<div class="floatleft">(http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn313/NovemberWerewolf/Female%20Characters/the_thief_by_deathknowz-d5e1lhi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>La’ora<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Below the Ragged Flagon<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Early-ass morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Ryst [Closed]<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>It was a blessing to be able to stretch out against the lean expanse of Ryst’s body, simply draping her form over her fellow guild member’s form, and bask in their mutual pleasure. La’ora could feel the tension leaking out of every poor, dissipating into thin-air like so much steam. When she first stepped foot into the secret little room her mind had been flooded with tension and doubts, as well as those nagging little voices of unease and unanswered questions. Now, she thought only of the soothing rumble of the cat’s purr, a sensation and a sound which only increased the lethargy in the thief. La’ora smiled, and much like a cat, stretched out slowly until her muscles began to shake, ending it all with a content sigh.<br/><br/>“I am the perfect mistake, I’ve often said,” spoke the woman with the ever-stretching grin that consumed her pretty face. “But you speak too kind, my dearest kitty-cat. Should I be perfect, I’d linger here all evening with you, bathing you with glorious gifts, poems and a breakfast that would shame the Jarl of Solitude with all its finery. Yet, instead, I’m to leave this sanctuary behind as soon as I find the use of my legs, and ask you join me for a drink. I’ve tasted your honey, now I wish for the honey mead our fair establishment so kindly supplies.”