People will talk

Sirius Revlis · 06-17-2012, 12:17 PM

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Late afternoon, passing Isabella's den on the way to the coastline :3 >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

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.

He left his chamber with hesitation, but necessity. While the Revlis man was a severely overprotective new parent, he was also ferociously independent, and the desperate need for solitary time in which to gather his wayward thoughts had been clawing at his insides for days. The tranquil afternoon air was docile and fresh, and the monarch breathed it deep into his lungs with a contentment he had been unable to shake since the birth of his sons. His sons! Clover had given him heirs to the throne of Salsola, and the chemical changes within him had resulted in an out of character cheerfulness that had frightened the slaves and his subjects almost as much as his more common glower.

The man walked with the silent step of a hunter, but allowed his path to meander pleasantly throughout the Ruins, appreciating not for the first time the beauty of the lands he had chosen on which to build a kingdom. And a proud kingdom they were, now equipped with battle-scars. Salsola had defeated its first enemy - the first of what he assumed were more to come. It was the nature of this land, the nature of the beings that existed within it, to breed conflict. But his people, his hardy, cunning Northerners, had tasted victory, and he did not doubt that they would be able to do so again if the need rose.

A vague, old scent caught his attention, and the man's head swung in direction of it, tossing his dark locks about sharp toxic eyes. The scent belonged to a woman he knew well, a woman he knew intimately, and it occurred to the king that he had not checked up on Isabella since they had fought side by side to drive back the Boreas invaders. Of course, he knew she was well enough - Word would have traveled up the serpent's sly coils if not. While Sirius rarely interacted individually with the growing number of his subjects, he had eyes and ears all over this land, and more often than not knew of their current status without discussing it with them.

Still, in this rare amiable mood, it pleased the man to follow his dark nose, heading towards the dwelling of the female. "Isabella?" Came the rich, succulent purr of his voice, inviting and poisonous, "Are you home?"

Isabella Heiwa · 06-17-2012, 04:35 PM

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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."

Sirius Revlis · 06-27-2012, 11:36 AM

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You make ME squee! <3 >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

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.

She had donned sumptuous green and yellow fabric for the occasion, and as always, his narrow pupils roamed where they pleased, tracing pleasant paths along the curves exposed to him, and the curves hidden. Black lips twitched in that barely-there smile, but his acidic eyes sparked enough to show his pleasure. The air around the monarch seemed to hum with the glowing brilliance of his mood, and his people thrived on it; Some with equal glee, some with mounting terror, for a man so passionate in his foulest mood could be even more unpredictably dangerous in his merriest one.

Her expression was humble, but he sensed a warm arrogance to her, something fleeting and quickly hidden. Yellow teeth glittered at the woman in a fast, sharp smile, one which grew ravenous as she voiced her customary congratulations. "Sons," He rasped, delighted anew at the prospect of a thing, "An heir to the greatest kingdom crafted on this pile of dirt. I hope my people sing their joy at such a thing," And there was a flicker within his gaze, something reptilian and serpentine, something that was measuring her responses carefully. Even now, the king of liars would seek out falseness in those who followed him. Suspicion here was a way of life.

He stepped nearer to the doggish beauty, but did not touch her, not yet. His tall, lanky frame cast a neat shadow over her exotic features, and he smirked arrogantly, a peacock in full display. "Have you missed me, dear Isabella? I have been so busy, tending the mother of my blood," A soft chink was muted by the folds of his cloak as the man shifted his weight, concealing whatever prize was held within. Sirius knew the woman's tastes well enough, and the cold and beautiful thing stored within his secret pocket would suit her magnificently.

Isabella Heiwa · 06-29-2012, 05:37 PM

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369
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.

Sirius Revlis · 07-15-2012, 11:07 PM

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I suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

She was a master at her game, not a player, but a rule-maker. A deity on this board, a crafter and bender of laws and realities. The game she crafted was both mental and physical - A smile, a flutter of lashes, the stirring of air with delicate fingers in a harmless gesture. A thought that takes root in the base of the mind, and grows and grows until branches scrape at consciousness, and the foolish mortal is ensnared.

But Sirius, too, was a god in this realm of dangerous play. He had resided on a throne crafted of words and lies for long enough to know when the game was being played, and which moves to make to ensure that weeds did not overthrow the garden of his consciousness. There would always be moments of weakness - One could not hope to have total dominion over one's own ingenuity. But his narrowed pupils observed keenly as Isabella thread her spider web strings about him, and for now, he allowed himself to be caught.

Her words were soft poetic, infinitely pleasing, and were rewarded with a hungry Cheshire smile and a rumbling purr deep within his chest. She was clever enough to know which strings to pluck to make her monarch sing. Delicate fingers brushed his cloak, and the muscles beneath it instinctively tensed as a warm rush of carnal images sped beneath his eyelids. "It is good to know that you entertain thoughts of your King and Lord, even in my absence. Such loyalty is... Most desirable," And not cheaply bought, he reflected, feeling again the cold metal weight within his pocket.

Her gentle question provoked a mild expression of civility, sharp yellow teeth sheathed for the time being. "You can invite me into your home, fix me something warm to drink," He said candidly, black lips twitched upwards at their corners.

Isabella Heiwa · 07-16-2012, 02:04 AM

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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."

Sirius Revlis · 07-16-2012, 04:35 AM

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SPICED WINE, WHAT ARE YOU >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

She gave him a mild, unreadable look, one which Sirius returned with a false calmness. Beneath his skin and flesh, his blood sizzled.

Acquiescing to her gesture, the tall monarch ducked his head and followed the dame into her den. A grand room opened before him, and he was struck a-new at its furnishings, its civility. Isabella's home was a small slice of London, and he breathed in the sultry scents with a peculiar pang of longing for the gentry he had left behind for this rugged wilderness.

Following proper etiquette, he remained standing until she flourished at a seat, her soft, sensual voice accompanying the gesture in a dainty offer. Black lips twitched, but the man did as she bid, moving to sit on the cushioned surface. "That would be lovely," He murmured gently, eyes still roving the interior of the room with an unabashed curiosity. Everything reflected little aspects of the woman - Unlike his still-barren chamber, now a womb for the pile of furs that served as a nest for his sons and their beautiful mother.

The fragrance of the wine began to warm his nose, and Sirius settled himself comfortably, crossing his ankles beneath the polished surface of the table, and resting his interlaced cream fingers atop it. Her question provoked a slow smile, sharp yellow daggers glittering alongside the King's luminous eyes. "They are in good health, la mia signora... Reaping the luxuries that I can offer them. Such is the way with princelings - They've yet to come of an age where they can understand the joys and responsibilities that await them," His caramel voice was pensive, faraway. His attention was drawn back by the sliding of clay on wood, and one cream hand moved to cup the neat bowl-mug that was given.

Her mention of glass was met with a seeking look, and although he offered no opinion on the matter, a mental note of it was stored away. Narrowed pupils did not miss the shifting of her body, and he made no move to hide the roving appreciation of his gaze. There was a wordless agreement between them on this matter - It did not cost to look upon her, and his sight, being the sight of the kingdom, was not often denied such a thing. "That I do. The oldest son is precious indeed - He will inherit our little world," A wry smile enhanced these words, and he paused to take a sip of the warm spiced liquid, enjoying the way it slid down his throat. "I will have to train him hard, of course; Soft men do not make good kings. But that is the way of it. They are both born of the North, and have the North in them." He said nothing of Clover, choosing not to share his plans for the golden-haired damsel. This was not overly due to any pressing reason; More the fact that, of yet, he was as unsure of his plans as Isabella. While Clover was perfect for bearing his children, with her purity and her blue blood, he did not know love as she did. It was a strange situation indeed.

Another slow sip was given, and he felt the warmth spread through his stomach and veins. "Delicious," Came the teasing purr, eyes glancing once more at her voluptuous form.

Isabella Heiwa · 07-16-2012, 06:42 PM

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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.

Sirius Revlis · 07-23-2012, 07:30 PM

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WHIIIIINE >> Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

Her laugh stirred tendrils of fire within him, a metal rode coaxing glowing embers to spit and spark. Yellow teeth flashed in an immediate response, the grin as feral as it was handsome. He had been a generous sire thus far, indeed, reaping the bounty of his kingdom and thrusting it onto the three who dwelled within his chambers. What was the point of wearing such a thorny crown if one could not wield it to benefit one's own spawn? He had no reservations about the misuse of his own wicked power. This was how it had been in the old days; Ranks were earned through fang and tongue and blood, and held with the superiority of birth. His eldest would be a king one day, regardless of his ability to rule - It was Sirius' job to instill such ability within him.

She was an enigma to him, curious in the way she watched with those strange bi-colored eyes, the glint of green and gold within soft, deep turquoise. Her thoughts, beyond, were unreadable, closed off to him by the mask she wore so well. This was impressive, if not challenging, to the man who prided himself on his ability to read others. Still, they danced this dance with one another, this manipulative game that had no winners, only temporary victors.

Her delicate words were sharp with a meaning that he could not quite grasp, a language his male ears could not fully interpret. There was little worry within him for a feminist uprising - He was King, and although not sexist in the crudest meaning of the word, Sirius did exist within a mental state of patriarchal rule. No woman could be King. "Indeed, not in an eldest son. But perhaps in a woman, softness is more valuable," His candid words were accompanied by a searing glance of acidic eyes, moving over her delicious contours and curves, roving freely as the desire within his belly grew. She knew just what to say to please him, to stroke his ego and preen his peacock feathers, and although he was full aware of this skilled manipulation, he allowed it, enjoying the feeling of being so enthralled. She leaned closer, and her scent curled about his dark nose, pupils narrowing to needles amongst the acid as the soft globes of her breasts were slightly flattened to the cool, varnished surface.

Her question was met with a quirk of black lips, but not answered. "I have brought something for you. Gifts," This time, he did not smile, but his heated gaze was keen and oozing the wealth of his purchases. Clawed hands left the warm clay mug, disappearing within the folds of his thick cloak, where the chinking sounds grew silent in his palm. He placed two items on the smooth wooden table-top, gently, gaze watching her all the while. The first was a small bottle, blown from glass in a splendid ruby hue. It was multifaceted, each sharp surface glinting harshly, reflecting ripples from the light gold liquid within - pure Rose Otto, shipped from the ports of Egypt. The stopper of the bottle was made from gold, tarnished by the years, but still lovely. A long black leather thong was looped about it, indicating the small bottle was to be worn as a pendant.

The second item rolled slightly towards Isabella before stopping. It was a ring, much older in appearance than the bottle, much older indeed than any jewelry that the Revlis man had ever possessed. The heavy-cut ruby glinted balefully from its setting, an ominous, bloody eye that gazed out at the world.

Isabella Heiwa · 07-25-2012, 05:08 PM

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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?"

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