little do you know

POSTED: Sat Mar 24, 2018 12:46 am

Etoile toyed with the idea as she ate, pulling long strips of meat away from bone as she lost herself to the splendor of Salsola. The life of a Mercenary never came with so much wealth and as she chewed she considered the savagely beautiful women that surrounded her, the stalwart men who chewed and cheered when their leaders spoke. Jacquard was laughing loudly, the sound booming as he pulled someone into a dance - the scruff of his chin moist with ale.

He did not understand the power that came with silence.

Brocade came to her when the music began, his breath sweet with the scent of wine and mead. His golden-gaze was languid, like a large cat that had spent its time rolling in the sun, and he was smiling at her lazily. The expression had her clenching her fists, but when he collapsed into the chair beside her she cocked an ear toward him regardless.

She fought the urge to recoil from him and attempted to smile brightly instead, twirling a piece of dark hair about her four fingered hand.

Perhaps to some the stalwart soldier was a handsome man; he wore his uniform like a badge of honor, the golden cords along his shoulders standing out sharply against his silver. He stood for everything that she had grown to despise - he was easily proud, quietly brooding - a proper gypsy man who thought little of his past.

How little she knew of him. How little she cared.

Brocade was grinning at her, the ale easing him into a friendly banter that had her raising an eyebrow at him.

<"It's different than what I am used to."> She drew a finger around the edge of her goblet - the wine in it untouched. It was better to be sharp as a fledgeling - and as Brocade tipped his head to take another swig she watched the way his exposed throat bobbed up and down above the collar of his tunic.

There would be so much blood rushing through the slender curve of his jugular.

She bared her teeth in a smile as he thumped the mug on the table. Her expression turned predatory, "Do you think she's pretty?"

He blinked foggily, <"Who?">

She leaned on the table and pointed at the darkling woman with a smile like creeping poison ivy.

<"Her.">

Salsola
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Amanda
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you forget I have a gypsy heart
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POSTED: Sat Mar 24, 2018 1:48 am

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It was a night for avarice and danger - The wine flowed free as Pictou's frigid waters, equally as lovely and deadly as that current; Rich and red, Elphaba indulged herself more than normal, intoxicated by her own motives.

She played Krios' expression over and over in her head, the moment when she'd taken his life and put it between her teeth; Oh, sure, Kamari's reaction had not been fulfilling but c'est la vie! You can't win them all.

Twirling the stem of the silver chalice between her fingers, the witch looked out across the hall with all the confident dominion of a young Salvia. The floor was awash with the thick throng of bodies - Someone was singing again, perhaps the Frenchwoman, and a simple percussive accompaniment kept a lively beat that danced in time to the flickering pyres.

It was a thrill of fate that some merrymakers parted just in time for her eyes to meet another pair, across the way. They were silver as her goblet, set like stars against the deep midnight hues of her face, which were scattered with freckles in the same way as the night's canvas above them. The woman was looking at her sharply, pensively; At her side, Brocade's golden-coin gaze also lifted to glance quizzically in her direction.

There was something a little bewildered about the soldier. He was drunk, Elphaba thought; Drunk and mooning all over Etoile.

Making an abrupt decision, the Hierophant rose, her pale ermine coat drifting soft as snow as she floated over to the pair. Folk parted before her without hesitation, some cunning enough to deep their heads in deference, or to make a quick comment about the night's unusual reveals. But Elphaba did not dally - her path was direct, and never once did her gaze drift from the dark Outsider.

She stopped just short of them, and smiled a truly lovely, terrible smile.

"Brocade, have you been teaching your wards the history around this evening's festivities?" Her voice was warm, rich as whisky; She tried to ignore the strange stabbing spike of irritation as the soldier's doting glance moved between herself and Etoile - Etoile, Etoile! How strange and unkind was fate!

Making a dismissive sound, the Hierophant interrupted whatever the soldier's reply was with a delicate wave of one hand. "No matter - the best way to learn is by doing; Oh, I've an idea! Why don't you have this dance with me," Her fingers stretched out invitingly - not toward the Valentine man, for all the chemistry between them, but instead toward the midnight woman herself.

There was no question to the request, though it was phrased as such; Something about Elphaba's very demeanor suggested that there was no room for a denial.

She had an uncanny way of getting what she wanted, after all.


we need a forest fire
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Alaine
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POSTED: Sun Mar 25, 2018 1:13 am

Etoile had come from a family of brothers - eager strapping men who had swept her into their ranks easily. She had held her own against them in all things and had refused to back down even when the odds were against her. The Montgomery clan had instilled so many things in its children, and Etoile had always taken their motto to heart.

Garde bien.

Watch well.

She watched the revellers, legs crossed beneath the folds of her loosely tied dress. There was an art to it, her head carefully tilting to encompass as much of the party as possible without drawing attention to herself. When Brocade asked for another drink she carefully tipped a tiny vial into his drink from the folds of her long sleeves.

Everything was fast and loud, and she made sure no one noticed.

Brocade was drawing a line with his finger between two of the dancers and explaining his relation to them -

<"There,"> He pointed vaguely, his gage of time and space effected by drink, <"That is Calla,"> He was pointing again, <"And Lace,"> another point, <"And Cleome.">

The fuschia eyed man was dancing quietly, his pale sisters chatting quietly as his vision swam.

He was drinking too much, too fast… but he found it impossible to stop.

Every-time he closed his eyes he could feel Elphaba against him, her hands roving beneath the fabric of his tunic.

<"Where is Hyacinth?"> She asked because she knew it would wound him, the separation of his favorite sister. <"She is at the outpost,"> His words dipped sadly, slurring, <"She will come back one day.">

Etoile nodded, but asked no further questions. A woman padded towards the pair and Etoile bowed her head at her approach. "Elphaba," Brocade licked his lips as he corrected himself, "-Heirophant. Of course! Etoile issss learning a new set of traditions." He had risen from the table in an attempt to be respectable, but instead he swayed precariously on his feet.

Etoile stood, "Brocade you should sit." She was stroking his well-muscled arm, smiling affectionately despite the hatred that boiled within her, "Rest, you've drunk too fast." She dipped her head, "He gets like this sometimes." He was staring at the dark woman with unabashed longing, and Etoile took the opportunity to gently caress his shoulder and brush a tendril of his smokey hair back into place. Brocade was panting, loosening the buttons around his throat as the music grew and grew-

"Alright." Etoile toyed with the star pendant at her throat before accepting the Heirophants invitation with a four fingered hand.

Brocade watched the pair as they tread out into the dance floor and he felt his chest go tight with drunken longing.

Salsola
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Amanda
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you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild

POSTED: Sat Mar 31, 2018 8:20 am

Word Count → ??? :: ---

She noticed many little things, like seizing upon a trail of breadcrumbs: The way Etoile's fingers loitered on the soldier's muscular arm, the way he looked at her with droopy drunken eyes and seemed to sway by the force of that little touch alone. She'd never seen the Valentine man so deep in his cups, but supposed perhaps that the evening called for it - who was she to judge? Her own blood was thickened with wine.

It made her feel distempered and reckless, like she could hold a man in her arms with great tenderness one moment, and rip out his throat with her teeth the next.

But tonight she wanted no man's company. Brocade was making a right fool of himself, and after their last moments alone she wasn't sure that she trusted herself to behave around him. As per usual, Neith and O'Riley were nowhere to be seen, seemingly disinterested in the night's frivolities.

It was just as well. She had her mind set on one individual in particular, after all; And with barely a beat's hesitation, Etoile reached out and took her offered hand.

Smiling gregariously, Elphaba wove her fingers through the other woman's and tugged her out toward the milling dancers.

The french woman came willingly, something that the witch registered with a modicum of surprise. She had expected some sort of self-preserving reluctance, but it seemed that Etoile was largely unafraid of the deeper machinations of such an offer. There was a small spark of challenge in the act, one that the Hierophant fixated on with unadulterated glee.

Many voices swirled around them. Turning to face her unlikely partner, Elphaba reached out to rest her free hand on the dark woman's upper arm invitingly. "Are you much of a dancer?" Her voice was low and rich beneath the hubbub of the simple melody. "Here, let me show you how." Applying a little push of force through the contact, she took the leading step in a simple sway.

Conscious of Brocade's eyes following their every movement, the witch pulled her partner in a little closer, and let one hand drop scandalously to her waist.


we need a forest fire
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Alaine
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burn the witch
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POSTED: Sun Apr 01, 2018 6:46 pm

The Last Supper reminded the gypsies of their time spent amongst the caravans - a time where members of feuding families came together on one night to share food and stories. There was nothing that lingered beneath the surface, no game with which you had to learn the rules and decide to play them. It had taken Brocade a long time to finally understand the game that ran beneath Salsolas truth, and even longer to decide to finally play it. He had begun with collecting his jobs, demonstrating to himself and others that he was a useful member of society.

His interest in Elphaba had come later, and even now he wasn't sure how it fit into anything at all.

He watched them dance drunkenly, clutching at the golden collar of his tunic as the music swelled and grew around them. There were others here watching - and he could see the golden Queen and her many consorts, her pale daughter with the emerald eyes... and the new violet eyed apprentice. The was his family too - members of the family, but of his own blood.

He glanced at Etoile with her star-kissed cheeks and wondered how she fit into any of it at all.

Elphaba kept Etoile close, her dark hands circling the womans waist as they began to spin through the other dancers. The gypsy-woman was laughing, and Brocade drunkenly wished he could hear what it was that they discussed. He took another long sip of his drink and rested his scruffy chin in his hands.

"Brocade!" It was Jacquard who came and thumped him on the shoulder, collapsing into a chair alongside him, <"My friend - how much have you drunk?"> The man was laughing as Brocade groggily glanced at him, <"And what is happening there."> He watched the dancers keenly, whistling low, "Mon dieu they are beautiful."

Brocade shoved him so that the man was forced into silence.

Etoile twirled with Elphaba as the french music started - a familiar language that had the woman smiling. It was faster and somewhere someone had begun to beat a faster tempo on a rudimentary drum.

"We gypsies were made for dancing my lady." The slow dance had her tipping her head back, "Let me show you."

Salsola
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Amanda
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you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild

POSTED: Sun Apr 15, 2018 3:30 am

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Somewhere along the way she forgot that Brocade's gold-coin stare was important; She forgot the calculation of her movement, its intended purpose, and felt only instead the rush of elation as the skirts of Etoile's dress swirled about her ankles, the colors of the two garments and the two women melding into one. Every now and again a tassel would tickle her elbow or cheek, and laughing, Elphaba would click her teeth and spin again.

The mercenary was true to her word; She danced like one of the Free Folk, the lean muscles in her body giving Elphaba all the structure she needed to follow along.

Above them in the pitch sky the stars wheeled, resplendent.

Finally, wordless and breathless, the song came to an end. The Hierophant's eyes had darkened by now to the color of rich wine, and were sharp with the reflection of pyre sparks. Beneath the pale fur of her cheeks, the skin was flushed and warm. Etoile's sinuous body stilled beside her, and their feet came to ground. The dance was done.

Her hands lingered on the other woman's waist for just a moment too long; She saw something there in the silver eyes, something that reminded her of-

Jacquard's rambunctious clapping tore her attention away from the crystalline moment. Looking back toward the two men - Brocade was slumped about his cup, his eyes the glint of gold at the bottom of a murky riverbed - she dipped in a coy bow.

"I hope we'll dance again," Her fingers trailed reluctantly down Etoile's arms before dropping away. Something wicked danced in the glossy shine of her gaze, something full of promise and intent.


we need a forest fire
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Alaine
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POSTED: Sun Apr 15, 2018 3:55 am

Brocade felt himself spinning out of control. Every movement was slow as syrup, every though cloudy with fog. He felt himself thinking that their dance was too fast, too close... but there was nothing to be said, for no words ever formed upon his lips. Jacquard was rumbling about something, clapping his back and standing as the music rose and fell - a drumming beat echoing solemnly in his head.

It took him far too long to realize that it was his heart beat.

"Aie, Broc-" Jacquard was shaking him gently as the womens dance ended, "We should take you home."

Etoile squeezed Elphabas hand and curtsied, grinning toothily as she adjusted her skirts so that they fell into place properly. "You are a natural Mesdam." Her smile was electric, warm from the song that still spun in her heart. Brocade was slurring, struggling to stand as he leaned on Jacquard and on the edge of the thick table. "I-" His teeth clicked sloppily and Jacquard laughed, "Try again tomorrow messir."

Etoile trotted towards them, gathering the mans other arm.

She did not notice the tiny vial which rolled from her sleeve and landed with barely a sound to the side of the mans chair.

"Lets take him home Jac." Brocade groggily tilted his head as if to say good bye to the Heirophant, but by then it was too late - they had already dragged him off into the shadows and towards the empty cabin which he called his home. They made good time, though had to stop once so that he could retch into the bushes that bordered the path. Jacquard was shaking his head, "I have never seen him so messed up."

Brocade passed out the moment he was tossed into his cot. Jacquard was ushered from the room with the promise that she would look after him and then join the taller man in the caravan outside.

Etoile tossed a blanket haphazardly over his still dressed form and immediately set about searching his things - turning items and hefting them in her hands with a sharp expression. The gold coin attracted her interest almost immediately, and without thinking she stored it in the satchel that hung about her hip. There were pieces of red twine too, and a piece of silver that she hoarded away.

She left with a grin, "Sleep tight Valentine."

In his sleep the man groaned.

Salsola
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Amanda
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you forget I have a gypsy heart
listen to the wild

POSTED: Sun Apr 15, 2018 4:20 am

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She followed the trio with her eyes as they left. Brocade was awkwardly draped over the two mercenaries, his muscular form encumbering their jovial retreat. The crowd was thinning now - Though the sky was deep and purpled with night, a telltale mauve glow on one horizon suggested that dawn would come soon enough.

Elphaba was just turning to find her grandmother when the firelight winked off of the vial. It was so small, almost innocuous there on the flat trampled ground of the feasting hall; She might have missed it if only she'd had another drink of wine.

The liveliness of Etoile's dance still racing hotly in her blood, the Hierophant reached down to hold the curious item in her palm. It was still warm, and smelled of the mercenary woman's humble perfume.

Slowly the lingering smile on Elphaba's black lips faded.

Her pupils narrowed.

To confirm her suspicions, she pulled free the little stopper and took a sniff of the few droplets that remained inside the vial; Her nose wrinkled at once. Her head lifted in the direction that the three had gone.

Though she made no move to follow them, in the shadow cast by the pyre Elphaba's eyes were black and full of wanton malice.


we need a forest fire
Salsola
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Alaine
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burn the witch
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