Aesa had always considered herself a patriot. A woman of character who stood figurative head and shoulders above her peers because of it. She had been alive longer than a good number of her kin, long enough to see her people’s exile from the Kaldorei, though admittedly only as a child. She remembered the despair and the hate and most of all the hope they all felt  as they founded the great city of Silvermoon. She remembered working side by side with general’s and royalty, directing spies and assassins against the Amani threat and perhaps most importantly the construction of the great Sunwell that had led to her people’s dependence upon magic and now the pangs of withdraws they all constantly had to contend with.<br/><br/>As much it had bothered her she watched her brothers and sisters, men and woman she thought of as her kin consume vile fel-tainted demon blood to fight the pain. Aesa had seen it transform them and only increase their pain tenfold. It was not her place as Spymistress to voice her concern nor was it her place to second guess her prince. Perhaps her lack of faith was noticed through her reluctance and then refusal to partake in the consumption of fel energy or demon blood. Perhaps that was what led to her demotion from a proud spy and advisor of kings to a warden of a jail for the enemies’ of silvermoon.<br/>She –knew- it was what had led to her position now, with her lithe body straddled against the Kaldorei’s lap with his hands bound up against the bars of his cell. The wet sounds of their kisses echoed throughout the small chamber along with the man’s bold suckling against her tongue as she tried to mock him in jest. When he pulled back the Sindorei  placed her hands upon his shoulders and pulled back as well, flipping her near mid-back length of fiery red mane over her shoulder with a flick of her head.<br/><br/>Her high, elegant cheeks were red as were the tips of her sensually formed ears and something similar to delight danced in the fel green pools of her eyes as she looked down at him from her position in his lap. Aesa Dawnsinger was a beautiful specimen of the High Elven… now Blood Elven race. Her features were beautifully formed, so statuesque that it was almost unreal if not for the slight hints of distinguished age beginning to show upon her pale, porcelain skin.<br/><br/>The warden’s pert, heart shaped rear continued to grind against his own lap each time leathers catching on his own time and time again.  Her slender yet matronly figure pressed into hiss and she leaned in once more until her face was mere centimeters away from his own. A wide, sly grin broke across her face and she let her well manicured, scarlet and gold painted nails dig into his shoulders through his simple linen shirt. “ So demanding for a prisoner, are you not?” the sweet melody of another elven giggle breaks the slight silence she’d let follow the statement . “Perhaps I should tighten those bonds of yours and slip outside of your cell. How long until you start to beg if I put on a little ‘show’ I wonder.”<br/><br/>This was all a game and one she enjoyed playing immensely with the Night Elf that was her charge. She was in reality no more a domineering mistress than he was the silent and mysterious stereotype of his people. “What say you?” her grinned widened and she pulled herself up by his shoulders before letting her plush rear bounce into his lap while she leaned in, aquiline nose grazing the tender and heated flesh of his neck.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>