{Aphria}
No matter how much Aphria drank from her cup, the amount of tea inside would never be reduced.
It was strange, but not unwelcome. Focusing on this object, putting all of her attention into this one simple task of lifting this teacup up to her lips and sipping from it, was enough to avoid hearing the cries for help in her memories.
So, gladly, Aphria kept drinking from it, until that foreigner appeared out of the corner of her eye and walked toward the table.
She did not sit down, though.
[A brief visit, I suppose.]
Taken away from the tea in her hands, Aphria's eyes fell on the stranger.
Aphria couldn't help but wonder how many lovers this girl had in her world. Maybe standards were different where she was from, but in Aphria's eyes, she possessed the kind of transient beauty one would only expect to see in dreams. Every time her eyes fell upon the warrior, Aphria wanted to do nothing more than get up and take her.
