As the evening grew late, and people were heading to their homes for the night. The candles were lit and the fire was burning brightly. Illuminating the room with a warm and inviting glow. Anyone passing the crowded tavern could hear the hum of voices coming from within. It was winter, and on the eve of Christmas, Fernes was hosting the annual Christmas Party for close friends. This was the only night of the year that the pub wasn't open to the public. The snow was falling outside, covering the streets in a fine layer of white powder, the water in the canals frozen solid. The guards had on their winter armor, including cloaks that bore the Stormwind crest. Today, the streets were decorated for tomorrow, when the little King would walk through the city, blessing the poor and wishing peace among his people. Of course, he would be escorted by the by Lady Katrana Prestor, and Highlord Bolvar Fordragon. Both would follow the child king closely…especially Lady Katrana. Even under the stress of his father's disappearance, the boy spread cheer, and the people enjoyed the festive seasons nonetheless.
Alorang pulled up outside the tavern. She had chosen to take a carriage instead of her mistsaber. This was the one night a year that she made an effort to look at least decent, and she didn't need fur all over her gown. A young page opened the door and offered his hand to her, she took it, and lifted her dress slightly to make her way down the steps. She places a gold pieces into his hand, and his eyes lit up.
"Call that your Christmas bonus son."
"T-Thank you M-Miss??"
"Alorang."
The page bowed from his waist, tucking the gold into a pouch at his waist before making his way back to the mailbox. The carriage drove away, making way for the next few visitors pulling in. A breeze hit Alorangs cheek, and she quickly made her way into the tavern. Fernes greeted her at the door, pulling off her cloak and hanging it at the coat rack in the corner. He turned to face her again, and his jaw dropped. Alorang was wearing a black evening dress, low cut down to her belly button on the front, barely concealing her breasts. It was the exact same in the back, cutting so low that if low that if she moved to quick, you could see the beginning of her ass. She had slits up one of sides, stopping mid-thigh. Her long hair had been pulling into a loose bun at the top of her hair, strands of curly hair falling down and resting at the base of her neck. Fernes blushed as his gaze traveled down, noticing the inviting curve of her breasts, reaching the end where the cut stopped, wishing it would go just that little bit further. Alorang placed a hand on her hip, tilting her hip to the side slightly, Fernes saw she was wearing black strapy heels to match her dress. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
"Something wrong, Fernes?"
"Not for me, Goddess, this is my favorite of the year, your dresses get …more revealing each time. Every woman in there will hate you though. They'll regret bringing their husbands."
Fernes laughed, and offered his arm too her. Alorang took it with a smirk, walking into the room with a seductive smile on her face. As predicted by Fernes, every woman's face went white, all the men gasped, their eyes traveling from Alorang's head down to her feet. Some woman slapped their husbands, sending them to get another drink. Fernes leaned in, whispering into Alorang's ear.
"Time for me to get some woman drunk, try not get killed tonight."
Atoreus almost dropped his mug of ale, watching Alorang strut down the stairs. How had his childhood best friend become so…fucking sexy. He wanted nothing more than to take her downstairs and pound the life out of her. A waiter walked by, and he grabbed a glass of red-wine off the tray, walking towards her, he straightend his tie and walked towards her.
"Well, if it isn't the woman of the hour."
Alorang turned to him, taking the glass of red wine and smiling pleasantly.
"Atoreus, you're looking rather handsome tonight."
"You look…beautiful. Who got you to wear that dress? I must thank them."
Alorang leaned her head back and let out a small laugh, resting a hand on his chest and pushing him playfully. He took her hand, brushing his lips across the surface before muttering "Stunning" beneath his breath.
Zenelith watched them from the corner of the room. Unlike everyone else, he felt no need to wear formal clothing. He was in his armor, not that anyone could see him anyway. Zenelith chose to conceal himself in the shadows until he wanted someone to see him. Fernes was aware of his presence, and left a mug of beer at the end of the counter for Zenelith to take when ready. He watched Alorang from across the room, the way her curves looked in that dress told a whole different story than the Alorang he had seen before. The muscles of a warrior, but the slender body of a woman. Her pale skin shimmered in the dull light, and the way she moved, even the simpliest moves set something off inside of him. The way she angled her hip when talking, the way her breasts bounced with each laugh, she way her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Everytime she rose to take a sip of wine, Zenelith caught a side angle of her breasts. A glimpse…a…tease. She was a tease, look at her flirting with that man, who the fuck did she think she was? Alorang was his woman, his toy, his to take whenever he wanted. There she was showing her body off like some common slut. She was HIS slut, and he wouldn't stand for this. He crossed the room in seconds, his skin-tight armor allowing him to move swiftly and silently. When he reached Alorang, he pulled her against his chest, one of his arms wrapped around her torso. His free hand resting on her neck. He came into view, glaring at Atoreus from above Alorang's head. She was small for her race, even in the heels, Zenelith liked that about her…it made her easier to toy with.
Alorang released a sharp gasp as Zenelith's leather covered hands touched her. The warmth radiated off his chest, warming her back. It didn't take much to make Alorang hot when Zenelith was around, just having him near excited her, thrilled her. He was mysterious, and powerful, and dark. His scent filled her nostrils, he smelt like blood, and sweat, and ale, and tobacco of some sorts. It made her sigh with relief. Atoreus's eyes widened with surprise at the sudden appearance of Zenelith.
"Ah…you're the presence I've been sensing. I couldn't find you, though I knew you were in the room."
"Shoulda looked 'arder then. Shouldn't yeh?…idiot."
"Zenelith…be nice. This is my best friend."
"Ah don' give ah fuck darlin'." Zenelith ignored Alorang's next comment, focusing more on her breasts. His hand trailed from her neck in-between her breasts, tracing the curves with his fingertips. Despite her whimpers and pleas for him to stop, that they were in public. Zenelith slipped his hand into her dress and over her breast. Her nipple peaking instantly. He played with it in-between his fingers, making small circles around the nipple with his fingertips. He grinned at Atoreus, never once looking at Alorang, who was leaning her head back against his chest. Her back arching slightly, pressing her breast into his hand. Atoreus watched them, draining his ale and glaring back at Zenelith, jealously and anger crossed over his face, watching Zenelith touch Alorang as he had longed to do. Alorang lifted her head away from Zenelith, pushing away his hand as Fernes started walking towards them with a tray of goblets. He noticed Alorang's flushed cheeks at Atoreus's angry eyes, glancing over at Zenelith, he smiled.
" I see you decided to show yourself Zenelith. It's nice of you to join us! Merry Christmas."
Zenelith nodded, saying nothing. His eyes still stuck on Atoreus, who just became his next target.
