<div class="floatright">(https://mfiles.alphacoders.com/402/402340.jpg)</div><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/db/e9/cf/dbe9cf5fe0e93ceb0b2c4707e6679664--character-portraits-character-ideas.jpg)</div><br/>Who<em>would</em>take them on? It was a good question and at one point, Sophia would have laughed and the girls would have taken their pick. As it was, fake stories and vial rumors had spread pretty widely around Wands and it had narrowed down their pool of possible... suitors to nothing. The question wasn't so easily answered now as Sophia twisted in her chair, wincing as what would be an inevitable bruise tugged at her stomach. She cast her tired and disheartened violet eyes around the tavern, doing her best to avoid the prepubescent teens splitting their hoard of silver between them. There had to be a better option than the kids, right? Course, she was pretty sure she'd die of shame having to ask them so it would solve her problem one way or another.<br/><br/>There was a loud bang of wood on wood as the door to the kitchens below collided with the moldy oak walls and Sophie jumped in her stool then hissed at the bone-deep pain. The bright light from the roaring open fire behind burned its way across the musty and mostly dark room, making her squint against its glowing onslaught. It reached its long finger across the floor and she followed its path as if it was leading her... pointing her to their very answer. Their salvation, even.<br/><br/>There, at the bar, his broad shoulders bathed in the golden amber light of the heavens was their answer. The patches of polished metal around his mostly leather clothing made him glimmer as he leaned heavily on the counter. Even from this distances his physical prowess was hard to mask. He looked strong. Strong and...  Sophia leaned unapologetically far back, craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of his profile. Nope, definitely not someone from Wands. Tough, old, and by the looks of it, a seasoned warrior, or at least a fighter of some sort.<br/>"Les..."<br/><br/>She hissed, having failed to notice her partner had already tipped back her tankard for a long and well-earned swallow of ale.<br/><br/>"Les!"<br/><br/>She tried again, too afraid to take her eyes off of the grizzled looking guy for a second as if the moment the door shut and her beacon of light snuffed out she would lose him in the dank darkness of their own misfortune. She groped blindly behind her for a hand or an elbow or something.<br/><br/>"Do you see him? Les?!"<br/><br/>Finally, she made contact and the soft, full globe of the redhead's youthful bouncy breast sank between her fingers.<br/><br/>The ale quenched her dry throat enough that it was no longer a pain to simply swallow. Lesniya could hear Sophie call out for her, but just one more drop of the liquid amber was what she needed. It soothed her cracked lips and…<br/><br/>“WHAT?!”<br/><br/>She finally cracked out as the raven-haired woman’s hand made contact with her tit. The word wasn’t as loud as she had tried to make it. In fact, it stuck in her throat slightly and Les started coughing a bit to clear it up. What she didn’t do was swat Soph’s fingers from her form. It was as if she didn’t mind the woman’s hand on her breasts. It was through a ragged, dirty tunic, but that made little difference at the moment. Les leaned into the hold, trying to see where Sophia’s eyes were trained. She had to squint her own to make out the form. Her brow furrowed almost comically for a moment.<br/><br/>When she spoke, her voice was still harsh and cracked, the whisper softening as the words spilled out in a hurry. “Who-who is that?? Does he have a<em>Thunderbore</em>hide tunic on?? Oh gods, Soph, do you see the size of his sword?!”<br/><br/>It didn't register at first until she felt the soft perky globes gently swell up around her digits that Sophia had, as it turned out, not found an elbow. But it didn't matter because clearly Les had spotted the intended target. She released her grasp upon her partner's hefty chest, letting her tender and scratched palm  slap down onto the scrubbed wooden surface of the table they shared.<br/><br/>It never failed to impress the youngest Evenember, just how keen those emerald eyes of Lesniya's turned out to be. She spotted the quality of his tunic at once and she hadn't even noticed the impressive girth of the sword the man had tucked at his hip.<br/><br/>"Can he  actually swing that sucker out and around or is it just for show, ya think?" She asked, leaning around again to inspect the musculature of his arms in the shitty light of the filthy tavern lanterns.<br/><br/>“The only way to find out for sure is to get him into action” Lesniya said in response to Sophia’s query. “But his boots look travel-worn. And his arms could be mistaken for tree limbs…”<br/><br/>With a flash of wide eyes, Lesniya snapped her fingers in Sophia’s direction quickly. The warrior with the sizeable sword was not turned in their general direction. Instead his shoulders were decidedly hunched and only his profile was in view. As if he was trying to keep his face from the light. “Soph… Soph…” Lesniya hissed. “Give me something… your… give me your small boot.”<br/><br/>“What? Why??” The confusion on the dark-haired woman’s face was evident as she turned back around to face the adopted Evenember daughter swiftly clearing their tankards to the side. Reaching forward, Lesniya tucked and tugged on Sophia’s bodice and tunic to bring her ample cleavage into prime view, her tone imperative. “<em>Whist! </em>Your. SHOE. WOMAN.”<br/><br/>While Sophia maneuvered the boot off, Les kept an eye on their intended target. He took another draw from his tankard, apparently oblivious to what was about to cross his path. Maybe their fate wasn’t sealed after all. Starvation and death wasn’t imminent as long as they could pull off just one more....<br/><br/>Lesniya stretched her hand out, waiting for the other woman’s shoe. This was a desperate effort, but this was also a desperate time for the women. And Les was willing to try almost anything to help them survive.<br/><br/>The heel of Sohpia’s small boot landed in her palm and without another thought, Lesniya leaned to the side, cocked her arm back and let the muddy, leather-soled footwear sail through the air.<br/><br/>“No, what the hell…”.<br/><br/>Too late as Sophia’s purply blue eyes followed the earth splattered shoe as it sailed through the air. Please don’t hit him, please don’t hit him she thought furiously to herself but as the boot made contact with the side of the man’s broad shoulder, smearing mud and bits of grass on what was likely a tunic they couldn’t hope to afford. The reluctant priestess groaned audibly.<br/><br/>She turned to flash a glare over her shoulder only to find that Les was now cowering, hiding behind her and looking up with amused and apologetic eyes.<br/><br/>The choice words the woman had for her childhood friend danced at the back of her throat as she turned to face the now assaulted warrior they had hoped to subtlety get the attention of.<br/><br/>“Excuse me, uhh…. Sir” She began, hearing her voice so thick with discomfort she might as well pick it up and hurdle it at him as well.<br/><br/>“I… dropped my shoe.”<br/><br/>Lame. So fucking lame… there was no way this was gonna work.<br/><br/><br/>