Kalara did not think of herself as a slave. No, Kala would have been adamant that she was a servant and there was a difference. She was paid and her contract had an end, an end that was so very close in sight. She just needed to scrape a few more coins together and wait out the rest of the year.
Deep down she knew that the distinction was barely one worth anything. She was basically bequeathed to Witclaw upon her mother’s death. The contract was for an extremely long time and the money wasn’t anything. Most of the other elves in the house spent their’s largely on self-medication for their state. Whores and booze and anything else. Kalara just planted flowers, annoying the gardeners for seeds for the little patch of grass outside her window.
As she settled on the man’s lap she tried to push those thoughts away. It was cute, him hiding his cards from her. She didn’t need to see them to know how to best help Witclaw. Cheating, at least in the traditional sense, was not her job here. No, her job was to get Sinclair off foot. She could feel him tense up, and couldn’t help the small smile. Her doe eyes latched onto his and she toyed with innocence on her features and played with one of her blonde curls.
Oh, this was not the usual way this went.
His voice, low and gruff in her ear had her shivering a bit against him and she turned to look at him, smile playing on her lips as she leaned to whisper in his ear,
Her eyes glanced down at Witclaw’s hands. When the man wasn’t confident about his hand he would curl them into tense fists. His hands were curled that way now and so tight the knuckles were white. He had nothing. He would bluff next, she could almost mouth what he would say. ”Last chance to take back your wager, Sinclair. Surely that opal is not worth this scrap of paper…”
Kalara found herself catching the warrior’s eye, shaking her head slightly at him, hoping he might heed her warning and keep his hand.
Deep down she knew that the distinction was barely one worth anything. She was basically bequeathed to Witclaw upon her mother’s death. The contract was for an extremely long time and the money wasn’t anything. Most of the other elves in the house spent their’s largely on self-medication for their state. Whores and booze and anything else. Kalara just planted flowers, annoying the gardeners for seeds for the little patch of grass outside her window.
As she settled on the man’s lap she tried to push those thoughts away. It was cute, him hiding his cards from her. She didn’t need to see them to know how to best help Witclaw. Cheating, at least in the traditional sense, was not her job here. No, her job was to get Sinclair off foot. She could feel him tense up, and couldn’t help the small smile. Her doe eyes latched onto his and she toyed with innocence on her features and played with one of her blonde curls.
Have I made you uncomfortable?she squirmed a little in his lap, noticing his look. The hand around her hips, firm and grasping was to be expected and she didn’t recoil at his touch, and then he looked at her in a type of way that pooled warmth in her body and she gasped as he tugged her closer to his chest. Her own cheeks were heated and she was trying not to show that he’d caught her off guard in the way he tugged her back. His chest was firm against her back in such a way that made her think about the muscles that had to be there and she found herself wetting her lips with her tongue.
Oh, this was not the usual way this went.
His voice, low and gruff in her ear had her shivering a bit against him and she turned to look at him, smile playing on her lips as she leaned to whisper in his ear,
It’s not your ass I’m feeling.she winked and moved to focus back on the game. Witclaw had a smile on his face that was akin to a cat who got a huge bowl of cream and she found herself, for a rare moment, allowing herself to feel the actual disdain she felt for him. The man was a lazy fool who profited off the work of others. Her’s, Sinclair’s, other adventurers, and servants. She felt herself wanting to actually help the handsome man who held her to his chest despite the fact that it would potentially end badly for her.
Her eyes glanced down at Witclaw’s hands. When the man wasn’t confident about his hand he would curl them into tense fists. His hands were curled that way now and so tight the knuckles were white. He had nothing. He would bluff next, she could almost mouth what he would say. ”Last chance to take back your wager, Sinclair. Surely that opal is not worth this scrap of paper…”
Kalara found herself catching the warrior’s eye, shaking her head slightly at him, hoping he might heed her warning and keep his hand.
02-13-2024, 10:13 AM
