#but also i love cat eye elves so half elf eyes range from looking human w/ wild colours to a faintly coloured sclera and a small iris

[fay-fluorite]

honestly 2000% of the reason i have to like concrete out the way i draw elves vs half elves is bc im gay and i really like drawing those goddamned satellite ears ok

im so gay for elves w/ Really Long Ears and i made my son a half elf and i love him

[amysgiantbees]

My Hero Academia 1A students sorted into DnD

If they don’t have a background then they have the scholar background as they’ve all attended the adventuring school Ultra Academy. 

So firstly Tsuyu Asui is a half Grung half human sailor shepherd circle druid. She has the Mobile feat. She uses a spear and light armour in battle. She isn’t particularly interested in the gods, but her favourite is Habbakuk, god of animal life and the sea, and she always makes sure to make offerings and prayers to all of the sea gods before making a voyage.

Katsuki Bakugo, he’s a 1/4 orc and human wild magic barbarian.* He has the Crusher and Chef feats. He uses two spiked maces and has minimal armour. His top stats are intelligence and strength, charisma and wisdom are his worst ones. He admires and occasionally prays to Heironeous but doesn’t like to rely or seak help from the gods. He knows common, orcish and sign language for both. His father, Masaru Bakugo, is a College of Glamour bard. His mother, Mitsuki Bakugo, is a College of Glamour bard who specializes in yelling very persuasively and having beautiful clothes.

Mina Ashido is a tiefling with a copper draconic bloodline for her sorcery. Her favourite spell is acid splash. She uses a sling and has no armour only incredible looks. She doesn’t particularly follow any gods but her favourite is Sune. She has the feats Alert and Performer. She’s proficient in both poisoners and herbalism kits.

Koji Koda is a shepherd circle druid firbolg hermit. He has the Animal Handler feature. He doesn’t usually use a weapon but carries a quarter-staff just in case. Follower of the neutral nature god Obad-Hai. His familiar is a rabbit (or an owl sometimes) named Mustard. Summon Nature’s Ally is his favourite spell. He knows Common, Elvish, Giant, Druidic sign language and can also speak common. 

Fumikage Tokoyami is a kenku ranger with a black eagle companion named Dark Shadow. He has the Crossbow Expert feat and Shadow Touched. He uses a heavy crossbow and has a ton of knives. He had a phase where he followed Tharizdun, god of eternal darkness before he admitted that he couldn’t follow a chaotic evil, treacherous god. He’s moved on to Kelemvor, the lawful neutral god of the dead (and Milil god of poetry and song). He really likes the Raven Queen too.

Izuku Midoriya is a multi class human Champion fighter and an Oath of Glory paladin. He has the Observant and Charger feats. He uses a sword and shield. His top stats are strength and intelligence, constitution is his dump stat. He has great respect for the gods in particular the demi-god All for One, Heironeous and Torm the god of self sacrifice and courage. He’s a paladin in the service of All for One but externally pretends to serve Heironeous. His father left when he was a baby and his mother is a baker and Divine Soul sorcerer who’s favourite spell is Mage Hand. He’s proficient in the calligrapher’s kit. 

Princess Momo Yaoyorozu is a human noble maverick artificer. She has the Skilled and Quick-Smithing features. She uses a quarter-staff. Her family follows the goddess of wealth and trade, Shinare. Their family symbol is the sun - as the sun is often a symbol of creation. So they also have a history with the god of Pelor, who also has the sun as their symbol. There is a sacred tree to Pelor in the family’s gardens. Her family rules from Musutafu the capital of Kara-Tur.

Prince Shoto Todoroki is a half elf half human noble sorcerer from white and red draconic blood lines. He has the feats Mage Slayer and Weapon Master and thus uses a rapier. He’s a prince on the run from his father currently going by the alias Perry (because I nicknamed him Katy Perry because he’s hot and cold... I know I’m hilarious). He doesn’t follow is merely very respectful of the gods.

Denki Kaminari is a human storm sorcerer. High charisma, low intelligence. He has the War Caster and Linguist features. He has a lightning rod like staff. When he’s out of spell slots roll a D4. Even he’s fine, odd and he’s short circuited and his intelligence is down to 1 until he’s had a short rest. If the last spell he casts hits though he does triple damage. He is a follower of the storm god Kord, part of the Greyhawk pantheon.

Yuga Aoyama is a scourge aasimar college of glamour bard who at 10th level will have moonbeam as one of his Magical Secrets spells. He uses prestidigitation CONSTANTLY for sparkles. He uses a dulcimer and a light crossbow. He’s also proficient in the shwam and pan flute. He’s a follower of Sune, goddess of love and beauty.He has the feats Fey Touched and war caster.

The Honourable Tenya Ida has a custom mix of both the backgrounds noble and inheritor. He’s a centaur Open Hand monk. He multi-class’ three levels into Clockwork Soul sorcerer to get haste (he comes from a long line of Clockwork Soul transmutation sorcerers). He has the feats Mobile and Inspiring Leader. He has a short sword and an empty fist for battle. He favours Paladine, god of rulers and guardians. His family is the lord and lady of Neverwinter.

Mashirao Ojiro is a Swiftstride shifter Way of the Open Hand monk. Swiftstride shifters are known for being dexterous, graceful and quick. So they often have features from, when they shift, feline creatures. Ojiro grows a tail when he shifts that’s somewhere between a cat and monkey or a kangaroo, making him particularly agile. He also sometimes has animalistic eyes and teeth when he shifts. He has the Martial Adept and Athlete feats. He just uses his fists to fight. He follows Majere, god of meditation and honor. Dexterity is his top stat, charisma is his worst one.

Ochaco Uraraka is an air genasi, a pinky orange one like a cloud at sunset. She’s a transmutation wizard, with one of the spells in her book being levitation. She has the feats lightly armoured and tavern brawler. She uses her fists in hand to hand usually but she’s got daggers stashed on her too. Her favourite deity is Dol Arrah, goddess of sunlight and honour. 

Eijiro Kirishima is an earth genasi (although he dyes his hair and ends up confusingly looking like a fire genasi). He is a Path of the Bear Totem Barbarian warrior. He has brown, earthy skin and eyes like rubies. Also he has the Tough and Durable feats. He likes to use his fists or a great-sword. He’s a somewhat casual follower of the Path of Light - a philosophy of light and self-improvement. He also follows Kord, god of storms, athletics and sport.

Rikido Sato is a goliath path of the berserker barbarian. But instead of a typical rage he eats sugar to help him get into the mind set and make it more powerful. This is from his parents who are both bakers and bards. Their bardic magic comes from the alluring quality of their cooking instead of music or sex appeal. He inherited a bit of this baking magic which is how he can do this. If he spends an action before entering a rage eating something high in sugar he gets to double his rage attack bonus die for the next three rounds. He also has the Tough and Durable feats (maybe chef too). He likes to use his fists or a great-axe. He isn’t overly interested in the gods but his favourite is the neutral god of stone giants and art, Skoraeus Stonebones. 

Mezo Shoji is a wild-hunt shifter, which are known for their sharp and insightfulness. The animal that he borrows aspects from is the starfish. Which can have between five to eight arms with an eye on each. He’s a way of the Astral Self monk, with an incredibly high perception. He has the Observant and Alert feats. He’s a hand to hand man. He likes Balinor, god of beasts and the hunt best.

Kyoka Jiro is a human bard from the college of valor. She’s proficient in all instruments. She has the keen mind feat and performer. She has a slingshot too. She likes Branchala, god of music best.

Hanta Sero is a human conjuration Clockwork soul sorcerer. The sticky floor spell is one of his favourite spells, and has the Empathic feat. He uses a whip. He’s not particularly interested in following any deity in particular but has a soft spot for Kord since like half his bros follow him. He’s proficient in herbalism kits. his beanie/wizard hat is his arcane focus. 

Toru Hagakure is a changeling arcane rogue. She has the Shadow Touched and skulker features. She has lot of KNIVES! The deity she favors is Leira, chaotic neutral goddess of illusion. Her parents told her that when she was born she was blessed and chosen by Leira with a birthmark of her symbol - a spiral in a triangle - on her left hand. Which is why her changeling abilities are so powerful as to let her go invisible.

Minoru Mineta just doesn’t exist. It sucks that possibly the only character with dwarfism in the show is such a creep but there’s barely anything else in his character to build on so he’s just not there. If he did though he’d be a gnome wizard who favored the sticky floor spell best (like Sero) and long range attacks. He’d respect women and tend to hyper-focus on things he likes. He has a very dirty mind and loves inappropriate jokes but isn’t a dick about it. He’d follow Olidammara, chaotic neutral god of revelry. 

* I think that having racial attributes like greater strength in orcs is BS and I’d rather delegate attributes according to culture, or more background details. Which is why Bakugo is part orc. Because I like the head-cannon that many orc tribes value self sufficiency highly and that asking for help should be a special sign of trust and mutual respect. Which resonates a lot with Bakugo’s character. Similarly high elves have a reputation for aloofness and coldness as they view no mistake as insignificant. You never know whether a hundred years down the road it might come back to bight you in the ass. So carefulness is prized by many. But there are cultural subsets and it changes by country. Just a lot less racism and a lot more cultural diversity. 

[i-am-the-inksinger]

My entry for The Purple Room's 2019 Random Romance Challenge, wherein each participant was assigned a randomly generated romance title and asked to write a PG-13 fic based on it. My prompt was, "Nymphs with Blonde Hair."

Warnings for recreational drug and alcohol use, aphrodisiacs, allusions to public sex, morally bankrupt elves, and a dash of mild fantastic racism.

___

Somewhere between his third puff off the hookah and sixth (seventh?) glass of plum wine, Thassarian had become convinced that Koltira had invited him to Quel'Thalas largely in an attempt to kill him.

Now, he couldn't say for sure why the ranger had decided to kill him, or why he couldn't have just slit his throat and been done with it, but between Thassarian's sudden hypersensitivity to sound and the warm, increasingly uncomfortable throb of his loins, it was the only logical conclusion to be drawn.

Normally neither of these afflictions would be any big deal - the sound sensitivity could be taken care of easily enough by simply removing himself to someplace quieter, and the sudden rigidity in his trousers could have been dealt with either on his own or with Koltira's expert assistance. In fact, both could have been managed, under normal circumstances, by simply absconding with Koltira to some quiet, out-of-the-way little nook or backroom for an hour or three. Surely Koltira would have paid mind to the way Thassarian winced at every word or sound that went beyond the acceptable volume for a private conversation. The elf could be a sadist in bed, but he wasn't a monster.

Or… so Thassarian had believed, in any event. Now, settled in a back corner of a pleasure house whose name he couldn't recall - one of dozens littered throughout Dawnspire, if Koltira was at all to be believed anymore - with his ears ringing, his pants becoming more uncomfortably tight by the minute, and surrounded on all sides by laughing, canoodling elves (and one dwarf, who looked not at all as terrified as Thassarian felt,) he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he had been mistaken all along about Koltira.

Maybe this had been Koltira's plan all along: Seduce some poor, helpless young soldier until he was practically eating out of the elf's hands, then lure him to his death by hookah smoke and drugged wine in the middle of an elvish brothel as some sort of mad ranger sport.

At least… he thought the wine was probably drugged. Then again, he'd never had plum wine before, so maybe it was just the tobacco in the hookah that he was reacting to - only he'd had tobacco before, chewed it and smoked it through wood pipes, so that couldn't be right, could it?

Perhaps the tobacco was drugged. Could hookah tobacco be drugged…?

There was a chuckle at his side, low and sultry in a manner that did nothing at all to help the… issue… in his trousers. Equally unhelpful was the languid shift of the warm, lithe body next to him, or the sudden wash of warm, wine-sweet breath across his ear as Koltira leaned much too close to him.

“Still with us, Thassarian?” Koltira asked, and Light, if his voice didn't sound like so much warm honey being poured from a perfect, handcrafted jar…

“Oh, he's with you, certainly,” another elf said - Jarrod, Thassarian thought. Another of Koltira's ranger friends, redheaded and ruddy-skinned and too damn loud. “Look at him. He's practically falling apart at the seams.”

“Maybe we should have warned him about the hookah.” That was a woman, speaking from somewhere behind Koltira. “Smoulder is a pretty strong blend, and you said he's new to this.”

“He's fine,” Koltira said, leaning away from Thassarian just enough to let a burst of cool air blow between them. Then he leaned close again, and asked in a softer tone: “You're fine, right? Still in there?”

His head felt light, and for some reason he had a bit of difficulty tracking movement with his eyes, but somehow Thassarian managed to turn to look at Koltira and, with all the dignity and poise he could muster, actually answered his question.

“Uhm,” Thassarian said, sounding quite confident to his own badly ringing ears. Then, because it felt important that this be clarified, he added, “Should I… be able to smell the color purple right now?”

It was a nice smell, purple, only he was relatively certain he hadn't previously been able to smell any colors. He was also relatively certain that this new development should perhaps bother him significantly more than it currently did.

“That depends,” another elf commented from across the low table, scratching his honey-colored goatee thoughtfully. “What's it smell like?”

Thassarian considered that.

“Kind of sweet,” he said after a moment. “Like… like honeysuckle and sandalwood. And tobacco.”

“Purple smells like tobacco, hm?” The elf - Thaerin, wasn't it? Saerin? Saeros? - nodded very seriously. “We've learned something new today.”

The dwarf across the room whooped suddenly, her fiery braids flying wildly about as she and a black-haired she-elf went toppling sideways across the cushioned booth they shared.

The ruckus they stirred up carried easily over the din of the bustling pleasure house and was soon followed by a swell of drunken leers and laughter, and Thassarian's ears rang painfully with the noise - though he was pleased to see that he didn't seem to be the only one unhappy with the commotion. Three of his four elvish companions cringed, as well; if the lady elf with them reacted, Thassarian couldn't see it with Koltira sitting where he was. They'd all smoked off the same hookah, though, and for all the wine Thassarian had drunk, at least two of the elves had had more still. He knew Koltira had downed at least an entire bottle on his own.

“Maybe we should go somewhere a bit… quieter,” Koltira said, still wincing. His long, slender ears were pinned back against his head in clear agitation, and his body no longer lay slumped quite so fluidly against Thassarian's side.

“We have a room reserved,” the lady elf commented. “Upstairs - if nothing else, we can try to wait out all the noise,” she added, and somehow she sounded doubtful.

“It'd be a waste of a room,” Jarrod snorted. “Sit around and do… what? Play pachisi until everyone else screws each other into a drunken coma?”

The throb in Thassarian's loins picked up at that, deep and intense enough that he was sure he could feel his face twisting in response - not so much from the discomfort, but from the sudden need that came with it.

Was sex an option…?

Koltira twitched beside him, and his long ears began to turn a wonderful, peachy shade of pink at the tips as he shot Thassarian a pointed look.

“Well, we could always have a go at each other,” the lady elf was saying. She still sounded uncertain. “Only… we went and got Koltira's human all turned about. I'd hate to take advantage.”

“I wouldn't,” Thassarian heard himself say through the low thrumming in his ears.

Four elvish heads craned about to fix him with looks that ranged from incredulous to deeply contemplative, and Thassarian found himself thoroughly distracted by their gleaming, crystalline eyes. Like stars, they were - bright, clever stars, far too clever for something so very pretty--

“Wouldn't… what, exactly?” Koltira asked, leaning close again and looking up at Thassarian through his long, pale eyelashes. There was something endearing about the expression on his face, and Thassarian suddenly had to work very hard not to lean down and plant a soft kiss on the elf's full lips… though, at the moment, he wasn't sure why he was resisting the urge at all. Propriety was a foreign, half-forgotten concept, and nothing else occurred to him at all that might be a decent reason not to simply pounce Koltira and be done with it.

Perhaps it was muscle memory. Damn the thing.

“I wouldn't mind,” Thassarian said, low and careful, “being taken advantage of, just at the moment.”

Koltira's eyes darkened with lust, and Thassarian very nearly lost the battle to refrain from snapping forward and pinning Koltira back against the cushions. He succeeded only because Koltira beat him to the punch, lunging forward and claiming his lips in a kiss that was mostly teeth while his momentum sent them both tumbling across the booth in a heap.

Like a dam bursting, the throbbing, driving heat in his loins spread into his limbs all at once, inflaming him as all the world began to blur away into a thick haze. All he could register now were the sharp teeth at his lips, and the hands sliding up his shirt and down beneath the waistband of his trousers, and the swift-burning heat that seared his flesh in their wake.

“Well, isn't this a lovely sight to stumble across.”

Koltira startled, then shoved away with a hiss. Thassarian followed suit; he didn't quite recognize the voice that had spoken, but he was in elf lands and trusted Koltira enough besides to follow his lead when the ranger started acting like a cat on a hot tin roof.

The other elves at their table were as stock-still as Koltira, and when he followed their guilty looks to the cause Thassarian understood why. It probably wasn't every day that a ranger captain came along to watch them canoodle in the back of a pleasure house, let alone their own captain. Halduron Brightwing might be rumored to be one of the most laid-back elves among the Ranger Corps, but he was respected and feared in equal measure - with good reason, if any trace of Koltira's horror stories were to be believed.

That Halduron was smiling gently down at them didn't help matters one bit.

“Captain… Brightwing,” the lady elf managed to choke out. “Er… Good afternoon, sir.”

“And a happy Feast to you,” Halduron returned, and his gentle smile widened to show perhaps a few too many teeth as he turned his attention squarely on the lady elf.

The lady elf's ears flicked nervously, and she couldn't seem to manage more than an uncomfortable fluttering of her eyelashes before Halduron turned back to the group at large.

“You certainly seem to be making the most of your holiday,” Halduron said, sliding down onto a cushion between Saeros and Jarrod and looking so at ease that, for just a moment, Thassarian decided the other elves were simply overreacting. Surely their captain was just here to check in, or perhaps toss back some wine or take a drag from the hookah.

And then Halduron's sharp, silvery-blue gaze flicked to Thassarian, and Thassarian dazedly marveled at the speed with which his life passed before his eyes.

“And I see you've invited a friend along this year,” Halduron continued, and the winsome, ostensibly welcoming look he trained on Thassarian sent a prickle of genuine unease racing down the latter’s spine. “Thassarian, wasn't it? How wonderful to see you again! I hope the festivities haven't been too… extravagant for you; we tend to be rather enthusiastic about our springtime holidays, and you wouldn't be the first outsider caught off guard by it all.”

Thassarian blinked.

“I, uh…” Damn the drugs and damn his tongue. Maybe Halduron would be merciful and kill him quickly if he stammered long enough.

Halduron grinned, and again Thassarian was struck by the impression that the expression was toothier than it strictly needed to be as the captain laughed and said, “I see you've already had a hit or two from the hookah. I hope my men haven't given you anything too potent; you don't strike me as the smoking type.”

“Naw,” Thassarian said, slurring his consonants and slipping into a light drawl as he scrambled to sound as relaxed as Halduron looked. “I smoke a wood pipe back ‘ome. ‘M jus’ not used to… uh… think they called it ‘smoulder’…”

Four elvish heads ducked back as though they'd had flicked with cold water; beside him, Thassarian distinctly heard Koltira make a soft, keening little whine in the back of his throat, sounding like nothing so much as a dog nursing a bad leg as Halduron's eyes flashed with sudden interest.

“They gave you Smoulder?” Halduron asked, leaning forward just a hair. “Really? How do you find it?”

Thassarian considered that for a moment, largely because he had to figure out what the grinning elf sitting across from him meant by “finding it.”

“Kinda sweet,” he finally said. “Smoky-sweet. Pretty good stuff, actually; think I took a couple hits of it,” he added with a grin. There; surely that would put Halduron at ease, right? It wasn't like his rangers had forced anything nefarious on Thassarian. He'd sucked down whatever blend they were burning all under his own power, completely of his own volition.

Halduron grinned again at Thassarian's companions.

“This must be a gentler blend of Smoulder than I'm familiar with,” Halduron said, catching and holding the gaze of each ranger in their turn, “if you all thought it a good idea to let him take multiple draws of it - alongside a serving or three of wine, no less, from the looks of your table.”

The silence that settled around the group became thick, nearly palpable, and suddenly none of the other elves seemed able to meet Halduron's bright eyes any longer.

Thassarian frowned as he took in their behavior, and slowly began to wonder if perhaps he should not have mentioned what kind of tobacco he'd been smoking. Somehow he had the impression that Halduron wasn't as unconcerned by the information as he looked, and by now Koltira and the other elves all looked as though they were about twenty second from receiving a death sentence.

Maybe it was wiser not to correct the captain's guess about the amount of wine he'd had to drink…

“Shall I take your silence as a ‘no,’ then?” Halduron asked, and for all he sounded friendly, even conspiratorial, Thassarian imagined he heard the slightest edge to the captain's voice.

Four sets of red-tipped ears pinned back uncomfortably, but it was Saeros who ultimately spoke up.

“It, ah,” the blond stammered. “It's… the usual stuff, Captain. Same amount. Same, ah… potency.”

Addled as he was by the heat still slogging through his veins, even Thassarian could guess that this was a bad thing to have admitted to Halduron. They should really have tried lying to the captain, although it was probably too late to change tack now.

“In their defense, they all smoked it, too,” Thassarian put in, because surely if he knew everybody here was intoxicated, Halduron would be less inclined to think badly of his rangers.

Koltira made the whining noise again, and this time Thassarian distinctly felt a long fingernail jab him urgently just under the ribs.

Halduron turned another gentle smile on Thassarian, and this time the prickle it sent along the human's spine was one of fear.

“Oh, dear, we have been naughty,” Halduron said once the silence had grown uncomfortable, and now his voice was soft, too - soft like steam coming off a cup of hot cider, soft like the clearest and last warning anyone was going to get before one wrong word brought disaster down upon their heads.

Thassarian chewed down on the inside of his cheek and resolved to stop talking.

Halduron shifted, drawing one knee up to prop under his arm and leaning back on his other hand as he watched the group squirm for another moment. Desperate not to meet the man's shining gaze again, Thassarian let his attention wander to the rest of the pleasure house. Nobody else seemed even to notice that Halduron was here; the rest of the place was still alive with rowdy laughter and drunken canoodling. The dwarf lady was sandwiched now between two very enthusiastic elves where she lay sprawled across a low table, and yet it still seemed that she was the one in control as they…

Thassarian swallowed hard and looked away, but the look had already done its damage, stoking the warmth in his loins once more and making his limbs feel at once leaden and weightless as he looked down at the innocuous table before him.

It was a nice table. Good, sturdy wood, well-polished and soft under his calloused hand, low enough to the floor that it might almost be a bed frame rather than a place to eat - although, of course, there was quite an array of delicacies surrounding him either way, and he could imagine they were all simply bursting with warmth and sweetness…

There was a loud slap of skin against wood, and Thassarian jerked out of his spiraling thoughts to see Halduron leaning forward and smiling at him again, starlike eyes glittering from under a pair of delicately sweeping eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“Stay with us, Thassarian,” the captain ordered, and… and yes, it did register as an order, just enough for Thassarian's spine to straighten of its own accord, though the throbbing lower down didn't relent in the slightest as Halduron continued, “We don't want you making a mess of yourself out in front of the whole house.”

“…Right,” Thassarian muttered, scratching at his jaw in an attempt to distract himself from thoughts of messiness.

“I would imagine the same is true of your friends,” Halduron added, though his gaze rested squarely on Koltira as he spoke. “I'm quite certain none of them intended to drag you into a drug-addled orgy in the middle of such a crowded space. Behind closed doors, maybe, but certainly not in the middle of the lounge in one of Dawnspire's busiest pleasure houses - on one of the most ardent days of the year, no less.”

Somebody whooped from the dwarf’s table, and one of Halduron's long ears twitched ever so slightly towards the sound.

“We aren't dwarves, after all,” Halduron said, the corner of his mouth twitching for an instant. “Nor noble-bred idiots with more silk than we know what to do with. We ought to at least pretend to have some scrap of dignity.”

We. He kept saying we, and try as he might Thassarian couldn't help but be distracted by that tiny little detail.

“We did have a room reserved.” That was the lady elf, speaking up again for the first time since Halduron had arrived. “We were about to head for it, only…”

“We were… distracted,” Koltira said.

His voice seemed to shudder through Thassarian's very bones. With its passing, what little sense Thassarian had left evaporated again, and he moved to close with Koltira once more - only to stop as Koltira placed a firm hand against his chest and shook his head. Confusion, more than any conscious decision to behave, kept Thassarian pinned in place. Why was Koltira stopping him…?

“Ah,” Halduron said, though he sounded much farther away as Thassarian stared hard at Koltira's reddened face. “I see the problem: We have a mated pair in our midst.”

Koltira's blush spread down to his lithe neck, and were it not for the hand he kept against Thassarian's chest the human might lean down to steal a kiss or three along the corded muscles there. Koltira certainly didn't look as though he would have minded…

Someone clapped their hands, once and loudly so, and the sound was just enough to startle Thassarian back to reality, even if only for an instant.

“Right then,” Halduron said, rising to his feet and beckoning for the group to follow him. “Let's us be off, hmm? It seems as though Thassarian can't hold out much longer, and I think it might be cruel to try to make him. Show me this room you've got, and let's try not to take the scenic route, if it can at all be helped.”

“You're… coming along?” Jarrod asked, pausing as he helped Thassarian to his feet to stare at Halduron.

“I think it might be wise,” Halduron replied, and for once his smile seemed more roguish than faintly menacing. “Someone has to play the responsible adult - which is to say, poor Thassarian may need some help keeping the four of you at bay, and if my holiday must be impacted by my own foolish rangers, I think I deserve at least some sort of compensation.”

Koltira began towing Thassarian away then, laying his warm, sharp-nailed hands on the bare skin of Thassarian's arm, and whatever hazy compunctions Thassarian might have had about Halduron tagging along vanished in another heady undertow as he let himself be led into the bowels of the pleasure house.

Strange creatures, elves - but beautiful enough it didn't matter, he supposed.

[feynites]

I’m sorry @selenelavellan but the prospect of Selene becoming a semi-unwilling Cat Lady who Owns No Cats but also No Really None of Them Are ‘Cats’ was too good to pass up!

It is Des who comes up with the plan.

 “Humans love cats,” he insists. “I have seen it on the light boxes. All we have to do is look like cats. Then we can find sugar daddies and live like royalty!”

 Fear is the most reluctant.

 “Humans do not love cats,” they insist. “Humans tolerate cats. They throw boots at them, and drown them in rivers. I have seen it.”

 Des shakes his head.

 “You just have to find the right sorts of humans,” he insists. “Or elves. Dwarves. Whoever. The race is not important, the important thing is to find one with a nice house and very little companionship with its peers. Then it will pack bond with anything sufficiently cute and cuddly - like me.”

 “You are just going to get drowned in a river again,” Fear insists.

 “No. I am going to get us safe access to dreams and adoring tribute again,” Des replies, equally adamant.

 In the end, the two do not come to an agreement. But that is not so uncommon. Des vows to go through with his plan, and come back once he has ascertained its effectiveness. Fear pretends to worry less than they do when he disappears for several works, and sends no word back.

 Not at first, at least.

 Some of the skepticism towards the plan thaws when a full month has gone by, and Des does come back.

 He is wearing the cat form he designed for the venture. In his mouth, he is carrying some kind of totem. It is shaped roughly like a bird, and is clearly of mortal make. He spits it out onto the ground before them, and then sits back on his haunches, and radiates self-satisfaction.

 “I have found a benefactor,” he claims. “She is an elf. She lives in the village of Redcliff, above a shop which sells repositories of mortal knowledge. For three weeks I have stayed with her. No one else has visited in that time, and she has offered me food, and let me sleep in her bed, and stroked my fur every day. And now she has given me a token of worship.”

 Dirthamen can confess some fascination with the described situation. He is the first to venture closer, though Fear remains cautiously at a distance. Examining Des’ aura; checking to make certain that he is uncorrupted.

 The totem is small, but it does not vanish under the weight of his scrutiny, as an illusion would. And Des looks supple and well cared-for, his magical energies rejuvenated in a way that upholds his claims. Spirits are not mean to be completely disconnected from the physical world. It takes a toll on them; leaves them more vulnerable to certain types of corruption, even as it protects them from others.

 “Alright, so, the plan is a success - you can all come back with me,” he proclaims.

 “Definitely not,” Fear argues. “Just because this elf is willing to indulge you, that is no guarantee that she would not try and drown the rest of us.”

 This is a fair point. Des is among the most charming of them, after all.

 They debate it for some time, before an agreement is reached.

 Affection was young when the Veil was raised, and is nearest to vanishing from the lack of mortal contact. Des shows the little spirit how to transform, and Affection takes on the shape of a short, wide-faced cat, with stripes all along its form. A little more than half the size of Des, who declares the form ‘perfect’, and takes Affection with him to the mortal plane again.

 Fear’s worries intensify. Several more weeks pass, but Dirthamen and Deceit are more calm and cautiously optimistic of the situation.

 A stance which is validated when Des and Affection return.

 Des has another totem in his mouth. This one looks somewhat like an overly fat fish. Affection, on the other hand, is carrying what looks like some kind of knit foot covering. They deposit the items, while Fear examines them at range, and Dirthamen and Deceit move to greet them again.

 “It is just as Des said!” Affection exclaims; tail twitching excitedly back and forth. “Selene is a fabulous benefactor! She gives us food and touches us often, and lets us sleep with her and gambol in her dreams! And she is very warm, and has a box of something called lon-derry that is perfect for regaining energy in! I brought some to show.”

 Dirthamen pokes curiously at the lon-derry, and then examines the second totem.

 “Alright, but surely this elf will not accept more than two interloping felines,” Fear insists.

 “Of course she will, she loves us,” Des counters. “You should all come along now, and we will live like royalty. Just as I said.”

 More arguments ensue. But this time, Dirthamen decides to interject.

 “You will go, Fear,” he decides. “Along with Deceit. Go back with Des and Affection. If this mortal rejects you, you are both quick and clever enough to escape. And if you think she has reached a limit, then I am at least the most powerful, and best suited to survive alone here.”

 “We are not going to abandon you,” Fear insists.

 “No, and I did not tell you to,” Dirthamen replies. “But you could visit and share your tributes with me, if this mortal is willing to offer you such things. And I would do better than anyone else in that situation.”

 “Are you certain?” Deceit asks, as Fear wavers unhappily in place.

 Dirthamen is firm in the choice. It is the most reasonable one to make. Des has proven his case, but there is still some merit to Fear’s caution. They debate some more, but he knows that he is unlikely to be overruled. It is rare for him to make commands at all - he is almost always obeyed, when he does.

 This time is no different.

 Fear and Deceit take on the shapes of two sleek, short-haired black cats, and go with Des and Affection. Dirthamen spends the next few weeks alone, before all four of them return again.

 Des has brought another fish-totem, and Affection has some more lon-derry. Deceit has brought the roasted leg of a hen, and Fear has some sort of device that lets a light out from one end. But the demonstration of tributes is not nearly as necessary as the sight of Fear inclining their head towards Des.

 “The plan was a good one,” they say, with only a little terseness to their tone. Des smugly licks at one of his paws. “You should come back with us.”

 So Dirthamen takes on the shape of a cat. Not choosing it so much as finding it. He ends up slightly bigger than Fear or Deceit - or maybe ‘fluffier’ would be the more apt description. Long-haired and blue-eyed, with the same dark fur. His companions leave the tributes behind in their lair, and they cast a warding spell to protect it in their absence; powered by the mortal offerings.

 Then they all cross through the Veil, and into the waking world.

 It has been a long time since Dirthamen made that trip. He nearly loses his shape for a moment, before Deceit and Fear wind around him, and him remember it again. Des takes the lead, then; ushering them out of the woodland cave where the Veil is thing, and towards the obvious signs of mortal settlements.

 Loud constructions rumble down paved roads. Even though it is dark out, light floods the environs close to the settlement. Not magelight, but or at least not primarily that kind. Instead this is the light of stolen storms, that the sundered mortals have forged into a likeness of magic.

 Dirthamen is fascinated with it. But Fear and Deceit keep him moving, and stop him from lingering beneath the glow of a stormwrought banner.

 It is a long trip. Or perhaps it only feels that way because it has been some time since Dirthamen travelled. He had forgotten, mostly, what it was like to be in things like weather and wet. The brush they pass through smells sweet, though, and a petrichor scent lingers around the stones of mortal construct. Des pauses at some intervals, to let the noisy constructs pass, before meowing to signal the rest of the group forward.

 The moon is high when they come to a line of buildings. Shop buildings, by the looks of them. And indeed, Des leads them to one with a window full of books, and then around to the back of it. There is a narrow set of railings which they all ascend, then. Moving one at a time. Dirthamen’s coordination nearly fails him, but he only needs to stop a few times along the way. Des is the first to disappear into an open window, to be greeted by the sound of a friendly voice.

 “There you are!” says the voice.

 Des meows in return.

 “And where’s the rest of the gang?” the voice - the mortal; Selene, he supposes - asks.

 Affection follows Des, and then Deceit leaps through.

 “Two, three - where’s your partner in crime?”

 Fear lingers long enough to ensure that Dirthamen makes it successfully up the last bit of railing, and then heads through the window themselves.

 “And, four! Okay, good, there’s supposed to be a big storm tonight-”

 Dirthamen reaches the window just as a brown hand reaches out towards it.

 The mortal Selene turns, and sees him. Her eyes widen in surprise.

 Dirthamen had not harbored much in the way of preconceptions about Selene. But for some reason, he does think he had imagined her somewhat… older? Plainer, perhaps? Des had not extolled her beauty, as he might expect him to do, given the elf he is faced with. But then again, the plan is obviously not to seduce her. Perhaps Des had simply not thought the information relevant.

 Selene’s hair is pale, and her eyes are bright. Her features are sharp. She is wearing some sort of knit overshirt, with mortal lettering spread across the front of it. ‘Bibliophiles Do It Better’. He does not know what clan that denotes, if it denotes any. Her hands smell like interesting foodstuffs, though she does not seem to be holding any at the moment. Beneath the overshirt, she seems to only be wearing a pair of brightly-patterned smallclothes.

 It is a strange outfit. But Dirthamen is not well-versed in mortal fashion trends.

 “Oh!” Selene says. Her fingers hesitate at the window; but her body blocks the way inside. “Shit.”

 Dirthamen supposes he must present himself.

 The window ledge is narrow, but he still manages a decent approximation of a bow.

 Selene sighs. But she also moves aside, in what seems to be a clear invitation. Dirthamen leaps through the window, and lands on a narrow structure situated beneath it. Only then does their mortal host close the window.

 “Mister,” she tuts. “What did I tell you about expanding your gang?”

 Des meows.

 “Yes, I know a storm is coming. I’m on to your little guilt trips,” she replies, as if interpreting his speech.

 Dirthamen blinks, and wonders if she can. To his ears, it sounds only as though Des is making nonsense ‘cat noises’. But perhaps there is a linguistic nuance he is missing?

 As he settles down onto the little windowside table, and regard Selene solemnly, the others seem to fall into a comfortable sort of routine. Fear jumps up to the top of a shelf of books in the room. Wedging themselves into the narrow space between the top shelf and the ceiling, until the most visible thing about them is the gleam of their eyes.

 Des and Affection exit the room - which appears to be some sort of bedroom - through the open doorway. Following the scent of food. Deceit, on the other hand, leaps up onto the bed at settles on the foot of it.

 Selene returns Dirthamen’s scrutiny. After a moment, she presents him her hand.

 Dirthamen stares at it for a moment, uncertain of protocols when he is in this shape. After a moment, he leans forward and delicately presses his nose to it. This seems to satisfy requirements, as Selene moves the same hand to tentatively touch his fur.

 She pats his back gently a few times. When he does not move away, she begins to send some searching fingers through his fur. It feels fairly pleasant; so he leans into the touch.

 “Well, you don’t seem to have fleas…” Selene murmurs.

 No indeed, he does not. He would have no reason to tolerate them. Selene gently scritches him, though, and it feels wonderful. How long has it been since he felt physical touch like this? From an entity that was not connected to him, like Fear and Deceit? He arches into it, and finds a low, rumbling sound begins to reverberate out from him.

 Selene snorts.

 “Buttering me up, hm?” she says. But she does not stop scritching, either. Not for several minutes anyway. When she finally does pull her hand away, she gives him a parting pat.

 “I guess I’ll put down another dish of food,” she decides, with a resigned sigh.

 Dirthamen flicks his tail, and finally concedes his own last, lingering reservation.

 Des’ plan does indeed seem to be a success.

[stuck-on-writing]

The Sleeping Dragon

In the darkened tavern you would have never seen her, she clad her lethal frame in an abyssal black leather, slim fingers covering in gloves with a ring on nearly every finger. She said not a single word only watched the people of the sea port town as they laughed and went about their business, her ever watchful eyes covered in shadows, leaving her lower face slightly visible. No smile nor smirk lay upon her lips, she remained unfazed, her attention never lasted long on anyone. A group of farmers in the middle of the tavern laughed and joked, almost (rude or loud and shrill). Next the pub owner whose daughter was hustling about giving food and drink to people, a small girl maybe late teens or early twenties, with deep brown hair that curled near the ends. Nearly at every turn she was grabbed or gropped, it was common everywhere for such to happen, it didn't mean she had to like it. It was when she went to walk back to the bar that she was pulled into someone's lap, the girl gave a shriek as she tried to get up but the man would not let her go.

“come on now honey, let's go have a bit of fun.”

the girl shook her head and once again tried to get up but he pulled her back down gripped her side hard.

“it wasn't a question.”

the girl looked terrified and tried to call for help but before she could he covered her mouth and stood pulling her toward the door.

she tried to fight back but he wouldn't let her go, as he neared the door and gunshot rang out, and a bullet pierced his shoulder. The man let out a scream as he dropped the girl to hold his now wounded shoulder. the tavern was silent as the people looked at the man and the blood that fell from his wound.

“now is that anyway to treat a beautiful young lady?”

the woman that hid in the shadows emerged, a gun in hand as she walked over to him, the barrel of which was still smoking. Her footsteps were light and made little to no sound as she moved. Thick coal black hair hung over her shoulders and swayed as she walked, the people around her moved aside as she took her place before the man; whose anger was clear as day.

“you fucking bitch! you shot me arm you whore!”

In a flash she drew another gun and shot him in his leg, causing him to drop to knees.

“and now i've taken you leg, shall  i go for the throat next?”

wide eyed the man shook his head and tried to scoot back away from the gun wielding woman.

“thats right no you don't, you want to live, just like everyone else, so i'll give you proposition. i let your filth live but you'll crew my ship.”

the woman knelt down in front of the bleeding man and lifted his chin so he could look her in the eyes, his pale blue eyes meeting her sea green eyes.

“savy?”

the man nodded quickly and again tried to move away, but she stopped him.

“i need my crew alive now sailor.”

the woman stood and nodded to a few men who took the man by the arms and walked him out of the tavern The woman followed behind them.

~~~~~

When the man woke the next morning he found himself on a ship, the smell of salt and water as every where. He sat up groggy and sea sick, with white bandages on his right arm and leg, a reminder of his deplorable actions the night before. That was when he remembered the woman, the one in the shadow he had not seen, she had taken him into her service, panicking the man bolted to his feet and tried to get to the door but he couldn't see one. he looked to his left and saw only the deep brown wood, it was same on his right, but there was a bucket there as well, most likely for his bathroom needs. when he looked up he saw the hatch to deck above, he could hear men shouting and the wind on the sails. Blue skies and hungry sea birds loomed over him, none of this made sense to him, who would she need him to crew this ship? by the sounds of it she had crew enough, what did she need him for? or was it because he tried to rape that girl? was this his punishment for being drunk and letting his cock rule his mind? was he now bound to the services of a pirate?

The man dropped to his knees with a thud that caused his injured leg great pain, he let out a hiss and skirted from his knees to his bottom to relieve his leg of the pain. His blond hair covered his eyes as he dropped his head, his body ached and his mind was clouded with regret and despair.

In the misted of his self wallowing the hatch on the ceiling opened and young boy peered in.

“oi the cap’n want to see yah, get off ‘er ass now sailor.”

the boy spoke like one of men and to his surprise he didn't seem to know any other way to talk. What kind of ship was he now in service to if they let a child run around the ship.

“come on, i ain't got all day and nor does thee cap’n”

the man slowly stood wincing as he did so, the boy shook his head and lowered a rope ladder down the hole to him. He took  hold of it, giving it pull before looking back up to the boy who seemed unfazed by it. slowly he placed his foot on one of the bars and heaved his pained body up to top deck. it was slow but he made it after some time, with the boys help he pulled himself out the hole.

upon standing he looked around and saw men and women bustling about, some cleaning the deck others climbing the beams to work on the sails, but everywhere he looked he saw people working. never in his wildest dreams did he think that would ever see so many people working in damn near perfect unison. he felt a small tug on his sleeve and looked down, the boy trying to get his attention.

“cap'n's on the top deck. whatever you do don't piss er off,”

the boy then pointed to some stairs that led straight up to top deck, he looked back down at the boy giving him a small smile before heading for the stairs. he tried to keep off his right leg as much as he could, it hurt enough as it was. each step he took made his leg scream and made him wince, it took a while but he finally made it to the top, where he was greeted by the hard face of the woman who had shot him. her coal black hair was pulled up and without he being covered in shadows he saw that she had a well built upper frame with an overpowered looking lower body, a woman used to hard work. she was tall, at first glance she looked like a rugged human, its when you got to her ears you would have done a double take, they were long and pointed, coming to a point at back of her skull. An elf, she was an elf, most of her kin don't wander the seas. they mostly stay with their own kin but some go live with humans, elves are beautiful and graceful, the embodiment of all the natural beauty in the world, in kind they saw humans as wonderful, wild and free creatures. elves and men often fall in love, but the child they make is considered even more exotic than their parents. This woman didn't look to be a half elf but it was normally difficult to tell at first glance.

The man stepped forward and approached the captain, his leg felt like it was on fire, he reached down to see what was wrong but before he could look the elf spoke.

“i see you're awake, Jay took good care of those wounds dont worry.”

the captain nodded over to one of the men that was standing to her right and he came and took the wheel from her. She smiled at him before turning to face him, she looked very elvish straight on, slanted cat like eyes, a narrow pointed nose with a matching chin and high cheekbones, but she also had human features, her nose wasn't as fine pointed as most elves he had seen, her chin was slightly rounded as well.

“i hope you remember why you're here?”

[emalynde]

D&D Soap Opera Synopsis 9/10 prequel ft. Arkhein & the DM

((As I’m sure you guys have figured out, my elf boyfriend NPCs are written by our wonderful DM, who also happens to be my husband, Merlon.  This RP gem includes the amazing writing of my partner-in-crime https://arkhein.tumblr.com/, who plays Adryssa.  Check back here if you need help sorting out the characters: http://emalynde.tumblr.com/post/152820810771/dd-soap-opera-synopses AND http://emalynde.tumblr.com/post/156271641901/new-elf-boyfriend-campaign-character-the-oc-of.  Emalynde is disguised as Ilayne, since she’s flit off to Nexus without Thalandril knowing to stir up trouble.)) The cantina of the guild hall was teeming with jubilation and excitement as entire teams of adventurers had returned from their jobs. Creatures of all colors, sizes, and species roamed about the room, enjoying the comradery that they had missed while away. Some had taken up instruments and were playing battle-songs of their exploits. Songs of romance, danger and treasure also rang throughout the hall as skilled musicians put tall tales to the test.

Savid had insisted that he and Ilayne spend breakfast at the cantina--after having spent yesterday practically bed-bound--watching people and things go by. The silver-haired elf had never seen the vast majority of these creatures before, and so was engrossed in watching and learning about them, a penchant the dusk elf was well-aware of.  They had procured a decently large, round table early on in the festivities so that the remainder of their group could accumulate at the table as each awoke. Kasimir, Chelyse, Adryssa, Dak, and Kyr were all eventually shuffled into the seating around the table by the enormous elf as they slowly emerged from their slumber.  Even the angel Gabriel decided to grace them with his presence. Upon spending hours eating and drinking--as Savid does, he leaned in to talk to the group in a semi-hushed, semi-yelling tone of voice that he so loved to use when talking about secret plans.

"Savid remembers that we have plans this evening for the Ball we have decided to infiltrate, yes?" He looks around at the table, his compatriots half full with food as he interrupted what was until then a silent period of feasting. "Savid feels....that taking a partner would be the best course of action, as it would add to the truth of who we are attempting to be!" The towering elf stood up and pushed his chair backwards, slamming it accidently against the hind legs of a large, mantis-looking creature that returned the shove with a clattering of its mandibles. Savid was not sure if it was angry or attempting a mating call, so--with a shrug--he continued, proceeding to bend onto one knee in front of the lovely Ilayne. "Savid would like to know if he could grace you with his presence at a Ball as your partner for the evening." He hit her with his full, beaming grin, one that would be cheesy on anyone else, but he truly thought it was as effective as the rest of him.

The notion of a ball causes the elf with hair like starlight to lift a single, intrigued eyebrow.  She was quite versed in such affairs within the bounds of Evermeet, but the kind of party -this- town might throw… a smirk curls the corners of her lips at the very thought.  Not familiar with the group’s plans for the evening (as far as the cult is concerned), Emalynde/Ilayne bit at her bottom lip in anticipation.  Not only would this be a perfect opportunity to people-watch, but it would also be her last evening here in Nexus and a suitable send-off.  Savid was a charming companion, if a bit… dull intellectually.  He could not play the Game with her, but such a thing was not a requirement for dalliances of this sort.  Even so, Jhanys would be positively beside herself with jealousy, a thought that brings a broader span to the smirk that hovered atop the freckled elf’s mouth. The enchantress homes back into the conversation as Savid kneels before her.  Being unfamiliar with the rather human gesture, her head cants to the side in curiosity, spilling several curls the color of mithril over one shoulder.  Even on one knee, the hulking elf was taller than her seated figure, forcing Emalynde/Ilayne to look up to flash both a winsome and flattered smile at Savid as she understood his intention.  “I would be honored,” she responds in silken tones that constantly skirted being coy.  There was an almost constant playfulness about her person that perhaps gave the impression that the elf did not take many things seriously, although even Kasimir could not discount her intelligent gaze.  She had even managed to impress him with her knowledge of the Astral Plane upon their first meeting.  Shame the same could not be said of their private encounter. Chelyse turns to Kasimir and a look of affirmation passes between the pair.  It did not need to be spoken that the golden elf and her darker consort would be attending the celebration in each other’s immediate company.  They spent the vast majority of their time in such a manner as it was, even selecting an apartment within the guild hall together--sleeping/trancing and living in the same space.  It was a sudden and abrupt shift in their relationship--as the group was well-aware thanks to Savid, but the quiet couple seemed very much enamored with one another.  

The young paladin was thankful that Kasimir did not put on a show about the ordeal as Savid did, but the latter did have a penchant for the dramatic.  And Savid seemed to be enjoying himself with the girl from Evermeet.  Blushing slightly, the fey knight feels ashamed at how well-received and likable the priestess of Hanali was in comparison to herself.  Chelyse couldn’t be charming if she tried--at least not like that.  Ilayne’s easy, melodic laughter floats through the air at one of Savid’s jokes and Chelyse squeezes Kasimir’s hand--content, at least, in his companionship (not even knowing that he’d saved her from a rather petty gesture by the same elf the golden-haired girl was being slightly envious of). “Who will you take, then?”  The gentle paladin inquires of her younger sister, turning to view the smaller, strikingly similar elf better across the table.  Her intonations were kindly and soft, genuinely interested in making sure Adryssa had a companion for the evening if she so desired one.  But the elven girl was also too obtuse to know whom the diviner fancied or was fond of.  It was a gesture of care--for Chelyse, at least, who was admittedly trying to be sisterly to her sibling.  Although that intention manifest in a myriad of ways--not all of which were necessarily welcome by (or helpful to) the youngest Dawnbloom.

Adryssa absent-mindedly sucked down her orange juice, using her straw like a pro and twirling it around with her tongue.  Her mind was swirling with inventory reports, warehouse floor plans, artisan guild agreements, and business ledgers.  So much had happened in the last few days.  She was a legitimate business owner now.  The city of Nexus considered her an actual adult.  Soon, people would be relying on her for their livelihood.  It was exciting and scary.

But what kept on pulling her out of her happiness zone was the incessant giggling of that bubble-brained little drow slut who was flirting with Savid across the table.  Adryssa wasn't sure who the hell she was, or why she was at the table, but it was getting tiresome.  Chelyse seemed to take in dark elves like some crazy cat lady. Adryssa had almost completely purged Savid from her heart - and now this.

Perhaps she was being unfair.  The drow girl didn't seem to be all that stupid.  And perhaps she hadn't even giggled *once*.  But dammit, it seemed like everyone had somebody - except Adryssa.  She took a breath and forced her gaze away from Savid.  No, she had her business.  She was going to throw herself into her work and forget about everything and everyone else.  But suddenly Chelyse asked her about the ball.

"Take?  Who . . ?  The ball!" a look of panic spread across Adryssa's face.  "That's tonight?  I . .  I don't have anyone to take!  I don't even have anything to wear!"  Adryssa suddenly felt like throwing up orange juice all over the table, her eyes wide, staring at Chelyse.  Desperate, unable to form words, she mouthed 'Help me." Chelyse’s eyes widened in a reflection of the diviner’s panicked expression, feeling responsible for the shift in emotion and caring that Adryssa was distressed.  In an effort to calm her sister, the fey knight spoke in gentle, reassuring tones--not even slightly condescending or ingenuine, “Do not fret.  I am sure Kyr, Gabriel, or Dak would be happy to accompany you.”  The smile that spanned the golden-haired elf’s lips was kindly, attempting to both comfort her younger sibling as well as help solve her dilemma. “Or, perhaps someone you’ve an eye on?”  Emalynde/Ilayne smirks somewhat mischievously, clearly insinuating that Adryssa should choose the person for whom she had flirtatious feelings.  While the remaining party members were just fine and dandy, a gnome, a human, or an angel might not be the little elf’s partner of choice.  Not to mention Emalynde/Ilayne took every opportunity to subtly and expertly undermine Chelyse.  The silvery elf tosses a wink at Adryssa, offering her a wide grin of reassurance--essentially trying to provide alternative (and likely more desirable) options.  As well as to ease the smallest elf at the table’s worries.   “Is there someone you fancy?”  Her voice was lilting and melodic, resting her chin atop the platform created by the interlocked fingers of her hands.  “Or someone you enjoy spending your evenings with?”  Emalynde/Ilayne intentionally left her phrasing ambiguous so as to allow the listener to choose whether she was speaking of a dear friend or a lover.  The smirk against her lips was coy and bemused, adding, “And fear not.  We can always venture out to attain proper wardrobe for such an event.  Savid tells me that you design attire.  I assume, then, that I can depend on your tastes to be exquisite.”  Glancing over to the giant dusk elf for effect, the enchantress’ silvered eyes slide back to Adryssa, “Seeing as what handiwork I have been privy to is dashing.”  

Adryssa watched Chelyse's lips as her sister spoke.  Once again, the paladin didn't seem to get the urgency or importance of Adryssa's mind-bogglingly horrible ordeal.  This was the first chance for Adryssa to establish her brand - to show off her handiwork to an audience who would actually understand - and she was flubbing it horribly.  "I . .  yes . . . maybe . . ." she stumbled over her words.

Then the strange drow girl began to talk to her, but Adryssa realized she wasn't a drow at all.  She hadn't been paying attention, instead having just looked at the back of the elf's head and assumed.  And there was something else about her that she couldn't put her finger on.  Something she wasn't quite used to.  The girl was being nice to her.  She was complimenting Adryssa and not treating her like she was an idiot or insane.

"Exquisite? "  Adryssa said as a smile blossomed across her face, her whole body turning away from Chelyse towards the moon elf.  "I do design attire.  I do, I do.  I just opened a boutique and set up my atelier.  I'm in business!  Dawnbloom Couture.  I intend on having princesses and queens as my clientele one day!  I've been really busy, and I'm sorry, because I kind of get the feeling that I should know who you are.  Did we get introduced within the last few days, because my mind has been so busy with the business, I think I am becoming forgetful.  You even kind of look familiar.  Maybe I saw you at the Fairy Market in downtown Leuthilspar on Evermeet, buying a hazelnut butter pie for lunch from a little old lady with a green bonnet on a Thursday?  I'm Adryssa Ellifayne Dawnbloom, by the way.  Nice to meet you.  You are so pretty."

"I . . ." Adryssa looked down at her empty orange juice glass.  "I don't really have anyone.  There is someone I'm interested in, but she's far too important and busy to be involved with someone like me.  She's like, a superstar."

Emalynde/Ilayne smiled slightly as Adryssa turned her attention away from the young paladin, a semblance of triumph stirring in her chest.  Kasimir had forbade any outright harm come to his insipid companion, but he had made no mention of the enchantress utilizing other, more subtle means to exact her ends.  And it was unlikely anyone at the table was well-versed in the intricacies of vernacular and discourse enough to pick-up on the freckled elf’s small, deliberate blows to the fey knight’s esteem.   Growing up in a convent full of women, Emalynde/Ilayne was far too skilled at the covert art of belittling, undermining, and discounting others--all veiled in friendly jest or other such antics.  She had rarely made use of the skillset--it wasn’t really within her nature, but the doe-eyed elf grated on the courtesan like she’d never experienced before.  The blonde had not only taken Thalandril away from her for a time (not that Ema had even been present to feel that effect), but--more importantly--she had hurt him. Chelyse had begun to part her lips in response to Adryssa, but Emalynde/Ilayne cuts her off--the action likely seemingly innocent and unintentional, given that they knew not who the elf with hair like starlight really was.  Besides Kasimir, that is.  Even the courtier was unaware that the dusk elf wizard knew--and had altered her memories to preserve that advantage.  “Worry not,” she smiles enchantingly, “I have been in Nexus only three days now and have left my lodgings seldomly.”  The silvery elf politely declines to elaborate.    

At being complimented, Emalynde/Ilayne favors Adryssa with a winsome, gracious smile, nodding her head in thanks--a movement that causes the smaller curls about her face to bob slightly.  “It is my pleasure... Adryssa, is it not?”  It wasn’t much of a question, but simply elegantly posed as one in keeping with conversational paradigm.  As the smaller of the golden elves deflates, the mithril-haired elf flashes a mischievous grin, “Now, that has yet to be determined.  Come, the only way we shall find out is to ask.”  ((thaaaaat’s a 30 persuasion ;D))   Without waiting for a response, Emalynde/Ilayne rises in a fluid, graceful motion, smoothing her dress against her thighs and hips to encourage the gown to hang correctly upon her slender frame.  She was much more shapely than Chelyse--soft and curvaceous in all the place the gentle paladin was muscled and flat.  It didn’t help that the moon elf was astoundingly lovely ((Appearance 21)), prettier even than the Aasimar.  Casting a glance at the diviner over her shoulder, Emalynde/Ilayne’s lips bloom into that coy half-smirk of hers, beckoning Adryssa along for what the enchantress perceived as an adventure, “Shall we?”     

Adryssa's gaze slowly moved from the orange juice glass to the moon elf.  She didn't notice her sister begin to talk.  She didn't notice much of anything else.  This woman was speaking kindly to her, and it was something Adryssa craved.

"Three days in Nexus and you haven't been outside your room?" Adryssa's eye widened to the point where they crossed.  "But here is so much to see here.  So many wonderful sights.  The architecture is just amazing and there is a floating forest and there are so many different types of sentient creatures it's like a smorgasbord of flesh!"  She said, not realizing that the statement could be taken a myriad of ways.

"Oh, and yes, I'm Adryssa.  It was Clarissa.  But that's my human name.  Adryssa is my elf name and since I'm an elf, that's my name now," she nodded repeatedly with a smile.  The smile grew wider when the moon elf mentioned leaving.

"Oh yes, let's go!  I should show you around along the way.  I have a conveyance.  It's a little cherry red Mephit 9000 XTC that goes faster than a gold dragon and banks better than a broom.  The fire elemental at the core - I call her Petunia - is a speed-a-holic.  Petunia literally SCREAMS around corners.  The bucket seats, you just melt into them.  They caress your whole body.  And ermahgerd, the rumble.  You can feel it deep down inside your . . . insides.   I haven't taken anybody up in her yet.  You could be the very first!"

Adryssa slipped functional, yet classy green goggles from her bag and arranged them around her eyes with a light snap.  Then she followed along with the moon elf, completely ignoring everyone else at the table, including her sister.  "By the way, I think I missed your name again.  What was it?"

Emalynde/Ilayne clarifies, “Actually, I have been outside the guild hall--with Savid on the evening of my first day within Nexus, actually.”  The silvery-tressed elf turns a fond smile toward the half-dressed barbarian, who was seated next to her once more.  “We ventured to the circus so that I might marvel at all the varying races that comprise the population here.  It really is rather fascinating that so many sorts of creatures can call this place home.”  Almost absent-mindedly, the enchantress rests a palm against Savid’s forearm, a gesture of comfort and camaraderie--since she really didn’t know anyone else here.  The fact she only spoke Elvish compounded that.  “But I should be happy for a larger tour.  This must be one of the flying wagons--yes?” Starting to move from the table after giving the remainder a nod of farewell, the freckled elf lifts a silvered brow at Adryssa’s inquiry before her expression shifts into a wide smile, “Ilayne.  I am a priestess of Hanali back within Leuthilspar.”  

Savid was caught off guard as the two young elves decided to move off.  He had been following their conversation, but had enraptured himself in thoughts of what he was to wear at the ball.  Realizing that the ladies were leaving, without him, he stood up and moved off after them.  “Savid thinks it best if he came along.  Two lovely ladies that you are, you would be lost without the guidance of Savid.”  He starts to move up between the elven women, if allowed, and continues in a deep, knowing voice.  “Savid is aware of all of the best shops, owners, and parts of town for this.  Adryssa, you spend so much time working that Savid is not sure that you have seen some of the shops!”   He puts an arm across both girls, one each if allowed, and moves them off in the same direction.  “Plus, Savid will not be outdone.  Savid thinks that matching outfits are in order, as you will match Savid.”  His chisled features town to rather pointedly looks towards Ema/Ilayne, his expression displaying just how serious of an issue it was for the dusk elf; he truly appears to think that he needs to be the highlight of the duo.  “Savid also thinks Adryssa has excellent taste, and could help pick out something spectacular for all of us.”  His grin goes corner to corner as he enjoys the idea of a shopping spree with the girls.

Chelyse watches the trio move away, the silver-haired elf slipping happily beneath Savid’s arm and threading her own about his broad torso.  Her expression was slightly troubled, as if the fey knight felt unsure of herself.  The sight made her miss Aliera, the only real friend she had, and a subtle pang of remorse manifest that she could not relate to Adryssa so.  Chelyse mourned the fact the pair was just so different that it compounded their familial relationship.  Made it hard to communicate and share each other’s company. She turned an almost dejected visage to Kasimir, “Am I difficult to get along with?” she ventures in small, soft tones.  It was quiet enough to not attract the attention of those seated at their table.  “I… do not understand why the many dresses Adryssa possesses are not suitable.  Or… why she cannot simply attend the ball with…”  Blonde tresses shift forward as Chelyse looks at the table, her words trailing away.  Perhaps it was exactly this lack of understanding that formed a rift between the youngest Dawnbloom siblings and made Chelyse not nearly as well-liked or enthralling as Ilayne.  A sigh parts Chelyse’s lips.  She usually didn’t care about such things; it was odd that she gave regard to her appearance and what others thought of her at all.

"The circus?" the be-goggled elf girl exclaimed.  "How wonderful!  Wasn't it just so exciting?  So many different types of people.  Not like back home at all, yanno, where if you have a slightly different eyebrow shape they consider you a different species.  Oh, Savid may not have told you, but he's one of the best circus performers in the whole city."  Adryssa nodded vigorously and winked at the towering dusk elf in a manner that she thought was secret, though looked like more like a four-year old's pantomime wink using the entire head, neck, and shoulders.

Adryssa led the two down several tall corridors until they reached an external foyer connected to a parking structure loaded with flying vehicles.  She handed an invisible entity a red piece of paper, and the paper went aloft towards the parking areas.  "Flying wagons!  Yes.  That's what I called them too.  Here they call them SkyCoaches, which is kind of a boring name."

As they waited for the valet, Adryssa listened to the girl and learned her name and profession.  "It's so good to meet you, Ilayne.  And a priestess of Hanali, really?  My friends Amkissra and Ghilanna from the Bonnalurie Tree were priestesses of Hanali as well!  They said that the were 14th level Guzzlers.  I'm not sure how the bureaucracy works in the church, but that always sounded pretty important.  Fourteen whole levels.  Oh, look!  There is Petunia coming now!”

Adryssa pointed up at the bright red egg that was floating down towards them.  When the convertible hot rod landed, she handed the invisible valet a coin and hopped into the long couch making up the front seat.  "Ilayne, Savid, this is Petunia.  Petunia this is Ilayne and Savid.  Some say that the elementals that power these things are slaves.  But not Petunia," Adryssa caressed the quilted dashboard.  "Petunia LOVES being a flying wagon.  And she LOVES going fast.  And she LOVES to hear songs - the ruder and the more sexually explicit the better.  I know that sounds weird, but she really, really does. It makes her purr sooo loud.  So can you two help me sing to her?"

The enchantress happily sashayed beside Savid as the group of them headed toward this flying wagon of Adryssa’s.  Everything was so unique and in contrast to the well-organized, uniform--although still quite beautiful--Leuthilspar.  Silvered eyes gaze with open awe and curiosity, absorbing every bit of this adventure, her first foray outside of Evermeet. At the notion of Savid being a circus performer, Emalynde/Ilayne turns with admiring intrigue to her companion, but she was surprised to see a pout forming on his chiseled features.  Somewhat puzzled, the courtesan watches Adryssa wink at the giant of an elf, who just seemed to pout more. The discussion became even more interesting as the diviner mentioned the only two wood or wild elves within the priestesses of Hanali.  They were not at the temple much--preferring the outskirts of Leuthilspar, but she knew both.  It took a hand raised to conceal her lips to staunch the giggle that threatened to escape.  There was no such thing as levels within the ranks of Hanali’s priestesses, other than perhaps the standings of some courtesans who made a living from the profession rather than simply serving at the temple--of which Emalynde/Ilayne was one.  The silvery elf declined to tell the girl that the priestesses had been playing with her, though. The timing of the crimson contraption’s arrival was perfect--rescuing Emalynde/Ilayne from any moral obligation toward the truth.  Wonder sparkled in her eyes at the vehicle, cautiously climbing aboard and slipping onto the middle section of the long cushion suspended across the flying wagon’s width, Savid following along behind her.  The enchantress laughs outright, the sound melodic and bemused, at the notion that the car required her to sing.  Never one to not flaunt her own talents, the silvery-tressed elf shook her curls out behind her, straightening to better utilize her diaphragm as Savid lazily rested his arm along the back of their seat behind her.  The elf with hair like starlight begins a mournful melody, hauntingly beautiful, about seeking solace in the arms of numerous lovers after the loss of a true love.  It was explicit, in a way, but mostly heart-wrenching, the sort of ballad that reached into the soul and made one weep.  ((She’s actually trained in singing, so she rolled a 21))

The diviner listened in amazement at Ilayne's song, mouthing the words quietly, trying to commit them to memory.  She stroked the dashboard to the rhythm, and the light rumbling sound grew louder and louder down in the depths of the vehicle.  By the time Ilayne's song was over, Petunia sounded like a two ton metallic cat with an elephant full of cat-nip.  "By Sehanine, Ilayne, listen to that purr!  You've got her going louder than I've ever heard.  And smoother!  That raspy, grating sound in the back of her ventricular manifold is even gone.  Hot damn, she's gonna go faster than EVAR today!"

Adryssa began flipping switches all along the dashboard, turning knobs, priming pumps, and poking buttons.  "Guys, the couch is going to grab you in the privates, but that's okay.  It's how Petunia will keep you from flying out of the vehicle."  A high whine started in the huge, red, steaming kettle behind them.  "Come on Petunia.  Keep it up.  That's a good girl," Adryssa strapped a leather cap to her head, matching the goggles.  "At some point during the trip you may feel dizzy, nauseous, or like you are about to die.  That's normal," she began to yell over the noise.  "See all of these instruments on the dash?  Most of them emit magic to keep us alive.  But even if something goes wrong, Petunia explodes, and I burn to death, my corpse is going to float gently downward for a while, so grab on to one of my arms or legs and ride me until someone can rescue you.  Okay?"

A big red flashing button, the kind that looks like a button you should never press, was mashed under Adryssa's thumb.  Petunia rocketed forward, leaving a trail of fire blazing through the parking structure.  "Yeehaw!" the elf cheered as Ilayne and Savid were slammed backwards by the force of acceleration.  They sunk into the fabric of the couch - which suddenly felt like it was made of salt-water taffy - and were held immobile.  Petunia raced through the air, twirling around other vehicles like they were standing still, and blasted up the sides of building in a mad dash, leaving nothing in their wake except people shaking their fists angrily and cursing them for being a public nuisance.

Adryssa climbed higher and higher, skipping off of the sides of buildings until Petunia hung in the sky, motionless, far above even the tallest tower.  It was silent up here.  Adryssa pulled off her leather cap and her golden hair fluttered in the light breeze.  She looked downward and took in the entire city - the whole mass of color and light and little bitty moving things - all in one view.  She then turned to her passengers - panting slightly, her eyes wide, her breath heavy, her cheeks flushed, and a huge smile on her face.  "Petunia LOVES you, Ilayne.  She's showing off for you!"

Emalynde/Ilayne lets the last note of her melody hang in the air, a final farewell to the tale and the emotions that were engendered as a result.  The courtesan was forced to take a steadying breath.  That particular ballad always hit her more deeply than any of the other songs within her repertoire; it was the enchantress’ favorite.  A confident, contented smile made its way to her freckled visage shortly, somewhat emotionally spent but pleased with her performance.  The vehicle was indeed making noise, and--to an elf unfamiliar with machinery--seemed rather alive.  Trepidatious but optimistic, the silvery elf pressed herself against Savid’s side, unconsciously seeking some sort of protection with that gesture as the noise and shuddering grew. The confidence begins to ebb away slightly, the courtier not looking concerned, exactly, but hesitant--all while still keeping the semblance of a smile upon her lips.  She casts a glance at Savid, searching for whether he was equally skeptical, but the dusk elf leans over with a roguish grin upon his face, spouting off with the intent of being reassuring, “Savid sees that you are uncertain.  Do not be.  Savid shook you much harder the previous evening.  And he makes much more noise.” ((DM’s words, not mine T_T))  Emalynde/Ilayne barks a loud laugh, both tickled and somewhat surprised at the comment.  With a few delicate fingers, she grabs his jaw, pulling the well-muscled elf’s features down to kiss him firmly before releasing her hold--bolstered as to the safety of their travel.  ((rolled a 20 for her reaction XD)) Savid’s encouragement could not have come at a better time, allowing Emalynde/Ilayne to mostly shrug off Adryssa’s various warnings.  The silver-haired elf was excited, one hand clinging to Savid just in case, but no longer worried about their venture’s degree of danger.  As the SkyCoach rockets forward, the force squashes the enchantress into the embrace of the seat cushions, white knuckles holding Savid’s giant mitt of a hand as she yelled exuberantly.  It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, the wind rushing through her hair and buffeting her elongated ears.  A laugh would punctuate their trajectory every so often, delight and amazement implicit in the sound. As the trio banked and hovered a great distance above Nexus, Emalynde/Ilayne realized that the city was just a floating mote.  In her exhilaration, the courtesan attempts to pry herself from the seat, crawling over Savid’s lap to look over the edge--if allowed.  Savid would wrap an arm about the enchantress’ waist easily, securing her into the vehicle should her curiosity get the better of her.  Bent over on her knees atop the dusk elf’s thighs, Emalynde/Ilayne casts a glance over her shoulder at Adryssa, beaming at the fact the fire elemental had taken a liking to her person.  Reaching out with a hand, the priestess pats the quilted dash approvingly, as she had seen the diviner do prior.           

The nervousness that had been welled up inside of Adryssa's belly, hidden but constant, suddenly lifted and she laughed.  Ilayne and Savid had actually liked the mad and hectic ride.  It dawned on Adryssa that Chelyse would have freaked out and started screaming, accusing her of being irresponsible, childish, and insane.  But not them.  She had watched them kiss and did not felt jealous.  She watched Ilayne climb all over Savid with her butt in the air and did not feel ill at ease at all.  In fact, the sight was quite welcome.

"I've come up here quite often since I realized that this was a place," Adryssa started, her voice calm and thoughtful.  "No one is ever up here.  Maybe an occasional bird.  Or flying thing.  Whatever those metallic bees with eight heads are.  But no people really.  It's peaceful and quiet and you can just relax.  It's so high - we might be at least a mile up.  I figured that maybe, if I ever took anyone else up here, that it would be a special event, so I needed a special name.  So I decided that everyone who came up here was going to be a member of the a this very special club.  So welcome to the Mile High Club.  It's a secret, so don't tell anyone."

After a few minutes, Adryssa began to turn knobs and flip switches, causing the hot rod to descend.  "Thank you so much for coming here with me.  I heard what ya'll said about buying some clothes . . . but I can't.  I can't wear anyone else's clothing.  It would betray my brand.  So I need to make my own clothes for tonight.  And I'd be honored if I could make you clothes for the ball too.  Anything you'd like.  Anything you can describe.  It can have images on it - animated images.  Flames.  Clouds.  Woodland scenes with illusory pixies and fairies flying around you.  It could even be see-through at will.  I'm pretty good.  And the two of you would be helping me tremendously be wearing them, since you both are so very pretty.  Could you please help me out?  You can keep the clothes forever!"

Petunia drifted calmly, slowly down - back into the city with it's movement and frenetic energy.  The buildings Adryssa steered them towards were of odd shapes - experimental - avant-garde - artistic.  "The girl I like - Temerity - lives right over there at that shop.  I didn't really forget to ask her.  I just don't think she'd say yes.  She's so busy.  I'm scared that she'll say no.  I just don't know what to do about that, since I'd normally barge over and ask.  But I'm so nervous.  My head has been changing a lot recently.  Ilayne - what should I do?  How can I learn to be so calm and self-assured just like you are?"  The crimson conveyance sat down a block away from the shop.  Adryssa was visibly shaking and she licked her lips nervously, looking at Ilyane with imploring eyes.

As Adryssa begins to speak, Emalynde/Ilayne pulls herself away from her sight-seeing, marveling at the scene below one last time before sliding back into her seat.  Savid left his arm about her waist, giving her a playfully wary look--as if she might bound over him once more.  The enchantress flashes him a reassuring grin, silently attempting to assuage any discomfort, and the enormous elf seemed to relax more.  Silvered eyes watch the smaller, golden elf, nodding appropriately to her words.  “A secret, then,” she affirms, a curt nod solidifying her commitment to confidentiality.   When the hot rod is activated once more, the enchantress nestles back into the seat’s padding, waiting for it to take hold of her, as she entwined her fingers with Savid’s again--not a romantic gesture, but more of a safety assurance.  Silvery brows loft in interest at the notion of having a custom-made gown.  She so very much loved to stand out in a crowd, so a modeling gig was right up Emalynde/Ilayne’s alley.  Biting at her bottom lip, she grinned widely, clearly thrilled at the prospect.  It’s a shame that she would be leaving Nexus in the morning and couldn’t create clientele here.  This would have been the perfect opportunity.  Although, admittedly, she wasn’t quite keen on becoming intimate with all these varying sorts of creatures.    

“Of course!”  The freckled elf would have hugged Adryssa, agreeing to her offer, but Petunia seemed about to take off.  It would probably be wisest to stay in her seat.  The courtesan’s wariness was unjustified, though, given that the car drifted slowly back to the city streets, their trajectory easy and gentle.  Upon arriving at a very creative-looking district, the architecture itself seeming a work of art, Emalynde/Ilayne turns to regard Adryssa as the vehicle slows.  Sympathy veils her feminine features, feeling for the younger elf.  Who hadn’t been in her shoes at one point or another?  Extending a gentle hand, the enchantress attempts to place it against the diviner’s shoulder, “Just be yourself,” she smiles encouragingly.  “Confidence and self-assurance are simply byproducts of practice, dear.”  Her word were calm and sweet; it was obvious that her patience was vast, or perhaps she worked with children.  Growing up in an orphanage and part of a sect comprised mainly of women, it was likely both.  “Worry not; I am sure she would be delighted to join you.”  ((Persuasion 25))  “Would you rather us wait here or accompany you?” Temerity’s shop was small but fierce, decorated tastefully--yet eccentrically--in dark, brooding colors, giving the establishment a mysterious quality.  There was a single, large window in the front of the store, edged with blood red, velvet curtains on the inside.  Each hanging panel of velvet was pulled back and secured to the outer perimeter of the window with a black ribbon.  A few paintings were on display, but weren’t exactly visible just yet.  An ‘Open’ sign hung on the quaint door, which was directly to the right of the display window.  The lighting inside was dim, almost eerie, but slight movement was perceptible within.  

The golden-haired sun elf beamed at Ilayne.  "Thank you for offering to be one of my experiments, and your advice!  Wow.  You are so helpful and wonderful.  I keep thanking you, but it doesn't seem to be enough," Adryssa sighed, then cocked her head.  "You know, Amkissra and Ghilanna from the Bonnalurie Tree taught me how to formally thank a priestesses of Hanali.  We actually spent a lot of time on practice.  Amkissra said I was really good at Thanksgiving because I can grow my tongue out to at least 14 inches, while Ghilanna said that the best features were that it was prehensile and I could make it forked at the end.  I would be happy to formally thank you if you want, anytime.  Just let me know," she said with the respect and piety of a parishioner discussing communion wafers with a Catholic priest.

Adryssa's gaze then moved from Ilayne to Temerity's shop. She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking briefly.  "Yes, I think I'll take you up on your offer.  You can come on up and meet Temerity, and maybe I can get a bit distracted and less nervous."  The elf flipped several switches on the vehicle and stroked the quilted dashboard gently.  Then with a deep breath, she exited and began to walk towards the shop.  She looked back to make sure the others were coming too.

A bell rang on the quaint door as Adryssa opened it, and she peered inside the dark and eccentric shop.  "Temerity?  Helloooooo?  It's me!  Adryssa.  That elf you know."  She suddenly remembered that she was still wearing the emerald goggles and yanked them off her face in a flurry of activity, then nervously pretended there hadn't been anything on her face at all.  An errant strand of hair dangled across her eye, nose and mouth, which she desperately blew at to get rid of, but the stubborn thing resisted.  Adryssa screamed internally.

Emalynde/Ilayne smiled kindly at the elven girl, wondering inwardly if anyone had taken the time to advise Adryssa previously.  Or taken the time to really talk to her.  Given the diviner’s reaction--and the enchantress’ experiences with children, either Adryssa had a great need for attention, or she did not get nearly enough positive reinforcement.   But the silvery elf’s brows loft in surprise and she blinks, lips parting in keeping with her reaction, at the notion that Amkissra and Ghilanna treated the Dawnbloom girl that way.  Of course, there was no such thing as this Thanksgiving or any formal method of giving thanks as a priestess of Hanali.  Masquerading thusly was a slight to the doctrine and their beliefs--as well as the sanctity of their rites.  It was almost making a mockery of them.  She didn’t know the wood and wild elven girls well, but the matron would have to hear of this.  Emalynde/Ilayne herself was concerned, not only for any additional untruths these two were telling, but if they had taken advantage of the sun elf, who looked to be not over 75.  A child. ((Consulted DM for all of that)) The courtesan decided not to mention the severity of the issue--not yet at least.  It would do Adryssa no good to be told these girls were lying to her.  In fact, it would probably make her feel betrayed or foolish--neither feeling would be beneficial toward the trio’s current ends.  Maybe later.  Emalynde/Ilayne took only a moment to return to her light-hearted demeanor, well-practised at veiling her own sentiments, but still worried for the girl’s well-being.  She might have a talk with the pair herself, although Matron Linarralh commanded much more respect than the courtier herself did.  It wouldn’t surprise her if the matron removed the duo from the order entirely, given that they were dealing in minors and falsehoods about the religion. Although offering a warm smile to the smaller elf, Emalynde/Ilayne just nodded her head gratefully, choosing not to comment on the offer of thanks.  Savid exited the vehicle first, helping her from the confines of the car.  It was difficult to not be somewhat motherly toward the poor girl, but the freckled elf did not wish to interfere with the purpose of their outing.  So instead, she rubbed Savid’s back soothingly, although the gesture had been meant for Adryssa.  The older elves followed along silently, watching and waiting.