The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

Reaching up as if to scratch her head, Coquette uses her lightning reflexes to pull a straight pin from her hair and thrust it directly into Paerie's left nipple. She then moves again, back to where she had been a moment prior, in an attempt to circumvent the woman while she's in pain. 

[NPCs]

Paerle manages to twist to the side at the very last instant, causing the pin to scrape across her areola and down the curve of her breast instead of puncturing deeply. Not that this is really better, even if it will probably heal sooner and cleaner. Regardless, the pain of it is enough to prevent the drow from connecting with her instinctive return strike, a very good thing based on the eerie green metal the wavy-bladed dagger is made from. Strangely silent, Paerle pivots and skips back, keeping herself facing Coquette but moving out of immediate arm's reach. The move also places her in Coquette's way againn, though poorly so.

That incongruity, plus the way that Paerle's eyes stay on her and yet her gaze seems too broad, too aware of the space and shadows behind her, causes the skin between Cedric's shoulder blades to itch as if already healing from the knife wound he anticipates there.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Thankful she insisted on a thigh-high slit, Noire drops to a squat as Cedric takes over, spinning to trip the unseen attacker. They're not as good with a hairpin as Zevran would be, but it's similar enough to a dagger that they've practiced with it for just this sort of emergency. 

[NPCs]

And his leg impacts the raised knee of his opponent, a merikos gnome clad in dark leathers and wielding another green dagger, this one with a crooked hook for the point. The block keeps the male upright, but the difference in mass is such that he's knocked back several feet. Running on a heady blend of instinct and hard earned experience, Cedric skips back and left, eyes flicking to the flask of murky blue fluid whiz through the air where he'd been standing a split second ago. The merikos gnome's eyes widen with alarm and he twists in place, body melting into shadows in a manner markedly distinct from how Silver used to do. A stirring in the otherwise still underground air prompts Cedric to look to the side just in time to see the merikos gnome settle into a lunge stance.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Too exposed. Don't be where they expect you. Cedric twists, reaching for the shadows here, finding they come just a little easier to his call, as if they were already loosened and expecting to be used. Then he is gone, just for a second or two, coming out behind Pearie. For good measure, he kicks at her butt, pushing her towards her allies, then sprints for the door to the Matriarch's room. 

[NPCs]

"Wha--" Paerle's snarled query cuts off with an undignified yelp as she goes sprawling. The delay costs Cedric however, as it allows the merikos gnome to close the distance enough that he can almost feel the merikos gnome's breath on his back. Cedric manages to rap twice on the door before having to spin around and block a knife strike with his hairpin. He manages the parry, but at the cost of the hairpin. Better to discover that the blade is coated or enchanted with acid by having his hairpin slagged than his flesh however. Still, this means he's forced to dodge instead of parry, causing him to be forced away from the door. A few yards away, Paerle pushes herself to her feet, fumbling at the neckline of her dress.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Time to go. Cedric slips into the shadows again, blurring the sight of him from others, and then appears behind the gnome, leaning in to whisper "Boo" in their ear. As he does so, he taps into his full-on terror effect, his visage twisting into a cruel snarl approximate to his mask. The gnome gives a scream, scrambling away into the corner in terror with wide eyes.

[NPCs]

"You degenerate horse," Paerle snarls, nearly maddened with rage. She'd gotten the edges of that menacing appearance, but thanks to a combination of narcissistic entitlement and alchemical drugs, those stirrings of fear were transmuted into fury. Just as damaging to her combat ability, but basically the reverse reaction. Finding a vial, she sneers, then hurls it. But not at Cedric; instead, the vial hits the merikos gnome and shatters. A thick, orange gel splatters over his shoulder and face and quickly starts to bubble and give off a brownish mist. 

"Rip her apart!"

With a wet, coughing growl, the merikos gnome rushes at Coquette. His eyes are crimson, blood streaming from the edges, and his cheeks are peeling apart to reveal a mouth more suited to a dire shark. The hand closer to the contaminated shoulder is writhing and spasming as the bones burst from the skin in barbed points. He makes it half way to Coquette when a hazy black aura surround him. A heartbeat later, a too small pile of gory mush and crumbling bones smears across the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

Coquette turns, instantly lowering into a deep curtsey. "Grandmother. These two were attempting to prevent me from attending your brunch."

[NPCs]

Her curtsy deepens even more as a weightless pressure pushes her onto all fours, relentless but not painful. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Paerle in a similar position, though she'd not gotten her right hand out fast enough and is instead resting on hand and elbow. 

Matriarch Feythal doesn't move from the doorway, her face partially covered by a mask, only her mouth and chin visible. From the neckdown, she's wearing leather and silk; a sleeveless leather vest that goes to mid-thigh, no pants, a flowing silk robe and silk ribbons decorating her arms and legs. Despite the signs of her age, she's still sharply attractive. Dry, worn skin that still looks smooth and taunt over lean muscles, a frailness to her bones that is belied by the power dwelling inside her. Time has touched her, worn and aged her a great deal, but it's not diminished her in any way that truly matters. She's holding a small skull in one hand, caked in long-dried blood, that Coquette is fairly certain came from an elven or drow infant. That same hand is dripping a yellow necrotic energy, though it's clearly not harmful to her.  

She looks at Coquette as the young woman speaks, then shifts her gaze to her granddaughter. "I merely asked her a question, Grandmother," she protests. "When she refused, I insisted and then she attempted to kill me in cold blood!"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Unless your brain's in your tit, that was no killing blow," growls Coquette. "You spoke to me with disrespect and I answered you with the same. You physically blocked me from my destination so I punished you for your rudeness to my Grandmother."

[NPCs]

"I spoke with every bit of respect due to you," Paerle snarls, trying to lift her head to glare but failing against her Matriarch's magic. "You were acting suspicious so I moved to prevent harm to my Grandmother."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"You were present when I was commanded to appear. If you heard nothing of what was said around you, that is hardly my problem."

[NPCs]

"I am aware of the Matriarch's order," Paerle hisses nastily. "You come from nowhere, married to an assassin, and then, when moving to speak with my beloved grandmother and the heart, mind and will of our Familia, you carried a hidden weapon and a killer's walk."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"You call yourself Drow and you expect me to believe you're not a killer?" She gives a low, dark chuckle. "You admit such worthlessness before our Grandmother?"