Lyra Fereth
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
She liked him....it was hard not to.
His persistency led to a playful tussle, rolling like youngling elves in the grass, each trying to gain the upperhand, peels of laughter from one, her own without sound but still present....he brought back for her a lost childhood, the sweet innocence of the game tangible...she could almost touch it, the memory and feelings it evoked.
It was...special.
But she owed him an explanation too when the fun seemed to change, becoming more intimate, more aware....
She attempted to describe the difference, by sign and mute 'word' by thumping and holding a clasped palm to her left breast, meaning the one, a gentle pat-stroke-touch, the other. His compassion and understanding was endless, timeless and though tears fell and she herself had to swallow hard at the lump in her own throat...they came through the worst.
And she felt the purity and honesty of what remained...and felt stronger because of it.
It remained special.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
They had a date. An assassination date. There was hope for him yet, she thought, a touch surprised that he had turned to her for her help and knowledge, that he had thought she might have that knowledge too, that he was prepared to kill and ...dispose. He had the cause, she had the training, though he did not know it, the all of it. They discussed of the methods for disposal, there were many ways.
Two of which were obvious, but a little close to 'home', the usual 'bridge-drop' - the stench coming from the depths below the Hive bridge told of many a body dump. A local brewer she knew of in the Hive, who owned a few large vats, one of which was kept filled with acid for just such an occasion and for good coin would keep his trap shut. Neither of these appealed to him. In the end they came up with the best method together, his idea, her location, one she had seen and used before.
She offered 'Let Ly-ra take care of this' he didn't need to put himself out. She would do this for free, for him 'Ly-ra will help because he wishes this done', she thought. Of all she had met so far, met and ....held affection for....he was the last she would have thought would have the wherewithall and heart to do such a deed. He had managed to surprise her.
Perhaps it was this that led her to change her mind. Less the 'brother', more the 'cousin'.
She had feelings for a few but refused to define them all, label them or use 'that' word. One was long since absent, a memory that was slowly fading of a pair of hunters that moved as one, that needed no words, that had begun to trust and offered an opportunity that was now fading too. She had found something of the like more recently that led to a yearning for more, a flashback to times with her father, a black panther and suite of complex emotions that threatened to rock her life but still drew her. She refused again to even acknowledge the turbulent emotions stirred by one human, that both angered and appealed, that she needed yet hid carefully so as not to give him advantage, those that had been stirred from a girlish curiosity of a pair of crimson eyes and yet another human who had woven magic in poetic lyric and swiftly ended as soon as it begun.
It was easier, much easier to allow herself to consider the simple and gentle, without danger of loss of focus...perhaps the two could be combined without risk of losing herself and her purpose, perhaps it was time to try. Youthful feelings stirred by young elfish grins and giggles...distracting but...might yet still not be so completely...in conflict.
So she surpressed the others and turned to what was here, what was now, an offer of an easy companionship that promised to be gentle and steady so long as she kept the other sides of herself and her life hidden from him.
He was, she finally decided, what she needed right now.
And so began her first real training session in the art of the kiss.
*****
Lyra's cheeks never raised a hint of a blush while he did enough of that for the two of them. Yet it soon became clear he had more expertise than her in this art. There was one moment of complete openness and intimacy, her innocence written all over her face that was met with a laugh and in her mind a comment that seemed to make fun of her. She felt vunerable, an instant thought that she had made a wrong choice, that when feeling that escape of amusement, that breath to her face had her closing up again and poking a finger to the ribs whilst still held in his arms. His apology was honest, she took a moment to assess it and adopted a more business-like expression, this was training after all, of a kind, and they began again.
'Kiss me how you feel you should kiss me'
She picked up on the 'should', concentrated and full-lipped, hands to shoulders, more agressive, showed him what she knew already, her interpretation of 'should' Hive-style but he quickly picked up on the lack of feeling and tugged upon her tunic to draw her back.
'Show me what is in here, Lyra...'" his hand drifted to lie above her heart then moved to press two fingers to her temple 'Not what is in here'
Frustrated, she sighed. This was supposed to be easy. Kidnapping had been easier. Learning to make poison and applying it to arrow tip had been easier. Stealing a large glass jar from the Festhall had been a doddle in comparison. The only thing harder so far had been....her swimming lesson...well she was floundering now.
Another sigh and she began again. Taking his hand in hers, she closed her eyes and listened now to the noises in the room, the lick of the flames in the grate and a movement of burning log, his soft moan when she brought his fingertips to her lips and the barely audible quickened pace and thud of a heart, the soft rasp of her lips to a calloused palm. She heard his exhale of breath and felt fingers curling around gently, brushing against her cheek and hair, a soft kiss to the cheek.
She opened her eyes to meet his. Her expression had grown softer, less guarded, innocence returned. She glanced to his hand, then looked up to hold gaze, blue to blue and...smiled.
Two of which were obvious, but a little close to 'home', the usual 'bridge-drop' - the stench coming from the depths below the Hive bridge told of many a body dump. A local brewer she knew of in the Hive, who owned a few large vats, one of which was kept filled with acid for just such an occasion and for good coin would keep his trap shut. Neither of these appealed to him. In the end they came up with the best method together, his idea, her location, one she had seen and used before.
She offered 'Let Ly-ra take care of this' he didn't need to put himself out. She would do this for free, for him 'Ly-ra will help because he wishes this done', she thought. Of all she had met so far, met and ....held affection for....he was the last she would have thought would have the wherewithall and heart to do such a deed. He had managed to surprise her.
Perhaps it was this that led her to change her mind. Less the 'brother', more the 'cousin'.
She had feelings for a few but refused to define them all, label them or use 'that' word. One was long since absent, a memory that was slowly fading of a pair of hunters that moved as one, that needed no words, that had begun to trust and offered an opportunity that was now fading too. She had found something of the like more recently that led to a yearning for more, a flashback to times with her father, a black panther and suite of complex emotions that threatened to rock her life but still drew her. She refused again to even acknowledge the turbulent emotions stirred by one human, that both angered and appealed, that she needed yet hid carefully so as not to give him advantage, those that had been stirred from a girlish curiosity of a pair of crimson eyes and yet another human who had woven magic in poetic lyric and swiftly ended as soon as it begun.
It was easier, much easier to allow herself to consider the simple and gentle, without danger of loss of focus...perhaps the two could be combined without risk of losing herself and her purpose, perhaps it was time to try. Youthful feelings stirred by young elfish grins and giggles...distracting but...might yet still not be so completely...in conflict.
So she surpressed the others and turned to what was here, what was now, an offer of an easy companionship that promised to be gentle and steady so long as she kept the other sides of herself and her life hidden from him.
He was, she finally decided, what she needed right now.
And so began her first real training session in the art of the kiss.
*****
Lyra's cheeks never raised a hint of a blush while he did enough of that for the two of them. Yet it soon became clear he had more expertise than her in this art. There was one moment of complete openness and intimacy, her innocence written all over her face that was met with a laugh and in her mind a comment that seemed to make fun of her. She felt vunerable, an instant thought that she had made a wrong choice, that when feeling that escape of amusement, that breath to her face had her closing up again and poking a finger to the ribs whilst still held in his arms. His apology was honest, she took a moment to assess it and adopted a more business-like expression, this was training after all, of a kind, and they began again.
'Kiss me how you feel you should kiss me'
She picked up on the 'should', concentrated and full-lipped, hands to shoulders, more agressive, showed him what she knew already, her interpretation of 'should' Hive-style but he quickly picked up on the lack of feeling and tugged upon her tunic to draw her back.
'Show me what is in here, Lyra...'" his hand drifted to lie above her heart then moved to press two fingers to her temple 'Not what is in here'
Frustrated, she sighed. This was supposed to be easy. Kidnapping had been easier. Learning to make poison and applying it to arrow tip had been easier. Stealing a large glass jar from the Festhall had been a doddle in comparison. The only thing harder so far had been....her swimming lesson...well she was floundering now.
Another sigh and she began again. Taking his hand in hers, she closed her eyes and listened now to the noises in the room, the lick of the flames in the grate and a movement of burning log, his soft moan when she brought his fingertips to her lips and the barely audible quickened pace and thud of a heart, the soft rasp of her lips to a calloused palm. She heard his exhale of breath and felt fingers curling around gently, brushing against her cheek and hair, a soft kiss to the cheek.
She opened her eyes to meet his. Her expression had grown softer, less guarded, innocence returned. She glanced to his hand, then looked up to hold gaze, blue to blue and...smiled.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The lesson continued a day or so later after a brief hunt.
Lyra spent a few moments afterward back in the parlour comparing this kind of lesson to the ones with her mentor.
Stalking and tracking a prey. Poison handling. Facing a fear. Language.
Her mentor had said she was nearing the end of what he could teach her. She was not entirely convinced he was right, but who was she to question him? She smirked at that thought...she always challenged him....missed him...she frowned as that thought came to her unbidden and she wondered what he was up to, if he was alive even. She would never tell him that though and she wondered what he would make of her new friend, smirking again to herself. From her perspective, the odds were stacked against that from ever resulting in a good outcome but she would worry about that when or if the time came.
On the subject of the stalking and tracking of prey, she questioned who was the prey and who the hunter of the two so far in this new 'friendship'. Her or him? The roles had not yet been determined in their interactions. He seemed to find her easily enough, knew a little of her habits and haunts. She would have to watch for that. And in return, she knew where she could usually find him now, one of two places and that red mop was easy to spot, that or the heat from those cheeks. And, if he continued to make public display of affection in such a gross way, she would chuck another basket of fish over his head and be able to follow his smell from that, she smirked again, she was full of smirks that eve. The roles were also different in public and in private and, in private, it depended on knowledge. It was clear he had more knowledge in some things, hers being only those from observation and early lesson.
Delicate handling of a volatile and dangerous substance. He hit a few of her barriers that eve and with the finesse of a professional dancer - no...perhaps not professional but not novice either and she settled upon intermediate - he skirted them with remarkable ease and avoided the worst of the danger. Her. The lesson was his to learn, not hers.
Facing a fear. Needless to say this fear and the skill taught was nothing to do with swimming, literally. She baulked at the first encouragement to see and try, but he slowly and methodically got her to 'feel' her way round the barrier, using techniques of the first lesson to familiarise, before moving on to the next. It left her with firstly, the real desire to paint him and not for coin or for work but because she wanted to, and secondly, the ability to listen to his words of compliment without cringeing..too much....or thinking him liar.
And then there was the language. While her mentor had taught her to communicate with a special gesture and signal, her new friend was learning to read her normal ones. Closer contact and time spent together were enabling responsive communication. Less handsignal was needed now on a hunt, it was decent if not as natural as those companions before. When in more intimate surrounds, 'conversation' would flow reasonably well via the movement and swift reading of lips and so it seemed to be starting now during these early lessons, the body too.
Lyra pulled her tunic over her head for the second time that day, blew out the candle and ducked beneath the worn sheets of her small trestle bed, wondering what the next lesson would bring. She made another smirk, a quirk of the lips, that turned into a girlish grin.
Lyra spent a few moments afterward back in the parlour comparing this kind of lesson to the ones with her mentor.
Stalking and tracking a prey. Poison handling. Facing a fear. Language.
Her mentor had said she was nearing the end of what he could teach her. She was not entirely convinced he was right, but who was she to question him? She smirked at that thought...she always challenged him....missed him...she frowned as that thought came to her unbidden and she wondered what he was up to, if he was alive even. She would never tell him that though and she wondered what he would make of her new friend, smirking again to herself. From her perspective, the odds were stacked against that from ever resulting in a good outcome but she would worry about that when or if the time came.
On the subject of the stalking and tracking of prey, she questioned who was the prey and who the hunter of the two so far in this new 'friendship'. Her or him? The roles had not yet been determined in their interactions. He seemed to find her easily enough, knew a little of her habits and haunts. She would have to watch for that. And in return, she knew where she could usually find him now, one of two places and that red mop was easy to spot, that or the heat from those cheeks. And, if he continued to make public display of affection in such a gross way, she would chuck another basket of fish over his head and be able to follow his smell from that, she smirked again, she was full of smirks that eve. The roles were also different in public and in private and, in private, it depended on knowledge. It was clear he had more knowledge in some things, hers being only those from observation and early lesson.
Delicate handling of a volatile and dangerous substance. He hit a few of her barriers that eve and with the finesse of a professional dancer - no...perhaps not professional but not novice either and she settled upon intermediate - he skirted them with remarkable ease and avoided the worst of the danger. Her. The lesson was his to learn, not hers.
Facing a fear. Needless to say this fear and the skill taught was nothing to do with swimming, literally. She baulked at the first encouragement to see and try, but he slowly and methodically got her to 'feel' her way round the barrier, using techniques of the first lesson to familiarise, before moving on to the next. It left her with firstly, the real desire to paint him and not for coin or for work but because she wanted to, and secondly, the ability to listen to his words of compliment without cringeing..too much....or thinking him liar.
And then there was the language. While her mentor had taught her to communicate with a special gesture and signal, her new friend was learning to read her normal ones. Closer contact and time spent together were enabling responsive communication. Less handsignal was needed now on a hunt, it was decent if not as natural as those companions before. When in more intimate surrounds, 'conversation' would flow reasonably well via the movement and swift reading of lips and so it seemed to be starting now during these early lessons, the body too.
Lyra pulled her tunic over her head for the second time that day, blew out the candle and ducked beneath the worn sheets of her small trestle bed, wondering what the next lesson would bring. She made another smirk, a quirk of the lips, that turned into a girlish grin.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
It was a deviation. That was all it was. In no way swayed her from that greater purpose. A little sidestep. A chance to know without risk. Another lesson to get past a known weakness. It didn't touch her mind, or her heart, just her body.
It had nearly touched her vocal chords, damaged as they were, an attempt at his name that failed to a simple stutter.
He spoke that word love that made her groan inwardly upon hearing it but she let the music flow anyway, as that interesting touch and caress allowed her body to soar.
No better than a harlot
The thought came unbidden, knowing her innocence was lost.
Using him? Perhaps she was. Did she care? She thrust that thought away.
She liked him...it was hard not to.
It had nearly touched her vocal chords, damaged as they were, an attempt at his name that failed to a simple stutter.
He spoke that word love that made her groan inwardly upon hearing it but she let the music flow anyway, as that interesting touch and caress allowed her body to soar.
No better than a harlot
The thought came unbidden, knowing her innocence was lost.
Using him? Perhaps she was. Did she care? She thrust that thought away.
She liked him...it was hard not to.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
She was surprised when she saw twin flaming blades, dark cowl and the presence of one 'blood brother' in the beastlands. She was stunned, and little stunned her these days, when some moments later the dark cowl of the taller 'brother' turned up. Proof was in the showing of the faint palm scars.
Moon-scars was raggedly clothed and stiff, aching...a recent escape from capture? He was showing signs of his old age, she thought and later joked with him. Kiddo he called her, was kiddo no longer, she tipped up her nose oddly pleased that he could sense this of her.
Poison-dagger was in better condition, but threw down an old medallion to their feet and conversation between the two males suggested he too was now free of old ties and binds. Hmm...she'd had the quiet run of the Cage for many weeks, months now and their bonding had been brief at best. Caution was still needed.
The three parted ways with little much more discussed between them...three sides to a triangle still, in reality, despite those months, only newly formed.
Moon-scars was raggedly clothed and stiff, aching...a recent escape from capture? He was showing signs of his old age, she thought and later joked with him. Kiddo he called her, was kiddo no longer, she tipped up her nose oddly pleased that he could sense this of her.
Poison-dagger was in better condition, but threw down an old medallion to their feet and conversation between the two males suggested he too was now free of old ties and binds. Hmm...she'd had the quiet run of the Cage for many weeks, months now and their bonding had been brief at best. Caution was still needed.
The three parted ways with little much more discussed between them...three sides to a triangle still, in reality, despite those months, only newly formed.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The note read:
Tea, fine. Talk, limited in circumstances. Name is Lyra, tattooist at the Hive Ward parlour. Special rates for tea-dates.
The male had made joke about one of her notes as she had been attempting to explain with hand movements her requirement, in the end resorting to scribbled note. The joke being that she was asking him out on date. She turned it to her advantage. She knew who he was and where he worked, thinking he might prove useful. So a tea-date it was.
Tea, fine. Talk, limited in circumstances. Name is Lyra, tattooist at the Hive Ward parlour. Special rates for tea-dates.
The male had made joke about one of her notes as she had been attempting to explain with hand movements her requirement, in the end resorting to scribbled note. The joke being that she was asking him out on date. She turned it to her advantage. She knew who he was and where he worked, thinking he might prove useful. So a tea-date it was.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Lervak gave her a hard stare as she drew blood accidently when her needle pierced the tough skin too deep and caught a vein. The customer however didn't notice, didn't even wince, he was too far out of it having drunk all the crushed root drink she had given him. She mopped the blood, flicked her head back at Lervak for him to leave her be. She cleaned up, staunched the flow of blood from the tiny hole and moved to finish the tattoo.
Her hands were trembling, unusually for her. She concentrated, refound her focus and steadied them, returning to complete the colouring of the tattoo image swiftly, wanting rid of this half-orc and to be free of the censure of the parlour's owner, to be able to return to her room and think, quietly.
Something had disturbed her usual composure and professional touch.
...a stoney dust trail made by finger, the letters 'E V E R M E' written to the grey, a small pale hand measuring between one scraped mark upon the stoney map and those letters, gauging distance....talk of a druid meeting under ranger guard two centuries past had brought a pair of icey blue eyes alight with excitement with the sheer possibility...
Her hands were trembling, unusually for her. She concentrated, refound her focus and steadied them, returning to complete the colouring of the tattoo image swiftly, wanting rid of this half-orc and to be free of the censure of the parlour's owner, to be able to return to her room and think, quietly.
Something had disturbed her usual composure and professional touch.
...a stoney dust trail made by finger, the letters 'E V E R M E' written to the grey, a small pale hand measuring between one scraped mark upon the stoney map and those letters, gauging distance....talk of a druid meeting under ranger guard two centuries past had brought a pair of icey blue eyes alight with excitement with the sheer possibility...
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The design upon the parchment was highly detailed, intricate in the extreme and in her estimation would take a few sittings to create, the size more costly than her original quote for 'large' tattoo. She mentioned a sum, Red-Robes did not hesitate though stating she may have to take payment on trust as he did not have all the jink. She considered that for a moment, then nodded, if he didn't make payment she would deal with him afterwards accordingly.
The pattern of the tattoo had captured her interest. She had not seen it before despite her studies into the artworks and symbols Lervak had to hand in the parlour or those she had seen in the Hall of Records. It was one of her biggest commissions yet. The position and location of the design would move from knee, rising across the thigh, wending around the waist and ending to a centre piece emblazened across the chest. Its symmetry fascinated her, the meaning however, was lost upon her. It was the pattern and intricacy and the artwork required that had her hands itching to start the tracings, start the needle work, the symbolism of it obviously held meaning for this customer.
She showed to him the process, then her work area and he left her with the designs, stating that she could keep them, show no one, and he would require both design and tracings back afterwards. She agreed and showed him out of the parlour.
The pattern of the tattoo had captured her interest. She had not seen it before despite her studies into the artworks and symbols Lervak had to hand in the parlour or those she had seen in the Hall of Records. It was one of her biggest commissions yet. The position and location of the design would move from knee, rising across the thigh, wending around the waist and ending to a centre piece emblazened across the chest. Its symmetry fascinated her, the meaning however, was lost upon her. It was the pattern and intricacy and the artwork required that had her hands itching to start the tracings, start the needle work, the symbolism of it obviously held meaning for this customer.
She showed to him the process, then her work area and he left her with the designs, stating that she could keep them, show no one, and he would require both design and tracings back afterwards. She agreed and showed him out of the parlour.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Two dwarves lead the drinking rabble; one leggy blond human, the preening staff wielder human wearing that new cloak of his, two horn-tails, a long haired knight, a huge ogre and his sidekick, an also enormous flat-capped orc. Wonderful. They tried to rope in 'the mute elf' by suggesting she had raised her hand to state her entry to this drinking competition. However, she was only mildly curious and kept out of it, sitting against the railings at the side. Red-Robes joined her and they both smirked as they watched. When poison had been mentioned in jest, she had been mildly tempted to slink over and spike the drinks, she had some to hand. Might have made the competition more interesting. As it was, she nodded agreement with her sitting companion, who watched and told her he was only there to see the others make fools out of themselves.
They left together before the end of the competition, there was business to be sorting. If she had been willing to place jink on a gamble, she would have guessed the leggy blond might have given the ogre a run for his money both were burping enough to gas and fill the swamps of Minauros.
They left together before the end of the competition, there was business to be sorting. If she had been willing to place jink on a gamble, she would have guessed the leggy blond might have given the ogre a run for his money both were burping enough to gas and fill the swamps of Minauros.
-
*Pashan01
- Posts: 304
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
...patterns and symbols, deals and negotiations, the music played on...
She allowed a sharing of self using the language of 'showing' ...placing flute to mouth, bow to hand mimicking hunting stance, sketchpad out and flipped to pages of images already seen and that portrait made. In return she obtained a promise of help with the runt from Moon-Watcher together with agreement to join in a hunt.
She allowed a sharing of self using the language of 'showing' ...placing flute to mouth, bow to hand mimicking hunting stance, sketchpad out and flipped to pages of images already seen and that portrait made. In return she obtained a promise of help with the runt from Moon-Watcher together with agreement to join in a hunt.