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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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| Setting | Location | Form | NPCs |
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Location: Date: 28 Sep* (Foredated) Weather: Clear, warm Time: Afternoon |
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Machidael is by me!
It was only after almost three hours of cajoling, whining, and pleading that Machidael got Verenna out of the hovel where they'd shacked up. Machidael wanted desperately to parade her around as proof of his manhood, though of course it was not so defined a desire as that. The curve of her belly was now apparent, and she'd put on several pounds -- evidence of her good eating at Machidael's hand. A half-eaten carcass of deer was, even then, waiting for their return, strung up outside of their room.
For his part, Machidael was striding and peering around, searching feverishly for someone to view Verenna and her condition, proof as it was of his masculinity and ability to reproduce. The streets of the city were empty, however, and Machi soon found himself meandering further into suburbia. Verenna whined a few times behind him, dragging her feet, and he turned to shout at her. She quailed as she had done when he'd screamed earlier.
More and more he found himself resorting to shouts. There was no reason she should lay upon the hotel room's floor all day -- the women in the raider clan rode their horses until the very end of pregnancy, and she was not showing so much as protruding just slightly (and it might have been mistaken for fat, at that). He was, he justified, getting her up and about as much for her own good as to stroke his own ego, and he kept this thought in mind as he dropped back, looping an arm begrudgingly about her waist.
Only small bit, he said, laboring over the words. It was not so hard as he made it sound, but he would still play the slow learner with her. Small bit, he said, snaking a hand up to squeeze her breast. She winced and slapped his hand away.
Stop it, they're sore, Verenna said. Machidael obeyed, but slid his hand down to her rear instead. She did not protest at this, and looked over at him with a tired-seeming smile. Machidael could not know it, but she was at least sincere in her desire to make him her man. As such, she'd tolerate -- and even enjoy -- his masculine attentions. The jackal hybrid led her down a side-street, now peering around less with his hand occupied and his eyes on her breasts -- had they gotten larger?
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