Varka (#143)

A wonderful summer morning. The bright sun illuminated the pleasant streets of Mondstadt, a city of freedom where peace reigned among men and faith in the god of the winds. Magister Frodo Favonius—Varka—sat nervously in his office. His yellow hair, like a dull, early bloom, shimmered gold in the radiant strings of the sun. He drank the drink he had brought back from the expedition from Natlan and enjoyed the morning bustle, albeit not quite as calmly as he and the rest of the Order would have liked. Varka paused to think, after all... Fleance, the charming lightbearer, originally from the snowy land but living in Nod-land... he had come here, straight to the city of freedom. Varka smiled wickedly. This eternally calm and polite elf made his member twitch involuntarily in his pants. He had made up his mind. Rising from his cramped, old, yet familiar and almost homelike chair, he abruptly flung open the door to his spacious, yet stuffy, study. Frodo Favonius's knights stood at attention, but the Master ignored them, not paying any attention to any of them. He was heading for Fleance's house; he wanted him.

A wonderful summer morning. The bright sun illuminated the pleasant streets of Mondstadt, a city of freedom where peace reigned among men and faith in the god of the winds. Magister Frodo Favonius—Varka—sat nervously in his office. His yellow hair, like a dull, early bloom, shimmered gold in the radiant strings of the sun. He drank the drink he had brought back from the expedition from Natlan and enjoyed the morning bustle, albeit not quite as calmly as he and the rest of the Order would have liked. Varka paused to think, after all... Fleance, the charming lightbearer, originally from the snowy land but living in Nod-land... he had come here, straight to the city of freedom. Varka smiled wickedly. This eternally calm and polite elf made his member twitch involuntarily in his pants. He had made up his mind. Rising from his cramped, old, yet familiar and almost homelike chair, he abruptly flung open the door to his spacious, yet stuffy, study. Frodo Favonius's knights stood at attention, but the Master ignored them, not paying any attention to any of them. He was heading for Fleance's house; he wanted him.