Lyra sat high within that tree, her body relaxed against the branch, one leg dangling, the other bent at the knee, leather-clad boot to the bark. The other branch remained unoccupied but Lyra had her back covered this time by another companion, one who lay hidden in the long grasses at the base and, although her bow lay close at hand, she could trust him enough to guard while she focused on the sketches, tracings for the tattoos she was to do for Baby-face, her rich customer.
This was her largest commission after the one she had done of loviatar across a pale-skinned back a few months ago. She had to make this her best work yet and keep him sweet. Another pair of gloves she had found in the ice plane would give her the confidence and skill to ensure good work. Baby-face had more things of interest to her and, perhaps, once the tattoos were completed she could offer tasks, services....something....in exchange for a few more things she had seen and wanted.
She caught the glimmer of the yellow eyes looking up at her from below and she took a deep breath remembering another pair and made a light shiver recalling that old pact. Perhaps it was just as well that that one - she didn't want to put name to that one - appeared to no longer stalk the Cage.
After completing another of the tracings, she stored them to her pack, stretched silently and, listening carefully for sounds of sirines and unseelies, dryads and treants, she slid down from her perch. She patted the grey-furred head, scratching behind his ears and, staying deep within the long grasses, still rather amazed that he chose to stay with her a while, she padded quietly back towards the Cage and the parlour.
Lyra Fereth
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
She refused to budge, sat in the shallows of the lake, naked but for her faded underwear, feet and hands resting on the sandy bottom her thin malnourished frame shivering in the shallows. In her head, as she watched her mentor dive deep, she was naming him all things under the disk of the sky, planning how she would kill him if she survived this..
Poison in his water bottle...an arrow through the heart....death by dirty tattoo needle....slice to the throat from a rusty knife....no..no..better yet....make it long slow one by knocking him out with a heavy book, drag him to the gray waste, cut him open and offer the zombies and ghasts a spoon to eat from his intestines.
And then she found her legs pulled out from under her and she toppled back, her head going under the water. Coughing and spluttering she scrabbled to get her head to surface, spat out water from her mouth, her white fringe covering her eyes giving her a bedraggled look. Her arms flailing again, legs kicked out as she was grabbed, splashing, she tried to keep her feet firmly on the bottom. But he brought her out of her depth and her movements turned so that she clutched him tightly instead of pushing him away.
Her eyes were wide and showed her absolute fear...
Her panic had her digging in her nails holding on for dear life to his arms...
He held her arms in his and looked at her firmly, waiting for her to calm down...
After some moments, realising he was not going to let her go, her grip loosened abit and her breathing eased, still with eyes wide, her nostrils flared somewhat still, she looked directly to his eyes with her icey blue gaze mouthing 'well?'
He guided her deeper towards the falls, and she felt the force and power of the waterfall and the undercurrent pulling at her trailing legs, swirling about her body and between theirs and her anxiety increased. He told her then he was not going to endanger her life but was going to let go of her...
She shook her head anxiously, fingers tightening again and immediately lifted her legs now to wrap around his waist and legs, mouthing 'No!'
Eventually he drew her back towards the shore. As soon as her feet touched the bottom she loosened her hold and they both moved to sit upon the sand to dry off. She wrapped an arm about her skinny midrift, the other hugging her drawn up knees.
'That was lesson one....lesson two tomorrow' She closed her eyes and made a soft, near silent groan...
Definately the spoon and ghast
Poison in his water bottle...an arrow through the heart....death by dirty tattoo needle....slice to the throat from a rusty knife....no..no..better yet....make it long slow one by knocking him out with a heavy book, drag him to the gray waste, cut him open and offer the zombies and ghasts a spoon to eat from his intestines.
And then she found her legs pulled out from under her and she toppled back, her head going under the water. Coughing and spluttering she scrabbled to get her head to surface, spat out water from her mouth, her white fringe covering her eyes giving her a bedraggled look. Her arms flailing again, legs kicked out as she was grabbed, splashing, she tried to keep her feet firmly on the bottom. But he brought her out of her depth and her movements turned so that she clutched him tightly instead of pushing him away.
Her eyes were wide and showed her absolute fear...
Her panic had her digging in her nails holding on for dear life to his arms...
He held her arms in his and looked at her firmly, waiting for her to calm down...
After some moments, realising he was not going to let her go, her grip loosened abit and her breathing eased, still with eyes wide, her nostrils flared somewhat still, she looked directly to his eyes with her icey blue gaze mouthing 'well?'
He guided her deeper towards the falls, and she felt the force and power of the waterfall and the undercurrent pulling at her trailing legs, swirling about her body and between theirs and her anxiety increased. He told her then he was not going to endanger her life but was going to let go of her...
She shook her head anxiously, fingers tightening again and immediately lifted her legs now to wrap around his waist and legs, mouthing 'No!'
Eventually he drew her back towards the shore. As soon as her feet touched the bottom she loosened her hold and they both moved to sit upon the sand to dry off. She wrapped an arm about her skinny midrift, the other hugging her drawn up knees.
'That was lesson one....lesson two tomorrow' She closed her eyes and made a soft, near silent groan...
Definately the spoon and ghast
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
She knew she had to do this. His reasoning was sound. She had to overcome this weakness. But it didn't make it any easier.
The pool was less daunting, not so deep, though standing upright she had to rise to her toes to keep her chin above the waterline. But there was no current, no swirl of water, no risk of getting out of her depth. Slowly, she felt comfortable enough with his support of her to keep her floating. She listened to his words, regulated her breathing and kicked her legs more confidently, eventually agreeing to let go one of his arms, paddling like a dog with one hand, her other still gripping an arm. On his instruction, she turned and tried more by laying to her back, his hands underneath her shoulders.
All was going well until he made comment about her thin body that startled her. She lost her rhythm and started to sink, taking water into her mouth, her wet cheeks beginning to take on a flush. To keep her from sinking further he hugged arms about her and set her to her feet again, her back still to him. Her ribbon had come adrift and she felt his fingers to her hair, retying it before it fell to the pool floor. She scrabbled back up to stand again, turning sharply to look at him and checked the ribbon for herself.
'Don't let a small slip distract you ....you can do better and you know it'
Had that been a test? The warmth to her cheek gradually faded and her discomfort eased. They continued on with the lesson, her confidence and ability to stay afloat increasing until finally he let go of her. She still splashed around quite a bit, her strokes awkward but she now had a grin to her lips, beginning to enjoy herself, clicking her tongue repeatedly, her own sort of happy chatter.
Lesson over, they changed back to clothes. Standing by the door that led to the great hallway of the Gynasium, she mouthed to him 'Thank you, will not kill you now' and she winked, not sure if he caught all the words. Oddly, his next question was to ask her name and it took her aback. She had not realised she had not told him and offered that piece of information freely, the beginnings of trust was there. She was no longer 'little girl' to him, she was Lyra. He told her that her training was nearly done and that soon she could accompany him on a job, she nodded eagerly. He then spoke of forthcoming absences, and she made a wry smile, she was used to his absences, perhaps might not swear at him by note on his return the next time.
The pool was less daunting, not so deep, though standing upright she had to rise to her toes to keep her chin above the waterline. But there was no current, no swirl of water, no risk of getting out of her depth. Slowly, she felt comfortable enough with his support of her to keep her floating. She listened to his words, regulated her breathing and kicked her legs more confidently, eventually agreeing to let go one of his arms, paddling like a dog with one hand, her other still gripping an arm. On his instruction, she turned and tried more by laying to her back, his hands underneath her shoulders.
All was going well until he made comment about her thin body that startled her. She lost her rhythm and started to sink, taking water into her mouth, her wet cheeks beginning to take on a flush. To keep her from sinking further he hugged arms about her and set her to her feet again, her back still to him. Her ribbon had come adrift and she felt his fingers to her hair, retying it before it fell to the pool floor. She scrabbled back up to stand again, turning sharply to look at him and checked the ribbon for herself.
'Don't let a small slip distract you ....you can do better and you know it'
Had that been a test? The warmth to her cheek gradually faded and her discomfort eased. They continued on with the lesson, her confidence and ability to stay afloat increasing until finally he let go of her. She still splashed around quite a bit, her strokes awkward but she now had a grin to her lips, beginning to enjoy herself, clicking her tongue repeatedly, her own sort of happy chatter.
Lesson over, they changed back to clothes. Standing by the door that led to the great hallway of the Gynasium, she mouthed to him 'Thank you, will not kill you now' and she winked, not sure if he caught all the words. Oddly, his next question was to ask her name and it took her aback. She had not realised she had not told him and offered that piece of information freely, the beginnings of trust was there. She was no longer 'little girl' to him, she was Lyra. He told her that her training was nearly done and that soon she could accompany him on a job, she nodded eagerly. He then spoke of forthcoming absences, and she made a wry smile, she was used to his absences, perhaps might not swear at him by note on his return the next time.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
He wanted to make a late change. The man did not realise the work that went into the tracing, his requirements were not standard. No matter....she would redo that tattoo image. His order was going to take a couple of sessions anyway. She crumpled the old tracing and left it to the side of the table, motioned for him to strip and lie to the bench while she readied the inks and needles, filling the small bulbous sacs attached to the sharp instruments with various ink colours.
Once he was bared she offered him the herb, it took a while for it to take influence but that didn't stop Lyra from beginning the first tattoo. She placed the tracing to the right side of his chest and pierced his skin with the sharp fine needle, making tiny dots, lifting and following the pattern upon the tracing until slowly the outline of the rose and its regular lines took shape.
She switched colour after a while and moved to the red ochre ink, filling in the pattern with the bright rose red of the flower. The image took about a half hour to complete, the motif was simple enough: squares within squares, some with curved edges, diagonally placed upon each reducing to that final central crescent moon. The flower petals thick distorted pentagons with diamonds for extra leaves. Once finished she moved to take a fingerload of grease from a tub to the side and daubed it upon his skin to prevent it tautening.
She glanced to Baby-face to check on his state while she inspected her work, nodding satisfied at her results. Those fine gloves of the artist she had donned really helped her to produce her best. On to the next...
She refreshed the inks, changed needles and after laying the second tracing across the man's left chest to collar she began the fresh piercings slowly dotting his skin, each time squeezing the droplets of ink from the sacs, forcing it beneath the skin, working the outline of the creature and the swirls of lines that ran up and across his collar bone. She leaned over the drugged man, deep in concentration, applying the ink with precision and care. She changed to another deep colour ink to allow for a little more shading to the lion's features, though most of the pattern was a sweep of rightward forming lines and swirls without much colour.
Another hour and Lyra now was herself becoming tired. She blinked, stretched and paused to inspect her work, lifting the tracing, daubing that grease again. Before she set about the last tattoo for the session, she reached to her pocket and partook of a small piece of the redflower herb that would keep her coordination of hand and eye at peak.
The scrollwork embroidery of the hourglass tattoo she layed more carefully across this part of the man's anatomy. The skin across his ribs being closer to bone, less fatty tissue. But the sannish still kept him numbed from the pain. Lyra smirked. useful drug that one. Difficult to do professional job with a customer who stubbornly braved without and ended up squealing and wriggling anyway. Although the motif was still only medium of size, this last tattoo for the session took again an hour. She used only two colours to keep a simple effect, the intricate embroidery and lattice of the hourglass shape needing few colours to be interesting. He had chosen his designs well she thought.
She applied alcohol and more grease to each tattoo to ensure the 'wounds' cleansed and gestured with her hands how he should take care of them for the next couple of days, touching his armour that lay to the side and shaking her head, then to her own light cloth tunic to indicate that he should stick to light cloth until the sensitivity had died down. She raised two fingers and pointed to the parlour and then to his neck and back. She would be ready with his last tracing tattoo in a couple more days. As he redressed, Lyra cleaned up her instruments and inks, sorting the bottles and tools neatly back to the shelves before sliding back the curtain that had given them the privacy from Lervak's watchful eyes and other customers who might enter.
Baby-face offered her a hand which she shook businesslike before withdrawing her own promptly, thereby preventing him bringing it to his lips in some attempt at gentlemanly behaviour. He left the parlour, still in a euphoric, numbed state but stable enough. Lyra turned to tidy up some more before heading to her attic room.
Once he was bared she offered him the herb, it took a while for it to take influence but that didn't stop Lyra from beginning the first tattoo. She placed the tracing to the right side of his chest and pierced his skin with the sharp fine needle, making tiny dots, lifting and following the pattern upon the tracing until slowly the outline of the rose and its regular lines took shape.
She switched colour after a while and moved to the red ochre ink, filling in the pattern with the bright rose red of the flower. The image took about a half hour to complete, the motif was simple enough: squares within squares, some with curved edges, diagonally placed upon each reducing to that final central crescent moon. The flower petals thick distorted pentagons with diamonds for extra leaves. Once finished she moved to take a fingerload of grease from a tub to the side and daubed it upon his skin to prevent it tautening.
She glanced to Baby-face to check on his state while she inspected her work, nodding satisfied at her results. Those fine gloves of the artist she had donned really helped her to produce her best. On to the next...
She refreshed the inks, changed needles and after laying the second tracing across the man's left chest to collar she began the fresh piercings slowly dotting his skin, each time squeezing the droplets of ink from the sacs, forcing it beneath the skin, working the outline of the creature and the swirls of lines that ran up and across his collar bone. She leaned over the drugged man, deep in concentration, applying the ink with precision and care. She changed to another deep colour ink to allow for a little more shading to the lion's features, though most of the pattern was a sweep of rightward forming lines and swirls without much colour.
Another hour and Lyra now was herself becoming tired. She blinked, stretched and paused to inspect her work, lifting the tracing, daubing that grease again. Before she set about the last tattoo for the session, she reached to her pocket and partook of a small piece of the redflower herb that would keep her coordination of hand and eye at peak.
The scrollwork embroidery of the hourglass tattoo she layed more carefully across this part of the man's anatomy. The skin across his ribs being closer to bone, less fatty tissue. But the sannish still kept him numbed from the pain. Lyra smirked. useful drug that one. Difficult to do professional job with a customer who stubbornly braved without and ended up squealing and wriggling anyway. Although the motif was still only medium of size, this last tattoo for the session took again an hour. She used only two colours to keep a simple effect, the intricate embroidery and lattice of the hourglass shape needing few colours to be interesting. He had chosen his designs well she thought.
She applied alcohol and more grease to each tattoo to ensure the 'wounds' cleansed and gestured with her hands how he should take care of them for the next couple of days, touching his armour that lay to the side and shaking her head, then to her own light cloth tunic to indicate that he should stick to light cloth until the sensitivity had died down. She raised two fingers and pointed to the parlour and then to his neck and back. She would be ready with his last tracing tattoo in a couple more days. As he redressed, Lyra cleaned up her instruments and inks, sorting the bottles and tools neatly back to the shelves before sliding back the curtain that had given them the privacy from Lervak's watchful eyes and other customers who might enter.
Baby-face offered her a hand which she shook businesslike before withdrawing her own promptly, thereby preventing him bringing it to his lips in some attempt at gentlemanly behaviour. He left the parlour, still in a euphoric, numbed state but stable enough. Lyra turned to tidy up some more before heading to her attic room.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The hunt had taken its toll on her. She was not as fit as her companion in this venture seemed to be and perhaps the draining heat of the Abyss had contributed too, unused to that plane as she was. Although she was now earning more coin from her art and her training, it was sporadic and used mostly to buy health kit and arrow. It was not quite hand to mouth anymore but it was still tough. She had never been one to accept charity from the Bleakers, tending to avoid them and fend for herself, no matter how difficult. Lervak gave her roof in exchange for work, but he had long since stopped providing more.
She watched the pair of elves converse, circling around each other verbally, an attempt to delve into reasons for her own and Black-scars aid in the venture...test and withdraw, parrying for information indirectly. Lyra simply remained quiet and distant, avoiding staying too close to the other extremely pale elven girl...Snow-skin...as they had met before. She kept herself cowled and crouched in the dark, checking her arrows, keeping eye contact to a minimum and shifting position when the girl thought to come too close. She ensured also the shaped patterns she made with her fingers in the dust of the ground, were not left for Snow-skin's viewing. She smirked to herself occasionally when the nature of the conversation took a turn in another direction, a little amazed at how quickly it could turn between strangers that were obviously not of the Hive. She could see the misunderstanding immediately, however and let them play it out. All the better to learn of both during this game of words.
The three crouched, guarding the place where the man lay hidden. Not 'prey', not 'prisoner', not 'quarry', Lyra would only name it 'opportunity' at this point. The manhunt itself had been worthy activity alone...'Giants are fun... but a man hunt is far better'...indeed. After a momentary feeling of disappointment when hope for another sort of venture was curtailed as the alarm sounded from the Lady's Ward, her eyes sparkled again at thought of this kind of hunt. Lyra followed, to find the Harmonium attempting to move people along from hindering their attempts to find the escapee. There were many adventurers and bounty hunters, helpers and do-gooders around flapping, fussing and quizzing the guards. Amidst it all, her hand was taken in firm grip and with grins upon both elvish faces, the shadows were theirs as they slipped into the barracks and stalked around the halls searching. 'I think I might know where he is...' Others were there searching, but the pair trod quietly and silently, heading off quickly to seek that 'opportunity'.
Lyra was at disadvantage to attempt using the situation to advantage without speech, in that difficult terrain and with the need for some urgency as the pair knew that others were heading that way. Luckily, when the cave seemed near bursting with bodies (one lyra noted being Crimson) and the escapee seemed to be considering the option of taking step to to drop into the abyss of the Abyssal cave, the pair were sufficiently in sync by this time for the one to do the verbal negotiation and the other to provide the distraction of darkness. This allowed the opportunity for the 'opportunity' to escape from his would-be captors.
Twas unfortunate that two others towed along but the man knew them and seemed at ease to be led with them helping. With occasional guard alerted, the five ran fast, hid and dodged through the streets until they could reach safe position. Lyra unlocked the door to one seemingly empty house and the man promptly collapsed within exhausted while the two 'friends' discussed bringing others to assist, the one-eyed male friend eventually departing to leave the three elves, warily guarding and regarding each other in the dark streets of Undersigil.
She watched the pair of elves converse, circling around each other verbally, an attempt to delve into reasons for her own and Black-scars aid in the venture...test and withdraw, parrying for information indirectly. Lyra simply remained quiet and distant, avoiding staying too close to the other extremely pale elven girl...Snow-skin...as they had met before. She kept herself cowled and crouched in the dark, checking her arrows, keeping eye contact to a minimum and shifting position when the girl thought to come too close. She ensured also the shaped patterns she made with her fingers in the dust of the ground, were not left for Snow-skin's viewing. She smirked to herself occasionally when the nature of the conversation took a turn in another direction, a little amazed at how quickly it could turn between strangers that were obviously not of the Hive. She could see the misunderstanding immediately, however and let them play it out. All the better to learn of both during this game of words.
The three crouched, guarding the place where the man lay hidden. Not 'prey', not 'prisoner', not 'quarry', Lyra would only name it 'opportunity' at this point. The manhunt itself had been worthy activity alone...'Giants are fun... but a man hunt is far better'...indeed. After a momentary feeling of disappointment when hope for another sort of venture was curtailed as the alarm sounded from the Lady's Ward, her eyes sparkled again at thought of this kind of hunt. Lyra followed, to find the Harmonium attempting to move people along from hindering their attempts to find the escapee. There were many adventurers and bounty hunters, helpers and do-gooders around flapping, fussing and quizzing the guards. Amidst it all, her hand was taken in firm grip and with grins upon both elvish faces, the shadows were theirs as they slipped into the barracks and stalked around the halls searching. 'I think I might know where he is...' Others were there searching, but the pair trod quietly and silently, heading off quickly to seek that 'opportunity'.
Lyra was at disadvantage to attempt using the situation to advantage without speech, in that difficult terrain and with the need for some urgency as the pair knew that others were heading that way. Luckily, when the cave seemed near bursting with bodies (one lyra noted being Crimson) and the escapee seemed to be considering the option of taking step to to drop into the abyss of the Abyssal cave, the pair were sufficiently in sync by this time for the one to do the verbal negotiation and the other to provide the distraction of darkness. This allowed the opportunity for the 'opportunity' to escape from his would-be captors.
Twas unfortunate that two others towed along but the man knew them and seemed at ease to be led with them helping. With occasional guard alerted, the five ran fast, hid and dodged through the streets until they could reach safe position. Lyra unlocked the door to one seemingly empty house and the man promptly collapsed within exhausted while the two 'friends' discussed bringing others to assist, the one-eyed male friend eventually departing to leave the three elves, warily guarding and regarding each other in the dark streets of Undersigil.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
A stranger in red turban lay to the ground where the dogai assassin had slain him. Lyra considered leaving him there but his clothes, multicoloured and stylish though wild in fashion suggested at wealth. She patted his pockets and hearing the sound of gold chinking to gold she was satisfied that this was perhaps worthy of aid, that her aid might be repaid at least if not further opportunity forthcoming.
Deep in the swampy shadows she withdrew a life-coin and using the technique she had seen once upon another elf, passed it across the man's lips to revive him. He groaned after jumping to action rather fast after his recovery. Lyra held out her hand, palm up, expectantly, her eyes narrowed.
He looked at her curiously for a while, then took his both kukris to his left hand to clear his right and, finally... he slapped her hand with his right hand,a wide grin on his face, a gesture that suggested to Lyra that he was either jerk, idiot or something else entirely. She withdrew her hand quickly and rubbed two fingers together with her thumb, thrusting her hand out insistently once more.
He seemed thoughtful for while... rubbing his chin with his right hand... as he let the hand fall to roughly his chest level he snapped his fingers together
'Aha! I know, you want payment, yes? Well I know just the right way to pay' She did not trust this one and slowly lifted her bow, reaching for arrow, her narrowed eyes now challenging him, to make the right sort of payment.
'Fine, you'll get one kiss. On the cheek, no more... I'm no jinkskirt' the man smugly turned his cheek to her, though clearly only enough to keep her under his gaze. In response, Lyra slowly raised her bow to take aim upon him, though they were only a few feet apart, she drew back the arrow two thirds of the way. The Barmy-turban made a slight smirk and rather than doing much else about it, he took a few steps closer, an action that made it much more difficult for her to use the bow.
But there came further dogai attack that split them apart. Hearing the steps and feeling the first blow of dogai chiv, Lyra slipped to the shadows and watched as the barmy-sod failed to their spells and blows. After he had fallen again and the attackers loped off, she reached into his pockets this time and withdrew an amount of the gold that was her due. She padded quietly away from the barmy-sod's corpse and the swamp of Minauros without looking back.
Deep in the swampy shadows she withdrew a life-coin and using the technique she had seen once upon another elf, passed it across the man's lips to revive him. He groaned after jumping to action rather fast after his recovery. Lyra held out her hand, palm up, expectantly, her eyes narrowed.
He looked at her curiously for a while, then took his both kukris to his left hand to clear his right and, finally... he slapped her hand with his right hand,a wide grin on his face, a gesture that suggested to Lyra that he was either jerk, idiot or something else entirely. She withdrew her hand quickly and rubbed two fingers together with her thumb, thrusting her hand out insistently once more.
He seemed thoughtful for while... rubbing his chin with his right hand... as he let the hand fall to roughly his chest level he snapped his fingers together
'Aha! I know, you want payment, yes? Well I know just the right way to pay' She did not trust this one and slowly lifted her bow, reaching for arrow, her narrowed eyes now challenging him, to make the right sort of payment.
'Fine, you'll get one kiss. On the cheek, no more... I'm no jinkskirt' the man smugly turned his cheek to her, though clearly only enough to keep her under his gaze. In response, Lyra slowly raised her bow to take aim upon him, though they were only a few feet apart, she drew back the arrow two thirds of the way. The Barmy-turban made a slight smirk and rather than doing much else about it, he took a few steps closer, an action that made it much more difficult for her to use the bow.
But there came further dogai attack that split them apart. Hearing the steps and feeling the first blow of dogai chiv, Lyra slipped to the shadows and watched as the barmy-sod failed to their spells and blows. After he had fallen again and the attackers loped off, she reached into his pockets this time and withdrew an amount of the gold that was her due. She padded quietly away from the barmy-sod's corpse and the swamp of Minauros without looking back.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
She was more guarded this time and would not make the same mistake as before. Three questions asked in return for two pieces of information of her own, though still guardedly offered.
'How came you by those black scars?'
'How came you by that black bow?'
'How came you by that beautiful black panther?'
The first was ...avoided..postponed? She let that one pass...for now. The second depended apparently upon her age but she found out the bow had been gift from an employer, though the elf was being canny about the details. She did not press as she did not wish him to press.
For the third, she received an elaborate account, finally something he seemed to have no qualm to reveal and tell. She reached out to touch the creature in question and the beast opened his eyes where he lay to sniff Lyra, his massive head turning to look into her eyes searchingly, his glowing golden orbs showing the great intelligence he possessed. The creature might have seen something of her desire, something that had been lost long ago and her new one as yet, but newly forming. Lyra made the barest whispered gasp as the panther offered his belly for her, rolling over and against her companion's legs. She leaned further to touch his soft silky coat, lending her fingers to trail and stroke his black pelt.
She could see that the two were well at ease in that environ, more so than herself. And when the heavy booted footsteps of an approaching human made the panther and the elves raise their heads, Lyra's hands flicked immediately to raise cowl and hood. She made her near silent farewell to the pair once she had slipped to the shadows and then departed.
'How came you by those black scars?'
'How came you by that black bow?'
'How came you by that beautiful black panther?'
The first was ...avoided..postponed? She let that one pass...for now. The second depended apparently upon her age but she found out the bow had been gift from an employer, though the elf was being canny about the details. She did not press as she did not wish him to press.
For the third, she received an elaborate account, finally something he seemed to have no qualm to reveal and tell. She reached out to touch the creature in question and the beast opened his eyes where he lay to sniff Lyra, his massive head turning to look into her eyes searchingly, his glowing golden orbs showing the great intelligence he possessed. The creature might have seen something of her desire, something that had been lost long ago and her new one as yet, but newly forming. Lyra made the barest whispered gasp as the panther offered his belly for her, rolling over and against her companion's legs. She leaned further to touch his soft silky coat, lending her fingers to trail and stroke his black pelt.
She could see that the two were well at ease in that environ, more so than herself. And when the heavy booted footsteps of an approaching human made the panther and the elves raise their heads, Lyra's hands flicked immediately to raise cowl and hood. She made her near silent farewell to the pair once she had slipped to the shadows and then departed.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Sitting at a quiet booth within the Foul Old Spirit Inn, Lyra passed the old man the sack of components; the five treant branches, the three spider silk glands and the same amount of shadow material. He inspected the items and nodded, emitting that dry cough, telling her that what she had brought should be sufficient. He asked her to demonstrate her draw of her most used bow, to its full extent to assess the size and bend of the wood required that would fit. They began negotiation of the price and Lyra counted out the downpayment of jink requested. The sum left her coin purse light but she did not hesitate from passing the gold over.
The old man told her that she should start hunting down a number of high gems in the meantime else she would need to pay him more jink to use his stock and told her to catch up with him in another two to three weeks. Lyra nodded, made to spit once more to her hand to make the deal but the old man questioned her need for this gesture each and everytime they met and negotiated. With a wink and shake of the head she replied, but did lift her fingertip to her lip to reiterate the need for discretion. He did not hesitate in agreeing to that.
Now it was just a question of waiting and hunting for good gems.
The old man told her that she should start hunting down a number of high gems in the meantime else she would need to pay him more jink to use his stock and told her to catch up with him in another two to three weeks. Lyra nodded, made to spit once more to her hand to make the deal but the old man questioned her need for this gesture each and everytime they met and negotiated. With a wink and shake of the head she replied, but did lift her fingertip to her lip to reiterate the need for discretion. He did not hesitate in agreeing to that.
Now it was just a question of waiting and hunting for good gems.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
She reduced her price....she had been enchanted enough to reduce her price. The first verse caught her, the second partially charmed her and she offered the discount in return for the third. Each verse brought him a step closer and by the end of the third she could feel his breath upon her upturned face. She ducked aside and away and received an apology that confused her even more, for she had not expected one after the attempt at an advance. She didn't feel threatened too much, she could handle him but it was the fact that she let herself be enchanted by the song that concerned her. Many mistook her for harlot. She was used to it, most didn't bother with sweet song to try for what they wanted. Honey-voice made no further attempt and they finalised the negotiation for the tattoo, at reduced price, for him to return in three days.
A day later and she met him again, a short hunt that ended badly and the dustmen eventually collected their bodies....a failure on her behalf that did not sit well with her. Exiting the mortuary, as usual the Hive Ward was raining and the pair took shelter in a nearby house. Drying her long white locks by the fire, she found herself requesting another song and this time she brought out her flute to accompany the verse with her own music. She remained guarded against his easy questions...the simplicity of this art, this shared art she found she enjoyed and, though dangerous, she wanted to enjoy more. She gave to him what he seemed to want, in exchange for that moment, mouthing the word she believed he wanted to hear her say, unsure whether she meant it or not, unused to its usage.
A day later and she met him again, a short hunt that ended badly and the dustmen eventually collected their bodies....a failure on her behalf that did not sit well with her. Exiting the mortuary, as usual the Hive Ward was raining and the pair took shelter in a nearby house. Drying her long white locks by the fire, she found herself requesting another song and this time she brought out her flute to accompany the verse with her own music. She remained guarded against his easy questions...the simplicity of this art, this shared art she found she enjoyed and, though dangerous, she wanted to enjoy more. She gave to him what he seemed to want, in exchange for that moment, mouthing the word she believed he wanted to hear her say, unsure whether she meant it or not, unused to its usage.
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*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
For each barrier she raised he had an answer that smoothed her confusion and uncertainty.
'You do not know me'
I hope to. It is hard to look beyond walls that I refuse to break. Your walls are mighty. But they are not mine to take down.
'You not like what you may see'
Let me be the judge of that.
'Do not seek to change what must be'
I will not. Forcing a rose to open does nothing but bad and is nothing but wrong.
'Not to know is weakness'
Although he had no idea of her, he allowed her to explore without pressing. His manner calm and undemanding, though his passion was evident, so was his control. Her reasons for allowing it remained her own and unexplained. She mimicked what she had learnt through seeing the jinkskirts of the Hive, day-in, day-out plying their trade, but her performance was poor and he saw through it, questioned whether she truly wanted this. He let her set the pace but in contrast to her usual nimble, swift, neat and precise actions in many things, her pace was incredibly slow and awkward at this.
'You do not know me'
I hope to. It is hard to look beyond walls that I refuse to break. Your walls are mighty. But they are not mine to take down.
'You not like what you may see'
Let me be the judge of that.
'Do not seek to change what must be'
I will not. Forcing a rose to open does nothing but bad and is nothing but wrong.
'Not to know is weakness'
Although he had no idea of her, he allowed her to explore without pressing. His manner calm and undemanding, though his passion was evident, so was his control. Her reasons for allowing it remained her own and unexplained. She mimicked what she had learnt through seeing the jinkskirts of the Hive, day-in, day-out plying their trade, but her performance was poor and he saw through it, questioned whether she truly wanted this. He let her set the pace but in contrast to her usual nimble, swift, neat and precise actions in many things, her pace was incredibly slow and awkward at this.