Celia/Roy's Sword

Celia sighed in annoyance. She'd hoped to spend the evening with Roy, and had even gone out and bought a naughty French Maid outfit. She'd showed up at the tavern they were staying at in some obscure desert town, and swung by his room to surprise him. He'd been quite happy to see her, and she'd scurried off to a closet to change into the costume. The black and white outfit showed off plenty of cleavage, and the frilly skirt barely went past her thighs. But just as she finished putting it on, Durkon had knocked on the door to inform Roy that Elan had gotten arrested for starting a Bard Battle and causing a riot. The Dwarf had then dragged him off, not giving him the chance to grab any of his gear or talk to Celia. And now she was sitting on Roy's bed, alone, frustrated at her now ruined evening.

But then she noticed something. Resting next to the bed was Roy's greatsword, its blade sheathed and its green hilt leaning against the wall. Hopping off the bed, the Sylph approached the weapon, a curious thought passing through her mind. Slowly, she reached out and ran a finger down the length of the blade's hilt. Her eyebrow arched, and she traced her fingertips back up the hilt before tapping the solid pommel a few times. A sly grin slowly spread across her face, and she quickly grabbed the sword from its rest place and headed back towards the bed, giggling mischeviously. Roy might not have been there to entertain her, but at least the evening wouldn't be a total loss…

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