Her tongue was stuck to the bottom of her mouth and her heart was pounding like that of a memory long since gone. Of humanity. Of drinking too much. And she was naked too. Both in memory and real time. How curious. How odd. How wonderful to once again experience the limiting of the human body. Not.
Flemeth stretched her arms and her legs. She had one arm above her head, one arm had her fingers deep in something soft and stringy and she had a third arm stretched over her abdomen and somewhat possessively grasping at her side. What in the ever….? The witch of the wilds lifted her head and groaned, she was imortal. How was it possible that she could still get hangovers?
She blinked a couple of times, trying to remember the events of last night. She could remember wine, the taste was still in her mouth. And an apparent willing body. An apparent female body, Flemeth mused at the soft arm. That was definitely new, but not surprising. Flemeth had lived for thousands of years, she supposed it had only been a matter of time.
She remembered the tearing of clothes, the bruising of lips and the constant burn of magick all around them. It had been wild. The memories made Flemeth smiled and eager to wake up the woman in her bed. She wanted to go again.
She looked around the room from her position on the bed. She was in Orlais, that much was clear. Her eyes stopped on that golden statue, of a woman… a woman as familiar as Flemeth's own face. Flemeth looked at it curiously, why did her bedmate have a statue of Andraste in her room?
When the truth hit her, Flemeth wanted to laugh. She hadn't just bedded any woman, but a chantry-person. Maybe a sister? Or a revered mother of some sort? Or…? Flemeth looked curiously at the woman and the hay-coloured hair that her fingers were imbedded in. Truth hit her like lightening from a clear sky. Oh this was truly glorious.
For the next few moments Flemeth wasn't even concerned over the fact that she had somehow stumbled into bed with the Divine Justinia the fifth. It was just too amusing.
