Wildfire Riders

Wow Illi. I think you just broke me.

Genise sat behind her desk, smiling at the young lord draped in the chair in front of her. Her glasses were perched on her nose, her red hair was swept up in a loose bun on top of her head. A few tendrils snaked down her shoulders to accentuate her pale skin.

“We are so glad to have you at the Silver Feather. All of Stormwind's nobility is YIKES!” She squealed, and the dark haired man glanced at her, his brow furrowing.

“Are you quite all right?”

“O-oh. Yes. So sorry. Papercut,” she said in her mousy voice. She wagged a finger in front of him, too quick for him to really see her injury, and then folded her hands back into her lap. She cleared her throat and continued, drawing in a deep breath. It made her ample bosom nearly pop out of the neckline of her gown.

“I see. Now, as I was saying, I'm interested in the gold membership and . . . Miss Crownsilver you're turning red. Are you quite all right?”

“I-I am? Well it is rather warm in here today. A moment.” She pressed a long, painted fingernail against a button on her desk. “Mijha, I'm too warm. Can you . . . “

“Ov course, Ma'am. I'll take care of it immediately.”

Genise's smile wavered. “Thank you!” She looked back to her guest. “Well now, gold membership is five thousand gold, as you know and OH LIGHT. NOT NOW!”

Lord Weatherton was perplexed by the outburst. Confusion quickly gave way to offense, though, and he frowned severely. “Are you suggesting I don't have those type of funds?”

She slapped the top of her desk repeatedly. “Yes, Yes, Yes! OH LIGHT YES.“ Each word was said on a raspy shout. When the fit was over, she looked at him, completely horrified by her outburst. “NO! No, not at all. I . . . “ She ran the back of her hand across her forehead, frowning at the moisture forming there. “I'm sorry Lord Weatherton. I seem to not be feeling well and I . . . mmm. I think you should have three months of free membership on the house. We'll discuss more permanent arrangements later. What do you think?”

He looked at her like she'd lost her mind. “That's . . . very kind of you.”

She rifled through her drawers to hand him a membership card with her signature. It allowed for all of the Feather's extended services to go on the house account. Her hand shook as she stretched it across the desk.

He snatched it away, peering at her. “Most kind indeed.”

“Oh yesssssssss,” she groaned.

“Right I'll . . . see myself out.” He stood and bowed low, stopping once to glance at the strange woman behind her desk. She was fanning her face with one hand and waving almost frantically with the other.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Genise growled, thrusting herself away from the desk. She fumbled beneath it, muttering all the while.

“I'm going to KILL you.”

Her elegant hand pulled out a beard, and then with it, a dwarf with a broad smile on his face.

“Ye seemed to like it fine, lass.”

“THAT WAS BUSINESS.”

“SO WAS THA'!”

She glared at him, but it didn't last long. She started giggling and pulled him to her, crushing his face against two pale pillows of joy. “It was excellent, and I'm sure he'll live even if he thinks I'm a madwoman.” She kissed him on the forehead.

Neither of them seemed to mind the bright red lipmarks branded onto his weather-beaten skin.

...two pale pillows of joy...

You folks are going to kill me. XD

"Miss Seylon, I..."

"Renna, girl, drop the 'Miss', right? Not right t'be that formal when yer nekkid."

"But I..."

"Ssh. I'll start. 's just clothes. Mmf...there."

"Ohhhh, I really don't know about this..."

"What? I'm nekkid. Now 's your turn. I ain't scared 'bout how I look, neither should you be. s' how the game's played."

"But you're...you're beautiful, Mi...uh, Seylon. I'm..."

"...you're fine, girl. Off with 'em. Now. Let's see ya."

"...oof...Light-damned pants..."

"Drawers too, Renna. All th' way."

"Oh, Light..."

"...there. Ain't it better? Nice and relaxed, free and easy. Now, let's start."

"Are..are you sure...?"

"No time like now. C'mere, kitten."

"Eep!"

"No eepin'. Just sit down here...so. Lemme rub yer shoulders. How's that? An' that?"

"That...that feels good, thank you."

"Good! Now, I just sit down here, and we can start. Y'ready?"

"I...I think so. But before we do, M...Seylon, I've got one question."

"Shoot, kitten."

"Uh...when playing strip poker, don't you start fully clothed and only take your clothes off when you lose?"

"Not the way I play it, Renna-girl. Not the way I play it."

The shadow smoked, so fingers of flesh could be free to do the exploring. The Kal'dorei raised herself up on an elbow, her pale hands tracing first the unblemished cheek of the woman beside her, then trailing along to the other side -- to the vinelike scars, starting at her temple, following them down, down past the curve of a cheek, to the hollow of her throat. Further, to another curve.

"Where'd... where'd yeh learn tha'?"

"Oh, here an' there. You like it, darlin'?"

"Ayeh." Breathless. "Ah do."

The priestess giggled. A split second later, the shadow echoed.

Tracing, tracing. Down one delicate, fine-boned wrist, along the back of a hand. Ilarra paused and entwined her fingers with Nykkolaia's, dipped her head down for a kiss. The sheets rustled.

Bored, the shadow blew smoke rings, poked at the air and drew vines in the haze.

When they parted, the mage lifted her right hand, scarred and scaled -- was it shaking a bit, from the shock of passion recently sated, now rising again? Would you blame her? -- and drew a line along Ilarra's ear, her turn to feel twisted skin and ragged flesh. She batted lazily at a dangling earring, hung from a hole that wasn't put there by choice. Stars and moons tinkled together.

"So verrah mannah," she murmured, continuing her tracery out to the pointed tip of the ear, then sliding back along and cupping the elf-woman's chin.

Silver eyes met blue. "Speak for yourself."

"Ah do. Ah'm speakin' foah both o' us."

Another giggle, another echo. "Is this the part where we swap stories about how we got them, sob in each other's arms and end up fucking for consolation?"

"Ah was hopin' we could skip raight tae tha' las' paht."

"Don't need consolation." But her fingers were already roaming, her tongue already leaving an electric trail along the mage's throat.

"Yeh can..." A gasp. "...leave tha' paht out, tae."

"Good girl. Now hush."

Perched on the windowsill, the shadow rolled another cigarette. It was going to be a long night.

Threnn wrote pron lol.

Everything was quiet in the small Hillsbrad house.

It was nearing dark, the sun setting. There was a fire burning in the fireplace. A Draenei woman was sitting with her hooves curled under her, reading. She was out of her armor, having cleaned it and put it away earlier, and wearing a shirt belonging to the broad-chested man that owned the house. Right next to her was a shield of saronite, gleaming dully in the firelight and seeming out of place in the otherwise idyllic scene.

Kasharae didn't seem to be paying attention to her surroundings, but the door was open and she could hear everything outside. Including the stomping of feet...

Swish. CLANK!

The helmet that had been lying near the door and had been the only thing in reach banged harmlessly off the shield that Kas had swiftly raised at the sound of something flying through the air. Never having looked up from her book, she lowered the shield again as the boots tromped into the living room.

"Problem?" she asked casually.

"Is thurr some Laight-fecked secret tae growin' leeks tha' Ah donae knae?!" Jolstraer raged. She heard something thud against the floor, sounding like there had been clumps of dirt attached to it.

Now the Draenei lifted softly glowing eyes from her reading and eyed the Human in the doorway. "I wouldn't know," she replied. A brow rose. "Did you really need to throw your helmet at me?" Although she knew he hadn't really been aiming.

The frustration faded and he crossed his arms over his broad chest, smirking. "Yeh're ah Pallahdin. Deal wit' 'et." He turned to head back out to the garden and the Light-fecked leeks.

Holy light filled her quickly as she pulled on it to cast the quick spells, ending with what was known as the Judgment of Justice. Jol's steps suddenly stopped, magic binding him from running away. Slowly he turned to face her as she tossed her book to the side and walked towards him.

"Did yeh reallah 'ave tae do tha'?" he asked dryly.

Smirking, strong hands broke the leather belt he wore and she kicked the door shut with a quick snap of her hoof. "You're a Paladin," she said, her smirk becoming grin as she moved a step closer. "Deal with it."

Shael O'Connaugh could hear them before he could see them. He was still on the street, hadn't even walked up the drive yet, but the laughs, screams, and wails of his children already raised havoc on his ears. There was Missy and Evan, Saramia and – yes, that bellow was Lucas. He could see Jack's dark head through the front window bent over a book, light bless him - and he was fairly sure that Aidan was about to drop something down the back of his shirt, the little bastard. Jessa was wailing, but at eleven months old, she wasn't good for much else yet. Of course, because she was crying Chrysa was crying too. Twins seemed to do everything together.

At least the two of them looked like their mother. It probably saved their wee precious lives a few times. They'd been their only colicky babies, and it had almost made him wonder if he should touch his wife ever again. All he had to do was look at the woman and she was pregnant again, and he wasn't sure either one of them would survive another round of sleepless nights and lullabies.

Bit late to worry about tha', he thought to himself.

The ice cream was getting really cold in his palm.

He slid his key into the front door.

“DA!” Saramia screeched, abandoning her toy train to run across the floor. He swept her up into his arms and kissed her cheek.

“Ye bein' good for yer Ma?”

“Uh huh. I helped her make a pie with Grandma an' then I got to have a sweet biscuit.”

He tried not to frown.

Fuck. In laws.

“Yer Gran's here?”

“Nuh. She left at lunch.” Sara began to squirm and he set her down with a soft pat on her bottom. She nabbed her train and went into the front room, probably to bash Aidan or Evan over the head with it.

If they're not screamin' in pain, they're fine.

There was some soft humming coming from the kitchen, and he recognized the song. It seemed to be the only one that would get the twins to sleep, and only when their mother sang it. He couldn't quite figure it out, but then, who was he to question the magic that had gotten the baby girls to quiet down even on their worst nights. He found his way around stacks of laundry and abandoned toys. Misses O'Connaugh was bent over a pair of cribs, her dark hair spilling past her face. A baby fist reached up to tug on it, and she laughed, unwinding the pudgy fingers from her locks.

“No, no. Jessa. Be a good girl.”

“How are ye feelin', Yva love?”

She stood up, her hands braced against her lower back. When she turned around, her prominent stomach bumped against the table, sending the vase of daisies toppling.

“Oh bloody hell.” She pulled a dishrag from her waistband and started mopping up the water. “Hello, darling.”

“I got ye ice cream like ye asked.” He placed it on the edge of the table and bent forward to help her with the flowers.

“Thank you so, so much. I've been looking forward to it all day, and the children have been unbelievable. Thank gods for Mother. She helped me get them off to school and . . . ” She stopped talking too fast, almost like someone had flicked a switch inside of her.

He glanced up at her, a bit taken aback at the murderous rage flashing in her blue eyes.

“Wha'?”

“Is that strawberry?”

“Aye.”

“But I . . . I wanted vanilla. I specifically asked for vanilla!”

“No ye didn't.”

“YES I DID.” Her voice went from velvety soft to a roar in half a heartbeat. Behind her, the twins started fussing, their dulcet coos abandoned as their mother turned into an unparalleled shrew.

He felt his temper rising, but knowing she was volatile around the six month mark, he tried to keep his anger in check. “Yva, ye asked me for ice cream. With the twins an' Lucas, vanilla made ye sick.”

She sputtered. “No, I said – I SAID – I wanted vanilla before you left. It's all I wanted all day and . . . and . . . you never listen to me.”

“Yva,” he said through gritted teeth.

“DON'T YOU YVA ME!” And then a small, pale hand was fumbling around behind her, flinging whatever she could find at him. The rolling pin grazed his cheek and near missed taking his head clean off.

“YE AIN'T GONNA SEND ME OUT LIKE AN ERRAND BOY AN' THEN PISS AN' MOAN WHEN I DON'T READ YER MIND TA KNOW YE WANT VANILLA WHEN VANILLA MADE YE PUKE WITH THE LAST THREE BABES.”

“YOU'RE RAISING YOUR VOICE AND MAKING THE TWINS UPSET!”

“I AM? I AM? YER SCREECHIN' LIKE A FUCKIN' HARPY!”

That did it. She stepped back, her hand flying to her chest in righteous indignation. The babies were in full wail mode now, and Shael could feel eyes burning through the back of his shirt. He turned around, and sure enough, his three eldest children were staring at him in shock from the doorway.

“Sorry ye lot! We're fine. Get yer bottoms into the livin' room. I'll be out in a minute.”

“Okay Da,” they said almost in unison, scampering off to do as they were told.

They actually listened. Amazing.

It took about thirty seconds for Yva's sobs to begin. She was trying to to calm the girls, but there was nothing a near hysterical woman could do to make her children feel better. Their cries just echoed their mother's now.

He went around the table to gather his little wife in his arms. “Yva love, m'sorry.”

“N-n-no I am. I was being a harpy. I j-j-just . . . I shouldn't shout. I just got all crazy. You know how I get in the third trimester. I feel all up and down and . . . “ She grabbed his cheeks and kissed all over his face, still sobbing, but now laughing too. It was the most confusing sound in the world. “I love you.”

He grunted, but as she pressed a kiss to his mouth, he found his anger seeping away. “I love ye too, now . . . I'll cook up some dinner an' ye clean yer face up an' we'll eat in a bit. An' after, I'll take the boys and get ye some vanilla ice cream, all right?”

She nodded and dashed at her cheeks. “Thank you. I'm sorry,”

“M'sorry too.”

And with that, she turned around and stooped over the girls, humming her song again.

oh my god.