck and drew the tiefling in deeper. Pleasantly surprised by her lover's initiative, Min was happy to oblige, her thrusts becoming more and more insistent, ramming the textured dildo further into the channel of the grey elf's sex, hoping to graze against that spot of hypersensitive tissue she knew would give the librarian the orgasm she deserved. Thrust followed thrust, hips grinding together until Aerylle could take no more and surrendered to the wave of electric pleasure that spread through her loins and shot up her spine. She tensed, her cries high and melodic and she came, long and hard, with uninhibited, mewling gasps, her graceful toes curling as her legs tensed around Min's neck. The tiefling took her time, savouring the spasmodic contractions of Aerylle's channel in languid, unhurried thrusts, before finally surrendering to her pleasure and collapsing atop the elven maiden's soft, pearl-white breasts, with ragged, barking gasps.

"Mmm..." Min whispered lasciviously as she carefully withdrew from Aerylle and mentally bade the dildo to release itself from her sex, "next time I'm going for that sweet elven ass of yours."

"By the Seventh Heaven, Min!" Aerylle protested indignantly, still panting, "First, for umpteenth time, I am not a boy and second, it would split me in half."

"Aw, c'mon," Min responded jovially, her sultry lips hot on Aerylle's as they embraced, not caring that they were naked on a sweat-slick carpet, "that was good one, wasn't it?" She settled atop Aerylle, her kisses softer as she traced the sculptural contours of the elven girl's high cheekbones.

"Yes," Aerylle conceded, wrapping her arms around Min's waist, "it was lovely..." She paused a moment, taking her time to ensure that her eyes were squarely focused on Min's as she desperately searched for the words that had eluded her since the first, fortuitous evening when she had met her lover, "and I know I have been very much unlike an elven lady recently in not being honest with my feelings. But we are so different in so many ways, that I feared being rejected. A puerile fear, I know, but right now I will embrace my new life in Sigil and say that I am in love with you, Min. I only regret that I cannot say it Grey Elven, because I promise it would sound so much better, but I am in love with you and I am certain that you are the woman of my life."

Min paused and, very nervously, swallowed, licking her lips as if searching for something to say. Aerylle had caught her unprepared and perhaps, said too much in a moment of post-coital vulnerability, "I'm not that good at rattling on 'bout this stuff," she began, trailing her fingers lovingly over Aerylle's soft lips, "but you're the only girl I know, 'cept for Shesayne, I can see myself coming back to my kip to, or having dinner with every night and always telling me the dark of some corner of the Multiverse or other, but I've got to say this..."

"Anything, my love." Aerylle breathed, trailing her fingers up Min's arched back. The damage had been done and the need to say what she felt finally set free. It was now up to Min to decide whether or not she would accept the love Aerylle had just professed.

"I can't be an elven lady for you. Fuck, when was the last time you heard of a tiefling marrying? What I mean is, I'm Min and Min I'll be 'till the Lady's Mazes square up, so just think twice before you make a choice that'd hurt you."

"What do you mean...?"

"I fucked Lys and Marsé na." Min confessed and, for the first time in her life, it pained her to say so.

"I expected as much," Aerylle said - there was no anger in her voice, just quiet resignation, "so..." it was then that her voice began to break as a knot of emotion welled in her throat, "so, what are we to do?"

"I'm sorry: really, not 'cause I did it, but 'cause I disappointed you. I'd do anything for you, but you can't stop me from being Min." The tiefling's fingers diligently brushed away the few stray tears that trailed miserably down Aerylle's cheeks.

"That much is certain. But I am not Shesayne and I cannot live my life as if it were a casual game. I want to be able to earn my keep doing what I love and return home to...to a family. Perhaps that is very much to ask in Sigil, but I still think we could have that: a home, a family, romantic evenings for the two of us, social evening with Shesayne and even Verden, so we would never have to be alone again."

"You need to think about it, don't you?" Said Min, rising to her feet and rearranging her ember-red hair behind her shoulders, "Anyways, I think I'd better leave, 'cause you're probably pissed and you should be, too. I'm just a tiefling bitch at heart and I guess you need someone who'll never turn her head when the sorceress in the slit skirt comes into the tavern." As she dressed under Aerylle's silently tearful gaze, Min felt the keen weight of her inadequacy. Aerylle's dreams were so distant, so improbable, yet there was Min who had risked life and limb to steal a dragon-turtle comb to bring a smile to Shesayne's face when they were little more than children. That Min knew that as ridiculous as a girl's dream could sound, it was sometimes - just sometimes - worthwhile doing everything to see it fulfilled.

"Min!" Aerylle called out suddenly the moment the tiefling had reached for the door. The elven maiden threw her arms around her lover, drawing her in close, "If I decide that I cannot live without you, will you at least give it a try...give us a chance, not only as lovers, but as something more still."

"Yeah, I could do that." Min conceded, gently placing a kiss on Aerylle's silky, golden hair, "But you think well and I'll see you in a couple of days." The landing outside Aerylle's apartment was cold, but Min paid it no mind. For her, the cold, damp air of Sigil by night was like a forgetful embrace. Without having to see it, Min knew that Aerylle had curled up, naked, in a foetal position, tightly clutching a pillow that still smelled of the tiefling's incense-like aroma, weeping soundlessly - her mind wracked with doubts and frustrated desires. Min knew this and it saddened her to no end - but Aerylle had to be certain that the love she had professed was love for Min the tiefling and not Min who could one day become an elf. Whatever Aerylle's conscience told her, Min's mind was already made up as she ambled down the deserted streets of the Clerk's Ward back to her familiar haunts in the Hive: for better or for worse, she would abide by the grey elf's decision.

***

Astrid's home was a mess. That much was undeniable. A massive quantity of books and papers had been cast to one side of the tiny bedsit in which the human woman lived and, in the far corner, just a little bathing nook separated from the main chamber by a battered old screen. A work table was covered by an endless series of mechanisms, trinkets and artefacts in various states of disrepair. An unmade bed with clothing strewn upon it lay, fairly uninspiringly, against a wall.

"Fuck, you certainly weren't lying..." Shesayne mused. Astrid did not give her the chance to continue, for her lips silenced any further comments from the half-elf, her hands already desperately hiking up Shesayne's skirt, clasping the pert bottom beneath.

"Shut up for once!" Astrid reproached jokingly, her fingers trailing curiously through the warm, moist crevasse of the half-elf's bottom before hooking into the skirt's waistband. One tug and Shesayne's skirt was at her feet, revealing the delicious swell of her hairless sex. Giggling conspiratorially, the half-elf decided to take Astrid's lead and hastily kicked off her boots and divested herself of her top. Astrid pounced again, her lips hungry and frantic as her tongue danced passionately with Shesayne's. She felt the half-elf's dextrous fingers begin to unbutton her leggings, "What do you like? I mean, when you fuck, what do you prefer, I'd hate to embarrass myself." The human mage said with, as far as Shesayne was concerned, refreshing frankness.

"Let's just say I like a woman who can take care of me." Came the impish reply. Astrid had finally disentangled herself from her boots and leggings and was struggling with her blouse. Undressing while kissing was always awkward, but it would have been a sin to leave Shesayne's soft, yielding lips unattended to.

"Right, then it'll be my pleasure to take care of you, my sweet, rare beauty." Astrid sighed. She was finally gloriously naked and pressed up against Shesayne, her hands exploring the soft, wiry expanse of the half-elf's body. Shesayne’s breasts were compact, but well rounded with taut, dark pink nipples that were wondrously firm, yet pliant under Astrid's touch. She allowed Astrid to explore her, all the while inching towards the bed, until she tumbled, chuckling softly, onto the sheets. Astrid followed, positioning herself over Shesayne, so that the half-elf could admire her svelte, yet unmistakably feminine form. There was just a smattering of freckles atop her small, pale breasts and, most strikingly, a deep blue colour to the downy curls that lay atop her sex.

"You dyed yourself down there too...ooh, I like it, a woman of conviction and principle." Shesayne sighed as Astrid gently captured a stiff, rubbery nipple between her lips and began to suckle with loving, wet pressure. There, on the soft flesh of the half-elf's breasts and even on the tumescent flower-bud of her nipple, she tasted the subtle sweetness of honey-dust; that unmistakably elven flavour that drove Astrid wild with desire.

"It's not too hard when you can do it magically, that and I'd just look silly with blue hair and a blonde pussy, no?" Astrid trailed her tongue lower, her mouth cloyed with sweet honey dust and the intoxicatingly sensual flavour of the half-elf's skin. She licked down the taut expanse of Shesayne's belly, leaving a long, moist trail that ended between the outer lips of the half-elven girl's hairless sex. The aroma was unlike anything Astrid had ever encountered - the most pleasant fusion of a moon elf's tulip-like floral smell and something musky and deeply female. Shesayne shuddered, her back arching as she presented her sex to Astrid's first, inquisitive licks.

"Hmm...speaking of pussy," Shesayne began, eager to dive right into the action, "why don't you show me what yours can do?"

"Intriguing suggestion," Astrid replied, her tongue busy exploring the delectable salty-sweetness of Shesayne's copious arousal as it danced over the silky inner folds of the half-elven girl's parted sex, "what did you have in mind?"

Shesayne let out a playful, charmingly girlish laugh and lifted a leg so that its knee rested against her breast and dramatically slid her other thigh to one side, so that her deep pink sex lay gaping and open, two fingers holding the juicing inner petals apart to reveal her tiny, but adorably aroused clit, just poking through its hood, "Very simple," Shesayne said with relish, "does this give you any bright ideas?"

Astrid nodded and scrambled desperately to reposition herself, hooking one leg under Shesayne for support and raising the half-elven girl's hips so that she knelt on top of her, sex to sex, locked in a passionate nether kiss. The first few thrusts were exploratory, just to find the best position so that their lust-slick nether lips could begin to rub together, gathering glorious friction with slow, circular grinding. Astrid held Shesayne open, one of the half-elf's legs resting on her shoulder, her breath quickening as the they began to find their rhythm, hips bucking in unison, wet nether lips sliding together, grazing delightfully over tumescent clits, just as the human mage's hair tickled pleasantly against her lover's smooth sex. Shesayne bit her lip, focusing her sight on Astrid's taut body as it thrust with eager determination, her small but pretty breasts swaying ever so slightly with each motion, her thighs tensed with exertion.

"Watch this," Astrid invited, between increasingly laboured breaths, "and don't move." The human girl took an instant to focus her mind and levitated a small, silvery sphere, the size of a quail's egg into the air from her cluttered work desk. Shesayne watched in wonder as the object was propelled through the air by Astrid's mind, spinning gracefully before finally coming to rest precisely at the juncture of their lovemaking. The sphere felt cool, yet soothing against Shesayne's aroused sex. Astrid smiled wickedly and fine-tuned the sphere's position to that it rested between the engorged little buds of their clits, held aloft only by the power of thought. Despite herself, Shesayne tensed, her toes pointed, her heartbeat quickening in trepidation. Then, without warning, the device began to vibrate and Shesayne could only give out a low moan and buck her hips, only to be held firmly in place by Astrid's firm grasp. The vibration grew stronger still, the sphere expanding so that it now rested quite snugly as a bridge between the two lovers.

Astrid resumed her grinding, but this time, she could no longer restrain her moans as the sphere seemed to project powerful, scintillating waves of pleasure directly into her sex and up her spine. There was no word to describe that agonising stimulation, so Astrid merely converted her mounting lust into ever rougher thrusts, the glorious friction of nectar-slick inner lips combined with the sublime magical trilling of the vibrating sphere. Shesayne's mewling whimpers were sharp and rhythmic, as her head thrashed against the sheets, eyes screwed shut in concentration, fingers digging into the bedding for purchase. Undeterred by the mounting ecstasy that coursed in her loins, Astrid imposed her rhythm, drawing ever more satisfied moans from Shesayne, until she could no more and cried out her passion, thrusting one last time, long and hard, against the half-elf’s pussy. The vibrator remained in place, humming away and Shesayne made no secret of her own climax, mere moments after Astrid's, "Astrid...fuck, don't you sodding dare move that thing." Shesayne cried, her sex convulsed, the combined friction and vibration so sublime that she felt as if she were losing control of all the muscles of her body as they tensed and contracted in response to the uncontrollable waves of her orgasm.

"Fuck..." Shesayne whimpered incoherently, her slim hips still bucking in post-coital rapture, the sodden lips of her sex slipping delectably against Astrid's, "fuck, take me, again and again, just don't let it stop!"

Astrid slumped forward, her body slick with sweat, her breath still ragged from her climax. She was just about to oblige Shesayne by flipping her over and showing the wanton little half-elf her place when a loud crash was heard downstairs, "By the Ninth Pit! I thought we'd have more time together...Shesayne," Astrid began, her tone urgent, "you'd better get dressed. Now!"

"What's wrong, my sweet, beautiful sorceress, your mother's home?"

"I wish," Astrid said bitterly, leaping off the bed and scrambling to dress again, "get dressed. Can you use a wheel-lock or do you prefer daggers?"

"Crossbows, actually, but what in the Abyss are you on about?"

"Get dressed!" Astrid ordered, very firmly. She snapped open a drawer of her desk and retrieved a long, silvery wheel-lock pistol, its intricate mechanism visible through the magically transparent silver metal of its barrel.

"Sod it..." Shesayne complained, hastening to comply as she adjusted her skirt and fumbled for her top, "you've got some explaining to do and if it's not the sodding best excuse I’ve ever heard, you'll be looking for another cute half-elf."

"Don't go dumping me too quickly." Astrid said grimly. She loaded her pistol with a shimmering blue bullet and strapped a bandolier full of the same around her shoulder, "You're here for your own protection, now catch." The mage tossed Shesayne a wickedly curved dagger crafted out of an opalescent, gleaming metal, "I don't have crossbows so that'll have to do. Follow me."

They exited Astrid's apartment and proceeded into the landing outside. Excited voices calling in a guttural language could be heard downstairs, "Out the window then." The mage declared and marched right back in, dragging Shesayne by the hand. She forced the creaking window open and climbed onto the ledge, "Now listen, treasure, hold on to me and under no circumstances let go."

Shesayne complied, still completely disorientated by the situation. She followed Astrid onto the ledge and clutched the mage's waist for dear life. Then, they fell together onto the darkened, deserted street below. At least, they began to fall, for the first rush of air did not lead to any further acceleration. They merely drifted down, light as feathers, onto the cobblestones beneath. Shesayne watched in wonder as the Sigil cityscape seemed to flow, ever so slowly around them as they descended and, for a moment, it felt like flying. That illusion was interrupted the moment they touched the ground, "Now, run!" Astrid whispered fiercely, her thumb sliding her pistol's mechanism in place.

A guttural howl came from the entrance to Astrid's apartment building, followed by agitated chatter in a barbaric tongue. Shesayne turned and ran, hand firmly clenched in Astrid's as they sailed down damp, cobbled streets, desperately searching for the nearest point where they could just fade into the darkness. They were not so lucky, for their escape route had been anticipated and two burly, hobgoblins, clad in heavy black chainmail blocked their path. Instinctively, Astrid banked left and fired her pistol, aiming at the hobgoblin on the right. The shot caught the brutish creature straight in the chest where the bullet seemed to pause, shimmer for an instant, and then detonate in a burst of crackling electricity. Clad in metal as it was, the hobgoblin felt the deadly force course and crackle through its veins before, they too, burst. It collapsed heavily onto the soot-blackened flagstones, dark red lifeblood pouring out of its eyes and ears.

For her part, Shesayne knew what to do. Astrid needed to reload, so she banked right, skipping past the hobgoblin and trailing her dagger on the exposed inside of its thigh so as to distract its attention. The ruse worked and the slavering goblinoid turned its attention, if briefly on Shesayne by swinging its mighty morning-star wildly to catch the dextrous half-elf. To no avail, for Shesayne's eye was as quick as her legs. Quick too was Astrid's command of the wheel-lock so that, before it knew what had transpired, the second hobgoblin was caught with a bullet to the side. Another burst of electricity followed and the hobgoblin moaned, its breath misting in the cold Sigil night as it breathed its last and collapsed heavily on the paving, muscles still jerking spasmodically as its last gasps spewed forth as red mist.

"Follow me!" Astrid called, with renewed hope and began running once more. If they had passed one of the block-points, then, logically, they had probably escaped the net that Isolde had cast for them.

"I didn't know mages used guns." Shesayne whispered in wonder at Astrid's proficiency.

"Well, mages ought to adapt too, 'least that's what I told my tutors at the mage's academy before they kicked me out." Astrid responded ruefully, before deciding that it was a story for another time.

They surged onwards, their boots echoing sharply against puddles and cracked stones. Astrid knew her neighbourhood, they would be near light and safety soon, for she could see the glinting points of torches and magical illumination on the horizon. That would bring them to a main street where they could proceed to disappear into the crowd. It was then that a shadowy detachment of figures intercepted them from a side-alley: in the darkness, Astrid cold make out two burly hobgoblins and smaller, much more slender, almost unhealthily so, silhouette of a human female.

"Astrid, Astrid, Astrid, a pleasure to see you again." Isolde hummed. She was not normally inclined to crow about her triumphs, but this time, she had outdone herself. Perhaps even Dassau would be proud of her, "As much as I would like to re-acquaint myself with my dear Astrid, I really do need the ridiculous half-elf slattern you have with you." Isolde stepped out into full view, two war-hammer wielding hobgoblin mercenaries flanking her. Tall, thin with short, wheat-blonde hair and clad in her black Civic Security uniform, she looked like a living emissary of Death.

Astrid readied her pistol, "It'll take five generations before your taint is cleaned from the rest of us, Isolde." She called defiantly, Shesayne standing warily beside her, dagger at the ready.

"Let us not be foolish." Isolde swiftly withdrew a long, thin syringe from her belt pouch and injected it, in one fell swoop, into her wrist. The glowing, red fluid drained out ominously and Isolde suddenly felt lighter and a good deal more aware. So much more aware, in fact, that the light drizzle that had begun looked to her almost immobile - so that she could count every single droplet of rain and even distinguish their contours.

"Here's foolish." Astrid lifted her pistol and fired. Sidestepping the projectile was no problem for Isolde, for she saw it coming, proceeding at a perfectly manageable speed, so that is sped and detonated harmlessly in the darkness behind her. What Shesayne and Astrid saw, however, was an almost invisible, feverishly quick black blur which struck the pistol out of the mage's hand and cast her aside as if she were a rag doll.

"Quite," Isolde said dismissively standing almost motionless by the prone Astrid's side, "we made this clear time ago. We have nothing more to say to each, so let us not make our conflict as severe as it is between myself and Virginia or, even, her."

"Shesayne, run!" Astrid called out, before she felt something hard and vicious strike the side of her face. She crumpled back down to the ground, blood spilling from her lips - she had not even seen Isolde's hand.

"No." Shesayne whispered, casting aside her dagger - it fell with a dull clatter on the damp flagstones, "If you're a woman of your word, take me and leave her." There was no point in risking both of their lives.

"Excellent. Bind her." Isolde ordered. The two hobgoblins moved to comply, clamping Shesayne's wrists in cold, black metal manacles behind her back, "Now Astrid, time for you to return to your lair and mull over what a waste of air your life has been."

"That's a little rich coming from you, right Issie?" Astrid said, shifting to a kneeling position as she eyed her pistol but a few feet away. It was then that she felt a sharp, immensely powerful blow to her ribs and she landed five feet behind her original position with a loud thud. She felt something in her chest crack. More blood, this time unpleasantly warm and metallic, welled in her throat. Isolde was simply too fast, striking her before she could even see the movement.

"Call me that again, and they will have you for supper." Isolde replied coldly. Astrid detected a powerful, acrid stench of metal and reptile behind her. A low hissing sound followed and, as she turned, she realised it was a lost cause. She and Shesayne were surrounded, for, behind her were two powerfully built khaasta - massive, terrifying creatures like upright monitor lizards, clad in heavy black-and-gold lacquered armour. One was armed with a trident and sported a frilly crest dipped in black dye and the other had a wicked, serrated halberd. Their glowing, yellow reptilian eyes gleamed in the darkness. The stench of rotting flesh from their maws was absolutely repulsive, yet more repulsive still were their long, yellowed fangs, dripping in venomous ichor.

One khaasta bobbed its head, hissing, tail lashing menacingly - in reality, it was communicating with its companion, "This one is female, correct?"

"Yes, Third Pike," said the other khaasta flicking his forked tongue out twice in succession to indicate the irrelevance of their debate on mammalian gender, "and so too is the other one."

"How can you tell, Second Lasher? They really all do look the same to me." Third Pike hissed. In any case, they were unremarkable females - too small to bear good, strong eggs, "Are we to feed?"

"No." Second Lasher clarified, cocking its head to one side in disappointment, "But, in any case, we just fed. They say gorging is bad for your health."

"Nonsense. Our ancestors have been doing it for generations. It cannot be."

"It generates impurities in the heart, apparently..."

"Will you two do your job?" Isolde interrupted imperiously. She had grown tired of the two overgrown lizards constantly debating...whatever in the Abyss seven foot tall monitor lizards debated.

"We obey, boss." Second Lasher gurgled in a grotesque parody of mammalian speech. He seized Astrid in his heavy, plate-mail gauntlet and cast her aside, before approaching Shesayne. The half-elf felt something hard and sharp prod in her back, "Move." Came the hideous, reptilian voice and Shesayne complied, setting out miserably, her hands manacled, with a triumphantly smiling Isolde by her side.

"Min!" Shesayne called, disguising it as a cry of pain as she felt the trident prod her back again. Astrid nodded in the darkness. It hurt whenever she breathed, for she almost certainly had a few broken ribs, but Shesayne was right. The only way to atone for her failure was to fetch Min and retrieve Shesayne by force, if it was the last thing she did. In her mind, Astrid was convinced that it was only right that she took responsibility for putting an end to Isolde's folly. She only regretted not having done so a long time ago.

Meanwhile, Shesayne was led out onto the main street as a common criminal. There, in the glaring lights of the taverns and the assorted brothels and night boutiques, none dared look at her for fear of drawing the wrath of the two savage khaasta who prodded her on.

"Not so, hard!" Isolde snarled and the khaasta dutifully ceased its prodding, "The Bureau Director wants her in one piece." In truth, it was Isolde who wanted Shesayne spotless and absolutely unblemished. Finally, her odious, soul-draining job reserved a little fun for her.

Shesayne blinked back the tears of fear and helpless rage, doing her utmost to find strength in the conviction that Min would find her and rescue her, just as she had done in that dusty courtyard when the elven neighbourhood boys hard cornered her. That was a conviction she could never let go of. But, even as her eyesight was blurred by tears, the glaring light of the busy street allowed her to focus more intently on Isolde's visage. There was perpetual bitterness on the young human woman's expression, but, had it not been for her unnaturally thin physique and the look of hate plastered on her features, she would actually have been a very pretty girl. Not only pretty, but familiar too - so familiar that the resemblance was striking.

"What, may I ask, are you looking at?" Isolde said sternly, turning to focus her cold, blue eyes on Shesayne's trembling form. The half-elven slut would learn discipline, Isolde decided, and it would be her pleasure to be Shesayne's teacher.

Shesayne blinked and gazed warily at Isolde's features one more time. No, there was no doubt about, so the half-elf blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "You...you look exactly like Virginia."