[m] [p] so you say, "we will see"

POSTED: Sat Sep 15, 2012 2:07 pm

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<td><b class="red">WARNING</b>: 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.</td>
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<strong>Location:</strong>
<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 28 Sep* (<small>Foredated</small>)
<br/> <strong>Weather:</strong> Clear, warm
<br/><strong>Time:</strong> Afternoon
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<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.VerennaWyrre"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/eUkrc.png" title="Optime" alt="Optime">
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<div class="txtooc"><p> <span class="word">--</span>
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<p class="sieImage"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/V8cQm.png" style="width:200px;"> <br/> Machidael is by me! </p>
<p>
It was only after almost three hours of cajoling, whining, and pleading that Machidael got Verenna out of the hovel where they'd shacked up. Machidael wanted desperately to parade her around as proof of his manhood, though of course it was not so defined a desire as that. The curve of her belly was now apparent, and she'd put on several pounds -- evidence of her good eating at Machidael's hand. A half-eaten carcass of deer was, even then, waiting for their return, strung up outside of their room.
</p><p>
For his part, Machidael was striding and peering around, searching feverishly for someone to view Verenna and her condition, proof as it was of his masculinity and ability to reproduce. The streets of the city were empty, however, and Machi soon found himself meandering further into suburbia. Verenna whined a few times behind him, dragging her feet, and he turned to shout at her. She <u title="wotd">quailed</u> as she had done when he'd screamed earlier.
</p><p>
More and more he found himself resorting to shouts. There was no reason she should lay upon the hotel room's floor all day -- the women in the raider clan rode their horses until the very end of pregnancy, and she was not showing so much as protruding just slightly (and it might have been mistaken for fat, at that). He was, he justified, getting her up and about as much for her own good as to stroke his own ego, and he kept this thought in mind as he dropped back, looping an arm begrudgingly about her waist.
</p><p>
<b>Only small bit,</b> he said, laboring over the words. It was not so hard as he made it sound, but he would still play the slow learner with her. <b>Small bit,</b> he said, snaking a hand up to squeeze her breast. She winced and slapped his hand away.
</p><p>
<b class="npc">Stop it, they're sore,</b> Verenna said. Machidael obeyed, but slid his hand down to her rear instead. She did not protest at this, and looked over at him with a tired-seeming smile. Machidael could not know it, but she was at least sincere in her desire to make him her man. As such, she'd tolerate -- and even enjoy -- his masculine attentions. The jackal hybrid led her down a side-street, now peering around less with his hand occupied and his eyes on her breasts -- had they gotten larger?
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POSTED: Sun Sep 16, 2012 11:48 pm

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blah sucksucksuck, Lev be creepin'

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<p>Finally, there was a change in the man who’d done little but lurk in the forests to look after something already gone and retreat to the dilapidated city to dream that it had returned. He’d ceased pitying himself or to think of the children and the lover he’d left behind, buried in the ground and burying. He’d broken the dull cycle of moving between the city and the woods, instead letting his feet lead him on a whim, his washed-out blue eyes once again seeking opportunity at every corner. It almost looked like he’d let his wounds heal rather than peeling off the scabs whenever they formed.
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But, if his grief had been a wound, it would not heal cleanly over with nary a scar to show for it. Instead, it had festered, and Levent simply found himself trying to keep his mind off it rather than dwelling needlessly on the past that was Cercatori d’Arte and Hotaru and his children. He’d sought solace in his holy book, at first, but then started to simply wander until he ran across something interesting.
</p><p>
Normally Wilson tagged along on these escapades; he’d sensed the dark change in his friend and was concerned that Levent would get into trouble—probably rightfully so. It only made the scrawny wolf more glad when he managed to slip out from under the tomcat’s nose, heading out into the clear afternoon air as the cat struck out on a post-nap hunt. He felt like a dog that had shaken off its collar, and so leashless he ran carelessly through the streets, for once not fearing what might lurk behind the corners he sought out.
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Today it seemed that the god had saw fit to grace Levent with an interesting scenario. He swiveled his dark ears to the sound of voices and turned into a side street to see a pair of luperci: a dark chestnut jackal and a brown she-wolf. They seemed very occupied with each other, and anyone else might have retreated soundlessly to save themselves the embarrassment of having walked onto such an intimate scene. Instead, though, the Turk stared unabashedly and curiously. They were an interesting pair, the jackal (a species he wasn’t surprised to see, as he should have been) thin and the wolf hybrid more plump in contrast.
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Levent grinned softly, his teeth shining, and called out a Turkish greeting.</p>

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POSTED: Tue Sep 18, 2012 6:18 pm

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<div class="txtooc"><p> <span class="word">--</span>
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<p class="sieImage"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/hQ2Ow.png" style="width:200px;"> <br/> Machidael is by Nat! </p>
<p>
He imagined they had, but perhaps it was just imagination. In any case, she'd never denied him physical pleasure -- though surely the time would come when her whole body was too sore to engage him. Machidael did not like to think of such times, but knew he might always find other entertainment, should he care to look for it. There was always something or someone to do, after all. She did at least also tolerate these necessities -- though he hadn't explained it to her in such blunt terms, she seemed to want to show off her state, as well. Her back arched to push the tiny swell of her belly forward, and Machidael became aware she was looking at something. Or, someone, as it turned out, for the wolf chose that moment to call a greeting.
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Machidael's ears perked up at the strange -- yet familiar -- words. They were not of his language, but he had heard similar enough in his travels through his homeland. Disentangling himself from Verenna, who was grinning widely and <em>waving</em>, the idiot -- Machidael stepped forward. <b>Hi. Do you speak Arabic?</b> he asked, in his mother tongue. Verenna kept pace with him, having at least ceased her waving, and was now walking with a hand on her tiny belly, looking as proud of the little bump as a mother fit to burst.
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POSTED: Mon Oct 01, 2012 3:01 am

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<p>The brown coywolf seemed glad enough to see him, but Levent saw the jackal of someone deserving of more interest. That wasn’t to say he rudely ignored the woman, however; instead, he threw a charming smile her way as if he’d never had the pleasure to meet someone so friendly and pretty. It was bright but brief as his attentions returned to the skinny hybrid, who spoke in a language that Levent hadn’t heard in a long time, but recognized well from his book and from plenty of meetings in the missed eastern hemisphere.
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<b>“I speak a little,”</b> Levent replied in the tones of a non-native, but well-studied, speaker. He didn’t speak with the ease of his native tongue or his second one, the one taught to him by his English mother growing up in London, but it was understandable and only slightly awkward-sounding to one who’d spoken the language all their life. <b>“I can’t think many others here do,” </b>he added with a grin, about to stuff his hands into his pockets before changing his mind; he didn’t want to do anything that seemed threatening, even if the woman would be oblivious to anything so subtle.
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Half for her benefit (he thought, at least; she didn’t seem to have comprehension of what her companion was saying, if she’d care) and half out of habit, he spoke his next line in simple English: <b>“What are your names?”</b> His blue eyes flickered over the jackal’s leanly muscled frame then landed on the female’s belly from her little cue, smiling as he thought was appropriate; though, at the same time, he hadn’t really thought that puppies would continue to be conceived and born now that his had been ripped out of the world.
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POSTED: Wed Oct 03, 2012 6:13 am

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<div class="txtooc"><p> <span class="word">--</span> /drags ass all over 'souls
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<p class="sieImage"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/cAxEx.png" style="width:200px;"> <br/> Machidael is by me! </p>
<p>
Machidael did not like the glance Verenna threw toward the newcomer. While his smile had been one of respectful adoration and appreciation for the prize Machidael owned -- namely, Verenna -- her returning look had just the right amount of almost puppyish longing. He had seen that look on her enough times to recognize it and its underlying meaning, and had not thought to see such a gaze directed on another man -- least of all with Machidael's own presence. He was able to dismiss it for the moment, however, for the man seemed disinterested in her aside from his initial smile.
</p><p>
Machidael did not continue paying enough attention to the earthen-hued woman to determine her next look, and instead almost made to brush her aside. <b>No,</b> Machi agreed. <b>Only me,</b> he said, though that was not entirely accurate -- his sister, at least, spoke Arabic, and he knew outside of her and this newcomer, too, there were bound to be at least a few others. <b>I'm not so good in English,</b> he confessed, happy to play the same farce with this stranger he did with Verenna. The change in language, however, was rapid and smooth enough to jar with his statement somewhat. <b>I Machidael, woman mine Verenna.</b>
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Verenna had seemed ready to answer and taken aback by Machidael's sudden offering in English, though she was quick to make up for it. <b class="npc">We're ever so glad to meet you,</b> she said, grinning and wagging her tail. <b class="npc">Machidael was just making me get up and about. He told me it's good for a mother. Well, not in so many words -- that's how he is, and I don't speak... what's it called. Whatever it is.</b> Her smile was vapid, words earnest, and Machidael found himself lowering his head and lifting a hand to his eyes, though he aborted the gesture and instead stuck a hand on his hip, looking at Verenna with expectant, empty curiosity of his own -- as if her fast-paced, rapid clip of speech had surpassed his understanding entirely.
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POSTED: Fri Oct 12, 2012 8:06 pm

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Buuuh sorry for wait; I haven't liked Levent lately but I'm fixin' it. xD
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<p> The reddish jackal stated that he was the only one to speak Arabic, and Levent nodded in vague agreement. He’d heard a few surprising accents and languages in his time here, such as Russian, but he doubted that there were any speakers of Turkish here either. The man with a death-god’s name who was <i>oh so</i> easily offended did not count, and Lev was glad to have mostly forgotten his marred accent.</p><p>
Switching over to the second language, the thin man introduced himself as Machidael and his woman as Verenna; the latter grinned at him again and prattled away, and Levent quirked another smile at her tummy. <b>“Arabic,”</b> he offered when she lacked the word for her companion’s native tongue. <b>“And yes—it is good.”</b>
</p><p>His dark ears tilted back slightly, and he almost found himself wondering how active Hotaru had been when swollen with his children, but he pushed the memories aside. They were of the past. The man who’d created life in Cercatori d’Arte had died with them.</p><p>
<b> “I am Levent,”</b> the Turk added, dipping his head; his name was really all that remained of his pasts.
</p><p> Lifting his muzzle again, he wondered instead why the two had paired up, not quite believing that they’d be able to find love in each other’s internal qualities without a common tongue to express it, and decided that it wasn’t his business anyway. There were plenty of interesting companions one could have in Europe, at least, and he’d no doubt that all the vices of his old land could surface on this peninsula, too.
</p><p> Maybe she’d been in heat and he’d knocked her up, and somehow felt obligated (whether through compassion or cruelty) to stick around. Levent didn’t think he could fault the brown coywolf for her choice in partner, though, and a coy flicker of his blue eyes over the other man’s body stated as much.
</p><p> <b>“You must have come from long away,”</b> Levent remarked, returning to only slightly stunted Arabic. <b>“Why would you come to this land, of all lands?”</b>

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