Title: Stick-ebana
Summary: Young mages aren't the only ones who've got it rough trying to prepare for those Fade encounters. More parody. And more crack, although I really don't think that word fits whatever it is I've been smoking to have come up with this.
Disclaimer: BioWare owns all; I just play in their pond.
Author's Notes: The following abomination has been brought to you by Enaid Aderyn, who in addition to being another fine writer I highly recommend started the plot bunnies hopping by comparing the positioning of pasties to the Japanese art of flower arrangement.
Makes reference to Poor Unfortunate Souls. I'm not sure what to think that my mind twists in such disturbing ways. Apologies to the ESRB.
Reviews are always welcome!
The damn thing had hit the floor again!
It was bad enough that all the good names had been taken, Shag thought, forgetting to twitch her hips as she bent to retrieve the sparkling object that had fallen to the ground for the dozenth time. Just because she'd been a late bloomer, just because her manifestation had taken a few extra minutes – all right, an hour, but she'd been amazed after this many centuries the civilized world she wanted to see couldn't have managed to come up with a few more words to delicately hint at their base desires.
And of course Caress was laughing at her. Again. That harpy had never had any trouble learning the art of arranging things.
Shag tried to tell herself she was just having a bad day. She had put So. Much. Into that musical number and it had really hurt when that mage just turned around and walked away, leaving her with all that sparkly energy and nothing to do with it. At least the leftover music she'd summoned had drowned out Whisper's hysterical cackling.
Fade, but those other desire girls could be so mean!
And now she was stuck cupping her hand under her tit because the blasted pasty would not cooperate and kept falling to the floor or coming unhinged and waving about in a decidedly unattractive way.
Well. According to Mistress Musk, leaving it like that would have attracted the eee essarby in a big-ass hurry. Not that anyone could tell her what the eee essarby actually was, only that desire girls had to be ever vigilant against it.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! There it went again! And this time when she bent to retrieve it, the sash at her waist came loose and she realized exactly how much draftier things could get in the dreamscape. AAAUGH. Maybe if Caress would just die from laughing she could concentrate enough to get things to stay put.
Why was she the only girl in the Fade who ever had to worry about a wardrobe malfunction?
It had already taken two hours and three cans of horn spray to get her mantle to hold still, since the damn thing kept trying to frizz out in all directions at once. Nighttime in the land of her desire was fast approaching and she just didn't see how she was going to be ready in time. If things went on at this rate her husky voice would be marred by her tears of frustration and everybody knew there was no such thing as a pity demon.
Spirit. She meant spirit.
With her sash around her knees again, Shag wondered if it was too late to change careers and go into the field of broodmothering. At least those bitches never had to worry about the proper placement of pasties.
