<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/>By the time Ryst finally arrived, La’ora’s mead was mostly finished and sat perspiring on the side-table, its dark bottle glinting an off-shade of green from the light. She was feeling just the softest edges of a buzz, not exactly known for her tolerance of alcohol, but at least most of her frustrations had melted away with the warmth spreading through her body. A lazy smile greeted her friend, feeling far more relaxed now that her friend was here. “And Kitty-Cat calls me pet? Funny, you don’t see tiny, stray humans running around, chasing mice and eating rats.” With the liquid grace that was purely La’ora, she stood to her feet, sighing in her attempt to relax her shoulders, the tension in them never completely gone.<br/><br/>“Have you any clue how difficult it is to push for information these days? The roads are getting worse, the days needed to travel to one farm to the next town is<em>exhausting</em>and because of the damn dead who don’t remain dead, my prices have increased nearly thirty percent.” The thief stopped just before the Khajiit, nimble fingers making quick work of the assorted buckles and clasps. “What’s worse; one of my feelers was killed on his way back home to us from Whiterun by a damned Giant.” She tugged the cloak carefully away, but tossed it over her previously-occupied chair with a frustrated growl. “I’ll never know what that bloke had to tell me now, and it’s nagging at me like a fly around a drunk.”<br/><br/>It was unlikely that the man, Shar, had all the answers. It was unlikely that the gods were that cruel to her, despite their pleasure at dangling sweet carrots there in front of her nose. Ryst’s top came next, giving La’ora pause so that she may run her fingers through that soft fur, up along the woman’s ribcage, just under the cloth that covered her breasts. “I suppose I’ll have to go to Whiterun now, less my curiosity never seize.” The fingers began to walk up slowly, up along Ryst’s ribs once more, stopping so that they might feather over her collar bone. She ached to feel all of that soft fur gliding across her own skin once again.