Will of the One<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Guest Quarters, Civic Festhall, Sigil<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Mid-morning<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Closed for Ihaana & Bryseis<br/><br/>There was some aural distortion. That was the first thing in Rysse's mind. The sound of Prisine's voice caressing the walls of the hall, invisible spirals of sound sliding over stone, wood, metal. She blinked for an instant and saw the words made colour - a riotous palette that seemed to echo Ihaana's countless tattoos. Words etched and clear like stories in a picturebook. For a moment, her mind sought to grasp the ineffable conclusion: the union between sound and form. Then the surging, leaden blow of the Gehenna Thistle smoke crackling in violet embers in the dragon-snout pipe in her long, red fingers.<br/><br/>Rysse suppressed a cough and sat up. Cool air on her bare torso. Sweat kissed her crimson skin. Her heart hammered - a dull monotone in her chest. She peered down and saw the soft curve of her belly, her ash-grey leather breeches tugged down to her hips, strings pulled open and the rich thatch of dark, damp hair. Her memory focused. A copper-skinned fire genasi woman, her strong biceps tattooed like her shaven head - that had been her handiwork. Fucked her, biceps straining - lips, tongue and teeth latched on the tiefling's throat to feel the pulse of lifeblood raging like a meltwater stream.<br/><br/>Memory was a fickle, odd thing. It could have happened moments ago, or closer to a watch. Time was acting funny. Which meant that that the Gehenna Thistle was working. Rysse brushed back damp tendrils of unkempt hair from her face. Strands of pitch black and arterial red. She shifted a little, cushions and fabrics shifting under her bare feet.<br/><br/>"Proclamation," she said - repeating rather than speaking, "what's he proclaiming?" That was a good sign - the hallmark of a good party was forgetting why she'd turned up.<br/><br/>She stumbled over to Prisine and saw sweet narcotic smoke coil like coupling bodies. Crouching by the water genasi's side, Rysse inhaled sharply from her pipe. The embers crackled, spouting indigo-tinged smoke. Holding the smoke in, she drew her fingers over the blue-tinted skin of Prisine's throat and exhaled onto her gills.<br/><br/>Rysse smiled through the haze and turned to Ihaana. "Are you getting another one then, girl?"