As she gets to where Alaric wants her, she looks up at him with a raised eyebrow, "Any crossover in skills for you?" Hands busy, but still talking.
First slow, then picking up in speed. Just like the first song he ever heard her play.
She nods, still holding you, not quite sure what you mean yet, waiting.
Lio takes a breath. Closes her eyes. She doesn't move away from you, so perhaps, you feel something moving subtly against your skin, as you hold her. What you see, is a not so very subtle change. One moment, the scars that mark her body, the tattoos that run along her entire left side are there, the next, they are gone. She is still Lio, but she is Lio as she would look today, if 87 years of slavery had not happened to her. Her skin, just as pale, is soft, smooth, blemish free. Even her hair changes, still silvery white, it lengthens evenly, to the middle of her back. She is really quite stunning, without the marks.
Afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see herself reflected in your gaze, she waits a long moment, before she is able to gather the courage to look at you.
She moves, letting her body slide together with his. A gasping shudder shoots through her body which keeps her from moving for long moments. Her hands trail down his arms, drawing one of his wrist to her mouth for a soft kiss. "Sorry, love. Can't move quite yet." Her voice low.
Lio takes a breath. Closes her eyes. She doesn't move away from you, so perhaps, you feel something moving subtly against your skin, as you hold her. What you see, is a not so very subtle change. One moment, the scars that mark her body, the tattoos that run along her entire left side are there, the next, they are gone. She is still Lio, but she is Lio as she would look today, if 87 years of slavery had not happened to her. Her skin, just as pale, is soft, smooth, blemish free. Even her hair changes, still silvery white, it lengthens evenly, to the middle of her back. She is really quite stunning, without the marks.
Afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see herself reflected in your gaze, she waits a long moment, before she is able to gather the courage to look at you.
Her eyes take you in, widening slightly as you change.
"I like the new outfit," she whispers after a moment. "Although I still like the original one, too. I think I'll like anything you wear, as long as it's you inside of it."
Making matters worse is the sight of her: flushed green, displayed for him. All for him. He swallows something dry. Closing his eyes. Summoning that crushing will. Matching his breathing to hers.
...and in the lack of motion, he seems to grow within her. As though he touches her spine, lighting it up as he goes, resolutely spreading throughout her form. Soon he is beneath that emerald skin, touching every nerve, every vein, every last cell of her. Filling her completely, from crown to toes.
Her eyes take you in, widening slightly as you change.
"I like the new outfit," she whispers after a moment. "Although I still like the original one, too. I think I'll like anything you wear, as long as it's you inside of it."
She isn't quite prepared for how easily you are able to accept her. As she lets out the breath she's been holding, her eyes tear up just a little. She doesn't cry, but you're pretty sure she's close to shedding tears. She smiles at you, partially unsure of herself, but firm in her trust of you, that you mean what you say.
"I haven't... done this... specifically. I mean... I didn't even know if it would work." She can't quite explain how overcome she is. All of a sudden she has the means to erase the visible marks of her past. She never expected this.
"I think... I could probably take on, other... uhm... forms. Like, uhm... people... women... men." The last is said with a nervous pause women... men, something that only powerful druids can do, she has figured out. "Not, animals. I still can't figure out how to do that." She adds.
From one second to the next her movements grow more graceful, more fluid. In the next moment, a bolstering strength flows into the healer from her.
She isn't quite prepared for how easily you are able to accept her. As she lets out the breath she's been holding, her eyes tear up just a little. She doesn't cry, but you're pretty sure she's close to shedding tears. She smiles at you, partially unsure of herself, but firm in her trust of you, that you mean what you say.
"I haven't... done this... specifically. I mean... I didn't even know if it would work." She can't quite explain how overcome she is. All of a sudden she has the means to erase the visible marks of her past. She never expected this.
"I think... I could probably take on, other... uhm... forms. Like, uhm... people... women... men." The last is said with a nervous pause women... men, something that only powerful druids can do, she has figured out. "Not, animals. I still can't figure out how to do that." She adds.
"Is that ... something you want to try? I mean, now, or ... eventually?"
"Is that ... something you want to try? I mean, now, or ... eventually?"
Sense motive:
"Mm... maybe" She answers, shy, overwhelmed, quite possibly curious, but feeling vulnerable and out of her element. She looks to you, to see what you want.
"Mm... maybe" She answers, shy, overwhelmed, quite possibly curious, but feeling vulnerable and out of her element. She looks to you, to see what you want.
"I am not averse to the idea ..."
She kisses you.
"Of a lover who can take ..."
And again.
"Any form I want ..."
And on the neck.
"Or any she desires ..."
And again.
"But as we have plenty of time ..."
And lower.
"Perhaps we should start by taking this one out ..."
And again.
"For a test drive."
"Oohhh..." A low sound escapes from her lips, as you convince her, that showing you her new found abilities was the right decision. You kiss down her neck, and a bit lower on her body, and her breath catches. As you move, her hands stay on you, running up your waist, over your arms and shoulders, then upper back. They find their way into your hair, where she wraps it around her hands, pulling, ever so slightly, maneuvering you to kiss a little lower still, as the bursts of pleasure your lips provide across her skin are magnified by the lack of sensation altering scar tissue. "Oh." She exhales, watching you, caught up in what you are doing, she makes small noises, part pleasure and part protest. One hand loosens its hold on your hair, and runs along the length of one of your slender ears.
"Oohhh..." A low sound escapes from her lips, as you convince her, that showing you her new found abilities was the right decision. You kiss down her neck, and a bit lower on her body, and her breath catches. As you move, her hands stay on you, running up your waist, over your arms and shoulders, then upper back. They find their way into your hair, where she wraps it around her hands, pulling, ever so slightly, maneuvering you to kiss a little lower still, as the bursts of pleasure your lips provide across her skin are magnified by the lack of sensation altering scar tissue. "Oh." She exhales, watching you, caught up in what you are doing, she makes small noises, part pleasure and part protest. One hand loosens its hold on your hair, and runs along the length of one of your slender ears.
A little gasp escapes her as you stroke her ear. She continues to kiss her way down your body.
Slowly.
A little gasp escapes her as you stroke her ear. She continues to kiss her way down your body.
Slowly.
Each kiss is a wonderful torment. Lio squirms, gasping, and very quietly, small sounds of pleasure escape her lips.
She in turn, lets go of your hair, both of her hands now gently teasing your ears, running along the length, caressing with a featherlight touch.
Hrunndalf waits until Ulf and Uksahkka are ready to leave. "Veistu góður staður?"
Hrunndalf waits until Ulf and Uksahkka are ready to leave. "Veistu góður staður?"
"Já, það er staður yfir á ís ársfjórðungi mér líkar," Ulf answers.
That afternoon, before everyone leaves for their evening plans, Hrunndalf seeks out Ameiko for a quick word.
"There are some places that I like, but I thought maybe the two of us should go someplace new together," she replies.
Myri nods smiling in agreement.
"And since you bring up your tastes, I was hoping to discuss the ... dire elephant in the room, as it were, on the early side tonight."
Myriana raises an eyebrow with a quizzical look, apparently completely not understanding, but accepting the question be asked whenever Buttersnips is ready.
"How about here?" she asks, indicating a place buzzing with activity.
Myri smiles, gives a brief nod and turns towards the busy establishment.
"Um, sooo...maybe this is a bit forward...I apologize if I'm not supposed to ask this, but...I assume you've had other um, significant relationships in the past?"
That afternoon, before everyone leaves for their evening plans, Hrunndalf seeks out Ameiko for a quick word.
"Sure, if it's quick," Ameiko says, amiably and apparently completely oblivious to the fact that Hrunndalf is trying to keep the conversation quiet. "I'm a little rushed right now, but I can make some time if you need it. What's up?"
Myri smiles, gives a brief nod and turns towards the busy establishment.
"Um, sooo...maybe this is a bit forward...I apologize if I'm not supposed to ask this, but...I assume you've had other um, significant relationships in the past?"
"Not really," Buttersnips answers as you find a table. "A couple of flings, but nothing serious. I'm really not all that old, by the standards of my people."
The menus are written in Tien. Buttersnips peruses one.
"What I was talking about earlier was this," she says, looking at the menu. "I think you find me attractive. But I think you also find me disturbing. And I don't think this even has a chance of going anywhere unless we can come to a point of understanding on the second part."
"Not really," Buttersnips answers as you find a table. "A couple of flings, but nothing serious. I'm really not all that old, by the standards of my people."
"Well, I guess that makes two of us. Myri says perhaps just a little shyly.
The menus are written in Tien. Buttersnips peruses one.
"What I was talking about earlier was this," she says, looking at the menu. "I think you find me attractive. But I think you also find me disturbing. And I don't think this even has a chance of going anywhere unless we can come to a point of understanding on the second part."
A moment of shock as Myri realizes Buttersnips is right and at least in this case apparently knows Myriana better than she knows herself, which is abject violation of one of her Dad's rules: "First know thyself, then know thy enemy." she pauses, recovering, "I...think you are right. I...am glad that you brought it up." Myri is still reeling a bit, at least mentally, she glances at the menu in front of her, but says nothing more for the time being.
"Sure, if it's quick," Ameiko says, amiably and apparently completely oblivious to the fact that Hrunndalf is trying to keep the conversation quiet. "I'm a little rushed right now, but I can make some time if you need it. What's up?"
"It will only take a minute." He motions to the side with a tilt of the head. "Can we speak privately?" He smiles in a conspiratory fashion.
"It will only take a minute." He motions to the side with a tilt of the head. "Can we speak privately?"
Alright, Koya, here we go again. Wish me luck.
"I would like to take you there, before we move on North. Show you the view. Now, problem is, there's no path anymore these days. One would have to scale the cliffs. Unless... one could tread on thin air. As it happens, I know a certain sword who can convey that ability."
"Even with magic, though, it's not for the faint of heart. We'd have a sheer drop beneath our feet on the ascent and descent. I completely understand if you're not up for it." He gives a wicked grin, in good nature, yet... challenging.
A moment of shock as Myri realizes Buttersnips is right and at least in this case apparently knows Myriana better than she knows herself, which is abject violation of one of her Dad's rules: "First know thyself, then know thy enemy." she pauses, recovering, "I...think you are right. I...am glad that you brought it up." Myri is still reeling a bit, at least mentally, she glances at the menu in front of her, but says nothing more for the time being.
Buttersnips takes a deep breath.
“All right,“ she replies. “Then there are a few things I want to start off by saying.”
”The first is – I can be sweet. I can be charming. I can be attentive, considerate, fun. But one thing I will never be is ... comfortable. I have peaks and lows and jagged edges. I have, in short, emotions, and sometimes they are turbulent. If you can’t be, or don’t want to be, with someone who’s not comfortable, tell me now, and we’ll have a nice dinner and chat and go back to the Inn as friends.”
”If that’s not an impossible stumbling block, then I think there are two things that bother you. The manner in which I acquire the material for my art, and the art itself.”
”I’ve been thinking about the first, how I gather materials, and have decided it is ... negotiable, if it needs to be. I can compromise on that without compromising myself. If, in order to move forward, you want me to go about that in a different way, then we can talk, and come to an agreement that makes us both happy, I think.”
”But the second, the art itself, is not negotiable. I cannot and will not compromise.”
”You’ve said it reminds you of things from your past. Dark things, that you don’t want to think about. As an artist, all I can think is – good. Then it’s achieved something.”
”My art isn’t intended to be ... well, comfortable. It’s supposed to make you think. React. Examine. And if it’s dragging something into the light that has been kept locked away, then that is a good thing, as far as I’m concerned as its creator. Something that is a part of you should not be buried, to fester and frighten and decay in your head. It should be brought out and looked at and told, ‘You are my dark place. You are my fear or my rage or my jealousy or my grief. I know you, and I own you, and now I can do with you what I will.””
”I make art that reaches for those places, for that reason. I will always make art that reaches for those places, for those reasons. It is my calling and my purpose and my meaning and my goal. And if it matters, I don’t think I could make something like this,” she indicates her dress, ”without having made the others. I understand the play of light because I know all the shades of darkness.”
"So ..." She seems to run out of words, and smiles a little ruefully. "That probably wasn't the most sensible thing for me to do on a first date."
She sits back, and waits for your response.
... "I would like to take you there, before we move on North. Show you the view. Now, problem is, there's no path anymore these days. One would have to scale the cliffs. Unless... one could tread on thin air. As it happens, I know a certain sword who can convey that ability."
"Even with magic, though, it's not for the faint of heart. We'd have a sheer drop beneath our feet on the ascent and descent. I completely understand if you're not up for it." He gives a wicked grin, in good nature, yet... challenging.
"Sounds fun," she says, answering your grin. "I've always said, what's the point of traveling the world if you never stop to scale the occasional impassible cliff?"
Something Ameiko said makes Hrunndalf laugh.
"Shall we say, tomorrow at noon? Or will you be needing a day to shop for hiking attire?" There is that wicked smile again.
He continues, slightly more serious: "Let's make sure we get our winterland boots purchased beforehand. They'll come in handy. I'll bring horses and provisions. I suppose the ascent should take us about an hour, that leaves us plenty of time to enjoy the view and make it down safely. Last one on the summit buys dinner?" Clearly he intends to lose that race.
While Kalimac has been picking up the basics of the Tien and Skald languages--and could probably handle ordering from a menu at this point all by himself--he feigns difficulty and has Ameiko help him with selecting an entree.
As far as you can tell, she seems to buy it, and happily translates from the Tien. The restaurant offers a variety of foods in the style of several countries of Tian Xia.
When a waiter comes by, she orders something in Tian you are fairly sure translates to "Ants Climbing Up A Tree".
"Excellent," says Hrunndalf, beaming. "A word to live by."
"Shall we say, tomorrow at noon? Or will you be needing a day to shop for hiking attire?" There is that wicked smile again.
He continues, slightly more serious: "Let's make sure we get our winterland boots purchased beforehand. They'll come in handy. I'll bring horses and provisions. I suppose the ascent should take us about an hour, that leaves us plenty of time to enjoy the view and make it down safely. Last one on the summit buys dinner?" Clearly he intends to lose that race.
"Sounds like a plan," she answers. "And I'll try to restrict my shopping activities tomorrow to a mere morning."
Each kiss is a wonderful torment. Lio squirms, gasping, and very quietly, small sounds of pleasure escape her lips.
She in turn, lets go of your hair, both of her hands now gently teasing your ears, running along the length, caressing with a featherlight touch.
Her lips, tongue, and occasionally teeth continue to work their way down your newly sensitized skin, nerve endings that were dead only a short time ago waking up in response.
So gradually you almost did not notice it happen, she is kneeling in front of you, her mouth slowly traveling across the crease where your left leg joins your body, working her way from the outside to the inside.
"Sounds like a plan," she answers. "And I'll try to restrict my shopping activities tomorrow to a mere morning."
Hrunndalf nods gravely. "I appreciate the sacrifice. We have a... a plan, then." The word "date" silently hangs in the air for a brief moment, but Hrunndalf narrowly avoids it so as not to break the façade of their competitive relationship.
Her lips, tongue, and occasionally teeth continue to work their way down your newly sensitized skin, nerve endings that were dead only a short time ago waking up in response.
So gradually you almost did not notice it happen, she is kneeling in front of you, her mouth slowly traveling across the crease where your left leg joins your body, working her way from the outside to the inside.
She's normally very quiet. Even, in heights of passion, she rarely cries out, and when she does, it is generally at a muted volume. This time, you can hear her clearly, although the soft whimpers and breaths emanating from her still don't travel outside the room.
She tries to focus on giving you pleasure by stroking your sensitive ears, but she has a hard time maintaining a constant rhythm, so overwhelmed is she by what she is feeling, thus, unintentionally turning her soft touches into a very sensually teasing experience, quite possibly heightening your own desire.
Barely managing to stand up, she is quite close to clutching your hair. "Annwyl." She breathes, her soft tone filled with a wanton lust that is at the same time quite innocently vulnerable.
She's normally very quiet. Even, in heights of passion, she rarely cries out, and when she does, it is generally at a muted volume. This time, you can hear her clearly, although the soft whimpers and breaths emanating from her still don't travel outside the room.
She tries to focus on giving you pleasure by stroking your sensitive ears, but she has a hard time maintaining a constant rhythm, so overwhelmed is she by what she is feeling, thus, unintentionally turning her soft touches into a very sensually teasing experience, quite possibly heightening your own desire.
Barely managing to stand up, she is quite close to clutching your hair. "Annwyl." She breathes, her soft tone filled with a wanton lust that is at the same time quite innocently vulnerable.
Her own breathing is ragged as you tease her ears. It is possible she had intended to wait until you were both in the water to do anything; if that was her plan, she was unable to wait and is certainly incapable of stopping now. Her hands snake around to your backside to help keep you upright and press you in closer to her.
When you call her Annwyl, her mouth instinctively finds your center.
Kalimac is indeed a brave knight, but secret suspects (and hopes) that "Ants Climbing Up A Tree" is a figurative name. Like "Pigs in a Blanket".
"Did you want to get two dishes to share?" she asks. "I pick one, you pick the other?"
Whatever your answer, when the ordering is done, she says, "So. Want to tell me a bit about Kalimac Proudfoot, International Hobbit of Mystery?"
Hrunndalf nods gravely. "I appreciate the sacrifice. We have a... a plan, then." The word "date" silently hangs in the air for a brief moment, but Hrunndalf narrowly avoids it so as not to break the façade of their competitive relationship.
Ameiko smiles at you, nods, and wanders off to attend to whatever tasks she had.
Her own breathing is ragged as you tease her ears. It is possible she had intended to wait until you were both in the water to do anything; if that was her plan, she was unable to wait and is certainly incapable of stopping now. Her hands snake around to your backside to help keep you upright and press you in closer to her.
When you call her Annwyl, her mouth instinctively finds your center.
She can't help but grasp your hair in both her hands, tightly holding on, pulling it in a very pleasant manner. Trying desperately to stay upright, your insistent hands possibly the only thing keeping her from becoming a quivering mass upon the floor, she is overwhelmed by pleasure she had not expected to feel.
Lio moans, unable to do anything but cling to you for a very long moment as she gives in to the wonderful sensations. Eventually, somehow, one hand releases your hair, and finds its way back to your ear, stroking it, a little less gently this time. The other hand, still against your scalp, pulls upon your hair insistently.
She can't help but grasp your hair in both her hands, tightly holding on, pulling it in a very pleasant manner. Trying desperately to stay upright, your insistent hands possibly the only thing keeping her from becoming a quivering mass upon the floor, she is overwhelmed by pleasure she had not expected to feel.
Lio moans, unable to do anything but cling to you for a very long moment as she gives in to the wonderful sensations. Eventually, somehow, one hand releases your hair, and finds its way back to your ear, stroking it, a little less gently this time. The other hand, still against your scalp, pulls upon your hair insistently.
There are muffled noises coming from below you as you touch her ears and hair, and her hands clench more tightly at your rear, but she manages to keep her focus on you, slowly, skillfully ... and relentlessly.
There are muffled noises coming from below you as you touch her ears and hair, and her hands clench more tightly at your rear, but she manages to keep her focus on you, slowly, skillfully ... and relentlessly.
Your skill far outweighs her ability to keep her self control. Building towards release, her muscles clench, she breathes heavily, moaning softly as she exhales. The fingers playing with your ear, frantic, as they rub back and forth along the sensitive length. Pulling on your hair, she cries out in pleasure as she looses herself in your ministrations.
Your skill far outweighs her ability to keep her self control. Building towards release, her muscles clench, she breathes heavily, moaning softly as she exhales. The fingers playing with your ear, frantic, as they rub back and forth along the sensitive length. Pulling on your hair, she cries out in pleasure as she looses herself in your ministrations.
As you get closer and closer, she slows down, drawing it out as you grow more and more frantic, until each stroke of her tongue almost brings you there in and of itself, each one a separate experience of almost coming, until you are teetering on the crest, cannot possibly stop the release, the next one is certain to bring you over ...
And then she stops being slow.