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Ceald Amothien	By : wanderingaddict Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 7242 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Keep
in mind that this is from Ceald’s perspective.
Sometimes he thinks things he would never say, sometimes he
misinterprets others’ actions and sometimes he takes things out
of perspective. I mean, he woke up cradled in Valen’s lap and
didn’t think that, you know, maybe the demon swings his way
too, since, generally, most guys don’t hold other guys like
that.

Reviewers: I love you,
hearing your thanks got me started on revamping this chapter too (and
kept me from dinking around with other things). So in the interest of
catering to you and hopefully garnering more reviews, this section is
for you guys. Asha
Crone:
soon, soon! Gracious:
haha, yeah, I know, but because I think demons are sexy Valen’s
reversed and actually 3/4s demon, only part human. He’s also a
little tougher about it, for brevity’s sake, and you’re
right; Ceald is a bit prejudice (although that comes up later).
Fawnheart:
you already know you’re amazing, so you don’t get
anything here. YukoKiba: glad
you liked, I hope you enjoy the rest! Ermine
White: I truly thank you for
everything you said, it helps me know my strengths (and therefore
what I may need to work on) as well as makes me grin to know that
someone else likes a boy and his… dragon, (heh) as much as I
do. Ray
and Dust Bunny,
your words of encouragement mean more than you know! Arimikoe;
thanks for telling me that, I’ve found that the longer I keep
it around the more it grows on me. Nex:
Working as hard as I can! Mistah
Eleganza: Thanks for validating me.
I always suffer from this crushing doubt that people will just yell
at me and say I suck, so I’m glad that ya’ll love this
too! EDIT/UPDATE:
thanks, again, Mistah Eleganza, for saving the ending of this
chapter! I went through and added some thousand words, trying to
flesh it out. I agree totally, it needed work, I was just too close
to see why! Thank you! Tell me if this is any better or if I need to
do it again.

+------------+

“Ceald,”
a sweet, soft voice sang. “Ceald, little sleepyhead, it’s
time to get up.” I could almost taste the sugar in it.

I
cracked open one baleful eye and glared at the dark, smiling face
lying beside mine. The drow girl grinned, unperturbed by my paltry
attempt to scare her away. “Ceald...” she started to coo
again.

“Ngrrfm!”
I snarled, twisting over and burying my face in the pillows. Nathyrra
only laughed, clamboring over me, despite my grunted protests, to
pull the pillows out from around my head.

“I’m
not going to let you alone,” she said, snickering, “You
may as well just give in and wake up.” I sighed, defeated, but
not willing to concede just yet. I rested a moment longer, reveling
in the feel of the cool sides of pillows against my skin. Incessant
prodding forced me to roll over acknowledge her though, so I gave in
just to get it over with.

Grimacing
at the too-bright light of flaring glow shards, I arched a brow up at
her. “How did you get in here anyway?”

The
assassin huffed, crossing her arms. “Ceald.
I can pick a lock, you know,” she chastised.

“A
warded one?” I asked, disblief
written on my face.

“I’m
a wizard!” she exclaimed. I gave her a flat stare. Nathyrra
held it for a few seconds before rolling her eyes in defeat.

“Fine,
I had a guy on the inside,” she said, flicking her eyes over to
the mushwood table. My ears pricked at the sound of frantic gobbling.
I glanced over to see my familiar buried head and shoulders in a
konspie, the fairy dragon’s butterfly wings quivering from the
frantic speed with which the creature was eating. Buttery crust caked
the upper portion of his limbs and I watched his forearms disappear
into the pie as he tried to push himself deeper.

“Thyrra!”
I groaned, “You can’t give him those, he’ll get too
fat to fly!” I flopped back against the pillows. “Go get
your own familiar already.”

Nathyrra
laughed. “No thanks, I’d rather corrupt yours.”

I
narrowed my eyes at her. “You rat ran away, didn’t it.”
The drow girl frowned petulantly, and was about to speak when a sharp
choking noise came from my familiar. I glanced back at him to see his
entire head covered in bug and berry juice, his mouth open with an
obscene bulge in his serpentine neck all the evidence I needed.
“He’ll be fine,” I said when I saw Nathyrra’s
worried expression. She shot me an incredulous look but turned back
to Oerth when he started to hack.

The
fey dragon gagged a couple more times, the bulge rocking back and
forth disgustingly before he managed to force it the rest of the way
into his gullet. My familiar didn’t even pause to catch his
breath before he dived back into the pie, chewing with renewed vigor.
I sighed. Nathyrra’s lips quirked. “I see why you only
feed him berries. That’s so gross,” she said.

“Yeah,”
I agreed, my tone morose. We watched Oerth a moment longer before I
asked, “Why are you here?”

Nathyrra’s
face light up as she bounced from her knees to her feet, running off
the bed to a bundle she had dropped on the floor. “I,”
she said proudly, “Have found you a costume.” Something
must have shown on my face because she scowled at me then. “It’s
not that bad,” she said, pulling out a length of shimmering
black silk. “You’ve seen it yourself, even. Remember that
vampire high priest?”

I
yawned, rubbing my eyes as I struggled for the name. “Soldaris?”
It sounded right, at least.

The
assassin nodded, straightening the cloth over her arm. “These
are his robes.”

I
had been leaning closer as my interest started to pique, but with
that I cringed away in disgust. “He died in those!” I
cried, “I’m not wearing that!” Asco’s blood,
that was appalling!

“Wha-
no, Ceald,” Nathyrra chuckled, “Hah, no, no not when he
died!” She held them up with both hands, showing an obvious
lack of bloodstains and holes. “When we were searching his
rooms for the key to the crypts, I found these in the back of a
wardrobe. They have some minor enchants see,” Nathyrra turned
the top piece of black satin over, revealing a long, wide, swirl of
silver runes adorning the length of sleeves. “It’s why I
picked them up, there’s some fascinating work around the-”
She saw my attention start to wane and hurried back to her point.
“Well, I was studying them last night and I brought them to
this great tailor that did a few alterations here and there.”
The assassin hesitated, then continued her thought. “I thought
they might be a nice thank you.” Nathyrra held the robes out to
me.

Caught
offguard, I blinked at her. “A thank you?” Why?

“Yeah,
I mean, well,” the drow girl was obviously flustered, not
expecting to have to explain herself. She seemed to decide on the
right words and held her gift out again. “From one friend to
another.” She gave me a warm grin. “Because I’m
grateful that you’re you.”

“Aww,
‘Thyrra,” I cooed, laying the honey on extra heavy. “I’m
touched.” Nathyrra blushed as I took the clothes from her,
tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Once I had a moment to
really see them though, I dropped my teasing pretense and gasped.
“Nathyrra! These are beautiful!” I picked out the silk
and held it up to the light. Truesilver spellthread glittered when I
spread the black silk out, marveling at the
craftsmanship.

“So
you’ll wear it then?” she asked. I grinned at her.

“Of
course I will.” I hadn’t expected, well, anything,
really, when Nathyrra said that she would get me something to wear,
but she’d actually
given me something I’d want
to wear. Thinking about attending the Seer’s festival reminded
me that I still didn’t know what Sulloth
Dair was,
other than something about peace or whatever Nathyrra had said
yesterday. “Ah, what is Sulloth
Dair
about? It’s not an Eillistraean day.” That much I was
certain.

“No,
it’s not. It goes back to a time before Lloth’s madness.
All drow celebrate them, but it varies from city to city.” The
drow sat down on the edge of my bed, tucking a leg under her butt.
“It’s a day that all the matron mothers of a city set
aside for...” she hesitated, trying to translate the word
correctly. “Revelry,” Nathyrra finally said, although her
tone said she didn’t think it was quite the one she wanted.

“So
I’m guessing that the Matron Maevirr and the Seer had to agree
to this together?”

“Of
course,” she said. “It’s about unity.” Her
lips parted in a toothy grin. “Which doesn’t happen very
often, since it takes them a long time to agree on anything. Sulloth
Dair usually
only happen every few years.”

Oh,
that explained it. I had wondered why I hadn’t heard more about
this holiday. Granted, I hadn’t known much about the Underdark
before I was sent here, but I knew a lot of the cultural basics.
Still... “Honestly, I simply can’t imagine what you drow
do for a party.”

The
assassin frowned. “We aren’t the bloodthirsty monsters
you surfacers think we are. A party’s a party. Dancing, food,”
she shrugged. “Sulloth
Dair are
times to drop all pretenses and rivalries and embrace the
celebration!”

“So
it’s a time to throw back and get wild drunk?” Nathyrra
laughed, but nodded yes. “And no one uses this as the perfect
opportunity to thin out the competition?”
Everything I’d read about the drow
stressed the drow emphasis on taking advantage of a situation. It
wasn’t like them to let a good thing slip by.

“Ceald!”
Nathyrra seemed that I would even say it. Her mouth worked twice as
she struggled to think of something to say. “That’d-
that’d be like- like shitting in the street! It’s just-
just filthy!” Her fists clenched in anger at even the thought.
“To do wrong to someone on Sulloth
Dair is
admit your weakness to everyone around you. It’s,” her
lips twisted with disgust. “It’s foul,” she
finished.

Struck
by the emotion in her reaction, I sat quietly, watching her
contemplatively. Her eyes were focused on her hands, her mind clearly
engrossed in memory. Personal experience,
perhaps, I surmised. “You really like Sulloth
Dair,
huh.”

Startled,
Nathyrra jerked back to me. “I...” she began, but cut
herself off. After a moment, her shoulders slumped, and a small smile
slid over her face. “Yeah,” she said simply.

I
returned her light smile. “It’s good, to see you so
happy.” I said. “You should smile more often.”

She
looked away, a dark blush spreading over her onyx cheeks. “Thank
you,” she mumbled, embarrassed. Nathyrra fumbled with her hands
before she spoke. “I should get back to the Temple.” The
assassin turned to give me a serious glare. “Be there in three
hours. I don’t care if you hide in a book for the rest of the
night, just be there then.”

I
rolled my eyes and laughed. “I promise.” I nodded towards
the door. Nathyrra rose and strode over the door, turning to glare
and mouth one last threat. “I promise! Shove off!” I
laughed.

I
waited until I was sure the door had closed before gathering the red
silk sheet about my waist and standing up. I rocked back on my heels
and stretched, wincing at the loud cracks, scratching my stomach as I
walked over to the remains of the demolished konspie on the table.

Oerth
craned his head up at me, licking his lips and looking rather smug.
“And just when did you learn to break my wards?” I asked.
The fairy dragon belched, a sparkling cloud of blue dust escaping his
mouth, before rolling over in the pie tin, hoping to invite a belly
scratch. Chuckling, I spread my fingers over the scaled belly and
rubbed until I heard a soft, lizardy snore. “Keep your secrets
then,” I said, straightening and retying the sheet about my
waist.

I
yawned again and padded over to a mushwood panel in the wall. Hooking
my fingers into a clever notch at eye level, I slid the door open and
stepped into another chamber. This one was smaller than the bedroom,
with wavy mosaics and elegant paintings of
river fauna on the walls.

A
stone tub dominated the little room. It, like the the bed, was raised
off the floor on a dais of black tile. A
plethora of soaps and bath oils littered the wide, flat rim, the
little bottles gleaming as the glow-shard above the door reacted to
my presence and brightened. This was something I had missed more than
any other luxury the city offered. Plugging the drain, I leaned over
the tub to turn the strange brass knobs on the wall. I heard a faint
gurgle and then steaming water poured out of a faucet carved to look
like a leaping fish. I pulled the sheet loose and dropped it to the
side, draping one leg over the rim to dip the tip of a toe into the
water. The heat was nearly too much at first, but after I adjusted I
was able to slowly ease my whole foot in.

Gingerly
sliding the other foot in as well, I shut the water off and reached
for some of the more appealing bath salts. Finding a sharp-smelling
blue powder that I thought was rather nice, I splashed a handful into
the bath before sinking into the water myself, wincing as the heat
touched a few of the more, well, sensitive places on my body. I
reclined against the slope of the tub, letting the heat penetrate my
skin and sink deep into my bones. Ah, the marvels of dwarven
engineering. This was sheer bliss, lying here with the steam in the
air filling my lungs, slightly sweating. It felt like an eternity
since the last time I had bathed like this. There had been quick
scrubdowns in cold streams, a few sponge baths in Drearing’s
Deep, but nothing where I could lay back and relax so completely.

An
oily bar of soap caught my eye. I picked it up and started to work up
a fine lather in my palms, thinking about the night ahead. It seemed
so at odds with drow society, but it also made some strange sort of
sense. The nomads in the Annouroch were equally taciturn, if not as
callous, but would throw intense celebrations at the drop of a pin.
Maybe one extreme just naturally encouraged the other. Nathyrra was
certainly a prime example of that. She was normally so reserved, and
the emotion I’d seen from her these last few days was the more
than I’d seen in the last two months I’d known her.
Although...

I
truly hadn’t expected her to thank me like that. She was warmer
than Valen, sure, but I guess I had underestimated the relationship
I’d had with her. It seemed like she was opening up to me now.
I dunked my head under the water and settled back again, thinking
about the drow assassin I had known that the Valsharess had pursued
the rebels relentlessly through the Underdark, but it was eye-opening
to hear the demon put it so bluntly. Hounded, having to flee from
almost every confrontation. No wonder Nathyrra had been nothing but a
distant, furvative shadow when I met her in Undermountain. I mulled
over how that would affect the march against the Valsharess’
fortress. City fighting was nothing compared to the flat-out warfare
of an open field. If I had been the linchpin
to the first victory of the Seer’s forces, and that was hard
enough, what was I going to have to do to beat the archdevil the
Valsharess had at her side?

My
thoughts drifted back to the battle yesterday. I snorted. Running off
alone like that just because I was angry. That had been reckless, so
very stupid, and I was lucky that I was so lucky. I pressed a soapy
hand to my face, sneering my own incompetence. To be captured so
easily! I growled, frustrated that I couldn’t push these
nagging thoughts away. The only reason I was still alive was because
I needed Valen to-

Valen.
Any thought about the battle yesterday was thrust out of mind the
moment I pictured him. Remembering the snarling anger on the demon’s
face made my blood quicken, sending a deep, stirring sensation down
through my bones. I held the image in my mind, aroused by the thought
that maybe he was one of those guys who got mad during sex, grunting
and growling in that low, raspy voice of his. Absently rubbing my
right hand over my chest, I stroked my left hand along the inside of
my thigh and over my sac, wondering what Valen was like in bed. I
imagined he could get a little rough, with jarring thrusts and his
face twisted into a derisive sneer, his upper lip curling back to
show a hint of canine. Tyr’s heart, that picture got my dick
stirring. I slid my right hand down to join my left, grasping and
tugging as my hips started to twist beneath the water. What about
when he came? Did he bear down and hold back his cries? Or maybe he
was the type who had painfully joyful orgasms, maybe he groaned and
sobbed as he furiously thrust faster, unable to control himself. I
felt a shudder tremble through my limbs. Heavens above, the demon was
so damn hot. I grasped myself tightly, bracing one leg against the
rim of the tub as my breaths started to get shorter.

The
demon had given me ample opportunities
to see him shirtless. I brought those to mind, fantasizing about what
he did to himself. Did he have the same sensitive stretch of skin
down his chest that I did? I ran my free hand across the ripples of
my taut stomach, envisioning Valen’s big, warm hand sliding
over the corded muscles of his abs. I felt a surge of energy with
that image and a little moan escaped my mouth. Where did the demon
touch himself? I pictured Valen sprawled on his bed, his tail twisted
around his arm and both hands pumping frantically around his thick
length. I tried to focus on his dick, but I couldn't
decide on a specific image. It kept shifting, sometimes veiny and
curved, sometimes it was surrounded by copper curls and sometimes
shaved clean. It was too hard to think, Valen naked was way too much
for my mind to handle. I could hardly- I could hardly string a- My
belly tightened, the first sign that I was losing it. I struggled to
keep the building tension down, not wanting to come just yet. Maybe
the demon tugged to the side instead of back and- back and forth- Oh,
fuck! I felt convulsions start to roll through my gut as I jerked
faster. Did his balls tighten and pull up when he- Asco’s
blood, what did he do when he shot? I pictured him doubling over, his
stomach a roiling mass of muscle and his face clenched in climax,
long white strands of semen streaking across his pecs, striking his
fac- oh, Tyr’s hairy-ass fucking, cunt-ragging cock~
My eyes rolled back in my head, my legs straightened and my free hand
scrambled for purchase as my hips were forced out of the water. A
whine tore from my throat while my dick tunneled through my fingers.
Everything felt so good,
the water
and stone and the oils and Valen, Valen’s
own cum hitting his face-
That
did it. My insides turned to goo, my hips spasming with the sheer
ecstasy
of orgasm. I continued to tug hard, ignoring the mess on my fingers
and chest until it got to the point just shy of pain.

I
stopped, panting heavily, twinging and shuddering with aftershocks.
Ow. Tyr’s heart, I almost had to check to make sure I hadn’t
lost any insides there. Feeling a brush of air against my cooling
skin, I relaxed my legs and slid back into the lukewarm water, a
giddy smile on my face. I felt so damn good, despite the crick in my
neck from thrusting out of the tub like that. It had been such a long
time since I was able to have a, um, moment alone quite as memorable
as that.

Mm,
Valen. A rush of feeling shuddered through and I groaned as I felt my
blood try to stir again. The demon was just so damn sexy. My grin
widened. I raised my right hand to rub my chest and grimaced when I
felt the sticky mess still coating my fingers. I unplugged the drain
and grabbed the bar of soap again, scrubbing myself clean with a
quick rinse under the faucet.

Refreshed,
if a tad dazed, I rose and climbed out of the tub on unsteady feet.
Excited and energized by climax, I ignored the stack of plush towels
and chose to simply use magic instead. Tiny bits of light sparked
from my fingers as I released the floodgates that held my power back.
Raw energy flowed through my system, making me quiver and almost
collapse as a glorious ache rode my nerves. I curled my fingers
around in circles, letting trace runes spin off harmlessly. Sometimes
an exhausting day of spellcasting felt as good as a day of hard
labor. Well, good of course being a relative term. It hurt to draw on
even this bit of magic, but it was the enjoyable ache of sore muscle,
except spread throughout the body.

My
knees started to wobble, so I let the energy dissipate and carefully
stepped out of the puddle of water I now stood in. I slid the paneled
door open, wincing at the brush of cool air over my bare skin.
Ignoring the open door, I moved over to the pile of clothing Nathyrra
had brought me, idly fingering the silver
threads. Something about the enchantment the spellthread formed
caught my eye. Admittedly, I wasn’t the best at enchantments,
but it didn’t seem right that the runes should extend so low,
or weave into each other so completely...

Curiosity
aroused, I held up the garment with both hands. Not being a tailor, I
didn’t know what kind of cloth it was, as it felt like silk but
had the weight of wool. It was black, true black, onyx. The dark
cloth absorbed the light, which made the shimmer of the silver stand
out all the more. I traced Thereu,
rune of binding, which melded into three runes I recognized as spell
stabilizers, but it didn’t- Oh. A flick of my wrist expanded
the rune diagram, the whorled into a glimmering pattern in the air
above the cloth. The pattern sewn into the robe was far easier to
read this way, and I could see what had caused my confusion. A
fainter series of glyphs, the older enchantment, had been both
reinforced and modified. I mentally ticked off the smaller
modifications and minor enchantments, such as the ones that made the
cloth more durable and ones that even gave it a bit of...
self-regeneration? My eyebrows quirked in surprise, but I found
myself growing ever more attached to the robes already. I was
terrible with a needle, and dangerous adventuring had left more than
one set of gear shredded beyond hope of repair.

Nathyrra,
or, at least, someone in the city, had recently reinforced the
previous enchantments and added something of their own. I discerned
Swi,
the rune of luck, displayed prominently
on the breast, just
over the heart, and I had to smile. It was arguable
whether the rune truly held any sort of power, but I was still
touched that she had included it. Separating
the diagram of the new enchantment from the old, I frowned as I
studied the foundation glyph. I recognized several offshoots as
variants on persuasion, and a few on vision, which seemed oddly
misplaced, but the basic rune was... Retd?
Rtdes?
I couldn’t place it.

Making
a mental note to ask Nathyrra later, and thank her again for such a
generous gift, I tossed the robes back on the bed and looked around
for my Bag. Catching sight of where it had tumbled from the dais,
I picked it up and stuck my arm in, concentrating on an image of
underwear in my head. My hand groped about blindly until I felt a bit
of cloth brush against my fingers. Dropping the pouch, I grinned at
what I’d found. They were undoubtedly my oldest pair, from
before I’d finished growing, and now they were a tad too small,
just enough to cling to every curve. I stepped into them, pulling the
pair up with an easy roll of my hips and straightening the few places
it had bundled up. I wandered over to the
floor-length mirror and paused to check myself out. “How you
doin’?” I said as I admired my reflection, unable to keep
my amusement from my face.

Still,
I did like what I saw. My stomach was taut. I didn’t have
corded muscle, but my abs were still clearly defined, and I was quite
proud of the sexy v-lines that arrowed down to my groin. I flexed my
arms, eying
the way my biceps stuck out. “Ooh yeah,” I said in a deep
voice, striking a pose. I glanced at my reflection and decided to
snake a hand into my underwear, cupping it around my junk. It made my
basket bulge.
At that point I stopped taking myself seriously and I arched my
wrist, making the bulge
even bigger. It ruined the suave attitude I was going for, and I
couldn’t help but laugh at my own antics.

Unable
to keep a straight face, I gave up on admiring myself and moved to
get dressed. The black pants went on first, and the moment I slid
them over my legs I had to appreciate how well cut they were.
Nathyrra must have had an eye for measurements, since the leggings
were a perfect fit. Well, almost perfect, I amended
as I grimaced and tugged at the inseam, trying to loosen it a little.

With
that, er, adjusted, I slipped into the beautiful silk shirt, just as
dark as the pants, and cut just as well. It had a matching leather
jerkin that formed a second skin after I laced it up. Finally, I
turned back to the heavy outer robes, frowning a little when I picked
them up. It wasn’t that I disliked the gift, they really were
quite remarkable, but I simply wasn’t a robe-wearing guy. I
liked the agility and, well, the look of trousers. Shame
it isn’t a coat,
I thought as I pushed my arms through the sleeves.

I
tugged on the ends of my sleeves (force of habit) and jerked when I
felt the robe suddenly change.
The voluminous sleeves shrank back, the extra folds of cloth
disappearing as the robe melded to the shape of my body. I felt the
hem pull off the floor and the waist constrict as I stumbled
backwards in confusion. The collar dipped and widened, little buttons
forming in a line down my chest as the robe
parted and closed itself. Then, the rune I had been unable to
decipher flashed in my mind and I had a spark of realization. The
rune wasn’t one, it was two, bound together. Breaking it in
half tied it into part of an overarching rune that dealt with form
and function, which meant that the robes could change shape to suit
the wearer. Damn, if I could have whistled I would have. That was a
nifty trick to tie into an enchantment. Nathyrra had given me a hell
of a lot more than a simple costume, this thing should cost fortune!

But
what did the other half mean? I moved back to the mirror, fingering
the swirl of silver thread on the coat’s breast. There were
elements of persuasion, vision, and... something else, but they too
were sewn into the larger, structural runes as well. Glancing at my
reflection, I ran my eyes over outfit’s new appearance
Even with the shirt and leather jerkin underneath, the top half of
the coat still managed to outline the entirety of my upper body. The
runes had slid into narrow bands lining the wide, open collar that
bared my throat, rising closer to the middle of my collarbone with a
graceful curve. The ridged collar rose to circle behind my neck.
Though it was low and not obtrusive, I still frowned and
concentrated, trying to reform the cloth again. Nothing happened. I
wasn’t particularly surprised, the
fact that the robes had two forms was shocking enough, but I had
still hoped to be able to will alterations myself.

My
eyes slid down the rest of the reflection. The waistline, too, had
constricted to show the exact curves of my hips, which seemed
emphasized by the way the rest of the coat hung down past my knees.
It didn’t hang completely limp; instead it somehow swung back
from my thighs to give full view of my legs- my eyes narrowed. I
shifted my weight from one leg to the other, watching my movements in
the mirror. Something suddenly seemed off. I bit my lip in thought as
I tried to place what exactly... persuasion and vision, why would
persuasion and vision go together... My
eyes snapped to the rune when it hit me.

“Glamor?!”
I exclaimed, staring at the spellthread. I reviewed, placing the
spell against the enchantment in my head, and finding that they
matched well enough. The enchantment sewn into the coat was faint,
and not nearly as misleading as true glamor,
but it was still there. A huffed laugh jerked its way free from my
mouth. Figures that would by why Soldaris had it made. It wasn’t
even near mild. All it would do is pull an extra two or three glances
where one would do, but... still. The rune was worked into the
integrity of the enchantment too, so it wasn’t like I could
yank it out myself without ruining the rest of the thing.

Shucks.
I had liked it so much too. I glanced at the mirror, really
appreciating what I saw. The true, almost light-absorbing black made
my dirty-blonde hair gleam in the shardlight, and the faint glimmer
of silver leading up the front. I was tan enough that the black and
silver didn’t make me look washed out or pale. In fact, it only
made my face stand out more. The line of my jaw was clearer than
ever, and I found myself enjoying the way the color black made my
face seem harsher, less delicate. Grinning slightly, I shook my hair,
ruffling it and glancing upwards to see a hint of bang hanging into
my eyes. It was starting to get too long again, I’d have to cut
it soon. An idle glance at the spinning atsro-globe clock on the big
dresser by my bed startled me into remembering Nathyrra’s
insistence that I be at the Temple in three
hours. I watched the arc of the sand-filled globe and tried to
calculate it into surface time, which meant that- I had thirty
minutes to get there? I quickly calculated again and found I was
right. Where had the time gone, I thought I had another hour and
half! Ah well, I’d wear Nathyrra’s gift, even if I
couldn’t do anything about the glamor attached to it. I did
really like the way it looked on me, after all.

I
grabbed my boots off the floor, grateful that they were black leather
too, and tugged them on. I stole another peek in the mirror and
brushed a few locks back into place before grabbing my money pouch
from the bedside table. If I left now I wouldn’t have to rush
across the city, and maybe have time to grab a bite to eat before the
festival began.

“I
may be out all night, don’t wait up!” I called to Oerth,
who gave a grumbly yawn and snorted, his tail flopping over the edge
of the pie tin. After one last cursory glance in the mirror, I strode
to the door and stepped out of the room. A hummed cantrip added
another ward to the door as I locked it. Mentally reminding myself to
look into how my familiar managed to break the first one, I trotted
down the corridor, searching for one of the
many balcony rooms that allowed access to the tower. I found one
quickly enough, wrapping strands of magic about my form as I strode
past the dangling curtains and out on to the wide balcony
that jutted far from the tower. A lack of weather, coupled with the
fact that many drow had an innate talent for simple magics, allowed
for all sorts of curious architecture that one would never expect on
the surface. These balconies were one of them. While I’m sure
there were stairs somewhere inside the tower, stepping off the
jutting platforms was far, far faster than walking past every single
floor in the building.

Falling
freely, I quivered in excitement
as the ground rushed up to greet me, but my descent started to slow
about thirty feet from the ground. Landing lightly, I hovered for a
minute, briefly considered simply flying to the Temple, but I quickly
dismissed the notion. For one, I did want to see a bit of the city,
maybe stretch my legs a bit. For another, flying usually looked
pretty stupid, unless you had wings. If I was late, I was late.
Nathyrra could learn a little patience.

Absentmindedly
trying to slide my hands into pockets that didn’t exist, I
sighed and settled for hooking my thumbs behind my belt. I strolled
out of the courtyard, setting a brisk pace down the street. Already I
could see clear signs of a festival about to be had. Shopkeepers had
their
doors wide open, hanging bright bits off cloth from their doorways
and dressed in garish costumes. There weren’t that many drow in
the streets just yet, but a few of the more enterprising merchants
had set up stalls offering a variety of hot foods and succulent
meats. The air was thick with delicious smells, and I felt my stomach
roar its hunger. I followed my nose to a bent, old drow pushing a
cart full of konspies. Her hair was piled in a neat bun atop her
head, and it bobbed as she craned her neck back to peer up at me.
“Rivvel?
Yuas anwz astej?”
It was mumbled and too fast for me to follow, but I recognized rivvel
in there, so I figured that she wanted to know why I had her.

“I’d
like one,” I said, knowing that she could not understand me but
still feeling the need to say something. I glanced meaningfully at
the steaming pies on her cart and held out a few silvers. She saw my
coin and grinned, nattering on about something in the drow tongue as
she bustled about cutting a good quarter of one pie out. As soon as
the knife slid through the buttery crust a thick waft of warm, gooey
pie hit my nose and I wanted to snatch the slice out of her hand. The
smell alone made me appreciate Oerth’s gluttonous
desires, I could hardly hold back myself. I traded her my coin and
reverently took the slice with two hands, immediately biting off a
huge mouthful and nearly moaning at how
good it tasted. The drow woman grinned even wider, pleased that I
liked her food, said farewell and started pushing her cart down the
street again. Something crunched with a burst of sweetness between my
teeth and I tried to pretend it was a berry and not one of the Jhengu
larvae. Konspie were made with both, but it was the larvae, baked and
pulped, that gave the pie the texture and flavor. Jenghu larvae were
somewhat of a delicacy. The adults were ignored except for breeding,
as far as I could tell, but the larvae were little, squirming
butterballs that the drow could not get enough off. Valen said that
many times the larvae were eaten raw as well, and while they may
taste good, I don’t think I was ready to actually acknowledge
the fact that I was eating bugs. Even tasty
ones.

Sadly,
the big slice hardly lasted to the end of the block. I glanced at my
fingers, but there wasn’t even anything to lick off. The
feeling of the pie settling in my stomach took the edge off my hunger
though, so I hooked my thumbs on my belt again and continued to
stroll down the street, taking in all the bustle of activity that the
celebrants were preparing for. It wasn’t just the merchants out
and about- it looked like there were simple citizens going around and
hanging festive streamers from anything they could reach, turning the
somewhat bland cobbled streets into a riot of color. Strains of music
from musicians tuning their instruments, interrupted sporadically by
laughter and loud voices, sounded from the streets I passed, and I
found that the longer I walked the more the excitement in the air
started to affect me as well.

I
had to admit, I was eager to see what exactly this festival would
entail. This was the part of adventuring that I loved the most;
seeing the contrast between the huddled, fearful people before and
the wild exuberance after. The streets remained relatively clear,
however, so I made it to the Temple Square in record time. The huge
plaza was still torn up from the fighting yesterday. I could see the
impact my body had made when I stepped from the guildhouse roof, and
there were numerous melted tiles from spell slinging and alchemist’s
fire.

The
Temple gates were wide open though, with a number of colorful flags
hanging from the bony hands of the grimacing iron skeletons that
served as the gates bars. Passing through into the courtyard itself,
I had to crack a smile at the sight of bright streamers and ribbons
hanging from the fangs of spider statues, colorful banners covering
up the bared breasts of drider reliefs. It never failed to amuse me
to see how little respect the Eilistraeen
rebels afforded the missing goddess. There were children running
around the statues, shouting and laughing, their parents leaning back
on low benches with indulgent grins. The wide gardens around the
Temple bore no sign of the intense fighting that the Temple Square
had. Instead the gardens were tranquil and calm, not even the
children’s shouts disturbing the beautiful elegance of the
place.

At
first I had been startled by the amount of natural vegetation found
in the Underdark, much less the vast array that was cultivated solely
for beauty. Softly glowing fungi lined the trails, providing light
for both the path and the nearly symbiotic flowers and small trees
that were highly prized by the drow living in the Underdark. From
what I’d gathered, the previous priestesses of Lloth had left
the Temple grounds barren of life, and it was only with the influx of
Eilistraeen refugees to the abandoned temple that the gardens had
started to grow. They had pulled down and defaced the most important
statues to Lloth, and replaced them with sacred symbols of Eilistraee
where they didn’t simply re-carve them into statues of their
own goddess. I suspected that many of the rebels were more than
inclined to stay. After all, the city was near the outskirts of drow
civilization; it was weeks away from the Valsharess’ own birth
city, and even that was months from the great city of Menzoberranzan.
House Maevirr was certainly keen on the divine protection the
priestesses afforded them.

It
felt good to know that the rebels would have a home to return to when
this was over. My eyes slid up the thick vines of the climbing
flowers that lined the pillars of the temple. The pale, silver
luminescence of the big petals softened the harsh, almost malevolent
air of the Temple, giving it a pleasant feel. Yes, the rebels were
definitely going to stay.

As
I reached the wide, long series of steps that led up to the temple
proper, I saw Nathyrra wander out from the shadow of the pillared
arcade. The assassin had shed her tight black leathers for a sleek,
form-fitting white gown. Her hair was coiled and braided tightly to
her head, and though her sleeveless dress was bound around her neck,
it was sheer enough that it was only the dim light that kept it from
being see-through. I wouldn’t have recognized her were it not
for the same wooden countenance that flashed across her face whenever
she stopped making the effort to appear open and inviting. She moved
into pool of light and her entire body was outlined, every curve,
with the flimsy dress. My face coloring, I averted my eyes, to see
that most all the drow women wandering about the temple were in the
same type of dress. None of the drow I’d seen on the streets
were wearing so little. Seeing an Eilistraeen
man in a light white shirt and pants just as thin wrap his arm around
a woman clad only in strips that barely made her decent, I surmised
that it must be part of following Eilistraee.

Cresting
the last step, I tried to ignore the feeling that I suddenly felt
like I was overdressed. I mean, I was really wearing essentially
battle armor while everyone else around me was wearing a few scraps
that could be torn off in a harsh wind. Musing, I made my way towards
where Nathyrra stood between two pillars. The sound of my footsteps
caught her ear and she casually glanced my way before she did a
double take and turned to get a full look at me.

I
saw her eyes widen. “If you laugh, I’m leaving,” I
threatened the moment her eyes lit on me.

“Now
Ceald,” she chastised, “I wasn't going to laugh. It's
very becoming. It sets off those lovely green eyes very nicely.”

I
have to admit that her flattery was doing wonders to dispel my
qualms. “It looks good on me?” I asked, pleased and
wanting to hear more. I self-consciously ran my hands down the coat
once again, unnecessarily since it clung so well that there wasn’t
a chance for it to bunch up or wrinkle. “I mean, it’s...
kinda revealing.”

Nathyrra’s
eyes sparkled. “It’s not revealing, it’s just got a
really good cut!” She pursed her lips and inspected my outfit
fully. “Although intriguing would be an appropriate word,”
she said with a hint of a leer. Blushing, I was about to speak when I
head Valen’s deep, incredibly masculine voice.

“I'd
say alluring is more suitable.” Tyr’s heart, I felt
something shudder inside me with that. Twisting slightly, my breath
nearly caught in my throat at the sight of him. The demon was clad in
a sea-green shirt with a deep V running down from his collar, extra
material bunched at his waist. I wasn’t familiar with the
style, it wasn’t something I’d seen anywhere in my
travels. His legs were clad in a pair of bulky, blue-black pants that
hid his form entirely, yet it made me desperate to tear them off and
see for myself what treasure was hiding behind them. I had to wrench
my eyes away quickly. Fuck! How could he be clothed head to toe,
showing only a hint of muscular chest and still drive me wild?

Nathyrra
stepped forward, eying me again. She tapped a finger against her
lips, as if considering Valen's words. “Perhaps tempting?”
she offered. I sputtered, blushing furiously now, watching in horror
as her eyes sparked at the prospect of a new weakness in my already
flawed armor.

Valen
was quick to jump in on the game. “Provocative.” My eyes
slid from Nathyrra’s to his, and I was almost stunned by the
intensity I saw in them. It didn’t help that the demon had left
his bangs free of his warrior’s braid to hang over his face, so
his bright, ice-blue eyes were framed by long, blood red locks.

I
managed to find my tongue. “What are you two doing? Quoting a
thesaurus?” I tried to scoff, but I think I had already lost.

The
slender assassin hummed, leering openly now. “Appetizing maybe?
Hmm, nooo...” she licked her lips, making me shrink away.
“Delectable.”

I
spun away, my face practically on fire as I tried to not-quite hurry
away. “S-Stop! It’s not funny!” I said, trying to
make them quit. Wordplay was never something I was very good at, and
coupled with the fact that Valen made me so nervous and uncertain; I
was way out of my league with these two. As much as I hated it, I
also wanted to hear more, and at the same time I was both terrified
and elated to think that anything they said was actually true. Not
wanting to outpace them though, I was forced to slow and simply keep
two steps ahead, which meant I still had to hear every word of their
banter.

“Arousing.”
He growled as he said it, and I almost quivered at the thought that
it sounded like he’d been about to tackle me to the floor. The
two were incorrigible, each ready with a euphemism worse that the one
before. My ears were burning. It appeared that my only hope now was
to get to the Seer as quickly as possible. She was motherly to the
point that even Nathyrra was reserved around her. I
tried to think about anything but the teasing game my companions were
playing, but it was no use. I couldn’t help but hear every
word.

Once
I crossed the Temple threshold though, I found myself nearly gaping
in awe. The tall, cathedral windows, originally filled with pictures
of Lloth, were completely gone. I could feel the touch of wind over
my cheeks, and see the starry night sky stretching out to the horizon
in every single one. It was only illusion, but so breathtakingly
complex that I still lost myself in the sight of it. Chandeliers had
been dimmed, so the only light came from the open windows. Someone
had even gone to the trouble of crafting the noise of the wind
rustling through leaves as it passed around the walls.

Nathyrra
spoke from my left. “The surface,” she said. I glanced at
her, to find her eyes deep and reflective. “The Goddess is with
us tonight.” Other Eilistraeen
drow were wandering about the tall, columned hall we had strode into,
some kneeling in contemplation and others staring up through the
windows, their mouths open in awe. In corner of my eye I saw a toothy
grin flash across the assassin’s face. “Temptatious,”
she suddenly said.

I
spotted my opportunity to silence the Nathyrra. “Hah,” I
cried in triumph, whirling about to confront her. “You already
said tempting. You repeated a word!” She pouted, but conceded
defeat. Relieved elation flooded my system. With my left side nicely
quelled, I was able to direct a victorious glare at Valen, who would
find it hard to continue a one sided conversation.

Valen
merely gave me a sly, appraising smirk, making sure I saw his eyes
rake across my body. “I wasn't describing your clothes, Ceald.”

...
Words fail to describe the sudden influx of arousal that surged
through my blood. In that instant, I would have done anything, any
act imaginable, if only the demon would simply do me. I
wanted Valen to just snarl and take what he wanted, enough of these
stupid games. Fuck me, demon, was on the verge of rolling off
my tongue when I felt the presence of the Seer.

I
choked and turned around as the Seer swept up to us, her flowing
white gown immaculate as ever. Her eyes were river blue, not red like
the rest of the drow, and her flawless white hair was piled artfully
up on her head. Despite the fact that the Seer had to be at least six
hundred years old, her beauty was still striking. Her eyes met mine
and I thought I saw the flicker of a tiny grin pass on her lips, but
I took no notice of that. The Seer’s appearance gave me the
focus that I needed to distract me from the current train of thought.

“Ceald,
Valen, Nathyrra,” she greeted warmly, her voice like smooth
velvet. She leaned forward for a kiss on the cheek from each of us.
It wasn't something we consciously chose to do; she was just so
gentle and kind that it sort of poured out. I wouldn't have been
surprised if a horde of barbarians greeted her that way.

“Mother
Seer,” greeted Nathyrra, smiling at the priestess, “Ceald
doesn't believe my words when I say that his clothes are an excellent
improvement over his standard wear. Growled most of the way here.”
I drew my shoulders back and felt my nostrils flare. The nerve of the
tattling assassin! And I had only been growling because she and Valen
were teasing me!

Wow,
that sounded childish. Damn her! If looks could kill, I'm sure the
glare I leveled at her would have at least maimed her horribly.

“Truly
Ceald?” the Seer asked, pulling my attention back to her. She
reached forward to brush imaginary lint off my shoulders. “Well,
I think you look absolutely marvelous. Breathtaking would be the word
I think, Valen.”

I
jerked in surprise, my eyes darting to her face, where I saw a hint
of a knowing smile. “Come,” she said, turning around. She
gestured to the two guards by the great doors of the temple’s
sanctuary, who bowed low and pulled the doors open for her. The Seer
strode through, her diaphanous gown swirling elegantly behind her.

I
continued to stare. “How did she...”

Nathyrra
rolled her eyes and prodded me in the back. “She’s the
Seer,” she said simply. “Get a move on Ceald, people are
waiting.”

Mwe,
She’s the Seer, I mimicked,
following the priestess’s path. Seers were only supposed to see
brief visions of calamities and wicked portents and the like, not
Nathyrra and Valen teasing me!

I
parted the heavy black curtains that hung beyond the doors and
stepped into a room that was radically different from the long hall.
It was had a high, vaulted dome that was lined with bright,
white-glowing shards reminiscent of stars. It was huge, with a sunken
floor and a wide, low staircase leading down from the doors to the
center of the room. It was also filled with Eilistraeen
drow, all of them focused on me. At that point I realized I’d
been set up.

The
Seer smiled at me from the corner of her eye, already in the middle
of a speech. She didn’t need to raise her voice; the stairs
were at just the right level to carry her words out over everyone in
the room. She clasped my hand in hers. “This
is the champion Eilistraee
promised, and the champion Eilistraee provided! We have beaten the
Valsharess back, dealt her a mighty blow!” Her followers
cheered and clapped, as she continued. “The Goddess shall
shelter us, and destroy those who seek to do us harm, who seek to do
others harm. Tomorrow, we march to destroy the Valsharess!” The
drow hollered and cheered even louder than before, but they were
quieted when the Seer held out her hands for silence. “Eilistraee
also pays her dues,” she said, a little softer, “And we
know it is only through you, Ceald Amothien,” she continued,
looking at me, “That our victory was achieved. You have but to
ask anything of us, and we shall grant it.”

I
stared at her, speechless. “Oh, no, I couldn’t take
anything,” I stammered, shaking my head at her offer.

The
tall priestess smiled, and I swore her eyes held a glint of
satisfaction. “Yet again, you eschew all reward, but I'm afraid
we could not leave you without some parting gift, Ceald Amothien.”

An
attendant, dressed in the same off-white of the Seer, stepped
forward, holding out a red box. She opened the velvet case, revealing
a black choker, affixed to which was an emerald the size of a robin's
egg. The gem was a deep, dark green, carved into an oval, and I could
sense the many layers of powerful enchantments radiating from the
jewel. The Seer’s long, dainty fingers closed around the black
band, holding the choker up as she turned back to me.

“This
is a priapt of memory, vitality, and wisdom. May it show the world
your worth as one of those in Ellistraee's grace. May it guide your
thoughts and keep you from the path of harm, and may it mend your
wounds and keep your body pure. Wear this gem from our heart always,
I beg of you.” The Seer leaned close, a small smile teasing her
lips as she added, “Although I fail to see how its elegance
could add anything to your already sparkling beauty.”

Powerless
before her gentle smile and soft, sincere flattery, my mouth worked
twice before I shrugged, a little helplessly, and raised my chin to
allow her to fasten the choker around my throat. The band felt
strange and heavy when I swallowed as she pulled back, clasping her
hands on my shoulders with pride. My mouth worked again, but all I
could manage was a quiet “Thank you.”

The
Seer smiled at me, and for a moment it was simply me and her, the
room, the temple, the celebration lost in the eternity I saw hidden
in her eyes. She reached forward and brushed her finger against the
gem, and I shuddered as I felt the enchantments inside activate and
take effect. “Every word I spoke is true, Ceald,” she
said softly taking my hand again. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “You
mean so much to us, all of us. It is only through you that we have
survived this long, and only through you that we may continue to. Too
often I have seen heroes walk away, without a single word of praise
to warm their hearts.” The Seer brought a hand up to tilt my
face back to hers. I wanted to cringe at the gratitude I saw there,
and tried to open my mouth to speak, but she cut me off. “No,”
she said a little smile playing on her lips, “It is not
nothing, Ceald. You have our gratitude, and that of our Goddess. You
may not follow her, and perhaps you never will, but that doesn’t
change the fact that you still do her service. This,” she said,
touching the choker again, “Is the least we could do to thank
you. Promise me you’ll keep it?” she asked.

I
could only stare at her, feeling frighteningly disturbed by the fact
that this woman, whose indomitable strength had lead a constant
resistance against the tenants of one of the most powerful goddesses
to grace Faerun, that this woman would be beholden to me of all
people. I nodded, unable to do anything else. She smiled at me then,
a wide, true smile of joy, and the moment slowed once more, until
there was nothing but the swirling depths I saw in those river-blue
eyes.

But
the moment passed and she broke the gaze to face her followers and
yell, “Our champion!”

That
was the cue for the musicians to start playing, and the massive
chamber erupted with the sound of reverberating cheers. Almost
instinctively, I shrouded myself with magic and slipped from the
Seer’s side, weaving my way away from her. I didn’t want
to get caught in a press of people cheering and admiring me, it would
be simply too much to handle. I clung to the edge of the chamber,
feeling a bit relieved that no one seemed particularly keen on
searching for me. My thoughts cleared and I was able to actually
think now that I wasn’t standing before every Eilistraeen
drow in the city. Feeling a little calmer, I leaned back against the
wall and looked around.

The
hall was packed with people, every single one wearing the tiny scraps
of clothing that it seemed were custom for followers of Eilistraee.
There had to be more than a few thousand drow crammed onto the floor,
packed into the tiered galleries that lined the upper levels. My eyes
slid up the room, marveling that they could so easily feel
celebratory in the very sanctuary of their goddess’s archenemy.
I had to smile at the fact that, if it weren’t for Valen and
the Seer, I would have been the only one wearing something that
couldn’t be torn off by a slight breeze- or someone’s
grasping hand. I saw a laughing drow girl fight, rather pointlessly
since the battle was already lost, to keep the last bit of white
against her form, her two friends not taking no for an answer as the
three girls started to laugh and tear at everyone around them. I
politely averted my eyes the moment I saw the first girl’s
breasts spring free, my cheeks tingeing red.

A
lithe drow, cute and about my age, smiled at me, but kept walking
disinterestedly, his gaze sliding from my face. Good, I didn’t
have to worry about innate resistance to spells applied to myself, at
least. I wasn’t invisible or anything, to do that was just
asking to get stepped on and found out. Instead I was merely blended
with the people around me, so at most one saw a friendly face but
nothing more. It was a weak spell, and intentionally looking for me
would break it, but I found it was handy in times like these. It made
crowds tolerable. I could relax and enjoy myself at my own pace
instead of having to deal with the stressful niceties of social
interaction.

I
ran my fingers over the emerald on my neck as I watched the
Eilistraeen drow start a
wild dance in the center of the hall. It spread like wildfire,
everyone, male, female, throwing themselves into the music. The tune
was fast-paced and catchy, and all of the dark elves were grinning
and laughing maniacally as they spun each other about. I have to
admit, I was a bit tempted to go join them. Though I knew I would be
more than welcome to, standing alone against the wall, surrounded by
Eilistraeen devout, made me vaguely aware of how separated I felt
from the rest of the elves in the room. Perhaps it had only been
because I had just passed a starry sky, but I found myself comparing
everything to the surface world once more.

Whatever
train of thought that realization would have lead me down was jarred
from the track when a loud cheering rose from the midst of the drow
dancers. I could see a pocket forming around two men, their onyx skin
glistening with sweat as they paced around each other during a brief
lull in the music. One was tall (well, for an elf) and had to be
younger, his hair cut into short spikes and his mouth twisted into a
wide grin. The other was older, with long white hair that rolled over
his shoulders and rippled in the light. They each had eyes only for
the other, though it was clear this was a competition born of
rivalry. A flourish of something stringed sent them springing back
into motion. I was enthralled by the way they moved, graceful,
purposeful, and blatantly sexual. The cheering ring of drow
surrounding the two was clapping and urging each one to do something
more provocative than the other, and my eyes widened when the older
one with long white locks whipped around and yanked the white strips
that only just barely managed to cover anything right from the man’s
hips. A startled cry came from the crowd as the spiky-haired drow
simply stood proud, his hands on his hips. He certainly had a lot to
be proud of too; his dick, even soft, looked long and thick, swaying
as he swung his hips around to confront his rival. It looked like the
rival was shocked too. He was still on his knees, and I could see his
eyes flick from the younger drow’s impressive member to the
man’s face several times, his body quivering. Some silent
communication must have passed between them then, because I saw him
silently hold up the scraps of his rival’s pants. The younger
drow grinned and took them, holding them over his groin and striding
from the circle, his plump, round cheeks making me squirm and wish he
would have stuck around for a while longer. His older rival remained
crouched there for a moment longer before he, too, leapt up and ran
after the guy. There were many loud catcalls and raucous laughter, but the
circle filled in again as people started to get back into the energy
flowing through the air.

As
fascinating as the dancers were, the new ones did nothing to overcome
the sexual charge I now felt throbbing in my blood. I eventually
found my eyes wandering about for Valen. I saw him leaning his
shoulder against a smooth pillar, his arms folded across his chest as
he watched the wild moves of the dancing drow. I could see his mouth
curve in a grin, and I found myself fantasizing yet again about those
lips, that pale skin, what that excess of cloth hid. Arousal started
to stir my blood, and I subtly ground my buttocks back against the
wall behind me. I… just wanted, so badly…

The
demon perked up and glanced about. I flushed when I realized what I
was doing and jerked my eyes away before he could see me. I turned
about and desperately sought some source of escape, before I realized
just how alone I was in the midst of the celebration.

The
Seer was chatting with Deekin and what looked to be several drow
bards, Nathyrra was looking seductively into the eyes of Commander
Imloth, who didn't appear all that disinterested in her conversation
with him. Glancing about, I was unnerved to see how provocative the
dancing was starting to get, bordering on outright licentious.
Clothing, at least, what little there had been in the first place,
was being rapidly shed to reveal taut, obsidian bodies grinding
sweatily against one another. I jerked my eyes away from one couple
obviously doing a little more than dancing and took a steadying
breath to fight the overstimulation. I didn’t want to be there,
in the hall anymore. It wasn’t any sort of moral outrage that
drove me away from the Eilistraeen
celebration, it was that… it just wasn’t me, wasn’t
who I was. I had come for Nathyrra, let the rebels honor me and
accept their compensation, so, like Nathyrra had told me in my room,
I was free to go.

I
made a beeline for the door.

Had
I been paying closer attention to my surroundings, I would have
noticed Valen's eyes trail me as I left.

+==---=---==+

Oh
noes! Aww, that poor little elf’s ‘bout to get raped!

Anyways,
tell me if this works! It’s focused on Ceald more than anything
else, tell me what you thought of everything, I’d love to hear
what you got to say.

Oh,
and Valen’s wearing something that’s probably Japanese,
if the Japanese lived in Faerun. A haori or whatever (Ceald’s
never seen one and therefore doesn’t know what it’s
called).
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Ceald Amothien