"Now that we're clear of Glenwood and their guards, well..." Drow called out from behind his map, "The good news is that the next inn is just one town over, a couple hours from here."
Goblin emerged from the thicket, flapping her tunic to create a breeze across her sweat-drenched chest, relieved by the cool air from the forest cover. In approaching Drow from behind, she caught sight of his tight ass, lovingly shaped by his black leather trousers, and resisted the urge to give it a good slap.
Instead, she stood before him, enthusiastically saluted, and blurted out in a mock soldier voice, "No enemies or threats to report on in the forest's vicinity, SIR!" After a few seconds of realizing that he wasn't going to lower his map to see her, she dropped the pose. "Yeah, and what's the bad news, boss?"
"The bad news", Drow continued, undeterred, "is that if we're to continue our strategy of navigating around the main roads to avoid detection and arrest, we'll be spending the rest of the afternoon entering Panowall Town by way of a hike up a steep hill." Drow's explanation was punctuated by the clapping of parchment, as he laboriously started refolding the map along its worn creases. "Pack, Goblin!" he shouted over the clatter.
She paid no mind at the name he'd been giving her. Several nights ago, in a seedy bar, in the contract they'd hastily drafted and signed, they agreed: no names (or real names, anyway), no backstories, no questions asked. Drow, on the run from the law, needed a shifty sidekick to help him get home, and Goblin needed gold and favored making quips over asking questions. Besides, Drow didn't seem to mind her calling him Drow.
The enormous bag flung from her backside, and landed carefully between them. She crouched and shuffled through the different pockets, until she could find the one he'd reserved for books and documents. "You don't have to talk to me like I'm an animal," she joked. Despite her contract, Goblin made sure he could never get in a command or an order without her pushing back or teasing him, as a matter of personal pride.
"It'd be best if you knew not just how much I regarded you a wild animal."
"Ooh? Is that a flirt? You think I'm a wild beast in the sheets?"
Drow sighed and dropped the map onto the dirt beside her. "Honestly, you green wench..."
She looked up at him with a stupid grin, and immediately recognized how much the tall, shady elf looked even taller while she was crouched over. Cloudy, pale eyes beamed down onto her, seemingly illuminated in contrast to his dark maroon face. A slim, towering pillar of shadow, silhouetted by the late afternoon sky shining down behind him, framed the Demon of Bathnir, capable of levelling small villages with a single incantation. Maybe it was the contract, or the knowledge that he hadn't followed through on any of his threats of torment or punishment the last couple days, but Goblin kept smiling back at the spectre of death.
Drow considered what other words to add. Failing that, he hoped that the silence would intimidate her. "Unbelievable," he finally scoffed after a few seconds, and approached the nearest slanted tree.
"In any case, we're resting here before our trek up the hill." Drow kicked aside a twig, before lowering himself onto a soft dirt patch between the roots and perching his back against the tree trunk, which angled far enough away to allow him to recline. "Don't stray too far, if you're not also napping." His cloudy eyes closed shut, and head pressed firmly against the wood.
Goblin stowed the map and hobbled the hefty sack over to lay it beside Drow. She paused to notice how unexpectedly peaceful his face seemed when his eyes were closed, and his mouth less resembling a scowl. Before he could catch her staring, though, she turned away in search for a comfortable tree to lay against.
But a dumb idea came to mind, then. Before considering any risks or potential outcomes, she committed to the act and turned right back around...
...And sat right on Drow's lap, resting the back of her head against his chest.
"I MEANT," Drow growled, "we're resting 'here' in the forest. Find. Your own. Gods damned tree." Goblin felt his legs quickly shift apart from underneath her, landing her square on the dirt. Despite the cold, firm floor of the forest, she still enjoyed some warmth and softness from his legs now pressing against her sides.
Goblin turned her head, and finding a surprisingly accommodating spot on his chest, decided to keep it there. "What? A hard, cold lump of wood to rest against? Sounds lame. Maybe that works for you elf types, but I found a cozy spot to nap here." She considered tapping his thigh for emphasis, but didn't want to press her luck any further.
"I swear, how can you thieves not know about the rumors about practitioners of magic? Didn't I hire someone with street smarts? Long-term exposure to magical aura can..."
An uncomfortable silence followed. Goblin remained still.
"Whatever." She felt him shuffle around behind her. "If the guards find us, at least you'll still be useful as a body shield."
Goblin realized she'd been holding her breath waiting for his response, and drew out her exhale as long as possible to avoid making a sound. She closed her eyes and prolonged her inhale too, and the aroma of the man she'd crushed on excited her - sweaty, but mixed with the earthy tones of a sunbaked leather vest.
Even while Goblin nestled herself in, her silent celebration quickly gave way to doubts. Surely she couldn't pester her way into sleeping with him, or pull a complete U-Turn from constantly teasing him to earnestly asking him on a date. And if the flirting was doing something for him, would these efforts pay off before she could fulfill her end of the contract? She hoped his damn castle was weeks away. And even if she were successful, what would she want out of this? A one-night stand? Some casual dating? Something more?
She held back a chuckle, picturing Drow sporting a apron in a humble kitchen of a small, charming cottage by the countryside, whipping eggs in a bowl and rolling out bread dough for breakfast for her and their demon dog. It sounded... nice, actually.
Her head slumped from the deep breathing, as the warm feelings lulled her to sleep.
By the time Goblin came to her senses, a dreadful gut feeling had settled, causing the hairs on her skin stand on end. She opened her eyes to find herself sitting completely in the dark. She wondered briefly if she'd overslept.
Goblin sat completely still and peered around, trying to perceive any shapes through the seemingly pitch-black environment. She'd been born and raised in a cave system. She'd been used to night heists. This should not be difficult for her at all, and yet she couldn't make heads or tails of her surroundings. After focusing and unfocusing her eyes, she could finally perceive a vast, dark hole directly before her, the edges of which bordered her peripheral vision.
No, not a hole. A massive entity - even more absent of light than its surroundings, as if its own void starved out any remaining light from the environment - stared back at Goblin. Even having perceived its form, Goblin still struggled to make out its true size or distance away, but the knot in her stomach assured her she was far, far smaller than it. And that gut feeling that'd been gnawing at her also told Goblin that, without any eyes - or perhaps thousands of invisible eyes - it'd began to study her. From front and behind. Inside and outside. All that was visible and even what was obscured or hidden.
Several of her secrets and vulnerabilities began to came to mind. It started with her crimes and hidden activities. Each of her petty thefts, every betrayal of a target for whom she'd won their trust. Then more personal feelings emerged: the guilt of stealing from the more vulnerable, less well-off targets, the disdain of kings, guards, and authority figures, and the depths of fear for her life ending in any number of miserable ways. Alone in a prison cell, executed by the royal guard, backstabbed by a former ally, these scenarios appeared and disappeared before her, dissolving away into the darkness.
Then every detail of the physical objects on her - hidden knives, pocketed gold, and vials of potions and poisons - came to mind. She visualized each item, one by one, but each would eventually dissolve away. Even when she'd try to recall them, she'd struggle to visualize it again. Each recollection, each thought, was a public admission to the enemy, as though it were some supernatural customs official, relinquishing her of her valuables. It saw all of her, and took all from her.
Finally, visions of her clothes came to mind. She gasped, and tried to recall anything else - any memories, facts, or fantasies that could distract her. But each possible thought hung out of her reach, like a name or a word permanently on the tip of her tongue. The harder she searched, the more she was convinced that no thoughts remained.
Her tunic, belt, satchel, pants, and undergarments appeared before her in her mind, one by one, and disappeared. She felt her physical body being observed, top to bottom, even beyond the defenses of her clothes. And to her surprise, she sat there motionless, without any reflexive instinct to cover herself. She flexed her arms and legs, but something restrained her in place. The eyes watched her, and like a rookie thief caught in the act, Goblin froze completely. No mental effort could push her past the threshold to bring her body to flee or fight. No clothes could cover her chest, or stop the eyes from peering down the length of her back and fully view her shapely rear, or examine the reddened labia completely unshielded by her widespread legs, which were locked in place. Even just looking down to see whether she still had clothes on would have been a comfort, but her eyes stayed transfixed to the entity before her.
