Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]
<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: anon on 08-03-2009, 10:37:41</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>08-03-2009, 10:37:41</strong>
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				“Mistress Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grows…”<br><br>The voice came girlish, trembling in the crisp air. <br><br>The rough edges of the roof dug into her spin as she shifted her weight. The shingles were broken and cracked, loose in places and gone in others. She gave a small huff, her breath a clouded puff against the cool air. Prying another piece loose with her fingers, she studied it, slim fingers moving over the uneven surface. <br><br>“With silver bells and cockle shells…”<br><br>She looked over the estate, a finger lifting to brush back the crimson curls. Though the span of the ground was unkempt, the low shrubs that bordered the curving driveway threatening to spill onto the asphalt, the plants thrived. The rose bushes reached toward the main house in thorny curls, ivies sprawled over the sides of the building. <br><br>But even with the vegetation, the estate seemed dead, haunted, even. It was an atmosphere that she encouraged. It didn't hurt that the previous owner was a recluse that had a less than conventional reputation. <br><br>Yellow eyes glinting, she spun the shingle on the flat of her palm. A crow rustled its feathers in the weeping willow by the side of the house. Full lips curling, she balanced the shingle between her fingers. <br><br>A sharp jerk of her wrist sent the piece spinning through the air. <br><br>Her nails dug into the side of the gutter as she hung over the roof, the metal bending beneath her fingers. The black pupils dilated as she followed the journey of the shingle, the childish glee making her sharp features soft.<br><br>A loud squawk pierced the silent air, followed by a blur of black feathers. Settling back on her heels, she laughed, the sound disturbingly innocent. Sitting down, she let her legs dangle over the edge, her feet pointed as she swung them back and forth.<br><br>“And marigolds all in a row.”<br><br>Leaning back on her elbows, she gave a small yawn, studying the way that the clouds floated by above her head. It was growing dark, the first stars dotting the sky, glimmering just beyond the warm shades of the setting sun. <br><br>A quiet murmur of engine drifted to her ear. She glanced over out at the wrought-iron gates at the edge of the estate. It had been long since she’d been able to go as close as to the gate, never mind leaving the estate, but she could remember the metal spirals lined on top of the fence.<br><br>The flash of headlights at the gates brought a frown to her lips. Her eyes narrowed. Pushing herself up, she curled her fingers along the gutter once again before flipping off of the roof. With practiced ease, she slipped straight into the opened window. <br><br>Her landing was soft, on the balls of her feet. The unruly hair swung as she stood up. Her bared feet were silent against the grimy floor as she spun about again and slammed the window shut, making small bits of cobweb spiral up into the air. <br><br>Through the grime-dusted window, she watched the progress of the car as it made its way up the drive way. A low laugh escaped her lips. The voice deepened, into the low husk of a woman. “Well, this can be interesting.” 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>09-03-2009, 06:00:13</strong>
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				“Another drink sir?” the sweet voice asked. He could tell that she was no more than 18 but already had the look of someone who’s seen too much. The lines in her face spoke of bills not paid, lost sleep and perhaps a baby in the picture. A waitress in a bar was no living after all. <br><br>He tried to sport a smile as if that would somehow make everything ok, but it failed to the misery of his half drunk glass of whiskey. He didn’t have much but at least he could enjoy this drink. Portia would have insulted her and treated her with contempt for even approaching the table. <br><br>Portia Gibbons was his venomous ex wife who after he had suffered the accident decided to divorce him. That would have been fine had she not then gone after his reputation and the legal battle that followed. She had the best attorneys who dug up all sorts of minor things from his past in an effort to discredit him. In the end, she got the house, bought his business, and had him fired for what she termed 'executive incompetence.' <br><br>Portia Gibbons could afford whatever she wanted. She was an heiress and also a bitch.<br><br>He chuckled with a dark cynicism. No rest for the weary Mike, he thought. Have to keep on truckin'.<br><br>From somewhere in his throat he muttered, “Nah, still have a ways to go.” Realizing the young waitress probably had no idea what he was talking about, he looked toward the glass and took another swig. <br><br>She shrugged, put the bill on the table and walked off. <br><br>The lights in the smoky bar dimmed and a bright spotlight shone on the center of a makeshift stage. A woman in a long black evening gown began to sing to a soft and smooth melody played by a jazz band behind her. It was a noble effort to the five or six drunken people in the audience who had long abandoned their smile.<br><br>He recognized the song. It was Sway by Anita Kelsey. Very subtle and as her deep brown eyes sung into his soul, he knew that she was a passing flight, and that no songbird could free this falcon no matter how teasingly she held the key. It was a passing of attraction that was all. His days in dallying with women would have to pass for whiskey. At least it was consistent and didn’t let you down.<br><br>He raised his glass to her with one last breath of cheer for her effort and finished the drink. <br><br>Soon after, as he sat in his car, he held papers in his hand. To his right was an opened manila envelope with contracts and maps strewn on the seat. In his other hand was a set of old keys. <br><br>He lifted them up, looked at the old craftsmanship and heard a voice from his past carry him to when he was a boy sitting at the dining room table. There was a chess set in front of him with all the pieces gripped in conflict. He heard his father say, “Well Mikey, what are you gonna do? It’s your move boy.”<br><br>He grinned slightly and started the car up. Only one thing to do, and she’ll never know about it. <br><br>The whiskey was a mean spirit that fuzzed his head but he told himself that two drinks were fine and should be ok to drive. Off he went into the approaching evening. <br><br>The rural roads were quiet with only an occasional car that passed by. According to the maps it was fairly high up into the mountains. The attorney told him it was a nice location and could be just what he needed. He needed to get away from everything; from her.<br><br>Picking up his cell phone he pressed the speed dial to a familiar number.<br><br>“Hey Jakey, its Mike what are you to,” he said with a smile. The cool air was already making him feel at ease as it blew through his dark brown hair. He always drove with the car window open. It was somehow liberating, and always gave him the feeling of flying. <br><br>He continued on, “Yea it’s legit. I’m heading there now. Don’t tell Portia anything about this.” <br><br>After a few moments he nodded, “Thanks little bro. Say hi to pops when you go see him.”<br><br>As he hung up he slowed the car and turned into what seemed to be a driveway but grasses had grown up through cracks in the road. Up ahead was a looming black gate with a symbol he couldn’t make out on its top in the center; a marking that seemed to brand the sky.<br><br>He stopped the car and got out. It had been a long drive and as he reached back and stretched his arms, his chest revealed a muscular torso and well firmed build. He had to be. Portia had insisted that he stayed in shape. Despite her incessant behavior, that was one thing he was grateful for. His daily workouts were one of the few breaks he had from all that had happened. <br><br>He took a moment to look at the gate and all that was past it. The evening light shone along the grounds in a kind of morbid beauty, as if a dream had paid a visit then abandoned it to decay. <br><br>He pulled the keys out of his pocket and slid the very thick iron key into the hole of the gate. Jiggling it a few times he felt a click, and it finally turned. As he pulled the heavy gate open, a loud and old rusty screech filled the silence of the twilight. He jumped slightly then caught himself with a grin. Hold yourself together Mike, he thought. No hauntings here. <br><br>With enough room to drive his car through, he got back in and pulled forward on to the estate. He knew very little about this property or the relative that had left it to him in his will. Up until a few weeks ago, when the attorney called for the will reading, he had lived in the city, some 200 miles from there in a one room apartment, and fighting a bitter war with his wife. <br><br>This could be interesting he thought as he looked out his window at the bright roses that seemed to stand out amidst the dark shadows of the landscape. <br><br>Pulling up to the house he stopped, turned off the headlights and got out. Shutting the car door, he grabbed a backpack, the heavy keys and stood looking at the house. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>09-03-2009, 22:49:46</strong>
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				The slam of the door was the first in a long while. She peered out at the stranger standing in front of the house from one of the many rooms on the second floor. The yellowing lace allowed her a slightly compromised view of the man, but it was enough. <br><br>She hummed, a soft noise in the back of her throat, eerie in the habitual silence of the house. "What do we have here?"<br><br>Topaz eyes widened in surprise as a light from the full moon outside fell across the man's face. "Oh that's nice." Her smile grew, white teeth flashing briefly between red lips. "And a young one this time." <br><br>Her feet made no prints on the dusted floor, the once well-polished wood now covered with a film of grime. Slim hips swaying in a natural rhythm, she fair waltzed about the room, red curls flying about her. <br><br>Another peal of laughter bursting from her, she turned and twirled over to the record player on the vanity. The reflection in the cracked mirror showed only the decaying elegance of the room- the ornate decor on the furniture that were scratched, the paint chipping off of the delicate moldings edging the floor. She paid the reflection no attention as she moved the needle onto the record. <br><br>The voice of Frank Sinatra blared out in a scratchy rendition of Strangers in the Night. The notes soared into the musty air, filling the silence of the house with noise. It drifted down the stairs, snaking along the heavy banister, over the cracked marbled floor of the grand entranceway. <br><br>Whipping off the white cover of the nearby chair, she tied it about herself. The dusts gathered on it came off in a puff about her, dancing about her form in a lethargic swirl. She ran her hands down her sides, smoothing the wrinkles over the curves of her slim form. The fabric shifted, shimmered, and settled into the form of a dress, the hem of which settling with a small flutter over her knees. <br><br>Her mouth moving to the words of the song, she twirled again, stopping with her hip cocked to a side. Her lips pursed, she sashayed out of the room, her feet making no noise against the well-worn floor.<br><br>Pausing by the staircase, she ran her fingers over the spirals of the banister. With a low laugh, she hopped onto the railing. <br><br>Wild curls flying once more, she held out her hands as she flew down the railing, anticipation and excitement making her pale skin flushed. In a move that would have left an Olympic gymnast agape with incredulity, she flung herself off of the end of the banister and caught onto an arm of the chandelier hanging above the door. <br><br>The cobwebs there remained undisturbed as she settled herself into the crooks of the chandelier. Pulling her legs toward her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees, her eyes fastened on the slow turn of the brass doorknob. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>16-03-2009, 03:17:20</strong>
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				The door handle was an old dusty metal that nearly broke off in his fingers. He hesitated to turn it for this reason as well as he didnt' want to make any noise. The thought occurred to him as the hour grew deeper into the evening, that there could be animals and such sleeping inside. From what he understood, the house and land had not been lived in for some time and who knows what lay within. <br><br>Despite its decrepid feel, the door was of a very fine craftmanship and showed that in its time great work had been put into it. He slowly opened it and was surprised not to hear a creak.<br><br>As he stepped inside, he flicked a flashlight on and shined the beam around the hall. From what he could see, the ceilings were quite high, with columns along the side. Thin cloth was draped over some of the furniture that gave a tomb-like feel to the room. The air was thick.<br><br>Reaching over to the side of the wall, he felt around for a light switch. Finding only smooth surface he muttered to himself, "Should have arrived during the day." <br><br>This was going to take a lot of work, he thought. But better this than that cage he lived in the city. At least he was out in the country, alone and away from his thoughts. <br><br>If only for a moment... for as he walked around shining the point of light around the room his thoughts crept in... of her. That bitch, he thought. If only he could wrap his hands around that princess' throat... noone would ever know...<br><br>He chuckled at his foolishness as his eye caught on an elaborate chandelier that hung above the door. Something in its construction sparkled as he shone the flashlight on it. As if diamonds from inside sung as he gazed upon it. <br><br>"Very nice," he said to himself. His words echoed in the musty hall. There was something that fascinated him about old places and the mysteries that lay within their walls. Antique items held such an intrigue at times, that despite his life as a business man, he secretly longed to squirrel away in a place such as this. <br><br>Growing increasingly weary from not only the trip, his life and the several shots of whiskey that now consumed his energy, he slumped against the first step of the staircase leading upstairs. He knew he wouldn't be able to explore much tonight, but at least he could rest and begin his work in the morning. <br><br>His thoughts swam in a languid slumber, slowly drifting his mind to dreams. As he faded off, he thought of Portia, and how irritated she must be that he wasn't where he was 'supposed to be'. That woman was never much for going with the flow, and had to be in control of everything and everyone. He thought of his brother Jake, who he considered calling but figured he was probably too stoned to answer the phone.<br><br>In the last possible moment, before that line that crosses the infinity to dreams, he swore he could vividly hear Frank Sinatra. On his sleeping lips a faint whisper sung, "Wondering in the night... what were the chances..."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>16-03-2009, 07:00:15</strong>
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				Her eyes shone gold when the flashlight fell across where she sat. The black pupils turned slitted, startling against the odd-colored iris. He wouldn't be able to see her. She shifted watching him as he slumped against the stairs. At least not yet. Not until she allow him to. Though had he been more alert, he might have felt the eerie sensation of being watched. <br><br>She had shivered when he laughed, making the crystals hanging on the chandelier shake in response. There was something dark, bitter in that laughter. The sharp edge in it called to her, rattling the very core of her in the most delicious of ways. <br><br>Bright eyes narrowed, watching him as his eyes closed. Red lips pursing into a pout, she rested against the curve of the chandelier. <br><br>"Well that's no fun." She murmured. She had every intention of having some fun with the stranger that night. Perhaps start him off with slamming doors and ending with all the locks shutting automatically while tables flying about him. What could she say? She was fond of the classics. <br><br>Still, she couldn't very well scared him so much that he would run out of the house screaming that he would never come back. She still had need of him. It had been long since she had been able to walk past those gates and she was fair rearing and ready to walk amongst the living again. <br><br>She landed noiselessly on the ground, toes and fingertips grazing against the dusty floor. The hem of her dress swept against her ankles as she stood up. Crimson curls bounced, settling back in their places, framing her face as she approached the sleeping figure silently.<br><br>It wouldn't be all that hard to wake the sleeping man up. The crash of the chandelier should be enough. Or maybe the sound of the car plowing into the side of the house. Having the roof falling down about his ears might be a bit too dramatic. For now anyway. <br><br>She had to remind herself that the point was not to drive the man away from here. She heaved a sigh, the noise the raspy sound of dead leaves rustling in the wind. Restraint was not something that she was use to, nor was she looking forward having to exercise it before she properly introduce herself to the newcomer. <br><br>Nibbling on the knuckle of her index finger, she stopped before him, staring down at the sleeping figure. The sharp canine teeth pricked at her skin, leaving behind a red smear.<br><br>She hummed along with the song as she knelt down next to him, her voice taking on the timbre of a well-trained singer. Husky, rich, it echoed off of the cracked tiles and paint-peeled walls.<br><br>Her fingertips skimmed over his face, tracing the contours, following the throbbing vein at his throat. Her eyes followed the progression of her fingers, a child-like curiosity on her face. But there was also something else in her gaze, a dark fascination with the way that she couldn't quite mark his skin as she would've liked. Instead, her fingertips barely registered the skin beneath it.<br><br>Making a noise in the back of her throat, she sat down, cross-legged, her head cocked to the side. Her nose wrinkled. The man smelled of alcohol, smoke, bitterness, and...another shudder ran through her, a smile dawning on her lips, something primal that she couldn't quite put her fingers on. It was intangible, yet it was so thick about him that she could taste it. <br><br>She leaned in, stopping only when her cheeks almost brushed against his. Plump lips parted as she neared him once again, scenting the air. She fair purred at the potency of it. It was heady, a rush that made her want to wrap herself in it.<br><br>Giggling, she stood up, half-dancing past him and up the stairs. This one promised to be a fun one. She was not about to ruin it with a less-than-impressive start. <em>Better let him rest up...before the fun starts.</em>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>23-03-2009, 07:08:17</strong>
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				Deep inside the spiraling abyss of dreams, incoherent shadows split his mind. For every fall leaf, drifting on the gentle current of an autumn wind, blood dripped down the trees from which it came. Golden sunsets always preceded the darkness of the night and it was here that Mike found himself. <br><br>A muffled and distant laughter pulled him toward a room. He knew the laugh, it was Portia. His heart quickened and leapt into his throat as he slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Along the walls were glassed cabinets filled with precious china and collectibles. In one of them was a set of figurines, each meticulous in detail and very old. <br><br>He heard his father’s voice, old and tired, “Don’t worry Mikey.” His face looked ashen and ghostly as if all the life in the world had been sucked out, to leave the shell of a man now seated at the end of a long dining room table. <br><br>Mike tried to speak, to console his father, but no words came. He simply stood in the doorway and stared. He was back home at the house where he grew up. His father was supposed to be the strong one, his hero. Now he looked drained and beaten. <br><br>He woke up briefly as his body twitched slightly. On some level he was painfully aware of the hard stair digging into his rib. Fragmented sleep was not uncommon and was partially why he made sure to kiss his whiskey good night. Moonlight was his tormentor. Dreams lit the path to truths he had spent a lifetime covering and running from. <br><br>“Don’t worry Mikey.”<br><br>A woman’s laughter split the silence as tears of blood slowly trickled from the old man’s eyes. Deep inside him, he knew what was going on, and felt a surge of venomous anger build in him like a geyser about to explode. He longed to burst, to destroy all that was tormenting; to be the hero but knew it was not possible. It was all around him, she was all around him… closing in. <br><br>And yet, in the midst of this terror, he experienced something unusual; something unexpected. For a brief moment, in between sleep and his body in discomfort on the stairs, he had the oddest feeling of someone there. So close… as if to almost kiss who it was. <br><br>He shifted his body and thought for a moment. Wasn’t Portia, couldn’t have been. Even if she found out about the estate, she couldn’t have driven here this fast. If not her, who then? <br><br>Before much more thought could be put into it, his spirit was whisked away into the slithery depths of dreams. Moon still had him tonight and would make sure to light the path to hell as it had these last few years.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>23-03-2009, 21:44:33</strong>
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				She had never had a need for sleep. Or maybe she had, but it was so long ago that she no longer remember what it was like to dream or to fall into restful unconsciousness. Instead, she sat between the cradling roots of the weeping willow, watching the way the night give way again to day, the first blush of dawn becoming a full-blown hue of gold. <br><br>The chirping birds brought her out of the reverie that she had been lulled into. She stretched lazily, uncrossing her legs. The dew that had gathered on her during her sleep trailed down, following the contours of her face, leaving glistening tracks against the pale skin. <br><br>The thorns of the roses that had sprung up overnight about her pricked at her legs and arms. Small droplets of blood appeared on the pale skin, staining the white dress red. <br><br>Her eyelashes fluttered close. A low murmur rolled in the back of her throat, a smile tugging at her lips. <br><br>Opening her eyes again, she climbed to her feet, ignoring the slight stings from the thorns as she did so. Her fingers curled about the stem of a white blossom. It shook, the dew on the petals slipping and falling on her hand. She headed toward the house, the white rose in her hand.<br><br>Her free hand played with the waxy petal as she rounded the side of the house, her steps scattering the dews that had gathered on the blades of the grass. The mist was rolling over the hedge maze in the back. The white tip of the gazebo rose over the top of the leaves. It had been long since the chatters of people had filled the house or its garden. <br><br>The French doors creaked as she opened them, the rusty hinges threatening to come free. <br><br>She listened as the door clicked shut behind her. Bringing the rose up, her tongue darted out, tasting the earth and the bitter bite of fresh flowers on the petal. She laughed, making her way toward the entrance, her feet padding silently against the cool, cracked marble tiles. <br><br>The man was still there, in that awkward position against the staircase. Had he chosen to turn about and look, he would have seen that white rose, floating in midair and nothing more.<br><br>She knelt down next to him, studying the sleeping form. Twirling the rose between her fingers, she trailed it over the side of his face, the soft petals brushing against him. She watched him, studying the small, involuntary twitches of his muscles in response to being introduced to that new sensation.<br><br>Letting a low laugh, she tapped the rose on his nose. She leaned in close, the scent of rose, earth, and something darker and otherworldly mingling with the smell of stale beer. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty." She sang into his ear. "We have much to talk about." 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>07-04-2009, 16:04:05</strong>
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				There it was again; the unmistakeable sense that someone was there. Dreams were a funny thing and despite the conflicts that pulled on them, he usually didn't put much stock in the odd feelings that sometimes arose during them. Yet something or someone was there speaking to him. He couldn’t hear words per se, but more a feeling of someone’s presence and that it was time to wake up.<br><br>His grandmother used to tell him stories when he was a kid, about other worlds, unhappy spirits and the importance of living a good life. She was a little off but she made good cookies. Her house always smelled of warm chocolate every time they visited. Except that last time when the house was cold and she…<br><br>He turned slightly as his face twitched. Something was on his cheek. Slowly registering this he pulled back from dreams and mumbled, “What…” Lifting his hand up to his face he felt something soft. He opened his eyes and turned slightly to see the bud of a white rose pressing against his face. <br><br>Quickly he shifted back toward the wall in surprise, but felt a piercing jab where the stair had met his ribs throughout the night. Groaning he closed his eyes and clutched his side. “Goddamn it.” <br><br>After a few moments of catching his breath he looked back and saw the rose suspended in the air just a few inches from the step where his head lay. Blinking at the impossibility of this his mind searched for meaning and amidst the malaise of a poor night’s sleep and the pain in his side it came to him. <br><br>“Dark in here. Must be a trick of the eyes,” he muttered and looked at the sliver of light streaming in through the windows. He slowly got up and walked over to the doors. Slowly opening them he winced at the morning sun and lifted his hand to block it. <br><br>The growing pain in his side worried him. He’d fallen asleep in unsavory places before, but never had it affected him so much. Somehow he had always bounded up and moved on. Being in his early thirties and fit, he wasn’t old. Maybe he just didn’t pay attention to his body before. His life being so busy in the city it was easy to overlook daily aches and pains.<br><br>Walking back inside he passed in front of an old full length mirror that stood inside an ornate wooden frame. It looked elegant in its time and something that a princess would twirl in front of, dreaming of her first ball. For lack of any supplies, he passed his hand over the film of dust forging a trail on the glass. Excitedly he kept swiping until most of the glass was clear with piles of dust on the floor. He loved old things, and this mirror looked like it had a history. <br><br>Gripping the end of his black tee shirt, he slowly pulled the shirt up and over his head. The muscles in his chest and upper body stretched and flexed as he worked the shirt off his body. On his left shoulder extending down was a black tattoo of woven serpents around a dagger. <br><br>He grimaced at the shooting pain and turned the bruised side toward the mirror. No sign of scarring, cuts or any marks. Must just be muscle pain.<br><br>Flopping the shirt over his right shoulder he stepped outside and looked out at the morning. It was going to be a long day. Lot of work to do here, but it was quiet and he liked that. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>11-04-2009, 00:42:54</strong>
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				Her lips parted, the rose drooped slightly in her hand. The lack of reaction rendered her speechless for the first time for as long as she could remember.<br><br>An eyebrow arched as she followed him toward the mirror, the dress swirling about her, fabric shifting in hushed whispers. "My." She murmured, watching him as he wiped the dust off of the mirror. "Are you just thick or just so completely deadened by your life?"<br><br>She paused, reflecting on her words. A peal of laughter burst from her, bouncing off of the empty hall about them. The marble tiles vibrated, murmuring in response.<br><br>Collecting herself, she eyed him as he peeled off the shirt. "Well, in any case, you will be neither soon." She reached out a hand, tempted to trace her fingers along the tattoo there, to follow the curve of the serpent and down to the point of the dagger. But she caught herself at the last moment, just as her fingernail grazed against his skin. No contact. At least not yet. <br><br>Instead, she followed him outside, a silent, unseen shadow. The birds were chirping away again. Morning dew dusted the petals and leaves, making them fair shine when the light hit them. A sweet, almost coy scent lingered in the air, of flower, leaves, grass, earth and something unearthly. <br><br>She leaned in almost until her head was resting against his shoulder. "I wonder, what do you think of this place?" She tucked the rose behind her ear, the white of it startling against the crimson curls. "I tended to the gardens myself, you know. My-the previous owner wasn't much for the gardens, but he allowed me to play with it as I liked." <br><br>She fell silent. Her expression grew somber, whatever child-like glee that was there vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "Not that you can hear me. Would you want to though?" She grinned and the mischievous glint was back in her eyes again. "It can be fun, being bound-" She broke off. <br><br>"But first, we really have to get through this whole different plane issue right now." She waved her fingers, as though dismissing it. "Now unless you get the bright idea of summoning anything- which it doesn't seem like you will-I'm going need to wait until All Hallow Eve. Or..." She paused, her lips curling. "Well. That did work the last time. Now if you'll excuse me," she bowed with a flourish, "I'll need to get ready for the surprise." <br><br>Still laughing beneath her breath, she retreated back into the shaded halls. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>27-04-2009, 15:43:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“When’s he supposed to get here?” Mike's frustrated voice reflected the 30 minutes he’d been on hold waiting for what seemed like the only electrician in town. Apparently the 20 mile drive into the mountains, where he was, was not on the electrician’s top priority list.<br><br>“Fine I’ll hold,” he said and paced on the deck just outside the house. <br><br>The late-afternoon sun beamed down on the cluttered and overgrown patio. Tufts of weeds grew between the cracks in the stone slabs that had once been laid to perfection. To the side was a slightly cracked-glass table with a well crafted, black metal base. On it stood a bottle of Becks and a watch.<br><br>“Look just tell him I’ll do it myself,” he said angrily and hung up the phone. It had been some time since he troubleshooted an electrical system, but how bad could it be? Besides it would give him an opportunity to get his hands involved in something other than paperwork and legal proceedings. <br><br>He picked up his watch. 5:30p. Twilight was almost here. Much of the day had been spent cleaning up the patio area and wrestling with the electrical company. Feeling the weight of the sun on his back, he opened the doors and walked back inside the house. Dark, he thought. Part of him liked it that way. Dark meant that no one could see <em>him</em>. Living in the shadows has its perks, as long as one can deal with the darkness that comes with it.<br><br>His bags still sat on the living room floor, at the base of the staircase. Grabbing two of them, he went up the stairs to find the bedrooms and hopefully a shower.<br><br>When he reached the top, he stepped up to a hallway that extended in two opposite directions. Grumbling about the lack of light, and yet oddly fascinated with it, he flicked on his flashlight and turned to the left. <br><br>The first door opened to a bedroom with a large elegant canopy bed. The drapery still hung over it and was beautiful in a ghostly sort of way. On the wall facing the bed was a large painting of a woman with sharp red hair and a long dress. He couldn’t make out the details of the dress or painting due to the lack of light save only his flashlight. But her features were striking and beautiful. <br><br>“Ahh a bed,” he muttered with a smile. He painfully recalled the cold stair from the night before and set his bags on the floor. From one of them, he pulled out a towel and a bag of toiletries and looked around the room. A second door appeared from the beam of his flashlight. Must be the bathroom, he thought. Could there be water?<br><br>Opening the door with hope, he stepped inside. It was a bathroom with an old world style. There was a small tub with an ornate nozzle for the shower head, sink, cabinets and a toilet that he didn’t dare look into. He turned the nozzle and after a few trickles water came! A wide grin crossed his face as he quickly began undoing his belt, while kicking off his boots.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>12-05-2009, 06:13:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She had emerged from the attic when she spied him heading back into the house. Her steps were soundless as she descended from the dusty room. Stopping in the middle of the hall, she shook herself, the webs and dusts falling in a heap by her feet.<br><br>Her fingers curled about the old saddlebag in her hand. The edges of the bag were frayed with age, tattered with use. Brown splatters that bore an uncanny similarity to the shade of dried blood dotted the strap of the bag. <br><br>The muffled clinks of metal and glass sounded as she swung the bag over her shoulder with a careless ease.<br><br>She blew at a curled strand that fell over her face. Shaking it out of her face, she headed down the hall again.<br><br>Her lips pursed as she watched the man walked into the room. Crimson eyes narrowed at the figure and slim fingers tightened about the strap resting against her shoulder. <br><br>Thirty-seven rooms in the main house, and a combined ten in the servant quarters scattered about the estate. And yet of all those rooms, he had to pick that one. Hers. <br><br>Pointed chin jutted out in petulance, she followed him into the room. She lingered a few steps behind him, hoping that he wouldn't choose the time to turn about. A floating saddlebag might send him scurrying away, scared out of his wits. And she wasn't quite ready for that. At least not yet.<br><br>She dropped the bag on the bed. The plush fabric, however dirtied and moth-eaten it might be, did its job of muffling the drop. <br><br>She plucked the white rose from behind her ear. The pale edges were yellowing, the petals no longer fresh with the morning dew. She dropped the petal in the center of the bed, a small spot of white cradled in the rich fabric. <br><br>Hearing the splashes of water, she spun about. With the lazy grace so characteristic of a feline, she sauntered over to the bathroom.<br><br>She walked around him in a slow circle, a smile tugging at her lips as she swept a look over him, once as though a buyer looking for a purchase. She paused by the bathtub. Kneeling by it, she leaned against the porcelain edge. Her fingertips trailed against the water as it continued to fill up the tub. She wondered for a moment if the water was warm. There was only so much that she could feel. The steams wafting off of the surface would indicate that it was though. <br><br>The lawyer had been puzzled when the late owner had left a large enough sum of money to keep the water running. He had known her fondness of lounging in the pool of water, weightless for once by the rules of the natural world. <br><br>She laughed, shaking her head as she drew small circles over the water. He hadn't known that all that made her human-like would fade with his death. <br><br>Pulling her thoughts away from past days, she looked to the new inhabitant, her eyes alight with curiosity and mirth. <br><br>"Well come on then." The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "The water's waiting." She laughed as she rested her cheek against the edge of the tub. The laughter came easier this time, higher, more feminine. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>19-06-2009, 05:15:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His jeans at his feet, he slowly stepped towards the tub. Checking to see if there was a showerhead, he frowned slightly and looked down. Baths were not really his forte and much preferred showers. <br><br><em>Could this be the lady in the painting's room? Was she ever real or just a figment of the artist's imagination?</em> <br><br>Gripping his fingers around his dark blue boxers he slowly pushed down revealing a very firm backside with strong thighs. Looking at himself he admired how strong he was between his legs. It wasn't abnormally large but was a good solid size and fit very well with his body. He was always lucky in that area and prided himself on it. One thing he knew Portia would never have again was that and it made him feel good.<br><br>The water of the tub was nearly full. Having brought a small bar of soap with him, he stepped in with his right foot first then both feet. Slowly lowering himself into the water, its warmth passed over his body in a wave of relaxation and pleasure. Resting his head against the edge of the tub he closed his eyes. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 06:19:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her eyes alight in curiosity, she watched him as he stepped into the tub. She stretched against the side of the tub in one lazy, feline-like move. Her fingers dipped into the tub, fingers swirling the water about. <br><br>Her brows furrowed as he leaned back and closed his eyes. First he had the nerve to barge into her room and then to ignore her? <br><br>Her fingers reached out to close about his neck, her eyes narrowed, a low hiss escaping from the depth of her throat. She stopped short of his neck, the wet tip of her fingers just barely grazing his skin. <br><br>Drawing back, she laughed, shaking her head. Curls of the red hair snaked down against the porcelain tub, floating on the surface of the rippling water. "Of course, you can't hear me yet." She neared him again, her mouth a hairbreadth away from his ear. She closed her eyes. Parting her lips, she inhaled slowly, scenting him. "And you can't feel me either..." Pink tongue darted out to curl against the shell of his ear. "Pity." She moved behind him, her arms resting about his shoulders, fingertips drawing circles over his abdomen. "We really must remedy that soon, don't we?"<br><br>Standing up, she rounded the tub again, stopping at the opposite end. She knelt, her hands dipping into the water again. <br><br>Giggling, she scooped up a handful of water and splashed him with it. "No sleeping now." She fair purred as she leaned forward a little more. "And, if I have it my way, which you know I always will," she added conversationally, "you won't be getting much of it tonight either." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>27-06-2009, 04:42:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A moment's rest. The cool feel of the edge of the tub wasn't all that comfortable but after the drive, arguing with the electrical contractors, and his aching side he didn't care. <br><br>The water wrapped around him, embracing him as his leg shifted up exposing his knee.<br><br><em>Who was she? She was so beautiful. Her hair cascading over her shoulders... and that look in her eyes. Had she once lived here?</em><br><br>Drifting off to his thoughts he flew through his mind. He saw his brother with his friends; Bob Marley playing and the room full of smoke. He saw Portia yelling at attorneys and servants demanding to know where he'd gone. To this he grinned and silently congratulated himself. Way to go Mike. 10 points to the underdog.<br><br><em>So tired</em>... The water carried him to surreal thoughts of time and scattered images...<br><br>&lt;Flash&gt;<br><br>A woman with red hair reaching out to lick him; erotic, sensual... dangerous? <br><br>"What?" He murmured as he saw water everywhere flowing and black. Fingers dip in pale swirls. <br><br>Suddenly and what seemed to be right as he was crossing the line to deep sleep, he jarred awake and splashed water out of the tub; spilling along the floor. Very aware of water that had gone up his nose, he snorted a few times and tried to think. <br><br>Something had hit him. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>27-06-2009, 06:40:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Come on, come on." She sang, fingers drawing over the surface of the water again, tapping out a quick rhythm. She cocked her head at him, yellow eyes brimming with amusement. "Hurry up." Bringing her fingertip up to her lips, she licked the water drop off of it, eyeing him with a predatory gaze. Her voice dropped to a sultry depth again."We do have things to do." <br><br>Shaking herself, she stood up. The red curls were plastered against her skin, the water from it dampening her dress. Tip-toed, point-footed, she danced about the tub, laughing. She twirled, sending the droplets flying about the room, splattering the cracked mirror and peeling wallpaper. The dress clung to her form, the white fabric almost sheer now. <br><br>Stopping at the foot of the tub again, she grabbed the half-wet curls and pulled it to the top of her head. Posing, she peeked at him from beneath long lashes. "I must look my best for you, don't I?" Her lips curled. "Nothing like a ruined first impression."<br><br>Leaning forward, she tapped his nose with her fingertip, smiling coyly. "Don't keep me waiting." Her eyes narrowed. Her fingers cupped his chin, nails trying to dig into his skin. "I do not have the patience to play with a fool."<br><br>Releasing him, she stepped back, the smile on her lips again. Eyes half-closed, she curled a finger at him before a laugh broke from her lips. <br><br>Still chuckling beneath her breath, she headed back into the bedroom. <br><br>Weak streams of moonlight filtered through the years of filth and grime, illuminating what little it could of the room. <br><br>As she headed for the vanity in the far corner, her shoulders slumped. With each step, bits and pieces of the glamor and pride that she'd held about herself fell. <br><br>She shook as she sank into the seat before the small table. Dainty fingers pulled open the drawer and pulled out a white candle.<br><br>The match hissed into life. Cupping the match in her hand, she rested it against the wick of the candle, watching it as it came to life. <br><br>Blowing the match out, she stood up, taking the candle with her. The flame flickered, washing her face with its orange hue, the angles and dips of her face sharpened even more with the shadows they cast. <br><br>She headed for the footboard, candle in hand. <br><br>She watched, transfixed as the wax dripped onto the cracked wood. When a pool of it had gathered, she placed the candle on top of it, holding it in place until it set.<br><br>Her lips pressed together, she balanced herself on the footboard. Her head bowed, she curled a hand against a post, resting her head against the curve. <br><br>She breathed out, a soft, hissed sound. Giving herself a shake, she looked back at the bathroom. A smile dawned on her lips once more.<br><br>She hummed, passing her fingers through the flames, swinging her legs back and forth, her heels knocking against the footboard in a series of rapid, syncopated rhythm. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>07-07-2009, 07:34:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"What," he stammered and sat up in the tub. The water rolled in ripples around him as he wiped water from his face.<br><br>Noone could be here, he thought as he looked towards the doorway, and the darkness that lay beyond. The light of the flashlight, still cast an eerie beam across the old bathroom floor as he reached for a towel.<br><br>"You're losin it buddy," he said to himself and chuckled. This was just an old house, but it was now his and he had every interest in exploring it. Whatever stories lay within these walls, they were long silent now.<br><br>Out of the tub, and sufficiently dried, he wrapped the towel around himself and walked back into the bedroom. His bare feet stepped uncomfortably on the cracked linoleum as the beam of the flashlight lit up the chamber. <br><br>Odd he thought, smells almost like ... a match, or something burning. <br><br>Shuffling through his bag he pulled out a clean pair of boxers and a black t-shirt that read It Ain't Over 'Till It's Over in blood red on the back. Reaching the end of the bed he stopped and stared.<br><br>Laying crumpled, and in strips of leather that looked ancient, was an old bag. <br><br>Had this always been here? He didnt' remember seeing it before, although it had been dark. It's possible with the shadows from the flashlight he missed it at first pass. His mind jumped to the splash of water in the tub and the odd feeling that he was being watched...<br><br>Shaking his head he grabbed the bag and felt what seemed to be various metallic or hard objects inside. It seemed almost to be a bag of tools, perhaps in older times. Maybe someone had come to repair something in this room, and left it? Would have to wait for tomorrow he thought, as he yawned and placed them on the nightstand.<br><br>With a little trepidation he slowly lay down onto the bed. Sinking slightly he felt the mattress all but consume him, and as he slid under the sheets, he chose to ignore the old smell for the comfort of this over the stairs from the previous night. A sunken mattress in old sheets was far better than hard stone.<br><br>As he lay, he thought about Portia. Would she ever find him? She had connections but he wondered... He might be free from her. This new home seemed occupying of his time for a good while; something he needed away from the mental prison of his city life.<br><br>Sleep carried his thoughts as he drifted closer to dreams. In the deepest depths of his consciousness, before the door that passes over he saw a foot knocking against wood. A woman's foot...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>07-07-2009, 23:40:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yellow eyes blinked, confusion crossed the sharp features when he moved the bag and fell into the bed. Her bed. <br><br>Her lips curled in a snarl. <br><br>Pushing herself off of the footboard, she landed noiselessly on her feet. A pout found its way to her lips and her brows furrowed. Petulance making her movements short and jerky, she stalked over to the side of the bed. She yanked the bag open and rifled through the objects in there, metal and glass clinking against each other as she shoved them aside. "Oh once you make the deal, you'll never be able to ignore me again." Her voice came out as a low growl, sinister tinge weighted her words. <br><br>The cuffs swung from her fingers, the rusted metal knocked against each other. She hopped onto the bed and straddled the sleeping form. Only a slight displacement of air signaled her new position above him. <br><br>Her fingers trailed along his jaw. They curled over his ear in fleeting touches and brushed against his hair. <br><br>The hem of the dress twisted up her thighs as she leaned forward. Nimble fingers closed the shackles about each of his wrists and attached it to each posts above his head. She yanked hard on the chains of the cuffs. "I really rather you be awake for this next part, but if you're not..."<br><br>She leaped off of the bed and dug through the bag again. This time, she came up with a small blade. Unlike the rust-covered cuffs, it glinted with the polish of a treasured possession. She ran the blade up against her fingertip. A breath escaped from her in a soft hiss. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>11-07-2009, 01:15:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Deep inside the fabric of dreams, he spun on a wheel. Each spoke perfectly aligned yet old, he held on to the different aspects of his life that now approached him in whispers. <br><br>"Hang in there Mikey," his brother said while holding a hooka. That half-baked smile, swimming with the delirium of irresponsibility, laughed slightly and nodded. <br><br>"Ugh the service here is deplorable," her shrill voice said above the murmur of the country club. Portia, for being the snobby bitch she was, had the cutest nose and legs...<br><br>Something about legs stopped his dream for a moment. Entwined in legs, or perhaps wrapped around him?<br><br>He startled awake and opened his eyes in shock. The cold feel of metal forced his wrists in place above his head, as he looked around frantically. In some odd way, he had the feeling while he was dreaming, that a woman's legs were on him. That a woman was on him.<br><br>How could this be? Twisting his head to the side he pulled on the cuffs, shaking the bed frame. "Hey," he yelled. "What's going on here?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>11-07-2009, 06:47:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oh good. You're awake." She clapped her hands. A trail of blood snaked down her finger, smeared against her palm as she clapped.<br><br>She rounded the bed, the drops of blood blossoming like red flowers in snow against the white of her dress. "It would have been quite the let down if you had decided to sleep through this." She cocked her head as she straddled him once more, playing with the knife. "And I don't deal well with disappointments."<br><br>The candle light glinted off of the blade as she slipped it beneath his shirt. Humming a tune, she slowly brought the knife up, timing the rip of the fabric to her song.<br><br>Still humming, she stabbed the knife into the mattress, right by his head. The blood from her finger smeared against his chest as she eased the torn shirt apart. A smile curled her lips as her gaze swept over his form appreciatively.<br><br>Making her way to the footboard, she worked the candle off of the pool of hardened wax. Raising her finger, she let a few drops of blood drip into the wax that pooled about the wick. <br><br>Yellow eyes fixated on the wick, she whispered something neither in human nor animal language. Her breath washed over the flame. A curl of blue smoke rose from it. <br><br>With the blood still staining her fingertip, she drew curls and spirals over his chest. Carefully, she tilted the candle, letting the wax pour out, following the blood-marked trail. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>12-07-2009, 04:39:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				If fear had a voice, it had trickled from his mouth in a slow inescapable gasp as he struggled for air. His eyes widened in horror as he watched the knife cut into his shirt and what felt like .. something pull the fabric apart.<br><br>"Help me!" He screamed and pulled at the metal bindings. His legs flailed as the bed shook. <br><br>His mind went numb as the blade flew past him and dug into the bed next to his face, and before he could register what was going on, the burning sting of wax tore into his chest.<br><br>Squirming he twisted in the bed, closed his eyes and grimaced. <br><br>Someone must have gotten into the house, maybe one of Portia's thugs. <br><br>His brain worked overtime... <br><br>She must have hired someone and now he's a dead man. Dead and buried with noone to know; another permanent fixture in this decayed house.<br><br>But... how could the knife and candle do that on its own... Slowly opening his eyes, he saw her. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>12-07-2009, 08:07:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Her face fell at the absence of a scream, but brightened once again when she saw his eyes open and fasten on her. She wiggled her fingers at him. A few drops of her blood landed on his cheek with that gesture. "Oops." She smiled and leaned forward. <br><br>Her tongue lapped up the drops at his cheek, curls of her hair brushing against his chest. Her breath ghosted against his ear when she spoke, her voice low and husky. "My bad."<br><br>She pushed herself back up. The light from the candle flickered orange against her skin as she held it between them. The faint beam fell across his chest, illuminating the glyphs that she had scrawled across him with the wax. She balanced the candle in the flat of her palm and stared at him, curiosity written over her face. <br><br>"Now, it's only polite that you introduce yourself before you take to someone's room, tub, and bed." She tapped him on his chest once before tracing the raised bumps of the cooled wax with a finger. "But seeing how you're such an uncultured, bumbling oaf, I will give you a second chance."<br><br>Her free hand rested against his abdomen. Her eyes half-closed, she smiled. "And calm down, darling. No harm will come to you. Yet." She leaned forward, peering down at him, the red tress coming dangerously close to the candle in her hand. "Now. Who are you?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kurzyk</strong> on <strong>24-07-2009, 04:37:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Terror found a voice as he saw her shimmer into being from the air. Her appearance while beautiful had a psychotic craze to her eyes that set his heart to panic. Trying to turn away he yanked on the restraints causing the bed to shake.<br><br>His mind tried to grapple with what he had seen. In a dazed state of panic, "uh.. Mike. Mike's my.. name." He stuttered slightly and stared at the impossible.<br><br>Also for all the anger and confusion, he was not unaware of the fact that she was straddling him. And as she rocked back from whispering in his ear, he felt a stirring between his legs. But having just woken up and in a state of panic he pushed his thoughts to the most immediate concern.<br><br>"Let me go!" His voice barked in anger trying to hide the fear. But his eyes and sweat that coated his face spoke otherwise. Did that just happen? Must have been a dream. Things like that couldn't happen. This woman had been hired.<br><br>"Who sent you? Did Portia send you?" He stammered, trying desperately to both fathom the situation and deal with the danger he suddenly found himself in. Not to mention they were miles from civilization and she had appeared out of thin air. <br><br>"No.. no no." He stammered and shook his head trying to turn away. That can't be, had to be a trick she pulled. Portia was toying with him.<br><br>Fear turned to rage as he turned towards her. "You tell that bitch she's not gettin' a thing." <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Whispers [Kurzyk and anon]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>anon</strong> on <strong>24-07-2009, 05:25:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She shivered, the potency of the fear about him washing over her in a heady rush. The flame of the candle trembled as she held it to the side. She brought herself even closer until their faces were a mere hairsbreadth apart. "Ah Mike." She breathed his name, eyes almost completely closed now. Her voice came softly, almost sweet. Her free hand caressed the side of his face. "Mike. Short for Michael?" Her thumb swept against his lower lip. "Michael, from Mikha'el. A lofty name with many famous bearers, each worthy of their namesake. But you, Mike, are you?" <br><br>She paused, seemingly lost in her thoughts. With a sudden push against his chest, she sat up once more. She studied him, her eyes narrowing. <br><br>She brought her hands down across his face. Her fingers stung at the impact against his cheek. She glowered down at him, satisfaction stirring in her as a red hand print appeared on his cheek. "That," she spat out the word, her lips curled once more into a snarl. "Is for using foul language in the presence of a lady. And this," she brought her hand down across the other cheek. "Is for thinking that I would work for anyone."<br><br>She held the glare for a breath longer before softening into a smile again. Her fingers tapped against the marks on his face. "But no worries." She sang, her voice light. "I will give you one more chance to make a good impression, hm?" She batted her eyelashes, looking every bit coy. Her fingers danced down his torso. "You sound like you have a problem. And since I am feeling so generous, I will help you out." Her fingers snapped his waistband. "How does that sound? All you have to do is share an itsy," she held up her thumb and index finger. "Bit of you to make a bond strong enough for me to go off grounds, but that should not be too hard for you." The rest was spoken in a rush, fast enough that one word blurred into the next. She paused and smiled sweetly down at him again. "Deal?"
			</dd>
		</dl>
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