[M] I'm that bad type, make your mama sad type

Andrew

POSTED: Tue Jul 16, 2019 7:59 pm

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.




(000)

backdated to the day when the thing happened

Amongst the gently cradled Ruins, a new construction came to stand taller with each passing day now. The building exceeded her expectations of its largeness, but then she was less knowledgeable upon the specifics of architecture. Corrine's voice slid over and under and rolled from her without much notice, Helena waved away the quiescent woman, letting her return to her myriad duties.

The entirety of it, excepting the roof, was coated in a white substance Andrew had called 'tabby' and made from oyster shells -- she had listened vivaciously to his explanations of the process. For long moments Helena simply gazed at the outer configuration, lost in the amazement of luperci hands building such a thing. The various stages of raising had not looked so grand, but now, almost completed, it took her breath away. Color her impressed.

A singular flaw stuck out, that of the blinding white of that same material covering it. It would need to be painted, or obscured as it drew too much the eye to it, especially comparing to the grey-stone dwellings surrounding it.

Helena strode into the entrance way as if she belonged there, in this place, and nothing could shift her. Hard, compacted earth expanded before her feet. It was utilitarian and sparse of decoration. But this was a place for warriors, not for beauty. Eagerly, she consumed views of solid handiwork, and slowly pursued this main entry.

Spurring her clothing with the heat of summer, the bare woman followed her ears to a singular shuffling, in this room to the right. A moment to watch his work, and the lady set herself to lean against the doorway.

"Ees zhere being no such rest for zhe 'umble Quartermaster. Must I be running about, 'ere and zhere, always fires to be extinguishing, mon poor feet." She interrupted his work, a coy smile settling onto her face, jesting with a hand to her forehead as if she would faint from the stress.

Laughter, low and sultry, floated. Helena followed it forwards, to stand by him.

"You asked for me, Warden?" Though from his attentions, she could already guess the nature of the request. Not that she was complaining, any chance to interact with him lacking the attentions of their tiresome spouses breathing down their necks.

The newest title was strange, and for him it would be such a lovely surprise spoken from her lips.

Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Wed Jul 17, 2019 9:41 pm

The me that you know
Is now made up of wires

Andrew grabbed the first servant the crossed his path, Corrine, and slipped her a particularly important message written in his signature chicken-scratch scrawl. A summons, penned in charcoal upon a small slip of parchment. Should the charcoal smudge it was no matter. The intent was clear: meet me. It was a strange feeling that fell upon the former servant then, for it was the first summons of its kind directed at one who's lofty status exceeded his own, however things were quickly changing for Andrew within the Thistle Kingdom.

The barracks had raised Andrew to heights previously unknown. The shadow of his service no longer lingered over him. Yet, the loyalty he bore to his former master remained. Despite his meteoric rise in social standing, little had changed. Andrew was still hers. His heart was still the quartermaster's slave.

He'd quartered off a room for wartime provisions -- this would be her domain. Tall wooden shelves lined the walls, waiting to be filled with the quartermaster's goods.

Andrew was in the process of setting a shelf when the quartermaster arrived. In the heart of the barracks, concealed from sight, Andrew worried not what the others might find. He could be real. He could be himself and fall into the comfort of her good humor. He allowed himself to smile, which had become a rare and fleeting thing since his betrothal to Narcissa.

"Warden?" Andrew replied with an air of surprise. He had not yet known of his promotion into the inner ring. A once slave, he could now call himself a noble. He let his voice fall quite in mock disbelief. "You're shitting me Quartermaster," he prodded in jest, a coy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Proctor
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Thu Jul 18, 2019 1:12 am



(000)

backdated to the day when the thing happened

For her, he turned from serious and focused to jovial in instants. A curling smile upon his face, and oh, how she enjoyed that. A Mistress spoke and her Servant answered.

The twist of his lips, and how she called forth a relaxation of himself, the shaded mask he wore fading away, as did her own outer ones. There were few within this Kingdom that could share her humors truly.

She reached forwards, brushing back the rebellious lock of hair that sought escape from the whole of his tied assembly. Her hand lingered long past what could be considered propitious. He was hers still, the slave beneath her hands, the Called that she beckoned with only a glance, only a word.

"Zuch spurious accusations, Warden. Eet es poor form to zpeak zuch.. filth." The cast of her eyebrows quirked highly, daring him. Her hand moved, gentle tap against his cheek, a facsimile ridicule of the Salsolan tradition to silence those embarrassing themselves. There her fingers idled for a short time, before falling to fold with its partner across her bereft chest.

"I am only speaking zhe truth. Always. Non lies 'ere." A billow of mocking laughter fumed, how she made fools of them all, flaunting their Law and their Rules. She was above it all.

"What need 'ave you zhen, of monself." There was something wicked in the way she spoke, something that hinted and implicated. "What can zhe Thistle Kingdom provide." Her arms unfolded and spread out, offering whatever she had at her disposal as Salsola's storage manager and head merchant.

Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Mon Jul 22, 2019 8:09 pm

The me that you know
Is now made up of wires

Filth.

Andrew's mind was askew with it. Tainted with impure thoughts that twisted and turned in the darkest reaches of the coywolf's head. Oh what things they could do with relative impunity under the protective cover of the barracks. No one would see them. No one would hear them. Not Narcissa, nor the crown. He could lay his hand upon her bare body without fear of consequence.

Surely she must have known. She was a tease to appear like this; bereft of the garments the hid her womanly form under fine and elegant fabric. He could not tear his eyes away -- not from the pert curve of her breast. Had she done this to toy with him so? What thoughts had she hoped to spur. Not those of business, Andrew was nearly certain.

A hand reached to graze his face, and the skin beneath her touch was set aflame.

An implication lingered and Andrew ran with it. "What need do I have?" Andrew asked, tasting her question on his tongue. He stepped closer and drew her in by the hip. "How do you know we have business to attend to?" A hand ran along the curves of her body and came to rest upon Helena's breast.

"They'd never see us," Andrew goaded, leaning close to whisper in his lover's ear. The provisions for which he'd called her were far from his mind.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Proctor
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Mon Jul 22, 2019 10:20 pm

000 ooc
I wear this crown of thorns

For once her actions were not born of the desire to stoke him into the fires of lust. Though this was only a side bonus. To watch the green of his gaze consume themselves for her.

It was intoxicating.

His eyes lingered, spreading goosebumps in their wake, and Helena exhaled, laughing huskily.

"André, mon eyes are up here." Her finger, gladly trailing, caught the underside of his muzzle to raise him so that he looked upon her face instead.

What thoughts? What thoughts indeed.

"Oui." She breathed, leaning closer, "What need 'ave you."

She could have him here -- on the floor or on the table, and dominate his pleasure. Her fingers closed in his hair, and for seconds between them the tension soared, twisting and twining.

He was whispering in her ear and the silken audit turned, to catch his heady, insolent words.

"So bold..." Her arm snaked about his waist, jerking him to her so their hips ground together; the slide of her tongue up the arch of his throat brought to her the pulsing of his beat.

As much as she was tempted, there was work to do.

Reluctantly she let go, and stepped from within his embrace. Wistful, her hand was last to leave his hair,

"Not today." How she looked at him though, as if she would flay the very flesh from his bones with her claws. Maybe someday, lingered there between them however.

"What provisions do you need 'ere, zho?" How she could change, twisting on a dime -- control was harder to grasp the more she allowed him to sway her.

What have I become, my sweetest friend
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Wed Aug 21, 2019 10:00 pm

The me that you know
Is now made up of wires

Though she prompted him to divert his attention away with her words, her body told yet another story; one of passion and fervor. She melted beneath the sweet caress of rough and calloused hands. Workman's hands that had wrought all that stood around them. No one would see their transgressions behind the stone walls of the barracks, and the promise of privacy made Andrew bold.

For a moment, they were only animals. Slaves to their bodies desires, they danced, satiating their undernourished egos with the play of their hips. For a moment, Andrew truly believed he would have what he wanted -- and that he would take her here inside his own creation until the scent of their intimacy could never be purged from the building without great effort. A fantasy, so close to reality.

However, cooler heads won out, if only for the unspoken promise of another time.

She pulled away and Andrew straightened himself, fixing his robe that now hung askew. He cleared his throat and fought the fog of arousal away. There was business to attend to. "Siege provisions," he answered, "Salted meats, water, herbs and medical supplies if Salsola's stores can muster it." He thought then for a moment. Such things were particularly Spartan. The bare minimum. "Perhaps some comforts as well. Bedding -- furs, blankets."

After all, there was nothing the Quartermaster couldn't acquire.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Proctor
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Mon Sep 23, 2019 2:03 pm

000
To find them a fortune, chests filled with gold

It simmered below the surface, denied but never contained, not for long. They both risked every second of their toil and sweat in coming to their respective stations each time she let him touch her, let him kiss her.

The off-kilter balance of their tempestuous relationship forever held her in control.

And did she abuse it, oh did she abuse.

Entirely too much of her restraint did it take to not simply demand, and damn the consequences.

She remained aware, caught within the state of excitement, and twitched with amusement for the hoarseness in his voice. Inwardly it was much more difficult to settle upon the tiresome task of stocking this place for war. Helena did not wish to remember the war, and the fire, the insecure nature of her own feelings at the time.

"Zhis we 'ave, food and furs, zhere is not being any trouble. Linen for bandages zho.." Their supply was falling dangerously low, and sometimes was a pain to source if there were none for sale. Helena rubbed at her temple briefly, exasperation coloring her face.

"I will ave to go to zhe Outpost again, I zhink... zometimes zoon." Prices, availability, all fluctuated as the seasons turned, as new contacts were made and old ones died or became unreliable. None were as interesting as the way his neck moved as he swallowed, and she stared unabashedly at the arch of his throat.

A trip to the Outpost meant unrestricted time alone, her claws dug into the wood of her paper-rest. Duties though, might strive to keep them apart, and she could not invite too much suspicion onto their activities.

Contemplative, her fingers idly ran along the table, gleaming dark walnut gliding beneath her touch. A hop, a little wiggle and her rear was sliding into place upon the masterwork he had created. Helena crossed her legs, and she was settling in to watch him sweat, just a little.

"Did zhe Director require anything, specifically?" Having worked closer with the Valentine upon this project, he may be privy to information that had yet to be passed along to herself.

I can't help this awful energy
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Sun Nov 10, 2019 8:09 pm

The me that you know
Is now made up of wires

A trip to the outpost; something so seemingly innocuous carried such a torrid insinuation. Andrew knew it well. The promise of a moment alone, a moment to breathe -- a moment to take solace in the comfort of each other's bodies. He'd known no greater pleasure. A brow was quirked, a knowing smirk, his imagination did the rest.

"Aye Quartermaster," Andrew affirmed. "I do believe a resupply is imminent." His voice was laden with suggestion. The deniability of subtlety was thrown out the window in private moments such as these, yet he still held his head high and kept a faux air of business haughtiness. Surely, one as tested as she would see through the thin veneer of Andrew's charade. "Shall I accompany you then?"

She took great pride in watching him squirm. She moved with the elegance of a snake, coiled and ready to strike.

Questions were raised, and he had answers. "I must be honest," Andrew explained, "my correspondence with the Director has been fairly limited beyond planning and construction." Communication could often be a tricky thing. "But --" His voice tapered off with a pregnant pause.

"--I would assume the Shield would need armaments as well. Perhaps more than Salsola's current stores can provide, no?" Came his suggestion. Arms were in no short supply with the traders of Amherst. Acquiring them would be no problem.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Proctor
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

Salsola