Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Malrunar on 04-05-2011, 23:56:21</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>04-05-2011, 23:56:21</strong>
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				After a while they all looked the same to her.<br><br>It was the same damn dusty road with some sort of green shrub that grew off to one side, normally favoring the shadows of the water tower. Cacti scattered about to try and make things look interesting, while muted, sun-bleached buildings jutted from the flat earth in the weakest attempt at civilization that Charmane Kross (http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn313/NovemberWerewolf/Female%20Characters/Dangerous_Woman_1_by_Rive6-1.jpg) has ever seen. The people were dull, the creativity was something to be desired and everyone had the habit of staring at the woman –at first with interest– and then as realization settled in on who she was, object horror.<br><br><em>This is getting old, Priest.</em><br><br>She liked to pretend that the old man could hear her. That somewhere he was sitting in an old rocking chair that squeaked as he perched on a porch and looked out over whatever view that man would have fancied. Not this barren landscape; some place back in Ireland with rolling green hills that were interrupted only by the white tuffs of sheep-ass, and the stone penny dividers that separated the land. Something simple, the Priest hadn’t been a complicated man.<br><br>Tyro, the red stallion she was riding, snorted and flicked his ears back, swishing his ebony tail to swat at a fly. Apparently he was about as pleased to see this sort of place as she was. With something that might have been a smirk once upon a time (and now was so faded and muted it was hardly a twitch of her lips at all) teased her full lips. It slipped away just as quickly as it had come as the woman reached forward to swat at a fly that had landed on her horse’s ear. <em>Even the horse is sick of this. Why did you keep doing it? Why the hell do I?</em><br><br>Charmane wiped sweat off of her brow, thankful for the sun that was beginning to slope down towards the flat surface of the earth. In an hour it would be full dark and a more comfortable temperature, one that would be celebrated by a bath, and, if she can find herself a whore, a good massage. Riding for four days straight hadn’t limbered her up any.<br><br><em>Did you just turn over in your grave? The very women you ranted about, trying to save their souls… and I’m going to pay one good coin for services. You crotchety old man…</em><br><br>Tyro moved them forward, stopping in front of the saloon which was her cue to dismount. Kross slid off of her stallion with ease, landing gracefully on her feet before she patted Tyro on his neck. There was no need to tether him. Any would-be horse thief would find that Tyro had a stubborn mind of his own and wouldn’t allow anyone but Kross to ride him, and even if they tried; well she had no problem with delivering cold iron into their hearts to prove her point. “Don’t be a gluttin’,” She scolded the horse, poking him in the belly with the knuckles of her fingers. Tyro’s ears went back as he huffed, jerking his head in annoyance.<br><br>“You drink too much and you’ll get the ache, and remember the last time?”<br><br>The horse stomped and snorted, flattening his ears before he received a good eyeing from Kross. She turned around and headed inside. Charmane wasn’t scheduled to meet with the sheriff until the morning. ‘Proper business hours’ or some nonsense like that, which left the rest of the evening for the bounty hunter to get herself a room and a stable for her horse. A bath was in order… a massage… and a drink.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>05-05-2011, 01:15:24</strong>
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				The saloon had no name, no sign, and no shingle above the door. In towns such as Riverton people fell into two camps; those that knew which building the saloon was, , or those to whom it was painfully obvious. Sonny Jamison owned the boarding house cum watering hole cum house of ill repute, and folk in Riverton had a habit of just calling it Sonny’s. <br><br>At the end of the dusty road, behind the swinging doors on unoiled hinges, the interior had all of the originality of the opening scene of a dime store novel, where the grizzled drifter floats into town and enters the rowdy candlelit taproom. Against the wall beneath the stairway stood a player piano, screeching out a tinny, poorly tuned song. A grizzled quartet of miners played cards, chips scattered before them as their fortunes rose and fell over the frenzied course of gambling. The bottles were dark and unlabeled, glinting beneath the candelabra with a rich promise.&nbsp; And the whores, painted and corseted, cooling themselves with feathery fans.<br><br>The barman was the only break in stereotype; tradition practically demanded that he be past middle age, hefty, and heavily mustached. The man serving drinks was young and clean-shaven, with a shock of red Irish hair and the fair skin that was perpetually sunburned beneath the Western glare. And Charmane heard that he had a lyrical Irish brogue as he rose his voice in greeting as she entered, a greeting that died stillborn as he took in the gun at her hip and the grit in her eye.<br><br>The barman’s hesitance turned heads towards her, first in those that were closest to him, and then in a cascading tide the entire compliment of ranch hands at the bar, and from there across the rest of the saloon. The only person that did not stare daggers at her was the piano player, who picked away at his tune with what could only be called malice towards the composer.<br><br>The stares in her direction lasted only a moment, before every person in the room decided as one to look away again, anywhere else, and quickly. It was an attitude common to small towns with dark secrets; instant fear and suspicion directed towards strangers, which curdled to fear with the least hint that the stranger might also be a dangerous person.<br><br>That fear read as clear as a telegraph when not a single person made so much as a rude snigger at the sight of a woman with a gun belt. Beneath a mask of ordinariness as thin and transparent as the makeup on the whores, the town had been whipped like a dog. They looked like they’d jump half out of their skin if she so much as said, “Boo.”<br><br>But to get to the point where she’d be called either meant that the sheriff had more spine than the folk in the taproom, or things had taken a turn from the bad to the really bad, the kind of bad that will drive even a whipped dog to bite back. Either way, Riverton was a town with a problem two shades above terrified. <br><br>Space opened up for her like she was Moses waving down a wagon. The bartender gave her a look, and Charmane thought it would be unwise to play cards with the man. He gave her a face as blank as a Greek drama mask as she bellied up to the bar. Even before she’d had a chance to open her mouth, he tipped two fingers of whiskey into a reasonably clean class and slid it in front of her. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>05-05-2011, 21:13:28</strong>
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				Charmane’s faith in people had diminished greatly. While saying that it was non-existent would be edging on a lie, these frightened people failed to touch her heart or strike the need for justice in her core. Too many times has she seen the wary glances, and too many times has she experienced the way they rotted the core and corrupted a town. It was the twisted service of life; a blessing that was often taken for granted and feared, rather than understood and experienced. These people were mostly uneducated, and so wrapped up in their lives that despite their desire for freedom, they feared change more than the monsters that lurked beneath the surface.<br><br>Charmane ignored them; the creak of her chaps and the leather belts supporting her Colt .45s momentarily echoed the music, before murmuring continued and the men and occasional woman went back to their gambling and their drinks. She wasn’t here for them; she wasn’t here for the money that would find its way in her wallet. She too was a creature of habit, and despite the absence of Priest, Charmane was also afraid of change.<br><br>After all, how could a person like her possibly ever hope to settle down and kick her feet up? She was blessed with life and the gift of keeping it, yet the devil followed in her tracks and enjoyed rearing his ugly head anytime she stayed somewhere for too long without fail.<br><br>The baby-faced Irishman hardly received a glance; just a passing sweep of her eyes, before Charmane sat at the bar and removed her spectacles, folding the arms down and tucking them in her shirt. The whiskey arrived without her need to summon in, and just as intuitively, a silver piece rolled across her knuckles before hitting the oiled bar top. It proceeded to roll towards the ginger and dropped into his awaiting palm.<br><br>“I’ll be needin’ a room with privacy for ‘least a week. A hot bath an’ one of your ladies here who can rub leather out of cattle. Also a stable for my horse, who needs to be properly watered and fed.”<br><br>The stoic faced Irishman nodded, indicating that he understood her words, but made no further indication that he’d comply. Money that seemed to have been conjured from her hand found its way into his fist, and by the amount he was able to glance and estimate, it made him happy enough to leave the bottle for her, before heading towards his register. “Make it a hot bath,” her voice called out, a husky purr that rose above the music. No nod indicated that he heard, but Charmane suspected that he’d oblige, he still hadn't got used to the coins warming his hand.<br><br>Charmane took her first shot and filled the next, licking her lips as the alcohol burned down the lining of her stomach, and pooled there, content and warm like a cat.<br><br>She missed Irish whiskey; the stuff that Priest would sip and beg god for his forgiveness after each swallow. That had been tart as lines but as smooth as honey, and didn’t give her an ache in the skull come morning like brain rot.<br><br>Kross took the second shot before pulling the hat from her head, and setting the dusty leather on her knee. She was looking forward to that bath; but more so to a massage that would ease the ache in her back and the tension in her shoulders. There was a fight in the future after all… there always was, and she was at her best after she relaxed.<br><br>Besides; her life expectancy wasn’t long; maybe a few more years before something tougher, luckier and faster than Charmane came along. She intended to indulge where she may.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>05-05-2011, 22:44:53</strong>
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				“Sheriff! Sheriff!” the Smith boy cried. John Taylor was shaken out of something too shallow and too brief to be called sleep of any proper sort, and his eyes opened just as the flushed young man burst in the jailhouse doors. The stocky young man was red the devil, and panted in heaving gasps as he stood in the doorway.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/292/a/6/a_cowboy_by_celesse-d313uce.jpg)</div>John Taylor was a man who was blessed (or cursed by your point of view) with the masculine beauty that extends past youth into adulthood. Clean shaven, delicately featured, he could pass for a boy years away from his first whiskey, let alone the badge of office pinned to his long beige duster. Until you got a look at his eyes, you could be forgiven for dismissing him as a pampered dandy’s son. But those eyes were too weary, had seen too much pain in too little time to be mistaken for anything but what they were.<br><br>Jaded.<br><br>Taylor took his feet off the desk and stood, wincing as his knees and back popped. The bit of shut-eye he’d gotten hadn’t been nearly enough to wipe the burning tiredness from his eyes, but it had been just enough to make him stiffen up like a wet sheet in the middle of winter. “What is it, son?”<br><br>Despite there being no more than a year’s difference in ages between the two, it did not seem at all out of sorts that Taylor should refer to the Smith boy in such a way. Part of it was down to a natural air of leadership about Taylor that others could not help but be swayed by. Part of it was that, practically alone among the townsfolk, Taylor had stared the monsters in their midst square in the eye and had not flinched.<br><br>“Stranger in town,” said the Smith boy. He needed another panting lungful before he could bear to stand up straight, and if he had stopped to notice it, he would have realized that he stood a head and a half taller than Taylor. But he did not, and looked up at the Sheriff even as he looked down into his eyes. “Lady ain’t no one never seen before.”<br><br>Taylor nodded, not seeming overly interested behind tired eyes. “Folks come in, Aaron,” he said, when it was clear that the Smith boy was waiting for his reaction. “She by herself?”<br><br>Aaron nodded, and ran a hand through his hair. “She’s got a gun on her.”<br><br>A shrug. “Lots of folk have guns. Sheriff Contiff tried to pass an ordinance to keep them out of town, but that didn’t go over so well for him.” He started to lower himself into his seat, hoping to catch an hour or two’s shut eye before the last lingering traces of the sun vanished from the western sky, and his job really got interesting.<br><br>“Yes, sir, but listen! She stabled her horse over at Sonny’s and Clay got a look at the stiching on her saddle and gear, and it’s all crosses.”<br><br>John froze with half of his weight caught in the transition between his legs and the padded wooden platform of the chair. “Crosses?”<br><br>“Yes, sir. Plain crosses and crucifixes and some strange furren types. You told us to keep a look out for a holy man and I know she ain’t a man, sir, but who else has crosses in their saddle stitches?”<br><br>“Why indeed?” Taylor asked. <br><br>“You reckon she stole her horse from this holy man you’re waiting for?” Aaron asked. He had an excited glint in his eye, as if he couldn’t wait to tell half the town how he had helped catch a horse rustler from someone who had robbed a preacher.<br><br>“It’s possible,” Taylor said. “She’s over at Sonny’s?” Aaron nodded. “Then I suppose I had best look into things. Thank you, Aaron. Keep this close for a few hours, mmm? No sense letting…keen ears in on this.” The pause had only been a fraction of a second, but Aaron sensed the warning implied. He nodded hastily.<br><br>“All right then. Carry on,” Taylor said. Aaron left, in far less of a hurry than he’d entered, but Taylor could see that, despite his agreement towards secrecy, he had less than an hour before it got out that the stranger in town had murdered and robbed an entire convent. He had best not dally, then.<br><br>Walking with the deliberate care of a man many years his age, Taylor left the jailhouse and Sheriff’s office, his booted feet padding softly against the firm-packed dirt of the street. The lit windows of Sonny’s loomed ahead, and he strode forth like a man going out to his own execution.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>06-05-2011, 01:39:01</strong>
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				Charmane grabbed the bottle by the neck as if it were a chicken about to be skinned, pushing herself away from the counter before finding her feet. Some of the folk in the place tried to be casual with their glances; others tensed as she grabbed her hat off of the bar, and tapped it against her thigh. Dust from the road settled to the wooden planks below her boots, revealing the black suede that protected her head from the sun. Along the band were a variety of white bones that, only on the closest of examinations, revealed them to be bones.<br><br>Vampire fangs cost a pretty penny; but the claws of Lycans, which Charmane hated the most, were so rare that to see them decorating her hat said quite a lot of the woman. It might even explain the scar that started at her shoulder and dropped down to her flank, marring her sun-kissed skin with the pink consistency of melted plastic.<br><br>It was hidden now, beneath her clothes. Only a fading cut on her cheek was evident, and an old bruise that had her favoring her left side when standing or stretching. Three months spent healing in a covenant had done wonders, but there were some things that needed more time.<br><br><em>Why the hell are we here, doing this same damn thing again, Priest?</em> The bottle was lifted to her lips, and Kross was pleased to find her muscles loosening from the effects of the alcohol. She turned without a wobble towards the stairs, ignoring the glances and the eyes boring at her back as she sauntered towards the ginger, who handed her a key. <em>And why the hell am I talking to a dead man?</em><br><br>Priest was the only one who ever fancied talking back. Maybe she missed it?<br><br>Up the stairs and down a narrow hallway, Charmane located her room and booted open the door. Inside were the typical no-thrills boarding room she expected; a bed, complete with mismatching, handmade quilts that would be far too warm for this summer heat. A chair that looked to be near the end of its life was nestled in the corner near a narrow window, and on a dresser sat a basin and a matching water jug. What Charmane wasn’t expecting was a second door, and before she could step to investigate, it opened to reveal an older woman dressed in a red bodice that lifted her tits to her throat and gave her a waist so small her organs must have been in a liquid state. Blond hair was neatly piled on the top of her head, and a slight smile accentuated her full lips.<br><br>“Sonny-Boy said you were lookin’ for a wash and a rub down?”<br><br>Kross didn’t so much as bat a lash, before her hat was dropped on the bed, and her fingers began to loosen her belts. “You stronger than you look?”<br><br>“Are you really the sort tae be judgin’ characters, Miss?”<br><br>Kross smirked, and like the scars on her body, it was crooked and somehow beautiful at the same time. A flash of white teeth stood as a stark contrast against the grit coating her skin. “So long as you’re no minute-man… I’ll see how well you hold up to your claims.”<br><br>“Honey, I’m a lady of pleasure. I know just what you be needin’.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>06-05-2011, 15:27:23</strong>
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				Like many desert towns, sunset in Riverton was an affair that lasted hours, but the descent into night was quick as the snuffing of a candle flame. It happened at some point between the time that John left the Sheriff’s office and when he arrived at Sonny’s. The lamplighters had already made their circuits and lit the lanterns every twenty feet or so along the main street. It left every side street and blind alley still black as pitch, but it was a change he’d instituted during his brief tenure as sheriff, and walking unafraid in the night on his own street was an accomplishment.<br><br>Taylor entered the saloon, seeing at a glance that there wasn’t a stranger in the taproom. Once, Riverton had been prosperous. Two decades ago, there had been gold found in the foothills, and it had drawn the miners from across half the county.&nbsp; The town had grown up around them, and even though the promise of easy gold had been a false one, Riverton had not yet died.<br><br>It had attracted vultures, though. And they had not waited until the town had died before beginning to feast on its flesh.<br><br>John enjoyed a significantly warmer welcome than Kross had. He’d been a boy clutching his mother’s apron strings when his father had sent for them, and while he might have some distant memories of more genteel settings, a garden in which he played, a grand city street where he’d walked, those memories were as unfocused as dimly remembered dreams. He was a local, through and through, and the people knew it, knew him. There might be tension with his way of doing things, now that he wore the star, but with these outsiders among them, the people of Riverton would show nothing but solidarity to one of their own.<br><br>Taylor made a beeline for the side of the bar to have a word with Sonny. The Irishman made his way over to the sheriff, a scrap of clean linen over his shoulder. He offered Taylor a firm handshake. “Evenin’, John,” he said. “Get you a short beer?”<br><br>“No thanks. The Smith boy said there was a stranger.” Sonny’s mouth tightened in an understated frown, but he gave a nod. <br><br>“She paid silver,” Sonny said, a fact that signified a great deal more than was apparent on the surface.<br><br>“Gloves?” <br><br>Sonny took a moment to think it over. It had only been a moment or two that the woman was at the bar, and he hadn’t been looking at her hands. John read this in the bartender’s expression, he knew him that well. Of course, he knew him well enough to venture a guess as to where the Irishman <strong>had</strong> been looking. “Don’t believe so,” he said after consideration.<br><br>“All right. Last question, and it’s an important one. Did she come in while the sun was still out?”<br><br>An even longer pause, this one distinctly an uncomfortable one. Sonny looked away from John’s open, earnest stare, as if he had just remembered a chore he’d neglected in the kitchen. <br><br>“Sonny!” Taylor said with gentle but unmistakable firmness.<br><br>“Might have. Might not have. Not sure,” he said. A moment later, “She paid silver.”<br><br>&nbsp;John gave a stoic nod, not giving voice to the flash of anger that boiled his stomach with soured bile. “Where is she?”<br><br>“Upstairs. Room four. She asked for a bath.” A pause. “And company?”<br><br>“Who?”<br><br>“Emma. John?”<br><br>“Hmm?”<br><br>“What’s this all about?” The barman leaned in. “You think she’s one of them?”<br><br>“Maybe,” Taylor said. “Probably not. But maybe.”<br><br>Sonny nodded, but Taylor didn’t offer anything else. Before he could ask a question that he might have to lie to, the lawman turned away, giving Sonny a nod of thanks. “I’ll see you.”<br><br>Taylor took the stairs one at a time. He knew the second floor of the saloon as well as he knew the names and faces downstairs. He knew which floorboards to step around, and he made as much noise as a wary cat as he padded down the cramped hallway. Automatically, but not unconsciously, he checked that his Model 3 was loose in the holster, and that he had rotated the cylinder away from the empty chamber. <br><br>Inside room four, Taylor heard a pair of feminine voices. One was strange to him; the other was unmistakably Emma’s. The door muffled in conversation, but Taylor had a sharp ear, and judged that the two were no more than four feet away from one another, if their volume was any indication. <br><br>“Time to earn your pay,” he told himself. It was a habit he was utterly unaware that he had. In tense moments, he had would give himself gently phrased orders, almost the same way Dad would have done. <br><br>Standing just off center of the doorway, Taylor reached out his hand and nudged it open.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>06-05-2011, 21:51:23</strong>
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				Leather chaps hit the metal rails of Charmane’s bed without ceremony, dropping more dust to the gritty floors before that too settled. Her boots were already off, standing near the nightstands as if waiting to be filled. She was currently working the buttons of her trousers as Emma sat at the edge of the large soaking tub, leisurely adding buckets of steaming water. Charmane had neglected her offer of adding herbs or oils to the bath, as nice as they smelled; the last thing she wanted was to tip off any soon-be-prey by smelling of lavender or roses.<br><br>“You sure don’t look like no hunter I’d ever imagine.” Charmane didn’t bristle at these words, nor did she seem to notice them much at all. Part of the advantage she had was being underestimated; she might give off the vibe of dangerous, but it wasn’t until Kross was pulling her guns and throwing her blades that the facts ever settled in. Not only did she look dangerous, but she <em>was</em> dangerous. That was the exact reason why Charmane never settled down; danger seemed to attract people like honey did to bears. Some found it irresistible.<br><br>Her trousers dropped to the ground, before they were snatched up and draped over a chair to be cleaned. “Good.” Kross began to work the buttons of her long, white shirt, before falling short and freezing all together. Hazel eyes flicked to the door, and while there was no creak on those steps or heavy labored breathing, intuition told the woman that the numbers on the second floor were soon increasing. She removed one of the colts from her holster, padding silently into the bathroom where Emma was adding another bucket of water, still talking.<br><br>Charmane signaled for the woman to continue, who went on without a hitch, only looking mildly troubled at seeing the weapon. “Not much of a conversationalist, are you, Sugar?”<br><br>Charmane moved up along the door that led to the hall, lifting up on the door knob as she opened it, so as to relieve the pressure on the gritty hinges. Not a sound rose as she cracked open the door, peak out through the slit to see the young man on the other side. After frowning, she silently stepped out into the hall, as silent and graceful as the wind through smoke. The door silently closed behind her, and Emma kept rambling on in the bathroom, as if nothing were the matter.<br><br>He was likely the same height as her; but with boots on his feet it wasn’t easy to tell. Charmane herself stood flat foot, her white button up shirt the only thing keeping her modest in the abandoned hall way. Her hair feathered over her shoulders, her pistol sat inches from the base of his skull, and as he peaked inside, pushing the door open, Charmane cocked the weapon and spoke, low and easy.<br><br>“Best you lift your hands nice and slow, less you wish me to paint these walls with your blood. I only give one warning, kid, so consider this yours. Don’t fuck with me.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>07-05-2011, 23:41:59</strong>
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				<em>The hell?</em> Taylor thought. He was more surprised than fear struck. Young as he was, he was the son of country folk, and he made no more noise in town or in the brush than a cat. The only people…if people was the right word…to ever get the drop on him were those possessed of more than strictly human senses. And at that, John WAS afraid that Kross was something other than a human being. A single bead of sweat trickled on down beneath the brim of his hat as he concentrated on staying absolutely, perfectly still.<br><br>But the fear vanished beneath his rational mind like a wrinkle beneath a flat iron. <em>She’s been associated with silver and crosses alike since she got into town. Don’t flatter yourself. She’s only human; she just out-foxed you. Probably a good thing; teach you some humility. Now just don’t let the lesson get you killed.</em><br><br>John’s hands crept into the air with exaggerated slowness. He turned them at the wrists to show her that he wasn’t palming a knife or attempting any other piece of subterfuge. Emma had stopped her stream of distracting prattle, and leaned against the far wall of the bedroom, watching the scene play out in the doorframe with amused disinterest.<br><br>But then, cunning and crafty as Kross was, she made one fatal mistake.<br><br>She let him start talking.<br><br>“Now, shooting me is a bad idea for a whole host of reasons,” he said with helpful cheerfulness. “I’ll give you the best three.<br><br>“First, that there is my cousin in front of us.” He indicated Emma with an infinitesimal nod towards the painted blond, who shrugged like admitting to having a venereal disease. “We’re not exactly close as kin maybe ought to be, but I still think she’d take it amiss if you put a bullet in me. Maybe enough that you’d have to go to the bother of making alternate arrangements for the evening, which doesn’t strike me as worth the bother.<br><br>“Second, think of what would happen in the after. You could argue self-defense, and it might stand up, even with me dead of a shot to the back of the head, but you’d still have to argue it in front of the judge. We only see a Ranger but once a fortnight, and he just came through two days ago. That’s twelve days you’d be detained, another five to see the territorial courthouse, and however long it took from there to get you in front of the judge. Is it really worth all that.”<br><br>John was talking on autopilot at this point, his eyes sweeping the interior of the room, noticing her discarded boots, her hat, and, in a sight that made him almost stutter over a word, her neatly set-aside trousers. His mouth refused to wait for his brain to draw the inevitable conclusion, and kept on talking.<br><br>“Third, I’m the only one authorized to dispense payment from the town treasury for the collection of a bounty, and I can’t do that if I’m dead. I’m the sheriff, you see.” He said this last with a broad, earnest smile, as if they were meeting over a beer instead of at gunpoint. “John Taylor, at your service. I’m guessing that Father Murray sent you to help us deal with our little vampire problem.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>08-05-2011, 01:57:38</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Talking rarely did her any good in a fight; but that was mostly due to the fact that the things Charmane killed weren’t human. Not anymore, at least. Priest had said little that didn’t relate to the bible, their conversations mostly involved plotting, planning and educating, and little on topics such as the weather or how one fared. It didn’t suit her life-style, and if you dropped your guard even for a moment, that’s when you found yourself preparing for death.<br><br>Priest had smiled at her, told her ‘good girl’ once, and now he was at peace with the mangled remains of his body resting at the church in San Antonio. The same place Charmane spent three months recovering and healing and contemplating her next move. There was still a stiffness in her side where she had broken all her ribs, and beneath the white linen, the pink scars that marred her flesh like melted candle wax drew taunt, aching still as the muscles tried to remember what it felt like to move freely. This wasn’t the first hunt she’s been on since recovering, even if the nuns and Holy’s had begged her to remain, but for the first time, Kross was beginning to feel old.<br><br>Tired.<br><br>She returned the hammer back from its cocked position, lowering the weapon before he moved on to reason number two. One thing that this man didn’t seem to realize was the fact that Charmane Cross had immunity. She could slaughter everyone in the town and say they were all infected with vampirism, and no one would bat an eye-lash. So it was a pretty damn good thing that Charmane Kross wasn’t a murdering lunatic looking to test her boundaries before another hunter was sent after her.<br><br>She had tuned him out by reason number three, and as the man smiled that broad, earnest smile of his, she was padding silently across the hall, back inside with his dear cousin Emma. The whore was smiling, bemused, but there was a certain tension around her eyes that said that Taylor’s first reason had been right. She almost sighed in relief when she realized that she wouldn’t have to witness her foolish cousin’s death. Estranged as their relationship was, or not.<br><br>Charmane returned to the bed, and holstered her weapon, but didn’t drop her gun-belt. One of the first rules she learned was never leave her weapons out of reach; what good would they do you then? Kross carried them with her to the tub, before seating herself on a small stool and picked up one of many wet rags, idly wiping the dust from her skin so as not to immediately pollute her steaming bath. The dust from the road and four days riding came off, revealing the amber tones of warm honey beneath. She certainly wasn’t the fair-skinned noble, or even a modestly tanned whore; Charmane was weathered, sun-kissed and unlike most an woman that lived in this shit-hole of a town.<br><br>“Sheriff or not, I advice you learn some manners that include knocking, less you learn the hard way.” The first rag was dropped in a basin, having cleansed one arm. A second was adopted by the opposite hand, before getting to work once again. “And if you be wantin’ my help at all, I suggest you let your fair folk here understand that as well. I’ve no use for those who act like spooked cattle.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>11-05-2011, 01:32:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Taylor lowered his hands and averted his eyes when Kross went into the next room and sat on the stool near the tub. Tense as the situation might have been, he’d have had to have been a fool not to realize that a woman clad only in a shirt have very…interesting…things happen near her upper thighs when she sat down. He found himself face to face with cousin Emma, and he cleared his throat, looking meaningfully at the door.<br><br>Emma crossed her arms over her chest, hitching one eyebrow and standing up straight. She had a good half a foot over her cousin, and like any good cousin, never let him forget it. “Oh no, John Taylor,” she said. “Strangers is scarce enough that I am not about to let you chase me out on a paying customer just because you show up and start flashing that fancy piece of tin of yours. Now either you say your piece to the lady and let me get about my business, or you can come back in half an hour and say your piece then. Either way, I mean to be paid tonight.”<br><br>“Christ,” John swore. “Emme, this is town business I’m about to talk over with Miss…” he trailed off, turning his head a fraction of a degree towards the bathroom.<br><br>“Kross,” Charmane said.<br><br>“With Miss Kross,” John said.<br><br>“Town business or no, I aim to get paid. Business has been dry as a madame’s cunt…”<br><br>“Emma!”<br><br>“…oh fuck your delicate sensibilities, John. This is my livelihood.”<br><br>Taylor held up his hands in surrender. “I’m the one who barged in. I have less say than anyone else in the room. I’ll leave this in the hands of your…ahhh…client.” He raised his voice, addressing Charmane. Emma scowled at him, at his blatant attempt to go over her head. Her occupation had been a source of tension between the two of them for years, and this was hardly the first time he’d come between her and an honest night’s work.<br><br>“Now, Miss Kross,” John began, but trailed off. He’d had all of the pieces of his realization in his head before that moment. Charmane and Emma were both women. Emma was a whore. Charmane was her customer. But until then, they hadn’t fit together, and when they had you could almost see him wonder out loud.<br><br><em>But…she’s a woman. So’s she. “What…what would two women <strong>do</strong> together anyway?</em> He flushed, looking ten years younger, and he stammered over whatever he had been about to say.<br><br>Emma laughed. It was not cruel, though it was plainly at his expense, and took her cousin by the arm, walking with him towards the door. “Come back in half an hour, John. We’ll be done by then and I’ll get out of your hair and you can jaw with Miss Kross all night long about the damned vampires, if you’ve a mind to.”<br>She half escorted, half shoved him back into the hallway. “Go downstairs. Have a drink. Buy a woman for yourself, for Christ’s sake…”<br><br>“Emma!”<br><br>“…but don’t come back for half an hour!”<br><br>And with that, she closed the door on his face, sliding the latch shut.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>11-05-2011, 10:33:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kross hadn’t bothered to look up a single moment as the two exchanged words; the woman found herself content with watching the dirt leave her skin and instead cake the rags, promising her a cleaner soak once she was able to settle her tired bones inside the basin. In fact, she hadn’t even glanced up as the door slammed closed and successfully locked the two women inside the room. Nor did she look up when Emma walked around the tub to stand behind her, reaching around to her front in order to work open the buttons of her shirt, from top, slowly to the bottom.<br><br>“Don’t let my cousin be a bother; he can be a pain but he means well. Though sometimes I wonder how a man like him can be so damn… <em>oblivious</em>, and still be alive.” The buttons were freed, and cool fingers slid in through the shirt to press against the firm tummy of Charmane. They worked their way up, gathering the cotton as she led it to her shoulders. Charmane let the dirty rag drop back into the basin with the others while allowing the shirt to be peeled off of her shoulders.<br><br>“I hope you realize that I don’t make a habit of interruptions…” The fingers slid from her shoulders, down Charmane’s back, and stopped once it reached the clasp of her delicates, patiently working free the multiple eye-hooks. “I meant what I said, after all, this bein’ my business…” The black material dropped to the ground, but only momentarily, before relocating with the rest of her dirty clothes. Two hands replaced the cloth, supporting full breasts with a gentle squeeze that rewarded Emma with a soft sigh from the hunter. Charmane closed her eyes, allowing the woman to direct her into the warm tub so that the water lapped at her skin and fingers pinched at her nipples.<br><br>“You said you needed a good rub down?”<br><br>“Head to toe. Don’t be none gentle, neither. You’ll not break me.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>15-05-2011, 03:34:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Emma led Charmane into the warm tub and lifted back the hunter’s hair so that it fell back over the edge of the tub when she submerged herself fully. Bathing a customer – woman or man – was not something that she’d been called on to do often. Most people around Riverton being interested only in the primary service a woman like Emma provided, she tended to the task in the way of frontier folk since time immemorial; unafraid of hard work and with as little pomp as she could manage.<br><br>A wooden ladle near the tub served to scoop up water to pour over Charmane’s head, wetting her hair in preparation for the comb. The teeth brushed against her scalp like tiny fingernails, and Emma teased out the snarls and furls until her hair hung in a straight, damp fall. Partially due to gratitude for Charmane not having killed her idiot cousin, and partly because there were few things more intimate, in Emma’s mind, than combing a lover’s hair, she began to relax after the tension of the past minutes. She slid along her stool until Charmane could feel her bosom brush against her head and cheek as she moved around her.<br><br>Emma’s arms slid around Charmane’s shoulders from behind, and she felt a brief kiss on the back of her head. Her hands were strong but smooth, and they fell onto her shoulders as she commenced the rubdown. She took Kross at her word, and the massage did not begin gently. Her fingers pressed into the tense knot of muscles on the shoulder blades and soothed it away with slow, firm squeezes. When Charmane’s tightness did not immediately loosen, Emma redoubled her efforts to a level of massage that most men would have found uncomfortable, her painted lips turning upwards in a smile when she heard the other woman sigh and hiss beneath the insistence of her hands.<br><br>“Sweet mercy, woman. You been sleeping on a bed of gravel?” Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward again, her teeth nibbling with exaggerated delicacy on Charmane’s earlobe. Her breath was hot, her voice a whisper in her ear. “I’ll be moving around to the front presently. You sure you don’t want me to be gentle?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>15-05-2011, 14:51:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				To this, Charmane could only sigh. She was far from a soft woman and the road weary traveler seldom indulged in such delicacies as Emma. Such things were often frowned upon, and supported by the Catholic church… well Charmane did occasionally hold up to the image that such Godly men preferred. Few questioned too loudly in a back-road town like this one, eager to earn extra coin, and while Kross would never push… she certainly would encourage and reward further action that allowed the scarred woman the chance to feel momentarily content.<br><br>“I’ve not slept in a bed for a week,” she admitted, mumbling with her chin a near inch above the water line. The thick, dark lace of her eye-lashes fluttered and tickled the tops of her cheeks, before creating dark crescents where they folded.<br><br>Should the whore wish to pursue such deviant tasks, she might find the parting of Charmane’s thighs increase, almost eager for a touch more friendly than the scars on her arms suggested that she received. “Woman, here I am at your mercy, and I don’t be sayin’ that regularly. If you grace me this moment to indulge, I’ll reward you plenty and will you to continue as you see fit.” Those nibbles made her shiver, despite the heat of the water; teasing, another indulgence that Charmane savored. The moment the bath water drew cold, she'd have to conduct business. Here, while the time was allowed, she wished only to let things happen and not have to power through and be held responsible.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>17-05-2011, 00:19:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“All right then. You just lay back and I’ll have you singing ‘Halleluiah’ inside half a minute.” Her words were jaunty, but her voice was gentle, even loving. Women like Emma made as much of their living by their ability to read their customers as they did by laying down for them. And everything about Charmane was telling Emma how tired and lonesome she was. A light touch was called for, as these things went. <br><br>Her hands disappeared for half a moment as she dragged the stool around the tub a quarter circle, putting her on Kross’ right. Her lips came down, feather light, kissing her eyes closed, tracing the lines of her cheekbones, outlining her mouth in a half-dozen steps of light pressure and warm breath. But this was just the sauce, just the sweet bit on top; it was Emma’s hand that was on the business end of things. Her low-cut bodice left her arm bare to the shoulders, so it was nothing at all for her hand to slip beneath the surface of the water, for her fingers to touch first her inner thigh, and creep towards the V of her legs.<br><br>Emma pulled her head back a fraction, her eyelids heavy and half-closed, so that she could meet Charmane’s eyes when her questing fingertips brushed against Charmane’s pussy. Her hand struck some sort of happy medium between gentle and firm as they teased her clit between thumb and forefinger, teasing out the precise level of pressure it would take to make her hiss in pleasure.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>17-05-2011, 21:23:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was less of a hiss, and more like a sharp inhale. Charmane held that breath for several seconds, until releasing it with a soft sound as she slowly tilted her head back until it rest on the metal lip of the tub. This woman had a gift, that couldn’t be denied, talented fingers and a keen eye were an excellent combination for a whore, and this one seemed to be more capable of reading Charmane’s needs than she was of herself.<br><br>That wasn’t a complaint.<br><br>Charmane kept her eyes closed and bit her lower lip, moaning as the sensations began to settle into her bones and encourage her hips to undulate. It took a great amount of self control in order to keep them still, and more to simply grip the lip of the tub and not reach out to curl her fingers softly in that silken hair that Emma dressed in a pretty bun. Some women didn’t like to be touched; others didn’t care so long as they got paid, Kross kept herself neutral. Sure, she was something of a trouble maker, but Priest taught her respect and despite occupation, that’s what she’d give. Most of the time. And especially in this case.<br><br>“Woman, you have a gift,” Charmane purred, a low, throaty sound that didn’t extend far past the tub. Her hips jerked, as if to nod in agreement, even as the hunter’s breathing began to deepen, and more trickling sighs escaped her throat. It felt wonderful; which was why she was savoring the struggle this Emma forced on her as she tried to keep the pleasure at bay and fight it off until she was ready.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>19-05-2011, 20:50:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Sure do,” Emma agreed. It was another trait that was adaptable according to the whims of her customers. Some would find the entire experience ruined if she said one word from start to finish. Others wanted a conversation before, during, or after. Most were somewhere in between on the “dissertation vs. stone silence” spectrum, but it was always in her best interest to feel that out. Kross revealed that she was not in the latter camp.<br><br>“But I seem to have undermined my own efforts,” she said with a grin that promised more temptation than the forbidden fruit. “I mean, I spent all that time trying to get you to relax, and look at you. You’re just as taut as a bowstring.” She gave a silky little laugh, and leaned in close. The smell of her filled Charmane’s nostrils; the cheap, heavy perfume. The clean, powder smooth skin with its own natural scent notes. Half a dozen other things that Kross could detect because every facet of her awareness sharpened on the experience of her senses as Emma’s skilled hand continued its work. <br><br>A curving finger pressed upward, into her, worked in and out by tiny degrees, deeper. The curve intensified, the finger pressed more firmly against her vaginal wall. “Tight enough to snap,” Emma purred, lips and teeth at work in sweet little lovebites against Charmane’s chin and cheek. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>24-05-2011, 20:07:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Somehow explaining that this was, indeed, a very good tension seemed counterproductive. Kross loved the tease, she savored allowing another to have control but desired to find that fine edge and ride it as long as she may. Like a true masochist, the hunter enjoyed pleasure but only when there was the struggle and fight through the pain. In this, it was being unable to move her hands, to direct Emma where to tease, what to touch and when the fingers need to be thrust in deep. In a way, she was the whore’s play thing, there to tease and wind until the end of her half hour.<br><br>Charmane was audibly panting now, pleasure clear on her face as Emma’s fingers curled and teeth teased her flesh. She bit her lower lip and tilt her head back, slowly rocking her hips in time with Emma’s hand simply because she couldn’t contain herself. Part of her was tempted to grab her wrist to direct, but in the end she only tightened her hold on her lip of the tub, as if surrendering to Emma’s will.<br><br>“I don’t break, ma’am,” It was meant to be said strongly, not that whispered purr that her words came out in. Confident. Sure. Not sultry and low. Her hips jerked, and Charmane couldn’t help but moan out loud with a soft little gasp, every closer now. She bit her lip again, clenched her fingers tight around the lip of the tub and refused push herself closer to those talented fingers. Or pull away in order to win a little longer.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pointless Digression</strong> on <strong>26-05-2011, 18:09:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Mmm. ‘course not.” Emma understood the unspoken rules of the game the hunter played. It was her job to give her what she wanted, that was her role, but the enthusiasm she brought to it was all her own. By subtle, slow degrees, the touches on Charmane’s pussy, the bites and kisses on her neck and cheek and the corners of her mouth turned possessive, masterly. There was a look on her face, a sardonic tilt to her smile that said, <em>You’re mine. I will wring this out of you because you cannot stop me from doing so, and that pleases me.</em><br><br>She had been using her second hand to help her balance, but a little shuffle forwards on her stool let her lean against the edge of the tub, bring that hand up to lay across Charmane’s breasts. Her fingertips began pinching and pulling her nipples, deliciously sharp and painful. Again, she calibrated for Charmane’s resilience, and found the delicate balance between agony and delight. A second finger slid inside her, and they both pressed forward as they slid deeper, searching out that secret spot.<br><br>The whore gave a gentle laugh at Charmane’s tenseness, her lip-biting struggles. “Big, strong woman like you. Who’d have thought you’d whimper so?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Snake Bites (Yggdrasil and Pointless Digression)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Malrunar</strong> on <strong>18-06-2011, 21:37:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She didn’t entirely mind. This sort of surrender was different; it wasn’t real. Or at least, it wasn’t the reality that the woman had to fight and bleed in. Here, in Emma’s power, Charmane didn’t have to be the tough front everyone expected. Here, with pleasure, she was able to bask and moan and ride the waves like a whore of her own. And damn did that crafty hand know just where to tease, doing a fine job that proceeded any partner she had in the past; honest truth. Some people really knew how to do their jobs.<br><br>“Uhn!” Charmane buckled, her face twisted into a beautiful display of lust that was ready to overwhelm at any moment. She gripped the tub as if her life depended on it, yet felt her eyes opening to watch the distorted image of Emma’s hands under the water. She had found her g-spot, those clever fingers isolated that mark and relentlessly manipulated it, until Charmane began to writhe and pant, the whore’s puppet until she was allowed to cum.<br><br>And that was part of the game too. The pleasure was here, but all that Kross needed was that throaty hiss in her ear that allowed her to fall, that gave her an excuse to become a glutton for the pleasure she had been without for so long. Air hissed through her clenched teeth, muscles deep inside began to spasm and tighten, and that low, husky purr rolled through her throat, begging for an order or word of direction that would let her go.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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