Amethystra Pt. 04

"Ah, yes. The revel. How could I forget?"

"It is your namesake, after all," Quilin said, searching for his clothing. He was unsuccessful and looked plaintively to Coira. "Please. My clothing?"

"I did nothing to it," she said, putting a hand over her bosoms. "I promise."

That satisfied Quilin. "Can you conjure me some clothing?"

"If I can't, will you go to the revel naked?"

This time, her grin was infectious. Quilin stepped toward her and she straightened up, sitting on her haunches and looking up at the half-elf. He cupped her chin in his palm and gave her a firm squeeze. "Clothing, Madam Revel," he insisted, a hard edge in his voice in spite of the grin on his face.

"Yes, master," Coira said, licking her lips as her eyes glowered with excitement. She put her hands on his chest, whispering arcane words as her fingertips and palms spread outward from his midline, cupping his shoulders, sheathing his arms, then gliding from his hands to his hips. She stroked her palms down his muscular thighs, all the way to his calves, leaning well over the edge of the chair and using Quilin for leverage to keep from falling onto her face as she touched his toes. Her hands slid up, the tiefling still whispering her spell, until both hands cupped his low-hanging fruit. She lifted the orbs, then slid her fingers to the length of his manhood. She stared at the crown, then opened her lips and placed him fully into her mouth. Coira's eyes closed as she savored the taste of him. She was humming, the power of her magic hanging in the air, so close to its climax. Quilin could feel the spell, could sense the release nearing as though it were his own sexual climax.

Coira released his manhood, kissed his navel, then spoke the final word. In a rush of viridian magic, he was clad in a swiftly-materializing suit of black linen with golden embroidery upon his doublet. The skirts of his doublet had twin oblong "eyes" of gold that seemed to match Coira's eyes. He found that quite fetching.

Quilin bent forward and kissed the tiefling between her horns.

"Pray that your client has further need of my services," Quilin said softly to her as he spun on his heel and left Coira's workshop.

The tiefling enjoyed the view of his muscular backside as he departed and, still nude, laid back on the chaise lounge, ready to indulge her wantonness for several hours more.

Quilin had a grin plastered to his face, unmitigated by the realization that he may be late to the family revel. His presence was not required, but it was expected. More, Quilin knew that he would enjoy the display of exquisite beauty that always came with such parties. Thoughts of that beauty invariably brought his mind to Lirafey, who had laid claim to him, in a manner of speaking, when he had come of age.

Much to the chagrin of some of his peers, of whom he had few. There was Jasz Honor, a tiefling girl adopted by a dwarven farmer after her parents had abandoned her as an infant, horrified by the horns tenting her brow. Avandre couldn't be ignored either, though she was the noble daughter of the Emerald Regent in Rua'Corona and he saw her rarely. What romance he might have entertained with her would have been forbidden by Enderon Elladyr. If not him, then her brother Caspian would have drawn steel on Quilin without hesitation for daring to pursue the rose-haired high elf.

There were other eligible bachelorettes within Amethystra's walls, not the least of which among the Court of the Dancing Moon. Of course, Lirafey, being the high priestess of Lunaire in Amethystra, intimidated those handmaidens, acolytes, and such like enough that they rarely showed Quilin any outward displays of desire. He couldn't blame them, though he long suspected that Lirafey was less concerned with fidelity than she was with honesty between them.

And that thought brough metaphorical stones to Quilin's stride. The prospect of telling Lirafey that he had spent the last several hours hilt-deep in Coira Revel, a renowned philanderer, erstwhile courtesan, and generally decadent woman. With that in mind, Quilin entered House Torvirr from the rear, and reminded himself of a common colloquialism in Amethystra as he did so, evoking a grin on his youthful face.

"Entered House Torvirr from the rear," was a common phrase used to surreptitiously describe a secretive sexual act. It was most commonly used by adolescent lovers when they met up for romantic liaisons without informing their parents. However, the phrase was also common among philandering spouses, or between otherwise unlikely partners.

Indeed, it could be said that Quilin entered House Torvirr from the rear with Coira, a woman that was a decade his senior and not his common lover.

Despite the impending castigation he feared Lirafey would levy upon him, he couldn't help a gentle rub of his groin and a smile as he thought of her crimson loins wrapped around his ashen shaft.

As he poked into the rear entrance of House Torvirr, a towering, imposing presence stopped him in his tracks. At first, he thought his father was there. Instead, he found himself staring into the bulging chest of Wolfe Stormgrin, and an aura of sexual release assaulted his senses. "Gods, what happened in here?"

Quilin then saw Madam Selvi, the Steward of House Torvirr. She was securing her bosoms with a smirk on her face, glancing from the mighty goliath to the young lord.

"Master Torvirr," Selvi said, bowing her head respectfully. "Forgive my dalliance. A man of this stature can't visit House Torvirr without checking in with the House Steward."

"Is he fit for a revel, then?" Quilin asked, slipping past the huge warrior and sidling up next to Madam Selvi. "He looks like he might be more at home in the stables."

"Watch your tongue, boy," Wolfe said, tying his breeches.

"Oh, relax," Selvi said, admonishing the visitor. "It's a compliment. He means that it would have been more appropriate for me to saddle you and ride you until your body loses all strength."

Wolfe paused for a moment, then grinned. "Aye, he may be right, then."

"Not to say that you aren't a proper mare yourself," Quilin said, licking his lips. "Gods know that you love a good mounting."

"Not that you'd know," Madam Selvi said, elbowing the half-elf in the ribs. Quilin feigned a mortal wound, groaning and rolling away as the Aesir woman straightened herself. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have a revel to get underway. I have to find my apprentice."

"Dwarf girl?" Wolfe asked. "I spied her in the company of your king."

"Coetae's cunny," Selvi swore, shaking her head. "That girl is going to get herself hurt!"

"She can take it," Wolfe said, and Selvi glared at the goliath, whose smirk belied his teasing.

When Selvi departed, Quilin was grinning as he watched her firm backside dancing under her skirts. "Woman like that needs a certain kind of man," Wolfe said. "Ample hindquarters require an ample manhood."

"She's only ever flirted with me," Quilin admitted, "but I don't mind. We have a lovely comradery and I fear a rutting, as glorious as it might be, would disrupt our dynamic."

"Bah," Wolfe said. "Never been my experience. Take Ravin and me for example. Erstwhile lovers, best of friends, and not a soul in this world that I'd rather have at my back when things go sideways."

"I do not doubt," Quilin said. "But I believe that such a relationship is a niche case. It cannot apply to all friendships, all lovers, all the time."

"A what case?"

"Niche."

Wolfe furrowed his brow. "Right. Are you joining the revel?"

Quilin smiled. "I'll be around. Why?"

"Seems...irregular."

"Why?"

"Your parents made it clear that it would cater to the flesh," Wolfe said.

"And it will, I assure you!"

"And you will join your parents?"

"Nothing crass," Quilin said. "But I will have my fun."

"Well enough," Wolfe said. "Tell me, lad, do your parents coddle you as their prince, or do you know adventure?"

"That depends on your definition of adventure," Quilin replied. "I've seen battle. Small skirmishes, mostly, and often with brigands or highwaymen."

"Your parents put you in danger?" Wolfe asked, more curious than anything.

"Hardly. I put myself in danger. They simply do not stop me."

"Why?" Wolfe asked, planting his hands on his hips while the half-naelf made himself more comfortable.

"Duty," Quilin said, shrugging. "Perhaps more. Perhaps it is in my blood to throw myself at those that would harm goodly folk."

"What about a dragon? Or a giant?" Wolfe asked. "Or worse?"

"Worse? Like a demon?"

"Mayhap."

Quilin's ash-grey face seemed to pale as he considered the prospect, but slowly, resolutely, he nodded. "Aye, I could draw steel against a demon. The gods are with me."

Wolfe smirked a little. He bent and retrieved a rather pedestrian waistcoat. Quilin wasn't certain the garment could fit the robust man's torso, but it slipped on easily enough. From within, he produced a small envelope. "Read it at your leisure, boy. See you at the revel."

Quilin took the envelope and, after Wolfe left the small back room near the kitchens of House Torvirr, broke the wax seal and read the contents. A grin began to crawl across his face, and a light flickered to life in his eyes as he read the neatly folded parchment within. He tucked the message into his own pocket and left the envelope fluttering to the ground.

House Torvirr Revel

Quilin wanted to take Lirafey's hand as his mother and father stood side-by-side, regarding them as more guests filtered into the revel hall. He mastered his insecurity, though, and turned as the great doors that opened into the revel hall parted, revealing a trio that Quilin knew well. Venos Larque, with his rose-bladed sword at his hip, led a pair of naelves into the festhall, both of them grinning wide as the strode in lock-step, arms linked.

"Matron Mother," Venos called out, bowing, "Calafein Baensek and Moon Maiden Celise Silvermoon, of Argentmoon."

"Celise!" Luriia cried. "Calafein! My friends, you came!"

"Your invitation called for a high revel," Calafein said. "I could not dissuade my wife even if I tried."

"It has been too long, Lady Torvirr," Celise said. Few would recognize the blatant disregarde for naelven tradition, but when Celise omitted Luriia's title of Matron Mother, Lirafey tensed next to Quilin. He knew enough of those traditions to know that Lirafey was resisting the urge to admonish Celise. Quilin glanced at the dark elf, who was watching Celise and Luriia embrace, and found that he was truly quite enamored by her fair, delicate features, perhaps because the contrasted so starkly with her often severe mannerisms.

"You remember my son, Quilin," Luriia said, taking Celise by the hand. "And I am pleased to introduce my adopted sister, Lirafey."

"Calafein has spoken highly of your son's skills in combat," Celise said, taking Quilin's hand and smiling at him. "And it is a pleasure to meet another Torvirr lady. The Free Marches are stronger with each addition to your family, Luriia."

"As she said," Lirafey said to Celise, "I joined House Torvirr. I was not born into it. We were once enemies."

"Many who were once our enemies can become our friends," Celise said. "My husband has learned that lesson well over the decades."

"And how are Sinala and Szinvyr?" Luriia asked Calafein.

"Very well," the weapons master replied. "I receive magical missives betimes. They are an adventurous pair. When last I heard, they were bound for the Far East of Ayros with a travelling troupe of performers."

"A circus?" Quilin asked, a youthful wonder in his eyes.

Celise snickered. The Moon Maiden turned her regard to Lirafey, then to the crescent moon emblem she wore on a platinum chain between her bosoms. "Lirafey," she said in soft, sweet tones, "join me. As Lunaire's Moon Maiden, I am eager to hear how you have come to worship our Lady-in-Silver, and how that worship has informed your management of her temple here."

Lirafey smiled sweetly, took Celise's hand, and departed without another look to Quilin or his parents. Luriia embraced Calafein then, and the man that Quilin had known only as Uncle Cal for most of his youth escorted Luriia away as more visitors filtered into the Hall of Revelry.

"Son," Hammer said, putting a hand on Quilin's shoulder. Quilin stiffened, for he recognized this tone. It was the same one his father had affected when he admonished Quilin for engaging Felia Atio, who just so happened to be the adopted daughter of a very influential dwarf. "I do not fault you for your taste in women."

Quilin swallowed hard.

"You get it honestly. Naelven women are enchanting," Hammer said, grinning. "But be careful, my son."

"What do you fear?" Quilin asked. "For my heart?"

"Hardly that," Hammer said. "Dark elves can be unpredictable. Even your mother has given me cause for concern in the past. If you give your heart to that woman, then you are putting it in harms way, though I sincerely doubt Lirafey would intend to hurt you."

Quilin nodded. "Does Mother know about us?"

"She has long suspected." Hammer patted his son on the back. "Remember that very, very little escapes her notice, especially when it comes to her loved ones."

Quilin nodded. His hand came to rest on the pocket containing the missive from Wolfe. "Father, I think I will be leaving Amethystra soon."

"I assumed so," Hammer said. "You are the same age I was when I left the Aesir homeland. And you were only a few years old when I truly settled into this place. It is not in your blood to remain within the walls of any city for very long. Not for a long time to come, likely."

Quilin smiled, relieved that his father understood. "How will Mother take it?"

"As she takes everything," Hammer said. "With grace and love."

Quilin's smile grew wider. "I look forward to travelling with Wolfe. He is a great warrior, I am sure."

Hammer's smile diminished slightly. "You are joining his guild?"

"Perhaps, but that is a decision for another day. For now," he said, "I seek only to do greater good in our part of the world."

"Be certain your compass always points that way," Hammer said, clapping his son on the back. "When do you leave?"

"Soon, likely," Quilin said. "The morrow. The next day, perhaps."

"Bid your mother and I a fond farewell, my son. I'll see to it that you are sent off as a warrior of Aesir blood ought to be," Hammer said.

"Let me guess," Quilin said with a grin. "Feasting and singing and dancing?"

"No," Hammer said, turning to face the young warrior with a sincere look on his face. "Our finest warriors will cut open their flesh and drip their blood on your brow, on your hands, and on your chest. We will anoint you with the gifts the gods of war have given us, that you may carry them into battle yourself."

Quilin's playful smirk faded into a grave expression. He nodded, understanding the honor his father was paying him.

"I love you, father," Quilin said.

"And I love you, my son," Hammer returned. "Now go! Revel as only a Thunderborn can!"

"Am I not Torvirr as well?" Quilin asked slyly as the mood shifted.

"Aye, overwhelmingly so in some ways," Hammer said. He took his son by the shoulders. "But you are my son too. You are Thunderborn. Your voice will crack the sky, and your arms will tear down mighty oaks! Your strides are as swift as the gale and your heart, pure and clean!"

Quilin grinned, and truly, in that moment, he could feel the raw, primal power of his father's spirit resonating from the mighty man's core. And he could feel it in his own self as well, setting his blood aflame with passion and fury and all the things an Aesir barbarian might feel in the rush of battle!

Their brows touched together, and the impact might have shaken young Quilin if not for the power of the moment they shared. When he pulled away from his father, he had one thing, one person, on his mind.

Felia Tio sat at an outdoor table, sipping sparkling water that had been infused with rare fruits from the frozen lands beyond the Worldwyrm mountain range far to the north. She could hear the music coming from House Torvirr, which was a short walk from the corner of Esendil Avenue and the Corinth Street. Indeed, the courtyard to that famous House was in her sight, as the terrain betwixt the two points was almost perfectly flat. Were it not for the traffic bustling through the open air Night Market, she likely could have seen exactly who was arriving at the revel.

The adopted daughter of a dwarven warrior of high regard rarely had nights like this, where her overbearing, loving father gave her the run of the town. He would be in attendance later, she knew, for Jorun Waraxe rarely missed a noteworthy event that Hammer Thunderborn was a part of. Brother to Dravid Waraxe, the High General and King of Clan Waraxe, Jorun was like a cousin to Hammer, if not a full-fledged brother, by virtue of the deep brotherhood and friendship that Hammer and Dravid shared for years.

Felia was glad that they were so close, because it gave her nights where she did not have to worry about the watchful gaze of her loving, adoptive father. If there was anything the horned, fiendborne tiefling couldn't stand, it was being monitored. Dwarves were so strict with their rules, and her kind were simply not built to follow any sort of rules, save for those crafted by their own hearts.

So Felia, free for the night, uncrossed her thighs, let her loose, thin skirt flutter in a breeze tantalizingly for any that might be watching, and crossed them again, reclining in the comfortable deck chair on the large dining balcony of the Wanton Whimsy, a modest restaurant known for its simple, delicious foods and delectable pies. She hadn't planned on dining, though. Rather, the tiefling only wanted to feel the fresh air on her lavender skin and in her gleaming gray hair. She closed her eyes as the sparkling water tickled her throat, almost causing her to cough as it went down.

Over the course of the next hour, she sampled several different types of drink, some that were intoxicatingly delicious, while others were simply intoxicating. She didn't often indulge in spirits, but tonight felt special. Her eyes, silver to match her gray hair, glistened in the night lights of the night market. All colors of faerie fire lined the streets, dancing in the street torches and coruscating along roofs and gutters.

She didn't notice the grinning man that approached the Whimsy, quick-stepping between the passers by while politely greeting those that recognized him. Indeed, her eyes were closed, mouth full of sparkling water tickling her tongue when she felt his presence sitting across from her. She nearly lost her drink when she saw Quilin sitting in front of her, struggling to swallow and stifling a minute belch that belied the fizzy liquid in her stomach.

"Quil!" she gasped. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the revel?"

"I wanted to be with you," Quilin said. "Your da will be busy tonight, aye?"

She nodded, lavender cheeks brightening not only with a blush, but with an excited glow that illuminated faint whorls of silvery light that belied her nature. Felia was a sorceress, blessed by the moon with minor magics that she had never cared to pursue. She pursed her lips, one of Quilin's favorite features. "Busy with your own famous father. Is that why you chose me over the revel?"

Quilin leaned forward, elbows on her table as he laced his fingers together. Felia admired the way his thick, strong forearms twitched in conjunction with the movements of his fingers. "That's not why, but it does mean he won't be around to interrupt us."

Felia's grin took in her ears. "Dinner, then? Or shall we jump straight to the fun part?"

"Romance me first," Quilin said, feigning disappointment. "You know I need to be wooed!"