Sigil – a great, cosmopolitan city at the centre of all the Planes of Existence; this is a city of lost souls and boundless hopes, of countless scattered lives and scattered dreams. It is, at once, the antithesis of Imej and its dark, passionate mirror.

- Excerpt from Aerylle’s Diary

Sigil was experiencing a cold snap. Icy, foggy, humid air hung low over the city's cobbled streets, streaking stone walls with dank moisture. It was a bad day: grey and overcast, even more so than the residents of Sigil had come to expect from their foreboding, sunless sky. The snaking alleyway was icebound, the terrain slippery under Shesayne's feet. But the petite half-elf was undeterred. Her movements were deft and she skipped expertly over the cracked paving, interwoven with little pools of freezing water covered by murky skins of dirty ice. Shesayne braced herself against the cutting wind and hugged herself close. Her wardrobe had not anticipated the sudden fall in temperature, so she had to settle for wearing one of Astrid's battered old grey overcoats. It was far too big for her. Shesayne was short, slender and so waifishly elfin that most mistook for her a full-blooded High Elf. Only her lightly tan skin gave her ancestry away. Otherwise, her impish smile and youthfully pretty features were precisely what one would expect from an Elf - and a very comely one at that. Her mouth was soft, always curled in amusement, her almond eyes turquoise-blue, her hair short, raven-dark, and casually held firm by a fine dragon-turtle shell comb. Her slim, delicate limbs were wiry and tense with excitement. It was as though everything in the world fascinated her, even on a dreary evening. A fateful dreary evening, to be more precise, since Shesayne had managed to schedule herself a performing slot at the Celestial Ring - a moderately reputable night-haunt for Sigil's would-be Elven intellectuals of moderate means. It was, in other words, a place with aspirations - much like Shesayne herself.

The first few droplets of icy, needle-like rain began to fall as Shesayne reached the threshold of one of the tall, skeletally ramshackle buildings that hung, menacing, over the alleyway. She reached under her overcoat and fumbled for her keys. Her fingers felt numb. Even with a thick, grey wool pullover and multichrome leggings under her coquettishly short breeches, it was still absolutely freezing. Shesayne rubbed her hands together and contemplated her breath misting in the looming twilight of the deserted street. Coming home, she reflected, could not have been so wonderful had it not been so miserable outside. The rickety door, framed in rusted iron, gave way and Shesayne dashed through the decaying entrance hall and up three flights of narrow, spiralling stairs. There, at the landing, she hastily unlocked the door to her apartment and let herself in.

Inside, it was pleasantly warm. Astrid had conjured up a prism of floating, orange light that cast a pleasantly homely glow on their tiny living room. As usual, chaos reigned. Astrid had disassembled a vastly complex piece of magical circuitry on their kitchen table. Metal and crystals, arranged in winding, circular patterns like an alien calligraphy were strewn around the table and its adjacent chairs. Much to her chagrin, Shesayne noted the dirty laundry on the divan waiting to be taken to wash was exactly where she had left it earlier that morning before leaving for work. Astrid, though, was deeply absorbed in her work. Hunched over the table, a long, thin, adamantine needle in hand, she skilfully calibrated the circuitry of a burned faerie fire board. Though she was human, Astrid was a self-professed lover of all things Elven. Tall, slimly built, with a certain scholarly elegance, what made her particularly striking was her short-cropped azure-dyed hair, curious, emerald eyes and a fine, charming dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Shesayne always found that they did much to soften Astrid's otherwise classically Northern, Ortho features. At least, Astrid appeared less the severe Valkyrie and more the cute, curious mage. That, naturally, suited Shesayne just fine. She had fallen in love with Astrid's odd, irreverent lust for life. Astrid at work, though, even in her creased white shirt and dark blue breeches, was irresistible.

So Shesayne shut the door behind her, threw off her overcoat and gratefully kicked off her ankle boots, before pouncing, quite amiably, on Astrid, feathering the human woman's hair with kisses. "Having a dreary, depressing and unforgiving day?" Shesayne chimed. She spoke quickly, with just a rich hint of wondrous Elven musicality.

"Busy," Astrid replied curtly. She used a magical cantrip to mentally jam a storage crystal while she recalibrated its platinum feeds.

"Why so cold?" Shesayne pouted. "If you're going to be like this, I could've just as well stayed outside..."

"Just trying to earn a living, Shesayne." Astrid retorted, more wearily than she would have wanted.

Shesayne released her playful grip of Astrid's taut belly and drew back, a little hurt. "Well, if I'm not welcome, I might as well make my back into the cold and rain and try my luck to see if some kind soul'd share her food and fire with me..."

"Dammit, Shesayne..." Astrid groaned. Shesayne knew exactly how to manipulate her. The half-elf was an accomplished actress, so that whenever she put on the 'poor orphan girl' scene, complete with half-choked sobbing, Astrid could actually imagine her lover cold, hungry and alone on the streets. "Come here, then." She spun around and seized Shesayne by the waist, pulling the slender half-elf into her lap. Shesayne seized the occasion, straddling Astrid's hips and tilting the human mage's chin to draw her into a searing, wet kiss. Defeated, Astrid's lips parted, her tongue flinging itself in a wanton dance with Shesayne‘s. The half-elf's lips were soft, still a little cold, but welcoming and sweet, like water after a long drought. It had really been a long day.

"Y'see," Shesayne teased, cocking her head curiously to one side to observe Astrid's ever-fascinated expression, "that wasn't too hard now, was it? I guess I'm lucky 'cause it's so much easy-easier to be nice to me."

"Oh? And I suppose this is because you're such a sweet, modest girl who likes to help out her long-suffering, hard-working lover."

"Nope," Shesayne countered, "let's see...I've done a little thieving, a little peeling of clueless berks and my favourite outfits are things that'd give my mother an apoplectic attack, but...all in all, I think I'm a pretty sweet, lovely and unique find, what about you?"

"Granted," Astrid smiled and gave Shesayne's cheek a quick kiss. She smelled of peach blossoms. "Plus you have the added benefit of brightening up my day - nothing like a lovely half-elf to perk up an afternoon...well, maybe a nice cup of proper tea, but we'll discuss that when they up my commission."

"Are you comparing your tea and your half-elf?" Shesayne purred, undulating her hips ever so subtly in Astrid's lap. " 'Cause with a half-elf, you can go from daily grind to daily grind - if you catch my drift."

"I do, but only because you're so witty and I'm so clever." Shesayne’s good-natured bawdiness always made Astrid smile.

"Sure...let's put it another way," Shesayne leaned forward to press her lips against Astrid's ear, her tongue flicking wetly against the human mage's soft, pale skin, "you're going to go back to work and I'll spread out on the couch, slip my hand into my breeches and start exploring my nicely wet Inner Petals...then when you can't take it anymore, you'll strip me, mash your pussy against mine and fuck me till my throat aches from coming for being such a naughty, slutty little Elf."

"So...I suppose the fact that our rent is in arrears doesn't bother you." Astrid felt her sex tighten with desire. Shesayne simply ignored her and renewed their kiss, her lips moist and pliant. Dextrous, nimble fingers slipped under the waistband of Astrid's breeches. Shesayne felt soft down, hot and damp with arousal. Body hair was a feature most Elves found disgusting, but Shesayne adored the blue-dyed thatch of Astrid's pussy, the fine, golden filaments, like almost imperceptible wisps, that flowed up the human mage's arm. Elves were far too delicate - humans were earthy, thick with salt and musk. Astrid’s sex felt soft, slick and gooey under Shesayne's fingers. The human mage moaned and rolled her hips, her sighs absorbed by Shesayne's insistent kisses.

Shesayne began to unbutton Astrid's shirt, slowly at first, popping each link to reveal an ivory expanse of smooth skin, enriched here and there by a tantalising freckle. Shesayne kissed each dark point of flesh, her tongue leaving glistening trails. Astrid's shirt slipped open, revealing her small, beautifully proportioned breasts, each capped by a big, stiff cherry-pink nipple. Heat, pulsing heartbeat under Astrid's skin, dew-slick petals parting under Shesayne's fingers - it was spontaneous, almost urgent. Shesayne pulled her hand out and pressed her viscous fingers between her lips and Astrid's. Thick, creamy nectar - salty, visceral, female, human - they licked it clean. Astrid caressed Shesayne's pointed ears, her thumbs tracing the delicate contours, flowing into the half-elven girl's high cheekbones. She was wet, Astrid could taste her own flavour on her lips, her nostrils flooded by the scent of her inner dew - that slick secret that now pooled within her thighs and stained her breeches.

"You were saying something 'bout the rent..." Shesayne said, her throat cloyed with passion. Her fingernails brushed against Astrid's nipples - sweet and rubbery like firm berries. She shuddered as she heard the human mage mewl softly.

"Was I? Completely slipped from my mind." Astrid moved her hands under Shesayne's pullover. Soft wool gave way to smooth flesh. She traced the contours of the girl's hard belly and flanks, circling upwards to finally caress her soft, gorgeously rounded breasts. Shesayne's nipples pebbled against the wool of her pullover, tenting the fabric. Hot, lust-engorged flesh came under Astrid's fingertips. Shesayne drew a soft, sighing breath and smothered Astrid's lips, her kiss deliberately wet, deep and sensual. Astrid never ceased to be amazed by Shesayne's breasts, the way - like everything about the half-elf - they seemed to have the best of both worlds: compact and elegant, like an Elven woman, but with a certain ripe, human roundness.

"You're wetter than Oceanus," Shesayne murmured between kisses, her hips flowing sensuously in Astrid’s lap. "I can smell you..."

"What....?" Astrid blushed a rather endearing shade of pink, absentmindedly tracing the shape of Shesayne's stiff nipples under the girl's pullover.

"Humans...when I'm this close, I can usually tell if you're wet - not just from your skin, 'cause it's warmer, but 'cause I can smell your pussy - like a wet forest floor and sea-salt drying on your skin."

"Should I be flattered?"

"Hmm...yes, I want to taste you..." Shesayne eased a hand back under the waistband of Astrid's breeches. She parted the slick, silky outer lips with a flick of her middle and forefinger. Astrid drew a sharp breath and drew Shesayne closer, so she could lick the half-elven girl's sensitive, pointed ear.

"Looks like this circuit board will have to wait...I suppose there are benefits to being self-employed."

Shesayne rocked against Astrid, her tongue locked in a slick, hungry duel in her lover's mouth. She pressed the heel of her palm against the stiff little pearl of Astrid's clit and thrust forward, her fingers splayed and rubbing the sodden inner petals of the human mage's pussy. Astrid tugged off Shesayne's pullover and buried her face between the half-elf's breasts. She inhaled the scent of wool and fruity perfume. Her lips latched around a dark pink nipple - a turgid little berry, now moist in Astrid's mouth as she suckled, Shesayne bucking, sighing, ramming the heel of her hand harder against the human woman's hard clit - thrusting and rolling in delicious, lazy circles. Slick wetness flowed around Shesayne's fingers -a creamy, musky swamp. Shesayne wanted to lick Astrid out, but there was no interrupting what had already started.

They flowed together, the rich, ripe scent of lust-slick human pussy filling Shesayne's nostrils, making her heart throb with fiery intensity. Astrid surrendered herself and let the heat build in her loins, mounting with the friction from Shesayne's hand against her sodden sex. Blood, the frantic beating of Shesayne's heart, the soft, high-pitched whimpers from the half-elf's lips - everything flowed together, building in a tense nexus deep in Astrid's well. Astrid tensed, and felt a wave of relief begin to pulse outward from her sex, tautening her belly an calves. She dug her toes into the carpet and came in ragged, sobbing breaths against Shesayne's breast. Her clit throbbed, hard, slick and angry. Under her breeches, her pussy felt uncomfortably wet, as if it has fused with fabric and Shesayne's hand into a thick, oozing mass.

Astrid slumped back into her chair. Shesayne smiled and suckled her fingers clean. A few strands of sky-blue hair, still slick with nectar, framed the waistband of Astrid's breeches. Astrid did not bother to pull them up. "We're lucky we don't work in the same place," Astrid murmured dreamily, still trying to catch her breath, "I don't suppose we'd get much done."

"Definitely, truly, absolutely - I'd be changing my undergarments every toll of the Bell Tower and it'd all be your sodding fault."

"Speaking of which," Astrid took the occasion to chide Shesayne for the piles of clothing, dirty plates and glasses that were strewn around their living room-cum-kitchen. "You were supposed to bring your things to the laundry."

"That's where you're ever-so-terribly wrong." Shesayne teased, wrapping her arms around Astrid's neck. "You work at home, you could've brought them yourself."

"I have better things to do than going around picking through your dirty slips." Astrid said defiantly.

"You don't seem to mind what's in them - plus they're not slips - honest." Shesayne gyrated her hips for emphasis and Astrid, despite herself, feathered her hands down the half-elf's back to cup the delectably pert swell of the girl's bottom. Naturally, Shesayne's scandalous little cut-off breeches had been designed to complement those firm globes to perfection.

"Tell me, just tell me," Astrid groaned, "what Elven woman would put up with you refusing to do your fair share of the housework? No really, I am most curious."

"Which is exactly why my girl's human - and, now that I come to think of it, you should probably be doing your fair share, too...you were supposed to do the bathtub..."

"Shesayne, my rare beauty, I have to work..."

"...make the bed..."

"Do you want to try your hand at repairing a permanency-empowered faerie fire circuit?" Astrid challenged.

"Let's get this straight, clear and right to the point," Shesayne replied darkly, her usually playful turquoise-blue gaze betraying a hint of irritation, "I'm not a sodding housewife - we cuddle, we fuck, and we say all the honey-sweet, sappy 'I love you' screed before going to bed and first thing in the morning...but, I'm not a kid and you're not my big sister." Shesayne dismounted from Astrid’s lap and stormed off into the bathing chamber to change for the evening's performance.

"Fuck..." Astrid hissed. She rose and adjusted her breeches. Once she was certain Shesayne was in the bathing nook with the sputtering jet of hot water drowning out any sound she might hear, Astrid stalked off the divan. A half-read, second-hand book of High Elven poetry sat amongst a discarded, burgundy bandeau and a matching, diagonally-cut skirt adorned with a stylised, Elven floral pattern. Astrid stuffed everything she could find of Shesayne's in an old leather backpack, before depositing it by the doorway. If Shesayne did not take it out the next morning, she would personally throttle her. That and the doorway was already a mess - Shesayne's collection of boots and sandals was scattered aimlessly, like an army of fallen toy soldiers. Astrid was hardly a stickler for neatness herself, but Shesayne took chaos to new levels.

"Astrid!" Shesayne called, her voice half-drowned out by the intermittent thundering of water.

"What?"

"Do you have any clean liners? I'm due in two days."

"As soon as you leave your stuff off at the fucking laundry, you'll have them." Astrid snarled and Shesayne fell quiet. Astrid was more anxious than she wanted to be. Earlier that morning, she had gone down for groceries and the blue-skinned, shaven-headed genasi landlady had intercepted her with dark threats of eviction unless she settled the last sixty days of unpaid rent. Astrid, smiling through gritted teeth, had reassured her. Once the circuit board and the Wand of Wonder she had been contracted to repair were returned, she was fairly certain that they would have enough to squeeze through.

Soft, densely rhythmic Elven music began to waft through the air as the sounds of spraying water faded. Shesayne had turned on Astrid's Music Sphere. Those floating, enchanted balls of aqua-coloured crystal had become popular with music enthusiasts in Sigil and commanded absurd prices. Astrid, with her facility for all things magical and mechanical, had managed to cobble one together from spare parts she found at a used artifact emporium. So, predictably, Shesayne had rushed out and wasted twenty days of food budget on recordings. Astrid paced back into the kitchenette and carefully arranged the circuit boards onto a smaller worktable to free the dining table surface. The last light of the late afternoon spilled through the oval kitchen window, flooding the stone counter with a rich, orange light. Astrid rinsed out a dirty glass and opened the cold storage cabinet to pour herself some iced hibiscus tea.

- Robbery - she thought, sipping the astringent crimson tea by the windowsill, staring at the cracked wooden walls and the battered hardwood furniture. - Two hundred fucking Marks a week for a three room bedsit. - Property prices in Sigil had simply become ridiculous. A cloud of steam flowed forth from the bathing chamber and Shesayne finally stepped out, wearing only a blue shawl around her shoulders. Water still dripped down her coal-black hair as it fell in short tendrils around her pointed ears.

The half-elven girl stood in the threshold, there in the cramped hall in front of the bedchamber, her dragon-turtle comb in hand. "You look really first rate pretty with your shirt undone," Shesayne remarked quietly.

"Thank you." Astrid set down her glass and padded over to Shesayne. She took the bathing shawl from the waifish half-elf's shoulders and began to dry her hair. Astrid's movements were fluid, gentle. Shesayne huddled closer and wrapped her arms around her lover's waist. Astrid's skin was ever so mildly fragrant, perhaps a tiny hint of detergent from the fresh shirt she had been wearing and a fine hint of new sweat.

"Sorry..."

"No, it should be your day today. It's just that we humans sometimes get caught up in the more...superficial things in life." Elven music continued to float through the silence. "Now show me what you're going to wear."

"With great and genuine pleasure," Shesayne chirped with her usual enthusiastic hyperbole, nuzzling the valley between Astrid's breasts.

They stepped into the bedchamber and Astrid commanded the magical moonstone pyramid on the bedside table to come to life and emit an otherworldly, lunar glow. Shesayne skipped to her clothes chest and slipped on a voluptuously vermilion-rose sleeveless blouse that recalled the complex hues of the flower under starlight - cut so that the fabric appeared to flow around Shesayne's breasts and shoulders, whilst leaving the expanse of her belly and neck fully bared. Then came an even darker pair of succinct breeches, the colour of an ancient Fire Wyrm - which did little more than preserve Shesayne's modesty - upon which she superimposed a flimsy, bronze-bordered skirt with the gossamer lightness of an Elven fabric, which hung in three petal-like sheets down about a quarter of the length of the half-elf's thigh. Astrid leaned by the doorway, arms crossed, as she watched Shesayne preen in the glowing silver mirror in front of the clothes chest.

"Lovely..." Astrid breathed, though the inspiration for Shesayne's dress sense had always eluded her.

"Y'see what I'm trying to do," Shesayne explained, performing a dramatic turn to illustrate the brash sensuality of her outfit, "it's kind of a Sigil take on Elven styles - so I used High Elven fabrics, but with an imaginative cut - little inspirations I picked and pilfered here and there from humans, Drow, halflings..."

"As a practitioner of the arcane arts, I probably shouldn't say this, but you really never do cease to amaze me."

"I know." Shesayne said with a smug smile. With the judicious addition of a little gold-dust and crushed lapis-lazuli powder around her eyelids and Shesayne looked very much like a shockingly urban take on Elven womanhood. Fae-like, yes, but unrepentantly sensual. Shesayne finished by arranging her short hair with her comb in a suitably functional style. The milky lamplight seemed to illuminate the half-elven girl's skin, flowing into the chromatic complexity of her blouse. For an instant, Astrid could actually have believed that it was made of real rose petals.

"Are you certain you're ready?...Since this would be your first time - singing in public, I mean."

Shesayne subconsciously tightened her fist. In all honesty, she was a little anxious. "I dunno - they seemed pleased and satisfied with me when I applied for the evening slot. It looks like people're very interested in this brand-new, new-wave fusion stuff. Faenya and me practiced a couple of days ago and it all worked out to go pretty top-shelf well, so...I s'pose it's all up to Lady Luck."

"Faenya's going to be on the harp, correct?" Astrid took the opportunity to discard her shirt and breeches onto a blue-upholstered old armchair by Shesayne's dresser. She took the last clean bathing shawl and draped it across her shoulders.

"Yeah, we tried with a khalsyne lute but the sound was sort of sharp and jarring." Shesayne had teamed up with Faenya, the idle daughter of a wealthy family with musical aspirations of her own, to produce a contemporary, cosmopolitan take on traditional Elven music. Whatever the end result, it was one way to gain some exposure and earn a little money. Although she was not worried enough to say it openly, Shesayne knew that Astrid sometimes resented having to bear most of the expenses.

"I just hope she doesn't take it to be a game..." Astrid mused, strolling across the narrow hall and into the bathing chamber. She did not trust Faenya one jot. The High Elven girl was a poseur and a spoiled brat. Just because Faenya dyed her hair, pierced her ears and - if Shesayne was to be believed - had a platinum stud fitted onto her clitoris did not mean that, all of a sudden she could lay claim to being a denizen of Sigil's smoky, alternative arts scene.

"Nah, she's as serious as a dragon guarding its hoard." Shesayne said, more as a prayer than as a statement of fact. "It's a real shame Min can't be here, though, this would have been her kind of thing."

Astrid sighed to herself in resignation. As much as she enjoyed Min's company, there were times when she had the nagging feeling of being second to the tiefling in Shesayne's heart. It was not quite jealousy, but a sensation of mild irritation every time Shesayne sang Min's praises. So she resolved to ignore the comment. Instead, she turned on the sputtering porcelain water faucet and knelt in the oval bathtub, hoping that the sound of spraying water would silence Shesayne's comments long enough for her to change the subject. Astrid had no such luck. Shesayne peered through the half-open door of the bathing chamber. Mist shrouded the stone walls and covered the brass-framed mirror with a sheen of misty condensation. The rotating Music Sphere floated just behind the bathtub, humming out a mournful Grey Elven ballad.

"Next time Aerylle goes to Imej, we should tag along - I received one of her letters yesterday and it sounds wonderful and superbly fascinating." Shesayne sensed Astrid's frustration whenever Min's name was brought up. But she could not help it: Min and Shesayne had grown up together in Sigil. They had been adoptive sisters, best friends and intermittent lovers all at once and those were bonds rooted in their very souls.

"Maybe," Astrid replied coolly.

Shesayne silently closed the door and wandered back into the living room. Normally, she enjoyed watching Astrid bathe, observing the way the water caressed the human woman's long, supple limbs and matted her azure hair. But Astrid had been on edge lately. Shesayne lived with a visceral, unspoken fear that she was losing her. Her heart ached at the very thought of not being able to greet, tease and kiss Astrid each time she came home. But, Min had told her long ago, there were some forces in the Multiverse one had to accept, since even trying to understand them - let alone control them - would make one far unhappier than she already was. So Shesayne set out a fresh, sky-blue shirt and form-fitting beige breeches for Astrid on the Elven-embroidered crumpled across their bed. Then, almost as an afterthought, she made the bed.

***

Whenever Tahllea wanted to unwind, she went offworld. Imej was stifling. Imej was starchy, formalistic, full of schemers and hypocrites. Imej was heavy, repetitive and made Tahllea's mind dwell hopelessly on Sigrid. The godsforsaken Aasimar haunted her waking dreams. Each and every one of her fantasies were now about Sigrid as her meek, obedient, devoted lover - attending to her mistress' every whim, or staring sensually, clad in a see-through night shirt, from under the violet-petal strewn sheets of the vast bed they shared only in Tahllea's imagination. Thus, she had decided to take a couple of days for herself in Sigil, passing through a planar portal Yssinel had conjured up for her. Once she had passed through the swirling arcs of blue cosmic light, Tahllea emerged on the other side in an Elven mirror shop. It was almost a relief to smell the stony, humid, smoky air of Sigil. There was life there: life in the cut-throats, assassins, pickpockets, whores and rent-boys who dotted the streets like fallen stars in a dead night sky.

The idea of taking a swift, matter-of-fact holiday was, of course, to forget Sigrid. But Tahllea had come to Sigil with a recommendation from one of her brother's many debauched lovers. The Grey Elven man in question - a theatrical fop as far as Tahllea had always been concerned - had claimed that no trip to Sigil was complete without paying a visit to one of its finest emerging courtesans. Tahllea had found the human habit of commodifying sensuality as particularly repulsive - still, a small number of particularly amoral Elves she knew quietly indulged in such pleasures offworld. Thus, Tahllea had found herself in a luxurious office in front of an impeccably dressed ifrit woman quite seriously asking where she could contact a slender, athletic, elfin, indigo-haired, violet-eyed Aasimar; preferably impertinent and with a sharp tongue.

As usual, Tahllea had to settle for second best. Her Aasimar courtesan did not, objectively, disappoint. She was half-bralani: tall, thin, with rich, tawny skin, orange eyes and golden hair - not blonde, golden in the most wonderfully metallic sense of the word, and coiffed to stand in a straight, wavy pattern, like the licking tongue of a flame. The problem, of course, was that she wasn't Sigrid. She was far too refined, urbane and intellectual. They had gone to an art exhibit, the theatre to watch a long, stylised Star Elven play and finally had dinner in a private chamber of Sigil's finest Aquatic Elven restaurant which was, for ordinary customers, fully booked months in advance. By the end of it, Tahllea had found the experience more surreal than satisfying. The courtesan, who had deduced from the very first glance, that Tahllea was a Bladesinger, had spent their entire, late-night, candle-lit massage session discussing military history and bladecraft with terrifying intelligence. Even their lovemaking had been too perfect. The courtesan pre-empted all of Tahllea's needs and then invited the Bladesinger to toy with her, mount her, fuck her with a hand. In short, the courtesan had been everything a devoted lady should be for her beloved blademistress and, in that sense, no different than Yssinel.

That night, as she strode imperiously through Sigil's dimly-lit backalleys, her blue-mithril blade, Ilmaeria's Sorrow, as always by her hip, Tahllea mulled over the bright side of her trip. She had gained an important contact in the Aasimar courtesan who moved effortlessly through both Sigil and Imej high society. That was about it. She was no nearer to forgetting Sigrid. That was what brought her to the Celestial Ring, a quiet, genteel little tavern recommended by Aerylle. As expected, the clientele was almost entirely Elven. Tahllea felt a wave of warmth as she stepped inside the magically lit interior. Classically Elven arched, stucco ceilings gave way to a row of well-separated dining tables and a wide, elevated oblong stage.

A chestnut-haired maiden - probably High Elven, came to take Tahllea's cloak and usher her into the dining room. Hushed silence, broken only by quiet whispers contrasted pleasantly with the din of Sigil's vibrant nightlife outside. Aromatic, bluish smoke filled the air, wafting from tall, phoenix-shaped censers placed on the four corners of the room. An elongated bar, the only concession to human design, was virtually empty, aside from a mournful looking tiefling with obsidian-black hair and red skin, who looked like she could have well been a starving poet looking for love and inspiration.

"Welcome, milady Bladesinger. A cold evening, is it not?" the attendant maiden whispered in softly formal High Elven. She hung up Tahllea's cloak in a mahogany wardrobe and proffered a rose crystal goblet of heated pear-blossom wine.

"Quite..." Tahllea replied indifferently. The attendant was pretty and had a tasteful dress sense: amber-coloured robe consisting of numerous, interwoven strands of fabric which mirrored the effect of winding ivy. She was too soft, though, too inconsequential.

The attendant brought her to an empty table by the front row, between an interesting-looking blue-haired human woman and a muscular dwarf who looked almost comatose from drink. "Please, milady, make yourself comfortable." the attendant invited. "What may I serve you this evening?"

"Do you have partridge?" Tahllea ventured.

"Certainly."

"Then I shall have the pink-roast breast with a winter currant and leaf salad." Tahllea smirked triumphantly. She had been craving meat for months, but neither Yssinel nor Ilmaeria could stand the sight of it, so she usually confined her vice to holidays in more carnivorous destinations.

The attendant bowed to take her leave. Tahllea drank in silence, watching the empty stage and fluttering motes of enchanted light that danced between the airily-painted arches of the ceiling. Beside her, the human woman watched intently. She seemed nervous. Tahllea stole a more attentive glance. It had been a long time since she had bedded a human and this one looked like she could be worth her while. Strong, green eyes, elegant, almost sculptural features - the mysterious human was probably from Ortho stock. At least she wasn't blonde like most of her ilk. With thoughts of Yssinel and Ilmaeria grating her mind, Tahllea was ready to seek fresh experiences. Naturally, it helped that the human woman's hair reminded her of Sigrid in both cut and colour.

Tahllea drained her glass and watched the attendant gracefully make her way onto the stage. The lights re-focused and cast a deep, sapphire-blue glow on the performing floor. Curtains, shaped like giant lotus blossoms, bristled under the mental command of an unseen stage operator. "If I may beg for a moment of your attention," the chestnut-haired Elven maiden enunciated in a clear, lilting voice, "on behalf of your host, I am pleased to present the opening act of this evening's entertainment. With a blended, innovative sound that echoes the experiences of Elves in Sigil, we are most pleased to introduce Shesayne and Faenya."

Hushed whispers rolled across the room. A few latecomers, present for the show rather than for dinner, hastened through the door and settled in plush armchairs by the circular bar. Tahllea stretched in her chair and watched the curtains unfurl like a blooming flower. Shesayne - the name sounded vaguely familiar. On stage, what appeared to be an Elven singer clad in a decidedly un-Elven outfit took her position in front of her partner, and an admittedly attractive High Elven woman with shoulder-length hair dyed rose-pink and flame-red, clad in a matching black, spiderweb patterned blouse and black breeches. Tahllea grimaced. Even Elven women became exhibitionist little harlots after staying around humans for too long. Most scandalously, the harpist had three platinum rings in her left ear. That made Tahllea wonder where else the strumpet had seen fit to mutilate herself.

Silence, and then Faenya began strumming the first notes - quick, staccato and decidedly unconventional as an opening of an Elven ballad. Shesayne drew a quiet breath, imagined only Astrid was in the audience, and let the words pour from her lips. She focused on Astrid's encouraging gaze and, soon enough, as her tempo began to build, she felt the atmosphere warming to her. She and Faenya had compromised on the lyrics and arrangement, but certainly not on the multilayered nature of a traditional Elven piece. A brief human song was simply not satisfying for an Elven audience. So Shesayne was acutely conscious she had to maintain her pace in perfect synchronism with Faenya's increasingly rapid, strident harping.

It was then that Shesayne noticed someone at the table beside Astrid's observing her with the curious, predatory eye of a she-wolf. A coldly handsome Elven woman, pale-skinned with curled, short-raven dark hair, clad in a formal, high-necked shirt and steel-grey form-fitting breeches. Shesayne saw those penetrating, golden eyes fixed on her. She saw the woman smile, take a sip of her wine and watch the constant motion of Shesayne's slender limbs to the rhythm of the harp. The woman crossed her legs and reclined back in her chair. Her gaze was fire. It commanded attention. Shesayne was no longer looking at Astrid. Her song gathered intensity and the blademistress nodded her head - a tiny, imperceptible tilt that told Shesayne that she knew.

Tahllea observed the singer, observed flat, lightly muscled expanse of her belly, the pertness of her bottom and those smooth, slender thighs. A strumpet, to be sure, but a delicious one. She was probably a High Elf, Tahllea concluded, with an impudent, girlish smile on lips she decided would be quite pleasant to devour. Tahllea pressed her thumb pensively against the rim of her glass. The singer’s brash, suggestive smile told Tahllea one thing: the girl needed a little firm Elven discipline. The singer stepped forward, light sparkled from the enchanted anklet at the very top of her burgundy boot. Leaning forward, the singer's small, compact breasts strained against the tightness of her blouse. Tahllea did not even notice the attendant bringing her partridge. Her throat was dry, despite the wine. Her heartbeat quickened. Tension began to mount between her thighs. The first signs of dampness - the girl would pay for making her wet. The girl would lick her clean.

Shesayne brought her song to a sultry, understated climax, before Faenya channelled the piece to its conclusion with a humming, vibrant coda. Shesayne paused at the very edge of the stage, curtsied demurely and watched the blademistress. Golden eyes, fixed on her, just as they had been when the song began. Silence followed. Then, an approving murmur.

"Thank you," Shesayne said breathlessly. Elves manifested their approval silently, so that a performance's merit could be judged simply by concentrating on the aura given off by the audience. On all accounts, Shesayne and Faenya had been a resounding success. Astrid smiled warmly, very much moved by the palpable joy in Shesayne's expression. The human mage concluded that she had been too distant and too cold - it was time to show Shesayne how much their bond meant to her.

Shesayne and Faenya took their leave and melted backstage. Tahllea rose, as if she were going to the bathing chamber, but instead veered right in the shadows and infiltrated the backstage changing rooms. She made her way up a short, darkened stairway and heard Faenya and Shesayne exchange mutual compliments. Faenya's voice faded, declaring she desperately needed a drink. Tahllea stepped out of the stairwell just as Shesayne tried to return to the dining hall.

"Oh, hi!" Shesayne grinned, a little flattered and a little nervous.

"Impressive..." Tahllea said in lightly-accented Common, taking a step forward.

"Thanks, it's always nice to hear an Elf say that, especially since we're not exactly run-of-the-mill conventional." Shesayne's heartbeat echoed between her temples. Tahllea's gaze was hypnotic.

"You would be Shesayne?"

"Yeah..."

"Tahllea."

"Hmm, I guess I caught you staring, then, Tahllea..." Shesayne began, before realising she had backed into a wall.

Tahllea cupped Shesayne's cheek and ran her thumb over the sensitive skin of the half-elf's ear. Shesayne shivered. Tahllea pounced and Shesayne, much to the Bladesinger's surprise, simply opened her lips and met the older woman's tongue halfway. For an instant, their kiss was exploratory, then Tahllea thrust Shesayne against the wall and hastily stripped off the girl's skirt to caress the pert curves of the half-elf's bottom, tantalisingly shrouded only by a thin barrier of red fabric. Shesayne groaned and hooked one leg around Tahllea's waist, grinding her sex against the High Elven woman‘s thigh. The Bladesinger was already fumbling for the waistband of her cut-off breeches. Tahllea's breath was hot in her mouth, sweet with wine, the older woman's tongue skilled and demanding.

"Wait...wait..." Shesayne breathed raggedly and Tahllea licked her ear from base to point, drawing a whimpering moan.

"What?" Tahllea had snuck a hand under Shesayne's breeches to cup the firm curve of the girl's bottom, tight and warm.

"Meet me on the dance floor."

"I don't dance." Tahllea snarled.

"D'you want to lick me out, or was it just my wishful thinking?"

"Very well, but be quick about it."

Downstairs, the lights had been dimmed further, with a few enthusiasts trying their hand at a ritualised Elven dancing in an illusory garden grove, conjured to simulate the atmosphere of a moonlit glade. Tahllea felt out of place, so she hovered in the shadows, leaning on a wall, scrutinising Shesayne intently across the dining hall. The girl skipped out into the dining hall, exchanged a few lively words and an intimate kiss with the human woman and then dived into the spiralling anonymity of Elven dancers, heading straight for Tahllea.

"Sorry, I just had to settle that." Shesayne seized Tahllea by the hand and dragged her into the wall. The fabric of the wood shifted, letting them both slip through. It was an optical illusion - a tiny planar gate carved into the side of the tavern.

Tahllea found herself in a deserted booth, covered in blue silk cushions, illuminated by a single prism of dull orange light. Shesayne pounced on her, their kiss fierce and hungry. Their breath and the wet dance of their lips were the only sounds to pierce the air. Tahllea tore off Shesayne's top and felt hard nipples pebble against her hands. Liquid lust surged in Tahllea's loins. She thrust Shesayne against a wall, forced the girl's thighs apart and roughly pulled down her breeches. Shesayne bit her lip as her swollen, juicing sex was exposed to the cool air. She kicked off her boots and stepped out of her breeches. Tahllea moistened her lips. Shesayne was creamy with desire. The Bladesinger slipped her thumbs against the plump, hairless mound of Shesane's sex and parted the lust-swollen flesh. A flower, pink and steamy, bloomed. Petals, thick and heavy with pearly nectar hung ripe, begging to be licked clean. Shesayne smelled delicious, like tulips with more earthy musk than Tahllea had expected from an Elf. Tahllea decided it was probably the sweat and the tightness of the breeches.

Shesayne trailed her fingers through Tahllea's soft hair as the Bladesinger began licking hungrily at her sex. No, not hungrily, ravenously. Tahllea's tongue lapped in long, slow licks over the whole salty-sweet furrow of Shesayne's pussy - from channel to clit. It was real: real wet, female arousal under Tahllea's lips without perfume, lubricating oils or fine silks. Just pretty nectar-sodden petals that tasted of salt, earth, flowers and woman. She thrust three fingers, hard, into Shesayne's lust-sodden channel. The petite half-elf gasped and arched her back, grinding her pussy against Tahllea's lapping tongue and thrusting hand. The glistening little bud of Shesayne's clit burned under Tahllea's tongue, a little acorn free from its hood. Tahllea wound her fingers and pressed against the velvet of Shesayne's inner flesh. The half-elf let herself go. A knot of passion, thick and molten, unwound in her loins and deep in her sex. Her channel convulsed, spasmodic, hungry around Tahllea's fingers. Shesayne's mewling, high-pitched cries filled the air. She came hard, her convulsing sex clamping down on Tahllea’s fingers. She needed more.

Tahllea seized Shesayne by the waist and cast her down on the cushions, her lips slick with the half-elf's juice. Shesayne giggled, delirious with pleasure as Tahllea pinned her down, face against the cushions. In the darkness, Shesayne felt Tahllea's strong hands part the cheeks of her bottom.

"Oh, wow...you're moving fast..." the half-elf chuckled as she felt Tahllea's tongue, wet and insistent, lapping at the tight, musky crevasse between her bottom.

Tahllea stripped of her shirt and held Shesayne's bottom open, her tongue now firmly tonguing the half-elf's knotted rosebud. Shesayne moaned and ground her sex against the cushions, leaving slick, gooey trails. Tahllea's tongue dug in, coaxing the little star to relax, and before she knew it, Shesayne felt her bottom yield and something hot and wet slip just a fraction of an inch inside of her. She curled her toes into the cushions and began to gyrate her hips against Tahllea's mouth. Shesayne’s rosebud glistened like the lips of her sex. Ferns and almondy earthiness delighted Tahllea’s tongue - the girl was a perfect little toy. Shesayne squirmed, her nipples were stiff arrowheads, thrusts into the cushions, sending little jerks of pleasure flowing down her spine each time she trailed her movements caused her breasts to glide across the silk.

"On your back, spread your legs." Tahllea ordered abruptly, giving Shesayne's loosened rosebud one final lick.

Shesayne scrambled to comply, reclining on the cushions, knees bent, thighs parted, her drooling sex staining the cushions beneath with strands of sweet passion. Tahllea pulled off her boots and breeches and knelt between Shesayne's legs, sinking forwards to renew her wanton kiss with the half-elven girl. Shesayne felt the softness of Tahllea's elegant, conical little breasts, marvelling at how they merged into the hardness of the blademistress' flat, muscular belly. Tahllea positioned herself astride Shesayne, pussy to pussy, a wet, intimate nether kiss. Shesayne hooked a leg around the High Elven woman's neck and balanced herself on her back and bottom. Digging her feet into the cushions for support, Tahllea thrust forward, grinding her nether lips, slick and heavy with nectar, against Shesayne's.

Tahllea raised herself over Shesayne, thrusting, grinding, mashing her silken sex against the half-elf's demurely parted nether lips. Her clit glided deliciously over sticky, swollen flesh, spurring her thrusts. Tahllea licked two fingers and cupped Shesayne's bottom. A little pressure and she entered the half-elf's yielding, wet nether portal, hot and tight and clenching, defeated, around the base of her fingers. Shesayne mewled as Tahllea nipped hungrily at her ears, shoulders, licked the hollow of her neck, eliciting yet more sharp gasps from the half-elf and suppressed groans of pleasure from the Bladesinger.

"By Hanali, you are a loose little slattern." Tahllea said, halfway between a growl and a purr. Although she was too far gone to care much, Shesayne was not entirely flattered by Tahllea's tone.

With an unspoken command, Tahllea summoned a ball of sparkling golden light between her straining belly and Shesayne's. Shesayne arched her back and drove her sex harder against Tahllea, losing herself in a spiral of raw, pulsing pleasure. Heat and ecstasy flowed thickly in her veins. A spark of electricity flew from the ball of energy and struck Shesayne's clit. The petite half-elf gasped and struggled to free herself, but Tahllea held her down with a rough thrust of her sex in admonishment. A second spark followed, and then a third, alternating between Shesayne's clit and Tahllea's wanton little bud. Sharp, jarring pain gave way to pleasure, a deep, visceral twinge in her sex, flowing through her loins. Tahllea rode Shesayne for what seemed like an age, uncaring of the half-elf’s almost agonised peaks of pleasure, the spasmodic contractions of the girl’s rosebud around her invading fingers. She ground passionately against Shesayne, her muscles strained, her neck and the valley between her breasts drenched with sweat, until she finally felt the surge of sparkling electricity in her loins overpower her. Tahllea groaned, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out. The first spasms were painful, as if her blood had become fire, and then, very slowly, a wave of long, profound satisfaction swept over her. She thrust herself a few more times against the sloppy, nectar-drenched juncture between their pussies, just ride the last tremors of her climax.

Tahllea collapsed on top of Shesayne, panting, her sex aching. The High Elven Bladesinger feathered kiss down Shesayne's neck, over her cheek, butterfly-light, on the surface of her ear. Sigrid was far from her mind - a distant preoccupation. It had been months since she had last felt so satisfied, so much in control of her lover. Shesayne was the perfect, submissive little plaything. Tahllea made a mental note to keep in touch.

"I never knew Elves could be so...passionately raw..." Shesayne gasped, idly stroking Tahllea's muscular back. "But, hey, I guess I didn't do so badly for a half-elf, right?"

Tahllea tensed. "What?"

"By the Abyss you Bladesingers can be a teeny-little-bit dense...I said I don't think I did so badly for..."

"I know what you said, you ridiculous girl," Tahllea roared, "you are a half-elf?"

"Well, y'see, the funny thing 'bout that is that I always thought of myself as half-human...ah!" Shesayne cried as Tahllea seized her by the hair and dragged her to her feet.

"You impudent little harlot," Tahllea hissed.

"Hey, what the fuck's your problem?" Shesayne protested indignantly, deftly extricating herself from Tahllea‘s iron grip. "You barely introduce yourself before you stick your tongue in my mouth and I'm supposed to be the easy one? Fuck you, cunt!" The half-elf girl scrambled through her clothing, blinking back tears of rage.

"How dare you!" Tahllea said, softly but dangerously. "Halfbreed wretch, you are speaking to Tahllea of House Ahlirian."

"Halfbreed wretch? Well isn't that grand, sweet and convenient, you didn't seem so put off when you had your tongue in my..."

Tahllea hit her, hard. Shesayne crumpled to the floor, a trickle of blood issuing forth from her cut lip. "Open your mouth again and I shall gut you, understood?"

Shesayne sobbed and buried her face in the pillows. Tahllea dressed, briefly considered slapping Shesayne again for good measure, before deciding against it. Under the circumstances, she was the superior being. There was no point in stooping to Shesayne's level.

***

Sigil was frozen. A fine patina of ice had formed on the cobblestones and Shesayne's breath misted in the ear even as her tears dried on her cheeks. She hugged herself close and wondered aimlessly down an almost deserted street. A couple of drunken dwarves, singing out of tune, stumbled, balancing themselves against walls, clinging to one another as they proceeded raucously through the night. Shesayne could not go home. All that was right and good in the Multiverse would not allow it. Astrid deserved better. A fire beckoned in the distance. Shesayne approached, quietly, hugging the walls of the ramshackle, skeletal buildings that stretched off into the horizon. As always, it was a moonless, starless night. Points of light called warmly from the distant main streets, still full of revellers.

As she drew closer, Shesayne saw the fire flicker. By the porch of an abandoned building a girl, with short, red and golden flame-coloured hair, copper-tinted skin and sharp, fey-like features warmed herself by a floating ball of flame. She was wild-looking, her enigmatic, but pretty face hidden by dust and soot, her clothing functional and clearly second-hand: a man's shirt too big for her and red breeches. "D'you mind?" Shesayne whispered, approaching with hesitant steps.

The girl shrugged. "Customer hit you?"

"No...no, it's not that...it‘s not what you think"

"Then why are you here?" The girl's gaze was burning - red eyes the colour of molten metal.

"I'm cold."

"You lost?"

"No, not really."

"Then go home."

"Huh?" Shesayne knelt by the fire and observed the girl. Her fingers were long, dextrous - like those of a sorceress or a thief.

"There's nothing here."

"What's your name?"

"Fia."

"What do you do?"

"Look." Fia waved her hand and the sphere of flame split into five equal balls. Their contours smoothed, so that they became like tiny planets - then, with a dramatic sweep of her hand, Fia made the spheres align and begin to orbit one another in a swiftly flowing, intricate pattern.

Shesayne smiled. "Having a late night?"

Fia shook her head. "Sometimes I wait here - because people are hungry, cold, lonely - they need to talk. They need to warm themselves."

"Well, here I am..."

"This isn't a good place to be." Fia interrupted. "If I had a home and someone waiting for me in bed, I wouldn't be here."

"How do you..."

"Go home. Your fire is there. This is the fire for those who have no-one. Someone'll pass here, soon - I can feel it - but it isn't to be you." Fia gave a wan smile and gathered her spheres of fire into a single globe, forging it to have spots, rays and fiery bursts, just like a sun.

Shesayne nodded and rose. "Will I see you again?"

"Could be." Fia said and sat back, watching the featureless sky.

Shesayne hurried home. The landing in front of her apartment was dark, save for a single lamp that flickered, casting low shadows. She knocked at the door. It would have been impossible to go in uninvited.

"Astrid!" Her voice trembled.

Something stirred in the apartment. Soft footsteps approached and the door opened. Shesayne swallowed a knot of emotion in her throat. "Astrid..." she whimpered.

"What?" came the weary reply. Astrid stood in the doorway, still fully clothed. She looked exhausted.

"A hug would be nice..."

"Shesayne, words cannot begin to describe how worried I was." Astrid said tersely. At least Shesayne was making an effort not to cry and paint herself as the victim.

"I don't deserve to come home, do I?" Shesayne did not dare meet Astrid's gaze.

"If you're here, then you clearly wanted to come back."

"I did something terrible..." Shesayne's voice cracked. She hugged herself closer, staring resolutely at the floorboards.

"Come in." Astrid said at length.

Shesayne undressed, washed and prepared herself for bed in silence. Astrid locked the door, dimmed the lights, donned her night-shirt and watched Shesayne climb into her side of the bed and lie as close as possible to the edge.

"D'you think we should talk...?" Shesayne whispered.

"No. Not tonight." Astrid slid under the sheets and extinguished the light.

"Are you sad, angry, disappointed?"

"Maybe it's human to be a little of all three right now." Astrid replied, quite gently.

"I'm sorry..."

"Hush, here, don't be silly..." Shesayne felt Astrid draw her close. She could smell the human woman's skin, her hair, feel her soft, tickling breath. Shesayne snuggled close and buried her face against Astrid's heartbeat. "There we are," Astrid loosened Shesayne's comb and set it on the bedside table, "all nice and cosy."

“On Ortho there’s this story, y‘know, the really sad-depressing one...the ‘Little Match-Girl’” Shesayne breathed almost inaudibly.

“Yeah, I told it to you once...”

“It made me cry.”

“Me too...when I was a child.” Whatever Shesayne’s faults were, it was intimate moments like this that made Astrid realise how important the half-elven girl was for her.

“It’s just a story, right...” For an instant Shesayne thought of Fia. Life imitating art, or something stranger still?

“Of course, now go to sleep my treasure.”

“Tonight’s been a barmy, strange night...”

“It doesn’t matter - I’m just happy that we’re both back here, where we belong.”

Shesayne smiled through her tears. Astrid held her close. The lullaby of her heartbeat tenderly coaxed Shesayne into the world of dreams.

The next morning was cold and grey. Astrid awoke and found the bedchamber window had misted over. She squinted into the first light of day and instinctively reached under the covers for Shesayne. The mattress was still warm. Muted Elven music lilted in the air and the smell of hot almond oil and warm honey streamed from the kitchen. Astrid stretched and threw off the covers. Under her bare feet, the floor was cold and humid. She stepped into the living room and found Shesayne, still in her nightgown, carefully tending to a pan full of frying honey cakes. Clean, herbal vapours bubbled from a silver teapot set on the table with ceramic cups and an inviting pear compote.

"Morning, morning, morning." Shesayne called amiably. She served four honey cakes, golden-brown and oblong, onto a plate and poured some hot syrup on them. "Would you like some fresh tisane with that?"

"You shouldn't have." Astrid embraced Shesayne, and kissed the soft expanse of half-elf's coal-black hair.

"Thought I might as well try, y'know. It's my mother's recipe and I thought that seeing as I've been such a selfish bitch all this time, I'd better start showing that it's not just words when I say I love you."

Astrid smoothed Shesayne's hair with a loving caress and kissed the half-elf on the cheek. "Thanks, but you don't have to make me breakfast...even if it is appreciated every once in a while."

"About last night..."

"I don't want to know." Astrid interjected resolutely.

"Sure, another time then."

"Do you see us doing this, Shesayne...I mean every morning - waking up together, having breakfast, making love, going to bed? I don't want us to end up as bitter old women who keep complaining how they never got their fair shot at happiness."

"Well, as long as we can be bitter and old together, I'm not too concerned or bothered." Shesayne said fervently. She poured Astrid a cup of cinnamon and citrus tisane and set it by her plate of honey cakes. "Now come on, otherwise they'll get cold and you'll never get to experience Chef Shesayne's peerless cooking skills."

"Do you see us..." Astrid insisted.

Shesayne forced herself to smile. The shattering guilt of the previous evening's encounter had left her with the bittersweet sensation of having lost part of her innocence, of her joy for life. "I want to work on it. If we both work on it, me more than you - but if we both work on it, what we have can only grow better, I just wish it'd get easier..."

"It doesn't." said Astrid with a hint of bitterness. "But life is at its most beautiful when it's at its most difficult. When I saw you come home last night, I realised that you were my life. You were never going to be easy to love, but the reason I’m not angry is that, in the end, the beauty you bring is so much greater than any worry or frustration I could imagine."

Shesayne drew a soft breath and forced herself to dispel the lump in her throat. "I made five hundred Marks yesterday..." she said, swiftly changing the subject. A stray tear fell down her cheek. Astrid, quite discreetly, wiped it away with a flick of her thumb. Shesayne huddled closer to her lover, cursing herself for even having considered Tahllea a temporary substitute for the sheer joy that now swept through her.

"Please, let's not talk about money." Astrid took a seat at the table and began to attack Shesayne's honey cakes with some enthusiasm. They were a little oily, but otherwise perfect: feather-light and moist on the inside with the characteristic nuttiness of the almond oil.

"All right, but I'm bringing everything I earn home, understood..."

"Duly noted." Astrid quipped, far more interested in savouring her breakfast.

"So...if that's all resolved and settled, I've got to run."

By the time Astrid answered, Shesayne was already washing her face in the bathing chamber. "Since when do you have to turn up this early at work?"

"I don't, but today's my turn to do the laundry..."