Wild Wastes [Barding & Sable]
<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: Barding on 26-02-2013, 11:25:31</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>26-02-2013, 11:25:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm229/Tristinbrushes/tumblr_mbkhtf2kKo1qzz73mo1_500small.jpg)</div><br><div style="text-align: justify;">He had travelled the wastes for near enough a week now. And done the same for years before that, always alone. And before that, he'd travelled them since he could walk or ride. <em>All part of the job,</em> or so he told himself. <em>Whatever the hell kinda job that might be.</em> But it had always been part of who he was, whether growing up amongst nomads, of whose blood he had a half-share, or leaving them to roam the blasted world, and see and learn enough to know whether or not he wished to return. Those were simpler times, sure, but there was no amount of simplicity that could replace the kick of a longrifle or the burn of homestilled whiskey in his throat, or the taste of cigarettes. Those were things that life among the Frith could never give him. Which is why he couldn't return now. He would not be accepted back.<br><br>In any case, a life of walking gave him time to reflect. For all the trudging hours, while the sun sailed over the cracked desert and glassy spurs of strange smooth rock, frequent round these parts, he would think. And then sit himself down, treat himself to rolling and taking a smoke, and be done with the long long day. Too exhausted to do much but sleep.<br><br>Only now his canteen was running on empty. He'd swallowed its last drops, and this was a dry cruel land, whose face would brook no surface water. There was water underground they said, but damned if he'd find it. He left Nilsprings six days ago. He counted on his fingers. There they'd had their own water, their own muddy well, and all the grit-tasting pochentong you could drink. Women to watch, if not to warm your bed: settler girls who'd never seen the wastes, except as a distant light at the mouth of that cave of tunnels they called a town. Settler girls from Nilsprings with their milky pale sunstarved skin, their soft breasts, wide hips, strong shoulders and poor heads for business.<br><br><em>Makes a man wonder why he'd leave...</em> But he knew. And it all came back to what he kept telling himself: <em>All part of the job.</em> Out in the Glassflats, out here in this grim uninhabitable land, strange lights came at sunset and sunrise, glistening and dancing off the slicks of solid glass and stone that gave the place its name. But stranger things had been seen of recent, if only in passing or from afar. Humanish shapes and oil-burning lanterns and rubber tyre fires in the night. And flashes of burning light. It was Reavers, or so he'd decided. Reavers sitting on a pile of shiny old tech. Only, it seemed a stupid and faraway concept about now, when water was running low and walking was becoming hopeless.<br><br>"Weaver," he said to himself, on that sixth day. A tall hard-faced gaunt featured man with long bandy legs and a battered leather jacket. "Looks like you're fixin' to die..."<br><br>That's when he saw it. The pod. Smooth and seal-grey, half-buried in the hard ground, and with a strange curl of tail raising off it, like a scorpion's stinger, or a germinating seed's growing stem.</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>28-02-2013, 02:02:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://i56.photobucket.com/albums/g194/daxionsfire/RP%20Girls/MacyE_zpsc9e50fe3.jpg)</div><br>As the sun set on the shimmering horizon of the Glasslands, Macy settled down for another cold night in her new home. For that's exactly what the sphere had become. She didn't know what else to call it. It was in the shape of a sphere, so she called it "The Sphere." Whatever it was, it was old, from the World Before. A world that had died long before she was born. It was made of some strange metal, mostly gray, with strange markings and lights on the outside. It also had a small round window, but it was on the side that was buried in the ground. Inside was a bench of some sort, with cushions and some sort of belts that had served as restraining devices. The rest of the inside of the sphere was taken up with screens and buttons and lights. It was cramped, but she'd managed to get some of its devices working, so that at night, she was slightly warmer than the Glasslands became, and during the day, she was slightly cooler.<br><br>Macy was a "tekki," or at least, that's what her former owners had told her. One of the very few people alive nowadays who had a natural, inherent talent with the technology of the World Before. The all female mercenary band had prized her for her skills. They'd also prized her for her body. Not only was Macy a tekki, she'd also been born with a mutated body, a body that was mostly female...except for an unusually large cock. Macy had been captured by the mercenary band when she was just a little girl, abandoned by scientists who had called themselves her parents but who bore no resemblance to her. The women of the mercenary band had been delighted upon finding Macy endowed with a cock, something they had gone a long time without. They'd wasted no time in forcing the girl to take drugs which kept her in a perpetual state of arousal, and then they raped her. Several times a day. Every day. For years.<br><br>But Macy had not wasted the time. She learned everything she could about old technology whenever they came across a piece of it. She also learned how to use a knife to defend herself. The mercenary band prized her as a sex toy, but they didn't value her enough to protect her when it came down to fights for survival, so Macy had learned to protect herself. And she'd also learned how to escape. When she was 16--a year ago now--she'd vanished into the Glasslands, hopefully never to see the women of the merc band ever again.<br><br>After wandering for months, nearly dying several times, Macy found this pod. After a few days of tinkering with it, she got some of its lights to start flashing. A few more days, and she figured out how to have it draw moisture from the surrounding air and collect it in small containers of drinkable water...not much, but enough to survive on. In its sheltering embrace, she slept peacefully for the first time in her life. And so it was that as a man wandered near outside, Macy was inside the sphere, preparing to bed down for the night. She looked up in curiosity as a red light started flashing over one of the screens. She'd never seen that light come on before. She lay on the cushioned bench, watching it flash rhythmically, and her eyelids began to droop as sleep started to come...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>28-02-2013, 02:58:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">Night drew in. The growing shadows, growing thirst, the setting sun all had a way of making things seem other than they were. Distances seemed to distort before Weaver as he trudged across the Glassflats towards the pod: that strange spherical object, standing up from the horizon. He moved carefully across a slick of long-hardened melted glass, black in colour from burning up. The setting sun danced across it like fire for a time. Then sun and fire disappeared. Night had come.<br><br>Weaver reached the slick's edge and trod onto the more ordinary ground with confidence, while the smear of glass on the landscape lay behind him like a frozen lake. Others stained this place though, in strains, splashes, solid pools and strange jutting formations. And that's just what Weaver her feared the sphere might be, seen from afar through eyes that dared to hope too much. Closer now, it was something stranger still, made of metal, smooth in places but articulated in others. He struck on into the dark, reaching up to the single shoulder plate of armour on his right side. He flicked a blunt switch, and a round miner's light glared from its position there, out into the deepening night.<br><br>He reached the pod. The thing. <em>Whatever it is</em>. And he reached into his long coat, of wool and leather patches, for the holster at his right hip. His hand came up holding a heavy thick-muzzled revolver (http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs29/f/2008/096/8/e/Geind_EL_451_Shettier_by_VulnePro.jpg): his most recent acquisition, and a good on it seemed. Sand, wind, and overshooting hadn't got it yet, and only the but had needed bandaging. Weaver's large watchful birdish eyes skittered darkly over the sphere's shape. The pistol hung lazy at his side.<br><br>Even with the pod's articulations, seams, lines and indents, there was no obvious way in. <em>But sure as hell it's got an inside</em>. It wasn't natural, not part of the land. A red light flickered on its flank. He'd seen tech-savvy folk, from warlocks to priests, to scientists to mechanics, all work their own ways of getting tech to behave. Weaver remembered this, and he decided to take a chance. <em>Just ask nicely,</em> he thought.<br><br>"Open up," he said, and knocked on the sphere's side, tentatively, with the muzzle of his gun.</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>01-03-2013, 20:06:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy was nearly asleep when the sharp rapping echoed through the sphere, even louder on the inside than it was on the outside. She sat up sharply, banging the top of her head on the shelf she'd built above the bench. She hissed in pain, but it was soon forgotten as she looked around in panic. That was not a natural sound. The sphere had never made that sound before. Her eyes fell on the red light flashing above one of the screens. Perhaps the noise had something to do with the light. She'd never seen the light before, or heard the sound.<br><br>She slipped off the bench, naked save for the thin blanket she held around her body. She stared at the light for a moment, biting her lower lip in hesitation. Then something whispered in the back of her mind. Just a feeling really, but she got the urge to press the glowing red button. She pushed it gently, and an image flared to life on the screen. She gasped as she realized what she was seeing.<br><br>It was a picture of the environment just outside the door of the Sphere. And standing right in the middle of the image was a man with a gun. She whimpered in near panic.<br><br>Men with guns were nothing new to her, of course. Everyone was armed these days. Men like the one outside roamed the wastes far and wide, often looking for trouble. But Macy had never been cornered by one before. But here she was, trapped in her own home. And she didn't have a gun to defend herself with. She grabbed her long knife and curled up on the far side of the Sphere from the door, hoping the man didn't figure out what the correct words were to get the door to open. That was one thing she hadn't figured out yet...how to lock the damn thing.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>02-03-2013, 13:16:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;"><em>Empty it may well be,</em> thought Weaver, <em>But then again, why is it winking at you? Like it's just asking to be split wide open.</em><br><br>For a moment, he pondered shooting at the pod. Showing it what's what, who's boss. But he realised he didn't know where its door might sit on its strange, plated body. This quandry wouldn't be solved by anything so simple as blowing off a padlock.<br><br>Weaver paced about the sphere. It wasn't of a metal he'd seen before, and didn't seem wrought or forged so much as grown, with its odd organic stem, straining up skywards. A light blinked there too. Looking up at it, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was looking back. That he was being watched. His grip grew tighter on the butt of his gun. With his other hand, he flicked off its safety.<br><br>He was a tall man, with most of his height coming from long bandy legs. His hair was long and tousled about his head, flickering about his narrow face and large dark eyes, played by the wind. His patchwork coat was almost full length, and smattered with pockets and flecked with dust. There was strapping across his torso, and a plate of leather and metal on his right shoulder. Beneath his coat there seemed only to be shadow, and on his back hung a long rifle, almost as tall as him: bolt action, with a turning revolver chamber, and a carved stock that looked more like bone than wood.<br><br>"Open," Weaver said again, tapping the sphere, this time with the toe of a boot. "Opens says me?" He began to run his fingers along its surface, trusting his instincts, feeling its seams and articulations. Perhaps it wasn't a word that he needed. Just the right point of leverage.<br><br>One seam seemed deeper than the rest. He pulled with his long strong fingers. The panel lifted open, with a sound like an exhalation, and Weaver gazed with keen dark eyes inside.</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>06-03-2013, 19:59:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Minutes passed, and the stranger outside showed no signs of knowing how to get into the pod. Macy began to feel a bit of hope; perhaps the man would get bored or frustrated, and stop trying to get in. Then all she had to do was wait for him to leave, and she would be safe yet again. But then, without warning, the door hissed open, leaving her fully visible the the man outside.<br><br>Macy shrank back against the far wall of the pod, with nothing but her blanket to shelter her naked body from harm, and nothing but her knife to defend herself with. She looked side to side quickly, but there was nothing else in the pod she could use to help herself. Try as she might, despite all the scavenging she had done, she had yet to find a working gun. If she'd had one, she would've shot the stranger immediately. But as it was, all she could do was look at him in horror.<br><br>"Stay away!" she warned. She brandished her knife, but she held it in close to her body, so she couldn't be easily disarmed. The dim interior lights of the pod made the blade glimmer with a dark reddish light. "This place is mine! Go away!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>07-03-2013, 16:32:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">Weaver half hid himself on the other side of the entrance. A voice in the wastes meant trouble, or at least preparing for it. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't a girl, wasn't a voice like hers, raised in uncertain shock, or shrill warning. <em>Be logical,</em> he thought. There was something in her voice lacked solidity. None of the confidence there that would come with a loaded gun, let alone knowing how to use one.<br><br>"You don't got a piece, do you?" he stated, rather than asked. His voice was a smooth burry growl. "Way I see it, I could shoot you dead with this piece here 'fore you could so much as beg me not to. Now how's that for makin' you rethink your manners, girl?"</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>11-03-2013, 19:53:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy was so scared, she could barely see straight. On top of that, the twilight made vision uncertain anyway, casting shadows in every direction. Her heart pounded within her chest, and adrenaline pumped through her veins, readying her for what would probably be a fight to the death. A small-framed girl with a knife, against a man with a gun. Those weren't good odds. Of course, the gun might not be loaded. She'd seen lots of guns that didn't have any ammo. But still, the odds were definitely not in her favor.<br><br>She briefly closed her eyes and bit her lip in dismay as the man correctly guessed she wasn't armed with a gun. The real skittish types, they could often be scared away just by sounding like you meant business. But this man had caught her completely by surprise, and he definitely wasn't skittish. "I...I don't want any trouble!" she said, instead of confirming his guess. "Please just...just go away. I'm armed!" Not that she thought that would actually make him go away. But she couldn't think of anything else to say.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>13-03-2013, 12:55:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">Weaver let out a short huff, cut off just before it could become a sigh. <em>Let her calm down,</em> he thought. <em>Come around.</em> She didn't have a gun, that much was for sure now, or else fear would've made her brave and brusk, rather than skittish. Still, she was armed, or so she said, and he'd seen a frightend woman with a knife do worse to a man than he'd care to think about. Even teeth and nails could be a problem in such close quarters, trumping a gun, even. A gun that had how many rounds left? Five perhaps.<br><br>"Girl," he said. "I'm not after any trouble either. Just some hospitality...I won't do nothin' to you less you give me cause, an' that's a promise. I just wanna rest my bones till morning."</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>16-03-2013, 20:35:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy didn't believe the man's promise for a moment. Anyone who trusted another person to keep their word was a dead person walking...they just didn't realize it yet. She didn't think for one moment that the strange man outside the pod had pure motives. But what choice did she really have? She could continue to refuse him entry, and precipitate a fight. In which case, she'd probably get shot and killed. If she let him in...he might rape her...but he might also let her live, too. It was nothing she hadn't gone through before.<br><br>"F-fine, come in," she said. The fire had drained from her voice. With her heart pounding in her chest, she withdrew to the farthest corner of the pod, still clutching her knife, with only her thin, ragged blanket to hide her naked young body from his view. When he entered, she would regard him warily, her wide eyes watching his every move. She didn't threaten him with the knife, but she held it ready, just in case. "You just...stay over there...on your side," she told him. "And...mind your own business. And when the sun comes up, you leave."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>18-03-2013, 12:17:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">The flare had gone from her. And so easily, almost as if she'd been broken before, taught not to fight back. Weaver thought little of it, only stepping back, gun trained, to look into the dark inside the pod again. A red light winked. He saw inside a shape, huddled and hunched into itself: his hostess. He raised a booted foot, careful not to make any sudden moves. The next followed, and he ducked into the pod, his dim miner's light glowering inquisitively into its depths. It was, he decided, roomier than it should've been. Than it looked on the outside.<br><br>"Much obliged," he grinned dryly, and turned to face the girl. His light fell upon her and across her: the peaks and valleys of her blanket, and the way its drapery clung to her form. Weaver quickly glanced to the side, before she noticed his hungry eyes. He was hard and knife-featured, harsh jaw covered in days of stubble. And there was a power to his limbs not from physical strength, not from musculature, but from a feeling: you could never quite be sure what his hands were capable of. "So long as you stick with your side too...How'd you find your way in here anyway? Little thing like you."</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>21-03-2013, 20:07:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy watched the man with the wary eyes of an animal that was worried it might become prey, but she didn't panic. She pressed back against the far side of the pod from him, gripping her knife's hilt so tightly, her fingers hurt. But the man moved slowly, and he did not attack her once he was inside. That gave her hope that maybe he truly didn't want any trouble. She watched him as he looked around the interior of the pod, and she could tell that he didn't really know what he was looking at. She squinted her eyes as his light fell over her, and she looked away, used to the darkness of the inside of the pod. Her blanket slipped down just a bit, briefly revealing the pert nipple of her firm, shapely left breast.<br><br>"I...I'm a tekki," she told him softly. "I can work stuff like this, the old tech. I don't know how I do it...I just do. I have a gift for it. I can look at equipment and figure out how it's supposed to work, and if it doesn't work, I can usually figure out what's wrong with it." She felt a bit of pride run through her at the admission. Tekkies were rare these days. There were some people who had fiddled enough with the old tech that they had learned something about it. But a true tekki didn't "learn." They just "knew." Macy had known how to operate the first piece of old tech she'd ever laid eyes on, just as soon as she'd seen it. Just like she'd known how to work at least some of the things in this pod.<br><br>"My name's Macy," she said finally.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>24-03-2013, 15:28:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">Something clenched inside Weaver, drawing tight like a wire. His jaw set and the tendons of his throat stood out sharp and straight. In the red light his skin lacked colour. Instead it became a shifting map of contours and dark valleys. <em>A tekki she says...</em> That word had birthed myths across this land, since ever before it was uttered. And they were stories of witches, born not from a womb but these wastes themselves, or else from metal and chemical wombs, lost and strange in the world's dark places. The clenching Weaver felt, then, was from wonder, curiosity, fear, all part and sown in amongst each other, indistinct and tangled as weeds.<br><br>"Weaver," he replied slowly. In the dark he couldn't help but notice her too: the lines and shadows that made her up, as a shape, as a person, a girl and a tekki. "I'm a wanderer's all. Nothin' so high an' mighty as you with your witchin'-knowin' an' your old tech ken. But if it's those things got us a place to sleep for the night, I don't see no reason to grudge at you for it."<br><br>He paused. His eyes flickered across her, catching a glimpse of her breast before it slipped out of sight once more. His eyes took on a hungry cast, but his voice betrayed none of it.<br><br>"Pretty name," he said after a time, huskier than before.</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>28-03-2013, 19:14:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy felt trapped against the back of the pod as the man who called himself Weaver stood inside it and stared at her. She was keenly aware that the blanket was her only protection, the only barrier hiding her naked body from his view. To make matters worse, the door slid closed behind him once he was inside, making sure they were truly alone in the pod, and she had nowhere to go. She could see the look in his eyes, and she wasn't sure she liked it. But his compliment of her name stirred something within her. She'd spent all her life being used: for her tech skills as a tool, and sexually as a boy. She'd never really been treated like a woman before, which was something she wanted very badly. A man to treat her as a woman. She knew that was impossible, considering her...uniqueness...but that didn't stop her from wanting it.<br><br>Macy was a female name, and Weaver thought she was just an ordinary girl. And he liked her name. She relished the feeling, even if it was only an illusion.<br><br>"Th-thank you," she stammered, blushing brightly as she looked down. "Um, I don't know how I got my skills to work this tech, but pretty much anything like it, I can figure out. There's not much of it left, but when I found this pod, I knew it was perfect for me." She pointed at a bench across from hers, cushioned. "You can sleep there, if you want." She stretched out a bit on her bench. As she shifted, her large cock moved, its head briefly dragging against the blanket, and then thumping softly against her inner thigh. She looked up quickly to see if Weaver had noticed it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>30-03-2013, 14:11:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">Weaver glanced away from his strange hostess for a moment. He stood up straight as he could in the low-ceilinged pod and turned towards the bench she'd pointed out, in the shadows across the chamber. Shucking off his heavy wool and leather patchwork coat, he laid it out like bedcovers on the bench and sat. Despite himself, he found himself looking at her once more. There was something almost discomforting about her. Something he couldn't quite place, though he put it down to her witching.<br><br><em>Even in these shadows she's pretty enough. Even grimed and smirched with mud an' dust.</em><br><br>He took in her hair. It was a rare enough colour these days. And even her body, beneath the rough blanket and gloved in shadow, seemed better, fuller than the malnourished half-starved whores he'd become used to. Weaver decided to stop himself though, before his own thoughts became full-bodied too, and that old heady tide grew in him. <em>Best not to scare the poor thing...</em><br><br>"Now pretty Macy," he began, slow and treading careful. "You'll excuse me for gettin' down to brass tacks a moment, but how's I know you aren't the kinda girl to shiv me in my sleep and use my bones for soup? I won't hurt ya, you've got my word on that, but I don't know the same thing 'bout you."</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>03-04-2013, 20:10:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy watched warily as Weaver began to settle in, and apparently relaxed around her some. She relaxed as well as she studied him. Surely if he had meant her harm, he would've done something by now. Knife or no knife, it was unlikely she could've done anything to stop him from getting what he wanted. But no, he didn't seem like that sort of person. In fact, she thought he was kind of handsome in a rugged, disheveled sort of way. There were few men she could say that about. Of course, for most of her early life, she'd been held by the all-female merc tribe, and they didn't tolerate men amongst them. Since she'd escaped, she'd seen plenty of men, but most of them were more beast than human, it seemed.<br><br>She made a face at his comment. "Ew, why would I use you for soup, that's gross," she said. She wasn't sure if he was serious or not--some people HAD turned to cannibalism in this desperate environment--but Macy had never even contemplated that before. "I won't stab you unless you try anything," she assured him. "But if you do...I've had to use this knife to defend myself before, so don't think I'm totally helpless. You just go to sleep, and tomorrow be on your way."<br><br>Macy laid down and stretched out on her side of the pod, her ample young breasts pressing clearly against her thin blanket. It clung to her form close enough even to reveal the shapes of her pert nipples.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>04-04-2013, 13:48:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">"There's worse things people've done," Weaver answered, shrugging. "Specially when they're hungry. Lucky for you, I ain't." That was a lie. His stomach almost growled then and there, to prove it, punctuating his untruth. For beneath his coat he was thin and hungry, drawn and tired and thirsty from travel, but he didn't want to scare the girl. Not when he was so close to a place to sleep for the night, and a body to wake to come morning. Even if he didn't touch, just being in her presence was soothing: a taster. A lick to lap at.<br><br>Bringing out a metal canteen, Weaver sloshed the contents, sounding half-empty in his hand. He drank a long draw, wetting his dry mouth and licking his thin lips. All the while, he looked sidelong at her as she settled in and settled down. His gaze scraped across her body before he could stop himself. The old familiar stirrings began, swelling in his belly and filling his loins with warmth and a soft-hard feeling.<br><br>He gathered his coat around him and settled down onto his side. But he didn't close his eyes. He couldn't sleep for now, he decided. <em>Worst thing you can do in the wastes,</em> he'd learnt, <em>is take chances.</em> And so he waited on her breathing, wondering when it would grow heavy and regular. And he felt the cuffs in his coat pocket. <em>Just a precaution. For a cautious man's a clever one.</em></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SablePaladin</strong> on <strong>14-04-2013, 23:26:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Macy didn't go to sleep right away, either. She lay beneath her blanket, her breasts rising and falling gently as she breathed. She knew that if Weaver was going to try anything, he'd probably wait until she was asleep. A grown man could overpower a young girl her size pretty easily. But even a very strong man could die from a knife slipped between his ribs if he wasn't careful. No, if Weaver was going to try something, he'd wait until she was out cold. She knew he was smart like that, she could sense it. And so she laid there, waiting and watching, hoping she'd soon hear him breathing deeply in sleep.<br><br>But despite her best intentions, before long, her own eyelids began to feel so heavy. She hadn't slept well the night before. The little voice in the back of her head had continually been urging her to explore more of the pod's functions. She had learned so much, but it had cost her several hours of sleep, and she was feeling it now. Before long, her eyes closed, and she drifted off into a light slumber. Her breasts rose and fell in even rhythm, and the soft whisper of her breath echoed in the pod. Her fingers relaxed, allowing her knife to slip free and slide into the folds of the blanket around her hips.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Wild Wastes [Barding &amp; Sable]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Barding</strong> on <strong>16-04-2013, 16:22:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;">As soon as Macy’s breathing slowed and grew heavy, Weaver acted. He slipped on quiet feet, on ragged boots with soft soles, off his bench. A hand reached back into his patchy coat’s pocket and brought out a pair of shoddy mechanical handcuffs. They’d do the job, he decided. Probably better than any fancier Old Tech bindings might.<br><br><em>Cuff a tekki with tech and all you’ll do is piss her off…</em><br><br>He noticed the glint of the knife, amongst the folds of her blanket. With one quick hand he dashed it away, across the room, and snapped a cuff over the nearby wrist. Silently and carefully, he reached and cuffed the other too. If she woke it’d be too late: hands cuffed behind her back, useless and immobile till morning.</div>
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>