Cellebration: The Loft

[Breaker]

The Loft is only accessible by first posting in the main thread (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26269-The-Flesh-Failures-Cellebration). Reader discretion advised as this thread is rated X.


Angeline's heels clicked down the polished teak corridor. The manager of the Flesh Failures made a habit of checking through the club before the full storm of party animals struck for the night. She paused at the mouth of the spiral staircase, ready to go down and check the basement before taking a final tour of the main hall. The willowy blonde glanced back, wondering if she'd heard a sound. The loft was lit by five encased lanterns, each posted outside a solid redwood door.

The first four doors protected the type of rooms one might find in any inn across Corone. A pair of beds, a dresser and mirror, folding tables and chairs, but each also featured its own water-closet connected to the building's modern plumbing. The room closest the steps had been rented for the night to a group of adventurers led by the Champion of the Cell herself. The second had been hired for the past two weeks by a wealthy Aleraran woman of some nobility or another. The next two were vacant, the doors unbarred. The folk who wound up spending the night in unattended rooms were usually willing to pay the next day, one way or another. The last door guarded the suite that Josh Cronen had recently re-occupied, and bore a masterwork adamantine lock. Cronen had one of the keys, wherever he was, and the other had long since been lost.

Angeline almost walked back up the corridor to knock on Breaker's door, but she had hesitated and faltered the first time so she rolled her shoulders and marched down the spiral staircase. A fine boned hand slid on the sanded banister. She didn't even know if the bloody man was in there, anyway.

The first two doors are protected by ordinary locks. Astarelle has two keys to the first, anyone breaking in to the second may invent its contents based on the prompt provided. The next two are unlocked and empty other than furniture. The fifth can only be opened by the adamantine key. The key and two other "easter eggs" are concealed somewhere in the vacant rooms, see OOC thread (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26240-Cellebration-OOC) for details.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen arrived on the loft where he located four rooms that were modest if not a little extravagant. The first two were marked off as occupied leaving another open. He approached the oak frame, pulling the note out that he received when Crozius was returned to his care. It was a strange thing of writing, flowing letters written with delicate hands. He had read the note several times and wondered why the Champion of the Cell was calling upon him.

He supposed he wasn’t a bad looker in his own way. With a bemused smile he entered into the room thinking about the Champion and how well she fought as well as how well she took to body shots. He whipped his jacket off and placed it over his chair and planting the note he received on the folding table. He kicked back in a seat facing the door grabbing two tumblers and fine scotch. He poured the glasses to half full, placing them on the table and kicking his feet up, reclining in the seat and awaiting for his note to reach its destination.

[Roht Mirage]

Astarelle toed the last step, warily looking down the empty hall. It wasn't dark, certainly not compared to the intermittent, blinking blackness of the dance floor. But, it was devoid of witnesses, and if Jensen talked with the same manners that he danced...

First, Astarelle had to check something. She crept along the sturdy floorboards to the first closed door on the left. It's handle clicked and halted in her hand. They said first left, right? With slender fingers, she reached into her cleavage for one of the keys that was held in place by sand more than flesh. Its teeth of silver beamed in the warm light of the hall, making her shoot a glance to either side just to make sure she was unobserved. She quickly scraped it into the lock and turned. A moment of resistance, than the soft metal sigh of a bolt sliding. Good, she thought with a short exhale. Her hand reflexively gripped the handle, but she jerked it back before turning.

Later. Everything we need should be there. I don't need to check. She twisted the key in the opposite direction until the bolt slide solidly into place. I'm bloody well going to enjoy this night before that final dance. She dropped the key back into the warmth of her bosom and continued down the hall, her steps swaying and confident as she focused -only- on the present.

The hall bore another pair of doors farther along, and she found Jensen inside the first she glanced through. He was in a state of thickly-telegraphed leisure. “What's this about?” she asked as she leaned against the door frame, one hip hitched out to give her a sinuous, serpent-like silhouette. There was more venom in her voice than warranted, but the readily poured glasses and his smarmy grin put her on edge. His hair, also, stirred the venom with a little drop of green envy. After Breaker's blade had snicked off the end of her braid in the final round, she couldn't let it down without it looking like a lopsided mess, and she'd bury herself upside-down before she cut off even more of it. Jensen's, infuriatingly, was sleek and well-kept, long sections reaching down each side of his face like convenient handles for kissing, though she expected few women would try to dominate this tall, toned man in such a way. Perhaps that bouncer with the knives had the stones for it.

“Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said as he waved his hand over a note laying between the glasses.

Frowning, Astarelle walked across the room. If this is some sort of trick... She stopped close enough that he'd have to sit up from his comfortable lean to reach her leg, and she plucked up the note, pointedly ignoring the alcohol.

For Jensen Ambrose. Astarelle Set'Roh requests a meeting as soon as possible, it flowed in a delicate script that, while similar, was not her own. “I didn't-” she said quietly and quirked a thin eyebrow. Bewildered, she flipped the note over to find numerous lines of thatch-like characters, clearly transcribed by the same hand. Her brows climbed higher, creasing the divine mark. Farohtian? A memory caught up to her like the heaviest child in a game of tag, winded and diminished, but elated all the same.

“Oh bury me, I remember now,” she said with a sheepish shake of her head. “I woke up when they were healing me. Scared the robes right off those Ai'Brone. Coughed some tower dust on them also. And if that wasn't bad enough, I wrote this on the stone... bed... thing in my own blood.” She held up the foreign script, an imperfect but commendable attempt at copying her message before it pooled into itself. “Then, if I remember right, I said it was for you and fell onto the floor. I'm a horrible patient.”

Jensen's eyes danced as he imagined Ai'Brone robes aflutter, and perhaps Astarelle in a high-rumped sprawl, but long-strained curiosity put an edge on his expression. “And it says,” he prompted with a flippant snap of one finger against the note.

Astarelle felt herself blushing; a completely different type than what had been wrung from her at the bar. “It's about Crozius, actually. It says...” She tossed the note to the table and snatched up a glass. One wincing swig was enough for her to continue. “It says: Crozius is a beautiful lady. Respect her.”

The immortal's short, booming laugh echoed out into the hall. “My Crozius? A lady?” He took up the other glass. “I wouldn't even know where to check for those parts on a maul. But, if you say so, doctor.” With a salute that rolled the scotch, he tilted it back for a swallow.

“Now that I think about it,” Astarelle said with a deliberate narrowing of the eyes, “She did dance like a lovely lady. I know of no man who can move like that. Certainly not here.” With a not-as-shocking sip, she left him to guess if 'here' meant the club or just the room. “To be honest,” she continued as warmth rolled down her throat, “I think, in all that madness, I may have fallen in love with her.” She slid into the closest seat, planted her elbow on the table between them, and smiled brightly. Her eager lean displayed the roll of dunes, Fallien mural and otherwise, and was only obstructed when she brought the glass, teasingly, to a hair's width from her soft lips. “What would it take for you to part with her?”

[Breaker]

Angeline stomped up the last few steps as if testing their durability. Her heels clicked down the hall in such a huff she failed to notice one of the spare rooms standing open. She had a few sharp pieces of her mind she felt like sharing, and knew just who deserved them. Stupid bloody Breaker, she thought as she neared the door at the end of the hall - the one with the adamantine lock. Stupid bloody bouncers, she amended. It was Molly Doomeye, the current head of security, who had irked her ire. But Doomeye's predecessor had presented many of the same problems. You and Breaker are more alike than you'd ever admit, she thought waspishly at the broad-shouldered woman she'd left standing at the base of the stairs, guarding her club. They had the same callous attitude toward minor transgressions, the same lazy (if effective) way of using intimidation to stop scuffles before they started. Well, Doomeye's dressing-down would have to wait until after hours, but the Breaker was about to get an earful. Angeline lifted an elegant fist and rapped forcefully on the fifth redwood door.

The knock echoed down the hall, but no sound came from the other side. Or was that youthful laughter from inside Cronen's suite? For a moment Angeline could have sworn she heard something, but with heavy music wafting up the staircase it was difficult to tell. The laugh easily could have come from the club. She knocked again and pressed her ear to the sanded timber, but heard nothing besides her own beating heart.

If Doomeye lied to me, I'll stretch her over my bloody knee, She thought furiously, turning her back on the stubborn door and stamping a foot. Even if I have to get Josh and Kyla and the rest of the Ixian Knights to help me, by the Jagged Peaks I will. She took a deep breath and swallowed her anger, running hands through loose blonde hair and smoothing her sleek black dress unnecessarily. Some of the candles in the lanterns lining the hall had burned out, so she collected them in a short stack. The chore helped her re-settle into work mode, and she glanced into the open door of one of the spare rooms instinctively.

"Oh, my apologies!" She gasped, going red as a ripe tomato. It seemed as if she'd interrupted a romantic moment. She started to ask Astarelle why the the Champion wasn't using her own room, but then thought better of it. Celebrity patrons got special status at the Flesh Failures whether they wanted it or not, and both the Immortal and the Fallieni were on the guest list that night. Angeline dipped a quick curtsy with a bob of her head. "Do pardon me, and please send word if you need anything. Enjoy the evening!" She rushed back toward the staircase and the club (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26269-The-Flesh-Failures-Cellebration/page3), making room for an awkwardly tall young man with dark hair as she went.

[Breaker]

Rapidly climbing and descending bass rhythms rose up the staircase amidst the beat of deep drums. Joshua Cronen ascended to the loft with Kyla Orlouge on his arm. Josh felt drunk, more from the Mystic's company than the wine he'd consumed. The bottle sloshed slightly as the pair crested the stairs, rim ringing against the empty glass twined in the fingers of Cronen's free hand. The music from below allowed them to converse in normal tones as they strolled leisurely down the dimly lit hall.

"Won't Angeline be cross with you?" Kyla was asking. The club manager had been trying to ask him something, but the lady on his arm had proven a more pressing priority.

"She's always a little bit cross with me, I think." Josh said mildly. "At any rate, she probably just wants to talk about club business." The willowy blonde seemed to forget he no longer worked for her on occasion.

"Well, I think giving a fellow Ixian General a proper tour is good business," Kyla purred. She slid her wrist out from the crook of Josh's elbow and threaded a lithe forearm around his waist. Pale fingers curled to touch his stomach.

"I couldn't agree more." Josh traced her spine through the short red dress and hugged her shoulders gently. As they approached the last door in the hall he was forced to release her, drawing a long key with complex teeth from his hip pocket. The lock clicked and grated and tumbled. "This may be my favorite part of the Flesh Failures, though the basement makes a close second." Josh smiled as he pulled the heavy redwood door open. "Welcome to--" he cut off abruptly as they looked in.

Jake Narmolanya and Stacia Alliendra spun about the center of the chamber, arms linked like Raiaeran ice dancers. Each wore one of Breaker's enchanted boots, using their free feet for friction and balance. Jake's shirt was open, Stacia's hair mussed, and a sweetly acrid smoke emanated from the long cigar burning in a bowl on the end table. They'd rolled the fine Fallieni rug and pushed back the chairs and chesterfield to clear dancing space. When they saw him they lost hold of one another and fell into the padded leather couch, breathless and laughing. Josh couldn't help but laugh along with them. He took the wine and glasses from Kyla and placed them on the short table, picking up the still-burning cigar and grinding out its ember in the makeshift ashtray. He made the introductions and then smiled apologetically at Kyla.

"My apologies Miss Orlouge... I thought these scalawags would have returned to Underwood by now." He poured small portions of wine into each goblet and returned to Kyla's side, passing her her a glass and grazing her knuckle with a callused fingertip.

"We apologize," Stacia said pointedly. She stretched on the couch and tousled Jake's dirty blond hair, "though we did think you'd not be up so soon tonight," she added pointedly, raising an eyebrow in Josh's direction.

"I'm giving Miss Orlouge a tour-" Josh started.

"Of course, a tour," Stacia smirked, "methinks you may need privacy for that." She flounced to her feet so fast her red-gold ringlets bounced thrice. She seized Jake by the forearm and pulled him upright, "come on Mister Narmolanya, let us see if you're as nimble on the dance floor." Jake protested extravagantly but stood on one foot, allowing Stacia to drag him effortlessly as the frictionless boot slid over smooth hardwood. "Lovely to make your acquaintance Miss Orlouge!" Stacia waved as she closed the door behind them.

Josh chuckled and shook his head. "Well, welcome to chez nous," he said with a shrug, and sipped his wine. His ordinarily immaculate apartment looked like a small cyclone had visited. Only the weapons balanced atop pegs on the walls were still where he'd left them. Most prominent amongst his armaments was Rythadine. The prevaldia greatsword hung between to open doorways in the back wall. One led to the privy, the other his bedchamber. A dozen or more flickering candles lit the room, casting strangely shaped shadows. "It's usually a bit neater... but it's still just as cozy."

[Enigmatic Immortal]

”The War Maul?” Jensen cocked his head to the side as he appraised the woman before him. Obviously, aside from her deadliness in combat, she was a talented woman, and her offer was sound. He debated his usual lines of crass comments, thinking about her and the body shots and what she would look like on her knees, but that thought swiftly exited his mind. She proved she was just as tough as the immortal, and deserved that respect even if others wouldn’t show it. He reached his hand back and grabbed the bottle of scotch, refilling his cup and placing the open bottle on the table before her. He swirled the liquid around before sipping at it, tasting the amber fire on his tongue.

“It’s not negotiable, I’m afraid,” Jensen said swiftly. “The weapon actually belongs to a dear friend of mine. Adolph Gretzel of the Ixian Knights. He’s our Reclussiarch – head Chaplain- of the Knights. It’s his symbol of office and not mine to barter.” He watched her face drop just a little to hear those words, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to share her a private, real reason for this choice.

“There’s another reason,” the immortal sheepishly implied. “You see…months back The Ixian Knights had lost a very close member: My Fiancé, Stephanie. The weapon, Crozius, was her gift to Adolph, and kind of the last link we both have to her. To trade it or hand it away would be insulting to her memory. So unless you know a way to permanently kill me, I’ll be holding on to it.” He smiled raising his class in a toast.

“To the Champion,” he said respectfully. “Glory and Honor to you!” He took his sip and settled into his usual business stance. Legs up, reclined, and looking rather bored he spoke again. “Now, if you need help with something, perhaps I can be of service to you and bring the maul along.”

[Roht Mirage]

Throughout his explanation, Astarelle tilted -degree by dour degree- from her enticing lean. By the time he toasted, she shoulders touched the back of her chair, but were too tense to derive any comfort from the plush stuffing. In silence, she accepted his toast with a hesitant salute of her glass and a long series of swallows that emptied it.

“I really can be a scorpion sometimes,” she muttered, half in apology, half in self-directed venom. She blinked. “I mean...” With a sigh, she let her back melt into the chair and crossed one leg over the other. The sensuous lines of grey sand that decorated her thick black leggings caught his eye for a moment, but she didn't mind. After her unintended rudeness, she couldn't begrudge him an ogle of her dancer's legs. “I know what you mean,” she began. The empty glass, she cradled in her lap, both thumbs tracing its rim back and forth. “My staff was given to me by someone I... loved very much.” A chill ran down her spine. Even an ocean away from home, and comforted by the alcohol's warmth, it felt wrong to so much as allude to the forbidden affair. Still, if he had been willing to share...

“He's also... gone. I wouldn't trade that staff for a hundred Crozius'. Bury me, just leaving it in that trickster trunk downstairs makes me feel naked.” She realized immediately that it was an odd statement, considering the way her breasts pouted over the corset at every deep breath. Maybe she would get rid of it in the morning, when she could put all the Cell and Roht Mirage business behind her; perhaps even make some money back.

An uninvited scene took her. Worn corset of the Cell Champion! Starting bid, five-hundred gold. Yes, you! Can I get five-twenty? She shook her head, willed her cheeks to not darken, and held her glass out for a refill. I'd rather burn the blasted thing.

“There is something that you could help with, now that you mention it,” she said mostly to put aside thoughts of dead lovers and questionable attire.

Though is seemed a not-so-subtle strain on his comfort, he obliged her by taking the bottle up once more and tilting it over her glass, still clasped in both hands. “Thanks,” she said quietly, then held it in her lap instead of lifting it to her mouth. “I don't know if Sei has told you, and I've been too busy to spend much time at the castle, but I'm a proper Ixian now. There's just been so much noise with the... you know. My first order of Ixian business is kind of personal. And secret. But, it would be good to have your help.”

She leaned closer; no tease, all conspiracy. “We're going after someone tonight, someone dangerous. Me, Kyla, and Talen. There are mystics -around- to help when the time is right.” She waved a hand as if to indicate that members of the Orlouge clan might be hiding in the walls, then took a long swallow. “If you're up for a fight, one of them can come for you when we need backup. They can bring you Crozius if you don't have her -it- here. They'll also have a little something that will sober you up quick. So, this,” she tilted her half-full glass, “isn't a problem. You'll need your wits about you, because this guy might not be able to kill you, but he'll try til the depths rise up.”

Astarelle suddenly laughed, a high pitch of long-buried delight that might have marked her as mad given the topic of conversation. “Sorry! I just remembered something.” She raised a hand to stall his answer until she expunged the niggling thought. “I understand the immortal thing... now. But, between rounds of the Cell, I had no idea. I mean, we had all been revived two or three times in a single blasted day -on top of what the Ai'Brone do in the Citadel all the time- and people were pointing at you and saying, 'There's the Immortal.' It was like someone looking into a pond with a hundred fish, pointing at one, and shouting, 'That is the Wet Fish!' I already thought Coronians were mad, but that... Bury me, I thought I was too.”

During her exuberant confession, two bodies moves past the open door. She did not recognize one as Kyla, clearly planning to enjoy herself before their mission, or the other as Breaker, whom she had avoided like a night devil since the final round.

[Amber Eyes]

Kyla's face burned ruby at the sight of Jake and Stacia, but her embarrassment cooled as introductions were made. Part of her hated to see the duo leave, the mystic was enjoying the glimpses into Joshua Cronen's private life. When the door shut her eyes met his and then followed as he glanced around the room, satisfied when he found his collection in tact. She strode towards the closest wall lined with weapons as she took a small sip of the wine.

Each piece was pristine, cared for in a way one rarely saw in an army. Kyla had little need for weaponry herself but she was a lover of art and every single blade could tell a story. She gave a glance over her shoulder, meeting Josh's eyes once more, "May I?"

Breaker nodded and a smile lit the girl's face like a child in a candy shop. Her arm reached up and her fingers ran along the hilt of a short blade. A familiar insignia graced the metal but Kyla couldn't place the symbol. Her eyes followed the wall, moving to a curved blade she'd never seen before. There were assorted daggers and spears as well as a smooth black hunting knife. Her eyes finally settled on the blade that hung alone between the doorways. She moved closer, noting the chip and the stains in the otherwise perfectly crafted blade.

The mystic pulled away, knowing she couldn't puzzle over the item much more without asking questions. Something told her the origins of a blade like that would take the whole evening and Kyla wasn't sure how much time she had left. The girl had other plans for what time she did have.

Joshua had been watching her, it was clear in his eyes. "Not a bad collection," Kyla grabbed his hand with hers, pressing her palm against his. "You really are intriguing Mr. Cronen. Am I just blinded by your charms or are you always such a mystery?" Without giving him a chance to answer she pushed upwards onto her toes and brushed her lips against his.

[Breaker]

Her mouth was sweet with wine and soft as a summer breeze. Josh raised their entwined hands and pressed her palm to his stubbly cheek. Those whirlpool blue eyes flickered open and met his hazel orbs. Kyla glanced at the goblet she carried and wavered for a moment, as if trying to decide between staying rooted to the spot and stepping to the short table to free up her other hand. Cronen conjured a revolving try of ice and set his own glass down as the icecraft floated beside them. Kyla followed suit and the tray floated to settle beside the wine bottle as if suspended on invisible strings.

"That's better," Kyla said. She cupped his face between both hands and traced the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks, teased the bits of hair covering his temples and grated against the grain of his short beard.

"I may be a mystery," Josh whispered, leaning down so his lips tickled her ear. His broad hands spanned her waist, fingertips following the contours of her hips through the sleek red dress. "But you won't make many new discoveries like that." They kissed again, with more heat and urgency. Kyla pressed close and Cronen's long arms encircled her. Without thinking he lifted her and moved into the bedichamber, bare feet sliding across the floors. He was lost in the play of her tongue touching his, in the nip of fine teeth on his bottom lip.

Josh turned and sat on the long broad bed with Kyla stead on his lap. Aside from the thick feathery mattress and sturdy wooden frame, only a small square table with two unlit candles decorated the room. Dim light filtered through the empty doorway, and the music from below kept time with their racing hearts. They needed nothing else. She felt so good, the soft curves of her body molding to his own muscular frame. The long brown hair tangling and trailing through his fingers, the way she clung and drew ragged breaths between kisses. She felt right.

He let his callused hands slide down her back, the smooth fabric between his skin and hers more aphrodisiac than deterrent. Broad palms rounded the supple, comforting shape of her rear and caressed the tops of her legs. Josh kissed a line down Kyla's throat and swept his hands along her quadriceps, dissolving tension from the big muscles. The tactile combination drew a long, low moan from the Mystic's lips.

"What are you doing to me?" She gasped against his neck as Josh massaged the clustered nerves and ligaments of her hips.

"Preparing you," he chuckled as she seized the hem of his shirt and tugged upward, tangling the tight garment about his shoulders, "for what pleasure lay ahead." Taking his hands off her legs was difficult, but he managed it and reached up, helping Kyla pull the azure sifan garment over his head.

[Amber Eyes]

Her eyes took in his bare chest, followed immediately by her fingertips making their way down his chest. Something more than alcohol intoxicated the mystic, since she first met eyes with Joshua it was as though an invisible string tied them together, leading them to this moment. Kyla kissed her way down his collarbone as she reached for the back of her dress, finding the zipper. Joshua wasted no time, moving the fabric and kissing at her bare shoulders. She let out a giggle into the nape of his neck before standing, allowing the dress to fall to the floor at her feet. She pulled the string that held her undergarments together, removing them in one quick movement.

She paused for a moment, watching Joshua watching her. A tiny part of her squealed with delight as his eyes combed over every inch of skin. The girl smiled playfully, reaching down to unzip her boots without ever taking her eyes from his. She stepped out of the shoes before making her way once again into his lap. Josh lay back, and Kyla climbed on top of him, kissing his neck and allowing her fingers to enjoy the definition in his arms. She moved slowly, bringing her lips to his and her hands to the back of his head.

All at once breaker moved, and in an instant Kyla was beneath him, her heart racing as he pressed against her. Her head tilted back as he returned the delicious torture of kissing her neck. His breath was hot against her skin, sending shivers throughout the rest of her. Each touch seemed to light another part of her on fire, urging her onward. She pulled him against her, her eyes pleading.

[Breaker]

Josh felt Kyla's soft skin yield to his muscle. She was beneath him, tantalizing, inviting him in. Each instant of contact sent waves of need throbbing through his body. Like the gears of an internal machine urging him to take her.

Her ice blue eyes stopped pleading and melted as he accepted the invitation. She arched and swooned in response to his strokes, as if she had not been touched so deeply in years. Her fingernails clung and dragged, leaving long marks on his back that stung in the sweat that soon slathered them both. Kyla moaned in time with the music from the club below. Josh hummed to the tune and kissed her neck, vibrating lips eliciting a giggle.

"Oh yes," she gasped, "please touch me," her eyes rolled back as she all but shrieked, "there!"

Josh speared a thick forearm beneath her shoulders and passed one of her lithe legs in front of his sturdy frame, pulling the Mystic into his lap. Still inside her, feeling the quiver of her climax. She leaned back against his abdomen, delighting in their combined heat, stretching out her throat to kiss him behind the ear. She lost track of the kissing and gasped against his neck as his free hand worked its way between her legs.

"Oh take me," she repeated incessantly in time with the roll of her hips, "take me away, take me forever, by the Thayne just take me!"

She had her legs out almost straight as she gyrated on top of him. Josh was losing himself to her scent, the ticklish feel of her damp hair on his neck and the building waves of pressure between them. His heavy hands descended on her creamy thighs and slid along the slick skin, finding knots and tension she might not even have noticed. Some forgotten soreness leftover from the combat in the Cell most likely. Kyla caught her breath at the new source of sensation, a little pain mixed in the pleasure.

Josh exalted in her suppleness, feeling as though the tension his fingers eradicated was his own. He let go of all control as the tension popped and released.

He had an instant of bliss as Kyla cried out and he sewed seed deep inside her. An instant of nothing but loving Her. And then he was back in reality. Kyla's head lolled limply and she slumped toward the hardwood floor, unconscious from enduring such ecstasy.

Josh caught her easily and rolled so she ended up laying in the middle of the bed, as if slumbering peacefully. He had been expecting her to faint, or perhaps hoping she would. It had happened before, with similarly young and tactile women. But none had ever reflected the pleasure back on him to such depths... the Mystic had shown Cronen something new.

Kyla awoke with a start and pounced on him immediately, as if she had been dreaming he would be laying beside her, or merely pretending to have passed out. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threatened to knock his head off with kisses. Josh returned the affection, letting his eyes fall shut. It had been some time since he had lain in bed with a woman just for the sake of being with her. And she felt so good...

[Breaker]

Josh left Kyla sleeping between the sheets and slipped into his sifan shirt and trousers. After their eagerness subsided he'd lain next to her and rubbed some of the tension from those pale slender shoulders. She'd fallen asleep in no more than two minutes. He watched her awhile and then departed, feeling the pull of scores yet settled. Hopefully she'll sleep 'till I return, Breaker thought as he closed the door with a muted click.

He managed not to chuckle aloud at the scene Jake and Stacia had left and made his way into the corridor. The cool hardwood floor seemed to propel him toward the top of the staircase, for a freshly lightened energy coursed through his veins. Visions of Kyla flooded his brain but he compartmentalized the desire to rejoin her and placed a hand on the sturdy banister.

All the doors were closed, all the torches burned, and the music still swelled from below.

Breaker's bare feet carried him lightly down the steps and into the nightclub. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26269-The-Flesh-Failures-Cellebration/page4)


witchy if you're still around let me know and we can RP something out between Josh and Reine here... if not I'll just assume she went into one of the rooms and passed out.