Posted on: Wednesday, 04 February 2009
The evening had started out slow, but now a steady flow of patrons trickled in and out of the Copperpint tavern's doors. The staff bustled about at a frantic pace, taking and filling orders as fast as humanly possible. Most of the tables were already full and dusk had barely fallen. It was going to be a busy evening.
Kharinlashelli sat at her usual seat, leaning her chair back on its hind legs and resting her boots on the edge of the table. She was stretched out relaxedly, one pale hand resting around a mug of warm spiced rum. Her vivid red hair was worn loose tonight, falling in waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes were half-closed. Although normally the bard was never found without the friendly smile and easy laugh that was her trademark, tonight she was unusually quiet.
Galdor and Ilstiris also shared the table. The elven man was dressed in his characteristic dark breeches and vest, while the sorceress was clad in a ravishing red one-piece dress which accentuated her ivory skin and raven hair. She was shy as a shadow, that one, but for whatever reason she'd been flirting with Kharin for several days now, and gone increasingly far in seeking the bard's attention. The dress was new, doubtlessly purchased from the Temple of Sune — no other place in Athkatla would carry such a bold and suggestive design. It was sleeveless, with a heart-shaped bodice that cupped and lifted the woman's breasts. The cloth was sheer and satiny, hugging her waist and falling all the way to the floor. Two slits were cut up either side from ankle almost to hip, revealing the half-elf's pale thighs whenever she walked. Or sat. Or stood. Or moved.
It'd definitely gotten Kharin's attention.
Galdor was talking about something, but Kharin had been only half-listening for the last fifteen minutes. Ilstiris was sipping a glass of wine, alert green eyes darting over to the bard now and then, sharing a smile or a laugh. If she knew just how much of Kharin's attention she'd gotten... The red-head let out a slow, steady breath. That dress was driving her mad. It'd been a long time since she'd had a lover, and longer since she'd had a woman. How could she be so shy yet so blatant? The whole point of such an outfit was to entice someone to remove it — and yet she wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if Ilstiris was a virgin.
Kharin lifted the mug to her lips and slowly drained the rest of the rum. The warm tingle slid down her throat and pooled pleasantly in her stomach. The rest of her body already had a slight sensation of warmth, and the rum only increased it. A waitress came over to offer her a refill, and Kharin accepted it absentmindedly. This would be her third rum of the evening, and probably not a wise idea.
Ilstiris laughed at one of Galdor's quips, smoothing her dark waves back from her face and smiling happily. The gentle motion of her chest immediately drew Kharin's attention. Gods damn that dress.
She drained a quarter of her rum in a single drink and stood up. 'Wise' and 'Kharin' weren't words commonly found together — especially not when she was drinking.
