Emmaline approaches a traveling elven mystic

“Welcome, welcome to the Nereid Beach! Come get your fortunes told by the incredible Mistress Allyndra,” a voice rang out. It was feminine, but not female. At least not as far as Liv could tell. She traced the source across the crowd, between tents, and over to a slender young man. He couldn’t have been older than his early twenties. At least, that was her first instinct.

When she noticed his ears, however, Liv instantly knew she had been wrong.

The young man was an elf. Not the rarest species in the world, but even still. It had been quite some time since she had last seen an elf. Probably months or longer since she had seen one outside one of the major cities or the walls of the Empire.

He had a willowy flow to his limbs, almost whispy in his thinness, with delicate features that might have been called ‘cute.’ A short mess of spikey, rough, dark brown hair might have given him a puckish look if it weren’t for just how non-threatening and guileless his expression was. Even as he was standing there barking out advertisements for his ‘Mistress,’ the young man looked more like a schoolboy who had forgotten his homework than the kind of person she would expect to see scamming tourists.

Although she had to remind herself, looks could be deceiving when it came to elves. The young man might have been nineteen or twenty, as he looked, or he could have been several times that age, closing in on 70 or 80. With a bit of carefully applied make-up and perhaps a small glamour of magic (a paltry trick for an experienced elven mage) he might have been older still.

“Oh, I get it,” Emmaline said. Liv nearly jumped. The other woman was leaning close to her, as if sharing a secret, but she hadn’t bothered to whisper. No, Emmaline spoke at full volume while still standing close enough that Liv could feel her breasts brushing against her back. “That’s your type, huh? No wonder, I never really got through to you.”

“As if.” Liv said. She started to turn away, but Emmaline’s body blocked her path, forcing her to stop moving or run headlong into the other woman once again… doubtlessly knocking that joke of a bikini lose yet again.

“Well you don’t have to hide your preferences from me, Liv,” Emmaline said, ignoring her. “Come on, let’s go get you a hook up.”

“Not interested.” Liv repeated herself. She took a step forward, but Emmaline didn’t move an inch. The acrobat stood utterly unintimidated, chest to chest, and stared at her.

“...what do you want?” Liv finally broke the increasingly awkward silence.

“I think I want to go see what this Mistress Allyndra is all about,” Emmaline said. “And, mabe help you sneak your way into that cute elf boy’s--”

“Of fuck off, already!” }SNI} interrupted her. She turned away, starting toward the other side of the bazaar, but Emmaline caught her hand--though only for a moment before Liv ripped away.

“Aww, come on! It’s a fortune teller! It could be interesting--we could learn something!” Emmaline pleaded rapidfire while in her head, Liv could only wonder why she agreed to come with her.

“Fortune tellers are bullshit.”

“Maybe,” Emmaline shot back, not hesitating for even an instant. “But they do know things sometimes. Maybe she can’t tell the future, but if this Allyndra is an elf too, then who knows where she’s been. Or what she knows.”

Liv frowned. The more Emmaline talked the closer she seemed to wander toward actually making sense.

“She could know something about the lust curse,” Emmaline floated, though they both knew what she was getting at. “...or about other things.” Another pause. Emmaline’s fingers had wrapped around her hand again, and this time Liv didn’t pull away, her thoughts too wrapped up in what she knew Emmaline would say next. “About what happened to that woman who took you in ...or about your gun.”

Emmaline fell silent, her point made. For a long moment, it was just the bustling roar of the crowd around them. The churning of bodies and the indistinct crush of happy conversation around them. The sun beat down from overhead, and Liv could feel it’s rays all over the bare skin of her shoulders, the uncovered part of her breasts, and her stomach.

Finally, she answered.

“Fine. We’ll talk to the crystal ball weirdo.”

When she turned, Emmaline held a smile that, for the first time might have actually been genuine. Then it broke into a cocky smirk.

“Actually, most of them don’t even use crystals anymore. It’s more about tracking moon phases and light refractions--we had one back at the circus.”

Of course she did.

Liv shook her head but followed along anyways as Emmaline led her toward the tent of Mistress Allyndra and her feminine elven assistant.