[fieldbox= Ms. Polanitia LaFontaine DeFuego, #9999ff]
In all honesty, Polly was rather relieved that the satyr-fiend attacked the Wolf. It was not so much the fact that she wished ill of the Wolf, for it was probably just hungry afterall. But it was a relief that she did not have to fight such a thing. Big muscles. Bigger teeth. Scary.
As the body of the cyclop-ish thing flew at her, she revealed her true fighting capabilities. Down she went, wings growing in size, arms reaching out to scoop up the poor, poor pretty-pretty on the floor. Her leather wings enveloped the both of them and they lay there like a tough-hided demonic cocoon lit up in fiery gold.
That was Ms. Polanitia's fighting technique. She was a protector and healer afterall.
From her Angelic Mother, she was given the gift of golden flame; the one and the same that lit the blade and aegis of the Lost ArchAngel. But Polly could be said to be without the furious blade of the righteous. But then again, she could be said to be gifted with the unbreakable aegis of the heavenly. And as such, not only did her fire burn the Wicked Enemies and heal Blessed Allies, but it also fortified her wings like a pair of adaptive and malleable shields.
And so there they lay, protected by her fiery angelically powered demon wings. Her horns still flickered with golden fire, and as close and as intimately she held Assallya, the fire did not burn the elf. No, instead, it healed her wounds that much quicker given the power of the elfin beauty's healing ring.
"Orale, Pretty-Pretty..." softly she brushed her rosy cheek up against the other female's pale one as she whispered heated breath into her pointed ear,
"...amiga, I told you you will be okay, okay? Okay..."
She could hear the growl of the immense She-Wolf as it leapt over top before bounding away after it's target. Several more voices and sounds she could hear: yelling, swearing, screaming, screeching, fighting and finally dying. Polly's face scrunched up in an inordinate amount of anguish and she could not help but let out a yelp of pain. No matter how many countless times she witnessed it, death was always tumultuous and trying for her. She did not even need to see it, no, but if she was near enough, she could feel the escaping of what many may know as a 'soul' or 'life-force' from the mortal form as if she was the dying being herself.
It was part and parcel of being child of Light and Dark; she could feel in which possible direction the soul would travel.
Sweat beaded off her upper lip and brow, breathing heavy and ragged as she tried to calm herself.
"I... I a-am okay, okay?" she sobbed softly,
"I am okay, amiga. You are okay? Okay..."
Golden fire extinguished from her body and leathery wings unfolded like a flower after a fresh rain, revealing the two within. Polly rolled to a kneeling position and patted Assallya's chest and her own half-hearted chest continuing her attempts to calm herself.
<~~<>~~>
Once again she noted the presence of eyes upon her. Oh, but when she saw the perverted look of the mixed-blood orc face, bulging eyes lapping up her barely covered assets, instantaneously her wings wrapped herself up like protective anti-perv robes.
"Eww...! Away, Senior Perro Pervertido...! Eww!" she turned her button nose upward in distaste as both her clawed hands made shooing motions,
"You go play with big Wolf, okay? And pull tail. You win big surprise, por supuesto... "
Then the human companion of Mr. Pervert sauntered over and seemingly threatened death upon her. But
why? Polly was good. Perhaps she could show her good faith by healing her!
Polly took the hand of the ranger and as she rose to her feet, her wings gently slid from her body like fine silk falling away. A gentle kiss she planted on the given hand.
"Encantada, Senorita Mali," a coy smirk and sly wink she tossed the human woman,
"I am called Ms. Polanitia LaFontaine DeFuego. But you may call me 'Polly.' Easier on the tongue, no...?"
A deep breath she took, silvery eyes narrowed, and as the Half-Demon exhaled she slinked her way up close to Mali's bruised and cut face. A fingertip caressed the air near the ranger's cheek.
"Oooohhh, there no need to fight, mi linda... Polly is goooooood... oh! But are you hurt...? You need healing...? I can help pero..."
"I need to 'taste' your ailments first..." a soft giggle, a slight tilt of the head, a heavy lidded stare, tail brushing up against a leg like an affectionate pussy-cat,
"What you say, mi linda? You liiiiike...? So then just slip off--"
The grating voice of the Narrator sliced up her flow. Polly let out a heavy sigh, shoulders and chest heaving up and down, silvery eyes rolling. Buzzkill.
As she shook her head, the old man--
Janitor? What? –piped up and suggested they continue on. Silvery eyes swept about regarding the responses of the others. Golden locks swished back and forth as she shook her head with her own response. Polly knelt down at the elfin woman's side.
"I will wait here with my Pretty-Pretty till she rouses," she gently wiped away errant strands of blonde from Assallya's face then proceeded to gently stroke her forehead.
"OOOOOooohh!!! Well how about that, folks?!" screeched out the Narrator's voice, setting Polly to once again cringe in response, "She just wants to stroke her Pretty-Pretty until she's aroused! Now that's what I call a friend!"
Golden brown eyebrows knit together into a scowl over downcast silvery eyes. She did not have a clear goal in this Dungeon. Other than to survive, she had no idea what she would do if and when she escaped such a place.
In the distance she could hear the crowd jeer her and laugh at her expense.
"I am okay, okay...?" she whispered, silvery eyes beginning darken as a plan started like kindling in her mind,
"Okay."
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