>>5181209>>5181083>>5181005>>5180990‘Aww, come on!’ Irinnile whines. ‘I wanted to, you know… See that Zi again. She’s, uh, like, a useful ally in our mission!’
‘So is The Incubus,’ you point out.
‘Yeah, but ZI we can FUCK, and—’
‘—and you’re afraid of The Incubus,’ you say.
Irinnile silently pouts and crosses her arms in embarrassed indignation—you can’t ‘see’ it, and yet the image is the closest equivalent you can get to her psychic posture.
‘Maybe we can see her soon,’ you acquiesce.
You have to admit… It is appealing. Sex aside, the little goblin female always looks at you with such fascination. Fear and longing, as one, with something bordering on admiration. It reminds you of…
‘Ooo, yeah!’ Irinnile cheers up. ‘We could pay another visit to Eddie, too!’
‘No,’ you assert, banishing such thoughts from your mind. ‘We’re WORKING.’
‘Boooo,’ Irinnile says, with a resigned sigh.
You arrive shortly thereafter at the realm of rent-payers and squatters who serve as workforce for the menial positions of the human anthill that is Hawksong. There, in one of its most rundown quarters—as much a dwelling-place of mendicants as manual labourers—you find the overcrowded tenement which serves as homestead and temple to the unholy entity for whom you have gone to all this trouble: The Incubus, once Devil-Zivic but today wearing a form which is new to you: masculine, broad-featured, imposing.
