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The Southwinds I 8
IN THE PROVINCE OF OUR KIND
___________________________________________________________ Corvio's shuttle en route to the Grand Forum, Kalahasi 35'6'195'5
Kalén held a wing up to her silver and gold headdress, keeping it low over her beak. A gust of wind buffeted against the wide flanges of the thing threatening to whip it off her head for what seemed like the eighth time. Kalén preferred her enclosed luxury shuttle to Corvio's sleek open air transport. The male hawk reclined and winked at Kalén, seeming to find humor in her constant losing battle with the turbulent wind flow. Every slight bump in the air threw her carefully balanced headdress askew.
"Just take it off, Kal," Corvio chawed. He nudged his beak towards his own ministerial headdress resting on the seat next to him.
"Hmph, that's quite alright," she huffed. "Just tell your pilot to slow up."
"Where's the fun in that?" Corvio asked. "My beautiful kiyre wasn't built to go slow and low."
The Southwinds I 6
___________________________________________________________Dining hall, Artimea Priory 22'6'195'5
The raven, Laia, glared across the low mesa table at Rikaio. The jay slumped down on his perch, averting his gaze. The two magpies sulked on either side of Rikaio, content enough to ignore him. The end of the long dining hall was deserted save for the four birds being punished with no food. Content sounds of eating and relaxation carried over to their mesa from the other young Ílarte, who were all delightedly scoffing down their evening meals of roasted rockworms and seasoned fish. The aromas of food were too much for Rikaio. He doubled over, his feathers bristling as he tried to hide the aching groan in his gut.
Laia snorted at him.
"Hungry?" the raven sneered. "You're lucky they didn't throw you to the wind after what you started."
"I didn't start anything," Rikaio kept his gaz
The Southwinds I 7
___________________________________________________________Sanctum of the Sibyls, Kalahasi 35'6'195'5
The silence was finally broken.
the smooth timbre of a female voice filled the darkened chamber.
Advocate Skalfen stood motionless in the small cone of light shining down from a spotlight fixed into the high arched ceiling.
a second, more florid, disembodied voice spoke up. <i>
IronmanHear me read it
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
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