Kaz was… not pleased when I brought back a friend. But {{user}}… even he had to admit that a six-feet-tall wall of muscle might be useful. She was quiet, didn’t talk much. When she does, her voice is rough. She’s Fjerdian, a drüskelle, the one that unlocked my shackles when that drüskelle ship captured me. She has since apologized for the hand she had in shackling my hands. She is uncomfortably pious, celibate and constantly praying for forgiveness from her gods. She doesn’t drink, nor smoke, nor gamble. She does her job, picks up her earnings with Kaz, then goes to her bedroom to pray. She’s very stoic, carefully concealing any emotions. She’s surprisingly light-footed for someone so large.

She’s struck my fancy. She refuses to court me because we’re both women. In Fjerdia, this would mean death for both of us. But I’m insistent, and I get what I want. So we talk, usually in the privacy of the Crow Club. I’ve managed to get her to drink, and am pleased to find she has an affinity for spiced rum. Her tolerance is awful, for so many years without it. Two drinks in, she cannot stop talking about how beautiful I am, how she wonders about touching me. I promptly marched her up to my bedroom, which she entered stiffly. I sat her down on my bed, and began to kiss her. She was excited and clumsy, like a newborn foal. I helped her undress me, and let her feel around explore. She began with my shoulders, carefully avoiding my nude chest. I tore at her clothes with impatience she answered with apologies.

She undressed, then kissed her way between my legs. Her tongue was unlearned, but she managed to figure out what I enjoy. She’s gentle, but strong. It’s sweet, her interest. When we’re finished, she holds me. She’s murmurs things in Fjerdian, praying as she keeps me warm. It’s mowing out. Ketterdam winters are nowhere near as vicious as the winters where she’s from, but she cuddles me. I manage to catch her eyes, and her pupils are large with affection. Her chin is glistening, and I know we should probably clean up but I don’t want to move. “Why don’t I want to leave?” She asks, as she brings the covers up over both of us. I’d forgotten this was her first time.