Recent content by Zyndyrr K'yoshin

From drum to fiddle, the tavern of The First Hearth by the Spine was filled with music to bring it to life this night. The musicians needed little help with this in the middle of its lively patrons. Some were drunk enough to dance with or without a band. Others were too busy in their chatter to...

Zelici hadn’t fully dressed. That was her intention. Yet Zyn would have been an idiot to claim he didn’t witness it. Instead, he relished it, the same way one slays a dragon to live and tell with it, and to hell with her dress in the end. Neither one of them resisted what was coming to them...

Her tail curtailed his desire to hide his fire. It wrapped around his calf as it had on the tavern floor beneath their current floor. From that evening to this morning, they had ventured upstairs. They hadn’t danced downstairs, not with hips and fingers swaying to the music, movements in rhythm...

Zyn was motionless. Fuck your condolences. There was no vehemence in his visage. I am violent. He let his hand be taken into her hand, just as her hands had taken his back in that tavern, as this thumb had caressed her fingers. I am a piece of shit, you dumb bitch. No, she could not read his...

Zyn hadn’t slipped at the mention of either parent, but he almost did. His father was a cursed person at best, a forgotten memory at worst, which made sense in a way considering Zyndyrr may one day wish to drive a blade through the heart of his very own father someday. To hell with that image...

That was expected. Just as intended. That she didn’t slap or stab him, as suspected, was a bonus. The blade tickled her skin as blood trickled from it, sucked between her lips. Her hiss was exquisite, but in truth Zyndyrr didn’t do this for the pain. He preferred to hear his enemies screech. He...

The way her fingers moved, how he noticed her near mistake that might have cost her a scrape if not one of her very fingers, was no less that impressive. Amid her movements, Zelici managed to speak eloquently, just as Zyndyrr remembered her tongue from earlier in the tavern. It was accented; a...

If Zyn had already broken into a grin, his lips split the next moment at her comment, baring teeth. Of course, how could I have forgotten? This woman drank a dwarf under the table. She was pretty, she was lithe, but she wasn’t weak. She had proven it while drinking as much as what she had done...

It wasn’t unexpected. He had teased her with his comment, but he had not taunted. He didn’t know this woman. She didn’t know him. Perhaps that was for the best. He didn’t want to let her in. Oh, she had let him into her, over and over again, and they had both relished it. A violent man, he was...

She wanted him. He wanted her. They got what they wanted: Each other. They didn’t go gently into that good night, however. Rather, they were pretty rough. Yet it was lovemaking as much as lust. Fast. Ferocious. Toward their crescendo, as the drapes billowed to let in some wind and cool the beads...

As Zyndyrr gazed at her face, half-naked, he didn’t wonder over her former lovers, as much as he had his own. They were words in the wind, dust and dead memories, buried like bone. No, all he saw was her, Zelici, a lady of his dreams as any other, but here before him in reality. Sure, he had his...

Good. Good. It was one word, one thought, one moment, as meaningless as whatever existed outside of this chamber. Words were wind. However, it meant a hundred words, painted a thousand pictures. What was good was the taste of her lips, the shift of her hips against him, the press of himself...

Moments passed between his words to her. Job offers. Offerings of food and drink. Payments. Prospect of bed for them both. A good night’s rest for this man and this woman. Time passed slowly, leisurely, expectantly, given they were just two patrons in a tavern at the end, surrounded by ones as...

Zelici. Zyn tasted the name, how the Z slipped off his tongue, and undoubtedly reminded him of his own. Zeli. Even her shorthand form of address was no less delicious, like this bread dipped in stew, and forget the butter. If he ended up bedding this woman before the night was over then dinner...

Well, the words of this woman suddenly shifted from as accented as a country bumpkin to as standard as Zyndyrr’s own. Reflecting on them, there was wisdom that dripped from her tongue. If only she knew the half of the phrase as Zyn gave. A quiet people, a peaceful land. Yes, yet in the...