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Strigavi / Re: The oblivious
« Last post by Briar on Today at 01:49:48 AM »
Too soon, probably, to be naked. All of Briar’s skin tingled. All of Rian’s smells were magnified by the hot water. Caught in the steam and swallowed up by his senses. They both moved slowly, carefully, trying not to take up more space than they absolutely had to. He could feel the taut peaks of her breasts brushing his chest. His own nipples equally tight. Like small knobs aching to be twisted. ”Don’t be. I like a bit of a challenge.” He tried to joke, kissing the bone between her cheek and temple.

”Yeah.” Briar chuckled, soap held tightly so it didn’t slip away. ”Where would I put it?” He did have his cabin now but old habits die hard. When he thought to leave and hide out at the inn he had scooped everything up. Sometimes he did that when he left it in the mornings too. Just swept all of his clothes, bedroll, and toiletries into his cabinet without thinking about it.

It was almost unbearable. Nose so close he could have stuck out his tongue and tasted her most intimate places. Or better yet give her whole sex a nibble. Briar ached to see how it would feel between his teeth. What would she taste like? Almost reasoned himself into doing it. She would be satisfied, and he wouldn’t have to perform. To embarrass himself; to explain why he would rather not even try.

The shower really was small, though. No room for the back arching and wing twitching he hoped to cause. And he they were running out of time anyway. Excuses to staying the shower rinsing off and rolling down the drain with his soap suds. Cheeks flushed and lip plucked between her teeth, Rian didn’t look very sure of herself either. They were quite the pair.

She left the shower first. Leaving Briar there to watch her walk away again. This time the view was impossible not to follow. Cute, shapely little ass shifting with every step. Together they bumbled around the bathroom. Wings and bodies brushing. She treated every furtive glance he caught her in like an accident. Goosebumps working over her arms before she even opened the door to let the cool air waft in. Hair mostly dry and chest patted down he wrapped the towel around his waist. That might free up her attention, he thought. ”Don’t be. Small space and a lots of elbows. It’s okay.” Stepping out into the bedroom he breathed in cooler air. Felt a little less confined. Maybe a little more confident too. ”Some.” His eyes were heavy. Briar didn’t know if it was lack of sleep or heady desire from swinging between the steamy bathroom and the open bedroom.

”Do you?” He asked. She looked nervous. She was Rian, of course, she always looked a little caught off guard. But there was something hungry in her eyes too. Briar was warlord prince enough to know when he was being hunted. ”Come here.”

He opened his arms to wrap her up in them. And his wings. And a warming spell. Mouth trailing from her hairline to her lips. Kiss possessive without being deep. He didn’t want to get too carried away. ”Let’s put some clothes on and try the making out thing again.” That had been fun. Comfortable. Pleasing. But he wasn’t crazy either. Needs didn’t dissolve because you were offered something else. If you were hungry a nap wouldn’t fix it. If you needed a drink no amount of food would help. ”Unless you need me to kiss something else?”
Thure Island / Re: Footsteps in the Sand
« Last post by Isidore Nazaire on Today at 01:07:54 AM »
Once she had slid to the limits of the seat Isidore stopped. A slip of air between their legs, not quite touching but so close he could feel the warmth of her skin. His body turned towards hers while they chatted. He could have loomed. Or pulled her over into his lap if he were that sort of man. By caste and Jewel it was his right. But he did not. He only cracked open the interest she had stirred in him with her clever craftwork.

Even without his own talent for reading people he could tell that Jin-ae was intrigued. It seemed he was right in aiming for her insecurities and praising her accomplishments. Offering her the opportunity to grow, to learn more and to be better. ”My caste makes it impossible to learn, but all the more appreciative of a skillful healer.” He agreed. Warlord Princes were, as a general rule, failures at healing. They had strong emotions that tainted the work, and were better suited to sundering flesh than suturing it.

”That is a real advantage. Without a caste to call you in any particular direction you can learn from a broader pool of craft.” What part of the pool did his little witch want to dip her toes into? ”Particularly if you have centuries to do it in. How old are you, Jin-ae?” A numerical answer would do him no good. But it was a good starting point to getting the information that mattered.

The air sweetened with the juice of a firmly held melon. The piece dampening Jin-ae’s lips as she slid it into her mouth. Isidore could feel the buzz of interest and anxiety his question set along her skin. So she was a scholar. Good. That would make her very easy to satisfy. Books were easy to come by, and learning could be done at home or in the temple. Places where he had friends to make sure she didn’t go getting herself involved in any trouble. ”No rush.” He encouraged softly while she raced her own ambition to settle on an answer.

Answers, really. While Jin-ae debated herself he started to formulate plans. How to put to use what she knew while giving opportunity for growth. There were a few places in his operations and ventures that could benefit from just the careful judgment and detail oriented nature she displayed. Adding in the skill she knew, and hoped to learn, he could see her excelling in several roles. For now he decided to set her apart from the rest, that way she would appreciate his approval all the more. And be willing to work harder to keep herself from the grunt work in the fields. ”An excellent place to start. We’ll arrange a tutor, and I’ll make time to do a lesson every week or so, as my schedule permits. Not in the masking, though, I’m horrendous at that.”

He watched her eat a little longer. Waiting to see if she had more questions or if she was done for the time being.
Estel Province / Re: In Between Sunlight
« Last post by Ephram O'Hannon on Yesterday at 10:56:19 PM »
Ephram snorted, floating pins and shirts to hang against the line. "I care. And my customers. They like to know their food is clean." And well preserved, and neatly arranged, and all the little nuances that came with packaging baked goods. His mentor had had a lot to say about how to present things in an appealing way. "Like how you would prefer a running stream to stagnant water." At least he hoped Daithi had preferences about where he was getting his food when he wasn't at Ephram's. Darkness knew he couldn't stop him from running headfirst into danger, but he'd really rather not find out he'd gotten sick from something as banal as bad water or the wrong type of mushroom.

He rolled his eyes at excuses, moving onto his next shirt. Daithi might not remember his first change, many tended not to, beyond the pain of it, but Ephram did, vividly, and it'd been a long process then. Imagining it now made his stomach twist up in all sorts of uncomfortable knots, skin prickling. Walking with Daithi would smooth it all out, at least. His nephew was amiable, and didn't push, and didn't look at him the same way some of his closer relatives did. He'd never liked the combination of pity, regret, and confusion that always accompanied pack visits.

If he'd been holding the clothespins in his mouth he might have choked on them, Daithi's question wuffing the air out of his lungs like a punch. He coughed instead, focusing on pinning up a pair of pants. "Yes, Rois is the woman, the boy's mother. And no, she is my niece. A sister-daughter." For him, Darkness. Even with their long lives, and if they hadn't been related, Ephram would have turned her toward males closer in her age range. Much better to be making pack with than a Warlord Prince who played at Warlord and lived half a life.

He peered over his shoulder at Daithi, one eyebrow raising, curious as to if Moira had received the same speech, and if so, what that had been like. "Good of you to be here for him, he needs a good hand." he decided on. Likely no one better in the pack to teach the boy to walk as a wolf, no matter what the arguments might be. Certainly no one as skilled in the shift. He smiled over his shoulder at his nephew. "Or paw, rather." He'd assumed, before the incident and Daithi's change, that he would have looked for a female of his own, had his own little litter. But Ephram could see the logic in adopting, too. "I don't think they had much by way of pack, before you and I." He didn't know how involved she was with Moira and the rest, but if she were working with him he didn't think it would be very much. He was about as fringe as one could get.

The next question caught him too, but differently. Was Rois nice? Capable, certainly, with a delicate hand and dedication to learn. Easy to teach, too, and clean. Quiet, in a way he hadn't expected out of a woman her age, and with a son. Gentle. Steady, unless he caught her wrong footed and surprised her, but that wasn't so unusual.

"I do think she is nice." He decided, reaching for the last pair of pants. Other clothes were already flowing to their lines, socks, several rags, a sweater, clothespins snapping in place. "Shaken, a little, coming to live here. It's new, and strange, and she's making her space." Earning her way and managing a child besides. "But she's strong, too. Loves Tailwagger very much," he smiled when he used Daithi's nickname for the boy, leaving the laundry basket to settle itself by the door with a flick of Craft so he could walk around to stand nearer. "I think she will appreciate your company if you are nice too." Definitely in need of friends and pack bonds, even if seemed a bit backward to start with Ephram and Daithi and not... well, better adjusted packmates.
Strigavi / Re: The oblivious
« Last post by Rian on Yesterday at 10:18:59 PM »

”Oh.” Rian was sympathetic, and sorry. They had been doing so well until she’d suggested this foolishness. And it was foolish. She was too shy to really look at him. And Briar looked, looked and didn’t come any closer. Stuck still on the outside of the tub. Her knees rubbed together in regret, the pair of them staring at each other. Rian opening her mouth to break the tension before it could set in. Her joke flat, but it carried momentum with it.

Briar moved toward her, and Rian toward him. Then, suddenly, he was in the shower with her. Hissing from the hot water and prying her meager covering away. Not much for him to see before Rian pressed against him, breasts flattening into his chest. His spear rode the curve of her hip. Present in a way it had not been before. Rian squirmed. Before they had not been naked.

”Well that’s good. I think.”  At least they were together. Rian let her hands sweep his bare sides, sliding around to his back and up toward his shoulders. He felt good. Warm, soft. Good. His own hands securing her hips as if she would flee him. Fingers kneading for purpose unknown. They did not travel from that spot no matter how many times hee stomach flip flopped hard enough to make her muscles twitch.

”That’s good too.” Rian mumbled, burying her face in his neck and rocking into his. She liked the slick way her breasts slid across his chest. Rian concentrated on that for a moment, knees made weak by his fingers. Briar inhaling while she exhaled. Each of them fighting for space, or finding a rhythm. Expand. Contract. Rian breathed him in, mouth opening over his shoulder. ”I’m sorry. None of the others are any bigger.” Maybe a little. But they were elsewhere. Far from her comfort zone.

”You really do carry around everything.” Rian turned her face away from his lather. Leaning back so he had room to wash. Her hands followed his body down. Drawing bubbles up his wings. Her whole body flinching with his touch. Darting away from it while she leaned in for more. He was clean. She was clean. Body pulsating in all the places he had touched. Rian nodded, slicking soap bubbles from his arm. ”All done.” She was clean. Stomach tied into a tight knot of desire an uncertainty.

She turned the water off and pulled the curtain back. Only one towel lay folded on the counter. Rian stared at it before stepping out and handing it over. Her robe hung from the back of the door. It would survive being wet. Rian wrapped herself in it and tried not to look. She was beginning to shiver in earnest and she wasn’t sure if it was cold, or something else. Licking her lips, she dried her face with the arm of her robe, bumping into Briar as she turned.

”Sorry. Sorry.” The bathroom was small too. She pulled the door open wide so some of the steam could escape. And them. ”Feel better?” She was clean but wound tight. Tighter than tight.

Sør Province / Re: Steward! Oh Steward!
« Last post by Vigot Thidrandisson on Yesterday at 09:39:08 PM »
Steam rose from the tea beside Vigot's pens. Light from the window pooled in, cool and bright. He'd been up for several hours, looking over the accounts, organizing the books. He'd just leaned back in his chair, tea in hand, steam fogging up his glasses, when one of his hallway alarms went off. He had time to take one bracing breath before Astrid breached the door, knocking more as courtesy than formality, and then was in a chair.

Astrid was like a whirlwind in Vigot's little office. She was also the reason he'd actually gotten chairs, and not just little stools to pull out when he was feeling particularly hemmed in and didn't want people to visit for too long.

He looked over his glasses and his tea at her, blinking, already tracking back to the most recent reports from their districts. He didn't think there'd been anything amiss, but Astrid had always been quick to intercept missives, about anything and everything, and perhaps she'd caught something before it'd made its way to him. "Lady Astrid," he said. He knew she didn't care about the formalities so much, but it was hard to kick the training, even if the 'my friend' did bring a little smile to his face.

But whatever it was seemed serious, her normal, Darkness-may-care attitude not so present. He set his tea down, one hand automatically going to his most updated ledger, the other to a blank page in a different book so that he might separate out pertinent information. "What kind of something? Which numbers?"
Character Applications / This Guy
« Last post by dergon on Yesterday at 07:41:40 PM »
Jocelyn Elouan

The Basics

Full Name:
Gender/Pronouns: male/him/his

Ethnicity: SL
Birthplace: Rosnay, Ile de Paon
Current Location: Corlay, Ile de Paon
Profession: Raider

Caste: Warlord Prince
Birthright Jewel: Jewel (CUT ##)
Offering Jewel: Jewel (CUT ##)

Face Claim: Carlos Freire Maybe

The Body

Body Type:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:

Anywhere from a few sentences to a few paragraphs. Describe what sets your character apart on sight: any notable facial features, scars, or tattoos; how they dress; what kind of body language they use; how (or if) they display their Jewels; et cetera. Be sure to double-check and abide by the racial characteristics laid out in our lore section.

The Mind

Craft Strengths: 15pts
Craft Weaknesses: Aspects of Craft your character underperforms at

Personal Strengths: A list of admirable or valuable traits or skills your character possesses (optional)
Personal Weaknesses: A list of detestable or imperfect qualities your character possesses, or skills they’re miserable at (optional)

At least two five-sentence paragraphs. Bring your character to life; you can tell us about their habits, their goals, how they react to—and interact with—others, what they’re like when they’re happy or angry, and so on.

The Backstory

  • Name | Relation | Jewel to Jewel Caste
  • Name | Relation | Jewel to Jewel Caste
  • Name | Relation | Jewel to Jewel Caste

Aim for several descriptive paragraphs or a detailed timeline. This section should contain the circumstances of a character’s birth (unless they are unknown), a bit about their childhood, their Birthright Ceremony (if applicable), their Offering Ceremony (if applicable), and any other important milestones they might have encountered, like a Virgin Night, a death in their immediate family, or anything impactful that shaped them into the individual they are today.

The Writer

Player Name: dergon/cole
Player Pronouns: she/her
Timezone: -6
Contact: PM or discord
How did you find us?: I was in the closet

Inactivity Instructions: If you do not log in to your player account and cannot be reached by staff for a period of three months, your account will be considered inactive. (It’s okay; life happens to the best of us.) In the event of your inactivity, what should staff do with this character? (You may answer this question with things like Archive/Retire or Put up for adoption, or you can specify how you’d like them to be written out of the plot in your absence.)
Parbelavi / Re: Travel companions
« Last post by Lillian on Yesterday at 06:25:42 PM »

”They aren’t all for me.” Lillian defended herself, eyes sweeping the jumble. She reached out to steady a stack as it wobbled, Peitar’s probes filling the area. She shot a frown in his direction, knowing is probes couldn’t pick the expression out, which made it safe to scowl at him. ”Maybe not to you.” But to some it was, Lillian was sure. Unless all he had was raiders. They probably didn’t care for dress patterns.

Peitar was ready to argue. And Konnar had moved in, standing near her shoulder without crowding. Lillian looked at him, lips wrinkling as she took in his tense stance. Before she could soothe him, she was distracted by Peitar again. ”Why not? They’re good horses.” And some could be trained to pull a plow! Touching Konnar’s arm, Lillian gave him a false and cheery smile. This was going to be fine. They were warriors both! They would make friends, somehow. She hoped.

But not like that. Lillian shook Konnar’s arm, and her head. ”We should all go together. And if we ride, I can see the lay of the land better.” She couldn’t fly over it like the rest of them. Lillian blushed and glanced at Peitar, who couldn’t see anything at all. Clearing her throat, Lillian drew her hair over her shoulder and ran fingers through it.

And of course it got worse.

”Konnar. No.” Lillian tapped into her Green and wove calming craft around them. A few of the young boys scampered away, sensing the tension mounting between the warlord princes. ”No.” She said to Peitar too. ”This isn’t a coup. We aren’t going into to strip Peitar of his power. We’re combining forces.” She tried to remember some of the phrases she had heard her father use when she was a girl. The general had lead his men with knowledge rather than power.

Parbelavi / Re: Letters by Merit
« Last post by Ilithian on Yesterday at 04:47:33 PM »
Sweet Lillian,

Please tell me you exaggerate, my friend. Naked, naked? Completely naked? I knew Peitar was a bit of an odd hat to say the very least (there isn’t an inch of him missing in so far as I have seen by the by) but you make him sound as if he’s flapping his spear around more often than not.

Why do you mind his widow laying, anyway? I like the notion of being considered clever very much however in this I seem to be failing you. Peitar serves me to the best of his ability. Loyalty is hard to find, and while he may never be fully mine one must make compromises to get what they want. As long as he’s behaving, I could care less who tumbles in or out of his bed. Unless it becomes a burden or insult to you- in which case I’ll send Cyprian over immediately to castrate him.

Just teasing. Mostly.

I am very sorry you are still in a tent. Should I send someone along to help build you a cabin? Snow will be on us before you know it, and I can’t bare the thought of you freezing in your posh boots. Most of the handier men are very near by working with the Dena Nehelians. They can surely spare a few days to have you properly housed.

Whatever made you cry, though darling? Was it Peitar’s penis or his temper? Between the two of us I am sure we can find ways of clipping both.

I’ve sent two kisses and a box of apple pastries with Merit. Give Peitar and Elissar my affection. I suppose you can tell Konnar I said hello too, if you must. They best all be treating my dearest friend with the best of etiquette and Protocol. I’m not afraid to borrow Cyprian’s testicle snippers.

Parbelavi / Letters by Merit
« Last post by Lillian on Yesterday at 04:02:30 PM »
My Dearest Ili,

I don’t know what you see in this Peitar. I know he is a hero of the war, and lost his eyes (and half his face) to Witch, but really. You could do much better. He is crass! And often naked. Ilithian, I have never met an Eyrien man who spent so much time naked!

Not only that, and I mean this as kindly as possible, Ili dear, but I am very nearly certain he is sleeping with every widow in this queen forsaken district. I think it is time you rethink this warlord prince, whatever he may have accomplished before. It is quite clear that he is too busy servicing old women to properly serve you, if you catch my meaning. I do hope you do, Ili. You are very clever.

This district itself is not bad. The warrior are horrifying but the people are rugged and sturdy. Not a one has balked at any question I ask or any task I assign, though most still look to Peitar for final permission. So far he has granted it, and even lets me borrow his table to write you. I cannot fit a desk in my tent. Really I can’t fit much of anything in there, but I am doing well.

I’ve only cried once!

I love you very much my friend, and thank you again for all the boots, they have proven most useful. I’ve sent a kiss via Merit, and I will send a progress report on the land via regular mail so no one gets suspicious.

Strigavi / Re: The oblivious
« Last post by Briar on Yesterday at 11:00:12 AM »
The curtain that divided the shower from the rest of the bathroom blocked his view of Rian. Lurking by the door between bedroom and bath he let his nerves prickle and twist. Stomach doing cartwheels in his gut. There was no way she hadn’t heard him close the bedroom door. No way she didn’t see the shadow he cast. Silence stretched out under the flow of the shower, which meant she was right there. On the other side of the curtain. Waiting.

Untying the apron was hard with shaking hands. Knot fumbled a few times before he managed it. Left in a pile with his shorts. Spear stirred in interest but not hard. He paused in front of the curtain, hand hovering between his legs. Should he stroke it to fullness, or leave it the way it was? Mother Night he felt like an idiot. Determined not to make things any more awkward than they already were he peeled the curtain aside. Eyes skimming from ankles up to Rian’s eyes. Quick and bashful. Lips pressed tight as he took in the dark slip of hair between her closed thighs and the square rag she covered most of her breasts with.

”More like my nerve.” He chuckled back. Easing half towards the shower. It was small. Very small. That was good. Not much room for maneuvering. A good excuse to make the shower quick. Maybe nothing would really happen after all. Even if his spear throbbed in opposite hope. If seeing her wet and naked wasn’t enough to make him hard the way she looked him over was. Too bashful to really take him all in. Eyes not quite dropping down his length. But she did sputter about fitting. The worry in her tone a blessed distraction. His worry was not something he could fix. Her worry was. Palms reaching for her elbows he stepped in under the water. Half his body caught by the scalding spray. He flinched with a hiss. Adjusting to the heat before relaxing into the water as she pulled him in completely.

Of course she meant the shower! That was exactly what he had assumed. Exactly. Tucked into one another his spear brushed her hip, wings held low on his back so that they didn’t peek through the curtain and make the water travel out. ”It’s alright. We can be nervous together.” He told her. What little claws of rut remained turned his voice to gravel and his muscles to steel. Hands traveling up from her elbows to her knuckles to push down the hand and washcloth. She was already burrowed against him so he tucked her even closer that way neither of them had to look at his cock. Briar knew that there might have been more of him to look at than she expected.

”For the record. I’ve never not fit.” He tried to joke. Voice too rough and fingers too busy kneading her hips for it to be very funny. Mother Night, he was not ready. No matter how nice it felt for his spear to catch in the hollow of her hip. Chin resting on her head for a moment he pulled himself together enough to keep from pinning her to the wall for licking. ”This shower is really tight though.”

He called in the bar of soap he carried in his cabinet. A pale wedge with a subtle scent reminiscent of fir trees and ice water. No space to step back so he worked it into a lather, careful not to splash bubbles into her eyes. He used the same soap for his hair and body. Starting at the top and scrubbing the grit away. Face grazing her breasts, navel and thigh as he bent to reach lower. All the way down to his feet. Ass practically sticking out of the shower when he got down to his calves. He touched her more purposefully on the way back up. Fingers brushing the same places his cheek and nose had. ”All done?” He could do this. Plan formulating in his head Briar clung to his resolve. He could satisfy her without making himself look stupid. Just one step at a time.

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Recent Topics

The oblivious by Briar
[Today at 01:49:48 AM]

Footsteps in the Sand by Isidore Nazaire
[Today at 01:07:54 AM]

In Between Sunlight by Ephram O'Hannon
[Yesterday at 10:56:19 PM]

Steward! Oh Steward! by Vigot Thidrandisson
[Yesterday at 09:39:08 PM]

This Guy by dergon
[Yesterday at 07:41:40 PM]


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