<em>The hamatula continues to shiver a little, even after the orgasm, powerful as it is, eventually dies out, leaving Atelia's whole hand damp and sticky with the juices. The spines about Atelia's hand, however, are soft, rather than sharp, perhaps reflexively, preventing Reaver's mistress from being harmed by them. The liquid is simultaneously sweet and bitter, almost like a warm dark chocolate, only sharper, with an aftertaste that burns pleasantly on the tongue. Still, though, if she wants to clean her palette, there still is the glass of Celestial snow water she hasn't touched yet. For her part, though her cheeks now have the slightly red hue of embarrassment about them, Reaver seems almost catlike in her afterglow, more languid and fluid than before in her movements, seeming less rigid and tense by far as she sips at what remains of her liquid pain slowly, letting herself ride the mix of pain and pleasure at a more leisurely pace, rather than experience the greater extremes she was earlier. Her telepathic voice is soft, a bare murmur in the back of Atelia's mind, clearly meant to be personal and not heard by either of the demons present.<br/><br/>"Thank you, mistress."<br/><br/>Nightshade pouts a little at the archivist, but, twirling a lock of lavender hair about her finger coyly, asks with a feigned wide-eyed-school-girl look.<br/><br/>"Maybe next time?"<br/><br/>The celestial laughs at Nightshade's impetuousness, smiling almost fondly at her before looking back to Atelia.<br/><br/>"I shall as well, Lady Atelia. Again, I thank you for coming here and agreeing to this. My best wishes towards you and yours, in this endeavor and beyond."</em>