The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Estelle Emerison]

"You... you really don't like me," she murmurs resignedly. "Well. Oh dear, I've been nattering on, haven't I? Let's get you home so you can rest."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Mutual, I'm sure," she mutters to herself, not expecting to be overheard. 

[Estelle Emerison]

"You think I don't--" Estelle shows surprise, then hurt and then neutral interest. "Why ever do you think that?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

Because you clearly hate me for stealing Claudia and for being too much Noire and not enough Cindy?

"It seemed plain. My apologies."

[Estelle Emerison]

Estelle frowns, then lets it slip with a sigh. "No, you had grounds for it," she confesses wearily. "I think I might well have hated you near the first of this. I certainly resented you. And still do, though less. But I'm too grateful to you for me to hate you." And there's also the guilt. There's always the guilt it seems.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"...grateful?"

[Estelle Emerison]

"You make her happier," she says simply.

[Coquette Blacquin]

I make--

Cindy's breath catches in her throat, the tears threatening to start again. Instead she shakes her head just a touch, and, leaning on Estelle's arm, begins to head towards the door. 

[GamesMaster]

Obidiah -- called Obi -- has been lurking around trying to be of service for weeks, and being underutilized in the meantime. So he's taken it upon himself to do more than he's asked: buying things for the household, cleaning, delivering messages instead of paying for a messenger. Today, he and Zevran are purchasing groceries at the market, when Zevran hears a soft mewling sound coming from behind a stall. 

[Zevran]

Three very different sides of Zevran react seamlessly. The assassin skims his eyes over the area, starting with the direction opposite the sound even as he strains his ears and instincts to cover everywhere else. The lover fixates on the sound, determining if it's animal or mortal, if it's pain or pleasure. The slave fights to lower his had, hunch his shoulders, scurry away from whatever attention-seeking mystery is happening, but is yet again overruled and pushed down. 

[GamesMaster]

The lover determines it is mortal, and not a pleased sound. Obi seems to take no notice, stopping at a stall to examine some carrots. There is a small crowd, but nothing Zevran sees as a threat. 

[Zevran]

Moving slow and natural, Zevran drifts towards the source of the sound. He idly casts his gaze over the other produce on offer, inwardly disinterested but it makes a good cover.

[GamesMaster]

He spots her before too long: a young female merikos, laying on a mat made of cheap cloth, bleeding and whimpering. Her fellows are pointedly ignoring her, conducting business out of the stall as though she weren't there.

[Zevran]

A soft hiss slips from the merikos drow at the sight. Trap? Possibly... but... Sighing, he moves to the edge of the matt and squats. "Hello miss," he says softly.

[GamesMaster]

She pulls back, whimpering. 

"Don't touch that," says the shopkeep as she re-balances a display. "It's dirty. Just a bit of cast-off refuse."