The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Zevran]

"That is..." Zevran shakes his head, bemused and scornful at that particular law. "Wait. What does 'dressing like a woman' even mean here? I've seen women wearing everything from skirts to suit coats."

"It's less about the type of garment and more about the cut and style," Nox supplies somewhat helpfully.

[Shisou]

"A male dressing in clothing cut to flatter a woman gets a mild penalty. A male who gives any woman the impression that he is female is a harsh penalty. And it goes up for using magic to disguise yourself as a woman or to assume a woman's form." 

[Zevran]

Zevran rubs at his face, looking vexed. "Why can nowhere..."  His words trail off into inaudible grumbles. "Well, clearly none of us give even a kiss, much less a fuck, so, by all means, remain as you are more comfortable."

[Shisou]

"Right, anyway, if you get your brush you can brush my hair a little before I change back, but then I gotta go, I can't let them catch me like this. And you shouldn't be talking to people, mister. Y. person. Whatever the xenogender form of 'mister' is." 

Carbonne says something in Terran, and Shiori sticks out her tongue at him. "Brat."

[Zevran]

At Nox's pleading look, his twin rolls his eyes but gets to his feet to fetch a brush from their room. Zevran studies Shiori for a moment, then announces, "I shall be reading in the lounge area. I shall sing out if anyone enters."

[Shisou]

"Thank you. For all of this, not just-- thank you," says Shiori, before Zevran can leave. 

[GamesMaster]

"AAGH!" 

At the wordless shout and the crashing sound that immediately follows, The Iron Bull rushes into Coquette's bedroom -- but the shout gave him warning, enough time to tell Krem to stand down as he rushes in. This proves to be justified when he finds about what he'd expected: Coquette panting in the middle of the floor before going for the other desk chair, hoping to hurl it across the room as he did the first. 

[The Iron Bull]

Aww fuck, not again. Bull flinches as Cedric- and he's damn sure it's Cedric right now- detours briefly to kick a seat cushion angrily. Not because of the cushion, or even the vase that it shatters against the floor, but because of how it makes it clear about just how angry Cedric is, that he couldn't hold off venting his rage long enough to go another ten feet first. "Talk to me, boyo," Bull asks from a deliberate distance of seven feet.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"She sold my womb," he snarls. "To a slaver!" 

[The Iron Bull]

"Uh, what?" Oh fuck Cedric just referenced having a womb. Fuckitty fuck fuck.

[Coquette Blacquin]

He hurls another seat cushion, this time toward the bedroom area at least. "That sick fuck sold MY child! Three and a half fucking years so I can what, give away the babe! No, not even give -- sell her into slavery!"

[The Iron Bull]

Okay, this isn't... Looking around quickly, he spots that wicker screen... thingie... that Coquette got from some society friend or another. It only takes a few seconds for him to rip one of the border strips off and stride over to Cedric. He thrusts the four foot long bit of lightweight but rigid wood at him, saying curtly, "enough. Arm up and defend yourself, boyo."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Grateful for the distraction, Cedric grabs his rapier  -- never far, even if it's usually stuffed into an umbrella stand -- and puts up a rousing defense against Bull's onslaught. Eventually he collapses onto the couch that still has cushions, crying for mercy as he lets his rage abate.

[The Iron Bull]

Tossing aside the splintered stump that used to be his 'weapon' without a second thought, Bull falls to his knees in front of the couch. He leans over, wrapping Cedric in his arms. He doesn't speak, doesn't even try to find the words to make whatever this is better. He just rocks the smaller man in his arms and cries with him.

Talking can come later.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Cedric pulls back faster than Cindy would have, though he does take a long moment in Bull's arms -- something he's had to learn, to take time for himself, his grief as well as his rage. "I can't do it, Bull," he whispers. "I can't bear a fourth child just to watch her sell them into slavery. I can't. I could have another kid for us, for the family, but not..."