The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Nox]

Warm golden arms slip around Shisou from behind and a kiss is pressed to the top of his head. "Yes you did; the both of you did," Nox corrects himself. "You know..." He lets that linger until Zevran obliges him with a question. "Typically, such heroic behavior gets rewarded by the lovely menfolk so saved "

[Shisou]

"D-d-d-d-d-d-oe-es it? Wh-wh-wh-what s-s-s-sort o-o-of r-r-r-ww-w-a-ard d-d-d-did y-y-y-ou h-h-h-have in m-m-m-mind?"

[Nox]

Looking amused, Zevran meets Nox's gaze and a quick, silent discussion takes place. Nodding back at Zevran, Nox smoothly replies to Shisou's question. "Welllllll," he whispers, leaning over so his hair brushes along Shisou's neck. "What do you think about... me fucking you in the ass while Zevran fucks me and you suck Lux's dick?" His tone doesn't change-- smooth, refined, gentle, almost melodic-- despite the abrupt shift in the content and wording.

[Shisou]

Shisou closes his eyes, a wordless whimper of pure longing escaping as he nods three times in rapid succession. Yes! 

[Zevran]

Zevran chuckles softly, amused and delighted by Shisou's reactions. It's been far too long since I've been able to hear such, invoke such, and not fell guilt or bitterness for it. Or worse, not feel anything. Smiling, Zevran stands up, Shisou still wrapped around him. "Is there, ah, a 'fun' room with more suitable furniture or shall we head for one of our chambers?"

[Shisou]

"Th-th-th-th-the a-a-a-a-at-t-t-t-ic." The attic is where the exercise room is; by moving a heavy chest of weights over the trapdoor, they can stop Nathaniel entering despite their building having no locks.

[Nox]

"The attic?" Zevran echoes. 

"Our exercise room, such as it is." Nox shrugs. "Soft mats, a couple of benches and some handles set into a roof beam. Nothing like the one in the main house, but it suits our needs." 

"Huh." That could prove very useful for getting back into fighting trim. But right now... "Let us be off then."

[GamesMaster]

Cedric was supposed to have come back hours ago. Despite Varisia being gone, the lad needs his sleep; what with the baby toddling about and teething, and his sister-selves desiring to spend as much time as possible with her. The more Bull thinks of it, the more he's sure something bad has happened to the Blue Oni. It had been a bit worrying the first time he found Cedric gone at night, but the Blue Oni had explained upon being confronted the next morning, and as the years had gone by, Bull had asked but not yet been allowed to remain by his master's side as he goes about his evening business.

Still... it is almost dawn now. Surely he must be in danger. Surely...

Bull heads out, not sure quite where he's going other than loosely what Cedric was trying to do. Asking about slaves and the Blue Oni gets him to the right part of town: the old marketplace, which was sprung up in the Dwarven quarter beneath the city before it was abandoned for the current open-air market that exists at street level near the city gates. Used to be that the finest goods came from the Dwarven Kingdoms, so they'd showcase them there for the old Masters to enjoy, back before the Revolution. Now they were dark, shadowy places, lit by torchlight even in daytime, and confusing enough to provide some security of business done in the shadows.

The perfect place for a slave market. It only runs on certain nights; how Cedric had deduced the night, Bull isn't sure, but he doesn't have to be. All he has to find the lad, and get him out of whatever trouble he's in. Easy.

Long before he finds any sign of Cedric, the Bull -- loud, whistling, cheery, and huge -- is approached by a terrified young girl, clearly barely pubescent, wearing nothing but a sheet tied up just so. She holds it with one arm, racing headling through the dim streets, eyes the size of dinner plates. When he stops her, asking what the matter is, she's quick to tell him: the Blue Oni got her out but he's trapped now, come quick and help him, please!

He follows where she leads, heading into a doorway and down another level before they arrive at their destination. There's only a half dozen men, but they seem to have caught Cedric, hanging him upside-down and nude above a ritual circle with a bucket under his head. At first he assumes it's in case the spinning lad vomits, but no; one man steadies him, while another holds a wicked-sharp blade and begins to slice, parallel to the skin though not above it. Cedric screams.

Bull doesn't remember the next two minutes nearly as clearly as Jessi does.

At last they get Cedric down, and Jessie finds his clothes, offering them back to the lad. "Thanks," he grunts as he snatches them from her, red in the face.

[The Iron Bull]

Not that the young woman notices, being far, far too busy not vomiting. Again. She's even thinner and certainly shorter than Cedric, though that's not as difficult as it would have been a decade ago, before she'd been put under on a diet regime just as strict but thrice as healthy as what her mother used to enforce. And before she'd given given birth to a daughter. Still, there's no way she hadn't seen his face at some point during all this. Or... or his body. Bull swiftly finishes tugging a bandage around his thigh so he, well, doesn't bleed to death and all, then surges over to Cedric. 

Taking ruthless advantage of Cedric's hands being filled, Bull looms over him. One hand comes out, a single finger touching Cedric's chin so the imisy minotaur can glower at the line of red across his throat. Still not up for words, Bull just rumbles a furious denial of its right to exist.

[Coquette Blacquin]

They didn't hit my windpipe, notes Cedric, absently. They wanted me alive as long as possible, to suffer while they skinned me like an animal. It's an abstract thought, one he can hold apart from himself. The fear, the pain, that's all gone away somewhere (fear pain guilt please don't please love me) where he can't reach it, is numb to it. Already the specifics are blurring, as if he had zoned out during the actual pain and fighting and was only dimly aware of what was happening. 

"Thank you," he says quietly. Despite the numbness and blurriness, one thing is stark as day: he'd be dead if Bull hadn't been here, despite Bull having no reason to be here. 

[The Iron Bull]

Bull rumbles again, the sound almost more feline than mortal or bovine. He hovers over Cedric, eyes firmly locked on the smaller male's own eyes, until the second Cedric has the essential's covered. Then he's yanking Cedric in close, strong arms wrapping around him in an embrace that is enveloping but ill suited for preventing Cedric from slipping away if he wanted to do so. "Heart," he whispers harshly, body quivering with barely restrained emotion. "Can't lose-- Mine."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"I know," he whispers, trembling a little in Bull's embrace. "Thank you. I -- I can never repay you. Either of you."

Finally he pulls back, trying to get free of Bull. "Girl, what's your name?"

[Jessica Alton]

Bull grumbles a little, but lets him step away. Well, let's him go anyway, the imisy minotaur moving along with Cedric so he's hovering just a whisper away from the merikos drow's back. Eyes wide and face a sickly white, the young woman has to try twice before she can muster a response. "J-Jessi. Umm. Sir? I m-mean, Jessica, sir." 

She'd found a clean if threadbare robe next to where she'd found Cedric's clothes, which covers her from neck to floor-- literally, as it's a good foot longer than she is tall-- but it's thin and loose enough that it's clear she's well into developing a mature figure but also that she's been deprived of proper food recently. Not enough to be a serious concern, assuming it doesn't continue, but enough to be noticed easily, in no small part because it's a clear change from her lifestyle prior. She's not dazzling beauty or the like, but she's got good features and the beginnings of a fine build; much of which is likely the result of having had a good, supportive childhood.

[Coquette Blacquin]

He nods. "Do you have somewhere safe to go, Jessica?" 

[Jessica Alton]

The young woman flinches like the words were a slap. She swallows, starts to say something, then breaks into sobs. Deep, ragged sobs that speak just as much about terror as they do grief. She sways, looking dizzy and sick, then sinks to her knees, head bowed as she continues to weep. Bull lets out a whining grunt, protest and demand, as he makes an aborted move to go to Jessica.