[M] Serviam

[Ithiel de le Poer]

[html]

(430) Oh lordy!!! O_O Okay -- get ready for a barrel of awkward. XD Powerplayed in assuming she took the lashes as suggested in your post, let me know if any of this needs edits, yes? x:

Also, sorry for having him zip off, but, um! I dooooon't think Willam would've appreciated his boner? Hahaha. We can have a superawkward thread between them again, though, yes? If you want to reply again pls feel free, otherwise you can just archive? o:

Ithiel is by Raze!

The dusky-hued hybrid shook his head at her question. His father had left Inferni -- perhaps he'd gone all the way back to Scintilla. His half-brother had also departed. His cousin was in need of him, as he saw it. She was a woman and weak, susceptible to the wiles of more unscrupulous men and her emotions both. Though she might be intelligent enough to conquer these weaknesses, he doubted she was even aware of them. Should be propose them, she would deny it, he had no doubt.

She spoke of the church burning. Foul, he spat, ears flat against his head. She was quick to speak of her hopes, however, and he grew confused as he listened. The coyote was hopeful for herself, but Ithiel did not know if he ought to consider that a sin. Still -- she grasped her cross and seemed to have determined her fault. Their halt was sudden; Ithiel pulled Lystra alongside Châtiment and watched as she riffled through her things.

His crimson eyes lingered on the whip she'd produced, glancing toward her with open surprise as she offered its handle to him. The dark hybrid slid from his saddle more as a reflex than a desire to obey her request, but he found himself holding the whip all the same. He grasped its knotted leather in one hand, peering over it with mounting disquiet. He looked toward her, braced against the placid horse's side. His own mount meandered behind him and bent to graze, apparently uninterested in Châtiment entirely.

The feeling in him was akin to the one he'd felt when Alma kissed him -- almost. It was sharper, harder, and he became aware of a vague discomfort in his groin. The hybrid willed it away by sheer force of mind. He stepped toward Willam, crimson eyes appraising her back. Ithiel lifted the whip, hesitated, and brought its lash down against her back. The strange fire burning in him as he brought the whip up again.

And suddenly -- he stopped, freezing where he was. The creeping sensation between his legs had returned full-force. He whirled and darted toward Lystra. The dusky hybrid clambered up into the saddle, hunkering down so as to hide his shame. I must go, he said, quickly and loudly. Sorry. He mumbled this, his words almost slurred and uncharacteristically lacking in surety. One leg was lifted awkwardly, one arm dropped. He thought -- or hoped -- it was enough to cover himself as he wheeled his horse around and kicked his heels into her side.

<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');
</style>[/html]

[Willam la Chemin]

[html]PP is totalyl fine since I completely set it up like that. And that is totally fine cause Willam wouldn't know what to do anyways. *pets the poor sadist Ithiel* And totally, we can have another thread whenever you want. I always love me some Sie threads. Ah ha, and you know if he had ended up keeping the flogger rather than dropping it then that could totally give Willam a season to seek him out if you want.[/html]

The female gave a light nod of her head to his single word. It really was foul considering that was where everyone lived. It was their most frequently used structure. It was central and vital to life for la Chemin and now it was completely gone. There was nothing that could be done for it. They had come in and destroyed her home in the worst way that could possibly be imagined, at least by her. Willam could think of nothing worse than losing the place of worship. It held so many memories for her.

By her own words it was obvious that Willam was used to this form of punishment. But then she also had the scarring to prove it. Of course her think coat mostly hid the lashes from view though. But with the way she braced herself she made it clear that this wouldn't be her first time receiving lashes at another's hand. It was sometimes a practice for the entire congregation. There were even those who would do it every day, even multiple times a day. Of course Willam had a separate, non-barbed, flogger for the daily rite of suffering. Without suffering one couldn't be thankful by the end of the day, or at least that is what she had grown up knowing.

The female remained silent as the metal dug into her back and created thin lines. But the strike only came once before the male was quick to get on his horse and leave. She didn't understand his sudden departure but he was gone before she could question it. it left her to continue on the way that he was leading alone so that she might find where he talked of their being dried food and a place to rest.