Running From the World... [Archive]

Rheawien

03-31-07, 05:08 PM

((Closed to Skyler Manfield. All bunnies approved by both parties. BEWARE YE YOUNGINS: there is some sexual content inside. Yeah, like that will stop anybody from reading. :P))

Rheawien was out to get drunk and she had all the necessary ingredients; money, her depraved self and a place that served hard liquor.

The Hammerhead was a dump, but then again so were all of the inns and taverns in the Slums. They all had their more or less colorful names and their rundown exteriors and their gloomy atmospheres that made you feel as welcome as a harlot on a Sunday Mass. This particular dump was located at the end of a blind dirt alley, in a two-storey brick building whose tiled roof seemed in a rather decent shape when compared to the façade from which the plaster fell off years ago. Most of the windows were hidden behind wooden blinds, but they too were bitten by the tooth of time, letting though sporadic beams of artificial light from the inside. But Rheawien didn’t come here because of the looks. In fact, there was no specific reason why she picked this inn over the others. It was simply the first one she ran into once she decided to get hammered.

She knew that inebriation wasn’t an answer to everything. She knew that it wasn’t an answer to anything. All it ever did was make you blunder like an idiot and dwell on regrets over events long past. But tonight she wanted to dwell on the past. It was so long since she felt happy, since life wasn’t just drifting from one failure to the next like a castaway on a crummy raft. Her life wasn’t falling apart. It fell apart already and she was just picking up the pieces and moving along. Her home was lost; both the real one in Violein and the new one she found within the walls of the Brotherhood’s Sanctuary. Her friends – if she ever actually had such a thing as a ‘friend’ – were scattered, lost, wrapped up in their own lives with their own friends. Her love life was nonexistent; the love of her life turned out not to be the love of her life, and the woman she fell in love with afterwards left without a trace, leaving behind a craving Rheawien couldn’t satiate.

If all of that wasn’t a reason to get really tipsy and wake up in some gutter, then nothing ever would be. At least, while she was drunk, some of these ‘good old days’ would replay in her mind and she would pester some stranger with soliloquies until they kicked her out.

Her entrance into the common room of The Hammerhead didn’t go unnoticed, but given her rather attractive outfit, there was little chance that it could go unnoticed. Dressed in a pair of black leather pants that snuggled her legs like second skin and a provocative crimson-and-black tank top, Rhea captured quite a few eyes throughout the room. Unfortunately, as usual, most of those eyes were male, and Rheawien wasn’t a big fan of males anymore. Not after Sarah. So they all wound up looking at what they couldn’t get. Helping to get the ‘what-you-can’t-get’ message across even clearer were a whip on her right hip, a katana on her left and a pair of louring brown eyes.

Sitting on one of the stools at the far end of the bar, the white-haired woman waited for the barkeep to approach her, ignoring the eyes that crawled all over her back like spiders with hairy legs. The man on the other side of the oak bar looked far too young to be the owner of the establishment, but then again, he did have that keen, greedy look in his black eyes that gave him the look of a knave. The dexterous set of long fingers only further supported the theory that the man came to possess this inn by some cloak-and-dagger scheme. Rheawien didn’t care even if he killed the damn Steward of Corone, as long as he served her a drink.

“You have quite an audience there, miss,” the man said, gesturing towards the leering patrons that still beheld her. The barkeep himself couldn’t prevent his eyes from slipping down from Rhea’s face and venturing to her cleavage, if only for a second.

“Just get me a bottle of Knife’s Firewater,” Rhea replied, plucking the gold pouch from one of the small satchels on her waist and spilling its contents over the surface of the bar. She found the Salvarian hard liquor to be much to her liking lately. Knife Firewater originated from Knife’s Edge; it was a clear, almost odorless beverage with enough alcohol to be used as both a disinfectant and a knockout salve. She probably wouldn’t need even half of the bottle to pass out, but it was better to be safe then sorry.

“That’s some hard stuff,” the barkeep said, scooping about two dozen of shiny ducats into the palm of his other hand.

“It’s a hard life,” the white-haired bitch responded, collecting the remainder of her gold.

skyler manfield

03-31-07, 09:14 PM

Was she stupid? More than anywhere else she could have gone in Althanas, or even in Corone, Radasanth was an almost guaranteed place for Deacon to find her. But Skyler was homesick - something she never thought was possible in this lifetime. Homesick for a rundown heap of brothels and shitty taverns? Homesick for pickpockets and cutthroats? Sure enough though, she had found herself on the road for "home" without even a second thought to where she was headed until she'd already passed through the gates.

At least she was smart enough to still be in disguise. Mousy hair pulled into a tight short ponytail at the nape of her long neck, shapeless tunic over leather breeches a couple sizes too large, small breasts strapped down with bandages held tight to her chest - all of these things left her looking more like a half-grown, half-starved man than she already did. Oh well, at least people weren't likely to notice her. Not that they would anyway so long as she was cautious. Her uncanny ability to walk around completely unnoticed - virtually invisible to those who weren't keenly aware of their surroundings - was one which had kept her alive thus far.

And the one place she was certain of being among those who were most certainly not keenly aware of their surroundings was at a bar. And even better was to choose the Hammerhead - a rundown taproom known specifically for the discretion of its owner and patrons to turn a blind eye to any who entered it's half-rotted doors.

Skyler glanced around the nasty inn, giving her surroundings a quick once over before finding an empty stool at the bar. She nodded at the barkeep, who frowned for a moment as though he though he might recognize her, but she simply stared blankly at him and he shrugged and turned to attend to the voluptuous woman at the end of the bar. She was certainly out of place here - much too clean, and definitely too pretty. Skyler noted the well-worn weapons at her ample hips though, and figured the woman must be used to unwanted attention.

Finally, the barkeep finished with the white-haired beauty and turned to Skyler with a tired nod. Again he surveyed her face, more thoroughly this time, but if he recognized her he wasn't saying a word.

"Give me whatever you have on tap," she stated simply, the given routine at a bar like this, rather than politely asking for one's order. He nodded, glancing back at her again, and she glared at him. Shit. He definitely recognized her. Goddamn, but this was a bad idea.

Rheawien

04-01-07, 07:57 PM

Rhea downed two shot glasses of Knife’s Firewater before she began pondering whether or not she should abandon the jigger and just attack the bottle directly. It was probably just liquor talking; this particular brand had a habit of making the consumer crave for more with each sip. There were other side-effects as well, like the one closely associated with the name. They didn’t call it Knife’s Firewater just because it originated in Knife’s Edge, but also because each shot you took went right through the middle of you like a heated blade. And then there was the fact that you rarely puked after drinking it. All of it combined made Rheawien respect this brand of liquor. Perhaps out of this respect she decided to continue ingesting it one shot glass at a time.

Somewhere around the fourth glass, when her face already felt as if it was standing against a furnace, the barkeep approached her again. The white-haired woman reckoned he was probably going to give her some ‘advice’, telling her she should take it easy, but instead the man placed a tall empty glass before her. Retrieving one of the bottles from behind the counter – the ornate one that simply screamed Raiaera – the man proceeded to uncork it and pour some of the elven wine into the glass.

“I didn’t order that,” Rheawien said, just as cold as uninterested as when she first spoke to the man. If he was trying to be a gentleman and give her one on the house, he could shove it up his behind for all she cared. She drank elven wine when life was good and made sense, lavishing in its velvety smoothness. Nowadays she needed something that slapped her like a bitch she was.

“Oh, I know,” the barkeep said with a suave smirk, stopping to pour only when the wine neared the brim of the fragile glass. “This comes with the compliments of those gentlemen over there. They would very much like you to join them,” he added, gesturing towards one of the occupied tables.

Rhea’s first reaction was to either ignore the gesture of these ‘gentlemen’ or walk to their table only to throw the wine into their faces. After another shot of the ‘Knife’ she opted for a compromise between the two. Turning on her stool and picking up the glass of wine, she looked over the patrons of The Hammerhead. It didn’t take her long to notice her benefactors - the trio of rather tipsy men immediately noted her and raised their glasses towards her. They seemed like local scum, small time crooks that thought themselves the kings of the known world just because they controlled one or two blocks of the Slums. Raising her own glass and throwing in a smarmy smile that the drunken bastards thought as compliant, Rheawien elicited a cheer of approval from the three. Their jubilance was short lived though. Instead of bringing the glass to her rosy lips, the half-elf turned it over, pouring its contest over the hardwood floor. The voices of the three died down, only to be replaced by the snickering of the remainder of the common room.

Not waiting to see the faces of the three change from surprise to anger, the white-haired woman turned her back to the rest of the room once again, pushing the glass back to the barkeep. “Ouch. Talk about a kick in the crotch,” the sly man on the other side of the counter said with a smirk. “I don’t think they’ll appreciate it though. You do know who you’re messing with?”

“No,” Rheawien responded, stone cold and pouring herself another shot. She spoke before she drank it down. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t know. Should you?” the barkeeper shrugged his shoulders. Rhea cast a look over her shoulder, her eyes skimming over the agitated trio that didn’t seem too happy with the results their ‘kindness’ produced. They looked like regular goons, all brawn and vacant glances that almost allowed her to see straight through their empty heads. It made the cocky woman smile.

“Nah, they’re more drunk then I am.”

skyler manfield

04-01-07, 10:49 PM

The barkeep set the foaming tankard in front of her, but this time did not meet her eyes - instead he glanced across at three men gathered around a table in the middle of the room leering at the beauty across the bar from her. They looked at him, and then at Skyler and nodded almost imperceptibly. Skyler frowned slightly, but took her ale and sipped it. If they recognized her, surely they wouldn't say anything - that was the point of coming to the Hammerhead.

Either way, she'd be stupid not to keep an eye on them all. Her back was to the door, which felt vulnerable, but there was a grimy mirror at the end of the bar, and she also watched the mens' faces and the flames on the hearth. All would be clues if someone opened the door behind her.

She laughed to herself as the woman received a bottle of fine wine from the three who'd recognized Skyler, and unceremoniously dumped her glass of it on the floor. Well, that would distract them for a while from Skyler.
The barkeep was occupied with laughing at them and warning the white-haired woman against them - Skyler thought she recognized them as local cutthroats. It wasn't likely they'd be able to stand up to the woman if she actually knew how to use her weapons.

A breeze ruffled Skyler's hair, fluffing the collar at her throat and she stiffened, willing herself to disappear. The three at the table, as well as the bartender looked up at the newcomer and then all eyes went to Skyler, who immediately glanced at the mirror.

Fuck.

Deacon, of all the people in Radasanth, the leader of the Syndicate, the one man who wanted Skyler's head on a platter (or her tied down to his bed, she figured) just had to walk into the bar she'd chosen. What kind of karma was this? She'd never killed a soul what didn't deserve the death that was coming to them. His head turned to look at Skyler, and she could feel his eyes on her back.

Better plan quick.

Skyler's body and mind moved faster than she could keep up, and within moments she had her hands at the slim waist of the white-haired beauty and her lips at the woman's ear.

"Please just play along," she whispered cryptically, nipping at the fleshy lobe in the process to promote the image she wanted to convey, "Or we'll both be dead in a moment, I swear it to you."

Grabbing a handful of white locks, Skyler pulled the woman's head back almost violently and began to kiss her. The girls at the brothel had put on shows like this for the men all the time, and the men had treated the girls worse, so Skyler, for all her inexperience, wasn't running completely blind in this case.

"I'm sure you understand that a girl's got to do what she must to live," she paused, murmuring into the woman's mouth, tasting of hot liquor, "I think we're about to have to go, and you get to come with me."

Rheawien

04-02-07, 09:39 AM

Truth be told, even though Rheawien came to The Hammerhead primarily to intoxicate herself, there was an additional reason why she chose to stay in the taproom instead of seeking the solace her rented room. The white-haired vixen hoped for some amusement, something that would distract her, keep her occupied. She knew there was very little chance of meeting a woman that was interested in the same thing she was; not in a fleabag inn such as this one. But there would always be plenty of drunken ruffians – such as the blockhead triplets – that would make a pass at her, enabling her to shoot their hopes down mercilessly. Sometimes this led to brawls, sometimes to a lot of name calling; all in all, good clean fun. However, instead of one of the usual scenarios, the night’s events decided to take a different course and drop a bomb into her lap. And not just figuratively.

Rhea was caught in one her daydreams, her eyes hazy and beholding something much more distant and incorporeal then the bottle before her, when she felt fingers crawling over her waistline. Her reflexes kicked in... Well, they would’ve kicked in instantly if she didn’t have a belly full of alcohol. Since there was a decent amount of Firewater bubbling in her stomach, by the time Rheawien’s hand found its way to the hilt of her blade, there was a whisper creeping into her ear, asking her to play along. Though the words didn’t sound much like a plea, not after this pushy bastard with grabby hands threatened her with death. The half-elf was ready to retaliate, disregard the caress and the hot breath on her ear and gift this creep with a bloody mouth filled with his own teeth. But she never got a chance.

One of the hands went for her hair, latching onto her messy ponytail and yanking it backwards almost carelessly. And before Rhea had a chance to react, foreign lips muffled her groan of surprise. Her own didn’t play along at first, her eyes wide open and erupting with anger and agitation. But for some reason, Rheawien’s hands remained dormant. Instead of punching the man in the stomach or grabbing a fistful of his sensitive privates, they seemed paralyzed. There was something odd in this embrace, something oddly familiar and attractive that sent a tingle through her better then any liquor ever could. And once their lips separated, the white-haired woman finally deciphered what it was.

The man that so audaciously took her wasn’t a man at all. The face that stood barely an inch from her own was a bit uncouth, but it was undoubtedly a freckly face of a woman. And suddenly Rheawien wasn’t that angry anymore. This realization sort of blurred most of the words that the gray-eyed girl spoke, her mind registering only the most important ones. “You get to come with me.” The half-elf couldn’t counter that even if she wanted to. She came here for the booze and some antics, and wound up with a woman wantonly kissing her. Not a bad catch, not even if that single kiss was the only thing she would receive from this woman. It was more intimacy then Rheawien felt in months.

“Uhm... Alright,” was the only word she managed to vocalize, her eyes going from one gray iris to the other repeatedly, her lips feeling the warmth of the girl’s breath. Her hands, that were currently lost somewhere between their bodies, snaked their way around the woman, but when she wanted to kiss the woman again, another tug on her bound hair stopped her before their lips made contact once again.

“We need to get out of here now,” the stranger reiterated in a whisper, reminding Rheawien to the whole ‘play along or we’ll both be dead’ deal. If a man did this to her – any man – she would send him packing with one very painful story to tell afterwards. As it was, Rhea found it ludicrous to object.

“I... uh... I have a room in a place nearby. It’s no palace, but it’s better then this dump,” the white-haired bitch spoke, sounding oddly amicable all of a sudden. She had no clues to the game this woman was playing or to the reasons why she decided to pull in a complete stranger into it. But right now Rheawien was too desperate and lonely to require clues to go with the flow. Letting go of the lean body of the stranger, she took the bottle and screwed the tin lid back on before standing up with a bottle in hand.

skyler manfield

04-02-07, 02:14 PM

"Good let's go," she whispered urgently, "Back way out."

She took her hostage by the wrist and dragged her toward the back of the taproom, still quite aware of the eyes on her back. Nobody had risen yet to follow, hopefully they just figured they were mistaken. As she pushed open the back door, the loud creeking of the hinges joined the scent of rotted garbage, and she snorted. The next sound was much less welcome even than that.

"Leaving so soon, my dear?" Deacon's voice purred, the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor accenting his words with a threatening vibrato.

Rather than answering, she pushed the white-haired woman in front of her, urging her to run. As they took off through the chill night air of late spring, Skyler cursed under her breath. Now he knew she was here, and unless she came up with a plan to kill Deacon - and soon - she'd barely last a week.

"Please tell me we're almost there," she pleaded, glancing back over her shoulder and straining her ears for the sound of pursuit. They'd taken at least four different back alleys, so hopefully that had lost the Syndicate cutthroats - Deacon wouldn't likely come after her himself.

A shout came from less than a block away, and the scuffle of running feet moved closer in their direction. Once more, she grabbed her momentary consort and pulled her into a shadowed corner, her mouth pressing against the other's lips, and hard. Her pursuers weren't likely to think to pause for a shadowed couple in the throes of passion.

The men ran past, not even pausing to glance at Skyler and the white-haired woman - it was as if Skyler's ability to go unnoticed had passed into her companion with the close contact. An interesting idea, if that really was the case and the men weren't just oblivious idiots.

"They're gone for now," she uttered a relieved sigh, but still didn't let her guard down, "You're not off the hook yet though. Come on."

Rheawien

04-03-07, 01:01 PM

Running was one of the activities that Rhea was very good at, both when it came to running from her problems and running from some pursuers. This time it was the latter that needed to be done, but even with all her elven – or rather, half-elven – grace and innate fleetness, the alcohol took its usual toll. It didn’t make the white-haired woman dodder or stumble, but it scrambled her balance just enough to make her barely keep up with the woman that was obviously in some sort of a trouble. It also covered her eyes with a filter that made the darkened alleys and passing houses that much more blurry and vague then usual. It could’ve been affecting the voices that were following them as well, but then again it could’ve been that they were simply incomprehensible and faint because of the distance.

The only moment of reprieve from this mad dash through the filthy underbelly of Radasanth was when the still nameless girl pulled her into the inky shadows when the voices became too loud. The motion was rapid enough to make Rheawien’s back hit the wooden wall hard, but all the discomfort from the impact was alleviated when her unlikely companion kissed her again. It was a kiss rough to the point of being violent, but this time Rhea was much more eager to cooperate though, returning the kiss and disregarding a pair of splinters that poked at her back. This depraved embrace lasted until the pack of goons passed – far too short for Rheawien’s liking – and once again it was broken as quickly as it was forced onto the half-elf. Rheawien couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips, picking up the remnants of the caress in a reflex fueled with misdirected passion.

“That’s twice now you kissed me and I don’t even...” but before she was able to finish, the hand of the knavish girl latched onto her wrist once again, pulling at it and making it clear that they weren’t out of the woods yet. Their pursuit was scurrying through the streets ahead, but it wouldn’t take long for them to realize they lost their prey and double back.

“Right. It’s... uhm...” Rheawien deliberated on the location of her inn, examining the streets around her and trying not to make a navigational mistake. Most of the alleys in the Slums didn’t have the fancy oil lamps to light the way and that went double for the side alleys that were usually as dark as if they never saw the light of day. Luckily, the half-elf scoured most of the streets around here more then once and she was able to find some clues as to where they were exactly. “It’s about one block up, just around the corner.”

This time she led the way, pacing hastily instead of breaking out in an all-out dash. Silence and covertness were their allies now; they didn’t need some lapse that would send them toppling over some crates or garbage stacks. They managed to reach the corner undetected, but when Rheawien peeked around the corner, she moved back almost instantly. “Somebody’s coming,” she whispered, returning the favor and pushing the girl back into the shadow of an overhanging porch and kissing her, albeit more gently. Behind Rhea’s back, a pair of harlots ambled by, caught in some inane debate. Rhea backed away from her companion slowly, unable to stifle a smile.

“False alarm, I guess,” she mused before taking the freckly girl by the hand and leading the way around the corner. The Old Ollie’s – or the double ‘O’ as the locals dubbed it – exterior didn’t look much better then the establishment they just ran out of. It was just another crummy house in a long line of equally crummy houses that all looked like a place where most people wouldn’t leave their horse. However, in this particular case, the uninviting walls hid a rather cozy atmosphere. It was still insanely far from any extravagance, but at least there were no drunkards and knaves lazing around the reception room. Instead, there was just an old man with a desk, a petroleum lamp and a jingling keyring of keys. Rheawien had no idea how did the old man survive in such a hostile environment – her astonishment was that much larger due to the fact that the man was blind. She reckoned that he had some connections, though, that surpassed even the webs of the mighty Syndicate.

“You have returned so soon miss, and with company,” the bald geezer spoke in a thin, dry voice, his empty eye sockets staring in her general direction. “I thought you said you’re going to be pulling an all-nighter.”

Rheawien, who always thought that she could be a cold bitch towards everybody, found it unable to brush the old man just like that. So when she spoke, her tone was significantly softer then during most of the evening. “I planned to, but plans change.”

“Don’t they always. Well, you two girls have a good night,” the man said with what might’ve been a giggle, but came out as a wheezing sound that ultimately turned into a cough. The white-haired woman nodded – she knew the man couldn’t see this gesture, but given what that pair of his old hairy ears could hear, she was ready to believe that he could actually hear her nod. She led the way up the moaning set of stairs and to a balcony that looked down on the lobby on one side and presented a row of doors on the other. Rheawien unlocked the door number four.

At first nothing could be seen in the interior; the window blinders were closed shut and the flame of the old man’s lamp wasn’t strong enough to reach her room. Instead of wasting time to tap her way to the room’s only lamp, Rhea reached down to the pocket of her pants and provided a small round stone amulet that almost immediately started to radiate white light. It revealed the interior of the room gradually as it grew in strength, and it wound up reminding Rheawien that she forgot to clean up in a while now.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she apologized, setting the stone and the bottle on the cupboard before she scooped the sword-sharpening gear into one of the drawers. Most of her other weapons and discarded clothes she kicked beneath the bed before she proceeded to straighten disheveled sheets. Aside from the cupboard – that seemed to be patched up from some mismatched boards – and the rather sturdy bed with iron frame, there wasn’t much in the room. Just an old wardrobe that seemed almost weary of carrying its own weight. But, aside from Rhea’s mess, it was rather neat, freshly painted, with no holes in the walls and no disturbingly large bugs crawling around.

“So, now that we’re not running through the streets and groping each other in some dark corner, I think introductions are in order,” Rheawien spoke, finally satisfied enough with the state of the bed to leave it alone. She offered a handshake to the troublemaking lass. “I’m Rheawien.”

skyler manfield

04-03-07, 02:26 PM

They struggled toward the woman's inn, clinging to the shadows. A "close call" sent them once more into a corner, this time Skyler's hostage instigating the heated liplock. She wondered about the woman's motives, especially at the roguish smile which curved her full lips as she pulled away. The assassin didn't have time to worry about it though, they continued on toward the inn, reaching its protected interior.

A blind man at the desk looked straight at Skyler, and somehow, regardless of her stealth or her disguise saw her for exactly what she was. That gave her a serious case of the heeby-jeebies, and she pushed at the half-elf hoping to escape upstairs more quickly. It wouldn't do for the thugs to come bursting in while they were just standing there.

The tiny room came to light, revealing a mess of weapons and clothing, which the woman hastily cleaned up with a few apologies. Skyler didn't care - she leaned against the wall, wearily sliding down to the floor, where she pulled her knees up to her chest, folded her arms over them and rested her head, grey eyes watching the woman as she scurried around the room.

"Skyler," she responded to the woman's proferred hand and polite introduction, not offering her own hand, "You still got that bottle? I'm in sore need of something about now."

She leaned back against the wall, her head resting against the weathered boards, eyes closed. This whole night had been a giant mess, and now she was stuck here until - well until whenever she decided it was safe to leave.

Gods, but she needed to be drunk.

Rheawien

04-04-07, 12:58 PM

Even though it was unrealistic to expect it, Rheawien had to admit that she hoped that this encounter would soon evolve into a night of passion. It was probably just her loneliness talking, amplified by the alcohol that coursed through her system, but it didn’t make her disappointment any less real. The girl that snatched her from The Hammerhead grew cold and inaccessible as soon as they reached the sanctuary of the room, offering her name but leaving Rhea’s hand without a greeting gesture. The message that all that happened – the intimacy that had little to do with anything intimate – was simply a necessity, something that had to be done in order to break free of their pursuit. This would’ve usually been enough of a clue for the white-haired bitch to back off, but right now she was half-drunk, all the kissing and touching got her slightly aroused and she was alone in her room with another woman. So instead of giving up, she decided to take it easy. The night was long and fickle; anything could happen.

A bit embarrassed by the fact that she stood there, holding her hand out like a beggar, Rheawien moved away from the slumped girl and gave her some space. The air in the room was a bit stuffy, permeating that peculiar sleeping odor that was an odd mixture of sweat and bare skin, so the half-elf decided to open up the only window, leaving Skyler’s question hanging in the air while she struggled with the rusty latch. Once she finally succeeding in setting the window free, she opened the blinds beyond it ajar, just enough to let a whiff of fresh air... Well, as fresh as it could be coming from the streets of the Slums. Luckily, the window didn’t overlook some back alley, so there was no garbage dump beneath it.

“Sure. It’s strong stuff though. Might knock your socks off,” Rhea finally said with a smile. Truth was, she desired for it to knock off something more then just socks, but that was wishful thinking right now. Proceeding to take off her sword and whip, she tucked them beneath the bed along with the rest of her apparel. The half-elf usually wasn’t this sloppy and untidy, but she didn’t want to waste time cleaning and arranging, not while she had a visitor. Before she went for the bottle though, Rheawien proceeded to bend over gracefully in order to pull a pair of knives from her boots, the leather of her pants groaning at the strain of her voluptuous figure.

Once the twin daggers joined the rest of her equipment, the white-haired vixen took the bottle from the cupboard and offered it to Skyler. But before the mischievous girl managed to grab a hold of it, she pulled it back with an enigmatic smile. “Tell you what, Skyler,” Rhea said, moving away from the girl and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “If you get up from the floor, come here and tell me what that commotion was all about, we can finish this bottle together.”

Rheawien ended with a smirk and an arm outstretched towards the girl, its hand holding the bottle of Knife’s Firewater that was still three quarters full. More then enough for the two of them to get really tipsy. But it occurred to the half-elf then that Skyler might still be rather suspicious of her; after all, they met mere minutes ago, and there wasn’t much talking in their interaction so far. For all Skyler knew, Rhea could’ve been a bounty-hunter that wanted to get her drunk, tied down and sold to the highest bidder. Little did she know that Rheawien had other types of bondage flying through her mind at that moment.

“I won’t tell on you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m pretty certain those men back there were from the Syndicate, but I have no ties to that scum nor do I plan to have. Whatever quarrel you have with them, it’s safe with me. My lips are sealed. We girls have to help each other, right?” She finished with an almost tempting smile, her hand still offering the bottle, only with no intention of pulling it away this time. Chances were that Skyler wouldn’t tell her everything, but Rheawien wasn’t asking for everything. Just an explanation as to why she was dragged through the streets. Not that she minded being dragged and pushed into corners.

skyler manfield

04-04-07, 07:20 PM

Skyler sighed as the bottle was proferred and then withheld, really not interested in fighting for it. And the woman's condition for the transfer of alcoholic goods was one that Skyler was less than hesitant to comply with. She frowned, gritting her teeth and standing up to brush past Rheawien and stand at the now open window. The assassin stayed just behind the frame, out of sight from casual uplookers, the cool breeze of a Radasanthian night brushing against her face with its usual stench.

Rheawien seemed to have a vague understanding of the situation though, and professed her trustworthiness with a vehemence that caused Skyler to reassess the white-haired half-elf. It wasn't as if the girl had anyone to trust at the moment anyway, and if her newest companion had wanted to help the Syndicate, Skyler figured she would have long before now.

"I was that scum," she said finally, turning from the window and walking across to snatch the bottle from Rheawien's hand, and taking a long swig which left her sputtering after. She gasped and blinked at Rheawien for a moment before continuing.

"But I didn't do what they wanted me to," Skyler shook her head, that wasn't the half of it, but she needed quite a bit more liquor in her system before she could get into all of it. A bit more carefully this time, she took another guzzle of the Firewater, and then passed it back to Rheawien. Yes, thanks to her fast metabolism, there was the buzz she was waiting on. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to tell a little more of her story. It would at least pass the time between now and the dawn when she was safe to leave.

"Deacon - that man who came in last, right before I..." she broke off, blushing at the memory of pressing her mouth hard against Rheawien's, "Anyways, he bought me when I was eleven from the brothel here in Radasanth where I was born. He had plans for me, if you get my meaning. I conjure he thought whoring was in my blood. Thank the heavens for Hawk."

Her face softened, and she became almost pretty when she said her mentor's name, and she uttered a silent prayer to the deities on his behalf.

"He discovered me, I guess you could say," she smiled, "Taught me everything about cleaning I might need to know - and he was the best assassin in Radasanth, maybe the world. He was also the leader of the Syndicate. Deacon was his second. But Deacon is a traitorous backstabbing gobshite who decided that it would be appropriate to have me take Hawk out for him."

She took the bottle from Rheawien and sat on the floor again, where she took another hit of the burning stuff before shaking her head and continuing her story - her words a bit more slurred this time.

"Deacon wants me dead, I suppose because I told him no," she laughed, "I more'n told him no. I told him I'd kill him if he tried to kill Hawk. I ain't seen Hawk or Deacon since. Till tonight, when I had the occasion to run into him, which gave me cause for my charade. I'm sorry if I offended you when I grabbed and kissed you like that. It was life or death."

She leaned against the side of the bed, laying her head back on the crumpled sheets which smelled of Rheawien and combined with the alcohol and the memory of the woman's last arduous kiss, left Skyler a bit more drunk than she really had much right to be.

Rheawien

04-05-07, 08:40 PM

Even though the strength of the liquor surprised her at first, it also seemed to be doing a fine job at making Rheawien more trustworthy in Skyler’s eyes. The first draught made the assassin girl cough most of the Firewater all over the floor, but the second went down more smoothly, liberating the brown-haired girl just enough for her to share a portion of the story that stood behind the events of the night. Apparently, the girl was conscripted into the Syndicate in a very harsh manner when she was very young and for reasons that had nothing to do with burglary and murdering. Instead, this sick pig of a man named Deacon wanted to make her his own personal whore, which was a pretty damn disconcerting thought given the fact that Skyler was eleven years old at a time. Compared to this man’s affection for girls that were no where near maturity, Rhea’s own kinky side suddenly didn’t seem that depraved.

After passing the bottle once – making Rheawien taste the girl’s lips once again, only in a more remote manner – the rest of the story followed. The half-elf listened as attentively as she could given the fact that that the alcohol was abrading her reasonable side and slowly breaking down the dams of her inhibitions. It seemed that Skyler was very fond of this Hawk character, for when she spoke of him, the angry strictness seemed to disappear from her face, making her look less of an assassin and more of a young lass that had an entire life in front of her. But this Deacon character seemed to be an integral part of her story whose most recent chapter they wrote today in The Hammerhead. In the end, there was an apology for something that really needed no apology. It made Rheawien chuckle in an amicable manner, her smile making it clear that there was absolutely not harm and no foul done.

Seeing that Skyler didn’t plan to sit on the bed, the white-haired woman slipped down the sheets and sat on the floor next to the assassin. With her head thrown back and her eyes gazing into some indeterminate spot on the ceiling, the girl looked almost innocent, far away from the hardship and the burden she carried on her back. Picking up the bottle and taking another sip herself, Rheawien put her right elbow on the bed and supported her head with her hand, looking at the girl as another dose of alcohol infested her system.

“There is no need for apology. I don’t mind. I mean, I really don’t mind, if you get my meaning,” she said, accentuating the phrase that Skyler used several moments ago before she murmured a snicker as her full lips stretched into a smile. “As I said, we girls have to help each other. I just happen to prefer help from girls more then I do from men nowadays. So you were doing me a favor just as much as I did to you.”

Fearful that the realization would scare the rogue girl, Rheawien turned away from her and turned her attention to the bottle once again. She already felt that repulsion that a person gets when she’s had enough, but she took another sip all the same before setting the bottle on the floor between herself and her new acquaintance. An awkward silence ensued, the kind that made you feel like you’re crawling in your own skin with a desire to jump out of it, so Rhea figured she should change the topic before Skyler started thinking she was trying to lure her in bed by means of alcohol. Which wouldn’t exactly be far from truth, but Rhea reckoned that the silence was sign enough that the wanted assassin girl wasn’t interested.

“You probably shouldn’t be hanging around the Slums if the Syndicate is after you,” Rheawien said, her voice a bit more thoughtful then she intended it to be. Alcohol had a bad tendency to make a person dwell on some issues more then she probably should. “They have their eyes and ears everywhere and they spin their little webs, playing kings in their own kingdom made of rotten wood with their small-time crooks as their vassals. You’d guess that the authorities wouldn’t allow something like that in the capitol, but nooo! I think they actually support it. This way they have a place to dump all the garbage.”

Rhea was raving and she knew it, talking about the stuff Skyler probably knew pretty well as if she was speaking the words of absolute wisdom. That’s why she decided to give it a rest for a few moments, letting her head rest on the bedside and staring blankly upwards. The ceiling wasn’t spinning, but she was pretty certain that if she took another swig or two, it would be carousel time.

skyler manfield

04-06-07, 10:03 PM

Well, wasn't she just the master of the obvious. Or was that mistress? Skyler was drunk and her brain wasn't working all that quickly at the moment. But who the hell did she think she was telling Skyler of all people about the Syndicate and the slums. As if she didn't know. And the government? Of course they overlooked the Syndicate - in fact half the time they were dipping their fingers into the Syndicate's pool anyway.

Skyler shook her head, trying to loose the cobwebs from her brain. Instead she got a bit dizzier. Her ears were ringing now. What was it the woman had said before the whole Syndicate lecture? Skyler didn't have to apologize? Gods, but if she weren't drunk she'd think Rheawien was hitting on her. She thought that a bit anyways.

"Why is it that you have cause to know so much about the Syndicate?" she asked slowly, her words slurring together, but still intelligible, "You sure you ain't got dealings with them? After all, we wasn't all scum. Just Deacon and his like. The rest of us - them are just trying to survive doin' what they're good at."

Skyler stood up and crossed to the door, listening carefully as she waited for Rheawien's story. Surely the woman had one - she had enough weapons to equip a small army, and enough courage to take that small army down one-handed. Something caught her attention though.

There was movement in the lobby, and voices. The assassin opened the door a crack, her forehead resting against the frame to give her ears the best line to the lobby. She heard the old man answering questions, and then her blood chilled and she sobered up completely as she heard a familiar voice.

Deacon. He'd followed her here. And that old blind bastard had seen Skyler somehow, and now he was the only thing between her and being dragged back to HQ underground. She'd never see the light of day again if that happened. And there was no way she'd let that happen.

"You rutting bitch!" she growled, pushing the door shut and turning on Rheawien, knife in hand, "What - you figured you'd get me drunk and then I'd be easier to turn in?"

Barely a second later she had the woman against the wall, adrenaline adding enough to her strength that she had the upper-hand, at least for the moment. The blade pressed against the half-elf's bared throat, white hair a convenient handle for making her throat more accessible. Only a bit more force and a quick movement and Skyler would break the skin, costing the woman more blood than she could afford to lose.

"If I go down, you're coming with me," Skyler hissed into Rheawien's ear, her eyes on the door, waiting breathlessly for Deacon to step into the room at any second.

Rheawien

04-07-07, 07:26 PM

Rheawien had a story – a sad one, just like everybody nowadays – and the alcohol made sure that she wasn’t reluctant to tell it, but she never got a chance to do so.

Before the half-elf even uttered a word, Skyler was on the move. Her tentative, assassin side seemed to take over, making the girl superstitious enough to open the door just enough to check whatever the hell went on in the lobby. And there must’ve been something pretty damn interesting going on too, because soon the lass was all ears, completely focused on the voices down below. This was cause enough for Rhea to scrutinize the sounds as well, but she was too far from the door and her ears were buzzing moderately from the Salvarian Firewater. Getting back to her feet with the help of her bed, the white-haired woman approached the door and the eavesdropping girl as stealthily as she could, straining her ears in order to find out what captivated the girl’s attention. However, before she even got a chance to recognize a single word, the doors were shut and there was a different Skyler looking back at her.

Instead of the calm, almost indifferent assassin that she got to know during the evening, there was a genuinely infuriated person standing before her now. The knife appeared in her hands out of nowhere – or at least that was what it looked like to Rheawien’s misty eyes – and before the half-elf vixen got a chance to ask what was going on, she was pinned to the wall again. This time, however, there was somewhat less pleasure to be derived from their closeness. Skyler’s hand once again grabbed her by her abundant hair, tugging on it enough to rip out more then just a several of white strands, while her other hand brought the knife to Rhea’s strained neck, kissing it with its razor-sharp edge. But even though the steely glare of the gray eyes told her that this girl would open up her throat without a moment worth of thought, Rheawien couldn’t deny the excitement that came from a compromising position in which they were.

“Wh-What the hell are you talking about?” Rhea’s voice wavered even though she didn’t intend it to, each word threatening to tense her vocal cords in just the wrong way that would bring her neck harder against the blade. “I don’t want to turn you over to the Syndicate, and I’m pretty sure that Ollie doesn’t want to either. I’ve seen him deal with Syndicate before. For some reason, they can’t touch him. Look for yourself,” she said, her hand feeling its way to the doorknob and twisting it again, urging Skyler to assert the situation down in the lobby once again. Though Rheawien herself couldn’t see or hear what was going on, the disgruntled voices and the stomping footsteps weren’t growing stronger, but rather evanescing as Deacon and his goons left the lobby.

“I already told you, I just want to help you,” she continued, still threatened by the knife of the girl whose eyes and ears remained focused on whatever was beyond the door. There was an amazing resolve painted on Skyler’s face. Not the desperate kind that even the dogs had when they were pushed into a corner, but the rigorous kind that you see on faces of weathered warriors. It was something that Rhea could certainly respect, but it was also a barrier that couldn’t be penetrated that easily. It would take more then just sweet-talk and reassuring words to change her mind. Despite her life being on a very thin line, Rheawien decided for a stricter approach.

“I hate the Syndicate,” she said, her tone almost acrimonious, her brows furrowing. “I would never help people that turned lawbreaking into an institution. But go ahead, do it, kill me if you don’t believe me. Kill me or move that knife away.”

She moved her countenance forward, closer to Skyler’s face, and even when the knife bit into her skin and sent a thin trail of blood oozing down her pale skin Rhea didn’t stop. Instead she kept moving with agonizing slowness, fighting with both the pain that the girl’s clutch on her hair caused and the sting on her flexing neck, moving until she could smell the dust on Skyler’s clothes and the Knife’s Firewater in her breath. Moving until their lips met again. It was a gentle kiss, a lover’s kiss, bound to coax and persuade and tempt. And when it was done, Rheawien moved away with a smirk that softened her visage and made her eyes squint ever so slightly.

“Your call.”

skyler manfield

06-19-07, 09:03 PM

The kiss sent a shiver through the young assassin's body, followed by waves of almost intolerable heat - the whole alcohol thing was a terrible idea it would seem. But she couldn't stop herself from kissing the woman back, the heat only reminding her of a hunger she'd been supressing since a cabin in the wilds of Salvar and a barbarian called Malagen.

"Fine," she whispered hoarsely as she dragged her lips forcefully out of the kiss, "But what about the blind man at the desk - can he be trusted to keep them out of your room? I know this inn ain't controlled by the Syndicate but that don't mean a little bit of blade at his throat won't scare him into giving them what they want."

Roughly, she dragged Rheawien across the room to the doorway her ears straining to hear what Deacon or the old man might be saying. The blade had dropped from Rheawien's throat for the moment, and she held the woman's hair tightly as she shoved her face into the barely open door, so she'd be the one seen watching. Not that it would make a difference, since they saw Skyler leave with the very unique looking half-elf.

"We'll wait it out," she sighed, pulling Rheawien back away from the door finally, her body still pressed too close, "They'd have been in here by now if the old man was gonna give me up without a fight. Here's hopin' they won't kill him and come anyway."

Another almost unbearable wave of warmth and hunger cascaded through Skyler's body, leaving her gasping for breath, her mouth still tingling from Rheawien's lips.

"Is it bad..." she hesitated, her breath coming in short pants, the alcohol in her system making way for adrenaline, "Is it bad for me to want you to kiss me again?"

Her grey eyes searched Rheawien's face, the frown leaving a crease between her brows as she struggled with wanting the woman, fearing Deacon, and wondering if her fear was all that made her want the woman. It left her with a feeling that whatever the woman suggested or did, she'd go along with it, just to have the question answered for her.

"Is it bad?"

Rheawien

06-27-07, 02:04 PM

Rheawien had to suppress a chuckle lest she’d come off as condescending, but a quizzical smirk crept on her face all the same once she heard the question. One of the reasons was that the abrupt change caught her aback. Only moments earlier they were no better then two street cats, clawing at each other’s throats, and now the fickle yet deadly lass seemed ripe for the proverbial picking. And then there was a fact that the question sounded oddly familiar. She hadn’t been able to see herself when Sarah Dahlios first introduced her to the pleasures women could share with their own gender, but the half-elf was pretty certain that there had been the same half-confused, half-timorous expression on her face back then. She had asked the same question as Skyler and found the answers during a heated night. If she was fortunate, something similar would occur tonight as well.

“Bad? Well, I guess it depends the way you look at it,” Rheawien said, unable to prevent her smirk from turning into a full-blown smile as she sat back on the bed and planted her back against the wall. Skylar seemed reluctant to follow her, torn between her own newfound desire and the Syndicate threat that still loomed somewhere outside the doors. The white-haired vixen resumed, hoping that her words would help Skyler decide. “I find that women usually taste better then men, definitely smell better and most of the time make you feel better as well. You’ll seldom find a woman that will force you down and plow into you without consideration. And even if you do... Well, it’s not half as bad as some hairy oaf pounding you into the mattress, trust me.”

It was the alcohol talking. Usually, Rheawien wasn’t half as bold and talkative as she was now, but she was womanless for months, randy and the Firewater was burning down her scruples as if they were written on paper. She wanted Skyler. The girl wasn’t a busty beauty with curves on all the right places. In fact, she seemed to lack the womanly curvature almost completely, especially beneath those baggy clothes in which her lithe body almost swam. And yet Rhea wanted to take her out of those clothes, push her down on the sheets and make her squirm and moan and beg for more. It could’ve been again the deadly tandem made of booze and pent up desire, making the half-elf covet somebody so unremarkable, but it was there, unmistakable and so prominent it made her wet. Skyler was still standing, though, questioning with those uncanny light eyes of hers. Though whether she questioned her rather lewd hostess or herself, Rheawien couldn’t tell.

“There are, of course, people who find it queer, unnatural, even depraved. In their eyes, I reckon it is bad. But if it makes you feel good, I say to hell with them.” Rhea finished with a smile that made her usually grim face almost aglow. It was a wicked smile, an audacious smile, a defiant expression of a woman too strong to be swayed by words of others. Half of that boldness came from the alcohol and the fact that they were just two girls palavering on things only girls can palaver about. It was still enough to make her lift herself up from the bed and walk towards Skyler, swaying her hips ever so minutely. The assassin was trying her best to be stoic, to be as strong as life trained her to be, but there were no enemies in the room, no shadows stalking her.

“In the end, the only judge is you. So tell me, does it feel bad?” Rheawien asked, close enough to the brown-haired lass to reach up and cup the side of Skyler’s neck. They kissed again, this time without cold steel slicing through their passion, the older woman craning upwards due to the height difference. Rhea let her tongue wander past the girl’s moist lips, seeking her own, teasing it. Her other hand was moving too, creeping up the assassin’s body and feeling its way up to her chest. It found naught save tight layers of wrapped cloth, but it didn’t matter. Skyler didn’t recoil, didn’t back away, and it was all the incentive Rheawien needed.

skyler manfield

07-03-07, 04:09 PM

Her own words echoed back to her, and Skyler realized how immature and ridiculous they sounded. Of course when had she ever in her life cared what anyone else thought? What did it matter if it was "bad" - she was a cold blooded killer. There was no passion or hate in what she did, she simply took the lives of others for money. And yet, somehow this seemed worse. She didn't want to rationalize it to herself the way Rheawien did - if it feels good it can't be bad. She'd seen men do plenty of terrible things which may have felt good to them, but were obviously depraved and sickened her just to remember them.

The difference here was that what her impulses were screaming, and her body urging her toward, wasn't something that could hurt anyone else. Unless her lack of attention for Deacon and his men caused the both of them to get themselves killed. That didn't seem like an issue anymore though. So, if her body was ready for what seemed to be the obvious next step, why was she still hesitant.

Rheawien didn't give her much more time to deliberate this in her mind though. The beauty closed the distance between them, her hands suddenly on the assassin's lithe frame, the sparks that her touch illicited reminding Skyler just what she was supposed to be concentrating on. She had to answer the question, did it feel bad?

Her voice had crept away though, stuck in her throat as the heat crept up the girl's thighs and into the pit of her stomach. Shaking her head, she leaned into Rheawien's lips, their tongues meeting in a maelstrom of pent up desires as an answer to the question. Wrong or bad or morally depraved, it didn't matter since it wasn't going to hurt anyone for them to enjoy themselves.

Clothing suddenly seemed much too confining, the bandages that held her chest into a more masculine appearance seemed to keep her from breathing. Her hands moved over Rheawiens as she tugged at the buttons and and ties which held her into the layers upon layers of stifling fabric.

The tunic finally came off, and the bandage fell in pieces to the floor beside it, leaving Skyler pale and flushed before this woman who was essentially a stranger. Her body was so uninteresting, all smooth lines and pale angles, a pure opposite it felt to her compared to Rheawien's ample curves and overripe figure. Almost as though she were comparing, the girl ran one hand over her own boyish curves, fingers brushing over a tautened nipple, leaving gooseflesh where she brushed, her other hand mirroring the touch over Rheawien's body as she moved. Grey eyes never left Rheawien's face as though gauging her reaction to the less than womanly body of the assassin.

Rheawien

07-05-07, 05:13 PM

For the first time in months – though it felt like ages – Rheawien was being touched by another woman, and she welcomed the caress with a smile of a cat that just got the cream. Skyler’s fingers were tentative, passing over Rhea’s scandalously tight top and the soft breast beneath it, corresponding the motions the assassin made over her own topless body. And when the brown-haired girl passed over the most sensitive spot on that curve, she found both her own and Rheawien’s nipple responding to the touch. The simple caress alone made the white-haired woman close her eyes for just a moment and expel a deep sigh from the bottom of her lungs. Her head was no longer in this world; it was floating somewhere far away, where it was as hot as in a furnace and where gravity wasn’t as strong as on Althanas.

She enjoyed the exploration game for several moments, her own hands reaching towards Skyler, eager to touch the girl’s bare skin. Where most other women had soft, curvy flesh, her nightly lover had sinew and muscle, but Rhea found this peculiarity arousing. So much so, in fact, that it didn’t take long for her craving to make an ultimatum to see all of it. Despite the fact that Skyler’s touch was incinerating, heating up all the right parts of her body, Rheawien broke the contact and dropped to her knees. Her hands were on the brim of the assassin’s leather pants, making their way to the laces that kept them clinging to her hips. Rhea’s fingers worked almost clumsily, alcohol and her flaming desire messing up her hand-eye coordination and making her fumble with the knots several times. She was ready to just rip the pants off the girl when the laces finally untangled and she was able to pull both the pants and the smallclothes off Skyler’s body in a single motion.

With all of her clothes pooled around her ankles, Skyler was left in nothing but her skin. Her luscious skin that Rheawien decided to taste. Her first kiss landed just bellow the girl’s bellybutton, Rhea’s lips teasing the muscular flesh of Skyler’s stomach. The white-haired woman loved the shallow, barely noticeable ridges of the assassin’s sculptured abdomen, lingering there for several moments before she ascended to the more sensitive parts. Skyler’s breasts were in tune with her figure, more fit for a girl who was yet to fully blossom, but like with many things tonight, Rheawien didn’t care much. She kissed them all the same, lingering on the taut nipples long enough for her tongue to play with them, for her tongue to flick over them repeatedly. The rough, shallow breathing and the occasional moan were signs enough that she wasn’t doing anything that Skyler didn’t like, but the hand that got tangled in her messy white hair and urged her closer were there just to make her certain. The lanky woman tasted of sweat and skin – they both did after the little escapade tonight – but in their current state it was a deadly combination, an intimate mixture that made certain they were as close as close could get.

The ascent of Rhea’s lips continued and when they were once again touching Skyler’s, she took the girl by the hand and led her to the bed. The half-elf discarded her clothes with as much haste as her tipsiness allowed, throwing most of them away and nearly toppling over while trying to slide her high boots off. But soon enough she was lying on the bedspread next to the bravo lass, recommencing the intimate ritual of caresses and kisses. One of her hands fondled Skyler’s chest, teasing her nipples, as her other hand slid down between the small mounds and began its sinful descent, scratching feebly over her stomach before it ventured further.

“It’s not that bad at all, isn’t it?” she whispered as her fingers touched the girl’s wetness, her teeth nibbling the earlobe in which she uttered the words soaked with passion. Skyler didn’t need to answer, though. Her body was more then eager to respond, flexing and arching and voicing all the mellisonant sound of lovemaking. Rheawien rewarded her every sigh with a kiss, her every moan with a caress, introducing her to a whole new world between the sheets.

skyler manfield

07-11-07, 11:00 PM

Each kiss that was landed on her pale torso set Skyler's muscles to quivering, each touch leaving her reeling in its wake, and before she could catch herself from one moment of insanity, Rheawien had moved on toward the next. Her mind searched and scrambled like a man struggling up a rocky cliff for what she should be doing or feeling, but the lust and the alcohol and the adrenaline - and whatever the hell it was that the half-elf was doing with her tongue - Skyler forgot for a second even the fact that only moments before she'd been holding a knife to the woman's throat.

The thought skittered through Skyler's tangled mind that she wasn't at all afraid of what was happening with Rheawien, not that she was quite certain exactly what was happening with Rheawien. It didn't really matter she decided as she let the woman lead her to the bed. Whatever it was, it was consensual and obviously wanted, and it wasn't as if a lot of mushy stuff could happen between two strangers.

Time seemed to move faster than it should for a moment and then to slow down so much as to make the world look like it moved through molasses. Skyler was laying in a woman's arms, both of them undressed with their tongues and lips and hands wandering boundlessly over each other's naked bodies. Skyler's exploration shuddered to a halt though as the foreign terrain she explored began exploring on its own a region of Skyler's body that had only once been visited. But this was different than the angry, hurried liaison she had shared with Malagen. This was languorous, and somehow more welcome - although what had happened with Malagen had left its mark on her that wasn't unwanted.

Skyler tried to keep her back from arching almost violently as Rheawien's tongue first grazed the wetness between her thighs, but her body had a mind of its own and she hissed between her teeth as her hips leapt up toward the object of pleasure above them. The young assassin turned her face against a pillow to muffle her surprised moans and grunts as the half-elf showed her experience with other women off.

"No..." she answered a question that had probably been forgotten by now, her voice hoarse from the muffled screams and gasps she'd been hiding, "No... it's not that bad... it's really quite... ahhhaaa..."

It was really too much for her in fact, and she found that the pleasure excited a hunger in her belly that sent her grasping for Rheawien, pulling at the white locks and tugging the woman upwards over her stomach and grasping her to her as her own clumsy fingers sought to elicit the same heated moans that her partner had brought from Skyler's lips.

Rheawien

07-14-07, 05:33 PM

When the tables were finally turned and Skyler aimed to do to Rhea what she did to the assassin seconds earlier, Rheawien was so drunk on Skyler’s juices and moans and touches and scents that the girl could’ve slit her throat and the half-elf wouldn’t care. But luckily no such belligerency happened. The inexperienced lass turned Rhea’s weapon against her, bringing tidbits of pleasure with every caress, every kiss. Her lips now travelled down the half-elf’s smooth neck, making its way down her inflamed body. Skyler’s hands weren’t idle either. They ventured over the curves of the older woman, brushing against her breasts almost as if they aimed to tease. For Rheawien, who felt as if she was trying to hold back an avalanche with her bare hands, every such touch pushed her a step closer to the edge.

She was shoved over the edge when Skyler’s other hand decided to descend even lower. Her long fingers perhaps weren’t as experienced as Rhea’s in this particular line of work, but they were far from clumsy. Skyler was, after all, a woman too; she probably knew that whatever excited her worked on other women as well. Two fingers touched her wetness, but they didn’t linger for long. The pleading look on Rheawien’s face combined with the upwards motion of her hips and a muffled moan coaxed the girl to push her fingers farther. That alone made the white-haired woman throw her head back and let out an unrestrained moan.

“There,” she tried to tell the girl in a breathy voice as her head dove deeper into the feathery pillow. Her hands wanted to touch Skyler, but they were too busy clutching to the bedspread as if her life depended on it. Her body rocked in motion with every motion the assassin girl made with her hand, trying to somehow extract more pleasure from her touch. Her eyes were closed, but saw stars and fireworks all the same.

“There, there, there...” she repeated in delirium, her voice rising in pitch until she let out something that sounded like both a scream and a groan. Her entire body stiffened. It felt as if every muscle in her body convulsed at the same time and something warm exploded inside of her, spreading from where Skyler touched her to the rest of her body. It lasted for as long as her scream did, this wave of sheer pleasure that made her shiver all over, and when it was done, Rheawien body fell down from that cloud she was riding and fell back on the crumpled sheets. Her breathing was shallow, frantic, as if she just sprinted across Radasanth. Her eyes opened to stare at the ceiling, but they soon found the reason for this night pleasure and peered at Skyler who had an almost mischievous smile on.

She wanted to say something, tell the girl how amazing she made her feel, thank her for this mind-blowing experience, but words got stuck in Rhea’s throat. Instead, she pulled the girl back into her embrace and thanked her with kisses, lighter and less frantic then before. It were the aftermath kisses and caresses, those that came after the storm of passion that left them both fatigued and more relaxed then ever. How long this gentleness lasted, neither woman could tell. After running away from the goons and skirmishing beneath the sheets, they were both so spent that the sleep came naturally, like a warm blanket that enveloped their satisfied bodies.

***

When Rheawien woke in the morning and didn’t feel Skyler’s arms around her body, she was certain that the girl had woken before her and fled. It was what Sarah always did, leaving the half-elf wake up in an empty bed with only a memory of the night before. But Skyler wasn’t Sarah Dahlios. When Rhea opened her eyes and fought off the brightness of the morning that crept through the ajar window, she found the assassin sleeping serenely at the other side of the wide bed. Her lanky body was only partially concealed beneath the dark green blanket that the girl hogged all to herself. This left Rheawien with only a thin linen sheet that covered her from the waist down, but the white-haired woman wasn’t about to complain. Even if she was cold – which she wasn’t thanks to her uncanny resistance – she was quite happy with how the things turned out. She rolled to her side, supporting her head on the palm of her hand and allowing her eyes to wander over Skyler while she waited for her lover to wake up.

She didn’t know where they would go from here. Chances were that Skyler would wake up with chagrin on her face and run out of the room before she even got properly dressed. It wouldn’t be the first one Rheawien got such a ‘good morning’. And even if that wasn’t the case, there was a good possibility that this would develop into nothing, remaining just a one-night stand. But Rhea was quite ready for that. She learned a while ago that women seldom had the courage to dedicate themselves to such socially unacceptable relationships. So she just continued looking at Skyler, content with what she got so far and expecting nothing more.

skyler manfield

07-18-07, 10:16 PM

As always, Skyler fell asleep in the fetal position, back to the wall, the covers only over her from her stomach to her thighs. Everything above and below that remained uncovered regardless of temperature. It was probably because her blanket as a child had only been that big, and the brothel she grew up in was usually too hot for comfort anyway.

When she woke up, her eyes took a few moments to focus, but then she saw the lusty half-elf staring at her from across the room. It was a bit disconcerting, and added with the massive hangover and the bright sunlight that streamed offensively through the window above her head, she sat up and pulled the blanket around her, scowling.

"Morning," she mumbled, glancing around the floor for her clothes. She leaned forward to pick up her undergarments from where they lay crumpled beside the bed, but her brain threatened to spill out the top of her skull so she just moaned and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes until the room stopped spinning.

In the light of day the room was dingier than it had seemed the night before. Of course, last night she'd been drunk as hell, scared to death, and more than a little distracted. The woman with whom she'd shared the evening was not dingier though. In fact, she was quite lovely - this was rather a relief to Skyler. Better to have had a drunken tryst with a beautiful woman than with an ugly man.

"You have a hangover too?" she tried again to reach for her clothes, this time managing to pick up all but her pants. As she shrugged into her linens and her tunic, she glanced up at Rheawien once more, this time trying to gauge the other's reaction to the night before. One night stands were one thing, regrettable one night stands were quite another.

At least Deacon didn't find me. That would have been a lot worse than this hangover. Dead is definitely worse than a hangover, she thought to herself as she stared at Rheawien.

"So.. uhhhmmmm... what now then? I could sure use your help with that Deacon fellow if you saw fit to assist me," she mentioned hesitantly, "Of course, I'd understand your turning something like that down, since he's a crafty bugger and we barely know each other."

Rheawien

07-20-07, 05:09 PM

“Thankfully, I do not,” Rheawien responded with a smirk as she observed the girl’s struggle with the retrieval of her clothes. She didn’t enjoy the sight for long before a yawn attacked her, making the white-haired woman stretch both her jaws and her limbs. She pulled the linen sheet over her bosom after it, though; seeing Skyler covering her nudity made the half-elf do the same, lest she’d make the girl feel even more awkward. She pulled herself up so her back was supported by the bedstead, one hand holding the sheet while the other tried to fix the tousled white mane. “Nowadays, I mostly drink the Knife’s Firewater, so I got used to it by now. And also, thanks to you, I didn’t have to finish the bottle on my own. That probably would’ve given me quite a headache.”

Rheawien expected some sort of an excuse right about now, a half-baked one that the assassin girl would conjure up to explain that she needed to be somewhere else as soon as possible. But for once, the worst case scenario didn’t happen. Instead, Skyler forgot all about the mistrust from yesterday and asked the half-elf for aid in dealing with the varlet that chased them last evening. Rhea didn’t respond to it immediately, observing the lanky girl and faking deliberation, but there was really only one reply in his mind. After last night, there was little that Skyler could ask that Rheawien would’ve refused.

“Sure,” she finally responded with a shrug of her bare shoulders. “My schedule is pretty empty and I wouldn’t mind filling it with busting some criminals.”

“If nothing else, it’s a good opportunity for the two of us to get to know each other better,” Rheawien added, following Skyler’s example. The curvaceous woman slid down from the bed with the wrinkly sheet around her form and started picking up her clothes. Unlike those of her lover which were pooled pretty close together, Rhea’s clothes had been discarded much more recklessly last night, so she had to explore the room quite thoroughly to track them all down. She found her top hanging from a window frame, one of her boots on a nightstand and her leather pants stuffed beneath the bed. Letting the bed sheet fall, the half-elf started to don her clothes.

“You never see someone’s true face unless you see them in a battle,” she said, sliding the skimpy red-and-black top over her head. “Or in bed,” the lewd part of her mind wanted to add, but the thought came out only as an enigmatic curve at the edge of her full lips. Rheawien put on her pants next, but they were neither snug nor short enough for her legs. She pulled them off and handed them across the bed to Skyler. “I think these are yours.”

Hers were actually in the corner of the room, hiding beneath a chair. She scurried over to the chair, bare-bottomed, and worked her way into the tight pants. “If we’re going after this Deacon fellow and the Syndicate, though, we’re going to need some hardware. Well, you will need some, anyways. Unless you plan to take him down with a knife,” the white-haired woman continued, not without kindness in her voice as she laced up her pantaloons and proceeded to tame her tousled hair. She subdued the silvery white locks into a messy ponytail that dangled high and defiant from the back of her head.

“So here’s what we’ll do,” Rheawien stated with a more determined tone, as if the mission to take Deacon out was her own and not Skyler’s. She opened up a wooden chest at the foot of the bed, took out the pieces of her arsenal and arranged them on the bedspread. Lastly, she took out a rather heavy pouch that jingled upon contact. “We’re going to get some breakfast and then I’m taking you shopping.”