how do you wanna face it? when the end is so close you can taste it
A beautiful someone comes to take her cloak and Raza lets it slip easily from around her shoulders, revealing that aside from her shoes (which she also quickly removes), she’s already appropriately dressed for the occasion. A black, translucent dress (or maybe just a longer shirt) covers her body, letting the light create the lines around her lean, toned torso and illuminate the darker circles of her nipples, the well-groomed center of her thighs.
To the bar Raza goes, ordering wine, something she doesn’t usually have at the Hanged Man - at least not this stuff. This stuff makes her think of opulence, of sweet, heavy velvet curtains, of being fed berries and then diving between another woman’s legs for dessert.
This stuff goes straight to her head. And as she sips at it, leaning against the bar and openly ogling the employees of the Halenani, her gaze drifts to another wine drinker - tall and muscular and the faintest hint of a shadow. Look, Raza likes her men handsome and her women cute, so she slowly saunters over and eye him up and down.
“What’s your name?”
To the bar Raza goes, ordering wine, something she doesn’t usually have at the Hanged Man - at least not this stuff. This stuff makes her think of opulence, of sweet, heavy velvet curtains, of being fed berries and then diving between another woman’s legs for dessert.
This stuff goes straight to her head. And as she sips at it, leaning against the bar and openly ogling the employees of the Halenani, her gaze drifts to another wine drinker - tall and muscular and the faintest hint of a shadow. Look, Raza likes her men handsome and her women cute, so she slowly saunters over and eye him up and down.
“What’s your name?”
