People will talk - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: People will talk (/showthread.php?tid=28687) |
- Sirius Revlis - 06-17-2012 [html]
The heavy pelt hung sat about his shoulders and dropped down, like a pair of dark wings furled at his back. The weather was not truly cold enough for the bearhide cloak, but Sirius had donned it anyway, expecting the eventual nightfall and the salty winds of the coast to bring with them the bite of the northern cold. Temperature here was as fickle and unpredictable as the land itself, and while they had been relishing the current mild warmth, Sirius knew that the weather could turn into a snapping beast on any whim.
#siriusal1 { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #siriusal1 p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #siriusal1 p.alImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #siriusal1 .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #siriusal1 .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #siriusal1 b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #siriusal1 u { text-decoration: underline; } #siriusal1 b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Isabella Heiwa - 06-17-2012 [html] 387
i had a squeeee The smoke wafted through the air, drifting aimlessly upward to the edges of the tarp roof where it could escape. Incense burned gently in its wedged container, the stick halfway gone. Legs crossed over each other, the woman sat with her eyes shut. The smell of the grey smoke was heavy about her, smelling of some deep musky wood with a small hint vanilla. It had cost her a swath of silks but it was worth dwindling her stock of silk for this. The scent swirled around her and she inhaled, letting it sit in her lungs like a sweet drug. Her mind was clear, and her thoughts flowed much like the curling tendrils of the grey incense. She had spent the entire morning this way, sitting still for so many hours in careful thought. Things had been changing lately. Spring was the season of birth and rebirth. Summer was the season of the fruiting, but lately it felt as though spring continued on with its little miracles. One of the King's many women finally gave him a child. The pack was in an uproar about it, and the King was in a happy mood. Of course he would be happy; he finally had his own get to raise and corrupt and nurture. But Isabella was not worried for her state. Happy in his fatherhood, Sirius was not the type of man to stay to a woman just because she had dammed his offspring. It was a matter of time before he looked for a moment of change. Her eyes peeled open gently, the clarity still keeping her mind open. His husky voice rang out in good cheer outside of her little home. It was calling for her, and his tone was terribly seductive. The King had requested her company, and he sought her out. Isabella let her lips curl into a smug smile that she kept as she emerged from the back room, letting her arms gently hug her curves as she crossed her arms. The smugness fell of her face as she emerged from the central room. The green and yellow skirt that hung from her hips swished with her movements. "My Lord. I am indeed home," she replied curtly, cocking her head slightly at her King. "Congratulations. I heard about your joyous news." .isa-txt {font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height:17px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 75px 0px 75px; margin:5px auto; text-align:justify;} .isa-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .isa-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px;} .isa-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .isa-txt .line {width:450px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 06-27-2012 [html]
The scent of her teased him, curled within his lungs like a dense mist rolling in from the ocean. It was not the luring, familiar smell of salt and spray, but the fragrance of pure femininity, the alluring wafts of luxury and seduction. There was no mistaking such a scent, not after he had breathed it all the way in, and felt it sizzle within his blood. His good mood heightened, and rose further still when the woman herself appeared, promptly answering his beckoning purr.
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I AM SITTING WAITING FOR YOUR PM KNOWING YOU HAVEN'T READ MINE YET Isabella bobbed her head at his words, pride in his sons warm in his voice. It had clearly filled him with smug pride to know that he had children, fruit of his loins, to come after him. It was a pity he had no daughters to learn the ways of true power, but that was what time was for. Perhaps he would find himself father of a daughter someday soon. After all, such a powerful man would make a gloriously dangerous girl. Oh, what a creature she would be with the blood of the Thistle king. He would be no danger to her and she would be the true danger to all. She gave the man a smile filled with true happiness for him, knowing that Sirius in a happy mood was a good thing. He might be open handed with gifts and favors. "It is a truly wondrous thing that she has accomplished." Sirius approached her, though he did not touch her. He knew better, even though he could easily take what he wanted. She was not as easy to have as the mother of his sons, whom she had seen with doe eyes at the King at Suppers. Regardless, his arrogance was like an aphrodisiac to the woman, his confidence building her desire. But her head kept her calm and clear, as she knew what she wanted and what she was. She was stronger. She was always stronger. At the King's words, the gypsy woman raised her chin just a bit and turned to the side, so she may look at the man from a single stormy eye. "It is hard to miss my King when his presence is everywhere. Your joy can be tasted in the air." Breathing gentle, the woman could hardly miss the clinking beneath his cloak. Delicately, Isabella pulled on the cloak. It was only enough to move a couple of strands, nothing more. "But to see and sense is not the same as your presence here, my King. Yet, how can I fault you for paying attention to the mother of your brood?" Surely, she could not compare. "What can I do for you?" she asked, cooing in a humble tone. .isa-txt {font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height:17px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 75px 0px 75px; margin:5px auto; text-align:justify;} .isa-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .isa-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px;} .isa-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .isa-txt .line {width:450px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 07-15-2012 [html]
#siriusal1 { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #siriusal1 p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #siriusal1 p.alImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #siriusal1 .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #siriusal1 .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #siriusal1 b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #siriusal1 u { text-decoration: underline; } #siriusal1 b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Isabella Heiwa - 07-16-2012 [html] 455
YOU HURT ME. HURT ME IN THE BOOB. YOU BOOB. His words were easy to interpret. Isabella's smile was thin, though it was directed to the man. She knew how he must have felt to know to have a woman such as her at his disposal. And she knew she was not a cheap creature, but she could hardly lower her prices for the man. Perhaps she ought to give him some complimentary appearances, simply as a thanks, but that would show weakness. No, she would be firm. After all, two seasoned players in a game such as this could not flinch. She would not be the weak one here, and she would not lose face before the man. Anything else would be misconstrued; perhaps he would think she had feelings for him or perhaps actually cared about him like men and women had a habit of doing. No, her affection for the man was for her King, Master, and Client. Anything else would be irresponsible and she knew better, and learned her lessons well from a young age. Isabella bobbed her head slightly to her Thistle King, smoothly turning about to return to the parlor. She had some cushioned stone benches around a stone and wood table. She gestured to Sirius to take one of the seats, especially since they were good quality. The table had been recently cleaned and polished with light wax. "Please, take a seat, my lord. Spiced wine is satisfactory?" she asked, pouring red wine into the cast iron pot and set it on the fire. She had set up a rack to keep the pot on and it worked beautifully. Isabella stared at the warming liquid and knew she had to add some of her precious spices. They were all that remained from her stash from Toronto. They had been expensive to trade for and she knew that her small pouches were all she could get; they were a far south plant she could hardly grow here. She pulled out the pouches from a hidden wall hole. A pinch of nutmeg and some cinnamon were pulled out and dropped them into the pot. "How are your sons, my lord?" she asked, eyes carefully on the pot of wine. Once it had started to steam, she poured the man some wine, careful to keep the water from pouring too fast. She leaned beside him, nudging the clay work mug to the man. It was a fairly large one, fit for large canine hands. "I'm sorry I have no glass work but that is rather hard to come by." Isabella languisely set her curves opposite the man, on the cushioned chair. "You must have grand plans for your two sons. And for their mother, for her gift to you." .isa-txt {font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height:17px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 75px 0px 75px; margin:5px auto; text-align:justify;} .isa-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .isa-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px;} .isa-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .isa-txt .line {width:450px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 07-16-2012 [html]
#siriusal1 { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #siriusal1 p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #siriusal1 p.alImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #siriusal1 .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #siriusal1 .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #siriusal1 b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #siriusal1 u { text-decoration: underline; } #siriusal1 b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Isabella Heiwa - 07-16-2012 [html] 502
SPICED WIIIIINE. Isabella let a ringing laugh echo off her stone walls. "For certain they'll one day understand what fate has blessed them with. You will be a generous father, I'm sure," she purred, eyes cast to the wall behind where her den was. Hidden in the wall were the gifts Sirius had given her already, even if gifts was the wrong term for her payments. The word sat on the tongue more easily than payment, as though she were some milking cow with goods for sale from the teat. Isabella eyed the King, wondering what his spawn looked like. She only vaguely remembered what the Lykoi woman looked like, and her coloration was fuzzy in her mind. But any get of the Thistle King had to have some kind of raw beauty about them. Perhaps it was far too early to see anything, she figured, with pups so young and fresh from the mother's womb. His look was ignored, and she met it with a blank one. She was not asking for gifts of glass, as it was not something she needed. The earthenware jugs, mugs, and cups were perfectly fine for her, as it kept her rooted to the mother's soil, especially when she drank of her bounty. Glass might be perfect for fancy to-dos but this was no such thing. A Last Supper was a crude family meal with closeness the goal, not high society. Her head cocked to the side as she listened to him, keeping her eyes interested though she felt the snakes of jealousy writhe in her belly. The Lykoi women got what she had so far not obtained. When she had desired a child from this man, she did not know but she felt the pangs of motherhood calling to her. And she knew that any children of hers would be beautiful creatures. It was not for love of the man, no. He was a man not for loving, but for fear, respect, and mutual benefit. What a creature they could create, especially if it was blessed with the female gender. A dangerous beauty. "Softness can be a blessing, my lord. Though not in an eldest son," she acquiesced slowly, not willing to admit her desire to keep the men low. Any son of hers would know his place among the women, and his subservience to them would do them an honor. "I'm sure you will create an heir worthy of your Kingdom, especially as it grows steady on. Like a garden in bloom," she said with a coy smile, looking from him to his cup of warm wine. He kept his eyes on her as he drank it, and she leaned forward, letting her chest press at the the top of the table as she eyed him. "The spices are uncommon, but I think they add a little something.. special. Do you not agree?" she said delicately, draping her fingers close to his arm, careful not to touch him directly. .isa-txt {font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height:17px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 75px 0px 75px; margin:5px auto; text-align:justify;} .isa-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .isa-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px;} .isa-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .isa-txt .line {width:450px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 07-23-2012 [html]
#siriusal1 { font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, geneva, sans-serif; font-size:13px; width:95%; margin:0px auto; line-height:18px; } #siriusal1 p { text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0; } #siriusal1 p.alImage { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-size:11px; font-style:italic; float:left; margin:5px; } #siriusal1 .txtooc { text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:georgia, serif text-transform:none; line-height:16px; font-weight:normal; } #siriusal1 .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;} #siriusal1 b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; } #siriusal1 u { text-decoration: underline; } #siriusal1 b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; } #siriusal1 b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; } </style>[/html] - Isabella Heiwa - 07-25-2012 [html] 566
bleh muse is like a poop lately Isabella gave a tinkling laugh as she averted her gaze ever so slightly to hide her terrible amusement. The man dared to think that softness was a desirable trait for a woman? Perhaps for her flesh, but Isabella did not know a single woman soft of the mind. Perhaps she only associated with those of a strong caliber, but she did not know what kind of women this man was used to seeing. His broodmare was probably soft, for she had seen the love in her eyes when she peered at Sirius at the Suppers. Whatever he saw in her was probably beyond her to understand, for she did not understand the blood running through them was of a 'royal' caliber. It was more comical to her to breed based on blood than it was on compatibility and characteristics. How jaded, but she knew that a combination of intellectuals was going to be superior to two idiots of royal blood humping one another. Her eyes caught his roaming and she let him the drink in the contour of her flesh. Softness, he said? Well her curves were soft and supple, yet taut in the correct places while she was still a young woman. She titled her shoulders to allow him a better sight of the broad curve of her chest, feigning ignorance to his hungry, roving eyes. She knew what was going to happen. It was their little game of cat and mouse, and it was often hard to know who was the winner until the end of their encounter. In the end, she knew they would be on even ground and the game would begin again. They were equals and that was fine with her. She enjoyed a challenging war against a man with charisma and strength. The King of Thistles and Lies pulled trinkets from his cloak as though he were dispensing words. Long, delicate fingers reached for the bottle and thong he put on the table, carefully pulling it to herself. Holding it up, her eyes peered through the red glass as the sun shone through it. It was filled with liquid and it made the woman pause. Her eyes carefully watched the man as she popped open the bottle and sniffed the aroma. "Rose oil?" she asked, her brows rising as she identified the liquid with an experts ease. But this was a much higher grade than she was used to and it was better than she had the equipment to make. "What an expensive gift, my lord," she said in surprise as she stoppered the bottle and her eye caught the ring rolling toward her. The ring stopped rolling and she picked it up after she set down the bottle carefully. It was warm from his flesh and she rolled it between her fingers as the light glanced off the gem and the band. His fingers had clearly been warm as she slipped it on one of her much thinner fingers. It fit snug on her middle finger and she stared at it on outstretched fingers. "These are expensive gifts, my King. I am not sure I have enough to offer in return." She had her body but even that seemed almost poor compensation. Her body would suffice, especially if he had a hungry appetite that she felt she could match. "What is it my liege wants from a humble servant?" .isa-txt {font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height:17px; letter-spacing:.5px; word-spacing:1px; margin:0px 25px auto; padding:0px 75px 0px 75px; margin:5px auto; text-align:justify;} .isa-txt .ooc {font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto; width:500px;} .isa-txt p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px;} .isa-txt b {letter-spacing:1px; letter-spacing:-.05em;text-shadow:#fff 0px 0px 1px;font-family:verdana, garamond, serif; font-size:12px;} .isa-txt .line {width:450px; border-bottom:1px dashed #000; margin:0 auto;} </style> [/html] |