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Sanguine essence mixed with the rotted water falling from the upper city as an old half-orc lay bleeding out, his throat slashed deeply. Unable to make a noise as his life faded, he looked deeply at the black-cloaked figure standing above him. He noticed the sigil on the cloak, and sighed deeply, the gurgle of blood filling his lungs and bubbling from the cut.

Without any attempt at talking, no words or explanation, his life ended. The thoughts that flew through his mind were scattered, trying to make sense of this. The man from House Tarkanan knelt down to the dying man and whispered a few words over him. The half-orc couldn't hear what was said, as his hearing had been replaced with a high-pitched ringing, but before his sight faded to black, he caught sight of the man's eyes. They were a deep blue, and despite the lack of tears, seemed to be full of regret.

Huh, at least his killer had a conscience.

As his victim heaved his last breath, the throaty death-rattle alerting him that his job was done, he slowly closed his mark's eyes. "Krokan Gro'urb, you have been sentenced to die for the crime of..." the man sighed, rubbing the side of his face. He hated jobs like these. The petty populace of Sharn had nothing better to do than kill each other for imagined offences. "... of killing the elf known as Alen Miadi's favorite falcon."

Amidst the rain, many had crowded around the murder, all silent. They knew the rule, and not one of them was drunk enough to go against it. The symbol of House Tarkanan, the Beholder, was etched plainly enough on the cloak to see.

If you see the symbol of House Tarkanan, and weren't already bleeding out, they were not there for you. Nobody called out or attempted to alert the Deneith Mercenaries that functioned as the guards in the district. They would probably laugh at you for wasting their time anyhow, seeing as they didn't want to mess with the House of Assassins any more than the regular folk did. It was sad, but it was the way of life in the district of Old Keep.

The assassin stood up slowly, before turning towards the crowd and walking into it, the people parting to let him by without resistance. He gave a final look to the dead body, destined to become carrion for whatever hungry animal would wander by tonight. He shook his head one last time and disappeared into the alleyway, away from prying eyes.

He stopped, standing in the murky water pooling at his feet as he looked at himself. Black hair kept short, yet it seemed to defy gravity and stayed standing up slightly. His black goatee was not as thick as his hair, but enough so that it gave some definition as it wrapped around his face and mouth. He snarled at the reflection and stomped on it, disrupting his image.

"I hate these jobs. And Haveron fucking knows it. Bastard." A hissing sound erupted from his right shoulder, and a twinge of pain erupted, causing him to suck in a breath. He knew better than to grab hold of damn mark, it would just hurt even more. Sighing, he looked upwards, staring at the towers that seemed to never end. "Guess I better report back a mission success. Now... get flying transport or walk an hour... hmm..."

His decision made, he started his long walk to get to the Dragon Towers district, home of the many guildhalls in Sharn, including his own. As he walked, he reached into his backpack, hidden beneath his Tarkanan cloak, and grabbed a plain hooded cloak. With a flourish, he ripped the cloak off and stuffed it in the bag, hiding his house sigil from view and replacing it with the new one.

Continuing on his way, eventually got to Castellan, the inn district of Lower Dura. Many shady business deals were happening, and a large amount of halflings were present. The Boromar Clan were busy today, it seemed. Ignoring the hustle and bustle as best as he could, the assassin moved on, attempting to find the nearest tower base that had an exterior ramp that he could use to travel up to Middle Dura. He had a bad feeling about the amount of Boromar that were active, and he wanted to get out of the crossfire if there was going to be a fight.

As he climbed the circular ramp on the exterior of the tower, the dampness, humidity, and endless rain seemed to give way to a lighter atmosphere, with ivy growing along the walls of many towers, and flowers sporadically blooming. The sun could actually be seen through the multitude of buildings that were blocking it from below.

The sound of voices and merchants shouting their prices soon filled the assassin's ears. As he broke through to the level of the Bazaar, he felt right at home. The press of bodies hid him well, and the various sights, sounds and smells of the marketplace seemed like home to him. He also saw a variety of guards from the Sharn Watch patrolling, ensuring that no riots or battles took place in this... relatively safe part of the City of Towers.

Relatively safe, because the guards didn't care if the merchants ripped you off, or if a cutpurse stole your money. But hey, you didn't have to worry about being attacked, for the most part.

Walking through the narrow streets lined with shops and stalls and being harassed by an uncountable number of vendors trying to grab his attention for this or that piece of junk, "priced a quarter of the amount cheaper than you'll get anywhere else!", he eventually broke free and found himself across the bridge leading to the Dragon Towers District.

The class divide in Sharn was put on display right here, where the bridge leading to the Bazaar was full of dinghy people, some with decent clothes, but others begging for alms with naught but rags on their bodies. But on the side of the Dragon Towers... a checkpoint of the Sharn Watch stood in the way between the two districts, and was only letting those that seemed reputable in. Or those that greased their palms enough.

After showing his papers to the guards, the assassin walked into a nice middle-class neighborhood, with prominent guildmembers walking the streets, surrounded by personal guards or crazed sycophants wanting a moment of their time. The sigils of the various Dragonmarked houses were flying their banners high above their guildhalls and the assassin couldn't help but glare at the pompous assholes that thought they controlled the entirety of Khorvaire.

Making his way down the street, he eventually came to his destination, the House Tarkanan guildhall. The stone building was well kept, as were most of the facilities in Dragon Tower. The sigil of house Tarkanan hung over the entrance, in a large, ornate flag, the beholder having much more detail than on the personal patches. What seemed to be an aberrant dragonmark was silhouetted on the background, with the beholder coming out of a shield, two of its many eyestalks holding a dagger and a quill respectively.

As he walked up the steps to the entrance, the two guards on either side of the doors asked him to halt. He sighed in exasperation. In a world filled with shapechangers and mages that could make themselves look like you, it was a necessary precaution, but one that annoyed him to no end.

"Hello Rickar, hello Gron. Here are my papers. Dextros reporting in to confirm a successful mission," the man grated out.

The guard on the left quickly took the identification and checked it out. "Papers look good. How have you been lately Flashblade?"

Dextros' eyes widened minutely at the callout. One of the rituals entering the base was a two-part call and response. The first part was completely normal, if he didn't respond with "Paper's always look good" they would detain him, but when they referred to him by his last name, the one he took at a tender age of 14, it meant that there was something going down on the inside, and he should be aware not to interfere.

Shaking out of his surprise, he gave the standard response. "Paper's always look good, Rickar. How about you?"

"Well, boss lady isn't in the most pleasant of moods. Heard there were some changes going on, and someone in the family did something they shouldn't've." He sighed loudly. "It sucks being the guard sometimes."

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll make sure to avoid her. Guess I have to talk to Haveron to get everything settled." Dextros made an exaggerated shivering motion to which the two guards laughed. Haveron didn't make it easy on anyone in House Tarkanan, with his uptight, holier-than-thou attitude, and didn't have a lot of friends within the house. However, as one of the oldest members of the house, and his information network all across Sharn, he was the best person for the job of gauging mission difficulty and handing out assignments.

He also held an extremely petty grudge against Dextros for surpassing his mission record.

Slipping inside the building, Dex waved hello to the variety of workers within the entrance hall and proceeded to the back rooms where he would confirm the contract completion and receive his pay.

The office hallway was nicely decorated, with fine dark wood planks covered in a waxy sheen, matching the doors and elaborate trim that broke the monotony of the cream walls. A few paintings and portraits decorated the walls, all of high quality and worth more than a few average assassination contracts, to be sure.

Dextros finally arrived at the door he desired, a plain door with absolutely no difference from the others, so as to hide the entrance to the contract room better. It was a better defense than most thought. Unless you knew which door to go to, threw open every door, or were just absurdly lucky, you wouldn't be getting in.

After knocking out a quick code, the assassin opened the door, seeing Haveron and his lizardfolk assistant sorting through a variety of scrolls and placing them in small crates. "Good afternoon Baron Haveron, Lady Keknu."

Keknu, the pale green lizard-humanoid nodded cordially in response, before returning to her work. Haveron, looked up with squinted eyes at Dextros before grumbling under his breath. Clearing his throat with a deep hacking sound that wracked his older body, he spoke. "_Baron_Dextros," he said with venom in the title, "I expected you to be here a lot sooner. The target was a slummer who never picked up a weapon in his life from what the reports stated. Shouldn't have been much trouble for someone of your _esteemed_record." The old man went back to his scrolls, picking one up and squinting at the writing on it.

Closing his eyes to hide the eye-roll, Dex gave him a placating smile before stating, "I felt like scouting through Castellan before heading back. A lot of activity down there today. Boromar activity. Seemed like they were gearing up for something big."

"Ha! Big bad gang of halflings get you anxious boy? We're allies of the Boromar, nothing bad is going to happen to us."

Dextros felt some of the tension leave his shoulders at that. Haveron might have been an ass, but he was dedicated to the family, and if he had heard anything, he wouldn't have dismissed the idea so readily.

"Aye, I suppose you're right. Either way, Gro'urb is dead for killing some elf's falcon. Petty of the elf, if you ask me."

Haveron's eyes shot up at that, and Dextros could almost feel all of the years of experience that the old man had operating as an assassin pierce into him. In a strong voice that belied his age, Haveron spoke, "It is not our place to question their motives, Dextros. We provide a service, and if we denied every job that didn't fit into our moral compass, we wouldn't have the reputation, skills, or assets that we have today."

Dextros let a heavy sigh escape him. "I understand, logically. But I often find myself wondering if it is worth it. May I speak plainly, Baron Haveron?"

Putting down his scroll and looking towards Keknu, Haveron motioned for her to leave. With another wordless nod, the green-scaled woman picked up a crate and left out the back door. After she left, the old man eyed the younger seriously. "Speak freely."

Nodding slightly with a grimace, Dextros started, "I understand you don't like me Haveron. I moved up the ranks and ascended to the title of Baron more quickly than any other assassin in House Tarkanan. I also know that on a more personal level, you resent me for breaking your mission record. As much as I would like to apologize for any kind of affront I've caused, I cannot in good conscience, as all I've done is do my best to support the family."

He paused, but after gathering his thoughts, he continued, "I understand that we accept contracts on people who don't really deserve to die. It is one of our main sources of income." Dextros' tone became harder, raising his voice slightly, "But lately I can't help but think that I have more to give than just killing random people off the street, that we can direct our skills to a purpose, rather than just an existence!" By the time he was finished speaking, he was almost yelling, but the old man just kept the same serious gaze that he had the entire time that Dex was speaking.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the younger assassin finished his impassioned speech, "What I am trying to say, is that I would like to pick my own contracts from now on. Those that I feel have a purpose beyond a petty grudge or a random desire to end a life. As not just a Baron, but one of the best assassins in the family, I feel like I am being wasted on minor contracts such as these."

The tension was thick in the air as Dextros waited on a reply, but all Haveron was giving him was a furrowed brow, and a slight frown. With a deep sigh, the old man finally lowered his head before speaking, "You young ones are so passionate these days. That's why I prefer Keknu's company, lizardfolk think with their brains, not their hearts." He paused a moment, waiting for a reaction from Dextros that he didn't receive. "I will have to discuss this with Countess Thora. But I shall endeavor to convince her to allow it. You are correct. On a personal level, I do not enjoy your company. But your service to the family has been unprecedented, and I believe you are due some just deserts."

Letting out the breath he was holding, Dextros smiled genuinely at the old man. "It is much appreciated, Baron Haveron. Now, I believe we have some unfinished business?" He smirked, holding up the contract on the half-orc.

"Ah, yes." Haveron opened the drawer to his desk, pulling out a stamp, an inkwell, and a quill. Dextros quickly handed him the scroll, which the old man took and skimmed through. He moved over to the side of the room where a shelf of small cubicles held various scrolls that were open. He picked one seemingly at random - Dextros had no idea how he kept track of where each scroll was - and returned to his desk before pulling out a small, lightly clinking pouch and tossing it to the younger man. "20 Platinum Dragons, for a standard manslaughter case with no frills."

The assassin grimaced as he caught the light pouch. He never liked that they were paid in Dragons, simply because nobody in their right mind - which he supposed excluded the nobles - would be caught using a platinum coin to purchase anything. Everything large purchase these days were processed through Letters of Credit, but he supposed 20 coins were easier to hide than a large pouch of 200 Gold Galifars. He mentally sighed, he would have to stop at the bank.

A knock from the back room caught their attention as Keknu stepped back into the room. "Baron Dextros," she began in a throaty monotone, "I am glad to have caught you before you left. An Orien courier just dropped off a message for you."

He blinked at the proffered scroll. He didn't have too many people that he kept in touch with, and a letter out of the blue like this was odd. Taking it slowly, he took out a dagger and ripped the seal off, letting it unfurl in his hands.

Looking at the greeting, he couldn't help but smile. Looks like he had somewhere to go after the bank after all.

~_~_~_~_~_~

"Isha, you little fucking dragon-slut! It's been two years!" The light red (don't let her catch you calling her pink) scaled kobold turned towards the shout, her wings flaring in surprise before she let out a barking laugh. With a downward thrust, she was in the air and launching towards Dextros at high speeds.

She slammed all two-and-a-half feet of herself into him, wrapping her arms around him as he grunted and fell over from the sudden attack. She rubbed her head against his chest before looking up at him cutely, squeaking out, "I missed you!" before attempting to burrow her face as tightly against his armor as possible.

It took a few seconds, but she tensed up and jerked her head towards his grinning face and narrowing her eyes. "Dragon-slut? That's what you came up with? You're such an ass." She punched him lightly in the chest before pumping her wings again and reverting to a standing position and crossing her arms as she glared at him.

The woman Isha had been talking to, a blonde woman with an almost unnatural beauty, smiled at the scene before meandering over and offering a hand to the poor man who had been tackled and assaulted. "Good evening to you Dextros." She smiled as she helped him up.

"Ah, thanks Velvet." Dex blushed as he scratched the back of his head.

"It was no problem. Honestly, I should have known that you would come as soon as Isha sent you the message that she was back. If I hadn't seen you and Koszikas over at Chance's I would have thought you dead. You never seem to come around when Isha is gone."

"Well, I don't mean to offend, but..."

"No, I understand. My establishment isn't for everyone, even if you were my best customer during your younger years. Despite only ever paying for Isha."

The small kobold decided to interject herself at that moment. "Maybe you're the dragon-slut Dex."

His face in a deadpan, he poked her in the head, between her two crest-like horns. "You're not a dragon, Isha, so that would make me a kobold-slut. Besides, I just paid for you so that the other guys couldn't take advantage of your naiveté and innocence. The most we did was just cuddle, and that was completely you."

Her pink face did turn red at that, before she huffed and turned away, smacking him with her tail. Dextros couldn't help but smile. She was just the same as she was when he met her, almost 6 years ago.

~

Rain fell, as was the standard in Sharn. Dextros was flitting across the balconies that functioned as a secondary street over the main Dragoneyes district, following his mark as he wandered around the brothels, bordellos, and gambling houses that littered the red-light-district.

As a new inductee into House Tarkanan at the tender age of 14, this was his first job that he was allowed to work solo. His mark, a bastard of a dwarf named Borhak Blackmane had been known to take what was not for sale in one of the other red-light districts here in Sharn. He was actually the one that was there when a prostitute came into one of the Tarkanan outposts in Sharn's Welcome, the other low-end brothel district.

The dwarf had decided he liked to pick on people littler than him, and the only one that was in the brothel he decided to visit was the prostitute's younger sister. She was only five.

Needless to say, he requested that his initiation contract was this amoral stain upon Eberron. He did his research, talked to a few of his contacts, and found some pretty disgusting things out about Borhak.

One thing he did find was that he was fairly competent with a blade. But that didn't really matter, as an assassin's greatest strength was the fact that nobody knew he was there until they were dead, or as good as.

He finally found the bastard as he was taking another midnight stroll to find some entertainment for the rest of the night. It was also his last day in Sharn before he shipped out to the capital of Breland. It was the only time to complete the contract.

He was waiting for the dwarf to take a route less traveled, as the current walkway was bustling despite the late hour. As the gambling capital of Sharn, Dragoneyes was always busy, no matter the time. Unfortunately for Dextros, before leaving to a side alley, the dwarf seemed to find what he was looking for in a tastefully decorated building with a sign outside reading "Velvet's".

Dextros hissed in disappointment. He had no desire to simply rush in and kill the man in front of so many witnesses. House Tarkanan was powerful, but this place was controlled by the Tyrants. It would be bad form to impede on their stomping grounds, especially when a Tyrant could be anyone.

He would have to wait until the man emerged from whatever debauchery he would commit. With luck, he wouldn't find anyone that fit his usual desires, but he would have to wait and see.

When the dwarf did not emerge after half-an-hour, Dextros sighed. A wait it would be then, and a long night amidst the smell of stale water, sweat, and incense that wafted from the various storefronts. He sat on the edge of a balcony that was across from Velvet's, waiting for any sign of Borhak.

"AH! No, that wasn't part of the deal, don't touch those!"

Immediately, Dextros' eyes went from the entrance to the open windows across from him. He spotted his mark holding something pink down underneath his naked body, and she seemed to be fighting back.

Rage filled his body and before he could even think about what was happening, he had pulled his grappling hook out of his climbing gear before swinging it towards a balcony further up on the tower, his shoulder hissing and burning in agony all the while..

Jumping forward and letting gravity do the rest, he launched himself through the window, landing in a near silent roll, his training embedded into his muscle memory.

The last thing that Borhak felt was a knife stabbing into his spine at the base of his neck, cutting off all sensation below his head. His body immediately went limp as he fell to the floor, loosening his grip upon the kobold's wing that seemed to be torn out of its socket.

Not taking his eyes off of the shocked dwarf, Dextros recited the Tarkanan Farewell. "Borhak Blackmane, you have been sentenced to die for the crimes of the rape and murder of Sofria of Sharn on account of her sister, Solari of Sharn. On a more personal note, I hope you rot in the deepest pits of Khyber, you piece of horseshit."

Hearing a soft whimper from the young Kobold still laying face-down on the bed, Dextros turned and knelt down next to her. "It's okay, he won't hurt you again." She seemed to move her head deeper into the bed, trying to hide away. The assassin frowned softly, but continued, "I won't either, despite me hurting him. He deserved it though, as I am sure you can agree."

A short sniffle and a slight nod were all he got from her, so he sighed and sat down next to the bed, his back turned to make her more comfortable. "My name is Dextros, but my friends call me Dex. What can I call you?"

Without looking at her, he could tell from the shifting sounds behind him that she was looking at him. In a small, frail voice, she told him her name, "I-Isha."

Not turning his head, he smiled. "That's a pretty name. What's a little kobold like you doing working here at a changeling brothel?"

She sounded indignant as she told him, "I'm not little! I'm fourteen! And full grown!"

He risked a glance backwards, seeing her small face lit up red by her blush and cute glare. It melted his heart a little, and he smiled up at her before saying, "Huh, me too."

~

"Dextros! Hello? Are you stuck in Dal Quor?"

Shaking his head at the sudden memory, Dextros was the perfect example of erudition and verbosity. "Huh?"

"You got a goofy look on your face for a second there and didn't respond for a few seconds. Thought you might have been stuck in the plane of dreams." Isha responded, looking up at the twenty-year-old, sullen at being ignored.

"Oh, nah. I was just... remembering the first time we met." She went still at the thought and shook her head to rid herself of the bad thoughts.

"Yeah, fucker almost ripped my wing off. I still look back on that night and wonder what might have happened if you hadn't shown up."

A grimace crossed Dex's face. "Nothing good, based on his previous work." He looked around, noting that Velvet had wandered off at some point in his reminiscing. "So, how has your journey of transformation been? Turned into a dragon yet?"

"Hah! As if," she smiled, shaking her head, "The transformation has been more... subtle. The Giver of Gifts has smiled upon my progress though. I found quite a few treasures and learned a lot about more of my magic as an acolyte of the Traveler. I bet you and Koszikas couldn't even touch me with my illusion and healing spells now."

Dextros couldn't help but smile genially at her, looking down into her eyes. She got more and more red as the moment dragged on, before she huffed and turned away, asking testily, "What are you smiling at, you goof?"

He chuckled at her tone for a moment, before responding seriously, "I'm just glad you're back. I've missed my little partner-in-crime."

She groaned at him, "What's with the little jokes? I get it. I only come up to your dick. Fuck off."

That was new. A blush adorned Dextros' face for once at the crassness of the comment. "Those sailors you were traveling with teach you that language?"

"Yeah, sure Dex. Whatever you wanna think." She paused, before looking back to her friend. "Come on, let's go eat somewhere. I'm starved, and I promise you don't have to pay Velvet for my time anymore, just for my dinner."

With a short staccato laugh, Dex motioned for her to follow and started walking towards their favorite place to eat, the Lava Pit, down in the Cogs. Despite the neighborhood, it was one of the better places to eat, and they served a mean spicy barbecue, Shadow Marches style.

~_~_~_~_~_~

After eating, Isha announced that she would be staying with her "absolutely wonderful, amazing and generous friend", to which Dextros had simply pointed at himself questioningly. At her nod, he rolled his eyes, but since he had a couple of extra rooms in case he had to do any long-term training for new members of the family, he was fine with it.

It was getting dark as they made their way up the City of Towers, heading towards the high-class residential district of Oceanview. Dextros looked over to his companion as she whistled in awe at the various high-class residences they were walking past. "Someone has been moving up in the world. I remember getting kicked out of this neighborhood when we were younger."

"Well, it pays well to be Tarkanan's best assassin," he bragged, allowing a little bit of pride to infuse his voice. "That and a lot of saving up money. Remember that little nest egg I started about six months before you left?"

She nodded after a moment of thought, before deciding to clarify, "The one contract for the adventuring group that paid a ridiculous amount because they were damn good?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I ended up netting about six thousand gold from that alone. It was my first job as a Senior Assassin, so the payout was higher. Went on a little spending spree but I put about five in an account in the Kundarak Bank. After that, put the majority of my profits from the jobs I took into the account, and before I knew it, I had about sixteen thousand gold that I purchased this house with. It's on the low end of the wealthier houses, but it's still so much better than any other house I've lived in."

She hummed slightly, waving her tail back and forth as they walked. "I can't wait to see it."

"You won't have to wait long, its right around the corner."

His house, like all the others, were built into the towers that made up Sharn. However, it was clearly set apart from the others, being one of the base houses for Oceanview. It rose three stories before being blocked off by the second level balcony street that started the next house. The street entrance was humble, with just a small front yard and garden, a path leading through the small shrubs to the large mahogany double doors. A small crest of House Tarkanan was proudly displayed, carved into the center of where the doors met at the top.

Dextros smiled at Isha's awestruck face, gently pushing up on her lower jaw to close her mouth. As they started walking through the garden, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the many moons of Eberron shone down, allowing the true splendor of the garden to be shown. Slowly but surely, the flowers that were just buds started to open up and began to glow a soft white in the moonlight.

A quick gasp escaped the kobold as she gazed, mesmerized by the flowers. "Moonflowers?" she asked.

A soft chuckle came from Dex as he said, "You said they were your favorite flower. After planting them and working with them, they've become mine as well. A lot of the nobles around here actually come by and compliment me on them and ask me for some cuttings to add to their own gardens."

Before he could blink, she was wrapped up around his leg, her head on the outside of his hip. He patted her softly on her head, before he heard a small sniffle. She looked up at him with watery eyes as she smiled, a soft smile, not her usual trouble-making grin.

"You're an amazing person, Dextros, don't ever forget that."

He could only smile awkwardly, remembering some of his darker moments as an assassin. Coughing to clear his throat, he announced, "Alright, let's show you the inside now."

After a quick tour of the house, showing her the bottom floor as the leisure and training area, the second floor taken up by a small den that had a balcony leading to a wonderful view of the ocean and a rather large kitchen and dining hall, he finally made it to the third floor, the living area.

"There are three suites up here, two guest and the master, along with my personal library and study. I will be down here," he pointed towards the left, where two doors were made apparent, "and you can choose whichever guest suite you would like. They both have a huge bedroom, a personal bathing area, lounge, and a balcony. I do have a maid that comes and cleans the house weekly, she is due in tomorrow. I'll be sure to leave her a note stating that I have a guest so that there aren't any surprises, though she is used to me occasionally putting up a member of the family, so she shouldn't be too startled."

"This is almost too much, Dex..." Isha shook her head, "I almost feel as if I should be paying you for the privilege of even staying here."

"Nonsense. You're my best friend. I actually..." he paused. "Ah, nevermind."

She quirked her head at that. "No, come on. Tell me. You know I'd never laugh at you."

After a second of thought, and breathing a heavy breath out of his nose in exasperation, Dex continued, "I actually bought a three-suite home because, well... I always wanted to make sure that I had room for you and Koszikas. Whether that was temporarily, or even on a more permanent basis."

Wow. Dex thought, I've been getting a lot of hugs today.

Sure enough, she was latched onto him again, rubbing her face into his hip like an overly large cat. An overly large, scaly, winged cat.

After a minute of her tender affections - it felt like he was chafing on the outside of his hip from her scales rubbing through his leather - he had had enough. "Alright, alright, I get it, I'm awesome. Now, I'm not sure about you, but I've had a pretty eventful day. I'm gonna hit the hay."

She looked up at him with those adorable pale-lavender eyes that he had missed so much these past two years and nodded resolutely, her serious façade broken by her jaws opening wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth in the scariest - yet cutest - yawn Dextros had ever seen. "I'll see you tomorrow, Isha. Have a good night."

With one last smile, he turned and entered his suite, beginning his nightly ritual to prepare for bed.

~_~_~_~_~_~

It was dark, and the candles had gone out. The light of the twelve moons illuminated his room decently, but it was dim. Dextros was unsure of what had awoken him, but as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he heard it again. A soft knock, before his door creaked open, allowing entrance to his small kobold houseguest.

He could think only of one reason why she would bother him in the middle of the night, and almost immediately, he raised his bedsheets in an open invitation to join him. A small, see-through nightgown rested over her shoulders, a pale-lavender to match her eyes, glowing softly in the moonlight.

Seeing the invitation, she sauntered over to him, easily slipping into his bed on her side, facing towards him. He allowed the covers to fall, and with a sleepy smile on his face, he leaned towards her and kissed her snout, before taking his arm and wrapping it around the small of her back, drawing her closer.

He could get used to this.