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A Mutual Taste for Mayhem

As Swan starts to make her way down the alley from the corpse of the slain soldier, and Alex, in the company of her cousin, starts to head up the alley, the two groups face each other from the length of the alley, as the soldiers behind the pair still try to get their act together.

The man spots Swan first, and steps slightly away from the woman, ahead of her and holds up a hand. The man has a martial bearing, with a short cropped haircut and dark eyes. "We've common ground." he says. He then says something inaudible to the woman and then returns to look at Swan expectantly. Swan raises the rifle with a fluidity becoming of a practiced killer. She studies them both down the sight with smoky eyes, her blood-red lips straight as a knife's edge. She has spiky blonde hair and pale skin dusted with plaster and ashes. Her simple skirt and blouse are torn and stained with blood. Even so, this can't detract from her feral beauty.

"You two will be /in/ common ground if you don't start spilling it, Gee," Swan snaps. "That you two with the party favorites a minute ago?"

Alex's dark eyes narrow as the gun raises in her direction. She determines her chances of dodging one of it's bullets on the "slim-to-none" end of the scale, but that doesn't mean that she wouldn't be able to cause her own damage as well. Her long, slim finger caresses the timer on the end of the canister lying loosely in her hand.

Swan's eyebrow raises; impressed by the woman's shiny toy. A smile blossoms on her lips as Alex runs her finger provocatively over the timer. Even though it's threat, she can't help but savor the alluring image. She immediately knows if things turn sour, she couldn't kill this dangerous beauty.

Wound, certainly. But not kill.

The man calmly regards Swan and her armanent and her study of the two with an unblinking gaze.

With feigned nonchalance, she cocks her denim clad hip sideways, her long, brunette braid swinging lightly as she shrugs her shoulder. "Could be," she replies, a small smile on her unadorned lips. "And are you to thank for the fireworks?" "I've always been partial to big explosions," Swan admits, studying Alex. "Sounds like you two birds might be up to your own bump-off."

"Might I suggest." The man pitches his voice so that both ladies can hear it. "That if we are going to trust each other sufficiently not to shoot each other for the next five minutes, that we all remove ourselves off of the street. The disorder engendered in the square will not last and our meeting will not only be noticed, but disrupted. And then we can introduce ourselves."

The man gestures towards a conveniently nearby open doorway. Swan rocks her head to one side and then the other, considering this. "Hrm. Well, it'll be a little gashouse not to ventilate someone for five minute, but I'll manage." With a wry grin, she lowers the automatic weapon and then slings it over her shoulder. "Goose here has the lowdown though. We have the bulge right now, but those button men will get their boiler free any time now. Best we get chummy fast, so we can give them the long goodbye before that happens."

Alex's eyes darts to Caz, wondering if he understood the strange litany that came from the dangerous looking woman in front of them. She thinks she has the gist of it, but most of it is just... strange. Mentally, she shrugs. For the moment, getting the gist is the most important thing anyway.

The man blinks for a moment, and then gives a nod to Alex and then another nod to Swan. "Time is short and our advantage is fleeting and should not be wasted." he says.

She strides over to them with a panther's poise and gestures at the canister in Alex's hand. "Think that's big enough to close that portal permanently?"

The dark haired girl's lips curve into a large grin. "If it isn't, I've got three more in my pack just like it." She glances at the gun slung over Swan's shoulder, nodding slightly. "And I take it you'll be able to keep those jerks out of our way while I do my magic?" "I might give a brief assessment." Cazaril says. "But the best way to judge your capacities is to see them fully in action." He gestures to the dark haired girl. "This is Alex Pemberton, and I am Cazaril Sawall."

"It's traditional where I come from." Cazaril smiles slightly. "To give one's name before engaging in a mutual fight against a foe."

"Sounds square advice, Caz," Swan says. "My daddy called me his 'Little Mistake,' but you can call me Swan. And if we get through this, you can call me anything you like. As long as you call me, savvy?" She gives him a wink and clicks her teeth together hungrily.

Cazaril raises an eyebrow and smiles. "Swan."

If Caz doesn't plan on it, Alex certainly does. There was something wonderfully dangerous about the other woman, something that makes Alex convinced that she'd be a lot of fun to have around. Even if she did flirt more shamefully than anyone Alex had ever met. But that just added to the excitement, she thinks.

In the background, the soldiers in the square slowly continue to get themselves sorted out. It won't be long before the window of opportunity closes.

"I think that's our cue, gang," Swan says. "If I keep their heads down, do you two think you can send that boiler back to Hephaestus?" Alex bounces her canister up and down in her hand, her dark eyes twinkling. "If I don't, you can revoke my license for Chaos." After a quick glance at Caz, she bows slightly with her hand outstretched in invitation to Swan. "After you."

Swan smiles softly in return, taken in by Alex's dark eyes. The fact the dame was toting enough explosives to put a hole in the world only makes her all the sexier in Swan's view. She holds Alex's gaze for a moment while Caz finishes making a twice-over. Definitely tipping the bill with this one afterwards, she thinks with a sly smile.

He looks down at the Door and the soldiers. "Now I see it, Alex." he says. "Something large is coming through that Door, or trying to." he looks at Swan briefly. "The boiler, as you call it." He looks back at Alex. "An engine."

"Swan will give us the cover to get close enough that you can lob the explosive at the Door's entrance." Cazaril continues, as his gaze flickers between Swan and Alex. "As for I, I will cover contingencies and the unexpected. My way."

A feeling that Alex has long since gotten used to rises on her skin, but to Swan it is new, different, unexpected. It's like the slither of a serpent's scales against her skin, cool, chilling, and inducing shivers from her spine to her ankles.

Swan shudders at the bizarre sensation and gives Cazaril the hairy eyeball for a moment. She checks herself over before eventually realizing that, whatever this may be, it isn't going to kill her. "Not exactly the tinglies I was expecting but they'll do, I suppose," she mutters.

"When I give them something to worry about, you do your magic, doll," she adds.

As the sensation rolls over Alex's skin, the girl's lips curve into a wide smile for her cousin. The feel of his magic, while familiar, still excites her every time.

"As Alex said, take point." Cazaril urges Swan. If Swan looks, his eyes are different now, looking like a pair of cats eye gems.

Swan shrugs good-naturedly, "Whatever you say, Caz. I love being on point. Let's you enjoy my stunning physique. Just don't get clipped in the meantime, savvy?" With a playful laugh, she leads them around the nest of soldiers to a more secure firing position.

As they move toward their positions, Alex shuts everything around her out, focusing solely on the job at hand. She hears Swan's laugh but doesn't acknowledge it, instead, dropping her bag from one shoulder to hang at her side so she can dive her free hand in and grab another canister. It pays to be prepared, after all.

Swan's direction of the group is competent and well thought out, as the trio make their way toward the nest of soldiers, and, thence, to a better firing position. Even Cazaril finds few faults in Swan's tactical sense in using cover in getting down the alley. True, there is plenty of cover here for Swan to use.

As the group reaches the mouth of the alley, Alex gets a look at a side of the Door that she and Cazaril didn't, before. There is a car in front of it (no longer burning). What Alex can see that she didn't see before is a large brass hand, reaching out of the door, trying to push the vehicle out of its way. It looks all the world to Alex like a bronze colored version of the arm of the Iron Giant.

In the midst of this sight, however, one last gap before what Swan judges would be the best tactical position to begin mayhem proves, however to finally evoke a coordinated response from the soldiers in the square.

As the group ducks and moves toward the shelter of a half-overturned vehicle, shots start to fire from several soldiers who have a narrow window of opportunity, and are taking it. A shot hits the pavement just ahead of Swan, and another hits the street just beyond Cazaril, bringing up the rear. The next shots, seconds away, will undoubtedly hit someone in the middle.

Swan growls through her teeth, "Make it count, doll!" And with that, she bolts back across the enemy's arch of fire. She hopes that by splitting the group, she can attract their attention away from Alex. Put push the point home, she switches the rifle to autofire and sprays the soldiers wildly. She doubts she'll plug anyone, but it'll sure wake them up. Once the gun is expended, she gets ready to use it as a club.

She disappears into a fog of smoke, obscured from sight; her presence only coming to light with the occasional screams, gleeful laugh, or bark of gunfire.

Alex is ready to dive to one side, trying to let her instincts take control of her actions. While she'd been in many a tight spot with Theo and the gang, she'd managed to avoid many fire fights. But she'd tried to drill with them when they practiced just in case she ever was.

Caz's instincts mirror Alex's, and what's more, takes a somewhat protective pose. As Alex descends, so does he, keeping himself somewhat between her and the marksmen as well.

She does her best to roll back into a standing position and only then notices that Swan has put herself between the enemy and herself. "Time to get to work," she whispers darkly under her breath. She glances quickly toward her new companion and the men she's keeping busy, then back at Caz, waiting for just the right moment to make a dash for the door. Her thumbs rest on the dials of her canisters. All it will take is a quick flick of her thumbs, a strong throw with each arm and then let the fun begin.

"Now." Caz orders, as the fire changes target from the two of them, to the smoke-obscured Swan. There is a report of gunfire exchanged, and sounds which suggest that Swan is in the middle of the fight, and very much in her element.

Caz's instincts give Alex on the other hand time to get to that desired doorway. Only one stray shot breaks the run, and its a wild one that misses both Alex and Cazaril by a wide margin.At the doorway, Alex can get a better sense of the tactical situation. It would be a long throw from here to where the Door stands and the metal monstrosity still fights its way out, although there are clumps of soldiers and the wrecked vehicle which might be closer targets if Alex didn't want to risk the hail mary pass.

Swan is not immediately visible through her smoke, although she seems well away from anywhere that Alex might toss her explosive.

"Alex" Cazaril says with the urgency of sudden realization. "Toss the canister in the air, and I will launch it at the Door. I'll use a tendril of the Logrus to accelerate its motion."

"You can use the other for a closer target of opportunity." he suggests.

In the meantime, Swan has managed to escape being winged by dint of her speed of motion, and her own return fire. While her own fire is wild and does not hit anyone, the mere threat of Swan's bullets acts as a wonderful suppressor.

She finally finds some cover of her own, behind another piece of wreckage, hidden by the smoke from her own fire amongst other shots from obvious view. Its clear enough, though, that Swan has a good view of the Door and the metal monstrosity still pushing its way through it as best it can.

No explosives have yet come from Swan's new friend, but Swan can see that several soldiers, three from each direction, are regrouping and attempting to use their own cover to approach, and presumably dislodge, the closest threat to their precious Door. Swan.

With the empty rifle now abandoned, Swan busies herself with reloading her rune-pistols; a Shard Storm round going into each. She knows she's outmaneuvered. It had only been a matter of time. She realizes the last of her rune-bullets are going to have to count if she's to have any chance of getting back to that delicious couple she'd met in the alleyway. Fortunately, the wound in her shoulder throbs and keeps the world in Technicolor clarity, gives her that extra edge that only raw pain can deliver.

"Boys, boys, boys," she yells at soldiers closing in on her. "If you wanted me so bad, you should have brought flowers. I love lilies."

Swan fires Muggin toward the fire-team farthest from the door, in an attempt to clear herself an escape path. As the rune-bullet streaks towards them, it begins to splinter and expand until it has transformed into a sorcerous cloud of metallic shards. The lead soldier catches the full brunt of of spell and is turned into a sticky spray of blood and bone chips. The two others have more luck and better cover. They howl in agony as the metal slivers slice through cloth and flesh, but recover far more quickly than Swan had hoped.

She curses as the two clumsily return fire, but more than enough to keep her head down. Once the fire subsides, Swan tries to target the wounded soldiers only to find they'd learned their lesson. Soon enough the rest of the trigger men have her bottled up tighter than an Ambercrombie's keister.

"Well, ain't that just kippy," Swan mutters, lighting up a gasper. She settles in and waits for the soldiers to give her big kiss off or that whacky tomato to shake a leg; whichever came first. Alex nods as she thumbs the switch, initiating the chain reaction that will cause a huge explosion. "Ten seconds, Caz," she warns, throwing the canister high into the air. The minute it leaves her hand, she puts all thought of it from her mind. When it comes to dealing with the Logrus, Cazaril is far her master. Instead, she concentrates on her specialty. Her eyes scan the area before her, categorizing everything into threat and non-threat.

The canister reaches the apogee of its upward arc, and hangs there, suspended in space.

The spot between herself and the door, teeming with soldiers and burned out vehicles, seems the most likely. She just has one more person to place before she can make her next through. Swan. Once she finds the dangerously beautiful woman, she takes a second to calculate the closest distance she can throw her remaining canister to do the damage to those threatening Swan without doing damage to her friend. She is flipping the switch into the on position as she does the calculations, throwing the moment they are made.

"INCOMING!" she warns, a maniacal grin crossing her face as she waits for the twin explosions to erupt around her.

And as Alex throws that canister, the one above her is moving, moving with increasing speed and acceleration. There is a miniature sonic boom, like the sound the crack of a whip makes, that echoes from Alex to where Swan is hunkered, as the canister rapidly moves toward the Door and the construct trying to come out of it.

"Music to my ears," Swan laughs to herself and hunkers down before the explosions turn the world inside-out.

The canister that Alex throws herself explodes first, by a short margin. Her best target, and the one chosen, being the fire team that Swan hasn't been able to engage, are surprised as the canister reaches them with explosive force. The screams from those three men are, understandably short.

Then comes the explosion from the accelerated canister. This canister explodes over the Talos, and there is the sound of metal fatigue and failure as the blast tears into the body of the construct. Pieces of metal go flying in all directions from the explosion, one very nearly arcing low enough to hit Swan.

Others act like shrapnel in the world's largest grenade. Alex can feel Cazaril at work with these, using the Logrus to alter the paths of the flying debris to maximum effect on selected targets. Among these are the two remaining soldiers with a bead on Swan, one getting pulped by a globular piece, and the other transfixed in the head by a sharp, long one.

There are still some soldiers unscathed, although most if not all of these still ambulatory are scattering out of the square in all directions, conceding the field.

The way is clear for Swan now, to head back to Alex and Cazaril, or even up to the Door, which defiantly still stands, although mostly choked open with a heap of hot metal.

Swan coughs and sputters, almost ghostly from the thin layer of dust and debris coating her entire body. She regards her now-crumpled gasper for a moment before tossing it away, distraught. A few more coughs and she stands up to begin brushing out her spiky hair. Finally, she turns her gaze outward and takes in the majestic devastation. The door's persistent existence annoys her, but does surprise her much.

She lights up her last surviving gasper to mark the occasion. "Well, you don't see that every day," she says with a smile.

Carefully, she climbs out of her improvised foxhole and makes her way back toward Alex and Caz. Along the way, she casually ventilates a few of the survivors just to make the big picture complete. There aren't many, and many of them are not in very ambulatory states, but there are enough targets to amuse Swan and occupy her time for the walk back toward the doorway where Alex and Cazaril have holed up.

"Hey Doll? You still alive out there?" she calls.

The smoke from the explosions, debris and other things clear enough to reveal both of Swan's new acquaintances. Cazaril raises a hand and signals for Swan to appraoch.

"You've survived, as we have." Cazaril says dryly. "Your covering fire was appreciated, and as you saw, well taken advantage of.""Nil perspiration, C," Swan says nonchalantly, as if the last few minutes were nothing more than duck soup. "I don't rub out easy."

Alex brushes a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes, a large grin on her face. "That was FUN," she exclaims as she comes closer to the pair.

[Swan] glances back the way she came. "I think we gummed them up royally. But that door is like a bad penny. I don't things are going to be dormy for long. So, you want to put me wise about those palookas? But first, a more important question…"

Swan leans in and gives Cazaril a sly smile. "Is the skirt your moll? Cause' damn if I wouldn't like a crack at her. Those gams are to die for."

Cazaril looks a bit taken aback by Swan's words, or perhaps is confused by them. He shakes his head.

"Don't sweat it, Caz," Swan says, taking a hit off her spicy-smelling gasper. "You've caught my eye too." She pats his chest and gives him a winning smile.

The younger woman drops to her knees, throwing her pack carelessly to the ground before her. Studying the items inside, she moves things around a little, trying to search for some of the ingredients to make more explosive. She'd been wanting to experiment with something a bit stronger than the Nitro she currently carried but hadn't had the time. Maybe now...

Then the words that Swan addresses to Cazaril penetrated her thoughts. "Moll?" she mouths. She'd never heard the term. Then the rest of the woman's comments made it clear. And the moment she figures it out, her face flames the color of a ripe tomato in embarrassment. Then the embarrassment turns to annoyance.

"You know, you could try asking ME if I'm dating anyone," she snaps, her mouth moving before her brain had a chance to think things through. "If I'm adult enough for you to be looking at my... gams..." whatever those are "... then I'm adult enough to answer for myself."

Her dark eyes blaze as she stares at the pair before her.

Swan's stormy eyes glitter with amusement and a sly smile forms on her lips. She saunters closer to Alex, as if drawn in by her anger. With a humble turn of her head, she says, "You got me dead to rights, Doll. I should have been straight with you and just got the dope right for the horse's mouth. And what a pretty mouth it is. Even if it is all evil right now.

"Those peepers ain't half bad either."

She steps a little closer, predatorily confident even in her humility. "So, what's your story, morning glory? You and Caz an item? Or can a dame that's dizzy for you buy you a drink?"

A flush spreads over Alex's face, creeping slowly lower until it slips below the collar of her shirt. Her lips part, a reply ready to emerge, when Caz speaks up.

"If we are going to be social." Caz puts in before Alex can answer. "Might I suggest that we three move some distance away from this Shadow? If we want to investigate the Door further, we shouldn't stray too far away, but we can move a few worlds away, to one which will be far more amenable to a chat without risk of it being interrupted."

He watches Swan carefully as he vocalizes his suggestion.

Swan nods, blowing blue smoke out her nose. She gestures northward. "My heap is a few blocks from here. It's got a bottle of hooch in the glove. We can cheese it there and mull this over for a spell. Either of you know where that Door goes?"

Cazaril looks slightly puzzled by Alex's words but does not respond immediately.

Alex shakes her head, glad for a temporary respite from having to answer the first woman who'd ever expressed interest in her. "Never seen it before," she admits, capturing her lower lip between her teeth. "And I'm not sure I want to go through it to find out. Your... heap?... seems like a good place to try to figure it out, though. Unless you have any other ideas, Caz?" She raises an eyebrow to her cousin.

"We can follow Swan for the nonce." Cazaril begins, his eyes flickering between the two women. "I still stand by what I have said, however. Remaining too long in this city is unwise, unless we lay plans to deal with that Door. And even then, I would feel safer being out of this world altogether."

He looks to Swan. "We can lay the Tarocchi cards on the table and discuss that once we get out of this square and its immediate area, however." Cazaril says. "We should be on the lookout for more of those soldiers in the meanwhile."

Swan quirks a smile as Cazaril talks and then shrugs noncommittally. "You jaw funny, Caz. But I pipe what you're saying." She gives him a playful wink and gestures for the two of them to follow her. "Let's dust out. Alex, you between me and Caz. Just follow the bouncing backside."

"You should try dickering with merchants in Lowtown." Caz says, as he begins following Swan, keeping Alex between her and him as he proceeds behind her. Alex can see Caz's wariness and the tension in his eyes.

She cuts back through the alleyways, leading them across the wounded city. Pausing from time to time, she checks around corners with her rune-pistols to make certain the streets are empty before crossing them. As slick as a grifter's palm, she guides them passed any soldiers still trapped on this side of the doorway.

The trip gets easier as they move further away from the square. Fortunately, the passage only has one incident involving one of the soldiers, a trio of soldiers coming down an alleyway that Swan wanted to take to get down to the car. An alternate route avoids an unnecessary and attention-grabbing firefight, and the progress continues. And before they know it, they've find her 59'-Thunderbird convertible just where she'd left it; the shiny red beast sitting in the street defiantly. Swan tosses her Rune-pistols into the rear seat and heads back to pop the trunk. She pulls out a bottle of Wild Turkey and tosses it to Cazaril and then removes a first aid kit for herself.

The moment the convertible comes into view, Alex forgets everything else. "Wicked!" she exclaims, hurrying forward to examine the classic beauty, her pack bouncing with each step. "Where'd you get it? How long have you had it? Can we take it with us?" The last is directed at Cazaril, her eyes full of bright hope. The offer for a drink earlier just got taken a little more seriously... especially if it could happen in this beauty!

"She's a Thunderbird," Swan says, smiling at Alex's enthusiasm. She runs her hand along the wing-like fender. "A 59', I think. I nicked it from some high pillow skirt back in the Beast. She has herself a sweet egg and butter man, so I doubt she'll miss it much. She runs pretty well in Shadow. You can give her a spin if you like." She nods to Cazril.

"Have a snort," she says, examining her gunshot wound more closely. "But save some for me. This bee-sting is starting to itch." As the bottle whirls through the air to her cousin, Alex's own attention is brought back to her companions. Cazaril catches the bottle deftly and looks at the label as Alex moves forward.

The seriousness of the gunshot wound puts all other thoughts out of Alex's mind. Dropping her pack onto the floor of the car, she hurries to Swan's side.

"I know a little about fixing people up," she admits, her mind casting back to the times she'd sutured wounds from particularly bad firefights of her own. "Is there anything I can do to help?" She nods and pulls off her ruined top to allow Alex to work easier. "Normally, it takes more than this to get my blouse off, I swear," she says with a wry grin. "But considering the circumstances, I guess it's all silk. With you being a croaker and all."

Alex chuckles, shaking her head as she bends in to look closer at the wound. "If I knew what you were talking about, I'd know whether to be gentle or hard," she jokes.

As Alex examines the wound, Swan smiles appreciatively. "Well. I've had worse. Nothing worse than my normal Saturday nights. But thanks, 'Lex. You're one handy tomato to have around."

"I'll leave that to you to do. I'm not a scion of House Ishtar." Caz tells Alex. He looks at Swan. "Well, it certainly answers one question about you, Swan." he says dryly.

Caz walks around the vehicle, studying it, as Alex takes a look at Swan's wound. Its a flesh wound from a bullet, Alex has seen worse. Removing the bullet would be tricky without the right equipment, but it would be a better solution than sewing up the wound with it inside.

"And the question was?" Swan says to Cazaril. She lets out a sharp hiss as Alex sutures her arm, but she nods that it's okay.

"Whether or not you are from my side of the universe, of course." Cazaril responds simply, stopping to turn and face Swan and Alex. "Clearly, all signs point to you not being such. On the other hand...this car is anachronistic to this world. And you just used the word Shadow."

Cazaril gives a nod of the head to Swan and looks at Alex. "If I am not mistaken, our new friend here is a scion of or on very good terms with the Royal Family of Amber."

He looks at Swan expectantly. "Aren't you?"

While Alex works, Swan begins rummaging through her jacket in the back seat. She pulls out a clove cigarette and lights it up; offering them to Alex and Caz, as well. She sighs happily as the sweet smoke fills her lungs and then blows a blue ring into the air, "Well, I wouldn't say /good terms/, Caz. Me being a bastard kid and all." She winces again as another suture goes through her arm.

"I got their blood in me, but I ain't considered Royal. Not by my father anyway." She rocks her head back and forth, snickering and blowing more smoke rings. "Now my male cousins. That's another story. They have been known to call me Queen. Or was it Mistress? Eh. Whatever.

"So, what's the wire on you two? You sure ain't a pair of bindle stiffs and you handle yourselves well behind the eight ball. You from the other side of the pond?"

While Caz and Swan discuss the ends of the world, Alex focuses all her attention on the damage to Swan's arm. It's going to take some time for her to extract the bullet from the depths of Swan's arm. She looks through the first aid kit, pulling together the various things she'll need. There are only two things missing - something to pull out the bullet with and something to sterilize the wound with. She thinks she remembers a long pair of tweezers still in the bottom of her bag from the last time she had to pull a bullet out of Theo. As for the second, that is an easy fix.. "It figures that your sire would not acknowledge you properly." Cazaril says somewhat dismissively. "The scions of Amber can be uncultured when it comes to matters of Family."

"Daddy had a frau back home, so the scrawny get of some roundheel he'd had a roll with just didn't hold his attention long," Swan says venomously, but the rancor is not aimed at anyone present. She blows out another stream of sweet smelling smoke from her nose. "My uncles were rate enough, though. We used to tip the bill together pretty good back in Amber."

Caz blinks a little uncertainly at Swan's response.

Glancing up, Alex holds one hand out for the bottle of Wild Turkey while they other searches blindly through her over-filled pack. "I'm going to need that," she tells her cousin. The tip of the tweezers brush across her fingers. Success! Deftly, she pulls it out, then splashes a few drops of the alcohol over the instrument.

Holding the bottle over Swan's arm, she warns the beautiful woman next to her, "This is going to hurt." Alex gives Swan a second to steel herself, then pours some of the alcohol liberally over the bloodied wound. Once she's cleared the wound to her satisfaction, she lifts the bottle to her own lips and takes a long drink, only then handing it back to Swan.

Swan hisses as the alcohol splashes over the wound. "You don't say?" she snorts, but gives Alex a sweet smile nonetheless.

"To introduce ourselves." Cazaril says. "We are, Swan, as you so colloquially suggest, from the other side of the pond."

"Your surgeon is my cousin and temporary ward Alexandra Dorothy Pemberton, daughter of Lord Jurt of House Sawall. I am Cazaril Despilsson, also of House Sawall." "Your surgeon is my cousin and temporary ward Alexandra Dorothy Pemberton, daughter of Lord Jurt of House Sawall. I am Cazaril Despilsson, also of House Sawall."

"Alex. Not Alexandra," the young girl growled, shooting a dirty look at Caz.

Swan smirks to herself. She found the girl's demeanor utterly enchanting.

"Well, if you're going to sing, I may as well give you the wire on me," Swan shrugs. "I'm Princess Sylvie Moreaux, Daughter of Caine; part-time torcher, part-time bindle punk, and full-time, one-woman chopper squad. I can either sing you to sleep or give you the Big Sleep as easy as pie."

At her revelation of her name and parentage, Cazaril cocks his head slightly and regards Swan again with furrowed eyebrows.

The names mean very little to Alex. Caz had told her a little about the other side of the universe, but they didn't seem quite as important to her as the things she was learning to DO. And when Princess Sylvie Moreaux - though Alex suspected that she was much like herself and preferred to be called by the much shorter Swan - mentions her list of accomplishments, Alex lets a low whistle escape. "My kind of girl," she whispers appreciatively.

"You're not so bad yourself," Swans says, unable to hide her attraction. "I love a woman that can handle herself. It means she can handle me."

Her lips curl back into a sly grin and she winks at Alex. "I should have known you were royalty. A Jane with gams like yours can only be high pillow material."

Alex snorts. "Until he showed up, I was just a girl who's dad ran out on her and didn't fit in. Royalty might be in my blood but it's not in my breeding."

Swan regards Alex for a long moment and then nods her head. "Birds of a feather then," she says. "I'd rather rub shoulders with a lady of action than a lady of breeding."

Swan turns her eyes back on Caz, "Same with you Caz. That roguish mug and drop-dead peepers. Mrmm, mrmm. I think I've kicked off and gone to heaven."

"We're only technically Royal because Sawall is currently the Royal House of Chaos." Cazaril says. "Neither of us is that high in the line of succession."

"You, however." Cazaril looks at Swan. "My knowledge only extends to one daughter of Caine, Cyllene by name. I was unaware he had a second."

"She's his acknowledged daughter," Swans says, not wasting the time to hide her resentment. "I'm his mistake. His little�project." Her eyes flash with one hundred years of hatred.

It takes several long, painful minutes for the girl to find and extract the bullet. Alex only half hears Caz's reply to Swan's question, wanting to put more of her attention into not hurting Swan any more than she has to. Once the projectile clears Swan's flesh, she lets it clatter into the first aid kit. Standing back for a moment, she wipes a tendril of damp hair from her forehead. The hard part is over.

Swan's face turns several colors of crimson as Alex works, but other than a low hiss and a grunt here and there, she doesn't protest at her rough treatment. At the end of the ordeal, she has to lean against the car to steady her wobbly legs. Breathing hard, she gives Alex a faint smile. "You ain't just a pretty mush, 'Lex. That's fine work. You're one smooth number."

She takes another belt from the bottle and sighs in relief. "But I'm piping you right now, our next date is going hit on all eight and not involve slugs in any fashion, savvy?"

"How about a few explosions instead?" she quipped. It was easier to throw out an offhand comment than to address whether she was actually going to go on a date with any woman - let alone Swan.

Swan smiles softly and flicks her gasper into the street. Her hand brushes lightly against Alex's wrist, smooth fingertips finding her pulse and drawing it forth, before disappearing as if they'd never been there. "Oh. There'll be explosions," Swan chuckles darkly. "You can take that to the bank, 'Lex."

Taking a deep breath, she picks up the needle she had previously threaded. "Ready?" she asks Swan, her hand poised above the gash, needle ready to enter into the soft skin.

Swan laughs and gives a nod, "Oh, break it up, 'Lex. After you mining for coal in my arm, this'll be duck soup. You work you magic, luv. And make it neat, will you? I just finished healing a mess of scars. Do you know how hard it is to look this pretty after a gang of werewolves gives you the Broderick?"

"I suppose" Cazaril replies dryly. "it would be as difficult to look presentable at Court immediately after tangling with a pugnacious Zhind while on a hunt."

Swans grins at that, "I think I'm going to like you, Caz."

Taking a deep breath, she picks up the needle she had previously threaded. "Ready?" she asks Swan, her hand poised above the gash, needle ready to enter into the soft skin. Swan laughs and gives a nod, "Oh, break it up, 'Lex. After you mining for coal in my arm, this'll be duck soup. You work you magic, luv. And make it neat, will you? I just finished healing a mess of scars. Do you know how hard it is to look this pretty after a gang of werewolves gives you the Broderick?"

"I suppose" Cazaril replies dryly. "it would be as difficult to look presentable at Court immediately after tangling with a pugnacious Zhind while on a hunt."

Swans grins at that, "I think I'm going to like you, Caz."

Alex takes a deep breath and plunges the needle into Swan's arm. She tries to work quickly and neatly, but at the mention of werewolves, her head pops up, her eyes aglow. "You've actually seen werewolves?! Wicked! I didn't even know they existed." Regardless of her feelings on dating the enigmatic woman, she had to admit that the lady had style!

Swan half-laughs/half-grimaces as the needle does its work. "In the Forest Arden, yep," she says. "I think they're called Weir or something wacky like that. I know from nothing about them other than the big teeth and fangs. I tried to put some daylight in them. No go. Had to do it with my hands. Broke a nail too. @astards."

"Weir" Cazaril agrees. He looks thoughtful and then smiles.

"Troops of King Eric, back during the War. Canine aspected limited shapechangers, or as you call them, werewolves. Not as facile as the shapechangers of Chaos, of course."

"However." Cazaril continues. "They are possessed of strong regenerative powers and physical attributes. After the battle of Garnath, a few minor Houses in Chaos borrowed the Crinoid shape of the Weir as a battle-form."

"Fighting a group of them barehanded is a noteworthy accomplishment." he finishes.

Swan smiles lightly at the praise, "Yeah. They just about fit me for a wooden kimono. Nice chance of pace though. I'm used to button men, mostly. But they die for me far too easy."

"Wicked," Alex whispers again. Her eyes dart from where she's finishing her work to Caz's eyes. "Can we go see some? I'd like to see what happens when they come across some Nitro-9..."

Swan gives Alex a conspiratorial wink and then speaks with a thick redneck accent. "Hur-hur, bet's they'd blow up real good. /Real/ good. Ah-yep."

Caz raises a mock exasperated eyebrow.

Swan finishes up another gasper and flicks it into the street. "You got a good head on your shoulders, Caz. I think traveling with you is going to be smooth."

She glances over at Alex, "And you. Great work that." She nods to the arm.

Alex blushes slightly. "Thanks. I had a good teacher, back in the last place I stayed. It's not the best job out there, but as long as you don't go doing one-armed pull ups with that arm, it should stay until it has a chance to heal on it's own."

With the back of her bloodied hand, she brushes a damp tendril of hair out of her eyes. "You know anywhere nearby here that I can clean this up?" she asks, holding out her blood-stained hands toward the pair.

"There are Houses where you would be now dressed formally, Alex." Cazaril says dryly. "However, unless Swan Cainesdottir has a better suggestion, pulling ourselves across a veil or two might be the best policy." He looks to Swan quizzically. "I know just the place," Swan says, pushing away from the trunk. "There's a rate gin mill a couple Shadows back. The owner plays a mean gobble-pipe and the gumbo is to die for. But better yet, they're the silent type, so Alex won't get ratted out for a little pump-juice on those pretty mitts of hers."

She goes to the front of the car and slides behind the wheel. "And can the Cainesdottir stuff, Caz. Swan will do just fine." The car roars to life, the sleek frame vibrating with anticipation. Swan gives her a little gas, turning her grumble into a happy purr. "Hop in and hold on. Medea likes the vrom-vrom." She pats the dashboard and the car growls impatiently in response. "As you wish...Swan." Cazaril says. "I only meant it with respect."

Swans leans over and lightly kisses Caz's cheek, her long fingers brushing over the rugged line of his jaw. "Oh, I know you did, dollface," she says and settles back in her seat. "But call me Lady Moreaux, if you have to be proper. I just don't like my father's name in association with mine. Someday when we've really gone over the edge with the rams, I'll give you the lowdown."

Cazaril, losing a bit of his reserve, and slight color coming to his face at Swan's gesture, gives a curt, respectful nod.

Alex settles into the back seat, resting her hands palms up on her knees. Blood all over this beauty just wouldn't do at all.

Once the others were settled in, Swan kicks the car into reverse and gunned it. As they scream into, she slams the wheel around and pulls a gut-churning bootleg turn. Once Medea's nose is pointing forward, Swan kicks her back into first and speeds through the city, violating virtually every traffic law possible along the way. There is a few shouts and yells from the populace, and there is the distant report of a rifle. However, nothing else disturbs the journey, especially once Swan begins to shift shadow.

The city begins to thin out and the architecture changes slightly with each block they pass. Although it maintains its French flavor, the buildings begin to take on a more Creole appearance. The humidity begins to rise, but the temperature cools slightly, thus maintaining the riders' comfort. Cyprus trees, thick with Spanish moss, replace the few willows that previously dotted the parks.

They turn another corner sharply, revealing a shoreline, even though they'd been landlocked a few moments ago. Swan guides Medea down a gravel road towards the beach. She slides the car up in front of an old fishing house, sending a cloud of dust everywhere. As the dust settles, they see a rust-covered sign moving in the faint breeze. It shows a rotund fish with sunglasses and a porkpie hat playing a saxophone. Beneath it are the words, The Puffer Fish.

"This quiet enough to toot your horn, Caz?" Swan asks. "It will suit." Cazaril says. "It will suit nicely."

"Last one in the water's a rotten egg," Alex exclaims, practically throwing herself out of the car. She runs a few steps, stops to kick off one shoe, then runs a little further, trying to kick off the other as she moves. "Blast it!" she cries out, face scrunched in annoyance. She stops once more and uses her bare foot to pry off the remaining shoe. Her clothes getting wet don't bother her but her shoes... there's nothing worse than walking around in wet shoes!

"My cousin can be impetuous. However, she is quite talented, even without her overt knowledge of just how talented she was or is." Cazaril says, stepping out of the car. He does not, however, make any immediate move down toward the water, standing next to the car.

Swan smiles to herself, watching Alex splash about with growing amusement. With a little more reserve, she gets out of the car and joins the elder Chaosian. "She's cute as a bug's ear, Caz," she says. She pulls out another gasper and then offers one to Caz.

Cazaril declines the offer with a definite shake of his head.

"I can see why you fawn over her. I definitely want to know her better. That smile of hers is addictive." "Fawn over her?" Cazaril furrows his eyebrows. "Oh please," Swan chuckles. "A blind man could see how special she is to you. And from what I've goggled, you taught her pretty rate."

She idly blows sweet-smelling smoke into the air, "So, tell me, Caz. Why didn't you two plug me in the back when you had the chance?" Her eyes find his, narrowing slightly as they search his face for the truth.

Cazaril turns slightly so that she can read his face. There is slight wariness, confusion, and even a sense of being insulted in his eyes. Swan's wicked smile fades into a serious line, but no apology or explanation escapes her lips.

"Kill you?" Cazaril shakes his head firmly. "When we first met you, it was clear that you were neither a denizen of the shadow, nor were you of the invading army. You were clearly a potential ally of mutual convenience at the very least."

"And after..." his eyes flash slightly. "There is no vendetta between House Sawall and the Barimens of Amber. And even if there were, there are rules of engagement to be followed. We may not be as formality-mad as House Hendrake, but to attack unknowingly without warning would be dishonorable."

"My enemies see my eyes before they die."

Swan considers him for a moment more and then lightly nods. "You and me both," she says, stamping out her cigarette. "Then we're on the square. Sorry to give you the third, doll. But from now on you, Alex, and I drink from the same bottle as far as I'm concerned."

She offers him her hand, smiling genuinely; all humor or unnecessary charm dissolves away, to reveal the true woman beneath. "It's nice to have friends. And I'm with you as long as you can stand me."

Cazaril gives a nod of the head as he grasps her hand. He gives two further nods of the head as he holds it. "And so it is said, and so it is a mutual agreement."

After releasing her hand, Cazaril then chuckles and gestures toward where Alex is immersing herself. "Enough of such matters, Swan. We should join go and join Alex in the water, or at the very least you should." "Yeah, let's break it up," Swan laughs in kind. "We'd better get down there before she throws an ing-bing."

She steals another kiss from Caz and the sprints down the hill toward the beach. She waves at Alex in greeting and pauses just long enough to peel herself out of her jeans and shoes; shyness apparently not being listed amongst her virtues. At least she keeps her top on as she dives into the water, only to surface a moment later with a yelp. "Salt water!" she mock-cries. "Arm�ouchie." She begins splashing about in distress�

Cazaril trots behind Swan at a slower pace, stopping at the shore.

Of course, her 'struggle' would be far more convincing if she wasn't laughing like she'd gone completely off the tracks. Alex stops treading water with a shake of her head and a small chuckle, then swims toward the "drowning" woman. "You're going to undo everything I tried to put back together," she scolds as she arrives near the woman. Her lips are pressed tightly together and her body is shuddering slightly with suppressed laughter.

Her arms slips under the water one last time as she slows to a stop, her feet barely touching the shifting sands beneath. She glances at the spot she had recently fixed, looking for any serious signs of damage. She sees none but clicks her tongue in mock sorrow. "Look what you've done. There's only one thing for it."

Quick as an adder, she draws her hands back and pushes a large wave of water directly at Swan's face. Backstroking as fast as she can, she tries to get out of Swan's way before the inevitable retaliation comes.

Swan might be lightning quick, but she still gets drenched by Amber's playful attack. She sputters and spits and laughs, rubbing the salt water out of her eyes. Apparently, it's not often someone gets the drop on her. "Oh you're so in dutch now, girlie," she pronounces and lunges forward in swift pursuit.

The sound of laughter from the shore booms across the water. Like a spiky-haired shark, Swan cuts through the water and bears down on her prey. After a prolonged but exhilarating chase up and down the shoreline, she deftly grabs Alex's foot and hauls the young woman back toward the beach like a squirming fish. She holds on tightly, dodging random kicks, until she regains her footing on the sandy bottom. She begins tickling Alex's foot with her free hand. And although she never really squeezes her hand, her fingers are like a steel trap.

"So, what do you think, Caz?" Swan yells towards shore. "Should I throw this one back in?" Caz shakes his head as he watches Swan try to haul Alex back toward the water's edge. Swan and Alex will note his clothes have changed to a pair of black and silver swim trunks, barefoot.

"No, we'll keep her. Waste not, want not." He begins to wade into the water toward the pair and then he stops, the water barely covering his feet at this point.

He looks up into the sky just as Alex, and Swan get a funny feeling that something is about to hit the fan. There is a sudden, potent sound much like a sonic boom, and something bright and indistinct in shape and nature appears a hundred meters above their heads. Its difficult to make out its size, although at this distance, its not that large.

"Out of the water!" Caz commands, his own feet propelling him backward.

Swan curses loudly as she notices the approaching danger. With one swift and powerful yank, she hauls Alex out of the water and onto her shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Hang on, doll," she says and begins a hasty retreat back toward the beach. Pure, brute force allows her to get them out of the water with surprising speed.

She sets Alex down and turns to see what this shape is doing. "Friends of yours, Caz?"

Cazaril doesn't answer in words, instead setting his hands on his hips as he regards the shape. It slowly drops, as if with an invisible parachute, dazzling in the sun. "I don't like uninvited guests..." Cazaril says. There is a feel of power that Alex is very familiar with. Swan felt this before, back in Paris. That creepy, crawly sort of emanation from him.

Then there is a crackling sound, and the glass object flares into even more dazzling brightness. A line of brightness emanates from that object, like lightning crawling down a silk cord, and strikes Cazaril in the breastbone. He topples backward, his head just managing to land above the lapping level of the water on the beach.

"Caz!" Swans yells in shock. She curses loudly and flexes her fingers. The air around her hands turns inside out, folding inwards and then expanding once again to reveal her rune-pistols.

"Caz!!!" Alex screams in unison with Swan.

"Get Caz up and moving," she shouts at Alex. "I'll cover you."

The younger woman doesn't even wait for Swan's direction. She is already heading toward her cousin, her mentor. Bending low, her long legs covering more ground than she would have thought possible, she is beside Cazaril in an unending instant.

"Caz," she yells in his ear, "We need you." Scooping her hands below his shoulders, she drags him up the beach. He wasn't the first causality she'd been forced to rescue and she was doubtful that he'd be the last. Her foot catches on a hidden branch and for a moment, she loses her footing, necessitating letting go of Cazaril so she won't end up on her behind as well.

With a string of invectives that would make a sailor blush, she slides her hands below her cousin once more, cursing herself for not being as strong as Swan. That girl, she suspected, would have been able to lift Caz one handed and had him up the beach in no time. She glances up to see how her companion is faring.

Cazaril is breathing, but he is unresponsive. Perhaps in shock, perhaps stunned. His eyes are open and his reactions are muted. Alex can feel a nimbus, a residue of the energy that struck him. It feels diametrically opposite, like cold to heat, to the energies she has felt her cousin use.

Oh yeah, Swan thinks to herself. Cover them with what exactly?

She chambers a rune-bullet into each pistol, feeling the arcane energies flare down her nerves like raw voltage. She fires the first round into the shallows, where it explodes with concussive force and sends a vast wall of water into the air. Almost simultaneously, she fires the other rune-pistol. This bullet explodes like a shotgun as it leaves the barrel. However, it is not lead or buckshot that streak outward, but a freezing blast of unnatural cold. It strikes the cresting wave and instantly transforms it into a wall of ice between the trio and this new threat.

Swan realizes it will take mere seconds for their enemy to reposition themselves for a clear shot, but that was more seconds than they originally had. And seconds in a fight were precious as life itself.

The bright glass object seems frustrated by the ice wall that Swan creates with her shot. It shifts back and forth, oscillating its position, buzzing like a insect trying to get past the barrier. Its movements range further with each shift. It won't be long before it figures out how to get past the wall and into the open again.

There are as yet no more discharges like the one which felled Cazaril.

"Move it!" she screams, backing up the beach. A thick clot of dread stops her heart as tries to reload. No more rune-bullets, just plain lead. Her subsequent sting of curses threats to put anyone unlucky enough to hear it into extensive therapy.

The sight of the wall of ice looks vaguely familiar to Alex - having seen something similar when their train was stopped. But she didn't take the time to study it. She'd ask Swan in more detail if - no, WHEN, dammit - they got back to safety. Turning toward her hurrying friend, she called out, "Car?", still dragging Caz from the beach to firmer ground, praying that he'd soon be able to move under his own power once more.

Halfway to the car, Cazaril gets enough response in his body that Alex no longer needs to drag it, he is able to walk to the car. Swan's retreat is faster, however, and she reaches the car just as Alex and Cazaril do.

And as the three of them reach the car, the glass object finally emerges from behind the ice wall barrier. It oscillates in a small ellipse, but it does not approach the trio at the car or take additional offensive action. Yet.

Swan jumps into the car and turns the ignition. "Come on, baby," she pleads. "Time to beat feet." She checks on the others to make sure they've reached the relative safety of the vehicle. Satisfied that Alex has Caz well in hand, she reaches for her rune-pistol and points it toward the glass object.

There is a stomach-churning sense of vertigo as her perception leaps forward, focusing on their pursuer. Swan studies it for a brief moment through the unflinching eye of her gun-barrel.

Through the gun, the spherical glass object strongly radiates of arcane energy. Not only magic, but a higher power as well. The thing positively reeks of both.

"We. Are. In serious. Dutch," Swan groans; resisting the urge to give the thing a case of lead-poisoning. With her recent run of luck, that'd just hack the thing off. She might have the drop on it, but she realizes she's as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest right now.

Alex sighs with relief once Caz is under his own power again. But under his own power or not, the girl is NOT about to leave her cousin on his own. She supports him as they rush toward the car, arriving at the same time as Swan. "Get in," she tells Caz, wanting to see him safe before sliding into the car herself.

Caz manages under his own power to take a back seat, mostly lying down, leaving the front seats for the two women.

The slim girl watches the other woman sight down on their pursuers and comes to a decision. "Trust me?" she asks, reaching for the wheel.

"Does a bear $hit in the woods?" Swan says, sliding over for Alex to take control. "Get this iron roaring, Doll." Freed of driving duties, she uses her spare hand to fumble in the glove compartment for the last of her rune-bullets.

Alex slides behind the wheel, her hands firm on the wheel. It had been awhile since she'd been the driver but it was like riding a bicycle - you never quite forget. And while the car itself may not have been familiar to her, it only took a moment to locate the necessaries before slamming it into gear and heading forward.

In the meantime, the deadly glass object starts vocalizing a low hum. A light beam emits out of the thing, striking the water some distance from the car. An image of a figure of some kind slowly starts to be built up in mid air, line by line, like a hologram. Its too early to make it who or what the image might be, or what it might do.

"Somehow that doesn't give me the Happies," Swan says, pulling her telescopic vision far enough back to include this new 'arrival.' It reminds her too much of the doorway they'd just played the chin-music for. "You need me to shift Shadow, 'Lex? 'Cause this one is about to get crowded, I think."

Alex nods, dark eyes scanning the path before them. "You seem to have a bit more practice in it than I do," she replies. "Unless..." She glances quickly over her shoulder. "Caz, would you be up for getting us out of her so Swan can do what she does best?"

Caz shakes his head at Alex's head turn and question. "I dare not." he says, rasping slightly. "You see, I touched it with a Logrus tendril,and provoked that reaction out of it. Shadow shifting with another tendril might hit all of us."

He stops his speech to turn at the retreating image of the floating glass object and the hologram it is creating. As the car retreats, the image stops forming, and in fact, winks out. The object starts to move again, starting a pursuit of the car.

At the moment the car is outpacing the glass object, although its clear to Alex that the object is ramping up its speed in pursuit.

Swan snarls when she notices the object catching up with them. "Damnit, Caz," she curses, "Didn't anyone teach you not to stick your tendril in unfamiliar places? It looks mighty pissed off."

"I *was* friendly" Caz protests. "If I was unfriendly, it would have known it."

She turns her attention to the road ahead, picturing the road beyond her sight in her head. "'Lex, just keep this tin can on the road, savvy? Things might get dicey in a titch. I'm going to throw it some curveballs."

So saying, Swan begins to shift shadow, trying to angle the road away from the beach and into heavy trees. She tries to imagine a hill beyond that with a narrow tunnel to dissuade their flying bloodhound. Of course, shifting Shadow isn't an easy process and she is forced to create far more hazards for Alex than she likes; traffic, sharps turns, and unexpected corners.

"Are you two usually this popular?" Swan yells over the roar of the engine.

Alex waits to maneuver a particularly rough turn before replying to Swan. "Usually," she replies, eyes darting between the rear view mirror, side mirrors and the road before her. She spares a moment for a quick grin over her shoulder at Caz. "Though it's gotten worse since I met up with him."

Caz raises an eyebrow in response to Alex's jest and gives a nod. "Some of the trouble you've gotten into, you did on your own."

While the obstacles that the other woman throws her way aren't ideal, Alex still manages to work her way through them with obvious skill. While there wasn't much driving with Theo and the gang, there was still plenty of need for quick thinking and quick reflexes. She did her best to use those here.

And Alex needs them.

Swan's attempts to put barriers between them and their glass pursuer means, by definition, said barriers need to be navigated by Alex herself, first. It's a good thing that Swan's taste in cars runs toward the functional as well as good looking, for maneuverability and speed become more and more critical as Swan's shifts challenge Alex's driving.

A tiny two lane road, barely wide enough for two cars abreast, with oncoming large trucks taking its dips and curves like manics. Winding roads along cliffs, with sharp curves to dissuade pursuers, and dangerous to maneuver. A chaotic traffic circle with cars and trucks merging in and out of a half dozen feeding roads all challenge Alex.

After a half hour of this, Swan is forced to let up the rapid change in shadow shifting, giving Alex a change to drive on "Interstate 60". For all of its name, its a relatively quiet 2 lane highway through rolling hills. When Swan gets a chance to look behind them, there is, finally, no sign of their pursuer. Absolutely none at all. Its not clear where in the torrent of shadow shifts the thing was lost. However, Swan is fairly certain that working together, the trio has managed to escape it, for now.

Just to be certain, Swan shifts them through a few more Shadows; the sky turns from sea green to a soft shade of lavender. The cars on the road take on retro-futuristic style, becoming silver torpedoes of style and elegance. Drivers are dressed to the nines in their flannel suits and poodle skirts. A zeppelin lazily passes over the multilayered roadway, stating that "Tomorrow is calling YOU" in giant, neon letters. A brightly painted road sign announces hotel and gas service one mile ahead.

"Wicked," Alex whispers, her head turning from the road before her to follow a particularly yummy specimen of a man, his tall form walking confidently past. The silver tune he whistles reaches her ears. Mmmmm....

"We should cheese it there," Swan says, pointing to the sign. "We need a good scatter, so we can give Caz the once over, don't you think?"

"Your choice of shadows certainly is not dull." Caz says slowly and carefully, craning his neck from his prone position to look at one of those zeppelins overhead.

Swan finds a crumpled gasper in the glove compartment and lights it up. She takes a deep hit of its lung-blistering goodness and exhales in a very unladylike purr. "There's nothing dull about this dame, Caz," she chuckles. "Get used to it.

"I think our turn is coming up," she adds, pointing to the lane.

Alex nods, turning her attention and the car toward the direction the sign indicates. "Better there than hanging out on the street," she agrees. "Though being on the street isn't all bad," she admits, glances in her mirror as the man disappears behind her.

"Him?" Swan snorts incredulously. "That gink couldn't take you to Heaven if he had a built-in elevator, kitten. Nice keister though." She lazily blows out a ring of blue smoke. "Once we get Caz tucked in his jammies, you and I can go find us a butter and egg man to climb.

"Murder gets me twitchy, so after a day like this one, I need some old fashion clock punching to take the edge off before I blow my wig." Alex turns toward Swan, a look of utter confusion on her face. "I'm game... if you tell me what any of that meant," she replies, her lips curving upward into a saucy grin.

Swan chuckles softly, "I'll give you the lay once were settled." Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she savors Alex's grin.

"Perhaps my thoughts of a translation spell might be worth considering." Cazaril puts in, in a lighthearted tone. "Although I suspect if I decided to speak about the minutae of a formal vendetta between Houses of Chaos, both of you would be confused about every third word."

It is only a minute or two before she turns the car into a small parking lot. The parking lot is only half full, cars parked carefully before closed doors that open to the street. A large sign on a glass-paned door at the end of the row of rooms announces the office. "Why don't you get us a room while I start checking out Caz?" Alex asks the woman beside her as she pulls into the empty parking spot at the end of the row.

"Go ahead." Caz says. It doesn't quite come out as a groan. "We'll be vociferous if trouble brews out here, believe me." Caz adds.

Swan nods with a smile, "You shred it, wheat. Just try not to gum up the works while I'm gone?" She climbs out of the car and saunters off across the parking lot. It isn't hard to notice the predatory wiggle of her well-formed keister, but which one of them she's putting the show on for remains unclear.

Alex finds, despite her intentions to see where Caz needs the most help, that her gaze is drawn to Swan's retreating backside. It isn't until the door closes behind her that she breaks out of her reverie and turns back to Caz. "Do you think it's safe here?" she asks her cousin, pressing the back of her hand against his cheek to feel the temperature of his skin while her eyes quickly run over his body, trying to assess any outward damage she may see.

"It's a fair question." Caz says, opening and closing his eyes. His skin is cool and slightly damp. "It's going to take some effort, but I need to run a check. I don't want that thing or anything like it sneaking up on us. It'll take a few minutes. You've felt this before. It will" He closes his eyes "be interesting to see what Swan senses.""Just don't push too far," Alex warns. "Ive gotten used to you being around and the last thing I need is for you to wear yourself out before I have a chance to fix you up." Her eyes soften and her lips curve into a gentle smile as she presses lightly on her cousin's shoulder.

"Your father would be very upset with me if I wasn't up to the task of keeping you safe." Cazaril replies with a smile. "And don't even get me started on our common Grandmother. She'd be quite upset."

"I haven't told you much about her." he admits to Alex. "Mainly because she is a force of nature that can't really be prepared for in advance."

Alex remains still, having expected the feeling. She still doesn't LIKE it, but she's gotten better at poker-facing when the feeling comes around. "Anything?" she inquires, keeping a steady eye on Caz's features as he works.

"Nothing." Cazaril says. "We've eluded detection for now." The feeling drops away.

Swan pushes open the hotel office door with a flourish... The balding, slightly overweight man behind the counter is listening to an oversized device that sounds like a radio and looks like a cross between a Grundig Radio and a Van der Graff Machine. There is a slight crackle as the radio broadcasts.

, "Hey jelly bean. You got a room in this flophouse?" she chimes, before the door closes and muffles her voice.

"...and tonight's Sci Fi Hour starts a new series, starring William Hartnell, as a mysterious traveler in time and space. Get ready to meet Doc..."

The man turns down the radio at that point to inaudibility and regards Swan.

"Yeah, I got a room." he says. He gives a grin. "You looking for something just for yourself, good lookin'?"

At this point Alex, and to a lesser extent, Swan, get a creepy-crawly feeling all over their skin. Like a body glove, their skin crawls from head to toe.

Swan shivers instinctively, but passes it off for a gut-reaction to the gink sitting behind the desk. After resisting the urge to pull his grin up over his head, she gestures toward the parking lot with her thumb. "Two rooms. Connected doubles, if you can manage it. For the three of us," she says. "And where can we find some grub around here? We're passing through, so we're outta sorts geography-wise."

She pulls out another gasper and slides up to the counter. "That doable?"

"If the color of your money is good, then I can settle you up with accommodation." the man says. "Sooner I get done with you, sooner I can get back to other things.

"Aint got connected rooms, although I've got a three room, whatcha call it, suite. Your party comfy enough for that? Else I can give you rooms across the hall from each other. Don't want you getting ideas on making doors where there aren't any."

Swan nods, puffing on her gasper in annoyance, "Yeah, I have your green right here." She reaches into her jean's pocket and recalls the useful Pattern trick Lorius had taught her back in Amber. Rather than finding it empty, her fingers slip around a hefty roll of bills. She draws them out and examines the prismatic series of paper bills for a second.

She hands him the fuchsia bill, "Give us the threesome, doll. And a 'do not disturb' sign, got it?"

He looks at the bill once, nods, and pushes a book. "Sign in. Just you for now. You can have your friends sign in when they come in."

Swan pouts her perfect lips oh-so playfully, "You're a doll. Thanks." She signs her name Jane Jones and then pushes the book back across the desk.

"As far as filling your bellies, there's plenty to eat, depends on." he grins. "what sort of food you and yours want. High class, low class, what?" he asks. "We'll figure something out," Swans says, swiping the key from him. "I hope doing your job didn't interrupt your program too much."

She heads back to the car, stalking out the door with jaguar annoyance.

The radio comes on in a crackle just as she reaches the doorway, and the voice is inaudible by the time she makes a few more strides toward Alex and Caz in the car.

"My probing did not unduly disturb you, did it?" Cazaril says as he notes the annoyance evident in Swan's motion.

To Alex's eyes, there doesn't seem to be much in the way of physical wounds, save for what seems to be something like a burn on his chest. Inflammation, certainly, the skin angry and red there. Other than that, there isn't much outwardly physically wrong with Cazaril.

Swan takes one last hit off her gasper before grinding it out on the ground. "Usually I get dinner and some flowery words before someone probes me, Caz," she says with a Cheshire grin. "But you can make it up to me later, now that you're back in the pink."

She goes to the trunk to grab some of her things. Her head pops around the corner, "SO, now that you've given this place the up-and-down, did anything tip its mitt?"

Cazaril shakes his head. "Not a thing. I believe we've gone far enough that we've eluded whatever that little thing was. I do have to say though." he looks at Swan and Alex. "that whatever it was, it had the backing of a Major Power. Something which was simply sorcery would probably not have been able to react to a Logrus tendril so badly as to run down the conduit to me."

As Caz talks funny, Swan listens and nods here and there. She feels herself getting another 'Lorius' headache and rubs the base of her neck.

He gives a dark look. "What exactly was powering it, I don't know. Trying to find that out would be as painful as my previous interaction with it." Cazaril admits. "Yeah, nix on the tendril touching," Swan says, swinging her overflowing purse onto her good shoulder. "You look like you took a couple rounds on the hotsquat. Next time we'll have to pick you up with a dust pan."

Alex snorts. "Wonderful. Anyone in particular that has it out for you, cuz?"

"To be a lordling of Chaos IS to have enemies." Cazaril admits. "However, I did not recognize that little item as belonging to any of my known enemies."

Alex taps one long finger against her lips. "What about any of my dad's known enemies?" Alex asks thoughtfully. "Could it be someone after me instead? And you just got in the way?"

Caz shakes his head after a moment's thought. "You were left in Shadow to avoid such politics. The idea that someone is already on your trail is a disquieting one, Alex."

"Well, I ain't someone's meat, I can tell you that," Swan adds. "All the trouble boys that would want me iced are already dead." She shrugs as they look at her. "What? A girl has to have her hobbies."

Alex drops her head, a smile and a chuckle coming out. "I like your idea of hobbies," she tells Swan.

"Anyway, a happier topic. As far as dinner..." Caz adds. "Did you find out where we might find food, Swan? I think I can risk trying to reach for some with a tendril, now, if we must. I'd rather not try it though."

"It sounds like there are a few hash houses around here," Swan admits, scanning the main boulevard. "But since we lost out on the Puffer Fish, I'd like to get some good grub. Besides, I have the lettuce for it and you deserve a treat. So, let's get you two into some new glad rags and go prowling for a swanky gin joint."

She gives Alex a feline grin, "Besides, I want to dance and dip the bill a little." Alex raises an eyebrow. The combination of the words still make little sense to the girl, but the look... that can't be mistaken. "I haven't been dancing in awhile. It'll feel good to let my hair down." She reaches back and pulls the band that holds her braid in place, tossing her head to let the dark waves fall about her shoulders.

Swan' smile curls at the corners, "Now that ain't playin' fair, doll." She watches the way Alex's hair flows over her slender shoulders. A pleasant shiver passes through her, as color rises to her cheeks. "It's been too long since I've seen something so pretty."

Caz smiles. "Just be wary of her dark side. She produces the most dangerous munitions this side of the Moranth. And I think she could teach them a thing or two."

A bright glow of pleasure emanates from the young woman. "It's just something I do," she replies to Caz.

As for Swan's comment, Alex's eyes glitter with mischief. "You aren't hanging around in the right places," she informs the beautiful woman beside her, cocking her hip to the side, hand resting lightly upon it.

Swan just chuckles, her eyes roaming over Alex's curves unapologetically. "Oh trust me, doll. I'm wise about all the right places. And that ain't just lip service� but that does come with the deal."

Alex's smile gets wider and just a touch more feral. "Well, they are nice lips..." A part of her was wondering just WHERE these comments were coming from, but she quickly shut the thoughts down. She was having fun. And with everything that had happened recently, she needed a chance for fun.

With a sensual laugh, Swan jangles the room keys. "We'd better get a shower first. Get that salt off us, eh? And then you can check my arm. Amongst other things."

She offers Caz a hand up, "Sound good to you, Caz?"

Caz nods. "Clean up, and eat. Over dinner, I have a proposal to make to Swan." He gives a grin. "Of a somewhat different sort. Your bloodline has a talent, I'm told, that I might wish to employ."

"Ooo� sounds mysterious," Swan chuckles. "Just remember, I ain't a worker, Caz. I just look like one. But I owe you one. So whatever's your flavor, I'm your scoop."

He looks at Alex. "I haven't said before now for several reasons, Alex, but you weren't the only person I was sent to try and find out here."

Caz takes the hand and gets to a standing position.

"Let's proceed."The dark-haired girl's eyes widen slightly at the revelation, her heart simultaneously sinking and lifting. "Are there... others... out there?" Alex asks softly, falling into step beside her cousin. "Do I have any siblings?"

"Many Houses use fosterage in Shadow as a method of training, protecting, and honing some of their best and brightest. House Sawall is no exception to that. Those not fostered in Shadow often have a Wanderjahr instead. Like our very own Emperor."

Caz looks at Swan. "Does Amber do this, as well?"

"Wouldn't know," Swan says, offering her support as they head to their room. "I sorta got tossed to the lions. Never had a butter and eggs man to watch over me. Didn't even know I was an Amberite until dad showed up on my seventy-fifth. Of course, my father was a real gink. I may be the exception to the rule."

"Seventy *five*?" Alex bursts out before her brain has a chance to put a reign on her tongue. "You can't be that old!" Caz had mentioned the longer life that came with her own bloodline, but she still expected people to age at the right rate. After all, she looked like a typical teenager... didn't she?

Swan laughs at Alex's reaction, shaking her head with amusement. "Doll, I'm celebrating my hundred and first in a few months," she chimes. A playful pout purses her kissable lips, as she begins to bat her eyelashes innocently. "What? Not into older women, 'Lex?"

Cazaril chuckles.

"It has been said." Cazaril adds, looking at Swan. "that the scions of House Barimen, those who became the Amberites, were extremely long lived and showed the signs of youth late into life."

Cazaril turns back to Alex. "You don't have a sibling in Shadow that I was sent to find in addition to yourself, Alex. Instead...I was sent to find a daughter of our grandmother. An Aunt."

Swan smiles faintly, glancing over at Alex for her response to this. These Chaos-types were really starting to impress her. No wonder Dad hadn't told her much about them

"An aunt? Wicked!" Alex bounces on her toes, eyes bright with excitement. Family was still something she wasn't used to. And the thought that she might find more, just being on the road with Caz... she became more and more convinced that taking the walk away from her mother's house had been the right thing to do.

Cazaril nods, following Swan and Alex toward the waiting hotel room. A growl emits from his stomach and he grins. "I think we should table this discussion until cleanup and the acquisition of food."

Swan opens the door once they reach the room. "There are three beds, one shower," she says. "So, if you want to double up on the shower, speak now or forever hold your peace. And if you need new clothes�"

"Ladies first on the shower." Cazaril says politely. "I will probably take longer. Or I can go first, let you two talk."

Alex swipes playfully at her cousin. "I don't take long in the shower and you know it. Just long enough to make sure I'm clean."

Turning to Swan with a chuckle, she asks, "What's your pleasure? First, second, last or some other combination?"

"Heh. If it's my pleasure we're talking about Doll, I'll go with option C," Swan laughs in return. "But I guarantee we'll be in the shower a lot longer."

Swan concentrates for a moment, "The closet is over there. I'm sure you'll find something in it that fits."

Swan and Alex feel that creepy feeling for a moment and then it drops.

"Saves me the exertion." Caz adds, laying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling where he has been placed.

After getting Caz inside and settled, Swan tosses her rune-pistols onto the nearest bed. With a heavy sigh, she slumps into a chair by the window. "After we get cleaned up, are we doing room service or fetching something from down the corner?"

"What do you think, Alex?" Caz looks at Alex for her response.

"Do you feel well enough to move?" she asks her cousin. "If you'd rather rest here for a bit, Swan and I could bring something back. I'm not much for room service, 'cause the food never tastes too good and the charge you an arm and a leg for the privilege." With a quick, sly glance toward Swan she adds, "And I'm fond enough of everyone's arms and legs to keep them intact." Cazaril considers Alex's offer.

"All right. Let's do it this way. You two get cleaned up first. I will then get cleaned up and rest, while the two of you go and find food for yourselves and bring me back leftovers."

"Just don't get into too much trouble." he says, looking at Swan and Alex.

"All right?"

"You shred it wheat," Swan chimes, leaning over to kiss Caz's brow.

Caz grins.

Swan saunters across the room and pauses at the bathroom door. "Age

before beauty?" she says with an impish grin.

And then she extends her hand to Alex, the smile softening. "Or are you interested in Option C, perhaps? I know I am. And have been since I glommed you, 'Lex." Her eyes betray a disarming gentleness that wasn't there a moment before. The corner of her mouth turns up, as if to say that she's happy with whatever answer Alex provides her.

Before the gentleness settled into Swan's eyes, Alex was going to suggest that Swan take her turn first. She still wasn't certain how she felt about Swan - the woman was like a speeding train, dragging Alex along in her wake. But the unspoken knowledge that Alex didn't HAVE to follow but could lead made the younger woman want to take a chance.

With great care, Alex reaches out and touched the back of Swan's hand. "Let's try option C," she whispers, dark eyes rising to rest on Swan's face. Swan lifts Alex's hand to her lips, gracing it with a kiss. She turns it over and lightly kisses Alex's wrist, finding her pulse and coaxing it to quicken. "Option C it is," she whispers in return, her eyes of smoke almost timid now.

So saying, she guides Alex into the bathroom and closes the door behind them.

As the door closes between Caz and the women, Alex swallows heavily, her lips ending in a small, nervous smile. "So," she asks, hand fidgeting on the clasp of her braid, "How hot do you like it?"

Her eyes widen quickly as she realizes how those words can be taken. "I... I mean, the water," she stammers quickly, trying to look less the fool. "How hot do you like the water. I can get it started while you get..." Her eyes rake over the older woman, a combination of nerves, wonder and heat swirling in their depths. "Undressed."

Swan chuckles gently and without judgment. "I savvied. Don't you sweat it, 'Lex," she whispers, drawing close. "Make it warm enough to turn up our heels for awhile. The bath looks big enough for us both. And I'm dying to wash that lovely hair of yours."

Her long fingers brush over Alex's hair to help it fall from its braid. The smile blossoms, all white teeth and humbled amazement. "You're so pretty, it hurts."

Swan moves forward, as if to kiss Alex on the lips, a drawn out, freeze-frame of a moment. But instead, she simply kisses the young woman on the nose and then retreats. She turns away and begins to silently slip out of her clothes.

Yet Alex can tell that she's being watched in the mirror, as if Swan is desperate to capture every movement, every expression, yet afraid to admit it. As Swan moves closer, Alex's lids close the rest of the way, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips in anticipation. 'Will kissing a girl... a woman... be different than kissing a guy?' she wonders moments before she expects soft lips to touch her own.

The feather touch on the tip of her noses causes Alex's eyes to open in surprise. Was she... did she... Swan was turning away, confusing the younger woman. 'Maybe I'm just imagining things,' she wonders, starting to turn toward the tub. 'Maybe she just likes to flirt.' If she were paying closer attention, she'd know the fallacy of the thought. She's be able to see Swan watching as she bends down, long hair brushing the edge of the tub as she reaches in to start the water running. She's know that her rounded, jeans-clad bottom was visible in the mirror to her companion.

The lithe girl waves her fingers under the running water, testing the heat that pours through the faucet. Moving impatiently from one foot to the other, she twists the knob a little hotter, then a moment later tests again. Though she refuses to look behind her, she is painfully aware of the woman removing her clothes a few feet from her. And she longs for the water to reach it's proper temperature so she can be similarly clad.

Swan finally slips out of her bra and then arches her back with feline contentment. She removes her bandage, the wound beneath already healing to a puckered, pink scar. With it and the last of her clothing shed, she slides up behind Alex as the young woman stands at the bath. "How's it coming along, doll?" she whispers, brushing her fingers over Alex's hip, catching the loop of her jeans. Gently, she turns Alex around to face her, providing the woman with the full view of her predatory body, lightly tanned and sleek.

Fingers still looped in Alex's jeans, Swan tugs her forward to meet her with a kiss; her full breasts pressing firmly against Alex front. This time her lips find Alex's mouth, not forceful, but certainly not lacking for passion, hinting at a barely restrained hunger beneath. Her lips move down, lightly caressing Alex's cheek and moving to her neck. The scent of sweat and sea salt clings to her skin like a sensual perfume. "I think one of us is overdressed."

"So it would seem." The words come out in a whisper, Alex's breath still taken away from the kiss. She'd found herself returning the kiss with the same passion, her body wanting more. As Swan's mouth moves down the younger woman's neck, a low groan rumbles in Alex's chest.

'Too overdressed.' The thought crosses Alex's mind as she takes a step back, hands running lightly over Swan's lithe form as she does so. "No worries," she tells Swan before her partner can protest. "Just taking care of something necessary." She leans forward quickly, depositing a quick but fiery kiss on the other woman's lips.

With smooth grace, she crosses her arms before her, fingers gripping the bottom of her thin shirt. In one fluid movement, the top rises, exposing smooth, clear skin shining like ivory. A dark blue bra holds her medium sized breasts in place, their curves melting into a perfect crevice between them. As the garment rises, Alex's face is obscured for a moment. But between one heartbeat and the next, she can see once more, dark eyes meeting Swan's with barely controlled heat. As she tosses the garment aside, she shakes her head slightly to get her long strands to settle back in place.

As her hands slide over the flat of her stomach, she tries to wedge one sneaker off with the other. The toe of her right sneaker presses against the heel of her left and she pulls... and loses her balance.

With an unexpected cry, she lands at a heap on the floor, hands moving from the button of her jeans to stop her face from meeting the bathroom floor. "Dammit," she mutters, rolling over to sit at Swan's feet. "So much for suave," she remarks as she looks up at her expectant lover, cheeks red with both heat and embarrassment. "Maybe I should have asked for help." Eyes still on Swan, she bends forward to untie the problem shoes, breasts resting comfortably atop her knees.

Swan bites her lip to suppress the laugh. "Maybe so," she says staring down at her lovely companion. Once Alex has her shoes off, Swan bends down, the warm weight of her breasts pressing into Alex's back. A coy hand brushes over Alex's side, moving around and beneath the weight of her breasts to gently stroke her stomach. She lets out a feline murmur as her wrist teases across a nipple. The strong fingers begin to make lazy circles over his skin. No. Not circles, really. They ever-so slowly begin drifting lower and lower, until they discover that maddening line between Alex's waist and her jeans.

Alex's eyes close and a small shudder wracks her body. Her lips curve upward sensually.

Lips nuzzle against Alex's head with unspoken promises. "Never had someone fall for me quite that way," she says with an adoring chuckle. "I'm honored."

"Never fell for someone that way," Alex replies, turning her head to look at Swan, placing her lips closer to the other woman's.

Alex's reply ignites a feline smile. Dexterously, Swan meets Alex's lips, stealing a soft kiss that lingers even after she draws away to inflict other delicious torments.

Wicked teeth find the tip of Alex's ear, lightly nipping with sensual distraction. Her timing is perfect, the distraction coming just as her fingers slip into the opening between Alex's belly and her jeans, seeking the warmth hidden there.

"Should I help you out of these, doll?" she whispers.

Placing one soft hand atop Swan's, she runs her fingers gently up her lover's arm, feeling the hair raise in her wake. "Gladly."

Swan helps Alex to her feet, lifting her with a graceful ease. She stares into Alex's eyes for a moment, savoring every aspect of her lover's beautiful face. Her hands rest on Alex's hips and pull her forward, so that their bodies touch. "I don't think I've been this dizzy for a dame in fifty years, 'Lex," she purrs. "You're pure electric." "I prefer to think 'dynomite'," Alex murmurs, her hands running over the tightness of Swan's muscles. "You're the one that's electric."

Swan smiles brightly, her cheeks flushing with amusement. "Mrmmm� I like that. And here I thought I was just some old lady."

"Old*er*," Alex corrects, her fingers brushing lightly over the other woman's back. "I don't think anyone would confuse you with old."

Alex leans down, her hand cupping Swan's cheek softly. "No problem, love," she replies, planting a soft kiss on the other woman's lips. With a shimmy of her hips, she lets her tattered jeans slide to the floor, showing nothing underneath but a patch of nightly trimmed dark hair. As her hips wiggle, she wonders why she's not as disturbed at her lover's strength. 'But her touch is so gentle. She won't hurt me.'

"This what you wanted?" Her voice rumbles low in her throat, her fingers playing through Swan's short strands.

"Oh yes," Swan growls happily. She closes her eyes, lost in Alex's touch, arching her neck to enjoy every moment of it. But her desire overcomes her only a moment later, the image of that delicious shimmy burned into her mind. She slides back down to her knees and grace's her young lover's stomach with slow kisses. Skilled hands slide up Alex's legs to tease and explore her shapely behind.

In an exquisite arch, Swan's mouth works her way downward until it hovers over that irresistible patch of dark hair. She rubs her smooth cheek against Alex's thigh like a humbled lioness. Her breaths come in greedy gulps, making her voice husky and desperate. "Are you sure, 'Lex?"

If she hadn't been before, Swan's need for confirmation made the younger woman positive that she wanted - no, needed - this. Wordlessly, Alex presses lightly against the back of Swan's head while her own hips move forward.

Her eyes close, feeling the warm heat of her lovers breath playing over the coarse hairs, wanting to know the wetness of the woman's tongue parting her. Her nipples harden as Swan's fingers play across her skin, her mouth on the brink of exploration. As Alex's fingers stroke gently through the woman's short hair, she can feel her own breathing quickening. "Please," she whispers, a note of desperation in the word.

Swan smiles darkly at the exquisite need echoing in Alex's voice. She hesitates for a heartbeat. Another. And another. Letting that desperation swell whiles her coy fingers and breath fan the flames. And then, just as that desperation peaks, she presses forward, the moist tip of her tongue sliding inside Alex in one silken motion. The luscious heat against her lips ignites her ardor, a hungry growl rumbling in her chest. Her hands on Alex's shapely behind pull the woman closer, so that she might taste deeper pleasures, her passionate mouth and Alex's flesh now indivisible.

All the while, Swan stares up at her lover, savoring every gasp, every delighted expression that she can coax out of her. Coyly, she draws away, but only for a second; her wicked tongue and lips resuming their sensual dance. Again and again, she does this, waves of pleasure crashing over Alex, then retreating, only to crash over her once more until the world drops away around them. And when Alex is hovering at that terrifying edge, Swan coaxes out that delicious nub of flesh with the tip of her tongue, so she might lavish it with attention.

With liquid grace, Swan's hand moves between Alex's thighs, her fingers supporting her, cradling her. Her smooth thumb parts the moistness below, sliding inside like a second tongue. But this one expertly shivers, sending an entirely different vibration deep, deep inside her lover, even as she continues to suckle and tease with her skilled mouth.

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