Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Prying Eyes (Patreon)

The space between the combatants crackled with possibility. The Black Knight stood resplendent in full plate, ready and waiting for the first blow. A bead of sweat trickled down Occultist’s brow. Within the sylph’s mind, opening gambits flitted one to the next, each charged with risk and reward. She might advance slow, high guard ready, and aim for the thinly-armored spot between helm pauldron. She might reverse her grip. Whirl and dodge, taking the leg on the backswing. Backpedal and buff. Throw pocket sand. 

“Pizza’s here,” said her opponent. 

“What?” said Occultist. 

“Pizza’s here,” repeated her enemy. “BRB.” 

“Shouldn’t we conclude our business before…?”

But it was too late. The signs were plain. Though both warriors still stood upon the field of combat, Occultst was suddenly alone. The woman opposite had taken on a blank stare and rigid stance all too familiar for a seasoned adventurer. It was the listlessness, and Occultist could only wait for it to pass.

Seconds dragged by. Occultist pushed a button or two on her scryPhone. Kicked a small rock. Adjusted the personal winds about her hair. Presently, a thin voice issued from her opponent’s helm: “Wasn’t there supposed to be cheesy bread?” it said. But the sound came hollow, as if heard dimly from another room. 

“Well then,” said the sylph, eyeing her opponent’s cuirass. “Might as well.” And she produced a can opener from the depths of her belt pouch.