09-20-2023, 06:17 PM
Even in the mass of bodies and souls and shared emotion she was aware of Sámiel’s arrival. There was a distinctiveness that few possessed, and she could always pick it out in a room. But it was peripheral information; her attention was consumed with Roza and the intoxicating aphrodisia of their surroundings. The thump of the music was like a drug to Esper. The crowd seeped through her like nourishment, though she was already pushing just that subtle bit outwards, preventing anyone from coming close who she did not wish to. She left the others to the Lair’s delights. The walls often told stories: warnings and strange riddles, scrawled out in graffiti or picked out by the flood of neon light. The drink was plentiful and the drugs easy to find.
Her hand rolled over Roza’s hip with the rhythm, tugging her closer, and she gave a devilish smile. Esper didn't think the suggestion would make Cruz jealous, though she was sure it would make him feel something. It didn’t matter to her. In the midst of the needs of several hundred sweaty bodies, Esper felt need. She watched Roza's lips like a predator. Twirled a strand of the other girl’s long dark hair between her fingers as they moved.
“That almost sounds like an offer,” she said about that maybe. “And if it is you know I will collect.”
Roza knew her oddities well. The ways she didn't lie. The solemnity with which she understood transaction. From the moment eight year old Esper had stumbled into the carnival and been scooped up by the Vas family they had been inseparable. Their lips brushed now in provocative promise for any watching eyes, almost incidental given how intimately they had been dancing. Then Esper’s palm crept up the damp line of Roza’s neck. Her tongue flickered a tease, and after she kissed her deeply.
Her hand rolled over Roza’s hip with the rhythm, tugging her closer, and she gave a devilish smile. Esper didn't think the suggestion would make Cruz jealous, though she was sure it would make him feel something. It didn’t matter to her. In the midst of the needs of several hundred sweaty bodies, Esper felt need. She watched Roza's lips like a predator. Twirled a strand of the other girl’s long dark hair between her fingers as they moved.
“That almost sounds like an offer,” she said about that maybe. “And if it is you know I will collect.”
Roza knew her oddities well. The ways she didn't lie. The solemnity with which she understood transaction. From the moment eight year old Esper had stumbled into the carnival and been scooped up by the Vas family they had been inseparable. Their lips brushed now in provocative promise for any watching eyes, almost incidental given how intimately they had been dancing. Then Esper’s palm crept up the damp line of Roza’s neck. Her tongue flickered a tease, and after she kissed her deeply.