Family Traditions

Dipping my quill in the jar of ink before me a final time, I finished the scroll before me. It was just a simple scroll, one I've had a lot of practice with, but somehow I felt a little on edge today. It had been a year since I started my priest training, and my parents also encouraged me taking up the role of an inscriber. At first I had liked it, I always used to go out and gather plants and herbs anyway, but I quickly discovered the actually inscribing to be quite tedious work. So, glad be done, I pushed my chair back, and walked over to my window. It was late afternoon, and the crimson colors in the sky fit the sight from my window. I had always thought Silvermoon to be a beautiful city, although I had to admit I didn't have much in comparison. The times I had actually travelled could be counted on a single hand.

I always thought my upbringing was rather strict, even for Sin'dorei standards. Coming from a wealthy family though, I guess it was to be expected. Me and my brother were suppose to behave to do the family honour. Mehlar was forced to take up mage training, which he detested. More than once I'd snuck into his room while he was out in some seedy bar on the outskirts of the city, to rummage to his stuff. He had all sorts of books on demon magic, and other, more disturbing things. I'd never gone off and told our parents though, because I know how he can be when pushed to his limits.

On the contrary, I was quite content with the path my parents had chosen for me. So far, it seems like priest training fit me well. I was never one to be in the center of attention, as mages are, and my instructor had already praised me more than once on a succesfull healing spell. These thoughts were drifting to my tired mind as I stood before the window, looking out. Sounds from downstairs startled me, and I was reminded I'd have to get ready for dinner. So I quickly cleaned my inkstained hands, and bound my long blonde hair up, fastening it with a silver clip, inset with small emeralds. Exchanging my work robes for more formal ones, I made my way down the stairs, and into the dining hall.

==

Annoyed, I grabbed the coins I'd slammed on the table minutes before, and stuffed them into the small purse that was attacted to my belt. As much as I wanted to learn the warlock secrets for myself, dealing with them was something I always regretted. I had asked one of my contacts in Murder Row to aquire some books on the subject, and I was yet again disappointed. Striding outside, I blinked as my eyes were confronted by the low-hanging afternoon sun. I cursed, knowing I would probably be late for dinner with my dear family. Thinking about my parents, all they thought about was public appearance, and their damn family honour. And my sweet, sweet little sister. Always so perfect, doing everything our parents could be proud of.

Thinking about that didn't help my mood, and I nearly ripped my robe when it got stuck behind one of the stupid cast iron benches. I quickly decided on screwing my family, and just get a bite to eat in one of the inns around the area, and probably drink away until everyone in the house was asleep. I made my way to the inn, and sat down at an empty table near the back. I absentmindedly let some arcane magics flow through my fingers, something I did when I was bored, when the waitress approached me. A slim little elf, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and breasts. Here, in the back-alley of the city, the waitresses wore wildly different clothes you would find in a place like the Bazaar's tavern. A flowy robe, barely containing the elfs tits, which was open at her back, revealing a large part of her naked skin. She was expecting an order, so I told her to get me whatever they had on the menu today, and a large bottle of Hearthglen Ambrosia. The girl jotted down my order, and walked back to the bar, her hips swaying slightly.

The waitress had returned quickly with my order, a tasteless stew that should probably be illegal to be sold as food. I did finish it though, because downing a bottle of wine on an empty stomach wasn't smart, as I'd discovered on an earlier visit. So now I just sat in the robust chair, sipping from my glass, watching the people in the inn. My gaze kept wandering back to the slim little waitress. She bounded around the inn, bending over the bar to grab a clean wipe. The way her ass stretched the soft fabric of her robe left me more than a little bothered.

A while later, when the wine had made my head fuzzy and my body restless, the girl came over again. Asking if I were okay, and if I needed something before the bar closed. I waved her away, knowing that if I'd drink more I'd have trouble finding my way home without accident. My gaze followed the girl once again as she walked away. My lust growed by the second, and images in my head showed her bend over the bar, taking my cock hungrily. A quick scan of the room showed me there was barely anyone left, just a pair of Forsaken quietly drinking near the bar. Without really thinking, I focused a small firebolt in between my hands below the table. When I was sure nobody was paying attention to it, I directed it to a few candles behind the Forsaken couple. I nearly jumped myself at the explosion that followed, candlewax and fire flying everywhere. The waitress ran over to the guests, and tried to douse some of the fire while apologizing profusely. I almost chuckled when I saw the corpses checking for any lost limbs, and then quickly leaving after paying the stressed out girl.

The blonde elf was still cleaning up the mess when I approached her from behind. Rubbing hard to remove the candlewax, her whole frame shaked. I firmly placed my hand on her lower back, while caressing her slim ass with the other. "What.. what are you doing?!" the girl exclaimed. Bending over her, I brought my mouth close to her ear while rubbing my growing lust against her, I told her it was no use in fighting it, and that she'd enjoy it soon.