[M] now this tender fascination

p. Claire

POSTED: Thu Jun 16, 2016 2:22 am

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.

M for dem references & lead-up. Near the edge of Black River Reserve, after dark. Attire is this and this, with this underneath button-down. I like to be thorough okay (+400)

It was dark in the forest.

Despite the hour of day- those precious moments before the sun touched the awning of the horizon- the thick canopy of Black River Reserve consumed much of the light that the star would have normally allowed them. Primrose had wanted to remain near the edge of the tangled territory; there, at least, the sights had been more beautiful and less... intrusive. Admittedly, so had the brother. But Bayani knew such things were foolish. Where extra cover was provided them, it should be taken with gratitude, and so he carved the way deeper into the heart of the wood. They set up their measly camp that had done them so well their many months of ceaseless movement; rudimentary sleeping bags, waterskins, and flint and steel; along with, of course, a slapdash collection of several goods, courtesy only of Bayani's selective, less-than-honest fingers. However, when his sister motioned to grab the firestarter, the blue and gray male softly grabbed her hand. She immediately understood, and met his multicolored eyes with distaste as well as sadness. "I will be back before the sun rises." He said, and the comely girl only nodded. "Stay here, Rose. No fire." She offered him only a brief eye-roll, and a soft, reassuring smile. "I will be right here. Go." Reluctantly, he nodded, and after filling his bag with two of their waterskins, a dagger, and a particularly pretty necklace (in case bribery should become of use), he hugged her a brief farewell and delved into the underneath of the Reserve, moving with all the deft stealth of one well-practiced.

He walked swiftly, until the last sliver of sun lost itself behind the farthest peak. Slowly, the painted colors of dusk were erased into velvet darkness. Bayani managed to bag one rabbit before sight was lost to him, through means of a dagger and excellent aim. He had hoped to capture more, but it appeared such was unlikely. He considered setting a snare, but had little luck with such in the past. Gently pressing the soft body of the prey into his bag, the young man began a search for the bubble of water, and found it without much difficulty. The silver slipstream reflected bright the light of the moon and accompanying stars, and Bayani approached. He filled both waterskins to the brim, replaced them, and then lifted the bag from his chest to nestle at a nearby rock. Cold water flowed over his black and pale fingers as he washed dirt of a journey from his doggish-thick fur, from elegantly scarred wrist to claws. He noted that with the icy temperature of the water the tips of his fingers quickly grew numb, and so he ceased his work, choosing instead to crouch next to the stream, hand clasped, with no apparent intention to move. Bayani Grimm watched the river's flow, silent as the night that encompassed him, alone.

Bayani Grimm
Salsola
The Family (NPC)
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Ann
Luperci

POSTED: Thu Jun 16, 2016 11:41 am

familia fortis elegit

She left the safety of Salsola, but not for the purpose of trade. Her body thrilled with wanderlust and her fangs gleamed hungrily in the moonglow for want of prey. She smelled of lilac, gooseberry, and wild roses a scent all her own. She'd bathed away the lovers-scent, that of the lively troubadour whose home she often shared. She'd shaken the brambles from her fur, brushed her hair until it was dark and gleaming and rode out, a ghost in the night pale-furred and lovely. Her pelt was colored like a mountain cat's, a natural and alluring distinction and like a mountain cat she prowled, silent.

She slid nimbly down from the back of her mare to flit from tree to tree like a forest sprite, there one moment, gone the next. It scared a fowl nested in the brush and with a fateful twang the huntress's arrow flew. The grouse never would again. Claire descended on the wounded bird with a decisive and lethal spring. She took it's neck in a clawed and vice-like grip and snap.

She strung the plump kill to Pluie's saddle with bright blue ribbon and after ensuring Pluie was well secured set out again, this time to slake a growing thirst. She stalked through the trees and marsh towards the bright burbling water-song, towards him. No hesitation, no fear. She emerged, her pale fur caught in a moonbeam and saw him out of the corner of her eye and did nothing. Said nothing. She bent at the water's edge and lapped it up leisurely, letting the cool crisp droplets dribble down her white chin and into the valley between her breasts.

ooc she's thirsty, alright. She's thirsty for the d.
Claire's wearing her black crop tank and a black skirt like this but short. And has her bow and arrows. Bow has blue ribbon on the ends and her arrows are fletched with raven's feathers.

Syringa D'Angelo
Salsola
The Warden (NPC)
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Stormie
Luperci Mercante Mate to Weaver

POSTED: Fri Jun 17, 2016 1:49 am

so thiry (+500)

It was an unearthly quiet near the riverbed that night. His tall ears strained to hear something, anything; but the wind was nonexistent, sound absent- the faint movement of water was his only anchor to reality. It allowed him several moment of time to roil in his own thoughts, multicolored gaze unmoving on the rocks that disrupted the ceaseless flow of the stream. He should have continued to find game, for a rabbit was scarcely adequate for a party of his sister and himself. But Bayani did not move; he did not even seek to find an unlucky traveler, whose camp was open and available to his silent taking. There were plenty around, should one choose to travel a handful of hours. Instead, he moved to sit carefully on the nearest stone, dark toes just brushing the edge of the stream, his movements uncaring even as they began to grow numb at the chill of water. Months of this endless movement had left him a tired form, lank and comely still but with leagues less spark. The muscles knotted along the scape of his back had not smoothed since receiving the scars that adorned his wrist and experiencing exile of his birthplace; the life was a rough, uncertain one, and he was constantly fretting over the well-being of Primrose. Her eyes shined with gratitude and perhaps awe at his ceaseless duties to keep them fed and out of harms' way, but he did not feel like the hero she wanted him to be. He wished for a distraction from the weight that bowed him, and his silent request did not go unanswered.

Her approach was not invisible to one born from the necessity of stealth and silence, and so with the faintest rustlings that could only be product of footsteps, the young man's doggishly tall ears flicked, mismatched gaze flitting from the shadows of the water to the shadows of the woods. A ghost approached, one of pale body strewn with attire of dark tailoring. He had no doubt that the stranger was aware of his presence, and instead chose to either ignore it or act on it. Water glistened among pale curvature, a deft element to her movements drew Bayani to glance back instead of feign ignorance. He considered, briefly, taking his things and melting back to shadow. But a stranger so pretty and strange had the young man curious, though only eyes of blue and brown could betray such a thought. He left his bag near the stone, not because he forgot it, but because he was expertly cautious around the potential thieving of others. Not that they could succeed.

He approached, moon playing along the pale grays and blues of his form, and crouched not too far from the oddity, running a pale hand along his forearm to pull a dark and worn sleeve higher up. The barest glisten of a chain lost in collie-esque fur hung from the collar before he chose to speak, voice intriguing as much as it was intrigued. "You are a native to these lands." It was not a question, but an observation. Bayani's eyes were dark as he watched her, waiting.

Bayani Grimm
Salsola
The Family (NPC)
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Ann
Luperci

POSTED: Fri Jun 17, 2016 12:19 pm

familia fortis elegit

He moved in her peripheral, stashing a bag and tugging at a distressed sleeve. She feigned disinterest, gazing now into her reflection in the pearlescent shallows. She pulled her hair free from it's tie and let it fall, a dark halo with but a streak of Ankh's blessed white and combed through the gleaming silk of her hair with pale fingers. An ear tilted in the direction of his near-silent footsteps but Claire didn't rise. Didn't speak not until she was addressed directly.

Mhm, she hummed in reply. The water had since absorbed into the subtle gold of her pelt leaving the faintest stain in her small but alluring bust. which would make you an Outsider. Hers wasn't a question, either.

At last she looked up and her eyes were thorough. She made no attempt to hide this. They caught his own and within was an invitation. Claire leaned back on her knees and splayed her fingers in the moist and rocky soil behind her for support turning and opening up her torso for the benefit of his mismatched gaze.

She cast a glance briefly at his former perch then back at him. Her smile was clever and teasing. Your possessions are safest on your person. If I wanted to take them I need only be swift. She flicked her tail absently to suggest that this was far from her mind. Lucky for you, I'm a huntress, not a thief.

She leveled a stare of her topaz blue eyes And you, Blue One? What are you?

Syringa D'Angelo
Salsola
The Warden (NPC)
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Stormie
Luperci Mercante Mate to Weaver

POSTED: Sat Jun 18, 2016 1:42 am

(+500)

Her movements were very far from subtle. This stranger held her beauty without ignorance of it, and had become apparently skilled at using it as a weapon, of sorts. Bayani was as any man; he was allured, but since birth he had prided himself on self-control. He was a figure of calculation, of thought before action. He did not pursue any pretty face that may present itself so easily to him. There was always an element, however faded, behind such a desire. This ghost, as much as she seemed, was not homeless. She was not a drifter, as he. And while the gooseberry and lilac were the only scents to touch his nose, he felt a secret. Or a multitude of them. The tailoring that adorned her ever-so-enticing curves were of high-quality, of a material essence of darkness. She did a fine job disguising her origin, as he had no inkling of where it may be; but it was not nonexistent. A woman of power and wealth such as she was far from sleeping on the ground when she did not seek it. And so Bayani came closer. Such a being would best be on his side. And it was ever so clear she was not one to chase him off. He sunk into it, with the most determined of motives, though once such a decision was settled upon, it became less important than the siren at hand.

"It would," He agreed, collie-esque ears prominent against the velvet of the sky, darkened gaze never flinching, except for the slip-up allowed to briefly follow the curve of her back as she moved. He was, perhaps, not so provocative as she apparently seemed to be, but he had no reason to conceal his interest, perhaps it be named attraction. Bayani was aware of his own features, and decidedly felt that no performance was needed. The blue that so uniquely yet softly painted his form always seemed to catch some. His eyes flickered back to the stone he had briefly sat upon, a hum of admittance in his throat. They had been unmoved since before her arrival, but perhaps she could smell the rabbit, or caught evidence of a stray leather strap strewn across night-stained grass. Either way, he was drawn to the intelligence of such an observation. "I would enjoy seeing you attempt such a feat." Now, he smiled, a small sort of thing that bordered on a smirk. Eyes glittered. "The latter, in full. Though I plan to steal little tonight." His words were a dare, a play. He wondered what she should take them as. His hand lowered to assist in balancing his crouch, onyx and rose-scarred wrist to brush the sparse grasses of a riverbed. The vaguest tip of his head was gestured, the chain of the crystal adorning his throat slipping further out the dark collar of his attire. "My name," he began, "is Blue." The lie was smooth and without effort anymore, though he offered her another small smile, this one born of the irony of her earlier statement. "And yours, huntress?"

Bayani Grimm
Salsola
The Family (NPC)
User avatar
Ann
Luperci

POSTED: Sat Jun 18, 2016 11:20 am

familia fortis elegit

There was more to his stare, to his face and quiffed hair. A focus not unlike a hunter's, not unlike her own. She could almost hear the gears turning, see the cogs spinning as he sized her up, drank her in to the minutest detail. She did the same and made no game of it. Her topaz eyes roamed freely and caught the familiar glint of silver and her nose drew in the scent of a female of blood. So, he wasn't traveling alone. She cast an idle glance into the wood but saw naught and no one, she hadn't expected to. It was just as well, she had him all to herself. Parfait.

At his admiring look she rolled her shoulders back in a luxuriant stretch accenting the curve of her waist, the arch of her neck. Strands of dark brown hair turned black in the night fell into her face but even then they could not dull the gleam of her gemstone eyes. Mmm. She purred, you make me want to try.

She repositioned herself, sliding her legs forward and out from beneath her and crossing them near her ankles, letting her feet dip into the river. One knee was pulled up slightly and on it she rested an elbow and then her head, leaning towards him without a thought for personal space. That's a shame. I wouldn't mind being stolen.

She laughed. Is that the name your mother gave you? It was true, Claire was not new to secrets and the name he gave was so plain it was clever. But why? She endeavored to find out. Call me, Persephone. This was a game she could play, too.

Syringa D'Angelo
Salsola
The Warden (NPC)
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Stormie
Luperci Mercante Mate to Weaver

POSTED: Mon Jun 20, 2016 12:22 am

:'D We can fade to early morn in your next post or mine?? (+400)

There was no tact to their eyes, both mismatched and icy blue. Each rarely met contact of the other, though when such a lock was achieved, there was an ever growing spark that hovered between. Instead, their gazes were rather occupied, his on the ever so intriguing way that her skirted garment fell in cascades around golden legs, and the twist in which chocolate-esque hair strewn itself, lank and rich around her predatory features. Yes, his original intent- to gain the favor of this comely ghost- was quickly fizzling. He no longer wanted her favor, her more just wanted to touch her. But Bayani was ever so careful, and he remained in his poised crouch, always the form of a well-practiced dancer, though no step had ever been achieved. "I should hope so." Was his only response, light voice notably thicker than in sentences previous.

She was careful, so well-practiced in each movement. Rarely did he fall to physicality so soon within the sights of a new face. Normally, a pleasant conversation would ensue first, and he would have a chance to twist his words into charm and ultimately decide on the possibility of getting laid. Or, he would split a bottle with a stray pretty face. But here, he need to do little. Primrose flashed briefly to the forefront of his mind, but his sister's form dissolved without much thought. One rabbit would have to do, he decided, as the stranger moved her languid form to press her vibrant eyes ever so close to his own. He smirked again, apparently vaguely distracted from the words now exchanged, but managed to inject a flirtatious phrase, which fell so easily from his tongue. "Plans are often foiled." He shot back. "And I am ever so inclined to take what does not belong to me should it be too beautiful to resist." The smirk did not fade.

"Far from it." He offered, freely revealing the lack of truth behind the identity. He had not expected her to believe him, even as he had said it. The siren gave him a name of her own, the falseness of it unavoidable but somehow welcome. He thought that he recognized the word. Perhaps it was from a story, something learned in younger, more innocent days. "Persephone," He rolled, and his ears fell back. "I do implore you to stop speaking." And then Bayani closed this distance, crushing his mouth against her own, all but stumbling from his once-perfected poise. He brought his dark hand, laced with scars of theft, to twist in her hair, the other to curve against her back and pull her close. Each movement was effortless, for despite his youth, he was gifted with size. He did not ask permission. He did not need it.

Bayani Grimm
Salsola
The Family (NPC)
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Ann
Luperci

POSTED: Wed Jun 22, 2016 2:59 pm

familia fortis elegit

Claire was not a witch, not a seer, and yet when she looked into his eyes- the briefest glimpse beneath her dark halo- she could see the future; lips against lips giving way to the deft flicks and a dance of tongues, the rustle of earth beneath her back as flesh pressed against flesh with such urgency, need. Claire didn't have to be a seer to see the future it was written in their eyes.

His voice was thick and affected as beauty sang her siren song. Tempting, teasing in the posture that she had assumed she didn't need to move. She knew the advance was coming. She was waiting. "Take me," her eyes whispered, begged, dared. "Possess me, Just for one night. I'm yours."

She merely smiled at his words, a slow, sensual smile. His plans might have changed, but this had been hers from the beginning. Ever since she saw him by the river bed.

She didn't need to be told. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do but give in. And she did.

He moved her easily, manipulated her body and tasted her mouth with force and passion. She melted beneath his touch, conformed to his will and surrendered.

*****

The water in her cupped hands glowed in the dawning light and she let it fall over her dark crowned head. Her clothing remained where it had fallen, her bow and quiver discarded somewhere. She'd find it --later.

She ran her fingers through her lank hair and walked out of the shallows and onto the bank, leaning over as she twisted the water out. Sleep well? She asked without looking. Pluie looked up from down the bank. Claire had retrieved the mare in the night, the grouse still tied to the saddle and hanging limply.

She lifted her head and her eyes came to rest on her Blue lover. She walked over to where he lay and fell down beside him cozying up to him damp-furred and clean smelling.

Syringa D'Angelo
Salsola
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Stormie
Luperci Mercante Mate to Weaver

POSTED: Thu Jun 23, 2016 3:15 am

-- (+400)

Bayani was not accustomed to being planned upon. The theft of his doing had always been decided beforehand and executed to perfection, with exact knowledge of what was to happen movement after movement. He loved to understand exactly what was to come, and have his plans unfold accordingly. What he told the unfamiliar with such intimacy was hardly a lie. He had not planned to steal; not her passions, upon first sight. But every mistake or uncertainty was a coin to his bank. He would not underestimate again, nor would he do the opposite. The enigma of this lady was new to him, something alluringly strange. Now that he had been gifted a hand in cracking it, however slight, his perception was deepened. The Grimm was young yet, but even despite his handsome youth, he was well-learned and still sought more. The dance of the wood and the playing tongues of those that resided within was his area of study, his complex test that he sought to ace. Persephone assisted him endlessly in such a feat. He did steal her. He felt no remorse, no hesitation, nothing except the arousal in his belly and pleasure of touch. A thief did not harbor guilt in the things that he took. It was something he was quickly coming to understand.

* * * *

His sliver of dark was dreamless and far from long enough. Eyes, mismatched in their rich browns and deep blues, opened with grace of slumber to a swaying of grass, both tall and crushed to provide the scents of sickly sweet. Gray dawn bathed the once-black waters of their small stream, dousing the scene in an unfamiliar glow. Blinking himself to wakefulness, collie-tall ears flicked with the gentle splashing of water to draw his eyes to the ever-so-familiarly curved back of Persephone, fur darker in its dampness. He noted the scribe of a strange arrow between the angles of her shoulder blades, curious that he had not noted the mark upon the removal of her camisole. He then realized he had been far to distracted to memorize much beyond her eyes and hips; in result, a smile was drawn from him. "Not much sleeping was done." He said, and welcomed her return to his side. The tall and youthful male set his nose gently against the dark of her own, blue and onyx-painted form absent of edges where it mingled against her gold and pale. Bayani lifted an arm to rest against the curve of her ribcage and watched icy eyes, careful in his next choice of words. "I have remained far too long. There is a charge I must return to." A brief loss colored his eyes, but it was superficial. He was aware and even welcomed the temporary distraction, though recognized that it could not be drawn out past what was allotted. Had it been not due to the dead-weight of his muscles, Bayani would have been vanished before first light.

Bayani Grimm
Salsola
The Family (NPC)
User avatar
Ann
Luperci

POSTED: Thu Jun 23, 2016 11:51 am

familia fortis elegit

A breathy laugh tumbled from her soft white muzzle and she nuzzled into the hollow of his wispy furred throat with a pleasant and contented hum. She did not sleep as others did and slept and woke just as often in a feral cycle. It could be dawn or dusk, the middle of the night, she slept whenever she pleased for as long as she pleased. But she was just as content to lay beside a someone whomever he might be. Today, that someone was Blue, a stranger in all but the physical for his body she knew so very well.

Claire didn't frown nor pout her lips, she didn't cling to an arm, a leg, or beg him to stay. All was as it should be, he couldn't stay, and neither could she.

Your sister? She asked though he hadn't mentioned. Claire was a she-wolf and Blue was too young for children. The scent on his body was similar and feminine, it was hardly a puzzle. She looked into his eyes, one brown one blue and she realized something. He was a wanderer without a home, young, strong, capable. To let him go his separate way...what a waste. There was more still to gain from him. She need only extend the invitation.

Blue, she asked softly, glancing down at her hand as it danced along his side then fixing him in her topaz blue gaze. What are you looking for? It was a question she thought she knew the answer to, yet she was in no hurry and she wasn't about to let him leave. Not yet.

Syringa D'Angelo
Salsola
The Warden (NPC)
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Stormie
Luperci Mercante Mate to Weaver

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