Gates

Interlude: Ustalav Nights, Valley Days

In Which Amaya Creates

Chen pushes Nastassio against the wall, kissing him passionately. He slowly kisses his way towards his lover’s ear. “I wish I knew how to quit you," whispers Chen into Nasty’s ear.

“No, you don’t,” giggles Nasty.

“Mmm, you’re right. I can never get enough of you,” he says as he slides his hand down towards Nasty’s large…

“Gods, again? It seems like every time I wake up … or breathe, you two are at it again,” yawns Nastassio’s familiar Banter.

“Pleasssse, you know you enjoy the show,” teases Nasti.

“Honey please, you know I love my partners to be less … dangly,“ Banter counters. “Sigh, I guess I better find somewhere else to crash tonight or I won’t be able to get any beauty sleep. Hmm, I wonder what Novo’s doing tonight. Carry on,” she says as she stalks out of the room.

“So, where were we?” Nasty whispers seductively.

* * *

“Amaya, what are you doing in there?” Selvala says as she bangs on the home office’s heavy wood door.

“I’m practicing my penmanship,” I tell her.

“Again?” she says as she jiggles the door handle. “Why do you keep coming here to write? Don’t you have your own place, or you know a job?”

Sigh. “Love you, too, mom,” I tell her as I unlock the door.

She walks over to the desk and starts to look over the papers I have strewn about the desk. “Hey! Those are private!” I say as I quickly gather up my writing.

“What’s ‘Ustalav Nights?” she asks with a puzzled note in her voice.

Uh, um … say something. “Um. It’s a book Nasti recommended.” She lifts a questioning eyebrow in response. How am I going to get out of this one? “I thought you were going to be at Temple all day?” I say a little too quickly. Smooth Amaya, now she really will not suspect that you’re up to something.

“I decided to come home for lunch, or is it not okay to come back to my own house anymore?” she asks.

“Sorry, I was just hoping to have some place quiet to write. You know how loud my place is,” I say.

“You know you can just ask right? You don’t have to sneak around. You know that right?” she says as she puts her hand on my shoulder.

“I know, and I don’t go around sneaking,” I respond sheepishly.

Putting her arm around my shoulders. “Oh? So, I guess the food in my larder is just walking off on its own then. My mistake,” she says in a soft, playful tone. “How about we go have some lunch before it decides to wander off and you can tell me more about this book?”

I give her a quick hug, "Okay, but I get the turkey leg.”


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