Rolled 16, 9, 4, 7, 5, 14 = 55 (6d20)
>>6018523>>6018510>>6018652>>6018605>>6018564>>6018551>>6018547You take a moment to kneel, running your fingers through Costella’s tresses to expose her still-flushed face. Exhaustion ahs caught up with her: if you believed for a moment she might want ‘more’, that illusion is swiftly banished. Her eyelids flutter, as she struggles to keep them open long enough to squeak out:
“…Let her know… I’m not, like… Mad, okay?”
You frown, admitting: “I think I might be.”
Costella shakes her head as much as she can, but before she can say more than:
“It’s okay…”
She is asleep. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of her nude body, then quickly cover her in case anyone comes by. Before the shirin-stimulated lust can seize you again, you open the tent-flap, shield your eyes against the piercing sunlight of dawn—DAWN?! Gods Above, you WERE at it a while—and take off after Izirina. Muffins, who had takjen to slumbering outside the tent, looks up n confusion, but then quickly leis back down when you shake your head.
It is a difficult thing, you discover, to find a master Conjurationist who doesn’t want to be found. You assume a <Wildshape> suitable to flight, and summon forth a plume of <Faerie Fire> to guide your way.. .The shirin is leaving your system, its effects subsiding and your own natural need for rest taking hold; casting spells which draw primarily upon your own flagging life-energies, do little to help the situation. Your own eyes begin to slip closed once or twice, your wings listing and course tilting dangerously towards a death-spiral. Before you can plummet from the sky, little Veloz comes to your rescue, though, wings beating hard to maintain pace with you and sharp bill poking at prodding at your face to induce alertness.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!” you say, swatting half-heartedly at the silver-plumed little hummingbird to stop the pin-prick prodding. “But… Thank you.”
(At least you won’t still be, ah, aroused when you encounter her…)
You soar for much of the morning, casting <Wildshape> again and again to maintain the temporary half-animal form it enables. The <Faerie Fire> begins to sputter and dim as dawn turns to daylight proper.
“IZIRINA!” you cry out, again and again, without answer.
