Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2023 17:16:45 GMT -5
 | Jealousy & Desire Ember and zalron Word Count: 511/511/511 |
Ember had had a particularly rough day out on the field - not only had she been training new recruits, but she had also gotten her ass beat by one in particular - a nasty changeling with a power streak. The distractions running through her mind throughout training had only brought her guard down, and as a result, the new recruit had managed to sweep her into the harsh icy ground, right in front of the Enforcer that was leading the training. Thankfully, the half-Fae had regained her power, only letting the Changeling off from his position on the ground once he had begged for mercy.
Honor restored, she had finished her training and moved towards helping to rebuild some old barracks in preparation for more new recruits that would soon be arriving. The task had taken hours, and once Ember was dismissed, she didn't even deign to change out of her messy clothes that now had holes littering them from her intensive sparring, before heading to the local tavern outside of the market. The inn had become somewhat of a sanctuary for the half-Fae; she had gone there nearly every day after work to warm her bones with a glass of scotch - something that she had taken quite a liking to - before going to her barracks to fall into bed, rinsing and repeating with each passing day.
Ember pushed open the door to the tavern, ignoring the whistles of the males that greeted her like a friendly dog every time she deigned to enter, and walked to the bar, sitting down on the far side of it, closer to a corner so she could watch the people nearby.
"Give me a scotch, up, please."
The bartender obliged, pouring the whiskey, and sliding the glass to her. In return, she slid a wad of cash to the male, before taking a small sip and looking around. There were many males staring in her direction -- except one.
Zalron?
Indeed, the male was sitting in one of the circular booths, a woman on his lap who was in the process of purring into his ear and cozying up to him. Ember took another slow sip, trying to process the emotions that were roiling up inside of her at the sight.
A moment later, she downed the glass of scotch, and signaled to the bartender to pour her another.
He obliged, sliding her another glass. The feeling that she had coiling in her bones had identified itself the more she watched the interaction - jealousy, and desire. Jealousy, because the woman had herself draped over the male as if he were a plush armchair - and he didn't have any signs of disliking it. Desire, because she wished to be the one coiled on him, she wished to be the object of his affections - even if it were only for the night.
She drained the glass again, and stood, prowling towards Zalron and the whore currently on his lap. She would need the liquid courage, for what she was about to do.
Honor restored, she had finished her training and moved towards helping to rebuild some old barracks in preparation for more new recruits that would soon be arriving. The task had taken hours, and once Ember was dismissed, she didn't even deign to change out of her messy clothes that now had holes littering them from her intensive sparring, before heading to the local tavern outside of the market. The inn had become somewhat of a sanctuary for the half-Fae; she had gone there nearly every day after work to warm her bones with a glass of scotch - something that she had taken quite a liking to - before going to her barracks to fall into bed, rinsing and repeating with each passing day.
Ember pushed open the door to the tavern, ignoring the whistles of the males that greeted her like a friendly dog every time she deigned to enter, and walked to the bar, sitting down on the far side of it, closer to a corner so she could watch the people nearby.
"Give me a scotch, up, please."
The bartender obliged, pouring the whiskey, and sliding the glass to her. In return, she slid a wad of cash to the male, before taking a small sip and looking around. There were many males staring in her direction -- except one.
Zalron?
Indeed, the male was sitting in one of the circular booths, a woman on his lap who was in the process of purring into his ear and cozying up to him. Ember took another slow sip, trying to process the emotions that were roiling up inside of her at the sight.
A moment later, she downed the glass of scotch, and signaled to the bartender to pour her another.
He obliged, sliding her another glass. The feeling that she had coiling in her bones had identified itself the more she watched the interaction - jealousy, and desire. Jealousy, because the woman had herself draped over the male as if he were a plush armchair - and he didn't have any signs of disliking it. Desire, because she wished to be the one coiled on him, she wished to be the object of his affections - even if it were only for the night.
She drained the glass again, and stood, prowling towards Zalron and the whore currently on his lap. She would need the liquid courage, for what she was about to do.
