"I want to see her..." Alsiif decided to shadow Ryyna.
"I want to see her..." Alsiif decided to shadow Ryyna.
Aryyna was off by one of the windows, two gorgeous Succubi at her sides, and a gaggle of hanger ons, moochers, and courtesans clustering about her. The ilharess herself was much as Ryyna had heard - exceptionally gorgeous, even by Drow standards, and very well endowed, again even by Drow standards. She was clad in a fur lined leotard of sorts with a neckline that was more aptly described as a navel-line, and with a pipe in one hand, and a glass of some exotic wine in the other, laughing and talking with her entourage.
Neit was able to find out some of the other important guests about. Ilharess T'puuli Rendanvlos was in attendance, apparently, as was Ilharess Z'hrenil Maelthra and her two daughters. Beyond that there were various other important Faernsenger higher-ups, plus high ranking priestesses, a few valsharesses, and various local courtesans, artists, and businesswomen of note.
And, of course, Aryyna's only daughter; Ustdalharil Draeva Faernsenger, Valsharess of Wa'q Delmah.
Ah, the Illharesses' daughter... Somewhere in her stupor Neit had forgotten all about that part. Still, the implications were frightening. The swooning crow had heard a rumour not so far back, that two imbeciles had been publicly flayed alive for suggesting something bed-based was going on between her and her mother. Maybe not such a good idea to just try and read her thoughts, then...
Neitar just lit up a new stogie and observed for a moment, trying to judge the woman's mood. Well, staring at her chest bits, too, but mostly trying to judge her mood.
Timing was everything. The minute the woman seemed bored, Neitar swooped in, shrouded in a fog of cigar smoke, a bottle dangling lazily from the ends of her fingers. Every classy and mysterious nuance she knew was burning at full blaze. "Tha' hooks in this dress seem all kinds a messed up. You wanna... rip it open for me, darlin'?"
With any luck, that bit was her talking and not the drink.
Draeva Faernsenger looked at Neitar, blinked a few times, and then laughed. "I wasn't paying attention to anything you just said." Another giggle - another heavy shot of whatever alcohol and/or drug was in the glass she was spilling everywhere. "Ahaha... what?"
"You'rrr Valsharshess Draeva Faernseunger, aren' ya?..." Neitar mellowed out a little, speaking through her cigar. A sly smirk formed around it's edges; Truth was, one good drunkard likes another. Less effort to talk properly involved. "...No, I'm an idiot, 'course yu'r her, look at'cha..."
"...'ere." The hand holding the bottle extended to head level, revealing itself to be human-made brandy from the surface. Part of Neit's own pricey stash.
Ryyna didn't seem to be making an advance, so Alsiif decided to take action. She grabbed Ryyna's shoulders from behind and steered her towards the ilharess. "Hi! Great party..." Alsiif let Rynna's shoulders go, but wrapped them around her midsection instead. "Um... my friend here wanted to ask you something." She rested her chin on Rynna's back, and looked like she might fall asleep again...
Aryyna looked at Ryyna, and then to Alsiif, and then back to Ryyna, and then laughed (her hanger-ons all, naturally, felt compelled to join in). "Who the fuck are you two?"
Draeva downed her drink before grabbing the bottle of brandy out of Neit's hands and examining it. "Goood shtuff. I meen, it wurks." She giggled and looked Neit over. "Yur kinda hot. Dun't recognish you, tho." She pulled Neit in close, kissed her deeply, and then shrugged. "Nope. Wotsyur name?"
A little suprised, Draeva ended up with half of Neit's cigar smoke. The remaining fog leaked out through a surly, fangful grin. "Miss... Neat-awr In-full." She drawled her name out slowly, half making fun of herself, half posturing the sylables as if to make out that she was from some exotic wonderland.
After a quick look was sent towards the woman's upper body, and Neit made a face that could only be called both highly amused and terrified. "So... This gonna be the part where you gonna chop me into bits for touchin' that, mighty miss Valsharshess?... That's what most'ave em 'ed do, fur'sure..." Danger or no danger, Neitar's renegade subconcious was already sending a hand on a landing run.
Draeva giggled. "I like being touched." Another giggle as she pulled Neit in close. "Yore kinda pretty, Neiful... Nein? Neit-whoever ya are. Where'd you say yousfrom? Haven't sheen you at any of mom's partees befour."
"Not im-pour-tunt." Neit kept up a veneer of strange allure, through also relishing in the exercise of feeling up a Valsharshess' chest and midriff. The idea that you could normally get killed for this kinda thing was not just one of the drunkard's many dillusions. "Split from the 'ouse, now strikin' out with my sis'ers... A gaudy grinny one with braids and a sure-cut bitch with short arms and deep pockets. You'll see 'em."
Snatching a cheap drink from a passing manservant without breaking eye contact, Neit moved to kiss the woman again, -but then feinted away, and altered course to gnaw playfully on her earlobe instead. "...They were righ' un when they said yur mom had serious class, f'sure..."
A tactical chugging of the drink took place immediately afterwards. Damn it, kissing Neit was like fencing...
"You and her... It's real sweet... dunno how I'd work tha'..."