Silsila had reduced so many girls and boys around the palace to stuttering, trembling messes, it had almost become second nature. This shaming was reminscent of a few rude tricks she's pulled on palacial staff or her fellow Fire Wheels; so it's much to her surprise when Rosethal doesn't quit out of humiliation on the spot, but instead grabs her head and pulls her in, her glowing orange eyes widening as plump, heavy lips press into her own, smothering her mouth and ruining her hold on her opponent. [i]Hmmnpphh![/i]

It was said by some that Om was a girl who could not be embarrassed, a Host who knew nothing of society, who did what she wanted and never knew any guilt in the face of others. This was only partially true--Silsila could dish it out, but taking it was another story. Her ruddy, brick-red cheeks turned a soft, tender pink as the crowd cheered and jeered, burning all the way up to her long, pointed ears, stunned by Rosethal's sudden counterattack.

This wasn't fair. Rosethal should just fold up like the other girls. The fact she was wearing armor made of one Silsila's siblings was bad enough, and now she refused even to fluster and blush like the daughter of a vizier [b]should[/b] when confronted by a brutish, barbaric host! Unfortunately, the counter-attack was successful--Om regripped, arms no longer pinning wrists but wrapped around Rosethal's body, clutching her tight as the duo rolled over the floor, tongues furiously pressed against one another, lips meeting, pressing, and grinding into one another. Silsila would rather roll on top of her and pin her down again, but the armor made things a total toss-up. Every rough grind of lips together, every exploratory slurp inside her mouth making her vision fog and body tingle. A small voice in the back of Silsila's head screamed for attention: "Let her pin you! Let her pin you and then keep kissing you, idiot!"

That thought was squashed, swiftly and mercilessly, by the imaginary thumb of Om's psyche. Spirits did not [b]yearn[/b] to be dominant by hot sorceress girls. They yearned to pin hot sorceress's to the wall, their clothes destroyed, helpless and trembling as dire threats and promises were whispered into their ear. To feel the opposite was a betrayal of all things a Host was! Om had never known such a feeling before her capture by the Fire Wheels, but the indignities placed upon the spirit had awoken something... unusual in her. Fuzzy memories were also squashed by the same thumb, but it just made her cheeks blush worse, thinking of it. It was slowing her down, this yearning and tingling, this trembling. She needed to refocus. During the struggle, she managed to wrench her lips away, panting and drooling, locking eyes with Rosethal. [i]What would make this proud warrior submit?[/i]


[hider=My Hider]
I'm using my string to "Find out what it will take to get them to do what you want"
[/hider]

[hr][hr]
[b]Birsi[/b]

Drink? While on the job? As well as offer something that wasn’t the blandest of waters a Guardswoman could get her hands on? Birsi was a bit more than annoyed, and the fact that it was such a tall, powerful Fire Wheel Barbarian who had no sense of order made her cheeks burn with annoyance. Clearly it couldn’t be anything else.

“I will have to decline your offerings, as proper procedure must be followed. To ignore, much less join in, this fragrant disregard for Holy Law is unacceptable behavior. You three will pick yourselves up, follow me closely, and be led all the way to holding cells while your punishment is decided. Knowing your ways, I doubt being stripped of all possessions and paraded around in public would do much. Also, remove your hand from my shoulder, I do not know you that well.”

Her desire to follow orders was just… A bit too powerful for the offer they were making. She would not relent on her duties, and she was going to see Law and Justice be served, or die trying. Well, not really die, even Fire Wheels knew that doing such a dark thing to a Royal Guard was stupid.