The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Isabela]

"Of course. And if there's anything I can do to help, you just say the word. After what you did for me in Sweetwater, you know I owe you one."

[Varisia Primfana]

Offering her another smile, Varisia then looks over at her husbands. "See to the girls, please. Things are..." She shakes her head. "Things are greatly in flux, so I'm going to need you two to help Jessica take over almost entirely for a while." She doesn't bother to wait for them to agree, nor give them a chance to ask questions, instead taking Isabela's arm and guiding her back into the house proper. 

She's silent a moment or two, long enough to get well out of eavesdropping range. "It won't be tonight, or possibly tomorrow, but I will very likely-- Setting things aside for a while to take pleasure with you will be very welcome," she finally says, giving Isabela a lackluster leer that doesn't really reach her eyes. 

[Isabela]

Isabela reaches out, stroking Varisia's cheek gently with the back of her hand. "If you're sure. I can be very... diverting. Sometimes it can be good to get out of your head first, before you deal with the crisis. What's happened? How can I help?"

[Varisia Primfana]

Varisia hesitates, thoughts churning. Should I-- I don't have everything in place yet but-- Traitorous cunt, after everything I did for her, she-- No, focus. Isabela. Should I plant the first seed? Should-- Varisia's eyes dip slightly, lingering on the swell of Isabela's breasts, so much more generous than her almost boyish ex-wife. "Not here," she says abruptly, diverting their path. She moves rapidly, ending up in her office. She closes the door, then moves to sit on the front of her desk, facing Isabela.

"I-- my--" She pauses a moment, purposely looking vulnerable and distraught for a brief second. "My wife is dying," she finally blurts out.

[Isabela]

Dying. Oh boy. I am not good with this sort of thing, is Isabela's first traitorous thought. Her mouth finds the right words almost by rote: "I'm so sorry for your loss." I just wanted a little tumble and a chance to check out the rumors of a half-drow of the right age in her household, and now... Isabela, what have you gotten yourself into?

"Is there anything the healers can do?"

[Varisia Primfana]

Varisia lifts her hands, then drops them in a gesture of uncertainty. "There was magic involved and--" She shakes her head. "Sorry, I'm not-- I'm having done what can be done, but it's not-- Sorry. This is... very much not what you were looking for," she says ruefully. "I've set things in motion and that's that for now. All I can do until tomorrow is..." She snorts. "Fret. Second-guess. Fuss with things, arrange for business to run itself for a while I suppose."

[Isabela]

"Again, if you need a distraction, I'm your woman. I am willing to focus on you, tire you out, get you some sleep that I'm sure you'll need in the morning." Isabela spreads her hands, making it clear that the decision is up to Varisia. 

[Varisia Primfana]

Varisia lowers her gaze, her initial response stalling before her mouth even opened. Why not? I agreed to not have sex with other women outside of work but that was-- any promises I've made to her are... 

"Yes," she says abruptly, sharply. "Yes. It's been a long time since-- Fair warning, I'm very... agitated and pent up. I'm going to want long, hard and rough and I'm very much not in the mood for cuddling or sweetness."

[Isabela]

"Sounds perfect," Isabela grins. "Let me brew up some Willowbark ahead of time so I can take it and I'll be ready when you need me." Once she would have agreed without stipulation, but as time goes on, she's learning to take care of her body a little better -- and she has something she wants to do tonight, after all. 


Willowbark doesn't end up covering it; she ends up sipping a Cure Light Wounds Potion to help take care of the last of her wounds by the time they're done. Ugh, I'd forgotten she doesn't really do aftercare, Isabela thinks to herself, as she slips out of bed. Went right to sleep afterward. Selfish bitch. Still, she's really good at what she does, she adds, her brain going a little dreamy despite her attempts to focus. Down girl. Focus. 

Isabela leaves her boots off, leaving them just in the hallway outside Varisia's parlor. She does pull her clothes back on, wincing a little as they brush against the bruises her potion didn't quite eradicate and the tea isn't quite strong enough to dull. She checks a mirror in the hallway: there's a nasty bruise across her cheek from where she was backhanded for giving too much lip, but she does manage to arrange her hair under a simpler bandanna to replace the jewled headpiece she wore here. Good enough. I'm not looking to be beautiful anyway. Just check in on the guy, confirm he's not my Zev, and then back out to the guest room to sleep. 

She creeps toward the back door, the one that leads to the courtyard, and out into the night, but motion catches her eye-- someone making their way toward the door, across the courtyard from the men's quarters. She wouldn't have seen him if it wasn't a full moon out, if she wasn't so practiced at detecting hidden folks. She walks, casually, as though she hasn't seen him, and then darts out an arm to grab him as he moves past, springing to the side faster than he was expecting. 

"Out for a stroll, luv?" she says as she spins her captive, but her breath catches in her throat as she sees his face in the moonlight. 

His face. 

[Zevran]

Fuck! I don't have time for this! Despite his fury and impatience at the interruption, her look of shocked recognition causes the dagger against her ribs to halt with just a faint prick of blood on the tip. Her expression... and her eyes. Something about those eyes... "I live here, you don't," he snaps out, gambling on a truthful bluff.

[Isabela]

I'm a guest dies on its way to her lips. "Zevran," she breathes, in wonder and disbelief. "How-- you're here. Of all places, you're really here." 

[Zevran]

"I am," he says, a bit of confusion creeping in. "What of it?" Who is she? Why does she-- Slaver? Slave? No, she's no slave. Ex-slave, perhaps, but not for long and long since besides. "And what of it to you?"

[Isabela]

"You don't remember," she says, her face falling. She closes her eyes a moment, taking a deep breath. "It's been a dozen years now, of course you don't remember. It was probably just an ordinary day to you. But it changed everything for me. You saved my life, Zevran, and I've been looking for you to repay that debt."

[Zevran]

"Twelve years? That was..." He frowns, eyes narrowing. "I know I've met you before, but that was not... Saving lives was not my primary use back then," he says, voice bitter. Still, almost despite himself, he's easing back from the edge of lethal response. "Who are you?"

[Isabela]

"I'm Isabela, but that's not how you knew me," she says quietly. "I was wed to Luis D'antiva, in Glaley."