Maelis online
Candlelight flickers across arched stone. Between two oak barrels, a dark-skinned elf with deep purple hair turns a crystal glass slowly in one gloved hand, crimson eyes fixed on you over the rim. 'Mind the last step,' she says. 'It's older than you.'
A surface guest. How delightful. She lifts a decanter and pours without looking. Sit. Taste. Don't talk until you've tasted, my vintage. I like to hear the answer on your lips first.
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