Kirabel Val'thras

They had waited until the blood had dried on the ground, the fickle half-light of a dying fire casting deceiving shadows across the canvas tent and causing the crimson ooze to gleam. Three tall figures stood around the hunched over, chest billowing form of a Kaldorei male. Even in the dim glow it was clear this unfortunate individual had been worked over in an attempt to procure some tantalizing bit of information, but the murmering between two of the three signaled that it was turning into a failure.

“ I told you this wasn’t a good idea and you couldn’t be bothered to listen due to your hatred.”

Came in hissed agitation, the dim flare of Sin’dorei gaze cast sidelong in an undercurrent of disgust.

“ This is how...

It was a teasing featherlight touch, the memory of lips against her temple - warm breath stirring the tendrils of gold that curled against tanned skin. The only thing that seemed to keep her held in the realm of the living was the memory of aureate hands moving slow. Grabbing a glass, scritching at the back of his neck with coy endearment; masculine hands, hands she missed.

But it fell away from the Negotiator as body started to stir itself into wakefulness and like a familiar friend, remembered but not missed, the pain crept into the spots that had been tediously plucked at to extract information from Kirabel’s broken lips - dagger tickled sides, toes that had lost all sense of feeling from distorted angles, nails that would very...

A finger tapped against the polished wood of her desk, a raucous gesture of idle annoyance as mind continued to tick off completed tasks with each rap of manicured digit.

“ Have you come to a decision, Captain? Your contract is coming up for renewal and intelligence is getting antsy. Will you continue in your work with them?”

Mind had warped over the screams that rang through the decrepit recesses of her mind, specks of dried blood picked from beneath her fingernails a fine powder on top of the pristine white vellum that awaited her signature. But all Kirabel the Vicious could do was think about the way gilded hands moved down the feline arch of her spin in a roiling through of pleasure, a kiss placed in gentle accompaniment...

The moon peeked over the soft haven of cloud cover, dusted stars twinkling out their laughter as the Captain made her way home in a daze. Fingers moved in a ragged comb through the silvery strands that were tugged into an annoyed ponytail as legs eked out a rhythm to the drunken gait. Unhooking the button of vest, an enameled flask was retrieved like a lifeline and the contents swigged as a chill started to set itself in her bones.

Not far to go, now on the familiar road leading back to the modest family estate, the familiarity did little to settle the aggravating discomfort of the evening and inwardly those bits of her were picked apart much like how her own forward suggestions no doubt came across. Mulling over the newly met...

“ Welcome home, Lady Val’thras.”

It was most difficult to summon a smile, keeping on a face of utter collected control when inside the war still thrummed violent; dripping decadence in bloody diplomatic splatters. Chin lifted a fraction, revealing the sturdy set of eyes that were far too seeing in their piercing quality to be called outwardly kind. But that forced smile, collected pieces of mustered kindness threaded itself at the corners to lessen the frosted chip of assessing gaze as it swept over the entrance way of the family estate - a home she never thought to see again. Chin lifted, not allowing that proud head to dip in a show of worrisome instability.

“ Thank you, Lyriam.  It is certainly good to be home and I...

First time had been disorienting in her waking, feeling the press of lips to the back of her neck in a morning-light wake up and the strangeness of having someone at her back when before she had been met with a chill reminder of an empty side of the bed. It caused breath to hitch, soon intimately aroused in a wash of warm breath was the mumbled greeting that tickled the little hairs at the nape, drawing her back into an embrace that had banished all prior nervous doubts.

The second, however, left Kirabel with the slowly forming acceptance of one who could certainly get used to this - to him.

Only the faintest hues of pale violet peaked picturesque in waning anticipation of the coming sun. A hazy twilight hush that cast about the room...