I love half term... and so does the muse, by the looks of it!

Slight warning for adult content... I know this might not be that popular, but it is something that has to happen – you'll see why (if you can't already guess, of course!) as time goes by!

And yes: I stole a euphemism from Erik the Viking. Heheheee!

Chapter 25 – From Grace She Will Fall

Making themselves comfortable upon the makeshift benches that were scattered around the edges of the pens, Jen relayed as much of their current mission as she dared to a largely captive audience. She left out their ultimate mission and any mention of her role as the supposed prophetical defeater of the Valsharess, but she did admit to them that she was not a slave and was rather someone who wanted to find out the reasons as to why the illithid were allying themselves with the drow and stop them in the name of the rebels fighting against the domination of the Valsharess. At this, many of the slaves looked thoughtfully at one another and nodded; most of them had heard of the Valsharess, and the drow that were present were only too happy to fill the gaps in the half elf's knowledge regarding her rise to power.

What did surprise Jen was that one of the main factors in the rise of the drow who would call herself queen was the seeming disappearance of the drow goddess, Lolth. Applying what little previous knowledge she had regarding the Spider Queen, it seemed unlikely that such a deity would have gone down without a fight; that no one knew exactly what had happened to her felt strange to the half elf, for she was sure that if it had been against her will, the Realms would have rung with her displeasure. She also spent a moment wondering why the Seer had decided to keep that little titbit of information from her, she quickly made up her mind to ask Nathyrra what she knew about the whole situation when she got the chance; satisfied at this, Jen then turned her attention to the half dragon sitting across from her.

Noticing her interest, Ixenthraxsis bowed her head to her. "You have been... truthful with us, on the whole; I understand that there are aspects to any quest such as yours that cannot be made plain, and in telling us what you have, you display great trust and an even greater desire to remain true to – and indeed, succeed in - your noble plans. For that I thank you."

At the paladin's words, Jen couldn't help but sneak a glance at Valen; the tiefling was sitting cross-legged next to her upon the bench, inspecting his hands, looking, if anything, a trifle sheepish.

"But now I must ask you a question I have already voiced more than once," the half dragon continued. "You said you have come to help... how do you propose to do that?"

Fiddling with the end of her braid for a moment, Jen finally shrugged her shoulders. "To be honest... I don't really know," she answered with a defeated sigh. "We've come to break the alliance – and I want to be able to help free as many people here as I can, of course – but this place is so alien... the illithid are so different... I don't even know where to begin." She glanced at her comrades again, hoping that one of them would take over, but they all just continued to sit silently. "Our companions who are disguised as slavers right now are trying to gather information," she continued "so I suppose we might have something tomorrow, but until then-"

"You've got nothin'" Jacen spat at her, stepping out of the shadows.

"Nothing so far," Jen replied steadily, fighting down the a feeling of intense disgust at the sight of the scarred rapist.

"Nothin' is still nothin'."

"Who said you'd be included in any plans anyway?" Valen all of a sudden growled from Jen's left. "As far as I am concerned, I am more than happy for you to remain here."

"Yeah, well, that ain't gonna happen. If you lot get out, we get out." He gestured to the ragtag group of males behind him.

"Not if I say differently," the tiefling rumbled, standing up. "I have no time for those who prey on the weak and derive their pleasure from the violation of others-"

"You talk big, demonspawn. But don't forget; we nearly handed your arse to you on a plate earlier. If it wasn't for your pretty little whore there-"

Feeling a startlingly familiar rush of heat that accompanied the very physical tightening of the Weapon Master's posture, Jen quickly laid a placating hand upon Valen's shoulder to stop him from leaping bodily at the barbarian.

Breathing heavily, the tiefling snarled wordlessly as he tried to wrestle the demon back into submission; feeling a warm, light hand upon his shoulder, however, he almost yelped in surprise and turned to regard Jen warily as he felt the demon shrink back from her touch.

"He's not worth it," she murmured soothingly. "He's trying to rile you."

Now feeling a little shaky, Valen nodded to her and slowly sat back down, still glowering dangerously at Jacen; his attention, however, was now fully occupied as Ixenthraxsis stood up and strode over to him.

Clutching the barbarian by the collar, the paladin lifted Jacen easily and brought him to her strangely reptilian face. "If you come with us, it will be at my discretion; although I abhor the practice of execution, believe me when I say I am not above it. Threaten these people again, and you will wish you had never been born. Do I make myself clear?" The half dragon punctuated her final threat with a shake before throwing barbarian to the floor and glaring at him.

Rubbing his throat, Jacen glanced around for any support from his would-be comrades, but they all had shrunk back into the shadows, their fear of the draconic paladin overriding any latent sense of loyalty they may have felt for the barbarian. Growling under his breath, he regarded Ixenthraxsis with open dislike before ducking back, the air of humiliation that surrounded him palpable.

Sharing an uneasy glance with Valen, Jen knew they didn't need the Seer to prophesise that the barbarian was going to be a particularly nasty thorn in their sides.

Sparing Jacen one last, distasteful look, Ixenthraxsis then turned back to Jen. "Although I have nothing solid to offer you, I do know of a rumour..." Settling herself back down on the floor, the half dragon continued. "Usually, in an illithid city, thralls would not wake up... but here, they do. What's more, it is making the illithid nervous. Allegedly, thralls have been asking themselves now for a while why this should be... then came this alliance with the Valsharess." She regarded each drow present in turn. "I need not tell you how unusual that is – the drow and the illithid trade, yes. They may even band together against a common foe, but this Valsharess has essentially marched in here and demanded fealty... and they have given it. Freely." She paused, finding Jen's hazel eyes with her bright copper ones. "The rumour pertains to this. Why should the illithid debase themselves in this way? There can only be one reason; that they have been... destabilised in some way."

"Destabilised?" Valen asked, his brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"The one thing that keeps illithid society together is their Elder Brain. It is their... ruler; their guidance – without it, they are lost. And these illithid are lost indeed. It is getting harder for them to control their thralls and they are finding it difficult to communicate amongst themselves. Only one conclusion can be drawn; their Elder Brain is either dying... or it is already dead."

There was a snort from the corner. "It ain't a rumour – it's dead as a door nail."

Snapping her head around, Ixenthraxsis observed Jacen with open dislike. "How do you know this?"

"Stands to reason, just like you said; that and 'flayers are more nervous than you could ever believe," Jacen grinned. "I've been around 'em for long enough now to know what a city with a fully functional Elder Brain feels like... and they don't feel like this place. This place feels dead."

Many of the other thralls nodded at this, murmuring their assent.

"Sounds like a perfect opportunity," Jen said eventually. "Without an Elder Brain, the illithid are as vulnerable as they're ever going to be. If we take them out..."

"Not all of us are fighters," Milla broke in after a long pause. "I fear that many of us run the risk of being killed if we follow this path."

"That's the way it is, wench!" Jacen leered. "Only the strong survive-"

"Although the stupid definitely walk a fine line-" Valen interrupted with a snort.

"I know it's a long shot," Jen said firmly, shooting the tiefling a quelling look. "And I realise that not everyone here can fight – but I don't think we're going to get a better chance. Whatever happens, we have to break this alliance, and with the information you've provided, I seriously doubt we'll be able to talk them round; if the Elder Brain is indeed dead..."

Nodding slowly, Ixenthraxsis stood up. "You speak wisely." She then faced the rest of the slaves. "I know a lot of you do not consider yourselves fighters, but we now have the best opportunity we've ever had to fight our way free; if we work together, we can succeed." Turning her attention solely upon Jacen, the half dragon stepped forwards. "Despite your nature, I know there is nothing more you desire than your freedom, barbarian; in this, I am willing to fight by your side. However; one hint of betrayal..." she lowered her head threateningly "just one, and I will serve as your judge, jury and executioner within a heartbeat. Is this clear?"

Curling an upper lip at the half dragon, Jacen nodded curtly.

"Good." She turned away. "Then we have much to plan. Jenalil will meet with her comrades tomorrow and tell them of our plans; everything being well, we shall be ready to fight tomorrow's eve." She nodded to the half elf. "Blessings of Tamara be on you all."

o0o

Straightening his tunic and arranging it so that it exhibited just enough of his lean, well muscled torso without looking like he'd tried too hard, Xen'shai regarded himself in the grimy mirror located in his room. He had unbound his long, silvery hair fully and allowed it to cascade in a nacreous wave over his shoulders and had discarded his usual black leather armour for a pair of soft breeches and a loose fitting, laced tunic; raising an eyebrow at his reflection, he smiled sardonically as he lifted a glass filled to the brim with a deep red wine and toasted himself before setting it back down on the tray, adjacent to its crystal twin.

Pushing his feet into his boots, he glanced around the room once more; candles flickered in darkness, lending the room a warm yet mysterious aura, and a soft fur covered the bed: perfect. Smiling to himself once again, he quickly slung his sword belt around his lithe hips and tried to ignore the delicious tendrils of anticipation that were currently unfolding deep within his belly as he made for the door.

Sauntering louchly down the steps to the slave pens, the Deathsinger wrinkled his nose at the stench emanating from below and thanked the Shadow that he had remembered to place a bowl of steaming hot water in his room – the best he could do in lieu of an actual bath, but it would have to be enough. Before he touched the last step, the wererat was there to meet him, as fawning as before; regarding him disdainfully, the drow waited for the gate that heralded the entrance to the slave pens to be opened for him.

"What's milord's pleasure?" Cant simpered. "Is the mistress with you?"

"No," Xen'shai replied haughtily. "I have come to collect my thrall."

"Your thrall, milord? And which one would that be?"

Rolling his eyes, the Deathsinger took a threatening step forwards. "The half elf, iblith."

"But the mistress-"

"Has no need of - nor interest in – females. I however, do. Fetch her."

"But milord, the mistress commanded the demon to protect her... Cant doesn't want his arms ripped off for trying to take her away..." The wererat bobbed his head nervously.

Sighing through gritted teeth, Xen'shai folded his arms over his chest. "Then take me to her. The tiefling knows not to touch me."

"Yes, milord, or course, milord... let me just fetch my keys..."

Scampering over to a wooden rack spotted with mould located behind an ancient desk, Cant unhooked a large bunch of keys and then made his way over to the second of the large iron gates; unlocking it, he bowed low, gesturing the drow through.

Rolling his eyes, Xen'shai marched past him with a frustrated sigh.

o0o

"You honestly think this will work?"

Valen regarded Jen from his position, laying down on his stomach upon one of the benches, his chin resting upon his forearms.

The half elf shrugged. "I don't know, but if you have any other ideas, I would love to hear them..."

Shaking his head, the tiefling rolled off his stomach and sat up. "I've got nothing. Rizonym?"

The drow fighter shook his head solemnly. "I too have nothing more to offer."

"Well, that's that." Valen stood up and began to walk away.

Alarmed, the half elf unfolded her legs out from underneath her and made to stand up. "Uh, Valen? Are you okay?"

"Yes," the tiefling nodded. "Shouldn't I be?"

"Well... where are you going?" Jen asked, a hint of anxiety to her voice that betrayed her worry that she had managed to annoy the unpredictable Weapon Master once again.

"Uh, well, if you have to know, I've got to go and water the dragon..." he answered with a slightly bemused, lopsided smile.

"Water the..." Jen's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry... I thought, um, I mean, I wasn't thinking, I... okay. See you in a minute."

Shooting Rizonym a bewildered look, the tiefling shrugged his shoulders. "Uh... okaaay... see you in a minute..."

Grinning to himself, the scarred drow just shook his head.

Watching the Weapon Master turn the corner, Jen buried her face in her hands. "Oh, why did I have to say that..."

Now chuckling, Rizonym stood up and made his way over to the bench and sat himself down next to the half elf. "Do not worry – it was an innocent enough question," he rumbled.

"I know," Jen answered, her face still hidden behind her hands "but even so..."

Regarding her for a long moment, the scarred drow smiled a little to himself. "It is... good to see that you and the Errdegah-chath have finally come to an understanding."

Glancing towards Rizonym, Jen felt a slight flush touch her cheeks. "Well... I... I wouldn't say that-"

"Boss!"

Snapping their heads up, both the half elf and the drow frowned as Deekin stumbled over to them. "Boss!"

"What's wrong, Deekin?"

"Slaver mens coming!" the kobold rasped. "Coming with Xen'shai!"

"Xen'shai?" Jen's frown deepened. "Why's he down here? What's happened?"

"Deekin not know, but Deekin does recommend that Boss pretends to be thrall again, yes?"

Realising why Deekin had run ahead, Jen nodded emphatically. "Good point, Deek; thanks. Where's Ixenthraxsis?"

"Dragon-lady hide. She not want to be locked up again."

"Good. Okay." She squared her shoulders and momentarily glanced around, looking to see if Valen was anywhere near, to no avail. "I wonder why Xen'shai's down here?"

Rizonym just shrugged his shoulders by way of reply.

"There she is, milord; all ready and unmolested for your pleasure!"

Rolling his eyes once again at Cant's simpering deference, Xen'shai strode out of the gloom.

"Jenalil! Come here."

The Deathsinger's command was haughty, but the small, significant look her offered her spoke clearly of apology and welcome.

Trying to resist the urge to frown again, Jen stepped forward. "What is your wish, my Lord?"

Nodding to Cant, Xen'shai extended a hand and grasped Jen by the elbow. "You're to come with me. Thank you, slaver, that is all."

Without another word, he led a very confused Jen away.

o0o

Allowing herself to be led, the half elf kept silent until they had left the confines of the slave pens below and were climbing the stairs to the inn above. Shaking her arm angrily for his grasp, Jen dropped her amenable façade and rounded upon the Deathsinger furiously.

"What in the nine hells are you playing at?" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one below could hear her. "Why have you taken me from there?"

At this outburst, Xen'shai looked shocked. "I... I saw the conditions of that place earlier; I couldn't leave you down there all night..." He dropped his head and trailed off.

Sighing, Jen suddenly felt a small stab of remorse for snapping at him. "What about the others?"

"Nathyrra is arranging to have them brought up later. It.. it made more sense for... me to collect you and for her to collect the males... after all, what interest would your average female have in another"

"Oh." In putting it this way, Jen could see that his argument made sense. "I see. What about Deekin?"

"Never fear; she will not leave him there."

"Oh." Jen paused. "Good."

Smiling, Xen'shai gestured up the stairs. "After you?"

Nodding dumbly, the half elf gathered her gauzy skirts in her hands and began to climb.

Watching her climb, the drow bard just smiled.

o0o

Grimacing as he stepped away from the dark corner that the slaves had long been using as an impromptu privy, the tiefling straightened his woollen vest and began to make his way back to where Jen and Rizonym were waiting for him. Humming tunelessly under his breath, Valen began to absent mindedly sing a little ditty he had learnt when he lived in Sigil, something he had't done for a while. Frowning a little to himself, the tiefling briefly wondered why the song had come back to him, but continued to sing it nonetheless.

"I am the unbeliever... a shadow on the plains... a whisper true, a song to you...my lover's soul refrains..."

"V...Valen?"

Spinning around on the spot, the Weapon Master turned to face a strikingly pretty raven haired elven woman.

"Yes? Neniril, isn't it?"

"Yes," Neniril bobbed a curtsey and swallowed hard. "My lord, I... I just want to ask you something?"

The tiefling began to walk slowly with the elf at his side. "Are you sure you don't want to ask Jen?"

"It is about her."

"Oh. Okay... what do you want to ask?"

"Is... is she going to get us killed tomorrow?"

Stopping dead in his tracks, Valen scowled at the elf. Seeing her shrink back from him, he shook his head and contrived a smile upon his face.

"Why do you ask that?"

Neniril shrugged her petite shoulders. "Because... because as much as I wish to be free and not to be a thrall any more, I can't see how we're going to do this. There are hundreds of slavers – 'flayers, duergar, drow – out there... and we are, what, eighty in number? And most of us are not fighters..."

Casting his hand over his face, the tiefling rubbed his stubble-swathed chin and shrugged his shoulders. "I can't promise you anything, Neniril... but if anyone can get do this and get you out of this, it's Jen. Between us all, we've got a good chance."

Nodding thoughtfully, the elf smiled nervously as she bobbed another curtsey. "Thank you."

Feeling a little bemused, the tiefling ran a hand through his hair. "You're, uh, welcome."

Shaking his head as he watched the elf run off with a slightly ironic grin upon his face, Valen ambled back to where Rizonym and Jen were waiting for him, his hands deep in his pockets and his mind full of questions.

Nodding at Rizonym by way of greeting, the tiefling sat back down on the bench he had recently vacated. "Where's Jen?"

Twisting the edge of his tunic in between his clawed hands, Deekin crept forwards. "Uh, Deekin would say that Xen'shai came and took Boss away."

Furrowing his brow as he tried to muddle his way through the odd way the kobold spoke, Valen eyed Deekin suspiciously. "What?"

"Xen'shai came and collected her," Rizonym translated.

His smile slid from his face as an acute sense of horror crystallised deep within his gut. "What?" he repeated, slowly getting to his feet.

"Xen'shai came and collected her."

"And you let him take her?" the tiefling roared, launching himself at the drow fighter and dragging him up by the front of his vest.

Wrenching himself from the Weapon Master's grasp, Rizonym gave Valen an incredulous look. "Of course I did! Why should I not?"

"Because he... he.. because..." Valen stuttered angrily before throwing his arms up in the air "It doesn't matter! You should never have let her go!"

"What is all this noise?" Ixenthraxsis stepped from around the corner. "Valen? Something ails you?"

Breathing heavily, the tiefling rounded upon the half dragon before catching himself. "Did you see her go?" Did you?"

"Did I see who go?" the paladin asked slowly.

"Jen! Did you see her go?"

Ixenthraxsis shook her head. "I was told the slavers were coming through; I did not wish to run the risk of being locked up again, so I hid... why? What has happened?"

"That bastard Deathsinger has taken Jen upstairs," Valen replied furiously, glaring icily at Rizonym.

"Deathsinger?"

"Xen'shai!"

"Xen'shai?" the half dragon looked confused. "Sorry, but you are losing me..."

Sighing angrily, Valen took a deep breath. "One of our group."

Ixenthraxsis' look of confusion deepened. "And you are angry that one of your own has taken the half elf? That... doesn't make much sense."

"It would if you knew him," the tiefling muttered, clenching his hands into fists. "He's a complete and utter snake."

Giving the tiefling a shrewd look, the draconic paladin nodded slowly. "I... see." She clapped a taloned hand upon Valen's shoulder, making him growl. "What has happened has happened – there is nothing we can do except trust in Jenalil." She gave the tiefling a significant look. "Chances are, there has been information uncovered that the rest of your people wish to share post haste with her; just because you do not like this Xen'shai character does not mean his intentions are automatically anything other than noble-"

Snorting in angry disbelief at this, Valen stared fiercely at the distant gate, but did not answer.

"Calm yourself, good Valen," Ixenthraxsis said soothingly. "I am sure she wi-"

Shaking off the half dragon's hand, Valen stalked away towards the gate and glowered at the stairway beyond.

Sighing to herself as she watched the Weapon Master leave, the half dragon shook her head again and glanced towards Rizonym, who simply offered her a weary look in exchange.

o0o

Opening the door to his room, Xen'shai bowed slightly and graciously gestured for Jen to enter.

"Cut it out, Xen'shai..." Jen sighed as she stepped past him. "Why are we in here? Where's Nathyrra?"

The drow rose a sardonic eyebrow to himself before straightening himself up. "She is still in the bar, talking with that dreadful duergar."

"So... when is she going to call up the others?"

"As soon as she can tear herself away." Closing the door behind him, the Deathsinger offered Jen a mischievous smile. "Sometimes, being the 'help' can work entirely in your favour."

"Really." The half elf quirked an eyebrow. "So I've got to wait here until she is free?"

"In a manner of speaking," Xen'shai offered a small, rather secret smile before making across the room to where two crystal wine glasses were waiting. Offering her one, he gave her a slightly challenging look. "Is that such a bad thing."

Eyeing the glass a little apprehensively before she took it, Jen shrugged one shoulder. "I suppose that depends."

"Does it? On what?"

Cradling the glass in both hands, Jen glanced away, unsure of exactly of what the Deathsinger wished her to say. Spying a bowl of steaming water upon a shelf, she gave him a puzzled look instead.

"What's that for?"

Setting his glass down, Xen'shai smiled at her. "I noticed the state of those pens. I thought you might appreciate the chance to wash your feet, at least."

"You... thought I might like to wash my feet?" the half elf smiled into her glass as she took a sip of wine. "That's... uncommonly thoughtful of you."

"The Jallil d'Ssussun's wellbeing is important to me," the Deathsinger said softly, bringing the bowl down from the shelf and setting it carefully upon the small nightstand by the bed before taking a soft looking cloth and dipping it in the water. "If you would..." he then gestured that she should sit.

Taking another sip of her drink, Jen hesitated for a moment before perching upon the edge of the bed and holding her hand out. Smiling to himself, Xen'shai soaked the cloth again and knelt on the floor before her, never taking his eyes off her. Then, with his free hand, he slowly slid the light translucent material that covered her legs slowly up her calves and over her knees.

"Uh, what are you doing?" the half elf asked, a flush of crimson creeping up the side of her neck as she felt the drow's cool, obsidian fingers brush against the muscle of her legs.

"I cannot wash your feet with all that material in the way, you know," he replied softly before applying the warm, damp cloth to her skin.

"Oh," Jen remarked, swallowing convulsively. "I can do that myself, you know."

Smiling slyly, the Deathsinger re-wetted the cloth before answering her. "But I am... more than willing," he countered, holding her eyes with his whilst he re-applied the cloth gently. "You so rarely get a chance to relax..."

Biting her bottom lip momentarily, Jen simply shrugged her shoulders and tried to ignore the small, swooping feeling that blossomed deep within her gut as Xen'shai continued to applying himself to her feet.

Although it only took him a few minutes to complete his task, it seemed to last a life time; by the time he was finished, Jen was feeling rather warm and as he dropped the cloth into the bowl one last time and stood up to return it to its shelf, she took a good, long swallow of wine to calm her slightly jangling nerves.

Smiling to himself, the Deathsinger slowly made his way to the half elf's side. Noticing her stiff posture, he reached up and smoothed an errant lock of hair from her face; feeling her jump slightly and shy away from him under his fingers, he cocked his head to once side quizzically and sought her eyes with his once again.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

"It's nothing," she whispered in return, clutching at her wine glass like her sanity depended on it.

Moving closer, Xen'shai lounged upon the bed, propped up by one elbow, his eyes never leaving hers. "You cannot fool me, Jenalil..." He then reached over slowly and lightly plucked the wine glass from her unresisting hand; leaning across her, he then set it down upon the nightstand with a small click, but did not withdraw.

Leaning back slightly, Jen tried to calm her breathing.

"Why are you trembling?" the Deathsinger murmured, trailing his fingertips lightly along her upper arm, raising a line of goosebumps.

Shivering slightly, Jen leant back further. "I'm not."

Shifting his weight slightly so that he could lean closer towards her once again so that she felt as if she were drowning in his emerald eyes, Xen'shai smiled again.

"Liar."

He no more than breathed the word as he trailed his fingers up the side of her neck and grazed the ball of his thumb along her bottom lip, causing Jen to gasp slightly and close her eyes as she felt an involuntary warmth flood heavily through her lower belly.

Now so close that she could sense the heat emanating from his skin, Jen felt herself being guided backwards; stretching out a hand to balance herself, Xen'shai ran is hand down her arm and interlaced his fingers with hers. Feeling the warm, soft brush of his lips against hers, she tried momentarily to pull away, but to no avail; feeling his other hand slide through her hair and trail down the side of her neck, she finally accepted his kiss.

At first, his attentions were light, causing an almost unbearable tremor to crawl its way down her spine and root itself deep within her; feeling this tremor, the Deathsinger deepened the kiss, testing her boundaries. At first, she resisted, holding her lips tightly shut, but she quickly relented when he ran his fingertips along the curve of her pointed ear, causing her to gasp slightly and thrust her hand into his hair. Smiling at her show of passion, Xen'shai allowed his tongue to entwine around hers before sliding his hand slowly from her ear and over her shoulder to cup one breast. With a practised flick of his thumb, he then released the knot that held the front of her bodice together; feeling the material rumple and go slack as the laces loosened, he slowly disentangled himself from her mouth and began to work his way inexorably downwards.

Allowing a slight moan to escape her lips, Jen shivered as she felt him nibble at her neck and ran her hand through his hair... and stopped.

Something... wrong. Something... missing.

Snapping her eyes wide open, the half elf looked down to find Xen'shai nuzzling the tops of her exposed breasts.

"No... this is... wrong... stop it!" she panted, pushing the Deathsinger's head away from her with one hand whilst trying to wrench her other hand free from his grasp. "Stop it!"

Lifting his head, Xen'shai regarded her flushed appearance with a lopsided smile. "No point in being coy, ussta ssinjin jallil," he breathed huskily as he tried to cover her mouth with his again; to this, Jen turned her head and began frantically to try to bring the two pieces of her unlaced bodice together, all the while trying to push the amorous drow off her.

For a moment, she feared that he simply would not stop, but eventually, he sat up; at first, a flash of anger crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced with a confused, almost hurt look of rejection as his breathing calmed and the wild cast bled from his eyes. For a long moment, they regarded each other, unsure of what to say, until the half elf drew her legs up underneath herself, trying once again to ignore the slippery, warm sensation of her own readiness, and fled the room.

"Jallil! Jenalil!" Xen'shai gasped after her, another spasm of anger crossing his face as she bolted for the door. "I am sorry! I was overcome... please!"

Although she heard his words, she didn't even pause to glance over her shoulder; instead, she wrenched the door open and ran down the corridor, back, much to the Deathsinger's dismay, to the stairs that led to the slave pens.

Running a hand through his now tangled hair, Xen'shai cursed loudly before flinging her half empty wine glass at the wall opposite him in sheer frustration, where it exploded in a plume of deep crimson liquid. Watching the claret run down the walls like bloody tears, the Deathsinger sighed deeply before looking back to the door; making his own way out to the corridor beyond, he clenched his fists went to seek his brother's counsel.

o0o

Not really caring if anyone saw her, Jen ran down the corridor towards the staircase that led to the slave pens. Looking back, she would ask herself why she did not seek Nathyrra, but at that particular moment in time, all she wanted was to secrete herself away in the noisome depths and take advantage of the shadows.

How dare he? How dare he take advantage of her? Determined not to cry, the half elf swallowed past a hard lump of shame in her throat and tried to place all the blame for her actions squarely upon the Deathsinger, but deep down, she knew that she was at least partially at fault for what had happened, and it was from this that her sense of shame grew and bore fruit; no matter how much she tried to deny it, part of her was still tempted to run back and give in to her own, confusing desires.

Upon reaching the stairs, she paused for a moment to clumsily re-lace her bodice; drawing her forearm across her brow, she then tried to calm her breathing and cool her flushed countenance before descending as quickly as she could, entering the room below at a flat run.

Glaring surlily through the bars of the gate, the tiefling lifted his head at the sound of footsteps ahead, his heart suddenly thudding painfully in his chest. Catching a glimpse of a cloud of midnight blue pass by in the gloom, he straightened up from his slouch and peered forwards, trying to ascertain whether it was Jen or not.

By the resultant high pitched squeal and crackle of energy, he guessed it probably was.

Marching the wererat Cant in front of her, Jen then came into view looking flushed and shaken.

"Jen!" Alarmed, the tiefling tried to catch her attention; frowning slightly, she hung her head and pointedly looked in the the other direction, away from him.

Feeling his mouth go dry, Valen tried to swallow.

"Jen!" He tried again, hissing as loudly as he dared. Again, she all but ignored him as Cant fumbled with the keys, his face looking slightly blistered.

"You get back, you bastard!" the wererat near barked, his nervousness plain from the jangling of the keys in his hands. "I'm just lettin' 'er back in!"

Growling, the Weapon Master backed off and watched as Cant unlocked the gate, allow Jen to step through, and then close it again.

As soon as the lock clicked back into place, Valen near flew forwards, concern etched into his face.

"Jen – are you all ri-"

Pushing past him, the half elf said nothing as she scurried off into the darkness.