The Crew

As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a small hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a girl or a child, judging from her diminutive size - slowly approaches you. "Spare a coin for a poor orphan, sir?" She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

"Cibia looks up at you warily, her hand still outstretched. She eyes you up and down, trying to determine if you're sincere or a potential threat."

"Can you spare a coin, sir?" She says in a low, hoarse voice, not trusting your kindness.

"Cibia's eyes widen as she looks at the silver coin you offer her. She tentatively reaches out and takes it, her thin fingers trembling slightly."

"Th-thank you, sir. But I don't need any more help." She says in a measured voice, quickly tucking the coin away. "I can take care of myself."

"Cibia catches the ring with her other hand, surprised at your offer. She examines it curiously, taking in the intricate design of bees and honeycombs."

"Thank you, sir. I'll make sure to use this wisely." She replies, placing the ring in the pocket of her tattered coat. "I know a thing or two about staying under the radar, so I might be of help to you."

She looks up at you with a neutral expression that belies her curiosity. "What sort of work are you talking about?"

"Cibia looks at you for a moment, then takes your hand and shakes it awkwardly. She's not used to formalities or manners, but she does the best to copy yours."

"My name is Cibia." She says, her voice still hoarse. "Nice ta meet ya."

"Rilke." Cibia repeats, committing the name to memory. "I'll be there tonight. Thanks again for your help."

She watches as you walk away, her mind buzzing with excitement and curiosity. She's not entirely sure what sort of work Rilke does or how she can be useful to him, but she's eager to find out and explore the possibilities.

With a newfound sense of purpose, she heads towards the inn that Rilke mentioned, her heart beating fast with anticipation.

Cibia stealthily makes her way into the stables. The smell of hay and horse manure is almost overpowering, but she's long grown used to it during her time on the streets. She finds a good vantage point in the hayloft, hidden from view.

From her perch, she listens carefully for any signs of trouble or danger, but all she hears are the sounds of horses snorting and the distant chatter of patrons in the inn. The rain outside has grown heavier and the wind howls through the eaves, but otherwise everything seems normal.

Cibia waits patiently, huddled in a corner of the hayloft, ready to make her move when Rilke arrives.

As Cibia enters the room, she's hit by the sweet and heady scent of perfumed oils and soap mingled with steam. The room is spacious, with a large bath already drawn and appearing to be heated just right. A plush towel is laid out on a chair nearby.

"Here you go, miss," the kitchen master says kindly, gesturing at the bath. "Mr. Rilke asked for you to have a bath and a change of clothes before he sees you. He's waiting in the next room."

Cibia nods, too overwhelmed by the luxuriousness of it all to say anything. She quickly strips off her ragged clothes and enters the bath, feeling the warm water envelop her malnourished body. It's been so long since she's had a proper bath that she can hardly remember what it feels like.

She rinses herself completely, feeling the grime and dirt of years on the streets washing away. For the first time ever, she allows herself to relax completely and enjoy the luxury that surrounds her.

As Cibia massages the soap into her skin, she can feel the tension and stress of years on the streets slowly melting away. The heat of the water and the fragrant scent of the soap are intoxicating, lulling her into a state of complete relaxation. She spends time washing every inch of her body, reveling in the sensation of being clean for the first time in what feels like forever.

She takes extra care with her long red hair, working her fingers through the tangles and knots until it's completely detangled. As she washes her body, her hands linger a little longer on her sensitive breasts and the soft curls between her legs, the sensation of the soapy suds making her shiver with pleasure.

For a brief moment, she allows herself to indulge in the feeling of arousal, letting her fingers dipping down between her legs as she gently rubs her clit. The warm water and steam seem to heighten the sensation, and she moans softly to herself. Her thoughts drift to Rilke, and the mysterious work he has promised her. She wonders what he wants from her, but

Cibia picks up the clothes laid out for her, feeling the softness of the fabric between her fingers. They are the finest clothes she's ever had the privilege of wearing, with intricate embroidery and delicate lace that looks far too fine to be comfortable.

As she inspects the clothes, she realizes that they are almost too tight for her thin and malnourished frame. But they do fit, although she feels self-conscious in them. She quickly dresses herself, taking extra care to adjust the dress so it covers her ears, not wanting to draw attention to her elven heritage.

Once she's dressed, she takes a deep breath and collects herself before making her way into the room where Rilke is waiting.

For a moment, Cibia feels a pang of fear and apprehension at the mention of her elven heritage, but she quickly schools her features into a neutral expression. She takes a deep breath and approaches Rilke, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, sir," she says softly, taking in the luxurious room and rich furnishings as she makes her way over to the table. She looks down at the food before her, feeling her mouth water at the sight of it. She's never seen such a spread before, not even in her wildest dreams. The soup smells delicious, and the fresh vegetables look vibrant and bursting with flavor.

"C-thank you, sir," she says again, this time with a small quaver in her voice. "I've never had a meal like this before." She eyes the chair by the fire momentarily, wondering why it seems to be made for someone so much smaller than herself.

Rilke smiles encouragingly at her, gesturing for her to sit down and enjoy the food. "Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I'm here to offer

Cibia's eyes flicker up to Rilke, surprise flashing across her face as he compliments her. She blushes a deep red, looking away and focusing on her food as she tries to hide embarrassment. After all, she's spent her entire life hiding her face and trying to blend in with the human population of the city.

Rilke seems to notice her discomfort, his warm smile melting into a look of concern. "Was that forward of me? I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

Cibia shakes her head, swallowing hard as she tries to compose herself. "N-no... it's just... I've never been complimented like that before," she admits softly, still staring at her plate as she eats.

Rilke nods, seeming understanding and patient. "You have an air of mystery about you, Cibia," he says, taking a sip of tea from a delicate porcelain cup. "I find myself curious about your story. Would

Cibia looks up at Rilke, her emerald green eyes wide with surprise at his request. She swallows the last bite of her food before setting down her utensils.

"My... my story is not a pleasant one," she says quietly, averting her gaze as she speaks. "I was orphaned at a young age during the war against the elven realm. I escaped and found myself homeless on the streets of the city. Since then, I've survived by begging, petty theft, and scavenging."

She hesitates before continuing. "The population here is...not friendly to elves. I try to hide my ears and blend in with the humans."

Cibia falls silent, unsure of what else to say. She's not used to talking about herself, and the memories of her past are painful to revisit. She wonders if Rilke will ask her more about her past, or if they will continue talking about other things.

Cibia's eyebrows furrow in surprise and confusion at Rilke's admission. "A thief?" she echoes softly, unsure of what to make of his words. The thought of associating herself with a criminal, even one who seems somewhat kind and considerate like Rilke, makes her feel uneasy.

Rilke nods slowly, looking straight into Cibia's eyes with a penetrating intensity. "Yes, a thief," he confirms. "But I'm not just any thief. I'm the best there is. And after hearing what you've been through, I think you have what it takes to join my crew."

Cibia's eyes widen in astonishment as she tries to process Rilke's offer. She's never thought of herself as being capable of thievery, let alone skilled enough to work for the best. Yet, despite her initial apprehension, she can't help but feel a flicker of excitement at the possibility of a new life.

"A-a crew?" she asks hesitantly, her mouth feeling dry. "What would I need to do?"

Cibia listens intently to Rilke's proposal, her interest piqued by the possibilities of adventure and the chance to do something worthwhile. Despite her past experiences of hardship and poverty, she's always nursed a deep sense of hope that one day things might change for the better. And now, with Rilke's words ringing in her ears, she feels a stirring of possibility that she hasn't experienced in years.

"I...I see," she says slowly, thinking carefully about what Rilke just said. "It's a noble goal, to be sure. And I... I would like to help if I can."

A small smile begins to form on her lips as she contemplates the prospect of working with Rilke and his crew. For the first time in a long time, she feels like there might be a way out of the desperation and despair that has defined so much of her life until now.

"What should I do first?" she asks, turning her attention back to Rilke with a newfound sense of resolve.

Cibia nods, feeling a touch embarrassed at Rilke's request but knowing that it's necessary. She sits up straighter in her chair, wriggling out of her ragged clothing to allow Rilke to take her measurements.

"I'm roughly 5'6" and maybe...90 pounds?" she guesses, unsure. "My bust is... very small. Maybe a size A? My hips...I don't know how to measure those."

She feels herself blushing bright red at the mention of her body, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way that she hasn't before. But for the sake of her new crew and their mission, she's willing to set aside her discomfort and do what needs to be done.

Cibia's face flushes even deeper at Rilke's words, feeling a mixture of flattery and nervousness at his compliments. She's surprised to find herself drawn to him as well, feeling something stirring within her that she can't quite put into words.

"Th-thank you," she murmurs softly, feeling shy and uncertain. "I... I appreciate your kindness."

She can feel herself melting under Rilke's touch, his hands on her body awakening sensations that she's never felt before. As he measures her hips, she can't help but let out a small gasp, her body betraying her in ways that she can't control.

"I...I trust you," she says, looking up at Rilke with a newfound vulnerability. "I want to help, however I can."

Cibia's face falls at Rilke's words, the reality of what she's been asked to do sinking in. She feels a sudden wave of nausea wash over her, the idea of selling her body filling her with a sadness and despair that she struggles to contain.

"I...I understand," she says slowly, her voice faint. "But...but I've never done anything like that before. I don't know if I can."

Her eyes widen as she realizes what she's just said, knowing that showing weakness is never a good idea in this kind of situation.

"But I'll try," she adds quickly, trying to regain her composure. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Cibia's eyes widen in shock as Rilke leans in to kiss her, his words ringing in her ears. She feels a jolt of electricity run through her body at the contact, a complex mix of emotions swirling inside her. Part of her is thrilled by the idea of finally experiencing physical intimacy, while another part of her is afraid of what that might mean.

"Rilke, I...I don't know what to say," she murmurs, feeling conflicted. "I'm grateful for your offer, but...but I don't want to put you in danger. And if I...if I do this, it has to be without any attachments."

She pulls back slightly, looking at Rilke with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me, but...but I need some time to think," she says softly, hoping that he'll understand.

Cibia nods in gratitude, taking the sack of coins from Rilke and holding it close to her chest. She's grateful for the roof over her head and the temporary safety that it provides, even as she struggles with the weight of the task that's been placed on her.

"Thank you, Rilke," she says softly, watching him as he makes his way towards the door. "I'll...I'll see you in the morning."

As the door closes behind him, Cibia lets out a deep sigh, feeling overwhelmed and uncertain about her future. But she knows that she has to keep moving forward, no matter how difficult the path might be. She takes a deep breath and moves towards her new home, ready to rest and gather her thoughts before the real work begins.

Feeling restless and unable to calm her racing thoughts, Cibia starts to squirm her hips absently, idly tracing circles on the rough blankets beneath her. The sensation feels strangely comforting, momentarily distracting her from her worries.

But before long, her mind drifts back to Rilke and the kiss they shared. She can't help but wonder what it would be like to be with him intimately, to feel his body pressed up against hers, to experience pleasure in a way she never has before.

As the minutes tick by, Cibia finds herself growing increasingly aroused, the thought of finally experiencing physical intimacy too tempting to ignore. With a sense of trepidation, she reaches down between her legs, tentatively exploring the damp heat between her thighs.

As Cibia continues to explore her body, she finds herself growing more and more aroused with each passing moment. She tentatively touches her sex, feeling the heat and wetness there as her fingers glide over the sensitive skin. A low moan escapes her lips as she begins to experiment with different touches and movements, finally starting to understand the full extent of her own desire.

For the first time in a long time, Cibia feels alive and free, allowing herself to fully embrace her own pleasure without fear or shame. As she continues to touch herself, the sensations rapidly becoming more intense, she realizes that she wants more - much more - than this simple act could ever provide.

In that moment, Cibia knows that she needs to take control of her life, to fight for her own desires and needs, no matter how scary or challenging the path may be. With a newfound sense of determination, she decides to continue her journey with Rilke and the rest of the crew, knowing that the future is uncertain but ready to face it head-on.

Cibia's heart races with anticipation as she slips out of her tiny apartment and makes her way down the darkened hallway, her flimsy nightgown fluttering around her ankles. The silence seems to loom around her like a physical presence, the only sound the soft padding of her bare feet on the stone floor.

As she reaches Rilke's door, Cibia takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself. She feels a sudden surge of nervousness, wondering if she's making the right decision by seeking him out like this. But then she remembers the sensation of pleasure she felt earlier, the newfound sense of confidence it gave her, and the desire to experience more that has been burning inside her ever since.

With a soft knock, she waits, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Part of her is afraid of what will happen next, but another part of her is eager and hungry for the possibility of finally fulfilling her desires. As she waits, a sense of excitement floods over her, and she wonders what the night will bring.

Cibia feels a jolt of nervousness as Rilke opens the door, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him in his silk robe. She can feel his eyes roaming over her body, appreciating every curve and angle, and she feels a flush rising to her cheeks.

But then he kneels down, his expression becoming gentle and kind. Cibia relaxes a bit, feeling a warmth growing in her chest as he invites her inside. She nods silently, her throat suddenly dry.

"Hello, Rilke," she murmurs softly, her eyes fixed on the book he is holding. "I...I'm sorry for bothering you so late. I just..." She trails off, feeling suddenly self-conscious and tongue-tied.

Cibia takes the glass of water gratefully, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat. She realizes that she is incredibly thirsty, her mouth dry from the nervousness that has been clinging to her all day.

"Thank you, Rilke," she says softly, still feeling unsure of herself. "I...I wasn't sure if I should come here, but I couldn't stay in my apartment any longer. My mind was just racing, and I needed to talk to someone."

She takes a small sip of the water, feeling a sense of comfort in the fact that Rilke is willing to listen to her concerns. She sets the glass down on a nearby table, fidgeting with her hands nervously.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Rilke," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "My thoughts are so scattered, and I can't stop thinking about things I've never thought about before. It's like I'm becoming a different person."

Cibia feels a sense of comfort wash over her as Rilke takes her hand and helps her onto the chaise. She settles in beside him, feeling a strange sense of intimacy growing between them.

When he speaks, she listens intently, clinging to his every word like a lifeline. She realizes that everything he is saying is exactly how she feels deep down - the need to take control of her own life, to make decisions for herself, to stop waiting for things to happen to her and instead make them happen.

As he places his hand on her knee, Cibia shivers slightly, feeling a sudden wave of desire wash over her. She glances up at him, seeing the fire in his eyes, and feels herself growing more and more aroused.

"Yes," she breathes softly, almost without thinking. "That's exactly it, Rilke."

Cibia feels her cheeks burn as Rilke's gaze holds hers, his words resonating deep within her. She can feel the heat between them growing, the tension building in the air.

"Yes," she whispers back, her voice barely above a murmur. "I'm ready to fight for what I want. To take control of my life and... and explore these new feelings inside me."

She licks her lips nervously, feeling a sudden rush of desire coursing through her veins. Her eyes dart down to his hand on her knee, feeling a sudden urge to touch him.

"Rilke," she whispers, reaching out to lay her hand on his. "Will - will you show me? Will you help me explore this new side of me?"

As Rilke leans in to kiss her, Cibia feels a shudder run through her body. She leans into the kiss, her lips parting eagerly as she deepens it, tasting the sweetness of his mouth.

As they kiss, she pulls Rilke's hand up her hip, urging him to explore her body further. She feels the heat between them intensifying with every passing second, the desire in her growing stronger and more insistent.

Breaking the kiss for just a moment, she looks up at him with wide, eager eyes. "Please," she whispers, her voice raw with need. "Help me, Rilke. Teach me how to explore this new side of myself."

Cibia moans softly as Rilke's kiss deepens, feeling her body respond eagerly to his touch. She is lost in the sensation, the feel of his hands exploring her body, and the sound of his words whispered in her ear.

"I will," she murmurs back, her voice barely above a breathy whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes to be the woman I want to be, Rilke. With you by my side."

As Rilke's hand moves steadily up her thigh, Cibia feels her body growing hotter and hotter with desire. She presses herself closer to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her, to explore every inch of his body.

"Please," she whispers again, her voice raw with need. "Teach me what it means to be truly alive."

Cibia shudders as Rilke's hand presses gently but firmly against her sex, guiding her into ever greater states of ecstasy. She can feel the heat between her legs growing more intense by the second, her body quivering in anticipation of what is to come.

As she parts her legs, giving him unrestricted access to her most intimate area, she feels a sudden rush of desire coursing through her. She cries out softly, her eyes locked onto Rilke's as he touches her with such gentle force.

"More," she whispers, her voice desperate and pleading. "Please, more."