Veils, a story of the Giraffe Call for @Rix_Scaedu

To Rix’s prompt:

“Why are we doing this?” Drakur tugged at the thin veils and whispy pants. “You’d look better in this than I would.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Dortha was a stout woman, an earth-witch and a tree-wife, the strongest Drakur had ever met. She was handsome, but not lovely, not in the way that people at the auction would drool over.

Drakur. Drakur was. He looked down at himself. “Okay. I look okay, I guess.” He wasn’t big and bulky like some swords-slingers (or like some farmboys) were. He was just… skinny and rock-hard. And apparently looked really believable as a harem slave.

“You look delicious. I’d buy you myself.”

“Now just remember, the point is to not let me get bought by anyone. We just want to get in there, not to have me go off with some frighting old crone.”

“I can remember a plan. Especially one I thought up.”

“Just see that we stick to it.”


“Thirty-five gold, do I hear forty? Forty gold, do I hear forty-five? Forty five, do I hear fifty? Forty five, going once, going twice SOLD to the woods-witch. Come get him, lady, he’s a sharp one, isn’t he? Look at that chest, look how it shines, you’re going to have fun with him, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes I am.” Dortha grabbed the leash wrapped around Drakur’s neck. “Come on, boy.

“What happened to the plan?” He hissed it out of the side of his mouth as he stumbled along. Dortha was a double handspan shorter than he was, and she was pulling down on the leash.

“The plan succeeded. We got what we needed.”

“Then let me go!”

“Oh, no, I spent forty-five gold on you. I’m going to have fuuun.


“You do look really good in the veils.”

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