- Excerpt from Aerylle's letters to her mother; Sigil to Imej correspondence

The cabaret was quiet. A lull in the performances signalled the end of the shrill piping of flutes and clashing of cymbals, while the stage was cleared of any remaining Vikayy tarantula egg-sacs. Lily sank lower into her seat and ran a long finger around the rim of her goblet of deep-green mosswine. Although she was loath to admit any weakness to herself, she felt lost: she had been there, hiding and resentful in the shadows when Virginia had professed her undying 'love' to Marséna. That same, fickle human love that Lily had grown to detest with all her heart: it was a love that had no rhyme nor reason, but seemed to be driven on by ridiculous, girlish whims. Surface dwellers often accused drow society of being opaque, but, if Lily had to be perfectly honest, there was something deeply frustrating and incomprehensible about her situation. So she had quietly absconded from the Temple of the Vigilant Maiden and decided to give herself time - and space - to think. In the end, the comforts of home had become too much to resist, so Lily had settled for a gathering place of Sigil's substantial drow community: the "Night Below". Euphemistically translated into Sigil's lingua franca as a "lady's parlour", the "Night Below" was that uniquely drow fusion of a tavern, restaurant, theatre and brothel. Naturally, in her native city, women of Lily's standing would never have dignified such places with their custom, since all of the aforementioned services could easily be obtained privately by any self-respecting Daughter of a noble House.

Necessity, however, as always for the drow, was the mother of invention and Lily had finally decided to settle for the earthier delights of the masses. The clientele, at least, was exclusively female and predominantly drow, with only a few shifty, cowled tieflings and assorted half-drow outcasts to fill out the ranks. For the first time since coming to Sigil, Lily had the pleasure of hearing the Drow tongue - albeit a colloquial version - fill the air.

The cabaret itself was pleasantly dark, so that Lily's heat sensitive vision could glory in the subtle nuances of drow aesthetics without the invasive glow of light. In an odd way, she felt less out of place there, amongst commoners, than she did at the Temple of Eilistraee where the priestess who had greeted her - comely as she was - had endorsed a vision of being drow that Lily was not quite ready to share. If her failed tryst with Virginia had taught her anything, it was that she would have been better served by following her racial instincts and sticking with her own kind. Then, perhaps, she would not have had to drown that unfamiliar, tugging feeling of sadness deep inside her with second-rate mosswine.

A sharply aromatic smoke began to fill the air as the next act started. Lily shifted in her chair and adjusted her spider-silk dress - there was nothing like the sensation of that most delightful of fabrics against her obsidian skin to remind her of home. A buxom drow attendant, little more than a girl and wearing nothing but an octagon-patterned grey loincloth passed by to top up Lily's goblet. With a subtle dance of her fingers in the intricate drow sign-language, she indicated that Lily needed to contribute only a hundred Sigil Marks for the pleasure of her company. Lily briefly mulled the offer over, before rapidly coming back to her senses. To pay cash for sensual satisfaction was too crude to mention; only the lower classes did it. Courtesans and the legion of aspiring actresses who sought a role in the Theatre of the Cruel and the Sublime were another matter entirely, but those delights had long since passed into memory with the utter destruction of Lily's aristocratic House.

Onstage, the next act of the evening was beginning. Fragrant smoke was projected upon the audience to freshen the chamber. Then, a clash of cymbals rang out, followed by deliciously the deliciously jarring, high-pitched whining of a demon flute. The smoke cleared and the stage scenery had changed: a curtain of silver chains ringed a drow woman of exquisite beauty, clad in a tight-fitting musician's costume. As was traditional in drow performance arts, the flautist had dressed in the specific uniform of her act, so that she wore the inky-black, smooth busen leather outfit of a handmaiden of Lloth - a yochol.

Lily ran her eyes admiringly over the musician's frame: she was ripe and feminine, with heavy, firm breasts, like orbs carved out of pure onyx, wonderfully flared hips and a cruelly beautiful visage. She was definitely older than Lily and in the full flush of womanhood. Even if she was a commoner, for no drow noble would ever lower herself to performing in public, she exuded power and self-confidence - two virtues that immediately sent Lily's blood racing.

The flute rang out again, sharp and clear like a dagger falling on polished stone in a wide, Underdark cavern. A few improvised opening tunes led to the familiar, ghostly keening of the Yochol's Revel, a famous and much-loved piece in the drow canon. The execution was perfect to Lily's well-trained and highly sensitive musical ear, even if she regretted that the performance was not as garish as she had remembered it. The theatre of Lily's native city - Ille-Athalath - always had fresh-faced girls engaged in acts of wonderfully unspeakable debauchery with one another to complement the shrill, discordant piping. But the musical rendition, this time, was more than enough to stand on its own merits.

Lily's eyes remained burned into the flautist who, for an instant, seemed to detect Lily's admiration in the corner of her eye. Not a glance was exchanged, that would have been too obvious - for the drow were a profoundly observant race and anything too overt would be deemed at best inelegant and at worst rude. Lily became absorbed by the music, the grace of the flautist and the hushed silence that had fallen, as a sea of eyes, glowing deep red in the darkness, fixed themselves on the spectacle.

"Hey..." Lily heard a familiar voice call in the darkness. "Lily, is that you?"

"Silence!" the drow woman hissed. The voice was Marséna's. How exactly the paladin had managed to find her was a mystery, but Lily was far more interested in the performance.

"No, Lily, we've got to talk." Marséna insisted, feeling her way in the darkness. She had already bumped into two drow women who were none too pleased to enter into physical contact with a human, so her movements were especially cautious.

"About what?" Lily whispered savagely, lowering one hand to stroke the pommel of her sacrificial dagger. "If you have come to add insult to injury, I shall not play along. Keep your Virginia. I survived once and I shall survive again."

"Lily...please hear me out..." Marséna replied plaintively, reaching in the darkness for a chair in which to sit down.

"Oh? And why should I?"

"Because I owe you an explanation."

"What is there to explain?" Lily snarled. The act was over as abruptly as it had commenced and Marséna had made her miss the final coda. "Virginia chose you as her favourite and now it is up to me to seek my fortune elsewhere."

"I know you're angry." Marséna began cautiously, her voice a low, conspiratorial whisper. "So I wanted to say that I'm sorry...if that means anything to you..."

"No. It does not." the dark elf interrupted dryly, taking a sip of her mosswine.

"And that I want you to come back to Quarters."

"What?" Lily inquired, both bemused and perplexed.

"We were worried about you, and I think Virginia misses you already."

"Perhaps she should have thought of that before professing her cloying, sentimental love to you."

"Damn it, Lily, I miss you." Marséna said with striking sincerity. Virginia had been distraught that morning when she did not find Lily in her bed and even Friyya appeared more than a little concerned. For her part, Marséna had never wished Lily ill; indeed, the dark elf was pleasant enough company when she was in a good mood and, in a perverse sort of way, rather affectionate.

"Even if you do," Lily began softly, "you still think that I am drow and that I cannot be anything else. Had I been the same woman I was when I fled my native city, I would have run you through with my dagger right here and absconded into the darkness. But I am Lily, now, and not Talilissa. You are a strong woman, Marséna, and I admire you for that. Anyone whom Virginia finds so worthy of her attentions must be. Yet you cannot understand me; you cannot bring yourself to realise that drow, too, have need for affection, or that we can regret not awaking near the warmth of another, or that we, too, have tears to shed. Merely because we are not as forward or as sentimental with these passions of ours as humans are, does not mean that we feel them any less."

"You're right." Marséna paused, trying vainly to gauge Lily's reaction. The dark elf's eyes remained an inscrutable, unblinking red. "But whatever happened does not change the fact that Virginia cares for you - we all do. Please, Lily, come home..."

"Did Virginia send you?"

"No, I had Syf cover for me and spent all day looking for you." Marséna replied, with a touch of defiance.

"Do you care for me so much, or do you care only for what Virginia thinks?" Lily challenged.

"You tell me. Drow are good at detecting lies, right? Well tell me, do I sound or appear insincere to you? I'll admit that I hated you at first, but you've got the strongest character I've ever seen this side of Isobel and...well, it doesn't seem right not seeing you at breakfast each morning. The truth is, I'd rather have you back than wandering the streets of Sigil."

Lily paused. She knew, of course, that Marséna was telling the truth. The human girl was too transparent to even begin to lie effectively. More interestingly, however, the paladin had placed herself in a position of vulnerability, choosing to walk into a darkened tavern full of drow and tieflings. Had the circumstances been reversed, no self-respecting drow would have taken such a risk.

"Would you like some mosswine?" Lily relented.

"No...thanks." For the first time, Marséna smiled.

"How foolish of me." Lily said quietly. "I was angry at being rejected by a human woman. If my sisters had found out, I would have been flensed alive." Lily's smile was cruelly ironic. "But the surface world has softened me. We...we are supposed to be indifferent to disappointments of this type, if only to take rightful revenge sometime in the future."

"I know what you mean." Marséna said, warming to the conversation. "We've all fallen for the most unsuitable people when we were younger...I mean, I have...maybe it's a little different for dark el-...drow, I mean, drow."

"No, drow can be fooled as well when they are young and inexperienced. The only difference is that we have a somewhat lower tolerance for failure."

"You didn't fail Virg still loves you and, even though this will probably sound a bit rich coming from me now, but it's better to be in the company of those who love you than those who sleep with you, and don't love you. Trust me, I know."

"Oh?"

"I was happier with Virg, even when we weren't making love, than I have ever been with anyone else." Marséna said, hoping that confiding in Lily would convince the drow woman to at least begin to trust her, "In my twelfth summer, my last before leaving for Sigil, a boy told me he loved me and since I was in a good mood and believed him, we went to the cellar and I sucked him until he spent his seed in my mouth. I don't think he even considered returning the favour - he just got up and left."

"Disgusting." Lily snapped. Of all erotic practices, that was the most unspeakably taboo for the drow - no male in his right mind would ever dare suggest that a female perform such an act. "Such audacity! You should have slain him where he stood."

"Well," Marséna said with a wry smile, "I didn't quite manage to kill him, but I think I put him in his place. My point, though, is that I'm a forthright woman, and I hate deception or having my emotions manipulated. In the end, I'm just a simple peasant girl and probably too naive, but I don't find it difficult to grow fond of others, especially when they repay my trust. You fought with distinction by our side, as if you were another Sister at the Order, so I can confidently say that I trust you more than many people I made the mistake of bedding...I simply wouldn't tell you that you belonged with us and that we all still cared for you if it weren't true."

"So? What good does is your affection to me?" said Lily. Her voice was cool and measured, as usual, though she had long since ceased mentally defying Marséna. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she needed reassurances.

"We're a sisterhood, Lily and I think you drow understand more than most the importance of the bonds between women. Even if in your society women must compete for power or wealth, aren't you grateful for moments of solace with those women you can trust?"

"I suppose there is some sense in your argument..." the dark elven woman mused, before draining her goblet of mosswine. Onstage, the famous arachnid trainer, Zelenza the Delver, was entrancing her audience with two massive Sword Spiders who deftly cut geometric shapes out of sheets of metal on command. "But, I think that I should, as you humans would say, 'sleep on it'."

"I understand," Marséna nodded, placing a conciliatory hand on Lily's, "there's always a place for you at the Order."

"How moving." Lily noted, with only moderate sarcasm.

"I...I should be going now. Is there anything else I can do for you?" the paladin inquired. The fierce Sword Spiders on stage were beginning to make her uneasy.

"Tell Virginia not to worry." came the curt reply.

"All right," Marséna concluded, rising from her chair. "And thanks."

"On what grounds?"

"I'm honoured that it was you who took care of Virginia. You make her very happy..."

"Away with you, girl," Lily interrupted wearily - she had no time for the syrupy effusions that many surface dwellers, for some unfathomable reason, saw as an integral part of female bonding, "before your fortune fades."

***

Shesayne closed her eyes and imagined a singing waterfall amidst a sea of rocks and wild flowers. Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly to steady the racing pulse of her heart. She stood alone in front of that familiar door in a run-down corner of the moon elf district of the Hive. That door which she had opened and shut so many times, only this time, she was without Min by her side. Shesayne, however, had decided to finally confront her past, her life and her future head-on alone and as an adult. She could no longer pretend that her mother, the only biological family she had ever known, did not exist. Not even after her mother had unceremoniously ejected Min and her from the cramped, but oddly cosy, little room Shesayne so desperately hoped to see again.

She had dressed for the occasion and wore a tasteful cobalt-blue dress cut in a very dignified, but elegant elven style. Aerylle had been kind enough to loan it to her and had done her very best to make Shesayne as presentable as possible as elven custom dictated. In truth, Shesayne felt silly and over-dressed, but it felt like ages since she had last walked up those worn, wooden steps into the Cranium Rat infested building she had once called home.

Pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts and mentally formulate some sort of excuse for not turning up sooner, Shesayne brushed back a strand of coal-black hair from her cheek and prepared herself for the reckoning. To have her short hair, normally held up by a comb, fall freely around her pointed ears, as elven modesty required, was unfamiliar enough, but, in that moment, she was assailed by an uneasiness that made her hand tremble as she rapped the wooden door. Her first attempt was weak, so that she could barely hear the echo in the apartment. Shesayne swallowed, paused and knocked again, this time with determination.

A silence ensued, followed by the sound of light footsteps. Shesayne took a step back and braced herself against the inevitable tirade. In her mind's eye, her mother, weary and disapproving as always, had already opened the door and was berating her for being a thief, a layabout, a loose girl and a disgrace. It was thus with immense and relieved surprise that Shesayne realised that it was not her mother to slide the door ajar, but a familiar, yet rather unexpected face.

"Bells of the Nine Hells!" the petite half-elf exclaimed sharply. She immediately recognised the elegant, haughtily pretty, porcelain-skinned and raven-haired girl who now peered at her, with as at least as much surprise, from the doorway. "Essie! What...what in Corellon's name are you doing here?"

"Oh...oh, good grief, Shesayne! You frightened me." Essinea whispered softly, her soft, pink lips parted in wonder as she contemplated her former classmate. They had spent much time as social enemies in the same, dilapidated civic school. Essinea had always been something of a model student, persevering in the preservation of her elven heritage in the face of the bubbling cauldron of Sigil's melting pot. As a consequence, Shesayne had loathed the moon elven girl's double standard: Essinea was a sly one, and, although on the surface she only accepted the courtship of the sons and daughters of respectable, full-blooded elven families, she had managed to sneak in tawdry adventures with Min without her parents ever finding out. But that was of secondary importance, in the precise moment when Shesayne's accusing eyes met Essinea's, the only thing the half-elf wanted to know was what exactly her smug former classmate was doing in her mother's house.

"Uh...hello and greetings...Essie." Shesayne managed, fidgeting uncontrollably with the sleeves of her dress.

"Oh, you!" Essinea gushed, with the sort of enthusiasm that aroused immediate suspicion in Shesayne. "Come, will you not greet me?"

"Yeah...right, sorry, how rude of me." Shesayne mumbled and leaned forward to press her lips against Essinea's. The moon elf was as infuriatingly pretty as always: slender, soft, fine-featured with the silkiest, most fragrant midnight black hair Shesayne had ever - grudgingly - admired. "But, Essie...sorry if I'm rude or abrupt or something, but what in the Abyss are you doing in my mother's home?"

Essinea paused, surreptitiously turned around into the apartment's hallway, before quickly turning back to face Shesayne, "Apologies, I am not being much of a host, please come in." Essinea held the door opened and Shesayne, still numbed with surprise, stepped inside. It was then that the half-elven girl realised that Essinea was wearing a finely woven, casual white dress that moulded itself perfectly to her sweet, subtle curves. Shesayne's mother had once made one just like it. "Millidia, aeilfei sii ley?" Essinea called softly down the hallway. Shesayne froze: Millidia was her mother's first name, and Essinea had just called her using a very intimate grammatical mood in the Moon Elven tongue, usually reserved for close friends and family.

The door to the kitchen, at the far end of the narrow hallway, opened. A wave of warmth and the smell of baking spiced nectar-biscuits filled the air. The familiar dull, red glow from the stove illuminated the corridor with a cosy, almost soothing backlighting. There, by the opened door, was Shesayne's mother, clad in a very flattering green and gold robe. Shesayne had never seen her so radiantly happy, for her features reflected all the dignified beauty of elven womanhood, but they were simultaneously rejuvenated, without the ashen weariness of years gone by.

"Shesayina...?" Millidia whispered incredulously, instinctively reaching for the affectionate diminutive of her daughter's name.

Shesayne nodded, eyes downcast. She did not dare meet what she presumed to be her mother's accusing gaze. But there was to be no stern reprimand or sharp words. Her mother simply approached, almost with trepidation, and threw her arms around her daughter. There was something deeply satisfying in that embrace, a maternal warmth that Shesayne had all but forgotten in her haste to forget a life she had once thought she could definitively put behind her. Now, however, she could do nothing but nestle her head against the comforting, gently pulsing softness of her mother's breast and inhale the fresh, floral smell of her perfume - that aroma that always reminded her of home.

"You silly, silly girl..." Millidia whispered, her voice choked with emotion as she planted a soft kiss on Shesayne's raven-black hair. "A mother can never renounce her beloved daughter, no matter how angry she is...you ought to have come sooner." She spoke with a fluidly musical Moon Elven accent, as if the harshness of Sigil's lingua franca were alien to her delicate tongue.

"You can speak to me in Elven." Shesayne whispered, almost inaudibly, letting her mother rock her gently in her arms. Those were the first words of Moon Elven she had spoken in a long time, but the sound of the words was natural, as if they stirred from deep inside her, finally ready to burst out once the taboo was broken. Gone were the days when Shesayne pretended not to speak the language in protest at the contempt with which she was treated by full-blood moon elves.

"Shesayina, my daughter, you have gladdened my heart by coming here. Now come," Millidia said, blinking back a stray tear, "Essinea, help me set the table."

They proceeded wordlessly into the kitchen. Shesayne recognised everything: the embroidered fabrics which livened up the cramped, but spotlessly clean chamber, the transparent jars full of spices and the elven preserves expertly prepared by Millidia, the ceramic tray full of steaming, nut-brown biscuits. Essinea quickly and efficiently set the table with flower-patterned plates, cups and a pot of fresh herbal tea, before graciously motioning to Shesayne that she could make herself at home.

"I've stopped thieving, mother," Shesayne began, almost awkwardly, as she sank into her chair, "and I'm living with this nice grey elf girl, a librarian, you know, a woman of culture and education." She was still nervous and her dextrous fingers absentmindedly traced the contours of her plate.

"Is she your lover?" Millidia inquired, almost expectantly, as she set down a plate full of biscuits and took a seat by Essinea's side.

"No...no, more like a sister. But, mother," the half-elf probed, unable to resist her burning curiosity, "why is Essie here?"

"Perhaps you should ask her yourself." Millidia replied, smiling gently as she took Essinea's delicate, slender hand into her own.

Essinea nodded and blushed, "I decided to become Millida's apprentice shortly after you left home. I always had a passion for weaving, so I decided to give it a try. For that, I remain thankful to the Blessed Lady Goldheart, for She led me to find my happiness with my mistress."

Shesayne's hand slipped, causing her plate to clatter loudly against the table. She felt numb inside - cold and utterly stunned. "Mother...you mean, you and Essie...you..."

"Oh, come, Shesayina," Millidia said, laughing softly as she raised a hand to stroke Essinea's hair, "I never knew you could be such a prude. I am still a young woman and I have my desires. It was most fortunate that I found love as well as sensual satisfaction in my wonderful Essinea. At first, times were hard and we had to make do with selling perhaps a single tapestry every twelve days, but now...now things are so much better. Essinea is most talented with the loom, she has great artistic vision. Now that we work together, I can finally make the traditional centre-piece tapestries and ceremonial gowns I always wanted, if only just to show the moon elves of Sigil that our culture can still live and bloom..."

"We are thinking of renting a shop soon." Essinea interjected excitedly.

"Well, my love," Millidia said modestly, "let us not be too hasty, we still have much saving up to do, but, yes, that would be our dream."

"It's nice to hear business is going well." Shesayne said, still a little stunned by the revelation of her mother's relationship with Essinea. In the end, though, it made sense. Ever since she had fallen pregnant with Shesayne, Millidia had forced herself to forego romantic company to concentrate on her daughter's upbringing. There had also been the problem of the stigma of bearing a half-elven child, but attitudes, even in the more conservative circles of elven society, were beginning to change - if slowly. Nevertheless, Shesayne suspected that the only reason Essinea's parents had allowed her to take up her apprenticeship with Millidia was that they had known that she would not have had to live with a half-elf and a tiefling.

Essinea poured some tea for Shesayne while the half-elf contemplated how to bring her mother up to speed with recent events. But it was Millidia who unexpectedly broke the silence, "How is Min?"

"Huh? Oh, Min's doing really well, she's with the grey elven librarian I mentioned."

"Good for her." Millidia said, without a hint of irony. Falling for Essinea meant that she had a new appreciation for the subtleties of love and affection. She now understood her daughter's fervent, almost fanatical devotion to Min. "But next time, invite them both to visit. I would very much like to see Min again."

Under the circumstances, Shesayne was beginning to think that something in her mother had changed forever. Not only had she always been critical of her daughter's relationship with Min, but there was simply something out of place in Millidia's demeanour. Quite simply, Shesayne had never seen her so serenely happy. "She still looks out for me, she always will," Shesayne said, gingerly taking a pleasantly warm biscuit from the platter, "but a few days ago, I sort of realised that it didn't make any sense to run from the past. When you die, and it can happen any damn day in Sigil, the past is all there is. I guess, what I came here to say was that I'm sorry and that I'm still proud to be your daughter." Taking a defiant bite out of the biscuit, Shesayne peered into a faded reflection of herself in the teacup. She did not want to have to look her mother in the eye. Every time she did, she saw a fragment of her past self and that made her want to cry, scream and hold her mother till the stars burned out, all in equal measure.

"When I was your age," Millidia said, staring diverting her gaze pensively to the ceiling, "there was no place in Sigil I could call home. A priestess saw that I was with child and wandering the city, so she lodged me in a small room in her temple, which is where I gave birth to you. It was lonely, but it had always been lonely. Of the last days of my homeworld, I remember only fire and ash and hard, bitter wind. The Red Dragons - may their names be erased from memory - had laid our cities and towers to ruin, so many of us fled through dimensional portals to seek a new life elsewhere. That story has been told many times. You, my daughter, were conceived my first night in Sigil. A human man in gleaming armour told a lost and lonely elven girl she was beautiful...in broken Moon Elven he said he had somewhere warm and soft to stay. Since those refugees who could not be housed in temples were already camped out on the streets, I was glad to accept his offer..."

"Mother, you don't have to..." Shesayne interrupted, sensing her mother's unease. Essinea looked on, sullen and powerless to fully heal her love's pain.

But Millidia pressed on, "He was charming and handsome, so I let myself be plied. It hurt when he entered me, but I pretended to enjoy it, just to make him happy. Weeks later, when I realised I was to be a mother, I was overjoyed, even if I knew it was going to be a half-elf. He smiled false promises and the next day, he left - back to his homeworld, a Crystal Sphere called Krynn. He was a knight," Millidia spat the term out with venomous irony, "a Solamnic Knight and his order's motto was 'my honour is my life'. I wanted a better life for you, Shesayina, and I thought that Min was going to treat you like your father had treated me - like a plaything. But she did not – in the end, I suspect she had more honour than that knight. It did not take me too long to realise how much she loved you and for that, I wish to apologise."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Shesayne chirped, pleased that the tone of conversation was lightening considerably, "she always liked you and..."

"We were intimate." Millidia said matter-of-factly. "Just once, here in the kitchen. I...I needed it." It was Millidia's turn to brace herself for Shesayne's reaction.

"Well, well, well, that hardly surprises me, mother, Min has her charm," Shesayne mumbled, forcing herself to smile - she was going to murder Min the moment she saw her, "can't blame you, really." That part was honest. The half-elf knew how seductively manipulative Min could be, so there was no point in being angry at her mother. On the contrary, that revelation was precisely the sort of mother-daughter chat they should always have had. Shesayne only wished that it had not been on those terms.

Millidia breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank the Moonbow, I was afraid you would be angry at me. Now that the past is all out in the open, we should put it behind us. Perhaps you would like to stay for dinner, Essinea is an excellent cook."

Essinea blushed and nodded demurely, "It would be a pleasure to have you stay."

"Great! It's settled then." Shesayne concluded. As decidedly weird as the situation was, there simply was no place like home.

The meal turned out to be outstanding as promised. Essinea had turned out an exceptional savoury dandelion tart and Millidia, eager to spoil her daughter after so much time, opened a good bottle of Ossan Mead to accompany a simple dessert of creamed blackberries and mint. Throughout it all, Shesayne was struck by the spontaneity of Essinea's affection for her mother. It pleased the half-elf to see Millidia laughing, smiling and rediscovering the joys of youth again. She had been little more than a child when she bore Shesayne, so now it was only fair that she have a second chance at a family life.

So, Shesayne made a promise, both to herself and to her mother: to visit often and to bring Min, Aerylle and Astrid. But it was Astrid in particular who fascinated Millidia. The moment Shesayne had said that she was in a relationship with a mage, Millidia's eyes had lit up. Then, when Shesayne had let slip that Astrid was a great and knowledgeable admirer of elven culture as well, her mother had nodded with such enthusiasm that the half-elf realised that it would only be a matter of time before Millidia started dropping hints that they should formally be bonded at the Temple of Hanali.

The evening passed amiably and, by the end of it, as she embraced Essinea and her mother in turn at the doorway, Shesayne felt as though a great burden had been lifted. She would no longer be haunted by the bitter mixture of guilt and resentment she felt towards her mother. To be sure, they would start arguing again the moment Shesayne turned up in her dragon-scale patterned bandeau and undergarment-short leggings, but the foundations had been set. They could only upwards from there.

***

That night, Millidia and Essinea made love. Slow, traditionally elven kisses and caresses became more passionate, hungry licks that sought out sensitive, pointed ears and turgid nipples, leaving them glistening in the firelight. Loving hands explored smooth, lust-moistened nether lips while two bodies melded into a sensual dance. Then Essinea, smiling coyly, spread her thighs and Millidia settled atop the younger woman, so that they lay locked in a sweet nether kiss, one sex pressed lustily against the other.

They flowed together for what seemed like an age, thrusting and grinding their passion-slick pussies together – building friction and desire with soft, airy moans filling the air. It was only when Essinea, wild-eyed with desire, her calf pulled taut against Millidia's shoulder, toes pointed in agonised anticipation, begged her lover to bring her to climax that their dance of love ceased. Millidia licked the sweat from Essinea's belly and buried her face in the hot, sweetly juicing blossom of the younger elf's sex. After taking her pleasure, Essinea made sure Millidia was comfortably propped up on some soft pillows before inviting her lover to recline and gently working her hand, slick with fragrant rose oil, into the older woman's sex.

Then the light was dimmed and Millidia fell asleep, naked, exhausted and gloriously happy, under crisp, clean sheets with Essinea snuggled up against her breasts. That night, Millidia dreamt and the memory was as fresh as the encounter had been one cold night, not too long ago -

Min sauntered languidly into the kitchen, her ember-red hair falling about her sharply beautiful face like a burning cowl. She wore only a blouse, buttons half-undone, that hung loosely around her lithe form and clutched a rectangular cedarwood box in her hands.

"Can I help you?" Millidia inquired dryly. She was washing blueberries in a basin of icy cold water. The fire beneath the stove had filled the chamber with a homely warmth, but the elven woman felt cold. Not because of the water that ran between her fingers, but at the crushing loneliness of an existence she would never have wished for herself.

"I need some water." the tiefling remarked in that rich, sensual drawl of hers. Even if Millidia had made it clear that Min was a guest - and generally honoured her as such - to say that there was tension between the two was a gross understatement. Millidia was never short of a sharp comment at Min's loose morals and questionable character.

"What for?"

"Item maintenance." Min replied. Her demeanour reminded Millidia of a bored cat.

"Hot or cold?"

"Cold." the tiefling said, sauntering casually to where Millidia was standing. The elven woman looked tired. Nevertheless, she was remarkably pretty. Everything about her was fine, delicate and seemingly fashioned out of porcelain. She wore her coal-black hair long and it was in perfect contrast with the elegant simplicity of her white robe.

"Just a moment." Millidia whispered as she drained the blueberries and set them aside in a ceramic bowl. Min was behind her. She could smell the incense-like aroma of the tiefling's skin, feel firm nipples against her back.

"Take your time." Min said amiably. She enjoyed watching the deft, maternal motions of Millidia's fingers. The way every household task was handled perfectly by those smooth, white hands.

"What is in the box?" said Millidia the moment she saw Min lay the item on the kitchen counter.

"An olisbos." the tiefling responded indifferently. The olisbos' enchantment was druidic and thus required tending to, almost as if it were a plant. The evening was young and Min intended to have the item fully charged up for Shesayne, a cute apprentice sorceress whose name Min could never quite remember, and, in all probability, Shesayne again. That, or she would just forget about the dildo altogether and simply fuck them with her hand. There was no fun whatsoever in planning erotic encounters in too much detail.

"Ladies should not use such things." Millidia noted sternly. Min's presence was warm. The tiefling girl exuded a raw, passionate energy.

"Yeah, but it's the kind of thing that, if it didn't exist, some sorceress with too much time on her hands would've had to invent it." Min observed. Millidia had paused, staring quietly at the kitchen counter and at the basin of glistening, washed blueberries. Their sweet, woody aroma filled the air.

Min brushed her hand against Millidia's side, just to gauge the elven woman's reaction. Millidia reflexively bit her bottom lip and shifted nervously. The soft, elegant curve of her bottom inadvertently slid against Min's bare thigh. The material against the tiefling's pale, red-tinted skin was deliciously sensual. All Min could hear was Millidia's quickening breathing and the rhythmic, metallic dripping of water in the washbasin. Very tentatively, Min traced her long, slender fingers along the curve of the older woman's hip. Millidia closed her delicate, almond eyes and concentrated on the movement of Min's hand.

It was not long before the tiefling trailed down her thigh to find the hem of her robe. Millidia remained silent and leaned forward slightly against the counter, pretending to inspect her blueberries. Gaining in confidence and audacity, Min lifted up the hem of the older woman's robe. Millidia sighed as she felt Min's fingers, tenderly yet expertly trailing over the bare, smooth skin of her thigh, before reaching the curve of her bottom. Min's nipples were stiff in her blouse, Millidia could feel them pebble against her back.

Min swallowed and felt her sex tighten and pulse with desire. Millidia reminded her so much of Shesayne, but in the full bloom of womanhood. A single finger, with its crimson fingernail, gingerly caressed the smooth, hairless outer lips of Millidia's plump sex. She was wet. Min felt a knot of need surge in her chest: Shesayne's mother was wet for her. The tip of her finger was coated in warm, gooey arousal. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Millidia parted her thighs, her bare feet gliding soundlessly over the carpet. Min drew her hand upwards, to cup Millidia's bottom - the valley between those two supple, subtly rounded globes was tight and inviting. Min slipped her nectar-slick finger at the base of the elven woman's bottom. The tiefling pressed against the warm, tightly knotted rosebud - Millidia's nether portal. It took just a little, casual coaxing and the lightest pressure and, before Millidia knew it, the tip of Min's finger was inside her.

"Oh!" Millidia exclaimed. She felt warmth course through her veins as need pulsed deep within her sex. If Min wanted her, she was ready.

Min withdrew her hand from Millidia's bottom and lasciviously licked her moistened finger. She tasted tulips and slightly salty fruit combined with musk and autumn nuts - delicious. She wanted to spend all night with her face buried between Millidia's thighs, until her mouth was cloyed by the subtle sweetness of the elven woman's pussy and the glorious earthiness of her bottom.

"Take me..." Millidia began. Her heart was beating so hard she could hardly hear herself speak. She had not made love to anyone since Shesayne's birth. Her breathless request was suffocated by Min's lush, sensuous lips as the tiefling leaned forward, pressed close to Millidia, her tongue duelling hungrily with elven woman's. Min's hands were urgent; deft fingers pulled Millidia's robe down until the offending garment pooled around her waist. The white fabric fell apart to reveal small, conical breasts with large, rubbery, dark pink nipples. Min felt a surge of boiling, uncontrollable passion - Millidia's breasts were so erotic that just the sight of them, high and aristocratic with perhaps the most beautiful nipples the tiefling had ever seen, sent her blood racing like molten magma.

"Take me...ah!" Millidia gasped as Min broke the kiss to lavish her desperately sensitive, pointed ear with long, wet licks. The elven woman knew that she had gone beyond what was appropriate for her, but, in all its wanton perversity, the situation felt so profoundly right. Finally, a beautiful, dangerously exotic woman like Min was admiring her. She was no longer a mere weaver, a mother, an outcast for producing a half-elven daughter, but a flesh-and-blood woman who could still fill others with passion.

Min nodded continued lapping hungrily at Millidia's ear. The tiefling's fingers trailed over the elven woman's taut, flat belly to cup those glorious breasts. In Min's eyes, Millidia was evidence, if any were needed, that breasts did not have to be big or rounded to be sensual - Millidia's were firm and feather-soft until the tiefling's quick fingers reached the nipples which were stiff, warm and rubbery, like a budding plum blossom. Min clasped a single nipple between her fingers and applied firm pressure, gently tugging it outwards. Millida bit her limp and whimpered. She felt her sex ache with need, tight and almost uncomfortably moist between her thighs.

"Uh...Miss," Min began a little awkwardly, before being interrupted by Millidia's lips which drew her into a searing, needy kiss, "...Miss, when you say, uhm...'take me', d'you, like, want me to fuck you?"

"Yes! Please." the moon elven woman replied, flushed with lust and guilty pleasure. She was in no mood to reprimand Min for her crude vocabulary. She wanted the tiefling inside her.

Min scrambled for the cedarwood box, only to feel Millidia's hand squeeze resolutely around her forearm, "No," she whispered, almost bashfully, "your hand." Without thinking, the elven woman reached and picked out a bottle of orange blossom oil she used in baking and handed it to Min. She then turned around and lifted herself up on the counter, hiked up her robe and spread her thighs, blushing furiously at her own wantonness. Min watched in eager anticipation. Millidia's pussy was sodden and looked marvellous: light-pink as a fair tulip and richly glistening in glorious nectar.

Min wet her lips, uncorked the bottle of orange blossom oil and poured a liberal quantity on her right hand, taking care to ensure that it was well lubricated, even if, in the tiefling's estimation, Millidia didn't need it. A single burning glance of long-repressed desire was exchanged between the two women, before Min approached, graceful and sensual as a panther on the prowl, and pressed her lips against Millidia's, devouring the elven woman's mouth with burning passion. Millidia spread her thighs further: her plump sex felt hot, swollen and exposed.

Millidia's toes curled with sweet tension as Min's wet, breathy kisses moved down the sensitive skin of her throat to her breasts. The tiefling wasted no time in capturing a beautifully engorged nipple between her teeth and suckling. It was a revelation: Millidia's soft, mewling cry made Min's heart soar with joy. Lush, wine-red lips wrapped hungrily around Millidia's turgid peak, while Min's hand, glistening in oil, found the entrance to the elven woman's sex. Millidia gasped the moment she felt two fingers delicately spreading the inner lips of her sex and slipping in. There was no resistance - Millidia was yielding, so that Min could add a third and a fourth finger with very little effort.

"There...yes...soon." Millidia cooed, lovingly running her fingers through Min's silky, ember-red hair. She felt her sex tighten: every single movement of Min's fingers was divine, effortlessly parting the inner walls of her canal to make room for her thumb, so that finally, the tiefling's hand began to move inside her. They flowed together, Millidia easing herself wantonly on Min's thrusting fist. Millidia's belly tensed - her sex was aflame, a glory synthesis of dull pain and searing pleasure. It had been so long that she was no longer used to it, but now, with slow, patient thrusts, Min was making her rediscover those happier days when she had been the prettiest girl on her street, admired and envied in equal measure. Min's body worshipped hers: she could feel the tiefling's lips and tongue hungry and lusty against her nipple, the gentle probing of wondrously skilled fingers against that most sensitive spot deep inside her - her Hanali's Heart. Each touch of the tiefling's fingers against that most sensitive spot evoked a jolt at the base of Millidia's spine, a little series of latent climaxes that would soon be unleashed.

Teasingly, Min bit down gently on Millidia's nipple before giving her hand a sharp twist inside the elven woman's overstuffed sex. Millidia gave a high-pitched cry and thrust her hips forward. Min knew that her lover was near; the air was heavy with the smell or orange blossoms, blooming tulips and spicy cinnamon. The tiefling's fingers caressed that sweet spot deep inside Millidia's sex, building heat and liquid tension. It was a matter of a few moments before Millida felt her sex begin to pulse, pressing down on Min's invading hand. Fiery passion filled the elven woman's belly and flowed, hot and sparkling, up her spine. She gasped and dug her fingers into Min's scalp, before she came, exhaling in a long, ragged breaths, her belly pulled taut with exertion as she thrust herself, hard, against the tiefling's hand.

"Thank you...thank you, my lovely Min." Millidia sighed. Min smiled and enjoyed Millidia's coital spasms around her hand before finally withdrawing it, slick with warm nectar, from the elven woman's sex.

"Yeah, glad you liked it, Miss." Min replied, a little embarrassed, but still very much aroused. Her nipples drilled against the fabric of her blouse, her sex felt swollen and ached with need.

Millidia smiled, dismounted from the kitchen counter and knelt in front of Min, trailing her hands up the tiefling's bare, lithely muscular thigh to the hem of her blouse. "Maybe it would be more comfortable if you leaned back on the table." Millidia invited. She was deeply intrigued by the spicy-musky cinnamon aroma of Min's sex.

"Miss..." Min whispered, "you don't have to..."

"Please, don't worry," Millidia replied, easing up Min's blouse and parting the tiefling's thighs to reveal a deep, red thatch of down and the rich, dark red sex beneath. "I am rather good at this."

"Yeah, well...ah!" the tiefling sighed the moment she felt Millidia's lips press against the apex of her sex - she felt the tip of the elven woman's tongue land with pinpoint accuracy against the stiff little pearl of her clit, "If you insist..."

***

Inside Quarters at the Order of the Radiant Path, a war-council had formed. Seated around the kitchen table, Virginia, Marséna, Syf and Friyya pondered their next move against Civic Security. In Virginia's mind, that meant, first and foremost, making sure Isolde was in no position to hurt anyone else. But the facts weighed heavily on her mind as she mulled the situation over in the dull light of the oil lamps. There could well come a time when it would be her choice whether Isolde lived or died and that decision she knew she was not ready to take. Isolde may have threatened her and those Virginia loved with death, but she was still her sister. Then, of course, there was the issue of Lily, who had not yet returned.

"Are we agreed then?" Syf said with her typical self-assurance. "Shall we take the initiative?"

"Good idea," Marséna chimed, "my blade thirsts for hobgoblin blood."

"As usual," Friyya interrupted, "Marséna's deep strategic thinking would get us all killed. In this situation, I suspect that there is more than meets the eye. Allow me to explain: Isolde escaped with the khaasta mercenary and we all assumed it was to report back. But Civic Security has said they have no record of the matter. Then, there is the odd case of why someone of such a low rank would have such an extensive armed escort. Virginia told us that Isolde probably joined Civic Security a year, or so, ago which would mean that she would still, even if highly competent and well-connected, be in the rank-and-file. Moreover, it makes no sense to hold Shesayne. I checked her over personally and she had not been raped, nor had she been asked to perform favours for Isolde. Why take a low-level prisoner to a fortified hidehout? The answer is, someone knew that we would come..."

"Yes, Isolde did, she set the whole ruse up." Marséna interjected. Friyya's reasoning was, in her mind, elliptical at best.

"Well, at least you're a good blademistress, my dear," Friyya snapped dismissively, before returning to her theory, "Isolde could not have known we were coming unless: first she was sure that we knew that she was on to us - and this we discovered only through Verden, Shesayne's friend, talking to Min. Second, she must have known about Shesayne's relationship with Marséna, which made our rescue of her that much more urgent. Third, she must have known that Astrid would survive and run into someone who knew us."

"So?" Marséna challenged sullenly. She, quite frankly, envied Friyya's superior mind.

"So, Isolde, hypothetically speaking, knew about all these variables and about all of us."

"She was very bright," Virginia noted, shifting uncomfortably in her seat at the memories that seethed in her mind, "maybe she just connected the dots."

"Possible," Friyya said, with a certain smug satisfaction, "but implausible. For two reasons: the only way she could have learned about the inter-connectedness of all of our lives was by observing an event when all those implicated were together."

"Elyszara's party!" Marséna pounced.

"Good girl." Friyya noted with sweet condescension, "But the invitations to that were written and distributed only to the various guests. Which means, quite simply, that someone must have been so close to Elyszara as to deduce that piece of information. But, more importantly, Virginia had a vision before leaving with Marséna to Mareterra. That vision, essentially, impelled her to go. The moment they left, two things happened: first, Verden came over to pay Shesayne a visit and, second, Marséna decided to end her romantic relationships with Shesayne. 'A' leads to 'B' which leads to 'C', all very linear in retrospect, but I can't imagine Isolde, no matter how bright, coming up with all of that and implementing it in a flawlessly."

"Then you're saying that there is someone else who has contrived this plot?" Virginia said excitedly. Friyya's reasoning, as always, appeared to make perfect sense.

"Precisely." Friyya noted. "And I would venture to say whoever it was is clever enough to know that we will be coming. So this is the plan..."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted Friyya's presentation.

"Come in!" Syf called. The door swung open and Ithunn strode in, her long, blonde braid still damp from the baths.

"I take it this was your idea." Friyya said, turning her accusing gaze to Syf.

"We need as extensive a force as we can muster." Syf replied, motioning for Ithunn to come in. "I give you my personal guarantee that Ithunn will make a fine shield maiden and will be charged, as is customary, with defending the squad's archer."

"How interesting." Friyya snarled sarcastically. Her melt-water blue eyes, usually the delirious fantasy of novices and paladins alike, were twisted with palpable irritation.

"I would be honoured to defend you with my life, Sister," Ithunn said breathlessly - she had traversed half of the Temple running to arrive to the meeting on time, "and I hope that any personal issues between us can be set aside for the good of the Order."

"Fine, fine, sit down..." Friyya relented. Ithunn hastened to comply and drew up a chair to take her place by Marséna's side. "As I was saying," Friyya continued, "allow me to suggest this plan. We obviously cannot afford a frontal attack on Civic Security installation, so we have to lure Isolde out. Which means seizing her the moment she leaves the Civic Security building to go home. The best way to do this, of course, is to avoid sending in someone who is a paladin of the Order and can be recognised as such. I think Min would be the best candidate..."

"Enough!" Marséna growled, all of a sudden, slamming her hand against the table. "You're too liberal with the lives of others! I would rather give my own life than let an innocent be caught in the middle of what is between us, who are sworn to sisterhood and bound to Virginia, and Isolde. Min and Lily have shown themselves to be more honourable and courageous than we would ever have given them credit for if we met them in the street. We are daughters of the Blessed Maiden and that means we place the lives of other women above our own." Syf and Ithunn, much to Friyya's fury, nodded approvingly.

"Fine. Then I propose Elyszara." Friyya countered. A hushed, startled silence followed. Ithunn and Syf looked nervously at each other while Marséna and Virginia could only stare, dumbfounded, at their Sister's declaration.

"I hardly think she would be of much use - I mean, she is a lovely girl, but no warrior..." Virginia began, as diplomatically as possible.

"She made it clear to me that she wanted to serve the Vigilant Maiden in some way." Friyya remarked calmly. "Her mother is a mighty and respected vassal of our Goddess and Elyszara has shown both willingness and determination. Moreover, Isolde has never seen her face up close. She will, doubtless, be prepared for magical disguises, but, paradoxically, we could fool her with the right selection of clothes and cosmetics..."

"Always clothes and cosmetics, right, my sweet little Friyya." Marséna said with an affected, girlish whine.

"Enough, you two." Syf interjected firmly. "What you say makes sense, but we could not do it too close to Civic Security headquarters, we would need to ambush Isolde halfway between her home and workplace."

"Correct." Friyya said, clasping her hands together in satisfaction. "Which leads us to our master-plan. This is our combat squad. If Lily and Min want to join, the more the better. Virg told me that Astrid is willing to aid us, too, so that means we have a fine mage on our side as well. Elyszara will act as a decoy and distract Isolde. If she is a sharp as Virg says, she'll know something is amiss soon after the first exchange. At which point, we move to surround her. I will take position with Ithunn on the upper storey of a building overlooking the scene so, if need be, I can provide missile cover. Our objective would be to bring Isolde into custody before reinforcements arrive."

"Can you fire a non-lethal shot?" Virginia inquired. As much as she felt Isolde had to pay for what she had done to Shesayne, she had no intention of seeing her sister die.

"Certainly." Friyya said reassuringly. "You can count on me."

"So, is it settled?" Syf inquired, her authoritative voice echoing throughout the kitchen. "If anyone has any misgivings, let her speak now." That was a rhetorical question. Syf knew that the bond of sisterhood that had been forged at the Order was stronger than adamantine. There was not a single woman in that room who would not have died for her sister-at-arms. In Syf's mind, that was all that counted - soldiers in armies fought together because they worked together; yet at the Order, her Sisters fought because they had lived, loved and grown into womanhood together. There was no debate on which bond was stronger.

"Will Lily be joining us?" Virginia said, more to Marséna than anyone else.

"I spoke to her this morning." Marséna replied. Sensing Virginia's worry, she took the blonde paladin's hand into her own and held it tight. "She has no ill-will towards you or anyone else here. I think she just needs some time to herself. But, I for one, don't doubt her loyalty. Even if she had every reason to be angry at me, I got the feeling she won't abandon Virginia in her hour of need."

"Good. So we have a plan." Virginia said. As squad leader, it was now her prerogative to impart orders. "We shall meet here tomorrow evening for the final call to arms, gather our equipment, finalise our plans and then set out the next day. Isobel assured me that we would have her tacit support, as well as full access to the armoury. For now, however, I suggest we rest and think things over. Friyya, I expect a full tactical plan based on the most recent map of Sigil you can find in the library before our meeting tomorrow."

"Understood." Friyya nodded.

"So be it. Remember, Sisters, the Goddess' blessing is with us always. Have faith and those who persecute us will fall before our righteous indignation." For the first time, Virginia sounded like she was ready to lead her troops into a real battle. Not one of those present would have thought twice before following her into the Abyss.

***

"Who do you think it is?" Syf asked the moment she and Friyya returned to their room. She had been intrigued by Friyya's theories and, finally, it all seemed to make a little more sense, except, of course, for the phantom puppetmaster who was presumably at the centre of the dark plot involving Shesayne.

"Frankly, I don't know." the auburn-haired paladin replied as she began to undress. Her movements were peerlessly graceful as she undid the buttons to her tunic, folded it up and reached for her pristine, white nightgown. Syf never got tired of admiring her lover's beauty. Friyya, however, was always especially gorgeous after showing off her tactical brilliance. The self-assurance and eloquence with which she spoke always quickened the blood in Syf's veins.

"Not even a guess?" Syf probed, tugging off her tunic in one clean, efficient motion, and setting it next to Friyya's on the clothes chest at the foot of the bed.

"If I had to hazard a theory, I would say a dragon, a demon or a lich. Something of brilliant intellect and boundless malice."

"Dragon..." Syf said in wonder as she stood, naked, leaning on the desk opposite the bed.

"Is this the dragon-slayer fantasy again, my sweet Syf?" Friyya teased as she curled up on the sheets with a silver-framed, handheld mirror to carefully scrutinise her face and teeth for any blemishes or imperfections.

"I just think it would be a great testament to my skill and to my devotion to the Order if I were to slay a dragon." Syf said, a little defensively. "Then we could liberate its hoard for the benefit of our hospital and orphanage..."

"And liberate all the captive maidens, too, I presume..." Friyya muttered with gentle sarcasm.

"You know I have eyes only for you, my love." Syf said, smiling gently. Her piercing blue eyes remained as alert and unmoving as always, but Friyya had learned that there was a great tenderness that lay in Syf. An almost maternal instinct to protect the weak and punish the guilty.

"Naturally, who can blame you?" said Friyya with mock-arrogance. "Anyway, not all species of dragons capture maidens."

"Oh?" As far as Syf was concerned, the only type of dragon worth knowing was the one into which she was about to thrust her sword.

"The obsession with virgins is confined primarily to Red Dragons, though some Greens have been known to abduct elven women, whom they prize as a delicacy."

"Sometimes I really think you should have become a priestess," Syf sighed, shaking her head, "you read too many books."

"If I were a priestess, I would not be able to serve at your side." Friyya rose from the bed and set aside the mirror. Syf was irresistible, leaning casually against the desk, her long, slender thighs taut with athletic muscle, her belly flat, hard and chiselled, her breasts high, aristocratic and gracefully small. "I was just going to the bathing chamber..." she began tentatively as she noticed Syf's eyes fixed upon her.

"Friyya," Syf interrupted, her sternly beautiful visage as outwardly cool and emotionless as always. "Are you happy?"

"There was a time, my beloved," Friyya said pensively, "when I thought that being sent to the Order was the latest and most sadistic of the many indignities my family heaped upon me. When I came, everyone took me for a spoiled, rich brat, so, I suppose this sharp tongue of mine was my only shield. I know it's difficult to understand, but your parents loved you and always paid attention to you. You and Marséna were poor, but you have nothing but happy memories of your families. Before coming to the Order, I had no past - no identity. The Order is the only happiness I know."

"I asked because, in confidence, I am afraid." Syf confessed, never once shifting her gaze from Friyya's. "Not for my own life. That I would gladly give to the Maiden if it meant defending even the humblest of Her charges, but I fear for you, for Virg, for Marséna, for Ithunn. I can be liberal with my own life, but I fear for those I love. I fear losing what we have, what we have all built together."

"I don't." Friyya said calmly. "The Blessed Maiden watches over us."

"How can you be so sure that it is Her will for us all to survive?"

"I cast the runes." Friyya admitted. She knew Syf disapproved of sorcery, but there was no harm whatsoever in a little divination. "My nurse was a wise-woman, a völva, she taught me."

"Yes, Virg told me." Syf smiled.

"So...you don't mind...?" Friyya inquired, a little puzzled. Syf used to say that it would be best if all wizards and sorcerers were purified by fire, since their machinations always seemed to bring evil. Min, who had once overheard such a comment, had snidely remarked to Friyya, ' 'less it's a Mareterran Sybil with long, curly black hair, a see-through chiton and an ass like Marséna's'.

"No. Now that I consider it, it's good that you keep the wisdom of our ancestors. What did the runes tell you?"

"I cast from the pouch into the Circle and found Bar - the Divine Birch. That means purification and rebirth. It is auspicious, it means sins will be cleansed. When I had my first cycle, my nurse told me to wash myself out with birch tea. It has great power and, on Ortho, the Birch-Dryads protect women in need, especially if they are pregnant. Then there was Laf - the Water from which everything sprung and to which everything must return; it is life-force, the Mother of the Multiverse. It means that the powers that be favour us. Finally there was Sigel - it's the Sunbeam and it means victory. It's auspicious, for it heralds success and the coming of new light. It is also your name-rune, so I took that as a good sign, too." Friyya smiled, deeply satisfied that she could finally share her knowledge with her beloved. Mysticism had always fascinated her but, ultimately, that was the destiny of womanhood. Friyya was convinced that women were destined to greater spiritual insight and vision because they were naturally attuned to the humours of the Multiverse.

"And you believe it?" Syf said, half-hoping, half-doubting.

"Absolutely. I cast the runes when I first noticed you, and they told me that we would be happy together and that our love would blossom. At first, I did not want to believe it - I had always regarded you as a friend, but as a lover..."

"Let me guess," Syf said wryly, "Marséna was the first one you thought of in that way. Which is why you teased her so much."

Friyya pouted and blushed. That had been her little secret. "I suppose so," she said hastily. "Anyway, the runes were right about us and I am certain that they are right about our mission."

"Are you comfortable with Ithunn being your shield maiden?" Syf inquired. In light of the recent unpleasantness between the two, it was always best to ask. At face value, they looked mismatched as Ithunn and Friyya were almost diametric opposites, but Syf knew enough about the Order than to take relationships at face value.

"Why, yes. Yes, I am." Friyya said, a little mischievously.

"Don't give her a hard time. She is such a sweet girl." After all was said and done, Syf privately promised herself to treat Ithunn to something nice, just to show her appreciation: perhaps a good, newly enchanted sword or a mithril breastplate.

"I know," the auburn-haired paladin responded smugly. "Which is why I'm certain she won't object to all the tasks and duties of a good little shield maiden: starting with polishing my armour, stringing my bow and...well, in the old days, shield maidens were supposed to ensure that their mistresses were...comfortable, but I suppose you have that covered."

"Friyya..." Syf blushed. "I didn't mean it that way..."

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you wouldn't like it if I asked Ithunn to join us." There was a provocative, lascivious side to Friyya which, every so often, became downright transgressive.

"No! That never crossed my mind." Syf lied.

"Hmm...is that so. Well good for you." Friyya purred as she approached Syf. "Why would you need anyone else to play the wanton novice when I'm right here?" The auburn-haired paladin wrapped her arms around Syf's waist and pressed the taller girl against the desk. With a sensual smile on her flawlessly sensual lips Friyya dipped her head and placed the lightest of kisses on the warm, pliant surface of Syf's dark pink nipple. The little peak began stiffening almost immediately under Friyya's moist, parted lips.

"Goddess..." Syf gasped, running her fingers through Friyya's long, auburn tresses.

"Why thank you, that's very flattering. But for tonight, I think I can settle with being called Friyya."

***

"Are you going to come in or not?" Marséna called. The courtyard of the Temple was dark and all she wanted to do was to return to Quarters as soon as possible and get some well-deserved rest. "Stop pretending you're not there." She jogged across the smooth, polished stones of the yard towards the ancient gate with its hard, glistening metal panels emblazoned with the starburst insignia of the Vigilant Maiden.

There was no answer. But Marséna knew Lily was on the other side. She had known since a guardswoman had gone up to their apartment with a message that a visitor, probably a dark elf, was skulking around the walls of the Temple. So, she unlocked the gate and let the first portal slide open, revealing the protective metal grate which was normally sealed shut after darkfall.

"Lily...come on, just come in. I made your bed and if you're hungry, we can go snatch something from the mess hall..."

"Open the gate." A weary, but melodiously lilting voice called from the other side. Lily was disgusted with herself. No self-respecting drow woman came back begging. But it felt different this time: it was no longer a matter of begging, but a matter of coming home. Insofar as the drow code of duty and utility was concerned, Lily had already proven herself a worthy member of the Radiant Path by fighting alongside its paladins.

Marséna complied, brandishing the long set of intricate keys that unlocked the metal grate. Lily seemed to pounce from the dark as she stepped in, her spider-silk dress floating around her voluptuous frame like a fine, silvery mist. She was especially beautiful in the dark, for the black mantle of night suited her, making her appear both menacing and sensual.

"Hey," Marséna said, smiling - she had not envisioned being moved by Lily's return, but, in an odd way, she was. "Welcome home." She locked the grate and closed the gate behind her as Lily stepped wordlessly into the courtyard. There were no celestial bodies in the Sigil night sky, so all illumination came from the enchanted torches that blazed from the watchtowers of the Temple. The courtyard was shadowy and that made Lily feel doubly welcome. Darkness embraced her, so that her sensitive eyesight could catch every nuance and every stone, every curve in Marséna's admittedly pleasing body without being offended by the harsh, graceless light of day.

"Let it be clear that I am not here as a supplicant." Lily growled, her back turned to Marséna.

"That's not fair, Lily, we always treated you like a fellow Sister." Marséna protested.

"No, you did not. But that will change. In the tavern where you met me this morning, I spoke to some of my fellow drow. They are all renegades, commoners mostly, and those nobles that I found were exiles such as myself. They had no House, no Guild nor Temple to call their own. I cannot live such a life, so, just as I was a priestess in Ille-Athalath, I shall be a priestess on the surface."

"What do you mean?" Marséna inquired, a little perplexed.

"I have decided to become a priestess of your Vigilant Maiden. I hope there are no restrictions on drow applying."

"No, not that I know of." the paladin said, a little stunned by Lily's sudden declaration.

"I have no intention of living my life as a rogue and the retrievals business that employs Min and Shesayne is beneath my dignity. Females ought not to perform menial tasks. But since I am a woman of learning, it should hardly be a problem for me to master the Vigilant Maiden's doctrine and make a life for myself anew."

"There's more to faith than learning..."

"I know, paladin." Lily said, smiling almost serenely as she turned to face Marséna. "But I am no fool: I seek the mistress who has shown herself worthy of my blessings. Lloth abandoned me and left me to die in a filthy room. I was prepared to die before you and Virginia relieved me of my suffering. I thought I would be liberated by death that very morning. My limbs felt cold, my head dull and heavy. Yet it was the doctrine of your Goddess that bathed me, fed me and clothed me. As a rational, drow woman, I would be a fool to let my birth determine my loyalties."

"Oh...you," Marséna said in mock exasperation. "Sometimes I understand why Virginia was so enchanted by you: your mind is so twisted, but so wonderful."

"How flattering." Lily said sardonically.

"Are you hungry?" the Mareterran paladin asked. Lily certainly had character.

"If I recall correctly, that was the first thing Virginia asked me when you two found me - whether I would trust her for a meal."

"So?"

"My answer is the same as the first time: I will trust you not for the meal, but for your audacity."

Marséna nodded and led the way into Quarters and proceeded downstairs to the mess hall. The long dining chamber was deserted, its rectangular tables kept spotlessly clean and polished by the novices who had recently finished the night shift of cleaning duty. It was warm, as the kitchen doors had been opened to let in the heat from the dying embers of the ovens, and the sharp, savoury smell of lye-preserved cod stew filled the air. Lily would never have admitted it to Marséna, but she was starving. She had spent what remained of her money on bad mosswine at the cabaret and, as consequence, had not eaten all day. To compound matters, she felt rather tipsy.

"Have a seat and I'll get you a plate of stew..." Marséna invited, motioning for Lily to take her place at the table.

"Bread." the drow woman interrupted, settling into the hard wooden chair with aristocratic grace.

"Yes, of course, that goes without saying." Marséna disappeared into the kitchens where she was grateful to find a copper pot half-full of pearly-white fish and potatoes. She poured out a generous ladle of stew into a deep, wooden dish and found a half-loaf of brown spelt-bread in the cloth-covered bread bin. Returning to the mess hall, she set the food before Lily and sat down by the dark elf's side.

Without uttering a word, Lily began to eat. Marséna watched, admiring the suffused light from the oil lamps fixed to the walls of the mess hall reflect off Lily's smooth, obsidian skin and her long, silvery hair. Even though she was clearly famished, Lily ate with a certain dignity - tearing off little chunks of bread, letting them fall into her stew and picking them up with her spoon. It was then that Marséna realised that Lily was not so difficult to understand after all. The drow were a proud, arrogant race. Lily expected to be treated with admiration and deference, but once that had been accomplished, she could show herself to be a steadfast and loyal ally.

"I see that I have piqued your curiosity." Lily noted, with a quiet sense of self-satisfaction.

"I'm kind of embarrassed that this is the first time I seriously think about it," Marséna admitted, "but drow women are very beautiful."

"Of course." Marséna was too transparent for false flattery, so Lily just took the compliment for what it was.

"You're certain you're not pissed at me for taking Virginia?" the paladin pressed, a little anxiously.

"Not anymore." Lily remarked. Much to Marséna's surprise, she had finished the substantial bowl of stew and was busy picking up the remnants with chunks of bread. "In our society, we do not expect permanent attachments. I understand that on the surface you speak of 'marriage' or 'bonded lovers' as exclusive relationships. We know of no such principles. Yet I have learned much from the surface: I learned that there are noteworthy priestesses besides those of Lloth and I have learned that there are half-breeds who worthy of admiration."

"Then you think you can become a priestess of the Vigilant Maiden and still remain drow?"

"Yes, because it is now I who must decide what being drow means." Lily concluded.

"You're a strong woman, Lily." Marséna said softly, very tentatively placing a hand of Lily's shoulder. Her hand shook as she brushed against the smooth, onyx-black skin.

"To the best of my knowledge," Lily noted with gentle sarcasm. "Drow women do not bite and, although we have occasionally been known to disembowel those who take such liberties, I can assure you that you have nothing to fear."

Marséna hesitantly drew her fingers out into a caress down the dark elf's shoulder and through her moon-white hair. It was finer and softer than human hair and the sensation of it running through the paladin's hands was almost electrifying, as if she were touching the finest fabric. Unexpectedly, Lily's skin was soft and warm - so delicate for a being Marséna always thought of as cruel and sadistic. Then there were her eyes, but beneath that deep, lambent redness verging on violet, there was clearly a fine intelligence, a complex and artistic mind. "What's it really like in the caverns of the drow? Could I touch you as I'm doing now?"

Lily laughed melodiously, her sensual, violet lips curled in a lightly condescending smile. "Never in public. But we are a very passionate and affectionate race, so affectionate, in fact, that we often feel the need to dispose of those who would interfere with our romantic designs." Marséna's hand tensed all of a sudden. Lily sounded perfectly serious. "I, however, have long abandoned that practice."

"That's a relief to hear..."

"If I had really wanted to eliminate you, my dear girl, you would have been Sword Spider feed by now." Lily purred. The thought of stabbing and dismembering something was exciting her.

"Yeah...great," Marséna cringed and tried to change the subject. "So when you say passionate, what exactly..."

"As, so many myths." the dark elf said, turning in her chair to face Marséna with a slightly menacing, hungry look on her face. "But so many pleasures. Indeed, I find your surface conceptions of coupling so...how do you say....parochial, yes, and limited. It is a shame that you do not know the joy of the dying spasm of a male's phallus deep inside you, as you slit his throat when you are about to reach your peak."

"Lily!" Marséna scolded. "You can hardly become a priestess of the Blessed Maiden with that...mind."

"Males on the surface need to learn their place" Lily snorted. "But since I realise that some of our more...distinctive cultural practices could be frowned upon, I shall rein in my baser desires. But still, you have too many taboos - you claim to be an Order dedicated to womanhood, but none of you can ever bear good, strong daughters."

"It's a separation and a choice we made. We become spiritual mothers to the weak and vulnerable, but since our loyalty is to all those in need, we ought not to dilute our mission with family life. This Order is all the family we need." Marséna explained. In truth, she sometimes thought that she would not have minded marrying a nice, decent local boy on Mareterra and living out her life amidst the vineyards and olive groves. But that was a quiet, lazy life; at least, at the Order, she had the chance to make a difference.

"I see, but it is the sensual pleasures of my home city that I miss. Here the wine is badly aged, the food is insipid, the artistic scene mediocre at best and the carnal pleasures are lacking. Have you ever..." Lily hissed, a disturbingly fervent glare in her deep eyes. "Have you ever coupled with a woman mere days after she has given birth? I remember a priestess at the Temple invited me to her quarters and...what joys, her sex was plump and wet, the very perfume of fertility, her breasts were heavy, firm and stretched like the skin of a drum, swollen with milk. There is little more glorious than a drow woman's breasts and, whenever I pressed my lips against hers and suckled - spicy, rich milk filled my mouth." Lily surreptitiously moistened her lips at the thought, before deciding not to put Marséna off too much by mentioning the sliced, lightly seasoned placenta she and the priestess had enjoyed together.

"Sounds like you...uhm, miss home..." Marséna said, not quite knowing what to offer up as an answer.

"More than you could imagine..." Lily lunged, catching Marséna completely by surprise. The drow woman's heart hammered in her chest as she straddled the surprised paladin in her seat, pressing her sensuous, violet lips desperately against the human's.

"What are you doing?" Marséna mumbled, before being suffocated again by Lily's lips. The dark elven girl's tongue lapped hungrily against Marséna's lips, eager to find its playmate. Desperate to stop the situation before it spiralled out of control, Marséna grabbed one of Lily's wrists and held it tight. Undeterred, Lily shifted in Marséna's lap, thrusting her full, rounded breasts into the Mareterran girl's face.

"Here...feel!" Lily snarled, drawing Marséna's reluctant hand under the soft, spidersilk fabric of her dress. Marséna felt the soft skin and firm flesh of Lily's thighs before pressing against the plump, hairless mound of the dark elven girl's pussy. Lily was dripping wet. Warm, viscous, silky flesh, heavy with the nectar of passion spread out under Marséna's fingers, while Lily groaned, bucking herself against the human paladin. "Drow are mistresses of deception," Lily whispered huskily, her eyes, beautiful with their long, silvery lashes, seared into Marséna's. "But, this," the dark elf drew Marséna's hand closer against her sodden sex for emphasis. "This does not lie."

Marséna sighed and parted her lips ever so slightly, Lily lunged and the Mareterran paladin surrendered. Their tongues melded passionately together, Lily devouring her human lover's mouth with such needy violence that she surprised even herself. She was not going to let back: gorgeous, sun-kissed Marséna with her sensual swagger and powerful demeanour could well have been drow, so, Lily decided, she would fuck her like one. Marséna, for her part, kissed back in stunned silence. There was warmth mounting in her belly as she felt her sex tighten at the thought of exploring Lily's body. She had never seen a drow pussy in her life, but she could imagine its fragrant, slightly brooding richness under her tongue.

The paladin decided to show herself to be worthy of Lily's brutal passion. In one, clean jerk, she thrust the voluptuous dark elf's dress down, revealing the two firm, magnificent onyx-carved orbs of her breasts. Lily's violet nipples were thick and turgid with arousal. Marséna sighed in admiration, while Lily seized the Mareterran girl's long, black hair in her fingers and vigorously pulled her down to suckle at her breasts. Hot, wet, velvety nether lips rubbed against Marséna's bared thigh as Lily thrust herself lustily against her lover. Marséna could smell it in the air: something warm and exotic, spicy and bittersweet mingling with sweat and the delectably sensual natural aroma of Lily's skin.

Tracing wet, licking kisses over the gorgeous, full orbs of Lily's breasts, Marséna drew ever closer to the drow woman's engorged nipples. She took one between her lips and felt Lily moan and tug violently at her hair. Marséna bit down, hard, in retaliation, causing Lily to sigh sharply and shudder, dragging her sex with exquisite firmness against Marséna's thigh. Now that Lily realised she was no pushover, Marséna began to press hungrily against the dark elven girl's nipple with her lips, her tongue flicking teasingly over the sensitive peak. Each flick of Marséna's tongue sent jolts of teasing, mounting pleasure deep into Lily's loins and up her spine. Lily thrust herself harder against Marséna and dug her fingers, almost painfully, into the Mareterran girl's shoulders. Deft, black fingers flew across the buttons of Marséna's tunic, loosening it to reveal the full curve of the human's breasts.

Then Marséna abruptly released Lily's nipple, glistening wet in the dim light, seized the drow woman by the waist and hoisted her onto the table. Lily gave a contented sigh as she felt the hard wood against her back - Marséna was admirably fiery in her coupling.

"Goddess, I want to taste you so badly..." Marséna said huskily and roughly spread Lily's thighs apart, casting aside the hem of the dark elf's dress. The Mareterran paladin took a moment to tear off her tunic and boots, before kneeling in front of Lily and pulling off the drow woman's silk slippers one at the time. She then positioned herself a few inches from the fertile, ripe nether lips of Lily's sex. The dark elf shuddered, bucking her hips upwards, her dainty, bare feet trailing over Marséna's shoulders in sensual encouragement. Marséna pressed her lips against Lily's nectar-slick sex and inhaled: what a revelation! So pliant, musky, yet tartly sweet like a wild peach, like a distillation of femininity.

"What are you waiting for, girl, lick!" Lily growled, her throat cloyed with passion. Marséna did not need to be asked twice, she ran her tongue over the length of the Lily's sex, before spreading the violet inner lips with two fingers to reveal a wonderful, dewy midnight bloom, rich with liquid arousal. Lily's tiny clit stood stiff and hard, proudly poking from its hood. Marséna took a moment to watch in awe, before she started lapping hungrily. Her first licks were deliberately probing, just to get a taste and feel of that glorious, velvety valley, but it was not long before her tongue pressed against the pearl-hard bud of Lily's clit, shining, violet and lustrous with moisture. Lily bit her lip and thrust her hips forward, offering herself to Marséna's lips. The paladin quickened the intensity of her tongue against Lily's clit, while working two fingers into the dark elven girl's nectar-sodden canal. Lily's toes dug into Marséna's shoulder as she gritted her teeth. Something stirred in her loins - soon, too soon, but Lily had spent the whole day aroused beyond belief, so close yet so far from an ideal drow lover. But Marséna was a perfectly good surrogate. The Mareterran girl's tongue was sublime as it danced across Lily's lust inflamed flesh.

- Not long now - Lily thought as she bit her lip, angrily pinching a slick, violet nipple between her fingers as she remembered the delicious warmth of Marséna's mouth against it. It was only when Marséna withdrew her fingers, glistening with Lily's fragrant arousal, from the drow woman's sex and thrust them in, long and hard, with a winding motion to caress the innermost walls of her sex, that the moment came. Lily gave a sharp, mewling cry, thrusting her sex against Marséna's face, calves tensed, toes pointed as the sublime waves of limb-loosening relief flooded her body. The Mareterran continued licking. She wanted to bathe her face in Lily's exotic, musky-sweet wetness, to lose herself forever in that ocean of fertile, feminine silk. The taste of drow was addictive and Lily's silky pussy was abundant with nectar which was so female and fertile, yet so rich and commanding that it was almost narcotic.

She only broke away when Lily sat up and forcibly dragged Marséna into her arms. Their kiss was wet and burning with unbridled sensuality. Lily's hands reached down Marséna's taut flanks and found her elegant, flared hips and the magnificent curve of her bottom. Dextrous, dark elven fingers glided down the crevasse of Marséna's bottom and trailed upwards, against the nest of coal-black curls and the earthy, musky, and stickily wet sex beneath it. Marséna sighed into Lily's mouth and trailed her fingernails up the drow girl's back.

"Everyone always goes there." Marséna whispered sensually.

"A little too hard, perhaps." Lily noted, with a wicked smile, her fingers digging into the athletic tension of Marséna's buttocks. "Strenuous exercise is unbecoming of a woman, but I suspect yours would be the envy of Lloth Herself."

"Hmm...you elv- I mean drow are lucky, in twenty years, my lover will be thanking me for the 'strenuous exercise'."

"Yes..but I am told that Mareterran women age gracefully as humans go." Lily noted. Not even in Virginia had she ever encountered such a flawless fusion of ripe femininity and athleticism.

"We like to think so." Marséna smiled. "Now I suggest we find a nice quiet spot. I'd hate for Isobel to find us here."

"Would she flog us?" Lily inquired, her tone betraying an unhealthy fascination.

"No doubt, now get your stuff, we're going to the Baths." They slipped out of the mess hall, clothes in hand, bare feet padding against the wooden flooring. Quarters were silent and Marséna, an expert if ever there was one at sneaking out after curfew when she was a novice, knew exactly where the sentries were placed. Each step vibrated through her, filling her with a yearning desire to reach a lewd, jarring climax under Lily's touch. Thankfully, the great Baths under the mighty, stony dome were empty. Pools of water continued to bubble, funnelled directly from the Elemental Plane of Water.

"I came down here once," Lily said, following Marséna, her eyes rapt as she watched the gentle swaying of the Mareterran's hips. "The novices drew back in fear, though they were rather curious that I had no hair atop my sex. It led me to conclude that the best way to have a bathing pool all to yourself was to come in with drow."

"That's a tempting proposal," Marséna quipped. She approached a washing nook - where users cleaned themselves with soap and unguents before entering the main bath - dropped her tunic and boots unceremoniously to the floor and beckoned coquettishly to Lily. Before she knew it, the dark elf was against her lips again, their hands exploring hot flesh, flushed with desire. Marséna pulled back Lily's silver tresses to run her fingers down the dark elf's sensitive, pointed ears. Lily gasped and felt a welling of desire in her loins. She buried her face between Marséna's breasts, kissing and nipping sharply with her teeth while her hands clutched the glorious globes of the paladin's bottom, her thumb pressed against the puckered rosebud in that deep, musky valley.

"Have you ever been taken there?" Lily inquired, her voice low and sultry. She shivered as she felt Marséna's tongue trail up the sensitive surface of her pointed ear, her lips found one of Marséna's gorgeously stiff, cafe-au-lait nipples and she bit down, tugging the engorged peak taut.

"Goddess, you like it rough..." Marséna breathed, smiling suggestively. "And if you think I'm a virgin down there, you clearly don't know me very well."

"Quite, but I meant with a hand." Lily corrected.

"Isn't that...uh, pushing it a little?" the Mareterran girl said with a certain trepidation, even if the lewd thought of Lily fucking her so profoundly filled her with guilty desire.

"Trust me..." Lily purred, her thumb applying the lightest pressure on Marséna's anus. "Why use a surrogate of a crude male organ when you can have a female's hand? Sometimes I think I will never understand you surface dwellers."

"Hmm...all right," said Marséna, realising that the die had been cast the moment she had welcomed Lily's sensual attentions. "I know I'm in capable hands." With that, she gave Lily's ear a final, playful nip, turned and leaned forward with her face against the wall, thighs spread, dark pink nether lips, heavy with dew, now open and vulnerable in the warm air.

"You are. Now it is very important that you relax." the dark elf said. She took a bottle of massage oil from the neat sets of ampoules by each washing nook and poured some on her hand, until it was well-coated in fragrant, translucent lubricant. Lily then poured some onto the small of Marséna's back and let it pool, warm and slippery, down the crevasse of the paladin's bottom. The Mareterran shuddered in anticipation as two of Lily's fingers slipped inside her, almost without resistance. Lily was behind her, now, she could feel the drow woman's lips against her throat as a third finger was added, this time more slowly, just so the tight little muscle could be persuaded into stretching that little bit more. Marséna took a deep breath and concentrated on the soft femininity of Lily's form behind her. Stiff nipples pressed against her back while Lily's free hand trailed lazily down the paladin's hard belly.

Marséna bit her lip to stop herself from crying out as Lily slid a fourth finger in her and began to thrust in, making way for her thumb. "Lily...it hurts!" the paladin whispered, calves taut as she stood on tiptoe to provide the ideal angle for penetration.

"Good." Lily purred and bit down, hard, on Marséna's shoulder. "Now surrender yourself." Marséna whimpered powerlessly, eyes screwed shut, as she felt Lily's thumb finally slip into the hot, moist recesses of her bottom. "Good girl," Lily cooed, her free hand trailing lower to tease the soft, raven-black curls atop Marséna's sex. Then with slow, methodical precision, Lily slipped her hand deeper still into Marséna's straining, over-stuffed bottom, bringing the little rosebud into full bloom. To see her obsidian-black hand disappear between those glorious, iodine-tan globes was sublime, but what aroused Lily the most was Marséna's surrender to her. Lily thrust her hand in unison with the wanton bucking of Marséna's hips, delighting in the Mareterran girl's desperate, plaintive moans. Marséna's sex was slick and heavy with musky wetness which matted the raven-black curls. A few stray droplets of that thick, pearly honey fell to the stone floor beneath the paladin's straining loins. Lily had to make a conscious effort not to throw herself to the ground and lick them up.

For Marséna, the union of pain and jarring pleasure was divine. Lily had begun to work her thumb and forefinger expertly against the Mareterran's lust-engorged clit. As Lily's fingers reached a crescendo of delightful friction, the dark elf began to maliciously press the pads of her fingers against the thin membrane them from Marséna's sex. Marséna felt a surge of raw, lewd desire flow from the pit of her belly. She cried out shamelessly, her back arching as she felt the impending wave of her climax, spurred on by the glorious dance of Lily's fingers against her clit. Marséna distantly heard Lily whisper something in Drow, but, in that moment, everything was drowned out by her own cries and by the thundering pulse of her heartbeat. The burning tide of her orgasm coursed through her, filling her loins with a molten sensation of relief. Her rosebud contracted, in vain, around Lily's wrist, while the drow woman lavished her wet, teasing kisses on the paladin's throat.

"I see you enjoyed it." Lily said smugly as she carefully began to extract her hand from Marséna's aching bottom.

"Yeah..." Marséna gasped, her breath ragged. It took a masterful lover to blend agony and sensual expectation so perfectly, but Lily, as befitted an expert drow lover, had not disappointed. "But not something I'd do every day, either."

"Perhaps we could benefit from a quick bath." Lily suggested, her lilting voice ringing softly in Marséna's ear.

"Definitely."

They scrubbed each other down with sandalwood-infused oil and made their way to a soothingly cool cleansing pool. Marséna spread herself out gratefully in the bubbling waters and instinctively reached out to wrap her arm around Lily. In the dim darkness of the Baths, Lily almost seemed to meld into night, were it not for the lambent, deep red glow of her eyes. Much to Marséna's surprise, Lily moved closer and leaned her head on the Mareterran's shoulder. Her breath was warm against Marséna's damp skin.

"I think we just gave a new interpretation to the term 'kiss and make up'." Marséna joked, tenderly stroking Lily's hair.

"What?"

"A figure of speech," Marséna chuckled. "So, peace then?"

Marséna heard gentle splashing as Lily shifted beside her. "Insofar as we drow comprehend that term, yes." Lily said, as always dancing on the tightrope between jest and menace. The dark elf's hand trailed up Marséna's belly and breasts, before rising out of the water to cup the paladin's chin. Lily scrutinised Marséna, almost curiously, before planting a soft, almost affectionate, kiss on her lips. In that instant, the paladin understood that Lily finally realised she had a home on the surface world.

"You know," Marséna said amiably, wrapping her arms around Lily's waist, "I think you're just about the cuddliest drow I know."

"Are you, by any chance, making an effort to provoke me?"

"Only because it's so easy, kitten." Marséna retorted and lunged forward to playfully bite down on Lily's sensitive ear. They tumbled into the water together, Marséna laughing and Lily trying very hard not to.

"Such impudence," Lily growled as they thrashed in the pool "ought to be punished. If only I had my bebilith spinneret cane..."

"You drow are clever girls, I'm sure you can come up with something creative..." Before Marséna could finish, Lily's lips were against hers. This time the kiss blazed with renewed passion as the dark elf devoured the paladin's lips, tongues locked in a sultry struggle.

***

"Good evening, Milady, how may I be of service?" the perfectly coiffed, high elven shopkeeper inquired. She bore a serene smile and was dressed in a simple, green shift that made her seem perfectly at home amidst the monumental selection of flowers and plants that surrounded her. Everything in the shop was predisposed to make it appear as if the plants were growing naturally, so that, aside from a simple desk, there was no furniture or polished wood to speak of. Only soil and fragrant humidity.

"Well, I have this elven lady friend and I thought it was high time I bought her something nice." Min said. Her demeanour remained cool and inscrutable as ever, even though she felt as though such a lush, verdant space, crammed with exotic, multichrome blossoms was out of place in Sigil. The shop owner, however, put Min at ease - her movements and speech were gracefully unaffected and she walked airily, barefoot, over the rich earth of the shop's floor. - Almost certainly a druid - Min thought - and a cute, chestnut-haired one as well -.

"Oh, how lovely," the elven woman enthused, with a disarming glimmer in her leaf-green eyes. "Now, as you no doubt know, Milady, plants and flowers speak to elves in very particular ways. Each type and each arrangement has a very specific significance, though if you are familiar with the details I shan't bore you..."

"I'm not," Min admitted, strolling languidly towards the shopkeeper. "I was hoping you could help me out."

"With pleasure, Milady. I do not wish to be invasive, but if you could perhaps tell me the nature of your relationship and what you wish to communicate." Min hated herself for noticing it, but she was certain she could see the outlines of light brown nipples against the shopkeeper flimsy green shift.

"We were friends and then she said that it should be something more. I was a sodding leatherhead and so I told her I had to think it through. Now, I s'pose I've come to my senses, so really all I'd like to say is that I'm sorry and that I could never see myself with anyone else." It did not feel as odd as Min feared it would to explain her situation to the shopkeeper. The elven woman had almost immediately put her at ease.

"The important thing is that you have realised it, Milady. Now, may I suggest nine Queinii Orchids and a single Cloud Lily arranged in a crown pattern?"

"Sure, you're the expert." Min shrugged.

"Some would say the finest in Sigil. Now please, follow me, Milady."

Min followed the shopkeeper deeper into the store's garden. In order to shield the delicate plants from Sigil's inclement weather and smoky air, an enchanted crystal dome had been fitted to the roof, flooding the garden with light and regulating its temperature to a comfortable warmth. There was no order to the arrangements of flowers; everything grew spontaneously and with rich abundance. Vines and creeping plants grew on finely carved trellises, while water-flowers bloomed in all imaginable colours from artistically tended pools, surrounded by freely-growing long grasses and moss. Min simply could not find the words to describe the heady, intoxicating mixture of perfumes that filled the air, for every bloom had its own distinct and mesmerising aroma.

First, the elven woman knelt down by a patch of pristine white orchids, flecked with rose and gold and began to pluck them one by one. It was then that Min realised that the elf was definitely a druid, for she required no sickle to cut the flowers, but merely coaxed them out of their bed of moss and dead wood, teasing them out with the lightest of touches. Then, she made her way to a pool of crystal clear water that lay between two crimson ornamental shrubs and dipped her hands inside.

"Cloud Lilies only bloom once every twelve years." the shopkeeper explained, apparently searching for something at the bottom of the pool. "Most of the time they hibernate, because the mountains from which they originate are shrouded in darkness. But, look..." The elven woman finally drew her hands out of the water and held a tightly closed red flower bud, the size of a fist, in her hands. A simple incantation, silently whispered in the secret tongue of druids, caused the elf's hands to glow and the Cloud Lily to blossom, revealing wide petals of the most vivid red Min had ever seen which surrounded a little sea of deep golden pistils, like a miniature field of saffron.

"Yeah, that looks exactly like it's Aerylle's sort of thing." Min noted - the finer details of the beauty of nature were generally lost on her.

"Aerylle? Is that her name?" the shopkeeper said effusively, gathering up the flowers. "How sweet, I believe that is the Grey Elven name for the Flower of Life - the first living thing to greet the Creators. I am Selania, by the way."

"Min." the tiefling replied. She watched as Selania plucked some flexible reeds from the ground and expertly began tying the flowers together, interweaving each strand of reed with another of greenery. The tiefling's observant eyes noted the elven woman's agile fingers, the subtly muscular firmness of her thigh as she crouched close to the ground to pick a reed. Min could only wonder what Selania was doing in Sigil, far from her forests and beloved trees.

"Very well, Milady Min," Selania said, smiling sweetly as she proffered the finished bouquet, "I hope it is to your satisfaction."

Although Min was no expert in such matters, it was clear that the flowers, already mesmerising in their own right, were exceptionally well arranged. The irises has been secured in a ring around the Cloud Lily and the base of the bouquet had been tightly knotted with reeds and greenery, so that they all appeared to spring from the same plant. "Looks all right to me." Min nodded, balancing the flowers in one arm. "How much do I owe you?"

"Normally, that would be one hundred and twenty..." Min felt her eyebrow twitch involuntarily. "But I would happily settle for ninety for such a fascinating customer as you, Milady Min."

They went back to the lone desk at the centre of the garden to pay. While Min counted out what remained of her savings, Selania was busy imparting botanical advice. "Water once a day," she said, "preferably towards late morning. Lifespan is around sixty days, but many elven ladies like preserving the flowers as a keepsake, a service I will be happy to perform free of charge, though there is a very reasonable supplement if you would like them mounted in amber."

"D'you like it here in Sigil?" Min inquired, all of a sudden. There was something deeply curious about a druid who chose to live in a city.

"Not especially." Selania answered, with a hint of sadness. "But sometimes one has no choice. My mother died recently and my family is far from wealthy. I do my best to help out and Sigil offers good, steady business. But thank you for asking. I sense that you are a kind, loving woman and that you will make your Aerylle very happy."

"Thanks, that's good to hear." Min said as she retrieved her coin pouch. At least it was much lighter now.

"Hanali's blessings be with you, Milady." Selania said with a demure curtsy. "I wish you all the best, but, and do not think me impertinent for saying this, should Fate ever bring your heart elsewhere, you know where to find me."

"I'm flattered," Min said, flashing an enigmatic smile, "I'll definitely keep that in mind, but right now, I'd rather deal with one thing at the time."

Selania sighed longingly as Min turned to leave. - By the Earth Mother, how embarrassing - the druid thought, - I am desperate. I really need a dryad...but where would I put a centuries-old tree in this godsforsaken city? -

Min exited the florist and was greeted by a blast of cold air mingled with icy-sharp rain. Flowers in hand, she rushed across the Clerk's Ward, eager to get her precious cargo to destination as soon as possible. Monotonous, grey beehive buildings of old wood and moss-grown stone stretched into the horizon as Min jogged her way past little cohorts of robed civic officials and merchants. It was only when she reached the dark, sullen entrance to Aerylle's apartment building that her pace slowed. It was too late for second thoughts, she decided, as she slowly began to ascend the stair. Differences between them would remain, Min concluded, but they would come to a compromise together - as a couple.

The tiefling paused for a moment on the landing in front of Aerylle's apartment. She thought of the night when she and Aerylle had first met and realised that it felt like yesterday. She thought of the reassuring kindness of Aerylle's voice, the softness of her touch, the way she was protective, yet needed protecting herself. By the end of her reminiscence, there was no doubt left in Min's mind. So she knocked twice against the door and waited.

"Who is it?" Min heard Aerylle call out. Soft footsteps padded towards the door, which then slid ajar. Min smiled and pressed the flowers against the crack in the doorway.

"Oh!" Aerylle gave a startled cry and threw the door open.

"I hope these are the right ones 'cause they..." Min began. Before she could finish, Aerylle was in her arms.

"Yes! Min, my love, my treasure...just like I always dreamed." Aerylle sighed, tears of joy and relief washing down her cheeks.

"Glad you like them, princess." Min said, moved by the elven maiden's joy. Aerylle never thought she could be so glad to hear Min's favourite term of endearment again.

"It looks like your princess has finally found her prince." the elven girl breathed, burying her face in Min's breast, deliriously happy to smell the incense-like spiciness of the tiefling's skin.

Min chuckled softly and kissed Aerylle's golden-blonde tresses. In that moment, she realised she was more than happy to put up with her lover's sappy romanticism. "As Her Majesty wishes." Min purred sardonically. With a sweeping grace, she seized Aerylle up in her arms and held her aloft, flowers and all, before carrying her through the door and into the modest, but immaculately tended living room.

"Hmm, my gallant Min." Aerylle said dreamily as the tiefling carefully set her down and closed the door behind them. Thankfully for Min, Aerylle was very light, but the tiefling never had much in the way of brute strength.

"If it bothers you, I can tone down the sleeping around." Min offered, tenderly stroking Aerylle's cheek.

"No, no," Aerylle said fervently, her gaze meeting the tiefling's vivid, orange eyes. "Just two rules. Let me know first and never, ever let me wake up alone."

Min nodded gratefully and did her best to swallow the knot of emotion forming in her throat. "Uhm...Aerylle, I know I've been putting off saying this for a long time, but I always reckoned I'd sound weak and all soft inside if I said it. Silly me, right? So here goes: I'm in love with you, Aerylle and...well, that's it, I'm not much for romantic speeches."

Aerylle replied with an ardent kiss. Never had Min's lush, wine-red lips felt so soft, so sultry, never had her tongue, agile and questing, brought such sensual relief. "Your eyes and your flowers do all the speaking for you." Aerylle said, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "Now maybe you should put this wonderful bouquet in a vase while I get out of this ghastly librarian's robe and put on something more...comfortable. Then I will show you just what an excellent choice you made in choosing a grey elf woman..."