Everyone walked out of clothing store with several shopping bags.

Isolde chose a dark midnight-blue gown with long slits and silver embroidery — elegant, seductive, and powerful. Ariana picked a pastel lavender dress with soft sleeves, delicate lace, and a magical brooch — modest but gorgeous. Oliver, after getting dragged by both women, ended up in a black noble suit with a crimson-lined coat. Simple, sharp, handsome.

Isolde's verdict: "You finally look like someone with a future."

Ariana: "Very presentable…"

Seraphine: "Master's visual output: optimal."

Oliver: "Stop saying weird things."

*****

The shopping didn't end with clothes.

After the boutique, bags swinging from every arm, they spilled back into the bustling fashion district. Potions, enchanted accessories, new boots for Oliver ("Yours look like they survived a dragon's stomach," Isolde had said), a replacement staff crystal for Ariana, and a ridiculous amount of scented bath oils because "we finally have access to actual hot water" (Ariana's argument, delivered with surprising passion).

By late afternoon their coin pouches were noticeably lighter, but everyone was in high spirits.

Then, without warning, Isolde hooked her arm through Ariana's and flashed that trademark devil-may-care smile.

"Ari, come with me for a second. Girl stuff."

Ariana blinked. "Girl stuff?"

"You'll see."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

Isolde's grin widened. "Always."

Before he could press, the two women were already weaving through the crowd, silver and auburn hair vanishing into the flow of people.

Oliver stared after them, sighed, and turned to the silver-haired construct still holding six bags like they weighed nothing.

"Guess it's just you and me, Sera."

Seraphine tilted her head. "Affirmative. Directive?"

"Walk. Look around. Ask me anything you want. I'm used to it by now."

They started down the main street. The capital never seemed to quiet down—vendors shouting, street performers juggling fire, children chasing glowing butterflies released from a mage's stall.

Seraphine's questions came like clockwork.

"Why do humans decorate their bodies with metal piercings?"

"Is public kissing considered a greeting, a mating display, or both?"

Oliver answered every one with the weary patience of a tired dad.

"Decoration, flirting, and sometimes both. Depends on the piercing."

"Definitely mating display. Greeting kisses are on the cheek and way less tongue."

Seraphine nodded solemnly, committing everything to memory.

Meanwhile, several streets over…

Isolde led Ariana down a narrow side alley, away from the bright awnings and polished storefronts. The air grew cooler, the noise muffled.

Ariana glanced around nervously. "Where are we going?"

"You'll love it," Isolde sing-songed.

They turned a corner—and stopped.

The shop in front of them looked like sin had hired an interior designer.

Crimson velvet curtains framed the windows. Discreet gold lettering above the door read Velvet Whisper – Exclusives for the Discerning. Mannequins in the window wore lingerie that left absolutely nothing to imagination, and beside them, displayed on black silk pillows, were objects Ariana had never seen outside of very embarrassing late-night scrolls.

A glass dildo shaped like a unicorn horn. A string of glowing beads the size of eggs. Something that looked suspiciously like a mechanical tongue.

Ariana's face went nuclear.

"W-What kind of shop is THIS?!"

Isolde's eyes sparkled with pure glee.

"The fun kind."

She grabbed Ariana's wrist and dragged her inside before the healer could bolt.

The door chimed softly as they entered. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and enchanted leather. Shelves were lined with bottles of warming oils, restraints made of silk and runic silver, toys in every shape, size, and color imaginable. A discreet elven clerk behind the counter gave them a knowing smile and went back to polishing a rather intimidating tentacle-shaped… thing.

Ariana stood frozen just inside the threshold, clutching her bags like a shield.

"Isolde… this is a—a sex shop!"

"Technically it's a 'marital aids and pleasure boutique,'" Isolde corrected cheerfully, already browsing a display of vibrating wands. "Very upscale. They have a branch in Valtaine too—been meaning to visit for ages."

Ariana's voice climbed an octave. "How do you even know about this?!"

Isolde picked up a sleek silver plug with a jewel on the end and turned it thoughtfully. "Word travels in the right circles. Noblewives apparently swear by these."

She held it up. "Want to try?"

Ariana made a sound like a teakettle about to explode.

Isolde laughed and put it back. "Relax. We're just looking. For now."

She moved deeper into the shop, fingers trailing over bottles labeled things like "Liquid Fire – Warming" and "Siren's Kiss – Heightened Sensitivity."

Ariana followed at a safe distance, face still flaming, but her eyes kept darting to the displays with reluctant curiosity.

Isolde stopped in front of a shelf of strap-ons in increasingly creative designs.

"Think I would look good in one of these?" she asked conversationally.

Ariana choked on air.

Isolde grinned wider.

"Or maybe," she continued, picking up a pair of cuffs lined with soft fur, "we get something for you to wear next time."

Ariana buried her face in her hands.

"I'm going to die. Right here. Spontaneous combustion."

Isolde looped an arm around her shoulders, steering her toward a display of edible body paints.

"Come on, little healer. Live a little. The palace dinner is tomorrow night. Plenty of time to test new toys after we've been proper and polite."

Ariana peeked through her fingers, voice small.

"…Do they have anything that glows?"

Isolde's smile turned downright predatory.

"Now you're speaking my language."

*****

Inside Velvet Whisper, the atmosphere was warm, dimly lit, and entirely shameless.

Isolde moved like she owned the place, picking up items with the casual confidence of someone who'd done this before.

Ariana trailed behind, clutching a small wicker basket the clerk had handed her "for convenience," cheeks still burning.

Isolde held up a slim, curved wand made of polished rose-quartz. A tiny rune glowed faintly at the base.

"This one vibrates in seven different patterns," she said conversationally. "Supposedly mimics a tongue. Want to test it?"

Ariana squeaked. "Here?!"

"There's a private booth in the back. Perfectly normal."

Before Ariana could protest, Isolde was already steering her toward a velvet-curtained alcove labeled Demonstration Room – One Customer at a Time.

Five minutes later, Ariana emerged looking like she'd been hit by lightning—hair slightly mussed, eyes wide, lips parted.

Isolde followed, smug as a cat with cream.

"Well?" Isolde asked.

Ariana's voice came out a squeak. "Pattern four is… illegal."

"Into the basket it goes."

Next was a pair of soft leather cuffs with tiny shock runes.

"Low voltage," Isolde explained, buckling one around Ariana's wrist and giving the chain a gentle tug. "Just a tingle."

A faint bzzzzt. Ariana jolted, thighs pressing together involuntarily.

"Gods above—"

"Basket."

Then came the glowing plug with the fox tail attachment.

Isolde raised an eyebrow. "For special occasions."

They ended up with a frankly obscene amount: the rose-quartz wand, the cuffs, a bottle of warming oil that smelled like cinnamon and sin, a set of graduated crystal beads, and—because Isolde insisted—"something for Oliver too".

Ariana paid with trembling hands while the elven clerk wrapped everything in discreet black paper and tied it with crimson ribbon.

"You ladies have excellent taste," the clerk purred. "Come again."

Ariana made a strangled noise and fled.

They emerged into the late afternoon sun, bags swinging, Ariana still dazed and walking slightly funny.

Isolde looked entirely too pleased with herself.

It didn't take long to spot Oliver and Seraphine near the central fountain. Seraphine was staring at a street magician pulling roses out of thin air, head tilted in deep analysis.

Oliver noticed them first.

"Where the hell were you two? We've been waiting twenty minutes."

Isolde's smile was slow and filthy.

"Oh, we were just… playing with some toys."

Oliver blinked. "Toys? What are you, five?"

Ariana made a tiny dying sound and hid behind her bags.

Isolde leaned in, voice low and teasing. "Adult toys, hero. The kind you're very familiar with."

Oliver opened his mouth. Closed it. Glanced at Ariana's tomato-red face, then at the suspiciously bulky black parcel in Isolde's hand.

"...You didn't."

"Oh, I did." She patted the package. "You'll see everything tonight."

Before Oliver could demand details, Ariana suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his arm with desperate strength.

"LOOK!" she yelped, pointing wildly at a nearby stall. "SKEWERS! Spicy honey-glazed ones! They smell amazing! Let's eat! Right now! Food! Yes!"

Oliver blinked at the abrupt subject change. "Uh… sure?"

Seraphine turned from the magician. "Observation: Subject Ariana's heart rate elevated 180%. Possible culinary excitement or embarrassment."

Ariana let out a high-pitched whine.

Isolde just laughed, looping her arm through Oliver's and steering them all toward the food stalls.

"Come on, hero. Dinner first. Then dessert."

She gave the black parcel a little shake and without waiting for his reply hooked Seraphine's arm on the left and Ariana's on the right and walked towards the skewer stall.

Behind Oliver swallowed hard.

This was going to be a long night.

Walking back through the busy evening market, arms full of clothes, everyone felt slightly tired but strangely excited.

All for totally different reasons.

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