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Messages - Rhindeer

#21
Essyrn / Re: Beneath the Sand’s Veil [Rhi]
February 07, 2024, 12:15:51 PM
The gun fired and Frost gasped and covered her ears, ducking instinctively and clenching her eyes shut. Holy shit, holy shit! She had heard of Connlaothians and their firearms...but what was that glow? And though she had heard of them, she had never seen such a weapon in action.

And now she fully understood why they were so terrifying. 

She scrambled back away from him until her back bumped up against a desk. The slaves were fleeing, and she desperately wanted to be one of them. Why was he letting them go? Did he only want her? 

And then he turned and assured her that he was bad—but not him.

As it turned out, it was true. 

He was so much worse.

While he confronted the Essyrni man, Frost grabbed onto the edge of the desk, grit her teeth, and hauled herself to her feet, biting her lip so she didn't gasp in pain. Come on, she could do it. Freedom was right there. Quickly, while they were both distracted. But she was exhausted from lack of food and injury alike, and her legs were shaking too badly from both, and—

Another gunshot rang out, making her ears ring and body flinch, her heart leaping into her throat. She twisted around to look.

Right as the Essyrni man crumpled.

Frost stared at the dead man, body locked up and frozen, and then lifted her eyes to the wall painted red behind him. 

No, not just red. 

There were pink chunks among the red, fragments of white stuck in the blood, and...oh gods...oh gods...Frost realized she was staring at blood and bone and brain as the man's dead body still twitched—

He killed him. Oh gods, he killed him...

And suddenly she felt too cold, and the sounds all around her felt so far away, like they were coming to her through a tunnel as the edges of her vision blackened. There was a ringing sound, and the sound of a frantic drum in her ears, but everything else faded to nothing. She had never seen someone die, never seen someone's head get turned inside out, never seen or smelled so much blood...her hands and feet tingled, breathing became too hard—

The world tilted then went black as her eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped bonelessly to the ground.
#22
...Spice Chai-Der.

Spice Chai-Der.

Not Spider Chai.

It was in that moment, as Spike gently corrected the barista and what she'd said sank in, that Fang wanted to die

Her face was burning and she was aggressively NOT making eye contact with anyone as Spike lead her to the table—and then Spike leaned in and whispered to her. Spider wife. With a soft groan, she slid into the seat and deflated forward onto the table with her face buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking with horrified laughter.

"I can never come here again," she said, voice muffled against her arms. "They must think me an absolute imbecile!"
#23
Kishahn Jungle / Re: Cat and Mouse [open!]
February 07, 2024, 06:43:17 AM
"What?! Hey, you rat, wait!" Raxta snapped as Kaela just took off, just like that, when she'd barely finished! "No, no, you're supposed to—oh, whatever."

With a roll of her eyes, she gave a quick stretch, limbering up and cracking her neck and back. And she was just about to dive after her when a sharp crack from above made her ears rotate and drew her eyes toward the sound along with them. She glanced toward the trees, squinting.

But saw nothing. Just thick canopy.

Probably just a monkey.

Shrugging, she dove into the water and went after Kaela in a swift breaststroke, and was soon overtaking her.
#24
Aaaaaand they were married again.

Spike pulled her in close and announced her as his wife, and Fang felt her cheeks turn to flame. W-what? This again?! Despite the fact that they had been smashing body parts together not hours earlier, it was this that never failed to fluster her. Well, it was the other thing too, certainly, but this? And to do it so publicly?

She hadn't been about to speak up, prepared to let this slide under the rug so they could move on from the uncomfortable situation fast, but Spike had other ideas. While her typical way of dealing with these situations was to not make waves, Spike on the other hand refused to let such disrespect fly.

The man's eyes widened at Spike's announcement, eyebrows climbing to his hairline, and he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean--right! Yeah! Of course. What can I get you...ma'am?"

"Uhh, it's okay, really!" Fang said quickly, shrinking against Spike's side. It felt like too many people were looking now and she just desperately wanted out of this line! "It's fine, it's...right! I'll just, um, I'll have...what was it? The Spider? Yes, may I have the Spider Chai, please?"

The man stared, blinking slowly. "Pardon? The...what chai?"

Fang shot Spike a panicked look. "The Spider, right? The chai with the apples and...stuff...?"
#25
Essyrn / Re: Beneath the Sand’s Veil [Rhi]
February 06, 2024, 07:33:12 PM
It was a miserable and bumpy ride, the man pressed up against her back in a way that made her cringe. But if there were any mercies left for her in the universe, it was that the kaadir was fast and made the trip quick, and soon they had stopped before an opulent estate. More slaves, presumably, came to fetch the kaadir and take it off to be fed and watered and stabled while her new captor lifted her up yet again and carried her inside through a back entrance.

Frost was tired. The fight had drained from her, at least for the moment, as reality crept in and gripped her throat with icy fingers of terror. The Connlaothian woman and her gang had been the devil she knew. She had grown, in a sick way, comfortable with them: she knew what they would do and what they wouldn't, and she knew that they wanted her alive and unspoiled. They would hurt her, yes, but nothing that caused lasting or even visible damage; they were very, very careful. Frost knew how far she could push the boundaries before there were consequences, and she had even managed to run twice. She didn't get very far, but she'd done it.

There was none of that familiarity with this man. Even worse, she couldn't understand him. Gwendolyn had a clearly defined list of Things She Would Do and Things She Would Not Do, but for all she knew this man had no such limits.

Which meant it was even more crucial that she get the fuck out as soon as possible.

The back way, as it turned out, was where his slaves were kept. Frost could see the cell where they were kept, could see the mix of mostly Essyrni men and women shrink back from the bars as they entered. He lowered Frost to the ground, clearly unconcerned about her, and picked up a ledger off a table and began to make notes in it, glancing up at her every now and then as he did. Frost stared at him, venom in her eyes. And yet as strange as it was, the way he looked at her, while dehumanizing, was in some ways...reassuring? She may as well have been a chair for all the interest he showed her.

Okay. Okay, she thought, shifting on the balls of her feet, pain shooting through her heels like knives. She could do this. She could do this. No matter how tired or afraid she was, she needed to fight here and now. She knew this, she always knew it would come to this eventually. The moment those chains came off...it didn't matter if he killed her in the fight. She had to try. If he put her in that cell...

She had a feeling she wouldn't get another chance after.

...And then the door splintered.

It startled her so badly she stumbled, falling backwards onto her ass with a pained grunt, and she wasn't the only one surprised. The Essyrni barely had time to react before the intruder was beating him to the ground and yelling at him in her captor's language.

And...oh fuck her...

It was the other man. The one that had competed with the Essyrni.

He'd actually stalked the Essyrni here to break into his home?!

It seemed the Essyrni had become the new "devil she knew." This man was flat-out UNHINGED!

More shouts, more threats she assumed, more beatings, and the Essyrni opened the cell to let out the slaves. Then, with that pistol aimed at his head, he approached her unsteadily, hauled her to her to her feet by the front of her shift, and unlocked her chains--then shoved her at the new man. Unprepared for that, and hurting, she collapsed gracelessly at his feet but quickly scrambled to her knees and yanked the gag out of her mouth.

"You'll regret this," he growled through his pain, pressing a hand to his head, which was bleeding profusely from a nasty gash. "You stand out, pigskin. We'll find you."

"You crazy motherfucker," Frost rasped at the new man, mouth and throat bone dry from the gag and heart thundering in her ears. She was shaking, and the tremble was in her voice, but she was doing her damnedest not to show it. For the moment, at least, she dared not move. That pistol was on the Essyrni, but she didn't trust that it couldn't turn just as easily on her.
#26
Spike removed his coat with sudden urgency and laid it around Fang's shoulders before she had time to wonder about it, the fabric still warm from his body heat and smelling, pleasantly, like him. A little shiver went through her as the heat seeped into her skin, and she realized then just how chilled she'd been and just how stubbornly she'd been ignoring it.

Absolutely swimming in the coat, Fang shimmied her arms through the sleeves and felt a little silly for how it draped around her like a dress with floppy arms, but...you know what? She was not going to fight this. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows to free up her hands before sliding her hand back into Spike's, flashing him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

As for his suggestions? Oh yes, she remembered him taking coffee last time, and while it smelled nice, she could never get past the bitterness. The chai concoction on the other hand sounded...interesting.

"Spice...chai-der...?" she repeated slowly, trying to wrap her head around the idea. She did love chai (and the spicier the better), but apples? Hmm...

Well, what was the point of being in a new country if not to try new things?

"Why not? That sounds like it could be fun," she said at last. "What kind of coffee are you—"

She cut off, because that was when a weight on her shoulder sent a cold chill up her spine despite the coat's warmth.

It wasn't really a weight so much as an oppressive...energy. Lawrence was there, mocking Spike, and Fang shot Spike a look, eyebrows raised. Even in Thanatos she knew better than to react publicly when she encountered a spirit, at least not without explaining herself, lest she looked like she was talking to herself. But in Serendipity? The country that drove her people out for speaking with the dead, deeming it necromancy? She didn't dare. So she smiled at Spike, a smile that said she saw what he saw, and stepped up to the counter with him when it was their turn, her hand firmly gripping his.

The man behind the counter hid a yawn behind his hand as they approached, his expression bored and eyes shadowed with sleep deprivation. "Welcome, what can I get for--"

He flicked a look at Fang, a quick up and down look with an arched brow, and then at Spike. "What can I get for ya?" he finished, and it didn't escape Fang's notice that he was focused entirely on Spike rather than addressing them together.
#27
Now that it was light out and their little hiccup was addressed, Fang took to actually looking around as they walked—and felt a little foolish, because she knew she must be gawking. Everything was different here; of course it was, it was another country. It was much colder than she was used to, and she thought that maybe she should have taken him up on the offer of the coat as goosebumps pebbled along her exposed skin—or at least worn her robes. Yet she had felt that both of those things would somehow make her stand out more than bare skin...and now she was second-guessing that entirely, as everyone here seemed to show barely any skin at all.

Which figured, considering the temperature.

Was this how Spike felt in Thanatos? Completely over his head with no idea where anything was or what the proper etiquette was with people giving him looks all the time?

At least she had the benefit of speaking the Trader's Tongue, thank Inima. He hadn't even had that. It must have been rough...

And as they entered the cafe, she flashed back to how he'd been treated, and how she had had to come to the rescue. Oh goddess. Suppose it served her right, seeing and feeling things from the other side. But what a great lesson in humility, right? In fact, the whole experience was a little strangely nostalgic. His spirits were active again, Lawrence standing in plain view behind the counter. 

It was like going back in time.

Squeezing Spike's hand tightly, she turned her eyes away from Lawrence and to the tea selection on the back wall—and saw many old faces, but also a dozen new blends. New teas? Yes, please! 

Raising up onto her toes, she leaned up to speak into Spike's ear. "Any recommendations?"
#28
Seaside Town of Cerenis / Re: Simple Solutions [Rhi!] [M]
February 06, 2024, 07:47:22 AM
Backpack open on the floor, Cadmus knelt and started rolling up his shirts to make them as compact as possible before shoving them in the pack. Which was also about the time that Raizel joined him on the floor to fish around under the bed for something. On hands and knees.

Yes. He looked. Though to be very fair at first it was simple curiosity as to what she could be be searching for before his eyes traveled and, well. What could he say. He was a man and he appreciated a nice ass, and he appreciated said ass all the more when it happened to be attached to someone he was fond of.

Catching himself staring, Cadmus shifted his eyes back to the backpack even though he was finished with it. He fussed with the straps and buckles and made sure everything was secure (even though the fussing wasn't necessary at all, but it was just to give his hands something to do) while Raizel came back out with her greaves and finished up the rest of her ensemble.

The look suited her, and he couldn't help but imagine the two of them looked rather funny side by side: her looking tall, regal, and graceful in her gear, him in plainclothes. He could have been her squire.

With a little snort to himself at the thought, he stood and slung the backpack on. "I appreciate you. I noted they were cotton, not wool, so thank you for taking my sanity into consideration." Otherwise he might just claw his own skin off, as he had nearly done the last time he'd worn a scratchy woolen thing.

"As for the sword, well, I suppose it's a little of both. It's well-made for sure, but..." He gave an uncomfortable shrug, "it belonged to a friend."

Not wanting to linger on that whole mess, he quickly nodded at her own blade. "What about you? I've never seen one like that. It's...pretty."
#29
Essyrn / Re: Beneath the Sand’s Veil [Rhi]
February 05, 2024, 07:21:57 PM
Frost had nothing else to do but watch.

It was a horrifying experience, to say the least. Of course she knew this was coming. But the actual reality of standing on a stage with dozens of eyes upon her bidding on her like livestock was  quite different from the scenarios she'd ran through her head to try to mentally prepare herself. There was stage fright, and then there was this: the morbid experience of getting to watch people decide just how much her life was worth. 

It eventually whittled down to two contenders, and she hated them both with every fiber of her being. One was clearly Essyrni, a tall, muscular man with a scarred face. Despite it, he had an air of arrogance and was dressed well, a man who was clearly wealthy—and felt confident enough to flaunt it, daring anyone to try anything. The other was also tall with an ethnicity she couldn't quite discern. He looked like he might be Serenian or Connlaothian or a mix of the two...and no, she decided she hated him even more on principal because of that. How could he watch this happen to his own people? If, in fact, she was one of his people, that is.

The numbers climbed higher, and Frost worried at the chains at her back. She didn't exactly know what her plan was, but it felt like her thumbs were the only thing keeping from slipping out. Maybe if she dislocated them...? Right, and then what? Run away into a crowd that was actively against her and wanted her? Run with feet so bruised she was sweating just standing there—from pain more than the heat? Great plan there, absolutely flawless! But going quietly had never been her style.

And it gave her something to focus on, the pain in her hand grounding her and keeping her from panicking as she worked at her chains, worked at the joint...

She was so focused on her failed attempts that she missed how much she was sold for. She only caught that she was sold.

It was the Essyrni.

Fuck.

She was practically carried down off the stage as the man strode forward and paid the merchant, and then the chains were passed over to him. He and the merchant exchanged words in Essyrni and he gave a hearty laugh at whatever they said—but he didn't say anything to her, didn't even bother to remove the gag. He just gave her a rough tug to pull her along, impatient. 

And when she stumbled as a result, her balance thrown with her arms bound and her feet screaming, he gave an annoyed sigh and threw her over his shoulder like a sack instead, one arm gripping her around the legs. Frost grunted, gasping through her nose in pain as his shoulder jabbed up into her too-thin ribs, and the world spun and tilted as she was carried away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...! Wheezing for breath, which was difficult with the gag, she tried to look at where they were going but couldn't lift herself enough. All she could do was stare down the man's back and see where they had been as they headed further and further from the market. But she was quite aware when he slung her into the saddle of a kaadir, and mounted the beast right behind her.
#30
Spike pulled her into an embrace, and Fang just...melted. There was nothing really that needed to be said, no words that could magically heal everything—only time could do that. But sometimes words weren't needed at all, as Spike was soon to learn; sometimes just listening and being present was enough.

And in this case—sometimes one just also really, really needed a hug.

Fang wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, nestling against him with her cheek against his chest and eyes closed as she just breathed him in. She hadn't realized how much she needed this, this simple human contact, these arms that were filled with warmth and safety, and through it she poured in her forgiveness and her own silent apologies and hoped he would feel it, too. 

Taking a deep breath, hands lightly curled in his shirt, she nodded. "It's okay," she said quietly. "It's not your fault. You can't control the actions of others." 

Another squeeze, her body flush against his, and she finally let go of him reluctantly and gave him a soft smile. "Thank you for that. I...I honestly think I needed that."
#31
Essyrn / Re: Beneath the Sand’s Veil [Rhi]
February 05, 2024, 03:35:09 PM
It was a busy morning at the marketplace, the square abuzz with the shouts of merchants hawking their wares, customers haggling, children playing, and animals squawking. It was busier than usual that day; it was cooler out with a little cloud cover which brought more people out to take advantage of the nicer weather.

And it just so happened to coincide with an auction going on in one corner of the market.

A Connlaothian slaver and her gang had brought in a good haul a few days prior. The merchants never questioned where she'd gotten them from; they must simply be undesirables and criminals if they'd wound up in such a position. Money exchanged hands with every successful sale; Gwendolyn had hired a merchant to do the selling and talking for her, giving him a percentage of each purchase. After all, she didn't know the language and didn't particularly care much for this part. It was a good deal. The merchant got paid handsomely, and she and her group took home the lion's share for doing the heavy lifting.

Business as usual.

Gwen stood near the stage, taking a drag on a cigarette as the merchant brought a tall Serenian man up to sell, blowing out a stream of smoke in a slow, lazy breath. Most of her merchandise was Serenian. It was her preferred hunting ground, and this was her preferred market as it was across several borders with enough distance between them that it was less likely that her...stock...would be found again or cause her any trouble. She glanced behind her where one of her men, Kaddik, was hauling the last of the goods from one of the wagons.

She was a small thing and far too thin with scarred arms she found quite unseemly. Not exactly the desired looks or temperament for a bed slave (though there were those individuals who might enjoy the taming), and too pale for most Essyrni tastes anyway, but that wasn't the sort of customer she was trying to attract for that one, anyway.

And oh lord. Here they went. Luckily the girl had other valuable qualities otherwise she might have to pay someone to buy the damned thing. Gwen scowled as Kaddik dragged her out while she kicked and screamed like a feral thing, a little impressed she still had the energy. She'd had Tedrig take a switch to the soles of her feet several days ago after another failed escape attempt. As she'd warned her, she could beat her without ever leaving a visible mark.

Her fault she hadn't listened.

Snuffing out her cigarette with her boot, Gwen let out a long-suffering sigh. "Will you just gag her already? Ansgar's left tit, shut her up."

"You'll regret this, you fucking hag!" the girl yelled, blue eyes burning with hatred as she was dragged along, a limp in her step. "You'll—"

Her curses cut off as Kaddik stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied it off behind her head. Gwen rubbed her temples. Blissful silence, save for the muffled protests. "I would have thought you'd be over this by now. You were doing so well the other day."

Turning toward the merchant as he returned down the stairs, having sold the Serenian man, he gave her a skeptical look as Kaddik passed him the chains. Gwen stepped closer to the two, flicking a look at the girl as she glared at her through her tears.

"Think of this one as more of an...ingredient. A tool," she explained. "It's in the blood. She's a magical amplifier of some sort from my understanding, and a natural antidote to poison. Feel free to let any interested buyers test it out. We had to use her blood on one of the horses a few weeks back." She pointed to the scars on the girl's arm in demonstration, indicating where they might get said blood. "I'm sure there'll be skeptics nonetheless."

She motioned the merchant to take her, suggesting a high starting price that had the merchant lifting his eyebrows (if they pulled that off, that was especially good news for him), and then the girl had no choice but to limp after him as he tugged her along by her chains, her arms bound behind her back and a collar around her throat. Dressed in just a simple ratty shift, the sun was already turning her pale skin pink in patches.

Standing atop the makeshift stage as the merchant announced her attributes and a starting bid, Frost glared over the crowd—but her heart was racing with terror. And yet beneath the terror was the only thing that had kept her sane over the course of the journey.

She was fucking pissed.

This was the.

Worst.

Fucking.

Year.

Of her life.

And this whole debacle wasn't even the start of it all! It was just the rotten cherry on top of the shit sundae.

She held onto the anger because without it, she would crumple and cower and cry—and she wasn't sure how much more crying she was capable of, having spent her tears weeks ago. Probably couldn't even produce them here with the heat wicking away her sweat before it could roll down her skin. And so Frost stared over the crowd, teeth digging into the gag until it hurt her jaw, and made a secret vow to make them all pay.

And so began the bidding.

#32
Of course you're welcome here! There have been many, many members who have come and gone and come back again over the years and our door is always open! We understand that life happens and that always takes priority over pretendy funtimes. <3

I hope everything has gotten a bit better for you and how you have lots of fun! Welcome back! 8D It's exciting to have ya!
#33
They thought he was proposing marriage?! What?! How?! Was that how it was done in Serenian culture? That's what it looked like? Fang's head spun, and she couldn't be more relieved to get away from the onlookers as he guided her along.

So this was what it felt like from the other side, then. Like any innocuous gesture could be unintentionally offensive or scandalous. Yikes.

But soon enough they were out of range, and Spike picked back up where they left off. And what he said sent another pang of guilt through her. He...he thought he was tipping them for good service and to help cover the damage. She thought he was paying for her. 

Ohhhh dear...well now she just felt like a jerk.

She stole a sidelong glance up at him and then looked away, giving his hand a squeeze. "I see..." she said slowly, regret in her voice. "That...makes sense. I...oh goddess, Spike, I should have known better, with you of all people. And I didn't want to think that. But...well, in Thanatos, sometimes they work the streets, and someone might bring them to a certain establishment, shall we say, and pay the establishment for giving them a place to, you know. I'm not sure of all the specifics but I thought...maybe that was..."

She trailed off, biting the inside of her cheek, and finally turned to face him. "I'm sorry. I think I'm just a little..." She waved her free hand, trying to think of the phrasing. "Unbalanced right now. After everything that happened on the ship. I know I've been acting like I'm okay. I'm really trying to be."
#34
The change in his expression was instantaneous—and it gave her the answer before his words did. The regret, the fear, the confusion. He would have had to be a spectacular actor to pull off so many expressions in such a short time, and so convincingly on top of it—and while he was very skilled in a number of areas, Fang somehow doubted his skill there.

Did he...really not understand?

She had desperately hoped she was reading the situation wrong. Hadn't he defended her when Echen had thrown that word in her face? He had nearly slit his throat for that! And there was not one instance, not a single moment in time, when he had ever made her feel lesser. There was not a single moment where he made her feel disrespected or unsafe. When she looked at Spike she saw, and felt, security and affection—and that was why it hurt so, so much.

And yet, deep down, as much as Fang tried to ignore it...insecurity had taken root. The words had stung. The looks had stung. She had been assaulted for it. And though she had made a noble effort to hide it, she was afraid of what people thought of her, and always had been, especially here in a foreign land where she knew she would be judged.

And then...last night happened. And this morning. She indulged in pleasure for pleasure's sake with a Serenian man. More insecurity. More guilt. It all compounded, bubbling under the surface, and no matter how hard she pressed the lid down...eventually the pressure made it boil over.

The coin on the counter had done it. But. His eyes and words were telling a different story?

"No, Fang, I love—"

He cut off. What? He loved what? But then he continued, clarifying...and Fang visibly relaxed, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders as the hurt softened to hope. And then, taking her by surprise once more, he dropped to one knee and took her hand as he begged forgiveness.

That drew the attention of several onlookers who gasped and turned to watch the "proposal", some scandalized, some vibrating with excitement or jealousy or wistfulness over such a romantic display. If they had been nearer, however, they might have noticed that the couple's facial expressions did not match the scene.

Fortunately for Spike, Fang was completely oblivious to the cultural significance. She startled, but only because she hadn't expected him to practically prostrate himself. She gave a quick glance around, hyper-aware of the stares, and gave his hand a little upward tug.

"Of course I forgive you," she whispered. "I...I believe you. I'm just...I'm sorry, I'm a little confused. Ah, get up, Spike, people are staring..."

Biting her lip, gathering her thoughts, she let out a sigh and worried at a lock of her hair, twisting and untwisting it around her finger anxiously. "Why did you throw money on the counter as we left, then? You'd already paid for the room the night before." She shifted her eyes away. "It...it made me think you were paying for...having me."
#35
Zantaric / Mistakes Were Made
February 05, 2024, 01:48:41 AM
@nephero


It was the morning light shining directly into Mei Yi's closed eyes that finally roused her. Even filtered through the dingy window it was still bright enough to bother, and with a yawn and a groan, she threw her arm over her face. Bleh. She was normally an early bird, rising at dawn with a perkiness that made the night owls cringe, but her head felt achy and she didn't want to move.

Except the rest of her was kind of sore, too, now that she was awake enough to notice. Probably had something to do with the chair she was curled up in.

...chair?

Cracking her eyes open and rubbing the sleep away, Mei flicked a look around the familiar room with a mixture of confusion and...triumph. Huh! So she'd earned room and board after all! Or something like that! She didn't actually remember how; she remembered dinner and talking over wine, and it was right around the history lesson that things started to get fuzzy. She didn't remember how she'd gone from the stool to the chair, and worst of all, she couldn't  remember if she'd finished the lesson or given the appropriate quizzes to check comprehension and retention. Ohhhh boy. Hopefully it hadn't gone completely off topic. It had been a while since she'd had that much wine at once, but any beverage was a danger in her vicinity when she was on a roll, as she tended to be a mindless sipper.

With another yawn and a stretch that made her spine crack, she slid out of the chair. It was early still, and quiet. Shea must be asleep or otherwise occupied. Whatever the case may be, she had promised breakfast, right? Or maybe he had? Ah, it didn't matter! She was hungry, not quite hungover but also kind of sort of, and she certainly owed him for letting her crash instead of shooing her out the door.

And that's how she ended up back in his kitchen. She found one of her books open on the table—not her notebook, but a smaller one she'd brought with her from a library in Thanatos. She instantly recognized it: Saya Ling's Compendium of Beasts, Vol 2, and currently it was opened to a page on the Thunderblacks. Oh. Ohhh, yes, it seemed their history lesson had taken a turn at some point (or, optimistically, she'd finished and then segued into dragons, because oh man, she loved dragons) and she couldn't remember what that was about.

After discreetly closing it and plopping it back into her bag to clear up space, she put more poultice on her leg (it was looking, and feeling, much better), rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

Soon, Shea's kitchen had become a research project.

Mei gathered a few veggies from his garden and then set about raiding his cupboards and ice box—and got distracted by both. With extra time on her hands now that they weren't both hogging space and trying to whip up dinner, she took a moment to really examine the contraption. She even drew up a rough sketch and labeled all the parts she could see and remember from his description. Truly, it was magnificent! There must be a way to accomplish the same effect without using forbidden magics, surely? She made a note to explore that line of thought more later.

Then as she plundered his spices, that became another detour of its own as there were a few herbs she didn't recognize, perhaps ones native to this area. Those went into her notebook in the section on plants. As she set aside the spices she wanted and put away the ones she didn't, she casually reorganized them. Alphabetically. Using his language of course, not hers, because that wouldn't make sense for him. It was good practice, though, since she spoke the Trader's Tongue more than she wrote it.

...And breakfast still wasn't made and she still didn't know what she was making with the ingredients she had spread out over the counter and grouped into loose meal ideas. Some sort of potato fry up or something? But there was a hiccup: she had no idea where to get water since Shea had provided it via magic last time.

Alright. Plan B!

He had flour, salt, and milk, and there was butter. Gathering those up on the counter and searching until she found a suitable mixing bowl and spoons, she combined ingredients until it looked like roughly the consistency she needed. She had a flint so she lit the hearth and grabbed a pan.

Soon enough, Mei was settled comfortably by the hearth flipping dough with her hands, which were covered to the wrist in flour—along with a significant portion of the entire front of her as well as his floor.

The kitchen was a mess of half finished and abandoned projects.

But hey! Fresh flatbread!
#36
Fang was quiet as he set her down, and was quiet as she straightened out her clothes and her hair, using that to buy time to collect her thoughts. She didn't look at Spike as he apologized; more like she looked at anything else but him.

Breathe, breathe, just breathe.

Finally she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin to look up at him, eyes filled with hurt.

"Do you..." She swallowed down the lump in her throat and pressed on before she lost her courage, or before she choked on her words as her chest squeezed. "Do you really see me that way? As a whore?"
#37
Should be fine, Spike said. 

They could leave discreetly, he said.

Except the next words he said were, "Come along, lover," and then she was swept up into his arms like a bride.

Fang let out a yelp of surprise, threw her arms around his neck to hold on, and her eyes went saucer-wide as he marched toward the door. Face flushing with heat, she squirmed in his grip and let out a strangled whisper-yell of, "What'reyoudoing?"

It was very clear what he was doing

Out the room they went and down the stairs, and this was sort of how she'd pictured them escaping out the window except that had been OUT THE WINDOW. Not down into the very occupied main room where several patrons we're taking meals. And while Fang had spoken of leaving with her head high and unashamed, that was very much not what happened. Absolutely mortified, she let out a groan and buried her face in the crook of his neck...and that did not help matters. Somehow, she managed to do a walk of shame without walking while Spike looked like the cat that got the canary and the cream.

And then... "Best night ever."

Noooooooo...

And had he thrown extra money on the counter?!

WAIT JUST A MINUTE.

Soon they were outside, and for several long minutes Fang could say nothing, lost for words entirely, her face still buried. When she finally found the words to speak, it came out a gritted, "Put me down, Spike."
#38
Fang was so distracted with the mess that she didn't notice Spike's staring, nor the effect it had on him. She was too busy waddling to the washroom, her clothes bundled in her arms, where she cleaned herself up as quickly as she could—while simultaneously trying not to panic.

Was she absolutely out of her mind?

She'd told him to do it. Begged him to, really, riding the high of pleasure and more than a little lingering religious guilt. But now that it was done and she was wiping away the consequences, she couldn't help but regret it. It was such an incredibly stupid thing to do when she was in no way prepared, equipped, or willing to carry a child. Children had always been a "maybe one day, maybe" that had leaned heavily on the "no" side of "maybe" and that hadn't magically changed—but goddess she couldn't help the gnawing guilt that she should just enjoy this just for the sake of enjoying it.

And now...goddess, the last thing she wanted was to deal with a bigger consequence when she wasn't even in her home country.

She stayed in the room a little longer than she needed just to calm down and wash her face with cold water, and when she felt decent enough she dressed and stepped back into the room. Her sarong reached her ankles, and her top was sleeveless and bared her midriff and pierced navel, tying around her neck. Not exactly Serendipity appropriate, but she imagined they could do something about that while they were here. She pulled her hair free of its braid, letting it fall around her shoulders in waves, courtesy of the overnight braid.

Spike was also dressed when she returned, and then he made that coy little quip at her that made her smile sheepishly.

"We'll see. I think maybe you have the right idea, though. It's not a big deal, right? So if we just act casual and normal, it'll be fine."

Right?
#39
Serendipity Riverlands / Re: Feast [M]
February 04, 2024, 07:59:34 AM
Quinn sucked in a deep, bracing breath with a small spike of shame at how easily they'd been baited—and taken it—and tried not to choke on the smoke. Which certainly did not help with the irritation. No, no, Synthia was absolutely right: they all needed to get it the fuck together if they were going to do this. Tyler was a walking pet peeve, but that was absolutely not an excuse to match the childishness and lose their own head.

And then there was the other. The nervous little lizard-like man currently chowing down who seemed unconcerned about anything else but free food, something he and the Connlaothian seemed to have in common. 

Wait, was he...was he using two knives?

Quinn rubbed at their temple, not wanting to admit aloud that maybe there was something to Tyler's barb, but...no. Surely everyone here had signed for a reason. Like actually being interested in this beast and feeling confident enough in their skills to handle it. The only person Quinn hadn't quite been able to get a read on was the Adelan.

Sliding a sidelong look over at Tyler as she helped herself to the Connlaothian's drink (was he going to just take that?), they looked back to Synthia. "Apologies. That won't happen again," they said, and repeated, "What else can you tell us about this creature?"
#40
Fang openly watched Spike as he walked about the room, able to appreciate his form even more now, but when he returned with his coat she couldn't help but give it a skeptical frown. She didn't have to try it on to know she'd be absolutely swimming in it and that it would keep her nice and hidden.

But.

She was also pretty sure anyone with half a brain could deduce who the short person under the big man-coat was, and also...

Unable to help it, she sank her face into her hands with a soft fit of laughter. "Oh, I should think that'll make me look even more conspicuous and ashamed! I may as well wear a tabard announcing my 'crime' and stand in the village square!" Lifting her head from her hands, still grinning, she reached out and caught Spike's arm, tugging him in closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," she said, and leaned up to kiss him. "You're so sweet to consider my comfort here, but..." A deep breath. "You're probably right. Maybe I should just...try not to care so much? Walk out with my head held high? It's not like we did anything unnatural. I'm not ashamed of you or what we shared. Truly."

She pushed up off the bed, rising to her feet—and then made a face when, as though on cue, gravity did its thing and his...evidence...trickled down her thigh.