The Infernal Itch Ch. 06

The werewolf's tongue licked her leg, sampling the dried fluids there. Ardour's thighs were coated with a night's worth of its prodigious spend, which had run from her in rivulets when the invading knot had finally been withdrawn. She had been barely conscious at that point and she had drifted in and out of sleep between then and now.

The tongue dabbed away diligently at the cloyed sticky mess, its progress agonisingly slow and meticulous as it worked up her right thigh and then switched over to her left to repeat its efforts there. Was the creature cleaning her now? How long had she been unconscious?

Ardour tried to open her eyes but found them glued shut with either sleep gunk or something worse. She suspected it might be her own cum. Embarrassing. Her arms were too tired to move yet, so she had to live with it.

The tongue finished finally with her legs. She thought she heard a splash of water, then it came back to probe at her sex. Her balls were sticky, prickly, and felt... bruised, which must have been from the pummelling they'd taken from the werewolf's own weighty sack. That thought sent a shudder through her, though she couldn't have said whether it was revulsion or guilty excitement.

At least this new treatment was much gentler, wetting and cleaning in small dabbing motions, almost reverential. Her hot irritated flesh practically hissed under the cooling wetness. Her cock was beginning to stir by the time it was reached and it swelled under the ministrations, lengthening such that each lick up from the bottom of the shaft had to travel a little further to soothe her irritated flesh. Ardour tried to groan in relief, but found her dry lips glued together as well. She was a mess.

The tongue went away again for a while, apparently unwilling to linger on her cock, then came back to seek out the dried fluids on her belly. There was less mess here and it was all her own spend rather than the werewolf's incredible contribution but it still took its time moving up her flat stomach, bathing her thoroughly. Her breasts were aching in anticipation by the time it reached them but she found herself almost disappointed by the tenderness of the cleaning, light delicate dabs that did not dwell over-long. Her swollen nipples, clean enough but practically begging for attention, were avoided.

Ardour tried to stir, but her limbs were still too tired to move much. Her legs felt like dead weight, she wasn't sure if she could imagine ever walking again after the bending, stretching and pummelling the werewolf had given her lower body last night. But now it delicately and diligently cleaned her hands, her forearms, her shoulders, then her collarbone.

The tongue went away again and there was another mysterious splash. It reappeared between her legs, cold and soaking wet, dabbing at her abused and inflamed entrance. It was unexpected enough that she gasped, lips cracking painfully as they finally unglued from each other. She tried to move her legs to shuffle away from the intruding tongue but they just shook impotently.

Her cock was hard, her skin flushed and breathing rapid. The Itch was smoldering within her again, awakening from its briefly satiated sleep. But she didn't want this, did she? Zarel's monstrous attentions had left her battered and broken. Another round might finish her off.

Ardour wetted her dry lips and summoned up a protest. A plea.

"No more..." her voice was hoarse and her throat parched. "Please..."

The tongue withdrew at once. There was movement, more sounds of splashing water. She pictured the werewolf repositioning itself, ready to take her again.

Something cool and damp dabbed at her eyelids, cleaning away the sticky mess gluing them closed. Bleary red eyes opened, then widened in recognition. Ardour managed a huffing sigh of relief.

"Sorry, I didn't think you'd wake up yet."

Aavi was there, holding a sponge dripping with clean water. He was illuminated by the early morning sunlight slanting in sideways through the open door, giving his pale features a golden cast. Ardour felt a strange tug at her breast, an ache that was not the Itch. He really was very beautiful.

He was blushing now. She wondered if he'd read her guileless expression, then remembered the rather intimate sponge bath he'd been delivering while she 'slept'. Her hard cock was pointing right up at him, accusing. She only realised they'd been staring at each other for too long when he wrenched his gaze away and started noisily searching through his pack.

"Here..." Aavi produced a waterskin and held it to her lips, gently lifting her head to help her drink.

The water was the slightly brackish stuff from the well outside, but right then it tasted like the purest spring. Ardour drank deeply, washing away the dust and dryness of her night on the sandy stone floor. She could feel the cool morning air now too. It was still early, but she must have slept for a good few hours. She wondered where the werewolf had gone.

Finally the water was all gone. Aavi's hand lingered under her head, making for a better pillow than the unyielding floor. He took up the sponge again.

"Let me finish cleaning you up?"

It had the tone of a question, so she nodded as best she could. While he worked on cleaning the dirt, sweat and dried seed from her face, Ardour took stock of her condition. Her back and neck ached from lying on the hard ground for hours. Her limbs were still leaden and weak. Her ass throbbed, raw and sore and hot from the werewolf's violation. Her skin was prickly and a little feverish, particularly where the creature's cursed seed had dried.

She should have felt much worse, though. She wasn't bruised enough, nothing was bleeding. Strangely, she couldn't feel the terrible itching heat of the endless corrupting cum that the Itch-crazed werewolf had rutted into her for hours.

"Did you..." her voice was a little stronger now, though her sleepy mind was struggling to supply the words, "... do something?"

"I healed you," Aavi confirmed quietly, "and purged what I could."

He'd done something similar for her before when he'd made that promise, his paladin oath. But this seemed stronger, more practiced.

"Huh..."

Ardour lay still and let him fuss over her for a bit, enjoying the cool damp sponge. Eventually he was finished and she stirred enough to look around the room. They were alone.

"Where's Zarel?"

"I don't know." There was an odd edge to Aavi's voice that she couldn't quite interpret. "She left before dawn."

"You didn't follow her." It was a statement, but also a question.

"No, I didn't." Was he angry? Frustrated? Why?

"Aavi, what-" she began, but he cut her off.

"I'm sorry." He let out a shaky sigh and continued. "I'm sorry I got you into this. I'm sorry about what she did to you, I don't know why..."

He trailed off for a moment, not noticing Ardour's uncomprehending stare, then pressed on. It sounded a bit stiff, like he'd been rehearsing in his head.

"I'm sorry I didn't help until Zarel left. And I'm sorry she ran off and left me to say all this..."

Aavi stopped again, finally noticing the baffled look on Ardour's face. Suddenly she wasn't enjoying his hand cradling her head. She hauled herself up to a sitting position with a groan, putting some distance between them.

"What did she do?"

Her tone was more provocative than she intended. Ardour could see he was unbalanced by the question.

"Well... she raped you..." Aavi's distaste for the word was clear, even as he projected his usual compassion and sympathy. For once, it wasn't comforting.

"Did she..."

Where to even begin with this? It was a stark reminder that the Abbey boy lived in a very different world than hers.

Ardour shuffled back to rest against a wall and considered. Had she wanted to get fucked by an eight foot tall werewolf with a dick the size of her own forearm? Not particularly at first. But she'd been getting into the idea by the time the fucking actually started, and she'd certainly managed her own share of climaxes. Plus the Itch had a way of making this type of thing ok - once the lust descended it didn't much care who you were fucking or how, a small mercy maybe.

And she'd been grappling the werewolf to protect Aavi, letting Zarel fuck her instead was a good distraction and kept her away from him. Ardour would rather think of that as something she'd had a say in, a good tactical choice. Not something that had been done to her.

And Zarel was a werewolf under the full moon, probably her first time transforming, and she probably hadn't even known it was coming. Lycanthropes were notoriously wild when the full moon came - it was also the reason why Ardour and Toro avoided home for three days each month. And she had the Itch, which by definition made her insatiably, world-endingly, horny. The tiefling certainly knew what that was like.

So no hard feelings then? Sort of. She'd see how angry she felt when she next saw the moody Seraph.

How the fuck to explain any of that to Aavi? Ardour sighed and rubbed her temple.

"It's ok. She had the Itch. Not her fault what it made her do."

Aavi looked very tired now that she studied him more closely. She guessed he'd been up all night, forced to watch and listen to events but incapable of intervening. Something much worse could have happened if he tried.

"You don't have to say that just because she's my friend," he offered at last. He didn't get it, but how could he?

"You don't know what it's like. It doesn't give you much choice, once it starts."

"You've made choices," Aavi said, very softly, "we've spent hours together and you haven't... attacked me."

"Yes, well..."

Ardour briefly considered a confession about how much she had wanted to. The level of self-control required to not. But it was implied wasn't it? He wasn't that naive. And besides, this conversation was the worst mood-killer she'd ever come across.

"Just... believe me that it's hard, ok?" she completed the thought, and to her relief he nodded.

"Ok. I do. Of course."

There was another awkward pause as he cast about for any further unseen pitfalls, then spoke again, voice quiet and sincere.

"Thank you for saving me, Ardour."

She closed her eyes and smiled weakly. That was more like it.

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They spent the morning napping uncomfortably in the relative safety of the bell tower and eating the last of Aavi's supplies.

Ardour's clothes were ruined, which was an inconvenience now but would become a real problem in the chill desert night. She didn't dare go home for replacements during the remaining two days of the full moon - which of course interested Aavi and led to an explanation of the pros and cons of renting a room from a drow werespider. She had no intention of ever taking him there anyway, even in her normal state Sivir was too dangerous to be trusted with the untainted human.

Aavi apparently wanted a base in the city, somewhere he could stay overnight safely if making it back to the Abbey wasn't an option. It was naive and foolish, but she found it hard to tell him that. He was so different from the nervous novice she'd first encountered, suddenly so driven. But safe places to live were hard to come by in the crumbling and dangerous metropolis, Ardour had no idea where to even start looking for somewhere safe enough to put someone as precious as Aavi.

They spent a few hours searching for Zarel - figuring she at least might be more in control during the daytime - but couldn't find her. Finally they retreated back to the tower, sweating and scorched from the midday sun.

"I'll go back to the Abbey for more food," Aavi decided, "and more coins."

"More coins?" Ardour asked, raising an eyebrow. "Vyx wasn't serious about his rates..."

"No, but we don't use money in the Abbey, it just sits in the vaults. You need clothes, we both need supplies. Now I know there are merchants here..." He trailed off thoughtfully and looked at Ardour for confirmation. "There are... normal types of merchants, right? I thought I saw some in the market we went through."

She nodded with a rueful grin. Aavi didn't know what he was letting himself in for, if he wanted to go shopping.

"Yes. Actually that was what I was planning, when you said you wanted to learn about the city. I was going to take you to the Midnight Market for some sightseeing."

Very dangerous sightseeing if anyone realised that he was untainted, but they'd gotten away with it so far.

"... I don't have any money though," she added.

The disclosure was strangely embarrassing. But Aavi seemed happy to overlook her scruffy, smelly, oversexed and corrupted nature after all, so surely he wouldn't think she was a deadbeat just for being penniless in the post-apocalypse?

He gave her a reassuring smile that made her breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'll pay. Meet back here in the evening?"

"It's a date."

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That left Ardour with an afternoon to kill.

She pumped a bucketful of the muddy well water for a second bath, then set about liberally salving herself with the aloe vera stuff from Aavi's medical supplies. The creamy white cactus goop had done nothing to help with the magical irritation caused by the Itch, but it was cooling and soothing for everything else. Her much-abused butt felt a lot better afterward.

Back in the belfry, Ardour found herself naked and shiny and at a loose end. She lay on the wooden floorboards using her pack for a pillow, weighing up her options between another nap and some fun-but-fruitless stroking with the remaining salve. Her mind turned to Aavi of course, as she idly played with herself and dozed.

Soon she had constructed an unlikely daydream involving a terrible burn to her poor sex (unlikely as it was, given her dick was as fire resistant as the rest of her tiefling form) that required the cute healer boy to salve her. His gentle fingers were just reaching for her, shiny with healing lotion, when the ladder squeaked.

A very sunburned redhead appeared through the floor hatch a moment later, eyes widening as they came level with her glistening grey dick. Ardour groaned inwardly, she had to stop getting caught like this.

To Zarel's credit, she didn't hesitate long before pulling herself up through the hatch to sit on its edge, legs dangling. The pose unwittingly mimicked Aavi's the first time he'd climbed up here.

"Ardour."

The Seraph's gaze took her in, flicked about the room, then returned to linger on her cock. Her pink tongue moistened her dry lips. She was naked too, Ardour saw, with just a few tatters of clothing clinging to her waist. She must have destroyed her clothes in the transformation.

"Zarel."

Ardour returned her acknowledgement but didn't move from her snoozing spot. Whatever the woman wanted, she could tell from her demeanour that it wasn't to hurt her. Actually she looked in a bad way, the fair skin of her shoulders and cheeks was an angry sunburned red and her expression was haunted.

"Is he here? Is he ok?" She had her priorities straight, then. Aavi first, her new corrupted acquaintance later.

Ardour shook her head. "Went back to the Abbey for food."

The redhead nodded and her stomach rumbled as if on cue. "Good... and he's ok? He didn't get hurt?"

"He didn't get hurt." Ardour quirked an eyebrow pointedly, though it was hard to be arch while still idly stroking herself.

Zarel met her gaze for a half-second, then looked away again. She had that usual surly, defiant look of hers. The tiefling thought she could see the guilt though.

"Sorry," she grunted at last.

"Don't mention it," it wasn't quite sarcasm, but neither was it actual forgiveness.

The Seraph pulled her legs up through the trapdoor and shuffled backward to lean against the wall, grimacing as her burned shoulders scraped the stone bricks. Her eyes were on Ardour's nakedness again, though she seemed determined not to be the first to mention it.

"You ok?" Ardour asked, then waggled the mostly empty pot of salve with her free hand. "Aavi left me this, it's good for burns."

"Does he know what you're doing with it?" Zarel's tone was reproachful, but the tiefling ignored it. Both of them had the Itch, she didn't need to point out.

"I'm sure he won't mind," she opined, deliberately squeezing herself on the next stroke to get a distinct schlicking noise from the ersatz lubricant. "Do you want it?"

The Seraph's lip actually curled, to Ardour's amusement, but she nodded a moment later. It must have been a painful sunburn. "Actually yes. Give it here."

"Come and get it."

Ardour held the pot out but didn't rise, pretending to be too busy stroking herself. She didn't know exactly why she was winding Zarel up, but couldn't bring herself to stop either.

"Disgusting." Zarel scooted close enough to take it from her, Ardour actually felt the shudder that ran through her when their fingers touched.

"Well, we all look worse in the cold light of day," Ardour taunted. That one made Zarel's nostrils flare dangerously.

"You're a degenerate," she shot back as she retreated and began dabbing soothing cream on her reddened flesh.

"Mmm-hmm." Ardour closed her eyes, not rising to that one. Instead she slowly increased her pace, deliberately making each stroke as noisy as she could.

"Disgusting," Zarel said again, "do you really have no self-control?"

"None left..." Time to really poke the bear.

"What do you mean?" the human asked at once, suspicious.

"Spent all morning with him," she let out a little huffing sigh of arousal, which wasn't entirely faked.

"With Aavi! You didn't..."

Ardour wished she could see the woman's face, but she was committed to her careless, eyes-closed, jerk off posture.

"Of course not." Schlick, shlick. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, time to yank Zarel's chain. "Wanted to though. You understand, right?"

"No!" A gasp. Ardour could imagine her guilty expression. "I would never."

"Huh," the tiefling grunted, hips bucking. There was no chance the Itch would let her make herself cum all alone, but the self-pleasure felt good at least. Dumb idea as it was. "Last night it sort of seemed like..."

"That was the curse! Both curses..." Zarel's breathing sounded quicker for some reason.

"Were-dick doing the talking?"

"Y-yeah. I guess." Aha. She'd admit to a libido of sorts then. "That's gone. I'm ok now."

Was she really? Ardour caught a whiff of feminine arousal, faint but present.

"So you just wanted his butt?"

"What?! What do you mean by that?" Zarel sounded scandalised, of course. This was a good way to waste an afternoon, better than napping.

"Well, he's got a great butt from what I've seen. Tight, grabbable," the tiefling gave her sex a lewd squeeze to illustrate. "Fuckable, probably."

Zarel made a noise somewhere between pained and plaintive. Ardour pressed on quickly.

"But maybe you've lost interest now you've got nothing to fuck it with?"

"Shush, you're so gross!" the human protested.

Ardour did like Aavi, of course. She probably wouldn't say such lewd things to his face, but saying it to wind up Zarel felt like fair game.

"I'm just hot-blooded," Ardour shrugged vaguely, eyes still firmly shut. She thought she could hear a slick sound that wasn't lotion now and strained her ears to follow it. "Can't help that he's so pretty..."

"He is but he's not for you." Zarel's breath caught strangely. Definitely pleasuring herself as well, the tiefling judged. "O-or anyone. He's pure."

"But I can say it can't I? I mean, look at him."

"Y-you never shut up, do you?"

Zarel was definitely touching herself, perhaps trusting in Ardour's apparent disinterest and distraction to disguise it. The tiefling stroked herself just a little faster, making more noise to add to the plausible deniability. It was a fun charade. It felt good, too. Talking this way about Aavi and hearing his friend's flushed responses was hot and each traded sordid statement and scandalised gasp sent little shivers through her skin.

"How can I shut up about that beautiful butt? You wanted it too, before you got distracted with mine."

"You're disgusting. Talk about something else..." her words were breathy from her frantic rubbing. Zarel was really going for it, if the noises were anything to go by.

"How about his lips?" Ardour didn't think she was a poet. She couldn't read, for a start. But she was certainly ready to wax lyrical about the white haired paladin boy.

"W- what about them?" Zarel huffed in frustration, apparently not as happy to jerk all afternoon without result as Ardour had been. "And don't be gross."

"They're very beautiful, no? Very pink, very luscious."

"I hadn't noticed..." Liar.

"Kissable lips," Ardour heard the jealous little intake of breath, "not that I have!"

"Good... you're too disgusting for him."

Ardour rolled her eyes behind their closed lids. You and me both, sister. Still, this was fun and Zarel was into it in an uptight sort of way. Time to push her.

"Good dick sucking lips," Ardour ventured.

There was a stifled moan, swiftly cut-off and replaced with consternation. "Shut up!"

"I'm serious. They're big and soft, a bit pouty..." she squeezed herself again, a strand of pre-cum oozing over her fingers. "They'd feel really good."

"Stop saying stuff like that!"

"Why? Because I'm besmirching his honour or because it'll make you cum?"

"SHUT UP!" Zarel was heated now, but it was a whinier tone than the snarls Ardour was used to. She might have called it bratty, if she dared.

"You can admit he's hot and still be a good friend," she taunted, "you just can't pin him down and squirt all over that gorgeous face."

"Shut up." Zarel stirred. Ardour heard the shuffle of knees on floorboards, as if the human was thinking about coming and shutting her up. But her cock was doing the talking now, and it felt too good to stop.

"I'm saying don't fuck him," she teased, grinning blindly up at nothing. "We'll make a deal. Neither of us plunders that beautiful booty..."

There was a voice in her ear suddenly, dangerous and low. Zarel was right next to her now, full of presence. A werewolf, albeit in human form.

"Shut up, Ardour..."

Her cock pulsed, suddenly so close, but needing more. Her skin prickled uncomfortably at the thought of stopping. The game couldn't end now. The Itch was doing the talking.

"Neither of us fucks our poor sweet Aavi," she half-crooned, half-moaned the name, "until we both-"

A strong hand seized her around the throat, choking off the words and her breath. Ardour's eyes sprang open. Zarel was right there, crouched above her and staring down wild-eyed, her expression caught somewhere between fury and lust. The tiefling felt her skin start to prickle and burn as their curses sang to one another, knowing the human would be feeling it too.

Ardour couldn't speak but she didn't need to. The Seraph just needed a tiny push, an excuse. Ardour mouthed the word again, the unwitting object of their strange rivalry. "Aavi~"

Zarel's roar wouldn't have been out of place in her werewolf form. She reared up and swung a knee over the tiefling's face, barely missing her nose, before planting it on the floor beside her ear. Ardour's world went dark again as the fighter's sex descended on her face like a hammer to an anvil, and would have squashed her into the floor if not for her backpack-turned-pillow.

"Take his name out of your mouth," the Seraph huffed, her voice now sounding distant and muffled.

Ardour was being squished hard enough to hurt, but loving every minute of it. The human was heavier than her fairly compact frame belied, and all of it was strong fighter muscle. Right now those muscles were being used to buck and hump against her face, hard enough to hurt but hot enough that she was finding it hard to protest.

The puffy engorged folds of Zarel's sex, slick with her arousal, dragged over Ardour's face and drenched her features. The hard ridge of her mons battered against the tiefling's nose and chin, while short soft hairs seemed to fill her mouth every time she tried to take a breath. Not that she got many breaths - Zarel was facing down her body and still had a hand on her throat, mostly using it for balance but usually remembering to squeeze down too. Ardour felt distinctly lightheaded.

She'd eaten pussy before of course. But it was usually Sivir, who was prim, proper and possessed of an elven grace and delicateness that extended even to her small sex. Zarel was the opposite, drenched with pungent need and seemingly determined to drown the tiefling in her folds. Ardour stuck out her tongue, as much out of self-preservation as anything, and the redhead found it a moment later, grinding her clit down against it.

She tasted like she needed a bath but Ardour didn't mind. Something about the partial asphyxiation was doing strange things to her brain - each lunging grinding motion of Zarel's sex against her tongue was setting off sympathetic sparks in the head of her cock as if the woman were humping against that instead of her face. She could feel her length twitching and dancing, untouched but somehow feeling it all the same.

"Go on, you foul creature," Zarel had noticed it too, apparently, "get it out of your system..."

This was embarrassing. It wouldn't be her first hands-free orgasm at Zarel's (figurative) hands, but this time she wouldn't even have the excuse of the huge werewolf cock filling her up. She had to hang on. If she got some air she could probably think straighter, get her wires uncrossed...

The fingers around her neck flexed as a shudder ran through the human topping her, apparently enjoying this as much as she was, and Ardour managed to snatch a quick gasping breath. She fought back and succeeded in capturing Zarel's clit between her lips, sucking down hard and lashing it with the tip of her tongue. Each motion still sent waves of pleasure through the head of her cock, as if she was licking herself instead. She couldn't hold out much longer.

The Seraph bucked and gasped, grip weakening for just a second, then coming back as strong as iron. Knees squeezed in on either side of Ardour's head, giving her nowhere to go. Zarel wrenched herself free with an effort that made them both gasp, then returned to humping her whole face with a vengeance. Ardour found it wasn't just her tongue now - her lips, her cheeks, even her nose were firing off confusing pleasure signals in other parts of her body.

Zarel snarled with frustration, clearly close to her own peak as well, but determined to push the impertinent tiefling to her more humiliating climax first. Strong fingers gave her one last chance to breathe, then locked tight.

"No more air..." she groaned, squeezing her legs tighter, "... until you get those awful lewd thoughts for him out of your head."

Ardour couldn't fight it any more, but neither could she even control the pace or feel of the bizarre climax that washed through her. She thrust up at the air impotently, contacting nothing but still feeling the transmitted touches from elsewhere in her body. If she had been in control she would have been burying herself deep inside someone, a pussy, or even the palm of her hand, feeling it clench around her. Instead it was like being tickled by a ghost.

She felt the cum splash across her belly, though it oozed rather than surged. Had she truly even climaxed? The pleasure felt weak, distant.

Above her, Zarel was definitely climaxing. The woman's body shook and rocked, alternately lifting off her and then squelching back down against her face to grind some more. Thick and sticky juices coated Ardour, tingling slightly. It was a surprisingly mute orgasm, no werewolf roar, just desperate panting and the lewd sounds of slick pussy on captive flesh. It seemed Zarel still couldn't quite let go around her.

Ardour was feeling cheated, even as her vision greyed and her thoughts began to blur from the lack of air. Was this it? Despite her attempts to hide it the human was clearly having a huge body-shaking orgasm, while she was just getting this disappointed reflected tingle in her groin, barely a release. Then Zarel's weakened fingers abruptly slipped free of her throat, blood and air came rushing back to her brain in a great sweet wave, and she saw stars.

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Her third bath of the day had about as much grit as water, leaving Ardour worried about the state of their well. Zarel watched, composed and considerably less messy, from a safe distance as she dumped the water over her head anyway and washed off the evidence of their little discussion. The Seraph's demeanour wasn't exactly friendly, but the air seemed a bit clearer between them now. Ardour had the feeling a pecking order might have just been established, much to her amused chagrin.

"So..." she ventured, testing the waters, "that happened. Again."

"Full moon," grunted the redhead, "at least I hope it's the full moon and I'm not addled like this forever."

Ok, thought Ardour, so it's not like you like me or anything...

"You'll get used to it," the tiefling reassured her, "but for now... are you leaving before the moonrise?"

"Yes. I was hoping to speak to Aavi but it's risky waiting for him. I should get far away."

Ardour didn't have to glance at her to see the pained expression on Zarel's face. Having to run away from your friends probably didn't feel good.

"I wanted to suggest something. Can you tell him instead?"

A modicum of trust, at least. That was good. Ardour nodded.

"I went back to where we were ambushed to look around. The books we'd picked up from the library we visited were all gone."

Zarel gave her a significant look. Ardour found she didn't follow, of course. The human read her blank expression and sighed.

"I know the rescue party didn't take them, I was listening. And we were ambushed coming back from a library we hardly ever visit, the first time in years that anything like that has happened."

Ok. She sort of followed.

"You think someone didn't want your priest reading books? Doesn't he have his own?"

The only books Ardour had ever seen belonged to people like Vyx and Sivir, who hoarded relatively tiny collections that they guarded jealously. Each dusty manuscript looked much the same as the next to her untrained eye and she'd never felt much curiosity about what they said.

"Maybe they didn't want us reading those specific books," Zarel pressed, "do you see? They could have something important in them. Something a devil doesn't want us to have."

Well that was interesting at least. Ardour nodded again.

"So what kind of books were they? Maybe we can find them, or find more like them."

She saw Zarel falter a little. The human sighed and rubbed her temple.

"Well, they were about architecture, temples mostly I think. And gardening. Drainage."

Ardour squinted. "So not curse-breaking, then? Or cures for magical diseases... Important stuff for Aavi's oath?"

"No, but..." Zarel sounded like she was grasping at straws, "what if Kaidus was being subtle? Trying to read around something that's been covered up?"

Ardour wanted to scorn her, but then she'd never read a book in her life. Maybe books about gardening just did sometimes feature antidotes for magical plagues? She could tell their paladin at least, see what he thought of it.

"I'll give you directions to the library," Zarel said, reading her thoughtful silence as assent, "just don't go there tonight..."

Ardour gave her a quizzical look, waiting for an explanation. When it came it was earnest and sheepish in equal measure, the redheaded fighter bashfully avoiding her gaze in a way that was almost endearing.

"I don't want to know where you two are," she explained, "just in case moon-me gets any ideas..."

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"I like it," Aavi confided, as they walked through the moonlit streets toward their second visit to the Midnight Market. "I don't know the significance, but if Zarel thinks it's important then it probably is. That's how quests from the gods work."

Quests from the gods? Ardour didn't think about the world in terms like those, but the paladin of Lyrti clearly did, and she wanted him to succeed. Or at least not get horribly corrupted on her watch.

"Did she say anything else? Did she apologise?" Clearly he wasn't quite over what he'd seen. Ardour supposed it was harder without the Itch.

"We talked... I think we understand each other a bit better now." The significance was lost on Aavi, of course. Probably a good thing.

"Good, I'm glad. I worry about her out here alone." He paused, thoughtful. "Can you help show her the ropes? Like you're showing me?"

Ardour frowned. Yes Zarel was Aavi's friend and yes they'd fucked several times now, but did she want to be saddled with the surly woman? There was friction there, most of it to do with him.

"She's a strong fighter, when she's not a giant werewolf. I don't think she's in too much danger."

Aavi glanced over at her, his expression grave. She could read in that face how much he cared, of course. Any harm befalling Zarel would hurt him. Suddenly she knew that any harm befalling her would too.

"Yes but she's headstrong and doesn't know how it works here. And she's got no home..." he pressed.

Dammit, it was very hard to say no to those big soft golden eyes.

"Ok, I'll try to keep an eye on her."

"Thank you Ardour."

His smile was as radiant as ever and it melted her insides just a little to have it directed at her. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, one pair of boots and one pair of tough tiefling soles treading in step. He'd brought a dark cloak so she wasn't completely naked, which might have attracted a little too much attention at the market.

"Can I ask about your skills?" Aavi said suddenly, perhaps continuing something he'd been thinking. "I know you know people. I've seen your dagger a few times. And you were spying on us while we preached and delivered alms. So are you, a, um, thief?"

Ardour raised an eyebrow and predictably he squirmed a little, blushing.

"I didn't mean to offend. I want to know what you can do, since we're working together," he clarified hastily.

It was fair, she supposed. Mostly she scavenged the Abbey's donations and anything else she could find, but she had stolen stuff before. When she had to.

"Vyx called you and Toro 'Sivir's louts'," Aavi remembered a moment later, "do you work for her as well as live with her?"

All the questions. Good questions. How to answer them without sounding like a total loser?

"I... fetch stuff for her, yes. She doesn't like to get out much, so she has me talk to people or spy and find things out. Usually it's just in exchange for the room though, she doesn't pay unless I'm buying something from the market or stealing something important."

Aavi nodded, non-judgmentally she hoped.

"And your friend Toro?"

"Same deal. He can do some satyr magic too, when he bothers to concentrate. Social stuff mostly. He distracts, I grab."

"A rogue and a bard," Aavi sounded pleased with the thought, which made her pleased too. He didn't think she was a loser. "Plus a paladin and a fighter. The Abbey stories are full of groups of heroes like that."

"Huh..."

Ardour wondered if any of those groups had been quite such a motley crew as theirs...