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Post by Deft on Jan 25, 2008 20:12:46 GMT -5
It was his laughter that caught her throat- it was deep and rumbled, and more coaxing then even the purred silhouette of his voice- though the light brush of his skin wasn't hurting him either...
With ferocity she did not often use on such matters she fought coloring when her hand was kissed- dammit: she was not a formal lady of the courts anymore- why would anyone...? Flattering, but not something she was used to, to say the least...
"It's a shorthand, my lord." She laughed, her full lips shaking into a smile, "Devendra's the original: not something wear and tear enough for a ranger, if you follow. I got rid of it as soon as possible." Perhaps, if she had trusted him more, she would have continued- but she did not: people who complimented easily- and called her graceful, of all people- she was hesitant to speak with...
Dammit. Dammit! This was not- it was impossible that anyone could shatter her so, and it was not tangible that he was paying her attention- he did not have the look of a soldier, the only sort of person who would notice her in a bar, and most likely to converse about the make of the sword she was wielding.
As she spoke, her keenness about the Lord, Laird whisped himself from the fae, and felt a snarl ripple his perfect, elven face- he was suspicious (and naturally infuriated with any man who was better looking then he was)... But he turned again to the fae- regretting that he could not focus upon both conversations, and spoke,
"Well, we all once served in the same troop during battle: we often meet."
"Deft was the commander of our little battalion," the slightest of all the men (excluding the elf) spoke for the first time that evening: he had little to say in front of beautiful women- he was rather shy.
"I still have nightmares," added the crusty, dark haired one. "She trains hard."
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Post by Donax Tethanornal on Jan 26, 2008 8:41:06 GMT -5
“Devendra…” she seemed to thinking on the name, closing his eyes shortly. It would not do to not know her true name he thought as he committed it to memory. “Devendra is a beautiful name, but I must speak frankly… I believe Deft suits you more.” That she was a ranger wasn’t highly surprising, her clothes indicated to it, as did her weapon. In times past he had met very few Ranger females, the last had nearly cut of his heads, the hearts of such women were harder to chain than an average maiden. “Ah.. a Ranger! Such a noble profession you choose! It has always intrigued me so!”
One of his hands sat lightly on the table, barely a few inches from her. His perfectly smooth hands drumming on the wood. At a glance of his hands it would seem that the man had never worked a day in his life, or held a weapon of any kind, this was far from true but he always used the perceptions to his advantage. “My father tried desperately to make me learn the use of a weapon, bows and swords… I was useless with the both. Barely strong enough to hold a sword, he would scold me so and say I was an embarrassment.” A brief flash of hurt came to his eyes, before he intentionally lowered them from her gaze, he was not beyond trying to gain trust through pity.
“Unfortunately, the only thing these hands were good for was holding a brush.” He raised his head again to lock eyes with her once more. “I learnt to paint when I was very young, It gave me quite an eye for beauty.” She nodded gently in her direction, the gesture was barely noticeable but he doubted the ranger would miss it.
He did his best to ignore the frustrated Elf, Ekimmu wasn’t doing herself justice here. She could of entranced them within seconds if she tried. He would have to have a word with her when they were alone.
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Post by Deft on Jan 26, 2008 18:01:44 GMT -5
Dammit.
Her full lips pressed momentarily together, her throat caught with sympathy- she could relate to having parents who where disappointed... and dammit. He was an artist. She had always had an infinity for people whose professions where the opposite of hers- creation rather then destruction- and she followed the long-held ranger tradition of the love of poetry...
And then he nodded at her. Why the hell would he do that? She wasn't the type, she could never be pictured with the softness she saw in paintings in that sort of frozen light they all seemed to have- she was surely not the sort of beauty he was accustomed to: why was he talking to her? Dammit!
"I can relate to that, my Lord. My parents expected a lady- but I was always destined for the battlefield, I think." She gave a smile, but kept her drink away- she did not want to get too comfortable.
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Post by Donax Tethanornal on Jan 28, 2008 16:00:56 GMT -5
“Parents… They do so have the habit to try and force you into what is best for them. Not for you.” She spread his hands out in front of him again, subconsciously glancing towards the door when he felt his fangs extend a little. It had defiantly been too long in hiding, his body was rushing far ahead of his mind. By the time her turned back to face her, his face had softened fully again, his fang receded. Again leaving him with the perfectly human face, if not a little too perfect.
The waitress came from behind him; he measures the sounds of her footsteps until she was at his side and turned to face her as she paused. “Would you be so kind as to retrieve me a drink from the bar, Something sweet if you don’t mind?”
The waitress scuttled off silently, instantly captured by the look he had used on her, woman of that kind were easy to be spell and as such, were of no interest to him. “I hope you can forgive my forward attitude, it’s just not every day you bump into someone like yourself.” She smiled at her lightly, showing his teeth.
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Post by Deft on Jan 28, 2008 21:41:31 GMT -5
A soft thud of warning pressed upon her mind as he smiled with his blinding white teeth- she could not think why... There was just something lethal about it- his smile. Something deadly.
A new fringe of nerves prickling her thoughts, she returned the smile- if he was dangerous, then best to not let him know- in fact, for safety reasons, she might be a little more friendly with him... but no reason to worry. Not yet- he seemed so likable, and his voice was so curling and dark-
But that's what made him dangerous.
"There is nothing to forgive," she told him, but she avoided coloring with her knew found cautiousness, "It's just... unusual. For me. I am not someone who is noticed unless they make a point for it when I'm not in battle."
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Post by Aladrian Tlachtga on Jan 30, 2008 8:33:59 GMT -5
Ekimmu was half considering fleeing the Tavern. She tended to avoid staying in Donax’s company too long. Strangely enough, years of abuse, blackmail and control had made her despise the old Vampire. If he wasn’t so d**ned strong and fast, and if it wasn’t for Ralak she would of tried to kill him with her fire in her sleep. She laughed to herself at the thought of that, it probably wouldn’t even work.
“I had a leader like that, He was a right nightmare when it came to training.” She sighed laughing lightly, hoping the comment might anger Donax a bit, give him away. As much as she loathed the Ranger, she was HER enemy. And Ekimmu didn’t share.
“Hours on end he’d have us practising formations and things like that, I’m sure half of it was just for him own amusement as well!”
Ekimmu was still laughing slightly; Donax however was distracting The Elf from her. When would the vampire learn to not go after rangers, especially when they had a mini army in tow? She felt like giving the man a punch in the face, but it wouldn’t do any good ad he would surely repay her the favour, and if not her, Ralak. She had to keep her place in his little scheme, so she leant over again towards the elf. “You and the ranger have fought together? I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that…”
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Post by Deft on Jan 30, 2008 22:14:42 GMT -5
"You wouldn't want to be on the other side either," snarled the burly one before the elf could answer, folding his muscle-twined arms into a pouted knot. "Her restrictions where ridiculous. No women. Curfew. Daily training. No women."
The man with his hawked nose laughed darkly, leaning into his chair and tipping himself more drink.
"Well, no one was killed from our company, eh? And we had the highest death rate." He rapped the table with his knuckles, as though this emphasized his point further.
"Deft's a good leader," the elf said, his smooth voice rippled only slightly with annoyance that he had been cut off, "Though I'm flattered you should count me such a warrior." His accent came in thicker- his "natural instinct" (he really thought that it made him sound more foreign and attractive, though he admitted this rarely) to pretty women.
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Post by Donax Tethanornal on Feb 7, 2008 15:17:22 GMT -5
“I see no reason why you shouldn’t be noticed more. There is more than just beauty on the outside and you seem to bleed it in your personality.” Donax’s mind was torn, he was hungry. He may go after that bar wench after all; he didn’t want to ruin this game just yet. But her pulse… it had sped up ever so slightly, lesser vampires wouldn’t have noticed. The hum of it was driving him crazy. What was this… he was no fledgling… He based everything on the strict control he kept himself under, yelling at Ralaknor when he lost his… he hadn’t felt blood lust for a century.
Donax actually blushed, well his skin flushed as his own blood surged under the surface of his face. It would however look to anyone else as if he was blushing from embarrassment. Flaring blood lust in vampires drew mortals of any gender into a sense of calm about them, by making them seem weaker and vulnerable. He, however, had not initiated it, her caution had. “This place is rather charming, if not a little over crowed… and slow on the drinks.” He glanced to where the barmaid he had entranced had gone, wondering when she’d return.
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Post by Deft on Feb 9, 2008 21:32:37 GMT -5
Deft felt a tint of fondness in her throat- blushing, that was rather... And he was rather good with compliments.
"Ah... I thank you." She felt a small lift of awkwardness (she was rather startled with all the rushing flattery), and worked to his other comment,
"It's perfect for my men, though I agree with you." She laughed, and said, "Very soldier-esq. The smoky lighting, the flittering company- and it's probably best the service is slow. You should have seen the last time we all got drunk..." Again, she laughed- the memory was rather vibrant, and a little painful, to say the least- "Not a very finely-brushed site, I assure you."
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