The Deal is Altered

It was announced in advance when, a few days later, Liriel appeared once more. A nervous-looking servant came to Silendiel, then, and told her that the seneschal of the kaldorei embassy had appeared outside, twin sentinel guards in tow, and wished to speak to the Lady of the house. Silendiel instructed that the visitors, unannounced, be made to wait some ten minutes, and then set about dragging Neryn from her post, which she took surprisingly seriously, and into the sanctum. A chaise sturdy enough to carry the weight of the large Lieutenant was pushed into just the right position – that was, Silendiel asked Neryn to do it, and it was done – and then asked her to lie atop the thing.

Neryn, unused to such decadence as lying down seemed to be when one was not trying to sleep, arranged herself almost in an upright position, leaning upon the raised back of the chaise with one elbow. Looking upon this arrangement was the tutting, slightly critical Silendiel, who asked her steadfast, stubborn sentinel to shift just so, here, there, to spread her legs. To scoot a little further onto the seat. After which, Silendiel found her place there, too, settling her firm butt as far up against Neryn’s crotch as she could possibly get it, then leaning back, draped against, over, her sentinel’s front. Leaned back, and to the side just so, one forearm and hand resting on Neryn’s thigh, the side that also carried that huge, if dormant, monster.

Thus arranged, the two waited for Liriel’s entry. Time passed, and, by pure coincidence, happenstance, Neryn’s free hand found its way around Silendiel, snaked around her waist, fingers splayed and pushing against her once more flat stomach, just so. She felt, keenly, how Neryn reacted to the insistent parking of her modest, if firm, ass so close, and suspected that the meeting would have to be short, or, otherwise, the afternoon would pass with more of those hard, bruising, beloved impacts against her skin.

Liriel entered, moved up to a spot on the floor five steps before where Silendiel draped herself over Neryn, and then offered a bow. Again, the practiced bow of a servant, used to such movements. Thinking little to nothing of such deference. The seneschal had been a servant before rising to her position in the embassy, that much, Silendiel thought, was certain. She offered a benevolent smile.

“Seneschal.”

“My Lady,” Liriel said. She righted herself, offered a brief look and bow of her head to Neryn, who seemed satisfied, once more, to let the locals arrange matters. Save for the occasional bit of pressure against Silendiel’s stomach, through the dress she wore.

“Today, I’m the proxy of priestess Iralis,” Liriel said.

“As ever,” Silendiel said, affecting a light, but silent, sigh. “Tell me, what does she wish for, now?”

“We have been unable to find anyone, a suitable pair, to demonstrate the physical union,” Liriel said. She looked in Silendiel’s direction, but did not really appear to see anything. Recited, almost. “The priestess asks, instead, that the two of you do the demonstration.”

Silendiel breathed in, almost snapping for breath, no longer having to affect the sigh that followed. Pausing the conversation for just a moment, sheltering by turning her head to look up at Neryn, who pursed her lips and moved her head in an indication of assent too small to be a nod, she then turned back towards Liriel.

“She asks for a noble to put on some sordid show for a handful of commoners,” Silendiel said. Voice rising as she went on, agitation building. She breathed in, raised one hand to halt Liriel’s answer, and then shook her head. Not to deny, but to try to clear it. “Why can it not be someone else? Why can it not be you, seneschal?”

“It could be me, my Lady,” Liriel said. “I proposed as much to the priestess. She felt that my… the blessing she had to bestow upon me, in order for me to be… compatible, with the Captain, would unsettle the prospects. Might scare them off.”

“Blessing?”

Liriel indicated the silvery rune upon her forehead, shining with dim light. More so than last time. Similarly, through the shirt the woman wore, Silendiel could see the faint indications of glowing, silvery bands spiraling about her form. And an ever so slight bump, her stomach still bearing the last remnants of what no doubt was the most recent union of her and the Captain.

“It is fueled by my Captain’s… essence,” she said. Trying and failing to hide the slight embarrassment she must feel in a crooked smile. It was one thing to dedicate oneself to one of the sentinels, and quite another to stand tall before someone else, even someone else initiated in the rites, as Silendiel was, and admit to what went on.

“Naturally,” Silendiel said.

After a second, she sighed, and then craned her head back and turned it, so as to look up at Neryn. Her sentinel looked down, the hand draped around Silendiel’s body rising up it, slowly, until it cupped her cheek. Neryn nodded, then. A short movement, unhurried, and unworried. She did not smile, but neither was she unhappy. She accepted. In turn, Silendiel breathed in, and then returned her attention to Liriel.

“Fine,” Silendiel said. With that single word came a little wave, one that nevertheless crashed, rolled over her, the spray of this temporary ocean remaining behind as a fluttering of anxiety in her chest. That, and resolve. A hardening of her mind, some wordless desire to show herself, to show Neryn, off. As if to underline her acceptance, she nodded, and repeated herself. “Fine. We will do it, together. My conditions remain the same. I want as much anonymity as possible.”

“I’ll take care of my end, my Lady,” Liriel said. A relieved breath escaped the woman. Quiet, but easily noticed. “The rest, I believe, is up to you. And the Lieutenant. I shall bring what prospects we have to the mansion tomorrow, late evening. Just after ten. Will that do?”

“Yes, seneschal,” Silendiel said. She breathed in, her chest rising. Somehow, the tingling, which settled into her cheeks as well, now, expanded to fill whatever space was available. Was she less anxious if she tried to hold her breath, somehow? Silendiel nodded, once more. “We will be ready.”

With that, Liriel bowed her practiced bow, and removed herself from the sanctum again. Silendiel presumed that she exited to meet the two sentinels again, and return to the embassy. Where she would report the success of her excursion, and perhaps tend to the Captain’s needs. Needs that Neryn, clearly, shared, certainly as long as Silendiel did everything she could to make her butt fit in between the sentinel’s thighs, grinding up against that fat pillar of kaldorei muscle. Which she did, shamelessly, for a little while longer. And then removed herself, cruelly having gotten Neryn worked up before taking the pleasant friction away.

“You will have to save yourself for tomorrow night. If we are to show off, I want you to be as eager and ready as you have ever been,” Silendiel said. She stood up, so as to not sit between Neryn’s legs anymore, even if she had not been touching them anymore. “Though, we shall need to decide how to best become anonymous.”

“Hard for me to become anonymous,” Neryn said. “Do you think they won’t realize who the night elf staying in the Flameborn mansion is, just because I wear a mask?”

“No,” Silendiel said. She huffed, quietly. “Perhaps not. But me, then.”

“A blindfold that covers a little more of your face. A gag, perhaps, so you won’t unwittingly let them hear you speak.”

“That will do it, you think?”

“Little sun, if we’re in there, together, and these prospects haven’t yet seen a blood elf with someone like me, do you think they’ll be studying your face closely? Or will they be marveling at what’s happening?”

“I certainly will be,” Silendiel said, having let a few seconds pass, quietly. “And I will be participating.”

“Silly.”

“And true. You are a marvel, my sentinel.”

“Stop, my ego can’t handle much more,” Neryn said.

“What will happen, if I go on? Will you become unruly, patronizing, perhaps commandeer the mansion and the staff, have us all serve you?”

“No,” Neryn said. She seemed, momentarily, not to find the turn of the conversation quite as amusing anymore. “I’ve no wish for that.”

“I know,” Silendiel said. She stepped closer, again, and placed a delicate hand against Neryn’s left cheek. Caressing, slowly, offering a slightly apologetic smile. A warm one, a content one, still. “I shall not repeat myself, then. But know that I trust you. Now, and when I am tied up. It matters not.”

“You just want people to see what your ass can handle,” Neryn said, seeming to have found her enjoyment of the conversation again. Stark, white, luminous eyes sparkling just so.

“Must you be so crude?”

“Must you so transparently wish for me to be?”

Silendiel tightened her lips, narrowed her eyes, and tried very hard to look judgmental, and slightly annoyed. The hand remaining, gently, on Neryn’s cheek did not help sell her supposed frustration, but then, she was not trying to be totally convincing. She sighed dramatically, then, and turned her eyes upward, to the ceiling. “Oh, beloved sun, what have I done to suffer this stubborn savage?”

“You came to her, and asked her to live with you?”

“Shut up,” Silendiel said, a little too quickly to be convincing. “I am conversing with the sun, not you.”

“Of course,” Neryn said. She reached up to lay a hand atop Silendiel’s, on her cheek.