Lori wasn't just drunk - she was sloshed. Hammered. Shitfaced. Three sheets to the wind. Whatever other euphemisms that might apply, they applied to the pixie on this particular evening. She sat at the edge of the bed and took another swig from a bottle of moonshine. She'd bought it from a shady-looking Goblin, but he had sold her the strong stuff before and she hadn't been poisoned. Yet. She was reasonably sure this time would be fine like the others. The bed Lori sat on was not her own. It was a plush, luxurious fluffy bed covered in purple satin sheets, black fleece blankets, and numerous frilly pillows in various shades of pink and violet. It was the softest thing thing she had ever slept in, and her own bed was fairly soft to begin with. The room around the little blonde Elf was spinning. Or was it she who was spinning? It didn't really matter anymore. She was pleasantly numb and giggling to herself, and that was all she cared about for the time being. She barely even felt it when she shoved one hand into her panties and began to rub herself. Lori's fingers were short and nimble, and a pleasant warmth quickly began to spread through her belly. She laid back on the bed, and brought the other hand up to caress her nipples through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Her eyes fluttered closed, and the image of her husband came into focus. She imagined his strong, rough hands caressing her smooth, white skin as they had done so many months ago. The scruffy stubble and whiskers on his chin would caress her throat and tickle it as his lips grazed the delicate flesh. Lori's hand stilled, and she let out a long, slow, heavy breath. Vidaar wasn't there with her, and he probably never would be again. He was laying in the infirmary, still too near death for any of the healers to say for certain whether or not he would pull through. Even if he did, would he come back? Lori doubted it. The other woman, Kiva, was far better than she was. Kiva was tall and thin, and very beautiful. She had that incredible red hair that cascaded down her back and... A quiet sob passed Lori's lips. How could she have possibly thought that he would wait for her? She didn't know how long she had been away, but it was apparently long enough to have been forgotten and replaced. The pixie-like Elf withdrew the hand from her panties and brushed it across the extra padding still present on her lower belly. Instead grabbed one of the many plush pink pillows. She sat up, swaying in place, and threw the pillow against the wall with all her might. Despite the loud grunt she uttered, the pillow fell harmlessly to the floor. She picked up a second pillow and heaved it with equally great force. The yell that echoed through the room was hoarse from the booze and tears, but it felt good to shout. The anger building in the Warrior's veins was burning and intense, and in the absence of ability to destroy something, the next best thing was to throw pillows and scream her head off. Lori continued throwing pillows and yelling until the door to the bedroom opened. She quickly fell silent, eyes wide and innocent. A tall, statuesque Adonis of an Elf stepped through the door and into her room. The pink robe he wore could not entirely conceal the muscular figure underneath, and the man's golden hair fell to his waist in glamorously messy waves. He blinked blearily over at Lori. "What in the Light's name are you doing in here, sweetie?" Lori swallowed sheepishly, and she swayed drunkenly as she looked between the blonde god and the pile of pillows laying at the bottom of the wall across from the bed. "Not doin' shit," Lori finally replied. "Go back to bed." Clearly, the other man did not believe her. He shuffled into the room (with his fuzzy purple bunny slippers) and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He slung an arm around the tiny blonde woman's shoulders and drew her to him in a tight hug. "Come here, you. What on Azeroth have you been drinking, Lori? You smell like a tavern." He snatched the bottle of moonshine off of the bed, uncapped it, and took a whiff. He turned his head and gagged while waving the fumes away for his nose. "THIS is going in the trash. And - no. Lori, don't you even try getting it back. This stuff will kill you, silly girl." He mussed Lori's hair with one of his callused, manicured hands. "What if that'sh what I was tryin' to so?" Lori glared daggers at her brother as the bottle was snatched away. "All the better why I took it away, then." Firalaine gave his sister a hard, fierce look. "You have barely been out of this room in two days, and I'm worried about you. This isn't like you, sweetheart." Lori slumped against Firalaine and her ears wilted miserably. "Firry," she stated, trying with all her might not to slur her words. "I got nothing left to live for. I shoulda stayed missing, or died like he thought I did. Maybe I should just leave again. Sign up for the war effort and get myself killed that way. It'd be better for everyone that way." Firalaine's own expression saddened as Lori spoke. He squeezed her shoulders again. "Aelorien Lasthanel Sundersun, you listen to me. You stop talking that way right now, or I'm going to take away all your weapons to make sure you don't do anything else stupid." "But -" "But nothing," Firalaine interrupted harshly. "I don't care why you think death is better than your life right now. Did you survive that wound in the Troll Wars just to off yourself because some douchebag dumped you?" Lori snarled and punched Firalaine in the shoulder with one tiny fist. He don't even flinch. "He is...not a douchebag," she hissed. "He's my husband and you're gonna respect him!" "Respect him? Why, sweetheart? I've never even met the guy, for one. Second, he screwed around on you and broke your heart. I don't care if you're still married to him. He's still a douchebag." Lori gave Firalaine a filthy look and ran a hand through her already-messy hair. "What if I give 'im a taste of his own medicine, Fir? Go fuck every man and woman that'll have me? Think he'd even care?" "Lori. No. You know you would hate yourself if you did something like that, dear. All that fuss about waiting for your eventual husband, and then you go out and do THAT?" "But you did that," Lori interjected, pouting. "Just because I did it doesn't mean that you should." Firalaine looked slightly miffed. "Besides, that was half a century ago and I'm the young and irresponsible one anyway. You're supposed to be the mature one." "If that's so, we're all screwed." "Maybe. You've taken care of us pretty well so far, big sis." Firalaine kissed his sister's hair affectionately. "What if... Maybe that might work." Lori tapped a finger on her lips, which were pursed in thought. "What if I offer to share him? Maybe he'd still want me if I didn't make him leave the other woman." Firalaine sighed heavily, gently took Lori's shoulders, and turned her to face him. "Sweetie. Just because I do something doesn't mean you should do it. Didn't we just go over that? And besides, you deserve someone who loves you and only you. People like me don't really care so much about that, but people like you? Love, you waited a hundred fifty years before you even slept with anyone. And if I'm right, you've still only slept with that one. Right?" Lori nodded silently. "Like I said. You deserve better. I can't make you listen to me, but I have a lot more experience than you in this situation. If there's still any love there, he won't make you choose to be with both him and his mistress. That isn't fair to you." "But I was gone, Fir. He thought I was dead." "Did he? Or was he looking for an excuse to go fuck other women and not get in trouble for it?" "He is NOT LIKE THAT!" Lori, still drunk, hauled off and slammed a fist into her own leg. "Fuck!" "Calm down. Lori, calm down before you hurt yourself." Firalaine took big of Lori's hands and squeezed them in his own. A gentle wave of Light flowed through him and into her, and the little blonde woman slowly began to both calm down and sober up. "Fir. I don't wanna go on if he leaves. Whether that means he dies or he just leaves me, doesn't matter." She spoke in a flat, even tone. "He's not worth your life, Lori. Listen to me, please. You have to pull yourself out of this funk. Do you think he'd even want to be around you if you're mopey and going on about how you don't want to live anymore? This sort of behavior isn't like you and I really don't like it." "How do you want me to be my old self anymore? When I have this to deal with? Fir, you've never been married. How could you even know how I feel?" Lori looked every bit as stubborn as a lame mule in that moment, her brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. "You're right, Lori. I haven't ever been married. You know why? Same reason you never were. Even though I enjoy pleasurable company, it doesn't mean I want to be with them forever. I want something that will last, if it ever does happen. And I want the same for you. If this Vidaar is going to last, you don't give up your own happiness just to avoid losing him. You stand your ground and be that stubborn little imp you always have been." Lori did not reply. She nodded, however, and wilted even further. She laid her head on Firalaine's muscled shoulder, and in a matter of moments was asleep and snoring lightly. Firalaine sighed once again and gently tucked his sleeping sister in under the covers, and kissed her forehead before quietly standing up and leaving her to sleep off the alcohol. Poor kid, he thought. She's going to have a heck of a hangover in the morning. Maybe I'll give her a coupon for a spa treatment. ...I wonder if she'd mind company?
