Tweet
He was a man who thought very highly of himself, this gold haired bard, and she had no problem with this so long as he held her higher. For her epic, ageless beauty, for the gifts and power she could bestow, it was only right. Many men had coveted her over the centuries, including that damnable Kensaitsumaru, but this one held her now; this one held her now, and she suspected she would enjoy the time immensely.
For over a decade she had resided in the cold, dirty bowels of the Citadel, unable to shine and bless the world with her radiant beauty. She waited amongst worthless, tarnished baubles that were beneath her. But all of that changed when she was gifted to the Banite for his efforts in liberating the Ill'Koresh's son.
She should have told him to cut the witch down for her transgressions, for she dared to use her unclean magic to transplant her from that musty vault to a soiled floor. The disrespect of touching the ground! And, to her horror, she was not bestowed with two hands, as was the customary gift-giving posture, but rather left there for him to retrieve. Still, she would do nothing to jeopardize the bliss of freedom. Her honor would be restored, but only at the appropriate time.
He had taken her from that place of cold stone and dead wood, grasping her firmly in his masculine hands. She deserved to be held like this, embraced and cherished and worshipped. It is true that she is not what he expected, but she would be so much more.
She chose not to speak to him that night, but instead watched him carry out his business. When all was said and done he took her to bed with him, and as twilight came and slumber over took the bard she examined all he was. Even in his sleep, there was a confidence about him. He rested shirtless, and she could not question his beauty, though it did not compare to her elegance.
When morning came, he awoke surprised to find her next to him. No matter: he would soon learn that she desired to be touched, and always, ever close.
For over a decade she had resided in the cold, dirty bowels of the Citadel, unable to shine and bless the world with her radiant beauty. She waited amongst worthless, tarnished baubles that were beneath her. But all of that changed when she was gifted to the Banite for his efforts in liberating the Ill'Koresh's son.
She should have told him to cut the witch down for her transgressions, for she dared to use her unclean magic to transplant her from that musty vault to a soiled floor. The disrespect of touching the ground! And, to her horror, she was not bestowed with two hands, as was the customary gift-giving posture, but rather left there for him to retrieve. Still, she would do nothing to jeopardize the bliss of freedom. Her honor would be restored, but only at the appropriate time.
He had taken her from that place of cold stone and dead wood, grasping her firmly in his masculine hands. She deserved to be held like this, embraced and cherished and worshipped. It is true that she is not what he expected, but she would be so much more.
She chose not to speak to him that night, but instead watched him carry out his business. When all was said and done he took her to bed with him, and as twilight came and slumber over took the bard she examined all he was. Even in his sleep, there was a confidence about him. He rested shirtless, and she could not question his beauty, though it did not compare to her elegance.
When morning came, he awoke surprised to find her next to him. No matter: he would soon learn that she desired to be touched, and always, ever close.
Comment