<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/SBhvOGQ.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Ember (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=312830.msg15158800#msg15158800)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Barrack Inhabitants<br/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">A fine establishment indeed - the steadfast walls ornately detailed, abundant with dark mahogany hues to contrast the stark reds and purples: something that, in of itself, spoke great volumes of brilliance and manifest destiny, Ember hunkered low in one of the gloomy corner booths. Similarly, the splendid ballad performed by the fair maiden within held its own unique brand of brilliance. Irresistibly sweet, yet laced with grief upon silver thread, carried aloft by slender fingers. It was a melody, pure and piercing, a melody that purred to the soul – a melody that had enraptured the bar as if struck by a cupid’s arrow.<br/><br/>Or perhaps she was imagining it all? Ember had returned victorious from a match some hours ago, the heavy coin pouch on the table telling a silent tale of heroism and obstacles overcome, yet her shameless drowning in mead told volumes of a mind under the influence of a torrential storm. The comfort of alcohol was not a coping mechanism Ember indulged in often, but she felt a strange urgency to forget what had transpired in the arena. So besotted was the lady in fact, that she had passed out right then and there on the table, thin tendrils of smoke twisting from her baking body, forming curls in the gloom. Her physique was evidently hot enough to send cinders floating skyward in sparkling vortexes, wavering locks of red-hot hair drawing molten streaks across the surrounding furniture.<br/><br/>As Ember muttered breathlessly in her drunken slur, she could tell that this exchange would be something that haunted her for weeks - a lucid daydream from which there was no escape. Even still, she had found herself worryingly willing and all too eager to get dumpsterloads of delicious seed force-fucked into her heavenly holes, no strings attached - a few scattered dregs still lingering about her flustered mouth. Puzzling her emotions, she couldn’t quite figure out whether foul play had been involved, or if she had absent-mindedly resolved herself to a perverse fate much worse.<br/><br/>Either way, the rising tension of rambunctious ruminations and boisterous babbling was rousing her from her inebriated slumber, slowly, but surely.<br/></div>