A small post (sharing my writing.)

Indemira wasn't one for abiding by those pesky laws. In her mind, they only applied to peasants. A patrician, like herself, regarded them as mere suggestions. It was this naughty attitude that had enticed her pride, Casimir. The rogue was born of lesser stock, but he had his uses. Myan had claimed him, so it only seemed natural to do what she did best: one up the fox-eared strumpet.

Casimir's admiration for Indemira was evident in his every glance, in the way they shared their intimate moments. The Varenkun people were renowned for their grace and allure, traits that the jinniyah had adopted. She may have enhanced certain aspects of her appearance, but who could blame her? Beauty was a weapon, one she intended to wield to her advantage.

The trek through the swamp was onerous. The foul air, filthy water, and enormous insects were unbecoming of one of her station. It didn't help that Indemira couldn't resist flaunting her faultless characteristics and capital. She'd rather be caught dead than not doused in her vanilla-infused perfume, colorful and bejeweled habiliment, and jewelry. Her outfit was skin-tight, made from the scales of fallen saurians. She was going native, trying her best to blend in with the savages of the jungle.

The mud made each step taxing, compelling the enchantress to grouse under her breath. "The defiled can scorch this place, that would be fine by me." She complained before flicking her green hair back. Her nose wiggled as her rabbit ears drooped. That small cotton tail wagged as she soughed while grabbing her hips. The djinn presented her lion with a highfalutin huff and glare as if she expected him to do something.

Indemira smacked her succulent lips together, only to pull some chapstick from her breast and apply it to her plump lips. She'd smack them together before sliding it back inside of her pocket realm, only to pull out some perfume and spray it to ward off the offensive odor of decay.

"Better..." she muttered, only to freeze as a giant dragonfly landed on her bust. Indemira froze, her color fading from her striking face. The patrician jumped and clung to a nearby willow tree, swinging her fan to scare off the bug. Once it buzzed off, she sighed, closing her eyes and waiting for Casimir's aid. The ruins were visible in the distance, making this unnecessary delay irksome.

The jinniyah was aware of what they were searching for. But try as Casimir may, she wouldn't disclose what rested in that tomb. The way she saw it, they weren't pillaging a tomb or defiling a culture. They were liberating its treasures to enrich those in need, mainly her house. She was confident the former inhabitants would understand. After all, there were few as important as her.