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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Mar 15, 2016 17:06:13 GMT
Her response to the firm command was both expected given her current behavior, and completely unpredictable. The laugh that escaped her kept its predatory edge, but her hand lifted from the table to run her fingertips along his arm and shoulders as she circled behind him, completely changing the focus of what it was she might be hunting. “I’m not going to stop you,” she purred contradictorily even to her own actions, unperturbed as the man continued working to help the little bird.
As he worked, however, her attention slid back to the crow, lowering herself to be at eye level with it. “Hello little one,” she whispered, barely audible. “We’re not so different, you know. I wonder if you can tell.” This time, it was hard to tell if her tone meant anything at all. As the bird was swooped up to be mended, she turned her attention to the rest of the room, exploring the walls and visible papers, not seeming interested in the drawers and hidden contents. Yet.
The woman didn’t miss a beat as the man’s attention shifted back to her, the simple fact that she was mid-turn to face away from him being all that hid this new smile. It was different, and yet not so dissimilar from earlier smiles. It would also redefine the definition of a “predatory” smile.
The cloak magnificently swirled out as she spun about with the faintest shower of melted snow, taking a seat in the fur-laden chair. “You were just giving me permission to stay here until the storm passes,” she explained as if that had truly been the conversation before the crow’s unexpected arrival, one leg folding itself over the other. “it’s a generous offer,” the woman continued, now completely shifted from predatory to damsel in distress. “Your willingness to share your sanctuary is truly genteel, and I am so thankful for it. I would be happy to fully express my gratitude…”
It was at this point her hands, having gestured grandly as she spoke, hand made it to her throat, the latch holding her cloak on being undone as the weight of the furs helped slide it off her. Her last two words changed tone again, an interest she had only teased at before.
“For you.”
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 4, 2016 23:42:34 GMT
“Of course…” Ardin had merely replied, too distracted to argue. When she sat before him, and removed her cloak, however… he was now distracted by something else…
But he would not be swayed by her, no matter how beautiful she was. He turned away, wiping his hands, removing the dry blood. “I can give you nothing but a place to stay for the night… and perhaps some broth, if you so desire, and if there is any left.” He added, firmly. Why a woman like her would be interested in him anyway, he did not know. Perhaps it was a trick. But of what kind? If she wished to steal from him, there was no need to go through this seductress act. He would be too weak to stop her from snatching trinkets and disappearing into the night.
“So…” He began again, passing by the window to close the small latch firmly, before realising he had already done so. “You are not from the village, so where are you from?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 5, 2016 0:46:14 GMT
The woman’s smile remained, keeping the suddenly lusty glint to her eyes and hunger to her curled lip. “Are you so sure you have nothing else to give?” she asked, teasing once more. This time, however, she wasn’t entirely kidding. Being alone was… boring at night.
Besides, that dark aura still surrounded him. She wanted to know more.
As he tried to change the topic, she let out a soft giggle, pulling herself up out of the chair in a fluid motion as she went to stand in front of him. “I’m from far, far away,” she began, blocking the path he would likely have continued past the window. “I didn’t like it there though… so boring,” she went on, eyeing him to show that she thought he was a lot more interesting. “I wanted to go on to bigger and better things.”
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 5, 2016 0:57:46 GMT
He paused, meeting her eyes squarely. She was still trying for this? Her actions perplexed him... and in another life, perhaps he would have succumbed. But he would not falter. At her words, he stifled a chuckle. "Then you've come to the wrong place." And then he did pointedly walk past her, sitting down in the chair she had just vacated. "There is nothing here for you but boring old men." He leant back in the chair, regarding her with his stern, chocolate-coloured eyes, trying to work her out and understand her motive. At that moment, the crow glided lazily down, perching on his shoulder, and regarding the woman with beady eyes. "What is your name, stranger?" Ardin asked, suddenly.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 5, 2016 2:11:35 GMT
“My favorite,” she purred at his attempt at dismissal, laughing as he walked by. “Those who say they’re uninteresting are always the most interesting,” she rebutted, taking a moment to pretend she hadn’t heard his sudden question.
Before the man could argue, however, she managed to close the distance between them and sat in his lap, the far leg coming up and over in order to pin his arm to the chair. “I’m Datura, stranger,” she continued to purr, finally noticing the crow again. Huffing for a moment, she made a gesture to try and shoo the bird away. “Go on, let the adults play,” she scolded, even as her tone remained playful, the raised hand tracing the man’s profile as it came down to rest on his chest.
“So what do old men call themselves, then?” she asked, not seeming to care that her shoo hadn’t done much of anything except get an odd look from the bird.
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Post by Kelathi on Jun 5, 2016 2:30:21 GMT
This is not what he had intended.
He had, in fact, hoped his dismissal of her would be the end of it... but no such luck. She had moved before he had chance to protest, and as she seated herself, he met her lustful gaze with a frown. "I am Darian, and you are quickly overstaying your welcome." He warned. He did not wish to unceremoniously drop her onto the floor, but if she carried on like this, he would have little choice. All earlier embarrassment was now gone, replaced with a desire to distance himself from this lustful vixen. Something about her just... warned him to stay away. And he did not think it was just in the forward way that she acted. It was hard to read her true intentions for one thing, and for another, there was something... predatory about her. He feared that if he were to be ensnared by her, he might never escape...
That mischievous jasper! It made sense now. She was the one whom had ruined the reading. She unknowingly staved death for him. But at what cost? He found himself thinking, bitterly. It was at that moment he realise just how old he was... or at least, how old he felt. Here was a beautiful woman throwing herself at him... and he couldn't wait to move away! Meanwhile, the crow looked indignant at the shooing it had received... but made no motion to move, or cease in it's staring.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 5, 2016 3:06:16 GMT
“Ooh… that sounds rather exciting,” Datura purred at his warning, a genuine glimmer of pleasure lighting up her jasper red eyes. She seemed to be wholly truthful this time, which didn’t help the situation either as she curled around him a little more.
Then she pulled out of his lap, nearly yanking him out of the chair in her haste to disentangle. Haste, it seemed, to settle somewhere more comfortable. She immediately bent down, assets aimed well, to pick up some of the furs that had fallen earlier. These she carried over to the bed in the corner, tossing them on as if preparing a nest. The kind of nest Darian could guess at.
Rather than settle into the bed, however, Datura moved across the room again, following her nose towards the broth he had mentioned before. Huffing softly again, she lifted the lid, studying the liquid inside intently. “Hunt for us tomorrow, shall I?” she asked, sounding hungry in the more usual sense with the remark. To bounce back and forth so easily… either an intelligent way of distracting the man from something, or she had an incredibly short attention span.
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Post by Kelathi on Nov 2, 2016 18:00:10 GMT
"If you wish." He merely replied, with a wave of his hand. So it seemed she was staying... And he doubted there was little he could do to sway her from her intentions. He glanced up at the bird, who met his gaze patiently. The news it had brought him had not been good. Not in the form of words, but in the form of fresh blood and an injured wing...
His heart tugged in his chest, it was almost painful, the longing he had to jump up and race out into the storm. But logic told him at least to wait until morning. Logic... And that heavy lethargy he could never seem to shift. But he didn't matter, not anymore. He had been ready to leave this world merely hours ago, now, now it simply would not be possible. He had to find out what had happened to her before he passed into the next world, wherever it may be, or if it even existed...
As for this woman? Well, hopefully she would be gone by the morning. For now, he just had to humour her. She did not seem to read body language well, or perhaps more likely, she chose to ignore it. She did not mind that he did not wish to be disturbed by her, and she seemed to find his reluctance to engage in her games rather amusing. She would grow bored of him soon, and the quicker, the better.
He would take his sword. He had decided it as soon as he had gathered the injured bird into his arms. He could not fight, but neither could he bear to leave it behind. He would take some trinkets to sell along the way, so he might be able to sleep in a few inns on the way. It would be a long journey, it would not hurt to be prepared. He found his mind again burdened by the presence of Datura... Maybe hunting wasn't such a bad idea, if she hunted big enough game, maybe he could cook some, and wrap it up for on the journey.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Nov 2, 2016 20:36:08 GMT
The cackle she offered at his simple reply was… a little unnerving. “Oh, I wish,” she purred, walking back over to Darian. Wordlessly, she traced down the front of his shirt until she got to a fold, using it to grab and haul him out of the chair, proving to be stronger than she looked and had acted.
Her giggle remained unnerving as she guided him over to the little nest she had haphazardly tossed together, her lips hovering near his as she whispered, the hunger back in full once more.
“I hate to be bored at night…”
One good push into the bed, and she landed on top of him…
---
So much for any intentions she might have had that night.
She managed to put in one lusty lick across his cheek before yawning, stretching, and passing out on top of him like an oversized cat. The stranger didn’t stir until the morning, not even seeming to notice as her human pillow slid out from under her soon after being trapped.
Waking up, she mumbled, groaned, and stretched again, slowly pushing herself up onto all fours, then sitting back on her heels. The black curls were even wilder than in the wind, a few curls falling before her groggy eyes. She studied the area around her, spotting the man who had been nice enough to not simply boot her out again. With a sleepy smile, she brushed the hair out of her face with both hands, leaning back to rest on a hand. “Well good morning,” she purred, managing the smooth tone even though she looked half drunk. She studied him for a few more moments, letting out a soft laugh.
“Don’t always expect to get so lucky, Darian,” she added, the little curl in her lip being as suggestive as anything else she had done so far. She still hadn’t lost any of her intentions, then. Odd that she herself would joke about him being lucky about escaping those intentions…
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Post by Kelathi on Nov 6, 2016 16:15:51 GMT
((BEST REPLY EVER XD omfg haha))
No words of protest would have saved him from the lustful creature that night, nor... Had he actually uttered any. Taken by surprise at her sudden movement, and finding himself suddenly on the flat of his back with a strong, beautiful woman baring down on him... At that moment, resisting had been the last thing on his mind. Excitement had stirred within the pit of his stomach, but whether she had seen the subtle change in him, the fact that he was not pushing her away and in truth, his eyes glinted with curiosity... he was not sure, for no sooner had his body responded eagerly and his mind accepted her attempts, deciding to no longer fight but to succumb to this firery temptress... She had stilled.
Had... Had she...?
She had fallen asleep!
He lay there in the dark, heart pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. Tentatively, he raised a hand towards her silky locks. Brushing them gently received no response, merely a gentle, unconscious sleep-addled sigh. Was this a trick? Or had she... Truly fallen asleep on top of him, after all of that? After a few moments it became clear that this was indeed the case. Slowly his senses returned to him and his body began to calm, and he tried to push away the fact that he was mildly... Disappointed. Quietly and carefully he slipped from the warm entanglement of her form, and left her sleeping peacefully and undisturbed in the furs. Now standing at the window, the glass pane fogging with his breath, he mused for a moment what might have happened had she not passed out.
And then he mused no more, for suddenly he felt drained. He felt old... So very old, much older than the vixen in his bed. This was ludicrous, to think that he had even entertained such a thought! But she... She puzzled him so. She fought so hard to ensnare him, and then in the instant it seemed she had succeeded she had pulled away. She was an enigma, he did not know how to handle her, and she made him dizzy...
Perhaps this was a sign, he thought then. Perhaps... Her reaction was more of a mechanism, this lustful, feral creature she seemed to be was just an act, one she played well and therefore easily slipped into the role of. Otherwise, it should not have been so easy for her to fall asleep, if she had really wanted any of it. So... What did she gain from it, if not joy? A sense of control, perhaps? Or was this just what she thought was expected of her?
Perhaps he was thinking on this too deeply. A flutter of wings brought him back to the present, and he sensed beady black eyes staring at him. Perhaps she was simply what she seemed. Either way, he felt his resolve strengthen. His reluctance to indulge in these acts with her was well founded, he was convinced of that now. Even if he didn't quite know why...
By morning, Ardin, or 'Darian', as he had claimed to be named, was already packed and ready to go. It had not taken him long to round up a few possessions, and pack them into a worn satchel. Inside was a handful of bread, a selection of sweet-smelling spices in little glass vials (to help keep any meat he should store later, fresh) a leather water bag, and all his trinkets which he intended to sell in the village in exchange for coin, so that he might purchase a horse. By now the storm had completely abated, crisp, unmolested snow blanketed the landscape, the churning, grey clouds in the sky the only sign that there had been a storm at all, their lingering presence promising more later.
The last thing Ardin had done, after much deliberation, had been to remove a few pieces of rubble from the shattered staircase, and retrieve his glinting treasure hidden beneath. He had then wrapped the sword in a worn, unremarkable garment, and tucked it into his belt, lashed there with strips of leather. His cloak fell over it, obscuring it mostly from view, if not completely hiding it. He had considered leaving it behind, but he knew it to be a notion that he would not kid himself into even thinking he would entertain. Even if he could never reclaim it, it was his last link to his past, to whom he had been... Even though the discovery of the weapon by the wrong people would damn him, he would sooner leave a piece of his soul behind than abandon it.
He was just retrieving handfuls of scraps of parchment from the desk drawers when he heard her stir. He noted once again how feline her movements seemed as she stretched languidly, focussing her sleep-drunk eyes on him. To her comment, he merely smiled. It was small, merely a slight curve that was almost undetectable in the gloom, but it was present nonetheless. "I'm counting my blessings." He merely replied, suggesting that he was glad events had turned out the way they had. He continued to pull the yellowing leaves of parchment from the desk until he held them all, speaking to her as he did so. "I am leaving today, for a long journey. You may stay here as long as you need the shelter, or I can accompany you to the town on my way out, now the storm has passed. All I ask in return is a share of your hunt today, to help me on my way."
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Nov 6, 2016 16:51:00 GMT
(I can clearly hear Datura complaining about Ardin's analysis of why she so easily fell asleep… how she just fought a snowstorm using magic to change her shape wore her out and that next time he won’t be so “lucky” XD)
All of Darian’s movements that morning had gone unnoticed, but it didn’t take long for Datura to size up the situation. Instead of looking annoyed that her “quarry” was already planning to leave her, she looked very amused.
Even so, she made no other reference to her comment, almost as if she hadn’t heard his own soft remark. Mostly, she seemed fixated on his attempt to leave her, like a cat might find it funny to see a mouse trying to scamper away. It didn’t matter that Darian had none of the mannerisms of a man trying to flee her appetite. In fact, it was almost because he wasn’t that she was behaving herself.
“Hunting?” she suddenly echoed, eyes brightening up and quickly pulling her from her sleepy stance. She grabbed for her cloak, swinging it up and over her shoulders as she pushed towards the door. “I hope there’s good game between us and town,” she purred, fastening the cloak in place. “Big game…”
Coming up so close to Darian suggested she might slide past in the same manner as the night before. Instead, she seemed preoccupied by the idea of hunting, sliding past with no more contact than might be expected of other people. Only in the bright, reflected light of the snow could one take a closer look at the fur that topped the cloak, its myriad of textures now distinct rather than merely discernable. There were two types of feathers, long and stiff or softly rounded, partly hidden amongst thick guard hairs and silken patches of fur. It was harder to count the types of fur, as one seemed to blend into another as if it came off of the same chimera, but there were certain patterns even in the white that could be noticed. Stripes had been there once, along with spots, leaving ghostly imprints that couldn’t quite be studied.
“As for blessings…” she unexpectedly added over her should as she slipped past him out into the snow, shooting a glance that again redefined the interpretation of a hunter’s gaze. “It won’t be long before you’ll be done counting.”
So she hadn’t missed his remark after all.
(I’ll let you decide the town part )
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 18, 2016 23:57:03 GMT
She seemed pleased at the prospect of a hunt, which he decided to take as a good sign, rather than a faintly worrying one... there was something about the way her eyes glinted at his words that made him a little on edge. This feeling was not put to rest as easily as he would have liked, after her last comment...
With a sigh, he turned to the candles. Instead of snuffing them out, he lifted the pile of parchment to the flame, and let it's orange tongue flick away at the paper, consuming his words and leaving nothing but ash. He placed the burning paper on the desk, the aged wood had been varnished long ago, and would not set fire even with it's orange, crackling burden. Even if it did, it was of little concern to him. He doubted he would return to this place. As he turned to follow Datura, he grabbed the wooden staff from besides the door, and the crow swooped down and landed on his shoulder, sitting there until he shoved the door closed one last time, at which point it flitted ahead to rest in the snow-laden branch of a nearby tree.
Outside, it was nowhere as bad as the evening before. The storm had greatly abated by now, calmed by the onset of the day. The wind had eased greatly, only offering little whispers of cool air that lifted the tendrils of their hair, and the sky was still a blanket of white, but for now, there was no snow flurry. That would certainly make it easier to hunt, he thought to himself, as he hung back. He motioned for his companion to go ahead. "Lead on, we should hunt first." He had never been much of a hunter, his skills instead had always lay in fighting. Now, he thought grimly, he was little use for either.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 19, 2016 17:58:02 GMT
Datura’s expression retained its edge as she watched the firelight rise up through the window, as if bemused by the action. It was, in fact, a mask, as always, hiding any other feelings she had. Curiosity was the fire behind the windows of her eyes, distorted by their predatory veneer, fascinated that someone who had so jealously guarded the papers would in turn set them ablaze.
His prompt for their next course of action earned a light laugh, the white cloak swung gracefully to skim over the snow that came up so high even against her long legs. “Any suggestions on what I should be hunting?” she asked while her eyes took his measure in again, still showing her genuine if potentially dangerous interest. Inwardly, she noted the crow keeping its distance, as if as eager to lead as it was to follow. The moment it tried to peck at her, as she assumed it would eventually, it would be on the menu in a very different way than she had decided Darian was.
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