Quinta, encouraged by Fiera's response, embraces the woman outright and-- showing the power in her taut, trained body-- eases Fiera down to the soft grass and sandy ground with her.  Her kisses grow wilder, more exploratory, and seek out Fiera's mouth for hot, warm kisses as the elf joins her, prone, on the grass.  Positioning between Fiera's crouched, splayed thighs, she strokes her body's length up the elf's pale flesh and positions herself atop her.  Her hands slip between their hips and fan across the elf's hairless mound, stroking the outer edges and easing along the glistening-damp flesh protected there.  She begins ministering to the elven woman's sex, her strong fingers gentle and exploring at first, then assured-- providing Fiera the firm, pleasing touches that speak from understanding of desires, mutual and in need of sating.<br/><br/>Vash'ti urges Alphonse to the grass as well, tugging gently at the halfling's hips and flanks to urge him to join her-- if he complies, he finds himself laying alongside Fiera, his erection skyward and throbbing as the woman's burning skin covers his own, her mouth leading a sparking trail that sets the rest of him ablaze with her.  Vash'ti's mouth covers his, then works a slow and fiery trail down the ridge of his chest and stomach, her black hair trailing behind like a cool breeze after the summer sun of her kisses.  For a moment, she cups his length and his sac, as if admiring or sizing him up, before her mouth encircles it-- her black eyes are like the void that fills his mind, and he can feel her staring at him-- into him through his eyes-- as she wraps her full, hot lips and wet-velvet tongue around the engorged head of his cock.  She swallows once, making a humming purr of satisfaction, then engulfs his full length before easing her head back to draw her mouth to his tip.  She does this again, then again, then lets him pop free so she can lap at the underside, down the shaft's side, and draw his sack into her mouth for a lapping series of kisses.<br/><br/>There is a rustling and scrambling sound from the water's edge as Hallen-- or whatever she has become for the moment-- disappears into the undergrowth, her nose working fiercely.  Vash'ti seems to pay no mind at all, concerned only with their mutual efforts, and soon the only sound is the rustling of a soft breeze and the murmurs and cries of lovemaking in this strange glade.<br/><br/>*<br/>(( For those interested in continuing this little erotic-writing exercise... please join me at http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=117925.0#new (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=117925.0#new)))<br/>*<br/><br/>Darkness gives way to light, then heat-- they each awaken, close upon each other's heels, to find themselves in unrecognized surroundings.  There is some soreness-- not the pain of battle, but rather the satisfied ache of long work's recovery.  It is twilight-- or pre-dawn-- and the air is cool on their naked skin.  Stars still wink down, and the ground beneath their bare bodies is wet with last nigth's rain.  Frogs and cicadas sing persistently, and they can make out the distant rumble of thunder many miles off.  They are famished, spent... they can smell sex on each others' skin.  They are unwounded, but aware of the exhaustion and lingering soreness of a long night... the details, they still recall-- but all is fuzzy, like some fever-dream, lingering in pieces though their order is lost.<br/><br/>They are in the cane fields, near Hallen's home.  Fiera's keen elven vision picks out small heaps of belongings near where they lay in a ring, their feet touching.  Each pile is, apparently, each person's things-- sorted and clean, piled in a basket woven from reeds... Quinta's armor and blade overfills the basket, but are propped up at its side, polished and gleaming.  Each also contains something it did not moments before... In Alphonse's, there is a leather belt, as wide as his hand, made of alligator leather worked by expert hands and set off by gleaming brass fittings.  In Fiera's, a pile of delicate silver chain, all tarnish polished from its links-- spread out, she can tell it is a head dress of some sort, the fashion of which she may recall depicted in books of the Eastern Empires' court-going ladies.   In Quinta's, a brass amulet, depicting an elongated figure of a lion or tiger, dangling from a steel loop of chain.