"Damned Drow"

Myra rubbed the bruised, half punctured bite mark on her wrist. A strangely ironic wound, considering her talk of vampires earlier that evening. But this bite was not from a vampire at all. And maybe she'd deserved it. It hurt. Perhaps not as much physically as it did her pride. Whomever this drow was that had been following her... for who knew how long? ... he was not to be shaken off.

Myra frowned as she thought. The first she'd encountered him was... Back when she was dabbling in Trinsic's affairs. His common had been very poor. Then, she saw him again, after the 'mural' upon her ceiling appeared. She did not doubt that it was of his making, either. Always before he had been certain she did not see him. And even now, she didn't know his name. That, she knew, was dangerous.

Then again, she thought, simply leaving my house anymore seems dangerous. On the other hand, one might think her house was the most dangerous place for her to remain. The marks Mord'sythe had burned into the foundation stones of her home with his blood magicks still remained. As did the mark on her forehead. He could come and go in her home as he pleased and she could never see or hear him.

Her encounter with the outcast drow in the forests the other day had shown her how careless she'd become. He found her easily with probing fires and then nearly skewered her upon his spear.

This drow that followed her, though... He never tried to hurt her. In fact, he claimed he was here to... guard her in a way, until he could ... She frowned. No, she didn't want to think about that at all.

Her eyes looked over the bite mark on her arm. It was still a little tender, but not even half as bad as other bruisings she'd taken before.

She'd left Duineska, after seeing Von's new plants, and went to the Temple to meditate. She'd been doing that more and more often, finding peace in the silence there. The presence that had approached from behind didn't startle her in the least as it coiled a strand of her hair about its fingers. She knew it was him. He could walk the shadows as she did. ...exactly as she did.

In frustration at the conversation that had followed - she was embarrased even to admit this to herself - she had leaned over and bitten his arm. Hard. All her frustrations with his presence, and with those things she could not change... she took out upon his arm with her teeth. And she drew blood.

With a somewhat wry smile, Myra regarded the mark on her arm again. Yes, she'd deserved it. But damn him. The smile faded. They should have sent a female with him to keep him in his place...

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> Myra rubbed the bruised, half punctured bite mark on her wrist. A strangely ironic wound, considering her talk of vampires earlier that evening. But this bite was not from a vampire at all. And maybe she'd deserved it. It hurt. Perhaps not as much physically as it did her pride. Whomever this drow was that had been following her... for who knew how long? ... he was not to be shaken off. > Myra frowned as she thought. The first she'd encountered him was... Back when she was dabbling in Trinsic's affairs. His common had been very poor. Then, she saw him again, after the 'mural' upon her ceiling appeared. She did not doubt that it was of his making, either. Always before he had been certain she did not see him. And even now, she didn't know his name. That, she knew, was dangerous. > Then again, she thought, simply leaving my house anymore seems dangerous. On the other hand, one might think her house was the most dangerous place for her to remain. The marks Mord'sythe had burned into the foundation stones of her home with his blood magicks still remained. As did the mark on her forehead. He could come and go in her home as he pleased and she could never see or hear him. > Her encounter with the outcast drow in the forests the other day had shown her how careless she'd become. He found her easily with probing fires and then nearly skewered her upon his spear. > This drow that followed her, though... He never tried to hurt her. In fact, he claimed he was here to... guard her in a way, until he could ... She frowned. No, she didn't want to think about that at all. > Her eyes looked over the bite mark on her arm. It was still a little tender, but not even half as bad as other bruisings she'd taken before. > She'd left Duineska, after seeing Von's new plants, and went to the Temple to meditate. She'd been doing that more and more often, finding peace in the silence there. The presence that had approached from behind didn't startle her in the least as it coiled a strand of her hair about its fingers. She knew it was him. He could walk the shadows as she did. ...exactly as she did. > In frustration at the conversation that had followed - she was embarrased even to admit this to herself - she had leaned over and bitten his arm. Hard. All her frustrations with his presence, and with those things she could not change... she took out upon his arm with her teeth. And she drew blood. > With a somewhat wry smile, Myra regarded the mark on her arm again. Yes, she'd deserved it. But damn him. The smile faded. They should have sent a female with him to keep him in his place...
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