<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/ForBqin.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>NightReign<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Manshealed Park<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Dorn; Anyone~ (she's a rude little primadonna but she's funny? <3)<br/><br/><hr/>To say that the raid had gone in the Demoness's favor would be an understatement.<br/><br/>As it were, she had stayed behind but a few moments longer to apply her new accessory, the Queen's Shiver, in a peculiar fashion. It was not necessarily that it was an uncommon drop for Chygess, rather that Nightsvale Demonkin were coded to receive race-specific drops that were statted differently than the basic drop. There was a casting speed blessing on this particular shard of the dragon queen's frill, manifesting as a gorgeous bindi for other races but set to take up space elsewhere on Reign's body in particular. Once equipped, her new prize settled upon her chest, tucked neatly between an all but nonexistent bosom. It seemed to nestle and fuse into her dark, supple flesh all at once; Even the color scheme was perfect.<em>She was in love with this game</em>. She ran her fingers across it as she sauntered off, not bothering even to jog in her leisure attempt to catch up with the others. She knew where the group was due to be next, and licked her lips as she thought of what drinks she might find laid out about Sara's home. It didn't truly matter to her if anyone noticed her fabulous new accessory, really...<br/><br/>...though she was hoping that, perhaps, Dorn might see it?<br/>Would he think it was nice, too?<br/><br/>Soft, dark fingers traced the outline of the item in question, ignoring the interest the guild had garnered as they made their way to Manshealed Park. Her tail, long as it was, bounced ever so slightly above the ground, bobbing and swaying with glee as she continued to marvel at the fruit of her labor. This guild was beginning to grow on her, of that she was certain.<br/><br/>The Queen's Shiver, upon closer inspection of its description, was labeled as a legendary item despite being racially inclined. It was also bound from the time it entered one's inventory, from the looks of it. This meant that it was bound to her from the time it dropped, which, for some odd reason, had prompted what was almost a purr from the small Demoness in question, petting the loot, murmuring to it, and all but kissing it as they made their way into Sara's home.<del>She would SURELY have kissed it if she was that flexible.</del><br/><br/>You see, the revised Queen's Shiver was confirmed to have dropped for just one other player, the only other Nightsvale Demonkin in the game. The two had all but jumped through hoops to gain access to the event-exclusive race, as while it looked to be a purely aesthetic species, its affinity for<em>dozens upon dozens</em>of passives was the perfect racial-platform for versatile clerics looking to add more variety to their arsenal of utilities. Most had written them off, and thus, the event was never truly appreciated by most of the game's player base until well after the users NightReign and Sacrosanct had been issued the race and the event had closed for good. As per her build, the healer known as NightReign was widely sought out for difficult raids, as if there was something in it for her, cooperation was guaranteed. Much like today, where she'd put her<em>best</em>foot forward and brick-walled behind the tanks so as to knock back the hordes before they could close in on other healers as some looked about in awe and as others took a backseat their better judgment and made it impossible for her to breathe, blink, or miss even a single beat for entirety of the fight. Barrier, buff, debuff, heal, barrier, barrier, stun, barrier, stun, and often, repeat. Yes, Reign was always counting, waiting,<em>always</em>watching...<br/><br/>And then there was Dorn. Never. Counting. Ever.<br/><br/>She twitched, recalling her half dozen attempts to buff the man and having been rewarded with horrific timing in return. In the course of her buffs and blessings, he had managed to time his cast far too late and miss out on her damage boosts on more than one occasion. Did they win? Of course they won, Reign would never be on a losing team! Was she upset, though? Absolutely. She huffed, watching Dorn seat himself and exchange his gear aesthetic for something thinner and less metallic. His tanking buddy, the ever winsome Crorn, had very nearly been forced to respawn but had been tagged back in on Artorius' part, which was about as impressed as she'd ever been with the sweet little slut since she'd started playing. She had been jealous of his popularity at first, but had later come to realize it was the easiness and the eagerness to please that had gotten him into such high regard with people. He was an eager little whore, and while Reign could understand the desire to be thrown down and run through, there was no chance that just ANY big strong tank would do. Reign did tend to enjoy playing with her food first, and it was nice to find someone a little more appreciative of what they were touching beforehand. Reign, upon joining B2H, had quickly found out that it was NOT wrong to pick favorites, and she was beginning to feel as though she might have a few favorites of her own.<br/>Though, one was a bit of an unbearable scrub, in her opinion.<br/><br/>Reign was going to give that lazy jackass a piece of her mind-<br/><br/>There was a dramatic wince.<br/><em>Were those confessions she was hearing?</em>The stunning Akonoh tried and failed to understand the exercise, prompting a small grin of brutish endearment on part of Reign. Artorius, absolutely adorable but much too readily available, was next to speak. Mm. She curled her lip and promptly started off in the other direction, proud and not one for sharing to begin with. "Mmmh, I don't<em>make</em>mistakes." she purred to no one in particular, quickly and expertly preparing a mixture of fresh ale and strawberry cordial and nabbing a tart from a tray on the table before she made her way to where Dorn was seated. Blue eyes narrowed against black sclera as she stood at his side, studying him, not at all amused but clearly at war with her own neediness. She-... Wanted his attention. Hmph.<br/><br/>"Would it kill you to attack things while my buffs are active?" she sighed, deciding to do what she was famous for doing. Reign did as she pleased, and made a display of this now, seating herself in Dorn's lap with a demanding wriggle, her thick bottom first, her tail then draped lazily over the left arm of the chair as she pressed her back to his chest. "I could always just<em>stop</em>buffing you?" she sniffed indignantly, uppity but not managing to come off as very convincing at the moment. As she was... well, herself, she usually did not receive thanks or compliments well, and instead sought out rewards of her own accord.<br/><br/>She did not need verbal praise or validation.<br/><br/>Dorn, however recent their having become acquainted might have been, was proving to be rather perceptive, however lazy. He seemed to pick up on this desire to be touched rather early on, for which she was increasingly more grateful. At least his timing was good for<em>something</em>? She didn't much feel like berating other healers, not while Sara was doing her good cop routine. No, Reign would have her fun later, gods' willing. She was content now to follow Akonoh with her eyes, admiring every generous pound of flesh in contrast to her own small but soft frame.<br/><br/>As she was more or less without breasts and had racial restrictions on equipment and clothing, Reign had opted out of wearing tops to begin with, instead quite proud and beyond comfortable parading around with little to no visible equipment and piercings in everything but her nose and her downstairs. Her tongue had a long bar through its center, and her ears, nipples, bellybutton, and even the base of her tail had studs and rings in them. Her hair was long and was even darker than her dusky complexion, offset with a blue hue to her horns and her tail. This cerulean shade had extended even to her eyes, though none of these things took away from her youthful features in the least. Her bare feet were sweeping back and forth along the bottom of the seat, and the tip of her tail was lashing, not unlike that of a slighted housecat.<br/><br/>"Maybe YOU should join in the confessions, ya' fat bag of sand." the snort mused next, followed by the light<em>clink</em>of a pierced tongue against the rim of her large cup. Sometimes, talking shit was the best way to show you cared, and this was especially true of someone as<strong>foul</strong>as Reign.