The water in the bathtub is beginning to cool but is still hot-tub warm. A resemblance that's all the more comparable now due to the scrubbing bubbles which are tingling over my skin from the cleaning stone working its magic.

Cinnamon, her hair and ears now wrapped in a towel and piled onto her head, is still soaking. Giggling and cooing at the effervescent water tickling at her sensitive regions.

"Ready to get out?" I say to the ladies. Delightful as the idea of staying in the now slightly frothing water is, I have a lot to do before tonight.

"Not quite yet." Cinnamon shakes her head then lifts her hand to inspect her fingers. "Soon though. I'm starting to get wrinkly."

Cinni, grape or raisin, you're still just as sweet." I say, taking Cinnamon's hand and kissing her, true enough, wrinkled fingertips.

Charm vs Cinnamon Butter: Success!

I hear her titter-coo as I turn to regard Kryst.

Weirdly enough, even after what we've just done, I still feel a little awkward being naked with a couple of centerfold-hot ladies. I quell the butterflies in my belly and lean over, offering Kryst the platform of my palm as she slowly paddles about like one of those wind-up bath toys.

"How 'bout you, hot pocket?" I ask, rising to step out of the tub.

"I think so." Kryst breaststrokes into my hand and I lift her up. Breathing hard Kryst flickers her wings dry as I transfer her to my shoulder then move to the towel rack. I remove a fluffy green towel and begin to pat myself dry.

"Can you hand me one of those, Too Tall?" Kryst says pointing at a couple of the smaller hand or face cloth sized towels hanging on the wall rack.

I'm stunned for a moment. That actually sounded like a request instead of an order. If I keep this up there was a distinct possibility I might eventually get a 'please' tacked on from the brash fairy.

"Why don't you just use that trick from before and Super Saiyan heat yourself dry?" I grab the requested towel and offer it out.

"What’s Super Saiy-- you know what? No. Right now I don’t care about your weird Drowish what-you-call-ems." Kryst grabs the, relative to her size, beach towel face cloth and starts drying her sexy little legs. "But to answer you, it’s ‘cause I'm pooped that's why. What little Xan I didn't use up during our sex-capade I'd like to hold onto. As it is I'm gonna need a nap."

"Yeah, I'm feeling pretty drained myself." I exhale in agreement.

"I just bet you are." Kryst humphs and shoots me a devious smirk her eyes quickly flicking down toward my groin. "Nasty gasho." She adds with an accusatory purse of her lips.

"That is totally not what I meant." I laugh. Though my balls do ache.

"What does that mean anyway? Gasho?"

"Ah, right, you don't speak Rokujin do you. A gasho is a person who's notorious for their loose moral fiber when it comes to things of a sexual nature. Promiscuous." She shrugs. "That type."

"You called me a nasty whore?" I laugh.

"Technically, I called you a nasty slut."

"I've heard it both ways."

"Well, unlike a streetwalker, or pleasure house prostitute, money need not be exchanged for a gasho. So, in all fairness, I think was a pretty apt descriptor."

"Thin line, rudeness." I poke the fairy with a finger and give her a grin.

"It's not normally used in pleasant company either, so again totally acceptable around you." Kryst jibes. "Rokujin isn't the best for swearing anyway. Fuck! Now that is a great common tongue profanity. So much versatility, and such…" Kryst pauses for a moment at a loss for words then makes a three, or maybe five punching motions; it's hard to tell with the blazing Bruce Lee like speed.

"Oh, I don't like it when people go around swearing.” Cinnamon, shakes her head, “And I certainly never liked that one." She sticks out her tongue to accentuate. "It is so harsh and... I mean it's fine when you said it, Brian. When we were, you know..." Cinnamon's dips her head and blushes, "but, it's just so… vulgar."

"I know!" Kryst beams with a delighted grin. "That one is best used sparingly, though. Otherwise, I find it lessens the impact."

While I'm shaking my head at Kryst's analysis of the finer points of cursing, Cinnamon done with her soak, rises from the tub with a sigh and pads over, dripping water into the tiled floor. She pulls the towel off her head and lets her damp hair spill over her shoulders.

"So were you both going to go and lie down for a bit?" Seeming eager to change the subject of cursing Cinnamon grabs a new towel from the rack and also begins the rather sensual sight of drying herself. "If you are I know I wouldn't mind jumping into bed for a little snooze too." She stifles a, weirdly cute, yawn…

(Passive) Insight: Extreme Success!

...but, I notice the devious twinkle in her eye. An unspoken yet obvious invitation for us to join her. To steer Kryst and I in a direction where the possibility of a little hanky-panky could, and most likely would, quickly become a reality. Oooo, that wascally wabbit.

Towel in hand, helpless to resist I step close and start to dry Cinnamon's back. Her ears perk and with a smile on her face she turns and does the same to me. Soon enough our hands are both running over each other's bodies. Towel encased fingers squeezing and teasing at tight, toned muscles and plush, pliable parts.

I glance at her cleavage and marvel at the gorgeous sight of the moonshine pendant nestled there. Stark, near luminous, silver and white against her tanned skin. A trickle of water runs downs her breasts and I take the initiative, leaning over to run my tongue over her soft skin, stopping to tease and bite on her nipple.

It garners me a giggle coo from Cinnamon and a tsk and knuckle-wrap smack against the side of the head from Kryst.

"Will you knock it the fuck off?!" Kryst scolds. "You know, I'm fairly certain that neither Drow nor Lepuri go into heat but you two surely make me wonder. Like a couple of damn striplings just discovering sex."

I smirk and Cinnamon blushes.

"Aww, c'mon, Kryst. Don't get jealous." Quick as I whip I scoop up the fairy, jokingly wipe the towel over her face to annoy her more than anything else, then pop each of her breasts into my mouth for a quick, playful suckle.

"Ahem." Sitting in the lounge chair shape of my palm, Kryst shoves her hands onto her hips and shoots me a, clearly unimpressed, eyebrow raised glower. "Take my titty out of your mouth, please."

Well, I finally got my please.

"Whazza matwa, don't wike it?" Talking around a mouth full of fairy breast I tease-suck a second or two longer before ceasing my shenanigans and allow Kryst's boobie to audibly pop out from between my lips like a sweet, round bubblegum lollipop.

Kryst: Sexual Techniques + Tongue Tricks Specialization Bonus: Success!

"I like it just fine. But we are not having another go around." Kryst lets out a full-body sigh and fusses with her towel, drying her arms and seems to deliberately avoid my gaze.

(Passive) Perception: Success!

Something seems a bit off with her. Not attitude-wise. She is still acting the same as always does. My first thought is it's simply my previous horniness altering my perception but that isn't it.

She's definitely less vibrant than she had been before. The magical stripper-glitter glow effect the soap had on her skin seems diminished. She is still strikingly beautiful, but something… She looks, drained. Her normally tight controlled precise movements are slower. Sluggish. Her hair has lost some of the otherworldly inner glow and appears a bit limp. Even her gossamer wings look less... gossamery?

"Kryst? Are you sure you are okay?"

"Males. All the same." She puffs, "I told you. I'm fine. Yes, it feels very good. But sometimes when a woman says she is tired she actually means it. I'm tired. And if I decide to get all sticky again, I want to enjoy it."

"No, not that. I mean you don't look... I don't know. You just don't seem as... bright?"

"Now that you mention it." Cinnamon steps closer and touches the back of a finger to Kryst forehead and the side of her face."

"What are you doing?" Kryst jerks her head, looking annoyed as she swats away at Cinnamon's fingertips.

"I wanted to see if maybe you had a fever."

"I don't need you to mother hen me, Carrots. If I'm hot it's cause I just did a ten-mile sex run. For you I might add. And my legs are a lot shorter than both of yours." She grumpily makes to wrap the hand towel around her body. Tugging at it Kryst wobbles, nearly loses her balance and stumbles a step in the palm of my hand.

"Alright, something is definitely not right with you." I say.

"Not you too. I'm fine." Kryst rolls her eyes. "Maybe if you could keep your hand still."

"Brian?" Cinnamon glances at me her eyes wide with worry. "You don't think that Kryst caught something from those other fairies, do you? Like that one that seemed to be sick?"

"Huh? Sick fairy? What are you talking about?" Kryst glances up.

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that." I clear my throat. "One of the fairys that Raven had in the cage, it looked like it was ill or something. The others weren't treating it very nicely. They'd hit her if she got too close to them, and they wouldn't let her near any of the food."

"That is weird." Kryst crinkles her brow.

I nod. "We wanted to ask you if you knew what was wrong with her but with getting shuffled to the room, and then Karabos and Crod and… everything, we kept getting distracted." I glance over to Cinnamon and I can see the nervousness on her face. I reach over a hand and take hers to give a little reassurance.

"You were probably mistaken." Kryst dismisses our concerns, "Fairy's don't usually get sick. Not saying it can't happen but you probably mistook their antics. They were most likely playing. They do that. A lot. Fae nature and all."

I shake my head. "No. They definitely weren't playing.

"If you say so." She says with an inflection suggesting very clearly that she believes me to be mistaken. "I'm just letting you know. Besides, I don't recall seeing any sick fairy in there and if there was I would have noticed." Kryst shrugs.

"Yeah, that's kind of the thing. You wouldn't have." I glance at Cinnamon. "The thing is, we may have... liberated her from the cage."

"Wait, what?" Kryst looks between us. "You stole a fairy?"

"Liberated."

"Whatever." Kryst waves off the correction. "What did you do? Let her go or something?"

"No, I hid her in a jar and bought her here."

"A... jar." Kryst rubs at her forehead then looks up at me. Her demeanor changing from doubt to agitation and now quickly edging into anger. "Did you put holes in the lid? We do need to breathe you know!"

"What kind of idiot do you think I am? Of course I did." I suck my teeth.

"Well, you must have done something dumb because I don't feel any fairys nearby!" Kryst accuses her wings buzz flicking in outrage. "So, unless she escaped, I'm sorry... 'liberated' herself, she must be dead!"

"Kryst, calm down. She's fine I gave her some food and wat--"

"Then where is she?!"

"She's right over-- Ughh!" I turn, step around my backpack and my foot squishes into something wet, foul and nearly slides out from under me. A ripe sweet pungent stench wafts from between my toes as I recoil and hop backward.

Smeared across the tile are the red pear fruit and a couple of the smaller berries which I had bought into the bath, but hadn't yet snacked on. The berries are withered and dark, seeping a maple syrup colored sticky slime. The pear is nothing but dripping mush. Pieces of the now red-black skin cling to the sole of my foot like a bandage from an infected wound. Rotten and foul.

"Brian? Did you slip on-- goodness what's that's smell?" Cinnamon says. "Not the toilet is it? Hey, what's going on with the privy plants? They weren't like that before."

My brow crinkles in confusion and I glance to the potted plants in the corners on either side of the toilet. The once large floppy leaves are brown and dry, some so withered I swear I see the edges actually crack and curl before my eyes like they are in some sort of time-lapse nature video.

Scraping the fruit goo from my foot onto one of the wet towels on the floor I step closer to the plants. Leaning over I find the jar, now covered by a few crispy, fallen leaves. I dust them aside and peer through the glass.

What looks like a dried tar coats the interior of one side.

Tentatively, I reach over and shift the container when a section of the lump splits, leaking a thick oily ooze, streaked with yellow pus. Two tiny clawed hands follow, gripping the edges to crack the shell and widen the gap. The thing struggles, its movement twitching, and otherworldly wrong; violently shaking itself free from the slimy husk.

Body slick from the viscous discharge of the unholy cocoon it rolls out and crawls on all fours over to the glass then presses its gray face against the clear walls of its prison.

It lifts its head, wet hair hanging over a pale face. Black eyes stare up at me then a joker like grin splits too far up and around its jawline. Its body convulses and more black sludge drips between thorn-like teeth that sprout from sickly gums. It continues to stare at me.

Then, it screams.

If the violence of its birth was traumatic, it is nothing compared to the fury the tiny creature has for the glass cage. Twisted bat-like wings, made from tatters of membrane and black slime beat furiously as it throws itself back and forth. Slamming its entire body backward and forward with all the strength it can muster it collides with the opposite sides of its prison.

The bottle shakes, tips, and one side bangs hard onto the edge of the ceramic planter pot.

For a split second I think it cracks and my heart jumps into my throat. The glass holds however, and I let out a breath of relief.

The horror show thing tumbles to the bottom of the jar then launches like a bullet toward the teetering edge. Bouncing the jar. Forcing it to topple end over end.

I make a lunge to catch the container before it flips completely over the side...

Dexterity Check: Fail!

My fingers brush the edge of the smooth glass and a half-second later the telltale crash and tinkle of shattering glass echoes across the tile.