Song Sprite

Through some clever maneuvering of his magibike, Winter had managed to put some distance between himself and the wyrms, and then mounted a stony outcropping. From there, he killed the motor on his bike and hopped onto the ground, kneeling and placing both hands on the ground. It had been many years since he'd had to use any of the fieldcraft he'd learned as a youth, but fortunately the skills had not been lost. With a relatively small effort of will and manipulation of mana, he was able to obscure his scent and the signature of his aura, and reduce the heat of his skin to match the surrounding air. That took care of heat-sensing, scent, and magical detection; thankfully the magibike didn't run hot. If his gamble paid off, he would now be effectively invisible to the eyeless wyrms. He stayed as still as he could, and waited. The wyrm that had peeled off to chase him suddenly burst from the ground, but it was several dozen feet to his left, and did not turn towards him before plunging back into the earth. The elf grinned triumphantly.

Esma was as enthusiastic as Olandra once they began to kiss, though somewhere in the back of her mind she was still stunned and disbelieving at this turn of events. The anger and hurt was still there, too, but for the moment that only served to lend extra fire to the passion between them. Still, upon reaching for the edge of her blouse to pull it over her head once more, she froze, caught in disbelief and indecision once more at the searing memory of what had happened last time. She looked at Olandra with anguished fear. "Promise me it's not a trick this time," she whispered.

I'm not leaving, just hiding for a while *patpats*

I'm not leaving, just hiding for a while *patpats*

Disoriented by the sudden change in who was sitting next to her, Esma didn't really understand what was happening at first. The rum was making it difficult to follow the sequence of events. "...Olandra?" she asked uncertainly, leaning back, half-afraid of her sudden, intense presence. Tears sprung to her eyes as she started to wake up from the drunken daze. She was too stunned to speak, but she slowly reached out and took hold of the bottom corner of the elf's shirt in her hand, clinging to it as though she were afraid this was a mirage that would suddenly vanish.

In answer, he saluted cheerfully with two fingers against his brow, and then peeled off to the right, taking the bike offroad over a patch of brittle sand, letting loose a couple experimental shots from his gun, though the small rounds didn't do much more than annoy the monsters. "Do your thing, boss," he called back to her. Even if he couldn't do much to harm these creatures without a sword or larger rounds, he was confident that he could out-maneuver them for as long as he needed to.

Esma sat and watched Olandra walk away, her anger vanishing again and leaving a hollow, aching black pit in its wake. Fuck... It was always going to be like this. Always. Every time she thought she could get close to someone... "What is wrong with me?" she whispered into the night, watching Olandra disappear around a corner down the street. Remembering how she had actually hoped that the elf had some kind of interest in her made her burn with shame. She had been so eager to be touched, to be wanted, that she couldn't even see she was just being used. I'm such an idiot. She banged her head against the wooden wall behind her, furious with herself. "Fuck!" she swore loudly. Finally getting to her feet, she roughly pulled her clothes on over her scratched, bruised body. Coins jingled in the bottom of the sack, but she was sorely tempted to just leave them lying there on the street. On the other hand, gold meant that just maybe she could get drunk enough to forget that this whole sorry episode ever happened. And it wasn't like she hadn't earned it. After a moment's indecision, she grabbed the coins out of the bag, and then kicked the bag away out of sheer frustration. * * * She didn't know anywhere else in town to get a drink, so after a few minutes of walking she found herself back at the same watering hole they had been at earlier. Pushing open the door, she immediately spotted the elf in the back of the room, but deliberately turned her back to the woman, walking over to the bar instead. Some of the stools were already occupied, so she slid in beside an older fellow without paying him much mind. Reaching into her pocket, she placed a gold coin on the counter. "Rum," she said dully. But before she could let go of the coin, the man beside her placed his hand over hers. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be buying her own drinks," he drawled with a wink. "Allow me." Too tired to argue, Esma shrugged and put her coin back in her pocket. "Thanks." The shot of rum arrived, and she downed it in a single swallow. The man signaled to the bartender to keep them coming. "Rough night?" he asked sympathetically, noting her swollen lip and a few visible bruises. "Need me to punch someone for ya?" Esma chuckled despite herself. "If only it were that easy." She downed another shot, eager to lose herself in drink. "Aw," the man said. Trying his luck, he sympathetically patted the cute gypsy's leg over her skirt, and then left his hand there. She didn't bother to remove it, and his hopes for the evening rose exponentially. Normally young ladies like this turned up their noses at a middle-aged man with a bit of a paunch, but this one seemed sad enough to take whatever comfort he wanted to give her. This is my lucky night, he thought to himself gleefully. Outwardly, though, he was still all sympathy and attentiveness. "I'm genuinely sorry to hear that, miss. Drink, then, and let's forget all about it." He watched in satisfaction as she downed her third shot in as many minutes. The rest of their conversation was similarly inane, but it wasn't long before his hands were touching her in other places, breaking down her barriers one by one. At one point, his arms slipped around her and his lips found her neck. Esma turned her head to the side, letting him do as he liked, and it was the first time in about half an hour that her face was visible from Olandra's point of view. The gypsy looked absolutely wretched. Her lower lip was swollen, her expression was flat and uninterested, and her eyes had no more life than a corpse. But she never resisted or pulled away, never stopped him from doing as he liked.

"Oh, how very kind of you," Esma sneered, suddenly sitting up. "You'll kidnap a girl, get her naked, and parade her around the streets for monsters, but of course you wouldn't kill her. Yeah, a real saint." Blood was welling from a cut on her lip, and she turned aside to spit onto the ground. "Atara lei va astar... I should have known better. Should have fucking known. Nobody ever really wants me. Fuck..." The tears started again, and she dashed them away angrily, hating herself for crying. "You couldn't have bloody asked me to help you get this freak?"

Esma ignored the question, if she had even heard it at all. Sure of certain death by the knife against her throat, she continued to laugh and cry, struggling to catch her breath, her naked breasts heaving in the moonlight. For some reason the thought that her life would end here, like this, seemed like a very funny joke to her.

Esma's head was ringing from the backhand blow, but she bared her teeth in defiance. "Enraka mala ni bulo gadje," she snarled in Banjari, her tone mocking, and then started laughing hysterically, closing her eyes and resting her head back on the ground as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. It was all just too much. Minotaurs, crow-monsters, and elf-witches, they could all go to hell for all she cared.

The first thing out of the bag was Esma's fist, aimed straight at Olandra's self-satisfied smirk. "Bitch!" the gypsy snarled, in no mood to feel happy about being rescued after Olandra had forced her into that situation to begin with, and by pretending to like her, no less. Her pride smarted as much as her arms, which bore long scratches from the creature's talons.

Esma screamed and lunged away, but was too slow to avoid being grabbed by the monster. Letting go of the cloak, she struggled with all her might, elbowing, kicking, and lurching to try to get free, while the cold talons dug deeply into her arms. "Let me go, you freak!" she yelped. "Help! Help!" she looked around desperately for any source of aid, but the streets were deserted, the shops and warehouses shuttered and closed for the night.

"I've never had the pleasure, but don't worry; I'm a quick study," he assured her. "I've piloted many stranger things." True to his word, once he had been shown the basic mechanics of the bikes he was able to manage the little craft as smoothly as though he had been riding them all his life. He tied a scarf tightly over his nose and mouth to keep out the sand, and put on a pair of goggles to protect his eyes, wordlessly offering Lilith a second pair.