breakingcounsel
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2017
- Location
- USA
“Demon... die?” Arianrhod repeated, looking up at the tall man beside her. “I... hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. It’s an anagram of the words.” The elevator dinging as it reached her floor startled the blonde, making her place a hand on her ample bosom in mild surprise. “O-Oh. That, uh... w-was faster than I was expecting.”
Leading the way to her room, she took off her jacket, tying it by the sleeves around her waist. Being so close to getting into a fight had worked her up, and she was now feeling a bit overheated. Taking her jacket off like she had revealed her holstered guns and the fact that her black tee was probably a bit more fitted than she’d normally like, the breathable cotton snug on her slightly chubby curves.
Arianrhod stopped in front of her room door, fumbling with the keycard. Her first couple of tries ended with the reader buzzing and turning red, but she finally got it open. She pushed her way into the spartan room, where her claymore and dagger belt lay on the bed. “Oh, good... They’re still here,” she breathed, clearly relieved that nobody had made off with her weapons. The woman removed the jacket from her waist, then picked up the claymore scabbard, securing the intricate belt around her torso and right shoulder, joining it with the holster belt. She then picked up the best with her dagger and settled it at an angle across her hips. The jacket she placed on the bed, then crossed to grab the heavy time she’d been reading before the failed attempt at going to the bar and placed it on the jacket. A whispered word in Welsh shrank the objects down, and she placed both in a pouch on her dagger belt.
Leading the way to her room, she took off her jacket, tying it by the sleeves around her waist. Being so close to getting into a fight had worked her up, and she was now feeling a bit overheated. Taking her jacket off like she had revealed her holstered guns and the fact that her black tee was probably a bit more fitted than she’d normally like, the breathable cotton snug on her slightly chubby curves.
Arianrhod stopped in front of her room door, fumbling with the keycard. Her first couple of tries ended with the reader buzzing and turning red, but she finally got it open. She pushed her way into the spartan room, where her claymore and dagger belt lay on the bed. “Oh, good... They’re still here,” she breathed, clearly relieved that nobody had made off with her weapons. The woman removed the jacket from her waist, then picked up the claymore scabbard, securing the intricate belt around her torso and right shoulder, joining it with the holster belt. She then picked up the best with her dagger and settled it at an angle across her hips. The jacket she placed on the bed, then crossed to grab the heavy time she’d been reading before the failed attempt at going to the bar and placed it on the jacket. A whispered word in Welsh shrank the objects down, and she placed both in a pouch on her dagger belt.