Arcanist Xalendyra

She slipped out of her giant bed - her former marital bed, now empty and all for her. Renovations were well underway. She could hear the faroff thuds of magical hammering, which she wished would be a little more quiet. Her hangover was *killing* her.

She shuffled to the bathroom and relieved herself, yawning as she sat on the toilet. With a lazy flick of her hand she magically turned on the tap for the bathtub and levitated some freesia-scented bubble bath into the water. She had no clue if Alarun was back or not after their Orgrimmar drinking excursion and it wasn't her business. She smiled to herself, kicking off her underwear and pulling off her nightgown. Then she sank into the tub, playing with the bubbles as they grew in number into a thick foam.

Alarun. He was admittedly a good lay. And she'd been with many. She thought of him - every inch - and her hand snaked between her legs. No one was here, why not? He hadn't left her *wanting* but he was not here now, and the bath was so *warm*.

She didn't need a cock to be satisfied. It was just icing on the cake.

Besides, now she had one more person who could help her in that department. Speaking of *him*. Perhaps she should reach out to Saviero again. He had a tendency to isolate himself, like her. She should check in on him and perhaps invite him to stay with her, too. After all, the estate was large, and she could start a collection of lovers. *Artist* lovers. Ooh, that thought appealed. A gloomy writer and an effervescent artist. Who else could she add?