Six feet under [cw]

Description:  cw: sex 

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Six feet under [cw]
« on: April 19, 2019, 06:27:52 PM »

Eulalie’s chair rocked. Feet catching in the grooves between the smooth planks of wood that made up the floor. Movement too swift as she stood, the backs of her knees tipping it nearly backward. It scraped and cracked against the ground as it settled.

Her heart felt like that chair. Quiet, complacent. Forgotten really, until something or someone made it wake. A sudden jump. Quaking and thundering in her chest. Gall that it was Isidore who made her pulse leap. A part of her hoping he would never return. She forgot about him sometimes, but there was always the same upset when she remembered. Her cousin. Greatest enemy and keenest blade.

He knew too many secrets.

”Where have you been?” She accused, voice rising as the room sealed itself around them. Eulalie had never found that sort of nothingness when reaching for him across the abyss. Sometimes he was too far to reach, but this time had felt different from that. Frighteningly different. Like he might not actually come back. Her fingers left prints behind on her desk. Whorls fading as the oils from her skin evaporated from the wood. Hair rushing forward over her shoulders as she swept around the desk.

”I didn’t send you raiding, and no one could tell me where you had gone.” Jaw too tense. She could feel her teeth fitting together. She had sent people to his estate to question his overseer. Eulalie had almost been tempted to go herself. Or try his wives. But that would have stirred more rumors than sending her Second to ask casual questions. Arms stiff at her sides, Eulalie faced him with her desk at her back, eyes searching for wounds. Careful probes searching for betrayal.

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #1 on: April 19, 2019, 10:27:36 PM »
Chair squealing in dismay at her handling Isidore watched his cousin practically jump from he seat. The sound and her reaction to his arrival sent his nerves into alertness. Made him slink probes as near her as he dared. Trying to suss out her mood. Thumb tracing his jawline he studied her face too, looking for clues that might tell if there was emotion hiding beneath the mask of anger she wore. It was not like Eulalie to look caught off guard by his visits. Even when he dropped in unexpectedly.

Excuse me?” He sassed back at her, Craft flicking the door shut behind his back. Why he expected anything warmer in greeting he didn’t know. It reminded him of why he had gone in the first place. The feelings he wanted to numb. Was she mad that he left, or that he came back? They all made it so hard to tell. And the difference would break him into pieces so he wasn’t in a hurry to ask.

As her shields cut the off from the rest of the world he padded over to a chair. Slumping into it without taking his eyes off of Eulie. The Winds had drained a heavy portion of his reserves. Rushing to get home. To this. That glint in her eyes. Darkness why’d they have to be set over such a pretty mouth? Or set in that glower at him? Lifting an ankle to rest on his knee Isidore sighed loudly at her whining.

Not sure if he should be flattered or annoyed. ”No kiss for your favorite cousin’s return then?” He crooned. Settling deeper into the chair as his body reminded him that he had been fasting for several days. Intentional or not. He was well rested, and well fed once he woke. But he was tired on the inside. Jewel depth disturbed by the mistreatment. And he had come home to absolute insanity. ”I was visiting a friend. Apparently I needed a break.” He told her after a moment. Eyeing her back with a weary, and wary, smirk.

”Why? Where you worried? Did I miss something exciting?” He doubted it. Paon was the most boring place he had ever been.

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #2 on: April 20, 2019, 07:55:10 AM »

If she had been a different woman, or raised to embrace both her castes, Eulalie might have bared her teeth at him. Shown him every sharp white point, or blunt tip. Expressed the feral frustration that rose up in her. Instead the lines of her body and the muscles of her face smoothed themselves into disappointment. That he would he so disrespectful to a priestess. And as much as her palm itched to smack her face and her nails to claw his skin, Eulalie did not touch him.

Her fingers curled, knuckles fitting into her palms as he made himself comfortable in a chair reserved for visitors. Invite visitors who had been invited to sit. Eulalie raised an eyebrow at his utter lack of propriety. He could have pretended at the very least.  ”Not when he was not supposed to he away, no.” If Isidore was not going to attempt the game, neither was Eulalie. There would be no feigned pleasure or closeness. He was hardly her favorite anything at the moment.

”On the mainland?” Eulalie’s disgust was apparent. The place was full of nothing good, not when it came to the people. The men brought home women for breeding and Eulalie allowed it to keep their blood from stagnating, as all the Mother’s had before her. But she did not like it. These foreign women with their strange ideas. At least the slaves knew their place and kept their silence.

”Nothing of consequence.” Eulalie dismissed his question, and ignored the others. It would only feed his ego, which was bloated already. ”I could not reach you.” Her fingers flicked from her side, as if she were about to spin a thread between them. Eulalie couldn’t even remember what she had needed him for now. Something. ”What did you need a break from anyway?” His life was a series of excursions into self pleasure. Hardly a tiring existence.

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #3 on: April 22, 2019, 12:23:25 AM »
By now the stern mask of unhappiness Eulalie gave him was so familiar Isidore found it settling rather than un. He was in a strange sort of mood. Physically restless from sleeping overlong. Mentally frazzled by the experience. And probably from the drugs too. In any quiet moment since he found he could close his eyes and will a sort of tingling buzz into his limbs. As if the potency of the compound was filtered by his Jewel but still there. Waiting for him to tap into it. Eyes drifting low in a slow blink he reached for it now. The overall sensation dulled by the mingling excitement and anxiety of being so near Eulalie.

Greatest treasure and deepest torment both. The beautiful bitch.

”Supposed?” He challenged softly, eyebrows lifting. That was a new line of control for Eulalie to try extending over him. Was she feeling lonesome? Had she been afraid to lose him, or for him to be lost? The questions and implications swelled up in his mind like high tide. Leaving him to wish for the millionth time that he could see into her barriers as easily as he did countless others.

Leaning back more comfortably he sighed at the tone she took. ”Yes. The mainland. I run a business, Eulie… I have to maintain connections if you want to be rid of useless slaves for a profit.” There had been other methods in Paon’s history. Beaches run red with the unnecessary. But the fishermen had complained of the sharks such violence brought to shore. And selling them was good money. The various estates of the Nazaire family proved as much. Though their generous donations were logged for posterity in the annals of the Temple’s treasury.

Propping an elbow on the arm of the chair Isidore rested his chin on the backs of his fingers. Which rubbed back and forth along the dark shadow of stubble which had grown while he slept. Eyes lowering he listened to her sidestep his questions. He could think of at least one interesting thing that had happened. Perhaps his Priestess did not yet know. Then he would pretend not to either. Give the mother and child some time undisturbed. Eulalie’s twitch brought him back from the thought. Her words more affirmation of her worry than he had expected to receive. ”I was unwell and overused my Jewels.” He explained. Glad that he had not been awake or aware of being severed from his power and consciousness.

”I needed a break from Paon. You, of all people, should understand. That’s what your little trip out of town was all about, yes?” He reminded her with a questioning smirk. The events at the Keep still a strangely fond memory despite his absolute disappointment with how they had unfolded. Or failed to unfold. ”Paon and the damn ungrateful women on it. My friends is…” Isidore didn’t have a word quite suited to describe Charis. So he let his thoughts warm his expression and stir his spear to semi-hardness instead. He was going to find her a longer strand of pearls. Fatter ones. ”Anyway. As soon as I woke up this morning well enough to travel I came back. I haven’t even been home yet. I felt your thread’s shadow and wanted to make sure everything was alright.” There had been a wild fear he would return to find the islands burning or his properties leveled in a fit of faux-Black rage. But all was well. So he was here. Smirking up at the holder of his rotten little heart with one eyes shut and knuckles rasping on his chin hairs.

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #4 on: April 22, 2019, 05:54:26 AM »

”Supposed.” Eulalie repeated staunchly. It had been easier to look away and pretend she did not notice his little sojourns to the mainland before. Trips he took alone, not for raiding, but for personal pleasure. But finding him unreachable had made Eulalie reevaluate. As her raider captain he was meant to lead her men. To be their beacon of behavior. And Eulalie would never be able to tolerate another acting the way Isidore. She could barely stand it in Isidore.

”Or your men could bring home less useless chattel.” She pointed out, offended by the way he lazed in his chair. Annoyed, she wrapped a coil of her Red around his ankle and yanked it from his knee. ”Every slave brought to our shores and then off again is an unnecessary risk.” She could not have the world waking to Paon until she was ready. And Eulalie was not yet ready. Isidore went from propped ankles to propped elbows, forcing Eulalie’s eyes to narrow at his insolence. ”As is every unnecessary trip.”

And Eulalie very much doubted the validating of his claims to business. Not when he said he needed away for a break.

”How perfect. And so far from home as well.” Dark eyes gleaming, Eulalie battered his lazy arm from the chair too. ”Pretend at respect at least, if you’re going to act the fool.” She hissed. Eulalie forced her hands to loosen from the fists they had curled into, raking a hand through her hair in frustration. ”I went for knowledge. Not to play.” She dismissed his accusation and his needs with a wave of her hand. Eyes rolling violently as he sought to deride the women of the islands and express pleasure over whatever tart he’d picked up on the mainland.

”Yes, I’m sure she buys many slaves.” Silver tongued fuck. His wits were completely addled by debauchery, Eulalie decided. She had given him too loose a lead and allowed too much. The mainland was doing to Isidore what it had done to itself, perverting and ruining him. Eulalie eyed him with a measure of pity, while trying to concoct a reason to keep him home while still sending out raids. And Isidore looked at her with one eye shut like a slovenly beggar.

”And if they had not been you would have been too late anyway. A day too late at the least.” Eulalie turned away and walked back behind her desk. Hands spreading across her paperwork, Eulalie turned a solemn look on him. It was the same face she turned on unfit priestesses and giggle apprentices. ”You understand, do you not? That while you played whore to our enemies, the islands could have been sunk beneath the sea and you were unreachable.” Her eyebrow rose like a dark wing over her left eye.

”Unwell, insensible and weak on the mainland.” How weak was he still, she wondered? Weak enough to be rid of? Standing, Eulalie gathered her paperwork up into a tidy pile and then vanished it, eyes cast sadly upon her desk. The papers were important. Everything else could be replace. Hands to the edge, Eulalie used her Ebon-grey as the power behind them to launch her desk as her cousin.

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #5 on: April 22, 2019, 06:14:46 PM »
It was a cruel twist that Isidore recognized the illness in his own mentality. Saw the sick glee his heart took in embracing her cruelty for what it was-  A conditioned reaction. So hungry for her attention he didn’t care that she gave it in snarls and looks of disgust. There was nothing he could do to help it; To help himself. Oh he wanted to hate. To hate her. To hate the islands and the people. But it wasn’t in his heart. Trained or inherent, he didn’t know anymore. They were his. She was his. So he ran with it instead. Smiling at the unwavering annoyance in her glare. Position shifting as she teased his legs with Craft, but becoming no less cavalier for her efforts.

”This is why I’m the raider captain and you’re the priestess.” He tisked, as if she had made some glaring mistake. Indeed, he saw several in her line of scolding. Tipping his face towards her he tapped the toes of his boots against the floor restlessly since she had forced them down. ”We leave none behind. I don’t know how your other captains behave, but I represent The Mother Priestess and Thure. Everyone comes. So that there is nobody left to say what happened. Then we sort them- in my harbor, on the docks, without their ever knowing where they are. Or who we are. Every single one of my men is drilled to watch his words, and if he mispeaks he and any profit slave in hearing distance, dies.” Isidore made a lot of mistakes in his personal life. Perhaps it was because all of his real effort went into his work. He didn’t bother answering her subtle challenge. She was not going to chain him home like one of her balless fucks. He was a free man, he would go where he pleased when it pleased him to do so.

With a growl Isidore sat up in the chair. Nostrils widening in annoyance. He didn’t have the control for her prodding today. All her attitude and shoving unraveling the only leash he had- the one he held. A very thin shell indeed. ”Maybe it doesn’t feel like home anymore,” He threatened mildly. ”and I wanted to convalesce someplace peaceful.” If he were ever actually ill he wouldn’t be able to stay home anyway. Not where Eulalie could sweep in and execute him on a whim. ”Bullshit. You went to be nosy. And to snuggle up with Vrai where no one could see. You just happened to pick up a few notes while you were there.”

Their eyes flashed at one another. Tempers both rising. He could feel it pulsing in the air. If he had not known better he would have believed their relation a real thing. She had always been his polar opposite, the fletching on his arrows. Trying to make him shoot straight, as long as she was the one pointing the bow. But today Isidore was raw. Scraped clean by the entitlement and unfairness of the ones he wanted to hold dearest. It was not as enamoring to look in her dark eyes and see the pits of Hell she wished to throw him in. ”No. She doesn’t buy slaves. But she can fit my dick down her throat from tip to root. And never asks for anything from me.”

”I might even have felt guilty,” He said mockingly. Watching her round the desk as he slumped back into the chair again. Fingers digging into the corner of one eye while she railed him further. Why had he punished himself with a second of anxiety? Time wasted clearly since he had to hear it all over again from lips more suited to sweeter jobs. Or so he entertained himself with daydreaming about. Smirking inappropriately while she spoke of his absence as if it had caused her some mighty dilemma.

Yet. Here she was. With a surge of power rising from the Abyss, trying to lay him down forever. Hand twitching to call the Craft Isidore imploded the desk midair. And every chair in the room. Innumerable splinters embedding from floor to ceiling. Not a single shard thicker than his fingernail or longer than two inches. His ass leaving the seat he had been lounging in just as it burst into shrapnel. One shield blooming up through the floor to protect himself, and Eulalie, from the deadly bullets.

Now he was angry.

You little bitch.” He growled, already two steps from her throat as the last of the wood slivers impaled themselves in the walls and floor. "I don't have the patience for this today, do you understand me?" The noise of the explosion was immense, reverberating off Eulalie’s sound shields until it were deafening. But his voice was deep and gritty with disappointment. Why? Why did they all have to hate him for being what they made him? Where was the reward for the suffering? He tried to catch her by the neck and waist both. To keep her close enough to hear every word. It was not a fight. He loved her too much for that. Physically shaking with the effort not to snap her in two Isidore hissed into her right ear. ”If Mother Night had wanted me dead at your hands she would have given you the power. Instead she set us as equals. You imagine me as your enemy, instead of your partner. What benefit does killing me give you? Hmm? How are you better off without me?" He didn't give her time to answer, "You're not. None of you are. This shit, exactly this, is why I would rather be a thousand miles away than in my own damn home.”

He wanted to slap her so badly it made the blood pound in his head. Eyes almost blind with the dizzying rush of adrenaline. And the fear in his chest that he might really hurt her if didn't get a grip on the emotions boiling up over his barriers. So he spoke about what he wished instead of doing it. ”I ought to put you over my damn knee. I should have given the whole lot of you a good ass whipping. Maybe then I’d have ten minutes of peace instead of women crying every time I take a fucking breath.” He still might. Go around in a big loop and slap them raw. Or not. Isidore wanted to crush her against him and stick his tongue in her ear just as badly as he wanted to hear his hand smack against her bare ass.

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #6 on: April 22, 2019, 07:53:55 PM »

Isidore leaned in. He always did. When other men flinched or cowered, Isidore leaned in. Like he wanted the pain, craved the punishment. He didn’t enjoy her words or her scoldings. He fought and bucked her at every turn. When they forgot to play the game, they fought. But he always leaned in. Sultry eyes and smirking lips turned toward her. All of Isidore’s attention belonged to Eulalie.

As it should.

”I appreciate your effort.” So many. Were there whole villages missing in the wide world? Swept up and taken away by her raiders? The very idea made Eulalie gleeful. This was a part of her power. And one day all of the mainland would know it. And fear it. ”But it is still too many.” It was. But it wasn’t. Either way Eulalie could not praise him more than she had. She did not want to lift him up. She wanted him to regret going where she could not reach him.

”Oh it does not? Would you like to he wiped clean and set adrift like the others?” Eulalie raged. Didn’t he know that he belonged to them? To her. This was his place. But if he wanted to open himself up she would gut his psyche and turn him loose. It would be easier than killing him. Scoffing, Eulalie licked the smirk from her lips. Warmth pooled in her stomach. She didn’t need to leave Paon to nestle close to her closest friend. ”There are plenty of doors here for that.” She informed him, pointing to the one they were currently locked behind.

Rooms and room to lean in close. To run her hands through his hair or discover the hard planes of his body. Rooms like the one. The air static from temper rather than desire. It made Eulalie just as tense. Breathing just as ragged. Lips parting over her teeth in a facsimile of a smile. ”I’m so delighted for you!” Never satisfied. Two wives and who knew how many women. She hoped they all turned on him, just as Salome had.

”Doubtful.” It wasn’t in him, to care for what didn’t effect him. What did it matter to him if Eulalie worried? He would find freedom if all the islands vanished, and a dozen women to bury any loneliness in. Since he was already angry, and Eulalie had committed to the act before even dreaming it, she dug her fingers deeper into any opening she cod find. Like salting a wound. ”You’ve little enough to come home to anyway, if rumors are true.” Down a wife already. Disappointing. Eulalie had picked the little bitch just for him.

Hate like power in her veins, or honey on her tongue, Eulalie flipped the table at him. Power following it. Giving it momentum. Striking like the ferocious green serpents of the jungle at Isidore himself. All of it turned away by his shields. Table and chairs turning into a storm of wooden splinters. Eulalie flinched away, but she too was shielded. Protected from the destruction he rained down on her office.

”Bastard!” She bit back. Eulalie held every muscle still. Back straight and jaw tight as Isidore charged her, room coming to ruin around them. The noise lifted her hair and reverberated up her body from her feet. Several paintings clattered to the floor, only to be shredded by pieces of chair and table. ”You’ll have patience for whatever I like.” She growled back, eyes locked with his. If she could not kill, Eulalie had to best him another way, because if he won, if he won she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Cheek to cheek. Eulalie breathed deep into her stomach. Steadied her breathing with a conscious effort as she sought to center herself. She didn’t fight him. Let his fingers circle her throat and his arm encase her waist. Felt his stubble rasp against the warm skin of her face as he whispered in her ear. The same shit he always spouted when she tried to rid herself of him. He wanted so badly to be with her. Partners. Lovers. But he never fucking listened or did what he was told. Eulalie already had a partner, and Isidore was not he.

”Never.” She whispered back. Eulalie cupped the back of his neck, stroking place where his spine began, her snake tooth sliding free of its sheathe and along his skin. Their embrace was a mockery of intimacy. Flush together, Eulalie could feel his every breath pressing her breasts against her ribs. Knew his hips were just a twist away from hers. But all she wanted to do was hurt him. For frightening her. Worrying her. Fighting her at every damn step. His very existence enraged her because no matter how often or by what means he proved his loyalty, he always did something else that made her doubt.

”Maybe if you weren’t such a cunt, they’d be happier to see you.” Grabbing his hair in her hand, Eulalie yanked, lashing at him with her craft again, and trying to drive him to his knees. ”You forget, prince, that whippings are my purview. Not yours.”

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #7 on: April 23, 2019, 02:20:43 AM »
Eyes rolling in his head Isidore swallowed a snort. Eulalie appreciated nothing. At least nothing of, from, or pertaining to him. Least of all the insurmountable effort it took to be her cousin, secret keeper, and raider captain. The toll it took on him emotionally didn’t matter a lick to the priestess. How it affected his personal relationships? None of her concern. What murdering people he would rather take under his wing felt like was never a thought in her mind. ”Too many? Very well. I’ll be more mindful.” He seethed, teeth flashing under his lip. If she thought it too many then he would sell them before they came back from the raids. Then they wouldn’t be on her damn records, and would not increase the amount of tithes he owed her.

”I dare you to try.” Isidore said sleepily. Turning a stiff jawed expression her way. He said no more on the matter. Or any of the rest that followed. She was trying to pick a fight. To needle him. To make him feel guilty for needing relief that he wouldn’t need in the first place if she didn’t try to control every aspect of his life. From the money he made to the women he bedded. She wanted involved in all of it without him involving himself with her. The greedy hypocrite.

She was not going to get her fight, though. Not even after attempting his murder. Again. He couldn’t even pretend at being surprised. Just annoyed, tired of her attitude, and flattered by the passion in her violence. Ever the clever girl she stood like a finely carved statue. Unblinking and barely breathing as he brought them flush. Trying her very best to mouth off without further inciting his rage. Tongue heavy in his mouth Isidore growled back wordlessly for a moment. ”You don’t know what you like. You’re too self involved and chicken shit to find out.” He whispered when his teeth were capable of unclenching.

Thumb stroking he breathed her in. Could smell the pineapple she had eaten with her lunch. And the salt in her hair from a swim in the cool morning air. All the people that touched and were touched clinging to her skin. The usual subtle notes of her First stronger than he expected. Fucking Vrai. Had they been mooning at one another again? Or was the sharp scent of his competition made keener by his anger? An anger she reflected back at him tenfold. Deeper. Purer. Realer than his own could ever be.

Head lowering to welcome her stroke he rested his lips on her shoulder. She pet at him with the promise of death a mere scratch away. Poisoned fang rasping at his skin. It sent a thrill up his spine that radiated out from the place the danger brushed. Voice croaking he laughed, ”Do it then. Let my mother and Salome fight over the fortune. I’ve left it to Tariq, it’ll be a glorious fight.” Or so he suspected. After the pain of having his blood boiled from the inside was over, Isidore was sure the Darkness would embrace him like an old friend. Couldn’t be worse than what he went through day to day.

”No one’s supposed to be happy to see me; Warlord Princes are violence personified, remember?” Isidore complained. Breath turning to a gasp as she grabbed him by the hair. Head bending to keep it from pulling straight out of his scalp. His spear stirred against his leg and he smiled while he complained more. ”How can they love me if they can only have a fraction of me? I’ve too many secrets, and Salome is too greedy to share. But you knew that already. You picked her…” And he had agreed. Like a damn fool.

Growling he let her shove him down. Knees on the floor by her feet. Grip slipping down her body. Throat and waist to the backs of her thighs. Face rested on her skirt, cheekbone to hipbone. He clutched harder at her supple curves. Mouth opening against the thin fabric she wore to let out a hearty laugh. He wanted to bite her until she squealed. But he looked up at her instead. Nose wrinkling in stubborn amusement. ”If that’s what you wanted all you had to do was ask.” memories of the first, last, and only time she had raised the whip against him brought his spear to full hardness. A throbbing sort of ache that came with the same pleasant reaction to pressure as a loose tooth. His pants rubbed at the spot and his fingers rubbed at Eulalie.

”Get your whip.”

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #8 on: April 23, 2019, 06:33:53 AM »

Theirs had been a training of separation. Isidore the younger cousin brought on occasion into her presence. But there had still been expectations. Eulalie had not missed them. Isidore was related. A warlord prince. Just as she had been paired with Vrai, they had tried to make a set of the cousins as well. But their mingling was not often enough to form attachment, and Isidore was no Vrai. But there is had been very good lessons mixed in. And plenty more since, now that she was the temple priestess and he was her captain.

If she showed a single ounce of the terror he incited, Eulalie was certain she would die. Maybe not that day, but eventually. Isidore would use and abuse until it was the only good option. Truly Mother Night had cursed her. So Eulalie covered her fear with bravado. Blanketed it with hatred to protect herself and keep him from ever noticing. ”I know exactly what I like.” She corrected, turning her face into his so that her lips brushed his hair. ”It just isn’t you.” She kissed his temple on that promise, soft distractions to keep him from strangling her for her words.

But Isidore stroked her. Thumbs caressing while he shifted from rage induced whispering to sniffing. Eulalie could feel his chest expanding, his shoulders rising. Feel his breath tickling her skin and making her dress damp with its humidity. She was still alive, so she raised one hand to threaten and tease in equal measure. ”Your bastard brother?” Eulalie snorted. ”What a waste.” Handsome and dark Jeweled, but weak willed, Eulalie thought. Not cut out to he a man, she thought he would have done better truly cut from it. But the choice had not been hers.

”You’re whining.” Eulalie chided, voice almost playful as she drove him down. He had to submit. The balance of power needed to be restored if things were to go back to what they had been. Isidore had to remember that Eulalie ruled. And that he was hers to do with as she saw fit. Even if sometimes those things hurt. Like now. Yes, and he had to remember too, that he loved her. They were family. ”Shhh. I thought you’d like her.” There were only so many fitting, marriageable girls stupid enough to marry her cousin.

Eulalie pet the place she had pulled, ignoring the trail left by his hands. The possessive, comfortable way he gripped her thighs and pressed his face to her hip. He was just as greedy as his wife. It made Eulalie smile, hand sliding around his skull to fondle his ear much the same way one might pet a good hound. ”Oh Isidore.” Eulalie smiled in the face of his laughter. ”I never ask.” Her word was law. Eulalie tugged his ear and twisted away from him.

”Take off your shirt.” She mimicked. No need to leave to the armory, Eulalie called in a short whip. Its braided handle nearly the same length as her forearm. The thong was that length again, and knotted. Chewing her lower lip, Eulalie circled him, letting the tip of the whip drag the ground as she walked. Behind him, she drew it slowly up from the floor and alone his spine, bits of shattered table catching in the popper. She watched the way his skin flinched at the contact, shoulders tensing as he waited for that first lash.

They said it was the worst. Sometimes there wasn’t even a whistle to warn you. Today there was. Air cut as she stepped back and struck him. Watching the welts blossom across his skin. Again and again, until his back was spotted by them, and her arm grew tired from the strain.

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #9 on: April 24, 2019, 02:50:52 AM »
”You have to experience things to know if you like them.” He argued. Face tipping to take her kiss. Fingers as agitated as his spirit. Riding the edge of adrenaline she roused in his veins. Stupid brilliant gorgeous bitch. One day she would say the wrong thing to the wrong man and die. Probably at his hands. He already hated himself for it. Idiot asshole warlord prince.

Sucking the flavor from his teeth Isidore nodded against her shoulder. Fingers till kneading at her mindlessly. ”That’s the one.” There was no point in getting offended. Tariq was a bastard. Only claimed because he had exceeded every expectation. Marking him more a brother to Isidore than their blood connection did. ”He will waste it too. Smoke it all probably or spend it teaching the slaves to read.” And Eulie would get not a penny. It was the perfect revenge really.

”I’ve earned the right.” He whined more. Grunting as his knees found their place on either side of her feet. Set so low against her body he wondered if she wanted him to bury his face in her cunt instead of her hip. But he had to let her feel victorious. Or she would be insufferable and twice as violent. One day, one day he would teach her a lesson about power. About the hierarchy of castes. For now it was enough to pull silently at her strings. Dominating her through submission. ”Well that’s the problem- I love her. But she wants more than I can give.” She wanted Eulalie’s secrets. Or for him not to have them. Things he couldn’t provide.

He didn’t blame Salome. He was a little greedy too. But he had learned not to ask, so that you didn’t have to be told lies. Or kept secrets from. She asked, then let it hurt when he couldn’t open up for her. Poor stupid girl. She had not been ready for a warlord prince. Or any man, really, she was a child in a woman’s body. He blamed her mother. And Eulalie, of course. ”If you had told me what you were planning I wouldn’t have this mess on my hands. Or an empty house.” He looked up at her, cheek turning to fit in the hollow of her pelvis. ”I didn’t need married in the first place. You just wanted a say in who I was sticking my spear in, didn’t you?” Deny it all she wanted, isidore was sure he saw the truth.

It amused him, her eagerness. Grinning at him now like a cat with a canary in its mouth. Petting at him with all the indifference she could muster. While he caught the scent of her pleasure rippling across her barriers. Last time she had needed prompting. And honey. This time she sassed him, relishing the power.

Pacing the movements to best display his body Isidore tugged his shirt up over his torso. Arms shrugged through one at a time. Warm skin flawlessly preserved by good healers and better ointments. Bared from roots to waist he leaned forward to grip his own thighs as she moved away. The room smelling of fear and leather as her toy was called in. ”You keep that in there just for me, love?” He teased. Muscles drawn together in anticipation as she circled him like a shark in the water. Lip sucked and eyes closed he focused on the sound the whip made over the floor. Skin prickling to gooseflesh at it’s cool touch.

”Come on,” He tempted under his breath. Gasping at the first strike. Back spasming and spear pounding. It was so good. The sound it made. The burn it left over his back. Another and another driving him forward until he was caught between gasps and groans. Pain blistering with every fresh welt. Dulling again into a bone deep ache that made him wish he had some place tight and wet to shove his spear. ”Eulie…” Moaned when she stopped. Sweat clung to his skin. He looked at her over his shoulder. Breathing hard with the exertion of taking the lash. ”Need a pick-me-up? I’ve more honey. And stronger things.” He goaded. The heel of his hand dragging over the spot on his thigh where the head of his spear was throbbing.

He sat up slightly. Wincing at the sting down his spine but smiling all the same. ”Or would you rather I give you a lashing back?” In a vulgar display he flicked his tongue at her. The wild mood he had entered the room in only heightened by the play that came after.

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #10 on: April 24, 2019, 04:21:32 AM »

”How unfortunate.” Eulalie crooned, trying not to laugh. It wouldn’t do to mock the marriage she had arranged after all. It still amused her. Poor Isidore, so very in love with his wife who wanted more but had run to a whole other island to escape him. It was ridiculous. And a little shocking. That the girl had done it, and that Isidore was in love with her. ”That’s not fair. Telling you would have ruined the surprise.” Admittedly, her good will gesture had done very little of what it had been intended to accomplish.

”None of that.” Pinching the lobe in her fingers, Eulalie gave his ear a tug. ”I was hoping it would ground you. And for more cousins.” Children to hold his estate when he was dead. Or as hostages if she needed them. Eulalie saw now that he needed something more tangible to hold him to the islands. To bind his loyalty completely. He really had been spending too much time on the mainland. It was corrupting him.

A lashing would help drive some of that out. She could not flay his skin open like a eunuch, but Eulalie was confident in her abilities to help purge his soul. Mother Night knew he needed it. Even Isidore knew. Not a whisper of argument as he stripped his shirt from his body. Eagerly leaning forward to grip his own thighs. There were no posts here for him to cling to. He would have to hold himself upright for the lashing.

”You’re hardly the only sinner on Paon, Isidore. Simply the biggest.” Eulalie examined him as she circled, whip dragging, finger worrying a small imperfection in the leather. He was beautiful in that primal way of men. Certainly his face was handsome, but as a whole, it was beauty. All that barely contained violence and aching desperation to love. Poor Isidore. Eulalie had no need to wonder why he was so easily tempted by the outside world. But he needed broken of it.

So she whipped him. A beating, the unschooled might call it. But Eulalie knew there was more than punishment behind the pain. Isidore did too. Eulalie could practically taste the pleasure he took in it. Arousal was not the reaction of most. The purpose being redemption and not pleasure. So Eulalie struck him harder and reached out for that cool, dark place Mother Night resided, so that she might be there with them, and remind Isidore of his true calling. Serving Paon.

Not himself.

She swung until she thought she would drop either the whip or the shields that held everyone at bay. The muscles in her arm trembled, and there was an ache in her shoulder. Eulalie let the whip dangle at her side, eyes following a bead of sweat down Isidore’s back. Its path dictated by raised, red skin, until it vanished into the waistband of his pants. Just to the right of his left hip. Slowly she looked up at him and frowned. ”I thought I told you to quit bringing drugs onto my islands?” The Darkness fled, retreating from the edges of Eulalie’s vision.

Mayhap he would never learned. Breathing deep into her stomach, Eulalie tried to uncoil the knot that had wedged itself there. At that moment she could not name what she felt. Or explain the experience of lashing her cousin. It was a complicated mixed of emotions, overlain by his own lust, which permeated the air. Eulalie did not have the desire, just then, to pick it apart and examine it. Or herself. Reaching out, she tapped him beneath the chin with the tapered end of the whip.

”No.” Yes. She had always recognized the danger of his mouth. And it had been a very long time since anyone had buried their face between her thighs. Riding Vrai’s fingers to climax was earth shattering and soul soothing, but still not the same as being driven to release by a clever tongue. And Eulalie did not doubt that Isidore’s tongue was very clever indeed. ”Come here.” She bid, digging the whip into the soft flesh beneath his chin and tugging. Eyes watching for more flinching.

Once he was on his feet, she vanished the whip back into her cabinet. Eulalie did not trust him with it. The desk had proven that his reflexes and abilities were still too keen, whatever illness he had suffered. ”There is something you can do for me.” She promised him, letting him come as close as he liked. Tipping her lips toward his ear, Eulalie smirked and whispered to him. ”You can get me a new desk and chairs.” The arrogant shit.

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #11 on: April 25, 2019, 02:13:17 AM »
”A lot of people tell me a lot of things I don’t listen to. Be glad of it.” Who knew what he would be if they had trained all of the love out of him? Or his mother had ridden her brand of desire into his soul? Would Isidore still be Isidore if he didn’t tame his temper with foreign honey and potent cannabis? Sweat collecting along his hairline he looked up at her with a flash of teeth. ”Do you really want to see me off of them, Eulie? I dare say I’d be ten times more miserable. And much less kind.”

He had learned his lesson about sharing them. That would have to be enough. If she made him choose, Paon just might lose.

From his spot on the floor Isidore watched her try to calm her arousal. And wondered if she labeled it as such. He could smell it. That unearthly something on the body of a woman when she wanted a good fuck. Not the wetness of her cunt, or the sweetness of sweat. This was different. Nameless. A tension they carried in places no man could actually reach. The place that their fears and ecstasy were pulled up from when you licked them fast and fingered them slow. Or so he amused himself with assuming.

Isidore knew, no matter how she fashioned it for herself. He saw her eyes on his body. Saw too the shift of her feet as she turned away from inner thoughts to stay in the moment with him. Good girl. Better not to let her frighten herself with over analyzing what didn’t need to be overthought. ”Why not?” He asked. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat because of the angle she tilted his chin at. He leaned into the pressure of the knob. Running his jaw along it like a cat. ”You can pull my hair and call me any name you like. If you can find the breath to talk at all.”

She pressed her whip harder as she called him closer. Hand meeting hers on the worn leather he pulled. Using it to lift his weight, but also to bring her to him as he stood. When she didn’t warn him off or slip away he set his hold on her waist. A hip for each palm. Spear brushing her skirts. Looking for a place to lean against. Her teasing exciting and infuriating all in the same breath. Fingertips twitching he nuzzled her shoulder. Savoring the whisper of her breath over his ear. Snorting at her arrogance. Maybe he wouldn’t let her go this time. He could wear her down, he thought. If he was careful. Paced himself just right. ”It was time, anyway, your chairs were getting lumpy.” He accused.

Mother Night damn him it wasn’t fair. That smell along her throat. ”It’s going to count as a birthday present though.” He whispered. Testing her limits in small steps. Lips brushing her shoulder. Then her neck. Nose to her ear lobe. Cheeks touching as he dipped towards the corner of her mouth. ”I’m so fucking hard now.”

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #12 on: April 25, 2019, 06:11:02 AM »

”I do.” She dug into his flesh, bouncing the end of the whip so that i vibrated down into Isidore’s flesh. ”You get plenty of time on the mainland.” Too much of it, her tone warned. Eulalie thought the opposite of Isidore’s threats might prove true. He would be more grounded and logic without his brain swimming in the shit he pickled it with. She did worry about his claims to misery. Especially when coupled with his threats to leave them all behind.

He wouldn’t, Eulalie decided, as she watched him stroke her whip like a lover. Cheek to braided leather. Where else could he have this? Only here on the islands. With her. ”Because, cousin, I have a priest just for such confessions.” Eulalie dug a little deeper, and Isidore leaned it. Had there been a blade, it surely would have pierced his throat and risen up into his mouth. Pinning his tongue to the roof of his mouth and silencing all his whining and complaints. The thought was a tantalizing one.

Hand covering hers, Isidore pulled her closer, his weight dragging her across the floor. Sawdust crept between the toes of her feet and her sandals, gathering in the creases of her toes while Isidore wrapped his fingers around her hips and began his slow invasion of her space. He did not crush himself to her or drag her flush to his body, but Eulalie could feel the hear radiating from him. Skirts shifting against her thighs as his spear stirred them from their place. And his damn mouth again at her shoulder.

”You should have gotten me better chairs to start with then.” Eulalie couldn’t remember where they had come from to begin with. The desk a remnant of her mentor, the chairs probably dragged up from the hoard in the storage rooms. Eulalie didn’t know where the chairs had come from, or where to put her hands. The hovered in loose fists just outside of Isidore’s own hip kneading hands. She wished she still had the whip at hand so she could bludgeon him off with it.

”What about winsol?” She did not want this. His damn mouth on her neck, the tendons standing out against the assault as her whole body grew tense. Knuckles paling as he nosed her ear. Nipples growing harder the closer he came to her mouth. Eulalie felt her lips part in anticipation, a small hiss sliding between her teeth as he spoke of his spear. She remembered grinding against it in frustration. Limp and useless in his trousers.

Trembling, Eulalie let her face slide away from his. She focused her eyes on the door. Stared through it to the two backs she could imagine standing at either side. One taller. Hair longer. The other a perfect shadow. Breathing deep, Eulalie fanned her fingers across her stomach, mind racing for a solution. It clicked as her tongue snapped against her bottom teeth and then circled her lips. ”Take the queen. She is free this afternoon and I’ve a new piece to show you in the west bed chamber.”

Dug up from a dark and long forgotten corner and reassembled. A beautiful four poster bed with mirrors instead of a canopy. Plus the west bedroom had a very lucrative spy hole.

Isidore Nazaire

    Sapphire to Ebon-gray
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    Raider Captain
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    142 Posts    2367 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #13 on: April 26, 2019, 05:05:16 PM »
Dark irises flashing under narrowed lids Isidore searched Eulalie’s face for understanding. And found none. No compassion or sympathy, or even pity. Just the same steely mask she always wore. At least when dealing with him. ”That’s a lot to ask of a person. So you’re going to have to ask. And the consequences are going to be on you.” He told her softly. If she wanted to see him without the small pleasure he sought in life… fine. He would suffer it. Would turn his blood molten in his veins and wretch his meals for a month. But he could tell it wasn’t something she wanted for his good. Or the good of Paon. She just wanted to see if he would, because she said to.

Always. Always testing his devotion. Not once had he failed her, even at the price of crushing his own soul. Yet. Still. She tried to kill him at every turn. Every show of vulnerability. Forced him to be defiant to keep from collapsing under the weight of his own life- then cited that defiance as his greatest flaw. Damn him straight to the voidholes of Hell he loved her anyway. Because if he were any other warlord prince all her fears would be righteous.

Jean?” Isidore laughed. ”Please. He’s not a lick better than me. Pun absolutely intended.” They were friends. Good friends even. So Isidore said such things with a measure of knowingness. If he were such a holy man he would be on the Islands with the rest of them. He made no effort to seek enlightenment. He was a raider, the same as the next. He just happened to be gifted with a caste that let him light candles in the most useful sort of order. ”How does Vrai feel about your confessionals? I can smell him on you now. Not breaking our poor little lambs heart are you? He’ll need all his wits if he’s going to talk Georgette into letting him father that baby.”

It was a spitefully chosen line of conversation. But she was being rather spiteful today. Why not give back an ounce? He was in the mood for a taste of conflict. Not a real fight. But a good verbal parre went so nicely with her leather love taps. They burned along his back like hot fingers. Quite reminiscent of the trails impassioned nails dragged across skin during lovemaking. Spear throbbing he met her in the center of the room. Quite near the spot her desk had once existed in. Skin tingling with her nearness and hair standing on end as if that too wanted closer.

”Only good little girls get Winsol gifts.” He muttered against her warm flesh. The taste of his own breath bouncing back at him. Hot and bitter. A familiar and dangerous flavor mixing with the salt left behind by her workout. He wondered if her arm was sore and almost without thought his right hand rose to massage from elbow to shoulder. ”Are you going to be good to me?” He could have slipped his tongue between the part that formed at the place their lips brushed. Eulie turning her cheek to his hunger the same as she always tried to do. But he had tasted her wetness on his fingertips in The Keep. And seen her eagerness when inhibition was stripped off by gentle elixirs. He let her pretend because she was likely to let him keep rubbing his hardness at her hip if he did.

Winsol. Try as he might to give into what he suspected was a false-rut Isidore pushed the thought away. What would his house be like for the holiday? It’s emptiness had never bothered him before. And it stung the edges of his lungs that it mattered now. Eulalie was not particularly clever, in his opinion. Well trained, smart enough, and deadly. It was the sheer amount of ways she tried to control him that gave her any success at all, however. He was good at forgiving her, but he didn’t know if he could when it came to Salome. They were two sides to a coin he wanted very much to keep, two sides both demanding to stay on top. And every flip just angered them more.

”No.” He growled, forcing himself half a step closer. Hands circling to spread across her back. Chin digging at the nook of her neck. As if he wanted her to hold him like a child. ”That’s not who I need.” As a raider Isidore had learned that sometimes the male body reacted to great surges of adrenaline in unexpected ways. That of the warlord prince especially. Passionate violence and violent passion. They were the same to his spear, and to his mind. Without the hormones to fuel the sensation it would not turn into a week of furious destruction or mad fucking in his rut house. But he was raw on the inside and hard on the outside all the same. The right petting could prove dangerous. ”I can’t be alone with her. Not today.”

She would send him home, he suspected. Fingertips pressing a hair harder in anticipation of being run off. To hold her all the closer all the longer. Dread bubbled up his chest. He wasn’t ready to go yet. There was nothing at home to tempt him. He would be dangerous to Jin-ae, and Tait’s easy conditioning had lost her a heavy margin of his interest. ”You put me on a queen and there won’t be anyone to get me off of it in time.” Isidore liked queens. They smelled and felt like Rightness when he dragged them to the cusp of pleasure. His own relief, however, could have far reaching consequences. ”Mother Night loves me. I pray every night for daughters, you know. And she hears me. That is last womb I want to go planting such a child in. I’m not that much my father’s son.” He had only been a baby when Tariq was born. Unaware of what had happened. But the shame had rippled through his father for years. Not even the boy’s dark Jewel could wash away the stain of his birth.

Eulalie Reneux

    Red to Ebon-gray
  • Black Widow Priestess
  • Played By: dergon

    Priestess Mother
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    112 Posts    107 marks
Re: Six feet under
« Reply #14 on: April 26, 2019, 10:09:17 PM »

”Of course.” She agreed, voice just as soft. ”Isn’t it always?” She expressed the sentiment with a surprising lack of bitterness. As the figurehead of the islands, Eulalie was the face of every hope. And every woe. She lived beneath the burden of her potential. And his. Every lapse, every failure. All reflected on Eulalie. Isidore fled to the mainland, or hid behind the drowsing pulse of drugs. She had no where to hide.

But she also did not possess the drive to do so.

”You would think that.” Eulalie sneered at his laughter. No one who knew approved. But few knew at all. It was a quiet thing without fanfare. Eulalie thought it fitting. He understood the way other males did not. Could not because their castes blinded them. ”Vrai?” She asked sweetly, her smile turning saccharine as Isidore did digging of his own. ”Vrai is quite content where he is at, I can assure you.” The promise was delivered with a flash of teeth and narrowed eyes.

They grew only narrower the closer Isidore come, until she watched him through slits. Eyes colorless pools beneath dark lashes. Body still as Isidore ran mouth and hands across it. Fingers caressing the aching muscles of her arm while he tried to lay lips on her. Not content to rock his spear into her hip. Always greedy and wanting more. More of her favors. More of her. It was never enough to be her captain, nearly her equal, her cousin. Eulalie thought he might burn her up with his possession one day.

And was terrified she might like it.

”Aren’t I always?” Never. Eulalie had heard the whispers about Isidore’s good girls. There were always whispers about her wretched cousin. She didn’t doubt most of them were true. He was clever in his craft, and a cunning predator. Its what made him such a very good captain. That and his sheer ruthlessness. Its why she had to honor and placate him. Offer him morsels not herself to fill his gaping need.

”Isidore!” Surprised, she stroked his back. He never turned a chance away to have a taste of his greatest weakness. The weakness of his caste. ”I should hope not.” He would be an even greater danger to her under the leash of a queen. Sighing, she let him cling, like he was a child afraid of the dark. Except he was a warlord prince afraid of a queen. Eulalie was glad he recognized their insidious danger. ”Very well.” Cerise would be spared.

Her knuckles brushed his spine. Up and down in the space between the muscles. A soothing rhythm while he tried to squeeze the life from her. Or press her into his body where he could simply consume her completely. Absorbed through his sweat damp skin. Eulalie softened toward him. A breath of openness before he started in with his threats. Eulalie snorted. ”You think I’d let any queen’s womb ripen on my island? Not even you could plant a fruitful seed in the fields I’ve sown barren.” Praying to Mother Night for daughters. Eulalie rolled her eyes.

”Come away.” She twisted free from him. Hips rolling away from his grasping fingers and pressing spear. ”There are plenty of other shallow vessels for you to vent your feelings into it.” She would send for a slave. There were plenty in the temple. Most of them replaceable. Lowering the sound shields, Eulalie dismissed her Hands before they even reached the door. Vrai wouldn’t like it, but Eulalie would make it up to him later. Him and herself, if he was willing and interested. She never was sure of his desires.

Or if he’d even possess any.

”Don’t forget your shirt.” She warned before leading him out into the hallway, and down to the western room. It faced the sea. High enough to see past the town below the temple. Just tree tops and blue sea outside itself window. A simple room, nearly bare except for the big bed with its carefully mended mirrors. ”See. I told you you’d like it.” She snickered, leaning against the open doorway.

 

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