Om's digits punched into the stone with ease, iron-hard fingers digging into giving stone like a shovel into clay, leaving clear indictation of her path as she wound her way up the wall. It only took a few seconds, and she was gone over the side, towering over poor Soot.
So this was the girl who humiliated me. Thought Om to herself as she stared down at the gal, looking up at her with her resigned, steely gaze. She was so small compared to the Host's true form of towering iron and gold, so small and obviously totally freaking out? It was like a bear holding a grudge against a sparrow. Just looking at her made Om feel ridiculous. It made her entire outrage feel ridiculous. Why did she care what these people thought of her, anyway!? Had she softened so much under Merov Ekh's yoke?
"...Okay, nevermind. This is dumb." Om said despairingly, putting her hands to her head for a moment, rubbing her temples as steam snort out of her nose. Her long ears twitched--was the thief queen coming after her? Om turned to face her, reaching out with an arm blindly, looking to grab Soot and hoist her into the air with one arm, another of her four hoisting up Ill-Omened Star.
"How'd you even become an insurgent, anyway?" She asked Soot, not honestly expecting an answer.
“As bad as who? You hav-!?” The woman took something hard to the side of the face, faltering slightly before the world was engulfed in violet and quicksilver smoke. Coughing and trying to catch her breath from the attempted swordplay, she readied her blade… Just in time to have her body flood with heat. She fell back, trying to drop onto one knee and instead falling flat on her ass, curling onto her side as sweat began to drip from her skin. Her makeup had not been fully sealed yet, so she started to look as messy as she felt, every breath like lightning, every twitch of her shivering body making her want more of this feeling. That giggling burned into her head and she turned to face it through the haze of simmering feeling and smoke.
“Y-You… Are interfering with… Business…” She panted out, curling up more on the ground as each breath and shiver forced more jolts of feeling up and down her spine. Damn it, what was she hit with? Why couldn’t she fully think? Wha… What was happening?
Birsi will take this effect from stagger, as it fits best currently in my eyes. “Hesitate or stumble and the opposition gains an opportunity.”
Silsila could hardly believe her eyes. Was the Thief-Queen, Terror of the Night, Spark of Rebellion which the palace so dearly desired quashed, seriously waiting for them? A sensation of indignation bloomed in her chest. Seriously? Really and truly? Had people forgotten the 40 day rampage on the edge of town? Was she so domesticated that house guards and thieves felt bold enough to waltz up to her and challenge her? Did people think she was so weak?
A shivering thrill ran up her spine as she stepped forward, hands still on her sword, eyes glowing bright, counting on her alien countenance to hide the jitters she was she getting--fear, indignation, anger. "Bowlyn, Thief Queen." She snapped, voice sharper and harsher than she would like. Everything was sharper and harsher then she would like. "I don't get why you think challenging me--us--alone, just outside the place where you're safe, is a good idea. You probably don't understand who I am, do you?" With a flourish, she drew her blade, pointing it in the thief's direction. "My name is Sils--"
And then a big, heavy net felt out of absolutely nowhere and took her down onto her face.
...and then a can of sparkly paint landed on her right after, coating her in sparkly shit.
It was funny, honestly. Big, imposing lady, trying so hard, trying to be a good Fire Wheel and a good Guard-Helper one minute, indistinct lump of squirming host the next, vaguely sparkling in the lamp light. Could you blame the Giggling Rat for letting out a sharp, snorting snigger then? An audible, keening cackle? Laughing at her?
This hurt her worse then losing to Birsi. The other Fire Wheels had just been disappointed in her. Now her enemies were giggling at her.
Talismans and spells written on her flesh began to spark and steam, glowing red and hot. Steam poured off her body, spreading out around her as the writhing bulge on the ground got bigger, and bigger, and bigger. The chemical stink of ozone and reacting iron filled the air, before giving way to a deep, thick, almost eye-watering musk.
The net split in two as Om stood back up.
SilsilaOm
Four arms. Eight feet tall. Hair down to her ankles. Biceps the size of a ripe watermelon. Golden teeth and glowing eyes. Unfortunately still covered in that stupid paint.
Om looked up the side of the building where the net had come down. "Okay." She said, before punching her fists into the wall (making a terrific racket) and scaling the side of it like some sort of giant, freaky ape-spider, heading straight towards Soot!
I'm activating a lot of abilities in this post, so buckle up!
First of all, I'm going to Stagger from getting laughed at by the Giggling Rat. I'm going to mark 2 Conditions: Angry and Insecure.
Second, I'm going to Transform. I'm going to clear a condition--my Afraid one--and choose to move in ways no normal person could.
Third, I'm activating Big Dyke Energy and making sure everyone knows I'm the most dangerous girl around!
Birsi Their quarry? So soon? Surely this must be some kind of trap. Rouse be damned, she needed to fight like herself if they were to apprehend their foe, and as such she would. Brandishing her blade in a very un-Fire Wheel Manner, she would straighten her stance, ready her sword, and… Okay, Silsila was just netted and had paint dropped on her head. Alright, that should be… Oh my. Birsi had not seen a Host transform like this, usually they just gained one minor change across their whole form, like turning a bright shade of red instead of their usual tan, but… Oh goodness she was large. But not in charge, as Birsi was the superior officer here.
“Alright Om, let us apprehend her with-” Birsi’s words trailed off as her teammate for the mission shot up the wall and left her on the ground. Alone… Okay then. “That was not part of the plan, Silsila!” She shouted up after her before returning her gaze back to the Thief Queen. “Very well, I shall face you head on. En Garde!” She would lunge forward with her blade to clash, and find that… Well, her stupid Fire Wheel attire had gotten caught on something, causing her foot to stumble into the broken half of the net on the ground, step in some paint, and then finally stagger over to her foe for a clash of blades. She barely managed to force her foe back and take a few stabs at her attire to try and frighten her, show that she was meaning business… Though Birsi sure was embarrassed by this entire maneuver of hers… She was getting a bit red in the face.
Rolled to fight, got a total of 3… So I am using ‘For the Cause!’ to take a condition (Embarrassed from TSL Advanced Lovers and Lesbians, does the same as Insecure) to inflict a condition (Afraid). Hopefully she actually is scared, but I can see other conditions being applied instead of Afraid.
Silsila marveled at how one nominally competent--hell, she knew Birsi was competent, she had fought her herself--woman could wind up compromised, badly, three times in a mere half day. It was like she was cursed to run afoul of hot, malignant ladies who wanted to change her whole style and wrap her around their fingers.
Was it strictly necessary to have Birsi on her lap to apply makeup? Not quite. Did she need to personally bend her over the sink to add those bright red dyes to herr hair? No. Did she have to whisper into her ear, "Stop wriggling or I'll wrap you in so much silk I'll have to carry you to the 78 Heavens myself, with everyone staring and trying to decide if I'm carrying a girl or a carpet. Your fat ass will give it away, obviously, but it will take them a minute." Absolutely not. But something about Birsi just seemed to invite it--not even to mention how pleasant it was to put one over the guard. It felt like a comfortable reset of their relationship.
Silsila strode through the streets like a queen on promenade. The Fire Wheels' nightly rampages were barely challenged, least of all Om--if enterprising citizens were fed up with the drunken looting and flagrant harassment, the infamous attack dog of the brutes did not a desirable target make. Hurled insults were silenced with Silsila looking in the noise's direction with a stormy expression of dismissive ire--any citizen brave enough to say something else when the infamous host's burning eyes was on them were practically Fire Wheel material anyway.
...But now they were on the edge of the 78 Heavens, uncharted territory, the roughest part of town when the Fire Wheels weren't messing up the equation, and Silsila found herself slowing down. That thrill of nervousness ran up her spine, fingers dancing worryingly at the hilt of her sword. If someone picked a real fight with her, was she going to be ready? She had been completely off balance since her clash with Birsi earlier today, and wasn't sure she trusted her sword arm.
"If we stomp up through Cart Street, everyone and their mothers will see us coming." She said after a few moment's hesitation. "And the gatekeepers will need to make a show of being tough on us. Can't just let in Fire Wheels without at least pretending to put up a fight. I know a side path--its just a little hole in the circus wall. There will be one or two watchmen, tops, and hardly any crowd. Let's try that and squeeze inside."
Birsi
Well then, that whisper certainly got her to stop struggling during the makeover process, a not so faint red crossing her face as she tried to pass it off as just being insulted. It didn’t work on anyone, but Birsi continued to fool herself anyways. She was silent as one of the Alsamt, the slave girls who prided themselves on being so heavily gagged and padded that they didn’t make a sound. However, Birsi told herself that things would be different on the mission, she would be in control once more.
Okay so she was not in control in the slightest, and she was 90% sure she was barely acting like a Fire Wheel. Every fiber of her body was fighting her urge to be respectful, proper, and most importantly… Properly dressed. She felt exposed in her outfit, having to every now and then run a hand across her bare arms to simulate the feeling of having something covering them. Her eyes kept darting over to Silsila for subconscious tips on how to improve her ‘performance’ as a Fire Wheel, and her best attempt at being one got her insulted so heavily that she just awkwardly stayed close to Om until they arrived at the 78 Heavens, the guardswoman swallowing nervously as she listened to the Host. “I see- I mean, Just Great…” She forcibly hardened her tone in a rough manner, sounding less like a steel edged tone and more along the lines of jagged rock. “So let’s go through that place, come on then.” Goodness this was so difficult to maintain…
This is a direct order from her direct superior, there is no way she cannot ignore it… However, she must act and dress like one of… One of… The thought made her brain grind to a halt, just staring at the clothing on the table with an expression that practically screamed “There is no thought behind these eyes, send help” all over her face. On one hand, this was Hai Lin, the person she trusted the most, whom she did everything for, and would do every command for due to mutual respect and gratitude. She was also making a very smart and strategic play, using the Host as a better way to blend in and handle this issue in the city itself, and this proved that she did in fact have trust and faith in Birsi.
On the other hand, Birsi was having to disguise herself as a Fire Wheel, the antithesis to everything she is. Unruly, Practically Savage Brutes who cared little to nothing for the law and order of this holy city. That, and their attire was so… Revealing… Birsi couldn’t act like a borderline uncivilized barbarian, she was nice and orderly, and this would require her to be completely the opposite of everything she is. That, and she knew little of the dangers outside of the Palace, though she did have vague ideas based on experience and gossip from around the place, but those were only small talks or excursions with the Vizier and/or her servants, not being out and about with only a Fire Wheel.
“Very well. The mind of a Fire Wheel is a dangerous thing, but since no one else is up for this task, I shall accept this mission and the dangers that come with it.” She stated with a gloved hand going over her chest, clenching tightly into a fist that grabbed at her uniform. However, the moment she turned to look at her companion for this mission… It was clear that she was a bit frazzled by the mere concept of being anything like a Fire Wheel. Have Fun, Silsila Om~
Silsila Om
Silsila knew of Strategist Hai Lin, of course. She was a frequent subject of Fire Wheel toasts, boasts, claims and story. She was nothing like the other's said she was, which was expected; Most other Fire Wheels were total dummies.
Still, that carefully placid face irked her. At least the Fire Wheels made it obvious they saw her as somewhere between siege equipment and toy. With her, it was impossible. Annoying. Silsila decided to probe at her, just a little.
"That thief queen, huh?" She said, in the drawling accent of the Fire Wheels she had picked up on. She stood with her arms folded, in a way which made her already huge, gold banded biceps look even bigger. "Bowlyn's pretty dangerous, y'know. I woulda thought you'd like her messing with Merov, not send your best girl on the job." She makes a stunted head motion at Birsi. "...Anyway, I must admit Birsi is good with her sword" (high praise from Silsila) "but she doesn't have the temperament for street fightin'. You should just have me do the heavy lifting, and let her stick back and watch. That way she's safe and sound and you got a badass yet expendable host working on the issue. Pretty clean, right?"
If and when they would move to the dressing up phase--honestly, the makeup was the most important part. The shimmering green would be smudged off her lips in exchange for a golden orange. Red paint which would flicker like flame in the lamplight of the streets, as anonymous as any veil. Baggy, cool pants and a shirt with no sleeves ("You're gonna get to show off those biceps of yours, Birsi, so quit squirming!"). Silsila spent a long time fussing with the tassels and trophies--"Now why the hell would she have the Eye of the Wheel AND the Eye of Dneej, you can't just mix and match eyes like that"--but after maybe a half hour, Birsi is the perfect little barbarian. Maybe a little short, but with a scowl and the right light, polite Birsi would look as savage as the rest of them.
Those words did surprise her, and she assumed a puzzled look and put a hand to her chin, having relaxed quite a bit post fight. “I believe I had made it obvious? Never fully blocked you, that is the easiest way to get thrown backwards by your swings. I guided your strikes elsewhere to minimize their impact on me and allow for us to be on equal ground. Plus, my arms are not reeds. Feel for yourself.” She flexed her arm a bit to let the host feel it.
The soft yet durable fabric of her sleeve clung to her tensed arm, highlighting that for a normal person who wasn’t in the Fire Wheels, Birsi had some bulk in those arms of hers. The guardswoman had to be well trained, not just in code and order, but in body and mind as well. Her strength was real, as was her grace and speed. Birsi seemed to be good at everything besides handling Fire Wheels in normal everyday encounters… That thought in Birsi’s head reminded her of the first day she encountered the Fire Wheels in the palace halls, the shudder at her memory being quite visible, but could also just be mistaken as a shudder due to having her arm felt up.
Silsila Om
Silsila makes a mental note to figure out a way to kick guard's asses evn if they did have some fancy sword fighting tricks under their belts. She makes a secondary note to focus more on winning fights and less on flirting hard with her opponent when fighting has such high stakes. What has she been doing lately, anyway? Just a fugue state of love and lust! She needs to focus up...
She does totally feel her bicep up on the way, though. Nice.
Birsi had her foe in a blade lock, focused entirely on beating her, but now there was a seed of doubt, not in her abilities, but on what to do next. She could twist the hilt, disarm the Host, and bring in a total of Four Firewheels, or accept the Host’s Offer and… And… Confound it all!
The Guardswoman gripped her sword tightly, and with a small roar of exertion, forced the blade from her opponents hands, forcing it to clatter against the ground. While her foe expected there to be a sword point at her neck, no doubt closing her eyes in preparation, she would instead hear the result… A sword gliding back into its sheath, and a somewhat frustrated huff from the smaller woman.
Sweat dripped from her brow, her own this time, and she took a moment to draw a handkerchief from her breast pocket to pat away the sweat and remove the lipstick that had been forcibly applied to her lips before returning her gaze to the Host. “Your ‘girls’ will never set foot in The Room of the Manifold Stars, drunk or sober, and you will accompany me to my Direct Superior. Then you shall accompany me tonight. Are we clear?” The guardswoman would then go to fetch Silsila’s sword, and… Oh man this was so much heavier than she expected.
Birsi will accept that XP and give Silsila Om a String. Take your date with the stiff board of a guardswoman. :)
Silsila Om
For those unfamiliar with the Host (which, to be fair, was nearly everyone) Om's demeanor hardly shifted at all. Only she knew the huge ripple of relief which ran through her body. Birsi had moves, when she wasn't letting herself get pinned to the walls by rapscallions.
"Deal." Om said, quick enough that Birsi might squint at her. She and the Vo siblings knew Om really had no control over them, and that being technically banned from the room would only make it more attractive. Let them do it just to spite Birsi, reasoned Om. Just get caught away from the host and eat the punishment on their own.
Om tried to play it cool for all of 15 seconds after picking up the sword and walking out with Birsi, before bursting out. "How the hell were you blocking me with your little reed arms? I should have knocked you flat on your ass a half dozen times during that duel!" Anxiety was plain on her face. Had Birsi ever spared Om a passing thought before beyond "The big hot host that the Fire Wheels have"? The anxious frustration with which she hissed those words out might have taken her by surprise...
Birsi wouldn’t be phased by such a thing as lipstick being applied in the corner of her vision, for she was a Royal Guard. She’d have seen plenty of makeup applied in the corners of her vision as she patrolled around, either from higher ups wanting to look proper or slave girls getting prettied up for their owners. No, her focus was entirely on the Host in front of her. Every swing she made was met with Birsi’s combat tact…
No blow was blocked head on, for that is the first mistake people make when fighting Hosts. Attempting to block and take the full force of their attacks is asking to lose balance or be sent flying, whether backwards or to the ground is based on the swing intercepted. No, Birsi would treat each attack like a raging river, and focus on deflecting and redirecting her strikes if she couldn’t outright dodge them.
Now that her opponent had finished her go of attacks, it was Birsi’s turn. With a twirl of her blade, the shorter woman would slice and jab at the weaker parts of her opponent’s material body and her attire. A not severe but very distracting jab to the side, a bit of her top piece being shredded by a straight edged sword, and a light peppering of stabs directed at her foes feet to make her dance. Silsila might be a Crashing Mountain, but Birsi was a Whirlwind of Steel.
“I expected much more from you Silsila. After all, you caused so much trouble in the past. Maybe all that bragging Merov Ekh did about catching you were lies? Or has being here so long weakened that fighting spirit of yours? Do your legs shiver at the sight of tight leather? Perhaps we shall see…” With that idea put into her opponent's head, Birsi kept up the momentum, forcing her larger opponent on the backfoot of the duel.
Rolled a 13 for the fight, and I would like to do the following: Get a String through her “vague” hints at binding her (The statement of “Do your legs shiver at the sight of tight leather”), inflict a condition, specifically Nervous (does the same as frightened, under the Advanced Lovers & Lesbians thing), and seize a superior position.
Silsila Om
"Shut up, girls." Om said, snorting hot steam from her nose. Om was frustrated. Birsi was being frustrating! Here Om was, basically offering the world to her, going easy on her, and she didn't even notice. She was so pig-headed, ugh! What's worse, the words of her peanut gallery made a pit in Silsila's stomach open up. If the Vo twins and Little Miss Drank-Too-Much were dragged off to the slave quarters, she really would be in big trouble. What's more, her body was getting cut and scratched up and marred--it was a stinging blow to her pride.
Still, that was later, and this was now. Birsi had still piqued Om's interest. If being complimentary--even in her clumsy, brutish, backhanded way--wasn't going to work, she'd just need to be more direct. Luckily, more direct was something she was very good at.
The next time their swords clashed, Om stepped in and grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her in. Mwah! Om's lips gold lips pressed into her green ones--fast, hard, and quick. When they pulled back, could Birsi even be sure what had just happened?
The fight continued on for a few seconds more sword strokes, more of Birsi's slicing and cutting and slashing, more of Om being peeled away, when Om found another opening--and the girl would receive a sharp spank to her already sore rear end, setting it jiggling just in time for another offensive barrage from Om. A flick to her bust, another kiss, and Om almost had her pinned to the wall, before she managed to dance away.
...It was really all she could to keep up the pressure. Om wasn't doing well, and she knew it. She fervently hoped the Vo siblings didn't realize just how much getting poked and jabbed hurt, that they couldn't recognize a host taking damage, that they would just hoot and hollar and laugh as the Royal Guard was manhandled even as she kicked ass. Om also hoped that this worked--from what she knew of Birsi, the girl would find all this very distracting--hopefully distracting enough to not be so laser-focused on defeating her!
A few more strikes, and Om made her final play. "Y'know, this is pretty dumb." She'd say, almost too casually, her strikes relenting as she stepped back slightly. "We're basically on the same team already, right? And we're both going out tonight, one way or another. Tell you what--you forget about dragging my girls out here to the slave palace, or whatever, and I'll give you backup tonight instead of running my usual route. I can guarantee you'll get a lot more down with me on your back instead of whatever backup your boss was gonna send you. Get a lot more work done!"
Woofh, pretty rough for Om! I didn't expect her to get the worse hand in a swordfight. C'mon, Om, you're better than that!
...She's not really focusing on the sword fighting part, though, since I rolled for Entice this round. I also have a string from the one option I got to pick from Birsi's 10+ on her roll. We'll see if she lets me take another string...
...and I'm spending that string I did have to make an offer to her. +1 XP if she lets the Fire Wheels go, in exchange for me going out with her tonight.
As the barbarians were scooped up and squeezed, it was highly unlikely that they didn’t loosen their grip on Birsi’s belt, causing her to drop to the ground with a restrained grunt. The guardswoman would shift and squirm to get into a sitting position, then take a moment longer to get into a standing position, just in time to get confirmation that Silsila would be accepting her challenge and get her wrist bindings off. “Thank you…”
Then came her demands, which she was more than allowed to make. After all, Birsi was the one who challenged her to the duel, so by law and tradition the brute’s conditions were acceptable. Of course, such demands would be entirely more than humiliating for her should she lose this bout, but she had to at least try to fight. This was for the Honor of the Palace, the Holiness of the room they invaded, and her own Devotion to keeping the peace through Holy Law.
“Very well. Your demands shall be fulfilled should you win. Now, brace yourself.” The Royal Guard would retrieve the sword the drunken Fire Wheels had taken, brandishing the straight blade with an appropriate duelist’s stance. “En Guarde!” There it was. That weird phrase she learned from a foreigner when she was but a child. The phrase that stuck with her all this way to be the one thing she says before a conflict… But as per the rules of the duel, the Challenged gets to go first, so all Birsi did was assume a proper, defensive stance.
Silsila Om
Silsila drew her sword--Ill-Omened Star, ebon black metal with gold edged. "Let's see how refined your technique is, then. Will it last more than a sword stroke against my Crashing Mountain style~?"
Swing! Chop! Slash! Cut!
Surprisingly… yes. Yes, it did.
Om planted her foot and swung ber blade, flat-side forward, only for it to be ducked yet again. She wasn't slow--so how did Birsi keep dodging her? One solid blow to her blade should have blown it clear out of Birsi's hand, but the woman kept dancing around Om's strikes, leaving her sword clashing and clattering into the stone.
Om slowed down, chest heaving, little rivulets of sweat running down her form. Birsi had never held her off like this–their hallway affairs had usually been quick and dirty. And here Silsila was sweating!
"What is with today and not winning easily?" Om complains, directed as an aside to the Vo siblings. "I thought you were ornamental, Birsi, but I guess you're good for more than just your smoking hot body." The Host rests her blade on her shoulder for a moment.
…her eyes keep flicking down to Birsi's body. Stupid! SHE should be the one drawing looks and forcing distractions, not this prim guard. Her strikes become slower and gentler, the incredible strength behind them softening just a little bit--was Silsila going easy on her…?
Cheeks flushed red, lips painted a deep jade green, and her hair ruffled out of position due to the brief and very one sided scuffle she was just a part of, Birsi did not look like she was going to actually handle these three Fire Wheels in a manner she could condone… But just as she was considering fouler tactics to uphold the peace and order within this holy place, a chance to change her fate appeared. Someone she knew, recognized, and had handled on a few occasions… As well as ‘been handled’ in turn by.
“Silsila Om.” The Guardswoman said with only a hint of disdain, despite her current predicament making her look absolutely ridiculous in appearance. After all, she was being held up by her belt and had only one glove on, the other no doubt in another Fire Wheel’s hand, dripping with her own spittle. “I believe these are your ‘Subordinantes’ for the time being?” She queried, no doubt earning an accidental/offhanded spank that made her seize for a second before resuming her speech. “I would like for you to make them cease their current actions, prepare themselves for transport down to the Slaving Quarters, and release me from this current predicament. However.” She took a deep breath, then focused her gaze into a glare of authority, of Challenge. “I, Royal Guard Birsi, challenge you to a duel for these actions to be done.” Hopefully Silsila accepted, as currently it wasn’t even like Birsi herself was much of a threat. After all, her sword was taken, her hands were cuffed, and clearly one of these other barbarians had smothered her face, judging by the hue of it. Would Silsila Om accept this odd challenge?
Silisila Om
Om let her arms rest behind her head, her eyes flickering from Mele Vo to Emissa Vo to Birsi, back to Mele, then back to Birsi in a double-take, drinking in her appearance. "Wow, you two really did a number on Birse, didn't you?" Her arms wrapped around the duo, pulling them in snug on either side of her, and then she squeezed, forcing both bad girls to squeak from the force of those muscular arms around them, crushed tight to her body, lifted up off their feet! "I know we like to mess with her, but she is still Royal Guard. You two sure you can actually get away with this?"
Then those long ears of hers caught wind of Birsi's challenge, her golden eyes darting her way once again. "What, the Vo's? My subordinates?" She said, sounding amused--even as her fingers closed around the two gal's unprotected derriere's, making them squeak and squirm into Om's body, faces both mashed into the Host's underarms. "Well, I'd like to think so, but they really aren't." She's grinning widely, though. "I suppose I could carry them over to Slaving Quarters for you, though."
Om opens her arms and drops them both to the ground, cracking her neck. "...If you beat me, that is. Like I'm going to let my fellow Fire Wheels get dragged off and enslaved just like that." A hand ruffles Mele's head, firm but affectionate, and enough to get a girl feeling all sorts of conflicted, tingly feelings. Silsila takes the time to undo Birsi's bindings, before stepping in front of her. "If I win, you have to give Mele, Emissa, and Ders a kiss apology for whatever it was you did to 'em, and you're coming out with us tonight as our plus 1. We're gonna make sure everybody gets to see how the Fire Wheels party with the Royal guard."
The Host's hands reach up to her own vest, gripping the fabric firmly. Without apparent effort, she shreds her own top, letting her arms slide down to her side, barbarically exposed. Her fingers brush against her sword. "Otherwise, I tie you back up and let these three finish their makeover session. How's that sound, Bratty Birsi?"
Amping my Feral up to 2 by showing my passion, and using Big Dyke Energy to show I'm the baddest bitch in the room.
