Dyra opened her eyes, rubbing her hand over her face. She felt sore in all the right places, and some odd ones too. Bringing her fingers to her neck, she pressed on a sore spot and hissed. When she brought her fingers back to look at them, they weren't bloody. She chuckled at the memory of his impassioned bites.
That really did sum up her little pet artist. He had an infectious passion for life, and jumped into everything with both feet, consequences be damned. He was the definition of being "in the moment." That was nice. It kept her from thinking too much.
She slipped out of her giant bed - her former marital bed, now empty and all for her. Renovations were well underway. She could hear the faroff thuds of magical hammering, which she wished would be a little more quiet. Her hangover was *killing* her.
She shuffled to the bathroom and relieved herself, yawning as she sat on the toilet. With a lazy flick of her hand she magically turned on the tap for the bathtub and levitated some freesia-scented bubble bath into the water. She had no clue if Alarun was back or not after their Orgrimmar drinking excursion and it wasn't her business. She smiled to herself, kicking off her underwear and pulling off her nightgown. Then she sank into the tub, playing with the bubbles as they grew in number into a thick foam.
Alarun. He was admittedly a good lay. And she'd been with many. She thought of him - every inch - and her hand snaked between her legs. No one was here, why not? He hadn't left her *wanting* but he was not here now, and the bath was so *warm*.
She didn't need a cock to be satisfied. It was just icing on the cake.
Besides, now she had one more person who could help her in that department. Speaking of *him*. Perhaps she should reach out to Saviero again. He had a tendency to isolate himself, like her. She should check in on him and perhaps invite him to stay with her, too. After all, the estate was large, and she could start a collection of lovers. *Artist* lovers. Ooh, that thought appealed. A gloomy writer and an effervescent artist. Who else could she add?
Her thoughts dissipated like bubbles in the wind as she leaned her head back and gave in to the sensations of her own hand.
"historically stodgy organization releases completely sincere article embracing the hell out of memes/internet slang" is my absolute favorite modern trope
Xalendyra, when's the last time you saw a whole ass rat?
Dyra laughs abruptly and covers her mouth with her hands. "What?" After a moment she recovers and leans back, eyes sparkling. "I saw one in Murder Row in Silvermoon, as a matter of fact. My walk to my favorite bakery takes me through there. It's the least surprising thing I've found during my walks, trust me." She fishes around in her purse for a plastic-wrapped butterscotch disc and offers it. "Candy?"
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