Deception is the game

Isabella Heiwa · 07-12-2012, 11:38 PM

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Word Count :: 388ouch, what's a poor whore to do? :C

She knew she had a fifty-fifty shot with this man, and the odds were probably a lot worse for her than they were for him. And when he lifted her muzzle away from him with a coldness that sparked a familiar flame, she found that she had lost this match. Cold, harsh men were the kind who know what to do with a woman as precocious as her and she felt at a loss with a man as gentle as she assumed Vasiliy was. Gentle touches did not light a fire for her as a man with a stiff hand and a domineering personality. She often times felt small pangs of guilt for the men with a calm, gentle personality; it was far too easy to take advantage and manipulate a man who had a one track mind and a self absorbed attitude.

Isabella almost felt bad for him, for the struggle he was surely having in his head. His words came broken, uncertain and she knew that she was not walking away victoriously from this. The coldness in his voice had given that away. It was time to bow out from this dangerous game with her dignity and secrecy intact. Vasiliy seemed confused, though he, too, seemed to wonder what she was. Perhaps it was better he did not know what she was, for it would make trading in the future that much easier. Him knowing what she was and what she did for her possessions would only mean sour glances and cold words. And it was better to win with a man who doled out sugar instead of salt.

Delicate white hands shot up to touch her lips in surprise. "O-Oh!" she stuttered, her true self sniggering in the back of her mind. "No, I.. oh, mon Dieu..," she trailed off, looking away from the man with a modesty she had not held true in a long time. She looked back at the merchant with a sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry if it sounded like.. oh, I'm sorry." Isabella disliked this part of herself, the lying innocent woman. Perhaps Salsola was truly the place for her. ".. Just do what, monsieur Vasiliy?" she said, peering up at the Russo, curiosity replacing the sadness in her eyes. Perhaps she had salvaged the situation

Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

Vasiliy Russo · 07-13-2012, 02:03 AM

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(--) aaaahahahaha aaaawkwaaaaard forever omg loled IRL

Vasiliy is by Raze!

Confusion and hurt crossed his face and her surprise, and he lifted one hand to scratch at the back of his head, bright blue eyes flickering toward the ground. His tail drooped, and he smiled feebly, shrugging broad shoulders. No, nothing, he said, quickly, rolling both shoulders. His muzzle pointed toward the ground, and he couldn't meet her eyes for a long moment, pretty as they were. Nevermind, it's okay, he added, shaking his head. I am sorry, he said, still not certain just what she was. It was intriguing, but alarms were ringing in his head and Vasi could not ignore them.

Sweeping eyes over her once more as if in mourning for what might have been, he looked upon her face again and smiled, albeit a more weary one than he'd worn previously. You are make good trade, he said, willing to sweep past their mishap quickly and without further dwelling. If want more chicken, or horse, or anything -- come back and see Vasiliy, he said, putting hands on his hips. They felt awkward and wrong there, so he dropped them to his sides; again, their strangeness bothered him, so he crossed them over his chest, still smiling at her, though perhaps with less enthusiasm than before.

Isabella Heiwa · 07-13-2012, 08:58 PM

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Word Count :: 305awwwkwaaaaaaaaaaard Big Grin

also, I'm really tired so it's terrible

Vasiliy pulled away from her in the way that she knew he would. She had put him off, though it had failed to salvage the situation. He did not try to get her in the way she figured he might have, though she had put him off. A different man might have attempted more, but Isabella understood him pulling away. She had seemed innocent and confused, and whatever it had done, it had stopped it. She smiled tentatively at him, knowing that she could not bring back the previous moment. And in all honesty she did not think she should. Perhaps another attempt might come around in the future but for now it was not meant to be.

The subject changed and the woman recoiled back into herself, returning to the mare to make sure that the chickens were still calm. Isabella patted the mare's neck, happy that the trade had gone through. She was a little disappointed that Vasiliy was not the type of man to be swayed by her wiles. Hopefully, he would buy her act and be none the wiser. But she was afraid that he saw through her, so she simply acted as though she was what she pretended to be. "Yes, thank you," she said, keeping up the pretense of being flustered, avoiding the other man's gaze in an attempt of modesty. "I will be sure to let everyone know where to get good trades and good wares," Isabella said, deftly mounting her mare with a care to the chickens. They made their noises and the hen attempted a peck but gave up when the woman's leg proved to far. "If I may, I would not mind visiting your pack, if I have more to trade in the future of course," added the woman quickly, smiling meekly.

Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

Vasiliy Russo · 07-14-2012, 03:16 AM

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(--)

Vasiliy is by Raze!

Vasi realized he knew little about the woman: she had not given her name, and there was no recognizable pack scent about her. Vasi thought it best not to press on such matters, however -- if she had wanted him to know, she'd have told him. The stranger with her sharp, strange eyes and innocence did not seem to be the sort to miss much, despite their mishap. He smiled meekly and nodded, bobbing his head up and down. Recommend is good, he said. Thank you.

With the talk of his pack, the Russian's smile returned, though not so sunny as it had once been. Aye, he said. We are south, past old city and in great forest. These were as good a set of directions as the woman was likely to get from Vasi. Cercatori d'Arte, he added. Big tree, tall -- name written right on trunk. You cannot miss. He looked up at her on horseback, and nodded, stepping back a few paces awkwardly, as if he did not know how to end their interaction.

Thanks, miss, he said, deciding impulsively on this pair of words. They were lame and he knew it as soon as they'd left his mouth, but it was better than leaving off elsewise.

Isabella Heiwa · 07-14-2012, 04:59 PM

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Word Count :: 224

Isabella nodded at his description of his home. She did doubt that she would come visit, though the prospect of future trade was something that she may take upon herself. But it would not do to let on where she was from, especially since she was sure that the higher ups in Salsola would not appreciate the unworthy being informed. From what she saw, this man was a merchant and nothing much useful to the Thistle Kingdom. Granted, the little she knew was admirable enough, but he was the wrong kind of man for Salsola. So she kept her smiles sweet and sad, seemingly for a tryst that she had failed to get because of the awkward state she had left it in. "I'll be sure to come by when I have something your people will find useful. I will let my Family know."

She bobbed her head at him, about to turn the horse from the trading area. The reins were bunched up in her grasp and she glanced at the man and his strange farewell call. She gave him a sad smile, lowering her hands with the reins to rest on the sturdy leather of the saddle. "Thank you, and I'm sorry," she added, shaking her head and looking away, for an appearance of modesty. "For anything I've said,"

Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

Vasiliy Russo · 07-16-2012, 08:08 AM

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(--) Bawww thread over? ;_;

Vasiliy is by me!

The granite-furred wolf shifted on his feet and looked down, lifting his shoulders in an awkward, scrunching sort of gesture. Mine fault too. Stupid words from my mouth, he said, wanting to blame it on the language barrier but knowing better. Perhaps she would have the blessed courtesy to allow the mishap to be chalked up to that language barrier, as he attempted to suggest, but maybe not, too. If she thought of him as strange, she might never come to Cercatori to trade. While this might be good for Vasi's pride, it was not good for Cercatori d'Arte, especially if this woman had pitch and other such goods.

Have good travel, he added, again shifting his weight. Abruptly, the dark-hued man turned back toward the jars of pitch and other goodies he'd obtained, bending down to sort through them and shift them around. They didn't need much shifting or rearranging, but he was eager to have an excuse to look somewhere other than the body he would have willingly embraced, were it not for his mind's sorry objections. She seemed perfectly innocent, and he'd gone and offended her by suggesting she might trade her honor for material good. His ears were pressed back into his mane as he worked, and though he wanted to glance behind and see if she was gone, he dared not.

Isabella Heiwa · 07-16-2012, 04:00 PM

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Word Count :: 259 yah I guess so :C

Isabella could only shrug at him. She knew whose it really was, hers. Oh, she knew it, and she was hitting herself for it. It was a little dull dealing solely with Sirius, intoxicating as his very presence was. She enjoyed a change of pace from the rough, hard edges of the Thistle King with a softer man, where she could feign innocence and stupidity. It was refreshing, even if a bit degrading, to be something other than she was. A break was nice, but her intelligence as a terrible comfort. "Yes, maybe. Perhaps my stint in French dulled me to English, and your words more so." It seemed cruel to insult the man's speaking but he did have a strange accent and stinted lingual patterns.

"Thank you, monsieur." Her words were soft, like a flower petal. She looked at the man as he turned away, to fumble with the bottles. Eyes impassive, she wondered what it would have been like. Perhaps it was better not to think about, since things that were soft tended to satisfy too quickly and left one not hungry for more. She might enjoy a night or two with a man like this, but it would grow tiresome and bothersome too quickly. Isabella turned her mare back toward Salsola, careful to keep the path she headed to be north of it, to make it seem as though it was not her destination. Even as she left, she did not deign to give a backward glance. This was not for the likes of her.

Photo courtesy of john curley. Table by Kitty.

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