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A Black Jewel has obliterated the longstanding Eyrien rulership of the Territory. As the Rihlanders begin to reclaim their homeland they do so under the stern gaze of their "savior". Three separate peoples struggle to both claim their own identities and become a unified nation, but old hatreds are difficult to shed.
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Author Topic: Give Me a Shot To Remember  (Read 133 times)

Description: Attn: Malakay (NSFW, Smuts)

Offline Tormund Skybane

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Give Me a Shot To Remember
« on: Nov 01, 17, 10:56:00 AM »
This thread takes place in 185 PP, before Kalvar destroyed the Eyrien Courts.



Svendai wasn’t close to where Tormund worked out of. Truth be told it was a pain in the ass to get through the roads from District to District. The bats (a derogatory term for Eyriens) could stop you on the road for anything they wanted because they only had to answer to other bats. But his family was from Svendai and so was Malakay’s so it made sense that everyone would be back home for the Offering Ceremony. Tormund’s father had been a mentor to Malakay’s, and the two men had served as low level guards for an Eyrien Court. Warriors in their own right but never able to fight for their people, the war stories that were told were of warriors with past glories and not their own. Tormund had found that a bitter pill to swallow when he was a young man and an irritable Warlord Prince wasn’t good for anyone, really. So he’d joined the Exchange when he was still a kid, learned the bad way of thinking about Rihlander freedom (one fueled by profit) and been able to become self-sufficient at a young age while also getting to live independently of the system he deeply hated.

Still, he’d been in Malakay’s life for much of the last five years by virtue of the closeness of their families. He returned home a couple times a season to help with his uncle’s harvest on the farm shared by their families. It was a big sprawling thing (something to take a lot of pride in, really) and needed all of the help that could be spared to plant and to reap the benefits of that communal effort. Their parents thought they were a good match and to try and facilitate that union they had arranged for Tormund to do Malakay’s Virgin Night. Malakay was cute, and she could be stubborn enough that he thought she’d be a fine woman some day, but he was a decade older than her and he was too busy in his own world of running drugs, people, and contraband between borders to really consider the future his parents wanted of him settling down on the farm with a pretty wife and a bunch of kids.

But, despite that, he did as he was asked for his family because he felt a responsibility to them and Malakay’s, and so he saw to it that her introduction into the adulthood of the Blood was a good one: He treated her tenderly, he shielded her from harm, and he helped make sure that her first true sexual experience was a good one. He’d left a few days later despite his parents suggesting a wedding pact and he went back to work. He didn’t put much thought toward her afterward until his mother sent a letter reminding him that her Offering Ceremony was this month.

He considered not going if only to avoid the talk of marriage from his parents and his siblings (who were not adding into it, the bastards) but he thought of the girl he knew and once again felt an obligation to arrive. Family was important and the source for the things he did, even if they drove him up the fucking wall. So he came home, he followed the winding path up into the mountains that lead to the ancient shrine to the All-Mother that had been maintained for hundreds of years before the Purge. He wondered, as he gazed up the trail, how the world had looked two hundred years ago when the Purge struck; when Witch herself had unleashed her power and slain most of the Blood. The Eyriens had come down from their mountain homes and their dark fortresses and subjugated the Rihlanders, made them call their homeland Askavi and told them, in no uncertain terms a new truth and indisputable truth:

Rihland belonged to the Eyriens now.

He brushed such thoughts away as the bitterness of that truth settled into his gut. He walked up the path and could smell the scent of fire, smoke, and lamb. There’d be a celebration for Malakay’s Offering, of becoming a full woman in the eyes of the All-Mother and everyone else. In the back of his head he bitterly considered that the Eyriens would come and recruit her for one of their Courts. Jeweled Blood were rare and rarer still one that held a Dark Jewel like Malakay had the potential to walk away from the altar with.

He arrived and found her family and his own. By now Malakay was off into the deeper cave with the Priestess to privately hold the ceremony. It could take anywhere from an hour to a day for the skinny little Black Widow to descend and walk away with her Offering. They were joyous to see the mountain of a man that Tormund stood as, and they greeted him with warmth and familial camaraderie. They had called him ‘Giantsblood’ in his youth and that had only manifested more in his full age, his hands, arms, and chest now covered in the tattoos that highlighted his pride in his people. Malakay’s mother professed her joy in seeing him and that she’d been in the Shrine for hours now; thus they were preparing the feast for when she emerged.

He set his greetings and his smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was here because he felt the need to be. Recalling back he’d not spoken to her much since her Virgin Night, save for a couple passing conversations during harvests. This would be the first time in two years that they would be in close proximity when there wasn’t a great deal of work to be done.

He could already hear his mother humming wedding bells and he strongly felt the desire for a drink.

Still, he was quiet for now. He stuffed away any surly discontent and focused, instead, on speaking to his brother, Vuld and his sister Anya, and waited for Malakay to emerge from the Shrine with everyone else. He’d say congratulations to her, make the conversation that was necessary, have a good meal with everyone and set out the next morning to go back to work, obligation answered.

At least, that’s what he’d tell anyone who dug too deep as to why he was here.

Offline Malakay Hildedottir

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #1 on: Nov 01, 17, 11:09:39 AM »
Dusk had fallen, yawning into the night and yet she had not emerged from the ceremony. Malakay felt each passing second, enduring the hours as it stretched on with just a touch of apprehension. Her offering? A small wooden carving, gifted as a child from a boy on the eve of the harvest moon. It was perhaps the most perfect day in memory and she offered the memento of her innocence. It held a significance that she only realized when faced with parting with it.  Would the Darkness bless her? Or would she emerge to greet her loved ones with no more than her Birthright? That was ludicrous of course, but the longer the ceremony took, the more those fears crept on her like ivy, fragile but pervasive.  The flame of torchlight flickered against the walls, filling the cavern with light and casting uneven shadow on the blade the rested on the alter. Just moments ago her flesh split against its keen caress, blood welling into her palm as it tipped into the goblet of rich liquid. Then to her lips, staining them burgundy.

The tang of iron and bitterness of tannins filled her throat.  The Priestess assigned to her ceremony smiled knowingly and set to clean the blade. A white linen bandage wrapped around her small hand and the base of her thumb. The skin beneath throbbing mildly with pain. Had she not been so caught up in completing the ceremony she might have given it more attention. But pain as with boredom and indecision dragged on on when given too much attention. When the Darkness did speak, it did so resoundingly with the All-Mother’s blessing.  An uncut blood opal, the color of dusk in the fall, of amber, a touch of flame encased within. A dark jewel, though not the most imposing it was still hers, had ever only been hers, uncut, untouched and pure.

The Priestess paused just outside within the mouth of the cave and indicated for her to approach with a sweep of her arm. Night had fallen and yet she could see the glow of witch fire and hear the music of children giggling at the display. She was unsure of how long they waited, an eternity by her estimation. Cupping the jewel against her chest and squeezed, comforted by its solidity. After one last glance she slipped it into the silver locket and emerged from her Offering.

True to Rihlander form the first to see her emerge sounded the alarm and from there into a loud ruckus. Half drowning out the sound of the Priestesses voice as she announced her. Their people did nothing subtly, quietly or half-assed. Family surrounded them from all over Markoth. The first to approach was her father Hilde Dogun, followed by her Mother Emilet. The young woman disappearing against their bodies as they embraced. Tormund had not been the only one to change throughout the years. At twenty winters old, the skinny pale faced girl he had come to know had grown and filled some. Though it had been only two years since her Virgin Night she had only begun to fill into her body the summer before that, and that trend continued. Late blooming did not yield unhealthy crop.  Instead what materialized from the cave was a woman. Her hair, the color of golden wheat was pulled back from her face in an intricate plait. A dusting of cinnamon spread across the bridge of a narrow, delicate nose  and cheeks as full lips spread into a polite smile. Emilet spun a knitted linen dress with a sweeping neckline and  dyed it a deep indigo which contrasted against the hand stitched black scrolling that raced along the hem and dress sleeves for her daughter’s ceremony. It hugged the hills and valleys of her frame. Now she hemmed and hawed clasping Malakay’s uninjured hand and professing her delight at the Dark’s blessing.

Those who imposed themselves on her space, like her brother Nilde towered over the slight  Widow, forcing her chin up and back against their shoulders. “About damn time, we were getting hungry. We all but had to tie this brute down before he ran off with the lamb.” Her brother complained, shoving their Uncle’s shoulder hard and getting a mock challenge in the process.“Alright, this is where I step away.” She laughed, slipping past the men who were no doubt half deep in rye mead and were just about to scuffle.  Uncle would have Nilde in a headlock soon enough completely forgetting that he too was jeweled blood and could take a drunk man on in any fight. As it was Nilde cheerfully suffered his uncle's delusions.

“Tormund is here.”  Her mother whispered having taken the opportunity to usher behind her daughter, a hand resting on her waist. “He has traveled some distance.Unexpected no?”  She asked, pleased. Unexpected no, contrived yes. Still she could not help but allow her gaze to travel over many familiar faces before falling on towering the towering figure.More ink than she remembered crept up to his neck, his beard was thick and luxurious.  Helplessly her thoughts absconded back to her virgin night, the knot of nerves in her gut, the anticipation she hoped did not bleed from her, his comforting presence. “You have to stop.”  Malakay muttered to her mother, but her dark eyes fell on him, the corners of her mouth lifting into a playful smile that matched their warmth. Truly she was pleased and taken aback to seeing him again. Not that she didn't make a quick recovery. The last she had seen of him had been during the harvests, they had spoken easily and traded jokes mostly at the expense of their family but he had become standoffish, or perhaps hyper-focused on the work at hand and returning back to the borders. Still, their families were so close, welded at the seams that at times she couldn't be sure where one ended and the other began. They helped one another during drought and thanks to the bats those had become more prevalent without their Queens, during planting and harvests. Yet she could not escape the feeling that he would have preferred to be elsewhere. So she had given the Warlord Prince room.

He was here now though. Malakay realized the festivities would not be the same without him. After all, hadn't he tenderly and dutifully guided her through one already?

  “May I eat now?”  she asked, a surefire way to distract her maternal guardian. Mother slid before her adjusting the length of the silver chain so the  locket rested between her daughter’s breast. “I'm merely saying it is a pleasant surprise, Mal.”  A brow rose and  having groomed her daughter Emilet stepped away to join the festivities and dodge further questions.  It took a bit for her to make the rounds, stopping every so often to accept blessings and well wishes before reaching Tormund. “You came. “  Once more the smile spread, touching her eyes. It was clear that his family’s intentions or not, the end result was the same. “Come here.” Without invitation and a simple command her arms extended to wrap around his neck in a fond embrace.

Offline Tormund Skybane

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #2 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:13:08 PM »
Tormund saw her when she first emerged, of course; It was hard to ignore a shooting star in an open sky. She had definitely grown into a woman in truth. Her body was fuller than the skinny girl he’d helped spear into adulthood and his eyes did not miss the change. A deep and raw hunger roiled through him like thunder over an open plain and he barely suppressed the growl that wanted to boil through his chest. His brother Vuld noticed her more openly, letting out a low whistle and a salacious grin. The openness of his interest drew Tormund’s gaze over, a scowl beneath the beard.

“You got the fuck that, eh brother?” Vuld asked without trying to hide his tone. A Virgin Night wasn’t a secret affair nor something to be embarrassed over. Nonetheless Tormund didn’t care for the way that Vuld was talking and it showed as he shifted off his post. “Wouldn’t be so bad to square that one away for yourself, I’d say.” Vuld turned to Tormund, still grinning, but it faded as he noted how dark his elder brother’s look became.

“No-one fucking asked you.” The Warlord Prince growled, and it shut Vuld up good as he noticed he overstepped. Tormund was thankful that Malakay’s family swarmed her so it gave some room to make sure that Vuld’s ‘opinion’ wasn’t easily overheard. But his sister heard it, and his mother heard it, and that kept the bad mood in his chest and in his face until she broke away from the others.

Something about Tormund’s temper had always been darker than even other Warlord Princes; it lent a precarious and dangerous air around him. It could easily drive others away or make them irritable or angry themselves. A psychic bleed-over of the rage that constantly boiled within him that wanted to get out.

But it bled away into nothingness as Malakay approached and smiled at him, and he smiled down at her in turn. “Aye. That I did.” And she, without fear of him or reservation, summoned him closer and drew him into her.

His hands found the small of her back and picked her up off of her feet. He was a full foot taller than her and more than twice her weight; given the lifestyle he lived of hard exercise, climbing, and the occasional need to lift people over the mountains, he found her light as a feather. Rough hands hewn from stone wrapped around her smaller (though he noticed much curvier) frame and pulled her into the warmth of his chest, his beard brushing across the top of her head. Then he hefted her higher so that her arms more easily found around his neck and he kissed her cheeks, sliding a bulky arm beneath her bottom to tuck her legs around him.

Face to face, close to one another, he recalled vividly her scent and how it had stayed with him for days after their night together. It was stronger now and fresher, fuller, and it filled him with a dance of electricity along his spine that made him smile all the wider. “I brought you something. But I’ll have to give it to you later.” He winked at her, conspiratorial in his tone and in his expression. He had always been able to be playful.

….When he wasn’t seeming like a predator.

He would hold her still and the cheers of the others indicated the clan seemed to much approve of their reunion. He could see his mother and father exuberant at it, giving encouraging smiles and expressions, and he rolled his eyes a bit. He turned to her and slowly set her down onto her own two feet, his hand trailing up to cup the Jewel that she had received upon her chest.

“Oh. Just like mine. Uncut, though.” He said with an impressed nod of his face and quip of his mouth. “We’ll have to get you a jeweler and make you a proper set. You can get a couple rings and some earrings, even, from this!” He had a manner of respect for her he’d not shown before, his eyes lifting from the Jewel to her eyes.

His hand slowly dropped, his expression becoming more serious. “You look good, Mal. It suits you.” He said her name at last, a heaviness to it that was as sturdy and solid as stone. “You must be excited.”

Offline Malakay Hildedottir

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #3 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:27:23 PM »
There was something natural about greeting Tormund this way. Their people were an impassioned lot and they held tradition and the value of family and friends in the highest regard. Yet it was more than that when it came to the burly specimen before her. He held a special place in her soul, in that he helped protect it. Tormund’s temper was not unknown to her. She had quietly learned to recognize both subtle and evident changes to his countenance. Where a  Warlord Prince brimmed with passions his could boil over, consuming everyone and everything in its path.  This fury never alarmed her as it had never turned in her direction. In fact, sometimes she found the best way to quell it was to change the focus entirely. In this case, a warm welcome.

His eyes softened and the smile he cast down on her beyond the bushel of thick whiskers could warm her on a cold night. They reached for each other without hesitation. Whatever had annoyed him so profoundly before, forgotten. Slender arms draped around his neck and in one swoop, his palm clasped the small of her back, hefting her up off her feet. She squealed in surprise, joyous laughter ringing in his ear. His chest was solid, her own crushed against it against his ribs, melding perfectly against his white shirt. With a sudden jolt, he easily bounced her up to fall in line with his gaze, an arm curled under her ass guiding her legs around his waist for purchase. She laughed, but a familiar thrill raced through her with sudden heat.

It took all she could to stamp down the excited knot in her belly.

His beard felt rough against her cheeks, wiry but smooth. She pulled back, just enough to face him, her left arm dangling lazily around his broad shoulder, hand cupping the back of his neck. When she did he would find her almond shaped eyes dancing as they met his. He was even more magnificent than she remembered and had she been the shy girl that she once was, all the color would have risen to her pale cheeks at the mere thought. Instinctively her knees tightened slightly beneath the folds of her skirt applying applying just a little more pressure to his hips, though she had no fear of falling. Tormund would never allow that. He kissed her cheeks and she pressed her lips to his temple and lowered her gaze to him.

He winked and her eyes lit up with interest. Receiving small gifts had always delighted her. Of Course everyone liked gifts but Malakay was far more susceptible. Her favorite were small baubles, or objects of meaning that she could hold in her and collect. There was something in the playfulness of his tone that captured her attention. “You did?”  She asked interested. Studying his features carefully, her smile broadened as she leaned closer to his ear, choosing to take dual meaning to his “gift”.  “I look forward to seeing it.” she whispered privately and though she had not intended, those words were heavy.

The sound of voices rose up jubilantly as they held to one another. She felt small in his embrace but not as much as she had the first time. Had she grown or perhaps was it the change in confidence that made her feel as though she carried more of a presence? “I am so happy you are here.” Malakay offered genuinely her hands moving to cup his face.

Slowly he settled her back on the ground, her legs unfurling from around him. Only now did the sound of their families ring in her ears, for a moment there was only Tormund. Everything else just seemed to drown out and only now was slowly coming into focus.  He reached up and cupped the heavy locket, thick fingers brushing the sharp line of her collar.  There was something wholly intimate in holding someone else's jewel in their hands. Later, when it was cut she would spin her traps to protect her precious Offering as she had her Birthright. He admired the stone and she found herself to be completely at ease as he turned it in his hand. It was true, Tormund had a Blood Opal same as hers, this satisfied her even more. “Arent we a matching set?” She teased, nodding as he spoke of jewelers. Having it cut would be a priority. Tucking wisps of hair that had fallen from her plait behind her ear she met his gaze.

When he spoke to her this time, it was not like an older guardian talking down to child. Not that Tormund had ever been so blatantly disrespectful. Nor would she have tolerated it. Even at a young age her temper was known and she did not suffer insult lightly. Which was an impressive sight as the All Mother gifted this Black Widow with an innocence to her features that made her look at first appearance to be utterly tame. Anyone to who earned her ire learned a quick lesson. The complement carried the weight of observance as did the sound of her name on his lips. Things had changed much from her Virgin Night, his guidance had more effect that perhaps was intended though she would not have given him all the credit. “Thank you.  Aye, I am, also unsettled, so much time has gone waiting for the Offering that I'm just getting my footing. Then there is...recruiting” The Eyriens were always a concern, especially now.


It was then as they looked on one another, that she took note of Vult’s presence. Turning her head to address him she smiled tolerantly. “Vult.”  She said his name in way of greeting, but it was clear the longer she stared at him, her smile unmoving but polite, that it was also a dismissal. It probably wouldn't take him long to take the hint. Though she was blissfully unaware of Vult’s earlier comments, she was all but certain his brother was to blame for for the scowl she had caught on Tormund’s face earlier. Only when the man stepped away did she catch the broad smiles of their mother and sister.  Shifting to his right she tilted her head toward him and spoke quietly. “Still at it are they?” Obviously even in his absence the family did not spare her in their talks of marriage. “Any way you can smuggle me out? I can pay now.” A finger tapped against her locket in jest.

Mostly in jest.

 Somewhere her mother probably had the same look on her face and she wasn't about to look to find out.  “Come on my Prince” Mal motioned for him to walk with her. “ I want to know what has kept ye away so long.”

Offline Tormund Skybane

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #4 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:28:22 PM »
Malakay’s flirty reply to the fact that he’d brought a gift for her caught him a bit by surprise. It wasn’t that Tormund was the bashful type or awkward around women; quite the opposite. But he wasn’t used to it from Mal.

Then again, she wasn’t a little girl any more. She was a woman now, full grown and a Black Widow to boot. He should have expected her to be unafraid of a little flirting here and there. He set her down and though he felt a momentary touch of relief from doing so (popping some wood in front of everyone was only going to be a headache later) some of him ached that he’d set her down so fast.

We’re a matching set, she had said. ”Yeah, guess we are.” He replied easily enough with a small smile behind his beard. But he wondered idly if Malakay hadn’t been looking forward to this moment with him here. No more excuses, she was a woman now and he an unwedded man. Was that something she wanted? To settle down and have a husband? Certainly it was something everyone’s parents smashed into their skulls from a young age. And shouldn’t he, as well, want it? And if not with Mal, would anyone else really come up that would fit whatever mold he was waiting for?

Something gnawed at him in question and growled back in response. Now wasn’t the time to get moody or introspective about it. But he could get plenty growly about the mention of ‘recruiting’. Some of that was less than cordial. He’d ran into a few of the bats in less-than-pleasant meetings.

The mere mention brought a growl deep from his chest and his expression darkened from one of mirth to deep anger. ”Yeah. Well they can fuckin try it.” He said in almost petulant bravado, but it would be a mistake to consider that Tormund’s dare wasn’t one backed by a deeply violent streak.

That moment of dark anger came and went, and Mal easily shifted the topic to something about their family nagging them about marriage, and he let out a half laugh. ”I think they’ll be at it until I put a baby in their arms.” He snorted, shaking his head. ”They’re just going to have to wait a bit longer.” He was only thirty, after all. There’ll be time later, he told himself. When he wasn’t smuggling and doing crazy shit any more.

”Heh, don’t think you’d wanna go to Glacia, Mal. It’s worse than here.” At least, that’s what the Glacians would have him believe. He wasn’t entirely convinced, though. ”Besides, what’re you gonna pay me with? You don’t have a job.”

Smiling, he walked after her, as his humor returned to him. He stuffed down his bad mood and walked after her. They were still in the larger cave and there was a trail outside that they could follow down and put some distance between themselves and the others. There was a large field at the bottom of the trail where small trees and long grasses hung beneath the moonlight and the full star-filled sky. It was bright out, despite being night. The moon was giving enough illumination that someone wouldn’t get lost and it’d be easy to find their way back.

Besides, some space would be good. Vult was pissing him off.

His brother fucked off and joined with the others to have some of the homebrewed ale that Mal’s uncle had made and brought here for a special occasion. Tormund got to have the real stuff these days and that ruined whatever taste that such swill would provide. He walked at Mal’s side as they made their way from the others.

Summoning the flask from his psychic cabinet, he offered it to her with a slowly widening grin. ”It’s rum from Dhemlan. Very far away. Strong as fuck, so be careful with it.” He nodded to the flask once she took it. Dhemlanese rum was said to be potent enough that even the Jeweled Blood would feel its effects, whereas most Jeweled Blood would need to drink a deep amount to feel any sort of buzz. ”They put spells in it to make you drunk. Leave it to the Long Lived to find some way for Craft to give ‘em their kicks, right?

Feel free to save it for later. I felt it was a special occasion.”
Trade with Territories outside of Askavi was illegal and difficult to boot, so it was no small token that he’d given her. Atop it, due to the Prohibitions any sort of alcohol was illegal. He’d handed her a premium black market good; one she could sell to the right person and cash in on a mighty good pay day.

His eyes swept across the field and the rolling hills beyond. A slight breeze rolled in and he took in a slow and deep breath. ”You gonna listen to your folks and go be a farmer, or you going to try and work for a Court? The Eyriens would teach you, y’know. Dark Jewels too rare to ignore, even if you’re a Rihlander.” His voice was kept neutral, but Mal knew well enough to know that Tormund hated them with a passion. There were a few rumors that he’d gotten into fights with his father for serving in an Eyrien controlled Court.

But in the end, such a position paid, and well; Much better than being a farmer. It also tended to get the Eyriens off your back.

Offline Malakay Hildedottir

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #5 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:33:44 PM »
The way his eyes flared just a touch let her know she had caught him off guard. Good. It brought her a small amount of pleasure to know she could. The ground met her sandaled feet and she felt an unsteadiness she hadn't when his hand snagged her waist and lifted her up and against him. It was an odd sensation, but one she couldn't put too much thought on, not right now. They were in public and their families had a way of invading even the most private of thoughts.

Slender fingers smoothed over the sharp edges of the uncut blood opal, casting to memory its shape, the weight of it around her neck. So much time was spent preparing for the Offering, unsure of what if anything the Darkness would grant her and now, with so many opportunities before her she felt stalled. There wasn't a single trajectory anymore and while she didn't lie when she said she was excited, it felt exhilarating and daunting at the same time. For a moment she wondered if Tormund had felt the same.

He rumbled faintly and she lifted her eyes to the top of his shoulders, smirking softly. It was like a Warlord Prince to take such a protective stance. Though he had always been a little more so with her, perhaps due to her age, stature or because contrary to her caste she had always physically looked so innocent. “There you are.”  She muttered, acknowledging that anger, and while she wasn't mocking it, a part of her always liked making sure the flame was still hot.

“And what a large baby that will be.”  Her full lips pressed together playfully. “They are persistent if nothing else. Our mothers have become skilled interrogators, just fair warning.”  She nodded in agreement. Their interference came from a good place, it had been applied to them as young adults by their parents and those before them. Tradition was important and yet Malakay felt as though she had just stepped out of the womb of the world and needed to explore her space. “There is time.” Her attention shifted to Tormund. He was a warming pyre in the night and while the idea of his hand lacing in hers and guiding her into a quiet space once more felt right, it had also been a fantasy.

“I’ve heard.”  Her laughter, soft and melodious trickled out. “You would be surprised. I’ve become quite skilled. You have no idea boon my mother finds it to have a Widow mending socks.” Her eyes rolled. “If nothing else, I could keep your feet warm, or poison your enemies. Imagine how much time and money you’d save.”  Someone called their names, Mal turned her head and waved indicating they were heading out. No one stopped them, they would have to tackle the wall their parents were currently forming to keep them from interrupting.

They walked, her two steps to his one, and yet he managed to pace himself. Rihland was beautiful. It being the only land she ever knew, still, she saw it for what it was. The crisp air, endless fields of green that dulled to gold and bronze in the fall months. The way the earth rose and fell, sometimes harsh and unforgiving and in others picturesque, endless. Their people loved the land, they worked it until the soil sank into their flesh and coursed through their veins. She would have liked to think it loved them back.   Taking in a deep breath she followed the trail by his side. A veil of light illuminated the night sky, twinkling with millions of tiny, watchful stars.

Though she felt the pull of jewel energy she glanced over just in time to see the flask manifest in his hands. Her brow creased and he handed it to her as he explained.  Malakay held the cool metal in her hands, dark eyes thoughtful.  It was no bauble, but a very generous gift. Leave it to Tormund to grant her something age appropriate. The expense however..”Thank you.”  Again she smiled, delightedly, and turned her gaze back in his direction. “You’ll share some with me right?”  There was a hint of menace in her tone were he to deny her .No wonder he hadn’t given it to her in front of the others. They might have been rushed. “‘I’d think ye’d get bored living so long. Might as well have a little fun. Dhemlans obviously have redeeming qualities.”  She smirked, slipping the flask into the fold of her sleeve and into her psychic cabinet as it was too dangerous carrying that around in the open.

The field opened up before them, grasses shifting in the breeze. They descended on the trail, her skirts swaying in counter rhythm to her hips. “No.”  She said softly, though they were in private and had no fear of being overheard. “I am not a farmer.”  She confessed. As much as she loved her life and her family, there was a void that would not be filled by tending crop. “I will try to work in a court. I've received some training from the Coven so that should prove...useful. Enough so that I've been told if I do go, I might have to stay for a while.”  The idea of working for the Eryiens though was enough to keep her up at night, and it did in the days leading up to the Offering. There was a heaviness in the silent pause before she spoke again. “At least until.”  Something changes. Anything changes. It was all they could hope for.  Tormund didn't have to growl and posture to let her know he disapproved of their winged rulers. They all felt it. “A means to a way. That’s all it is, right?”  Malakay stopped walking as she asked the question, the cool wind brushed against her pale, spotted cheeks loosening a few strands of golden hair from the intricate braid in the process. Perhaps a part of her was looking for his approval, for Tormund to tell her that it wouldn't change the way that they thought of her.

It felt strange, silently asking him for a such a thing. They did not see one another often enough for his opinions to matter as much as they did. Her eyes lowered to the center of his chest in thoughtful consideration. He towered over her and it was just the easiest place to let her gaze fall. “Let’s crack into this bottle. You can tell me about life as a bad boy.”

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #6 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:36:51 PM »
“It’s your present, Mal. If you want to share it, that’s your business.” Tormund responded with a smooth aplomb, his massive shoulders shrugging at the idea. “I’ve had some before. It’s rough stuff, as I said.” His stoicism faded into a mischievous smirk; somewhat at her expense. “Probably only take half the bottle to fuck you up good.

As for the Dhemlanese? I’ve never met one. Only worked with a couple different folks who went out that far. Dhemlan’s other side of the world from what I hear. Couldn’t tell you for sure. Haven’t seen a map of Kaeleer. Just here.”


She confessed she had no desire to be a farmer, and he nodded in agreement with the thought as he walked slowly at her side. Giant steps counter to her softer ones and his blue eyes swept over the fields. “I understand. Papa sensed that I’d not be content with that life once I had my Birthright and it was clear I’d have a Dark Jewel. He’d suggested a Court, too. But I couldn’t stomach it.” His eyes burned hot for a moment, and he turned to her with disapproval in his gaze at her suggestion that serving at a Court would be something she’d do to gain mastery over her skills.

He frowned and a tide of harsh words came to his lips but he held against it. If it was someone else he would have let fly, but Mal was still young (a woman now, a voice in his head reminded), and this was a special night (but you may not see her again).

But he couldn’t just agree. “It’s not.” He said, in answer to her that’s all it is, right? “But you’re not the first to do it. And you won’t be the last.” Though his words were not, completely, mollifying.

He nodded to the flask in her hands, confident that they’d put some space between them and the rest of the ceremony. They were surrounded by grass, some trees, and a couple rocks that looked like they’d be suitable for short-time seats. He started moving into the field but didn’t gesture for her to follow, he was sure she would. ”You first. It’s your present.” He moved and slowly sat himself down on the larger rock, turning to face her where she stood. He wanted to be able to look her in the eyes easier, and the moonlight flowing across her hair, her skin, and her dress made her shine like she was a gift from the All-Mother herself. For a moment, his eyes looked over at her and his heart beat faster in excitement. For that moment of awe his anger was forgotten and instead he was just marveled at how beautiful she looked.

So much so, that he couldn’t hold back his words. Tormund had a way of speaking his mind in any situation, and this one was different. Night, you’re beautiful Mal.” He said with honest appreciation, his head nodding slowly toward her though his eyes didn’t leave her face. ”It’s crazy how much you’ve grown up in two years.”

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #7 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:39:13 PM »
It was not unusual for Tormund to tease her about her size. It had always been a fascination for him, taunting her just so she would keep up. It worked, for the most part. Only she had been a child then. Some habits were hard to break however, no matter how much she physically matured. “Oh we will see about that.”  The Black Widow smiled back at him as a sign his challenge was accepted. Never should anyone dare a Rihlander to drink more than they could handle. Prohibitions aside, hooch was in their blood. “Think of exploring outside of the borders?”  She asked curiously. This was home, but a peek wouldn't hurt. Glacia was their neighbor, but there were too many light jeweled Blood literally dying to escape their homeland to warrant too much interest in visiting.

“I don't have much of a choice.”  She nearly barked back when not receiving the empathy that she requested. Nor the level of understanding. Tormund hated the Eyriens and in turn everything around them. The only reason that he held his tongue as much as he did was because their fathers had but little recourse but to work to feed their families. Alone, in the sanctity of their homes they could speak more freely, but to do so publicly could spell death. No one was willing to risk that.  Even Tormund bended the prohibitions. She held a piece of his rebellion in her hands and it calmed her. Maybe she did get a greater gift than an expensive flask of magic rum. He wanted to say more, she could feel it pushing against his lips, dragging them down into a glower. He didn't like it and a part of her accepted that. Hopefully he understood that she didn't like the idea of serving the Eyriens any more than he did. “You will have to trust me.” Did he trust her to be true to herself?

The topic fell and she let it knowing it would be a stain on the night. The sky was full of stars, only a few clouds framing the endless canvas. One had to look up to see its vastness and then ahead to where the grass and the sky wouldn't ever truly meet. Trees shivered against the breeze, like wind chimes. Calling the flask once more, she twisted the smooth cap, letting it fall against the bottle tethered by a strip of leather.  It was a good thing they took a stroll or it wouldn't have been her present for long.

It smelled sweet and slightly spicy at the same time. Nothing like her Uncle’s cheap concoctions. Taking a sip it only took a second for the cough to rumble from her chest and up into her mouth. A free hand clasped close to her lips, nose wrinkling. It was both sweet and spicy along with unexpected. The rum had a richness to it that filled her throat and belly. When he gave her a look she quickly retorted,  “You were not right. I just have something in my throat. “

“Namely Fire.” Cough.

Finding a seat, she took note at how no matter what he still seemed larger than life. Malakay stood before him looking out into the field, clearing her throat so she wouldn't have to face that vexatious little smirk of his. Expecting a remark in which she would need to parry she hadn't expected the astonishment in his deep voice. Her head turned immediately, the braid falling over her pale collar only to be left unsteady by the way he his eyes washed over her admiringly. Not once had he looked at her with this degree of severity. A familiar knot webbed within her stomach spun in silk and lighter than before.  A slow, tentative smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The warmth she felt earlier spread.  He was Tormund. There was no other nor greater way to describe him.  Tawny eyes studied his handsome face, the drop of his nose, lips hidden beneath  framing tufts of hair.  Her first urge would be unwise she thought, to run her fingers through the beard and taste his lips again. That was the prevalent thought. Then were others, he had long since been absent and though he did not have to make an appearance at the Offering ceremony, she wasn't sure exactly what had drawn him back home. There was always a chance that it was just duty.

Her hand stretched offering him the flask wordlessly.  Once he took it, her fingers lifted, plucking tenderly on the whiskers of his chin and cheek. Gathering her skirts she turned and lowered herself against his side. The idea of simply perching on his right thigh came to mind filling her with thoughts she wasn't sure were appropriate. As it was he had put to lift his heavy arm for her to mold into that nook.  The closeness didn't bother her. It never did. “Lots can change in two years.  Will you stay for more than a day?”  She asked, not realizing till now that was what she really wanted. Her chin lifted, tilting to study his face. “If I asked you to?”

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #8 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:40:44 PM »
The Warlord Prince had wanted to argue with Malakay about her decision to join one of the Courts. He wanted to, in fact, shout out that line of reasoning out of her pretty little head. He hated the Eyriens and what they’d done to his family, to his friends, to his country. He hated that right now she was right in that her options were limited and that she’d have to accept a contract if she wanted to further her abilities and her standing and that was a heavy stone he had to swallow.

He didn’t want to swallow away his argument, but he did. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. She wasn’t at fault. It wouldn’t change anything. A million, million reasons for him to tell her she was wrong to help the bat-winged bastards who had chained his people like dogs and yet… he couldn’t. Not right now. Not when it was her night and her future. He didn’t have any alternatives to give her that were sensible. Convincing her to work for the Exchange would be asking her to risk her life for nothing more than principle. Telling her to join the idiots and their doomed Rebellion was even worse.

So instead he just sat there, simmering in his impotent anger. The air was noticeably charged now. It would lead a weight to irritability, to stubbornness, to aggression. His own psychic persona of an-in-your-face challenger bleeding into their interaction almost like an infection. He tried to suppress it fully but failed.

Instead he released only a short, clipped response. ”It’s your choice.” He said. And it was true, but he still hated it.

That anger, thankfully, faded away like a slowly siphoned storm as she drank of the exotic alcohol. He did laugh at her, and fully so, when she coughed and sputtered and tried to act like he’d been wrong. He accepted the offered flask with large, thick fingers and brought it to his lips with a grin. ”I told you. See? You should listen to me more often, Mal. I’m always right.”

That arrogant mien maintained itself as she welcomed herself into his personal space. She touched his beard and his mustache, running soft fingers through the fine hairs. She moved to sit down at his side, but boldly (perhaps fueled by the fire that flowed through him from the swig he’d just taken) he redirected her with a burly arm and pulled her into his lap, letting her legs dangle on the side of his own. His arm curled around her waist, his hand positing in her own lap as he offered the flask back to her after licking his lips of the sweet fire that had left itself on his mouth.

“Mm. Why?” He asked with a touch of playfulness, but his eyebrows remained level and his eyes focused intently on her face. “You miss me?” His mouth shifted into more of a smile, a coy one that had a wolfish manner.

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #9 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:43:44 PM »
She didn't like being put in a corner. It rankled her to have so little options if she wanted to live up to her potential. The thought of joining the Exchange had come to mind, but it quickly sounded worse and worse in her head as time went on. There was a way she could be of use. The Darkness granted her respectable jewels. She was focused and had a thirst for knowledge.  In order to use all the tools in her arsenal, she would have to conform, at least for a time. The idea of staying at home and letting her skills atrophy was even worse. No doubt her family would have her married within a year and All Mother that was more terrifying than facing the Eyriens.  It wasn't that she wouldn't want that one day, but Malakay also wanted more. It was a greedy little part of her that had flourished in the last two years.

Tormund’s ire bled, activating the air and causing her to snap back at him. Though one could argue that was a natural response, especially for one of her caste, the emotion behind it was enhanced by him.  He had a way of pulling her into his space, which was impressive considering how often others made strives to be outside of it.

His laughter rang in her ears, heavy like drums, deep and throaty. It brought to mind memories of harvests and feasts, him rolling down hills with other boys. The sound of it was intoxicating, more so than Dhemlanese rum, that while potent, didn't call up the urge to laugh along. Fingers pressed to the center of her chest. The warmth was spreading though she had taken only a sip. The burning turned pleasant, almost smoothing. He wasn't kidding when he said the long lived added a little extra ingredient to their liquor.  “Oh are you? I remember several times when that hasn’t been the case.” The woman smirked, rolling her eyes at his imperious aside. Though it had not kept her from touching him or moving comfortably to his side.

His arm guided her closer, giving her little choice, the horror, of settling on his lap. Smoothing her skirts with the palms of her hand, she let it drape across the breadth of his thighs. It was far more comfortable than a rock would have been. The smirk never leaving her face, looking somewhat smug. Her side molded against his flawlessly,  as she predicted. Theirs was an easy relationship, fluid, natural. Had it felt like that before? Surely she always held great affection for him, and he showed his own by being a protective shadow. Twisting a bit to make herself comfortable, right shoulder leaning into the crook of his arm. His hand felt like a lead weight on her thigh.

Taking the flask and turning it in her hand, she took another sip, a little longer this time. The liquid splashed against the back of her throat and while the urge to cough was immediate, stubbornness quickly wrangled that in. Her tongue darted against her lips, head tilting in his direction. They were inches apart and she smiled haughtily before offering the flask back. It still burned, only this was the kind she could easily handle.

“Yes.” She said it without hesitation, without pretense in response to his question. It was more honesty than she was used to giving. At the very least more potent. Her eyes meeting his squarely so there would be no doubt that she had missed him. Though he had gone away long ago to seek out his life, it was always bittersweet to have him return. Like puzzle piece was missing and the edges were wrong so not just any could fit. .  “Did you miss me?” Her brow arched demurely, followed by the second. There could only be one right answer in this, of course. It was easier to pretend to know the answer when she really wanted it to be true. 

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #10 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:49:02 PM »
For a brief moment, everything was nearly perfect. The sky was full and bright. Mal was sitting on his lap, laughing and smiling. She was nearly burning up in how warm she felt on him. The smell of her hair and her body was fresh in his nostrils. His chest was warm with freedom and rum. For that brief moment, he was truly thankful for being alive.

She handed him the flask and admitted without fear that she had missed him. He wasn’t surprised, per se, but it surprised him how much he liked hearing that. He looked at her fully and slowly set the flask down beside him on the rock, twisting it closed with his thumb. She asked him if he missed her, and he held her gaze for a moment.

His tattooed hands slid up along her thigh and sides, departing her body only to return to cup her cheeks. His thumb slid along her cheekbone, right beneath her eye, and caressed it with the leathery, rough skin of his finger. She felt so soft beneath his hand, so fragile, it amazed him and compelled him at the same time.

Tormund didn’t answer her question though, not verbally. He slid his thumb down to cup her jaw and he brought her face forward into his to kiss her full mouth. His lips tasted of the rum; spicy and sweet, and his tongue plied her lips open to drink more of her. She’d felt what that tongue was capable of, and he gave just the glimmer of a reminder as it worked its way into the pert cavity of her mouth and tasted the flesh of her lips before pushing deeper to find her own tongue.

It was risky business getting a Black Widow horny. It was riskier to do it for a Warlord Prince. But he wasn’t worried about wedding proposals or expectations or Eyriens or any other fucking thing in this world. All he worried about was giving her no doubt to the truth of his answer.

He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. ”Aye.” He said, then held out just long enough to take in a slow breath that made the full span of his chest expand for a moment before he exhaled. ”Aye, I missed ya.”

He wanted to kiss her again and for a moment that weighed against his other impulse. But rather than dine on her mouth again he pulled back and grinned like a fool. His smile was almost boyish as he reached down, grabbed the flask, and put it between them.

”Drink your present and stop trying to distract me, jerk. We keep going like this and we won’t ever finish it.”

Offline Malakay Hildedottir

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #11 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:53:15 PM »
She sat comfortably, wondering if he would respond. His lips twitched a little broader when she gave her answer and handed the flask back. The metal retained the warmth of his hand. Solid, smooth, reliable, even when he took it and set it aside, her hand felt empty without it.  Their gaze didn't break, but his own turned more serious. The playful quirk of his lips settled meditatively. If she had any doubt that she had said too much it washed away. There was a purposeful way his palm slid up her knee to swell of her thigh. The linen fabric bunching. He left small signs of devastation in his wake, but nothing was ruined. Malakay didn't tense, she didn't move, just stared into the enigmatic depths of his eyes, down the bridge of his nose and to his lips.  A thickly calloused thumb, one put to use over the years in fights and rough labor, traced the speckles of her cheek so tenuously that she pressed into it.

She smelled sweet but fragrant, of juniper, and kusymre, small dainty flowers with soft golden centers. They spoke of spring and beginning, their perfume subtle and understated. His touch burned into her skin as it did that night, even still.  Her head tipped, eyes lidding as he drew near. She could smell the rum on his breath, exotic. Rose petal lips parted ever so slightly in welcome and upon that first breath she inhaled through her nose filling her lungs with his scent. Memories surged forward, but she held them back, focusing on the moment, not wishing to lose a single second for the sake of the past.  Course hairs brushed her chin tickling her face. Tormund would not find the meek girl he knew before. The one who lowered her gaze, who tensed before submitting to the enjoyment of the act. The girl who asked herself what was next. Malakay kissed him, drawing his tongue into her small mouth, brushing his with her own. Her right hand rose, raking small nails up and into the hairline at the back of his neck and pressing a little closer. .

The Offering Ceremony, a mass of family just up the hill, difficult decisions just melted away from her chain of priorities. At the moment there was only Tormund and the hungry tingling at the base of her stomach. It veined up her spine, into her legs and arms. It filled her with desire to give back a little of what he had given to her.

But he pulled broke the kiss and her eyes dawned on his face, tilting. It wasn't enough to answer the question in action, but all the sweeter that he chose to in words as well.  They took a breath, cool air filling their lungs and providing perhaps a bit of clarity.

Going far wasn't an option as he had made the decision to perch the young woman on his lap and she had no interest in relinquishing her seat.  Tittering she took the flask, shaking it back and forth. The liquid sloshed within. “Sounds like we have plenty, Fish.” she teased.

Shrugging her bare shoulders she lifted the arm closest to him draping it across the back of his neck so they were nestled close. She wouldn't be much of a Black Widow if she just let him get away with that. “Alright ass. Though who says I intend on finishing it?”  Lips parting she deliberately brought the upended flask up to hover over the swell of her cupid's bow. “I’ve found these types of things to be rare, and should be savored.”  Her mouth brushing the opening with every word. Taking a slip she rolled the liquid around on her tongue and swallowing. Only then did she tip forward and brush her lips against his enticingly. Providing only a taste. The temptation was too great that she would want more.  “Tormund, stay, just a while longer?” She asked formally. At the very least, they could extol this short time together for as long as they could.Perhaps they may never get that chance again.


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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #12 on: Nov 01, 17, 12:53:48 PM »
Mal’s laughter and her smile was as light as air; her body not much heavier on him. He felt her fingernails graze along his skin and it made his body tingle. The fire that was in his body grew warmer and was stoked with every pull of her fingers. She wasn’t a girl any more. She was a woman, now. Her hands moved without hesitation and with want, and so did her mouth.

He felt his body harden, tighten, constrict, lust. A quiet voice howled at him to sink his teeth into her and feast, and so he let his hands rest at her hips as she plied with the flask, drank, and looked at him. She rolled her hips softly to adjust her seat and she found something solid as she moved against him. She brushed her rum-tinged mouth against his and asked him to stay a while longer.

The Warlord Prince’s hands took solid possession of her thighs then and he took deliberate aim to slowly widen them, opening her core to his body. He pulled her forward, draped her legs around his waist, and his hands slid along from her thighs, along her hips, down to the round firm cushion of her ass. His strong fingers grabbed her there and pulled her closer, until there was barely any space between them, right where he wanted her.

”Why do you want me to stay, Mal?” He asked slowly, though he already knew part of the answer. But this wasn’t a girl any more that had he’d been summoned to spear. This was a woman grown, and his eyes focused on her with the hunger of a predator set on a meal. He didn’t let his face close enough so he could see her eyes and her mouth. So he could see the moonlight highlight the amber in her eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, and the way her mouth and face ripened to a pinker peach.

”You tell me what you want, and I’ll help you savor it.” His words rumbled like thunder between them, his hands unyielding in their grip on her. She felt his breath wash hot across her neck as he breathed through his nose, a bull ready to charge.

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #13 on: Nov 01, 17, 03:03:24 PM »
This was not some weak little fly could snare. If Tormund wanted to get caught he would have to tangle himself in that web willingly. He would have to want to. Yet even now, his hands on her body, the heat rolling off of him like a hungry flame and all she could think of was how exquisite it would be to burn with him. Memories of their night flooded into her thoughts, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath as he kissed her neck, thick fingers brushing her hair away from her shoulder. Tangling in it. Slow, deliberate, gentle.  She shifted easily on his lap only to find a very real physical manifestation of his ardor press against her outer thigh. Catching her breath she willed herself to inhale and open her eyes.  Awaiting his response.

This time he seized upon it while offering no real answer. Drawing it out, he made her work for it. Had he truly wished it he would stay for just a bit, to concede to such a small request when there was so much reward and so little risk. It would cost him nothing. It amazed her to think they had just reunited moments ago and already their hands sought each other out from that first hello. That even now she purred inwardly at his touch, his lips driving her to distraction.The angry little appetite that formed slowly through the years gnashed with want.  As hard as she tried she could not correlate the hunger that drew her toward him now with the sexually timid youth of two years past. 

Tormund eased her thighs apart firmly, bringing her close, so close that she could feel the lustful strain of his trousers press against the thin fabric of her skirt and underclothes.Vivid memories trickled into her thoughts, a yearning stirring as if awakening from its long slumber and eager to gorge itself as he was now. It felt like crashing against a stone wall and finding her trapped against the breadth of his chest. Her eyes flared predatorily for a split second, a juxtaposition to her heart shaped lips and fawn eyes.Hands tightened dimpling the fleshy round of her ass.

Her right hand, snached at the back of his neck, small fingers curling against his skin. Her back arched, perfecting her posture so with only the slightest downward cantt of her head could she face him head on, and still it felt like he loomed.

“Why do you want me to stay, Mal?” 

The question hung in the air, tethered only by the sound of her name. The earth rumbled with his next words and bore into her eyes with a ferocity she had never experienced from him. It was beautiful in savagery simply because it was his. Her other hand slipped down his arm, over the thick ribbons trapped beneath his jacket, down to the elbow and forearm. Her touch muted by the layers and yet he might feel every deliberant movement, every change. Without looking, her fingers pinched against the ebony fabric of her skirt and drew it up over the stem of a long leg which curled against his hip. The linen pooled draping across her thigh.  Relieved of some tension, she slipped her body closer, his hands finding there was still a scant amount of space between them. Malakay corrected this, before lifting her hand again so her fingers sank through the thick tresses of his cropped hair and drew his head back so he could watch her lips caress each word and there would be no doubt. “I told you why.”  She missed him, deeply and yet he knew there was more, but perhaps not what he feared. “I'm not looking to trap you. I am not looking to lock you away as my own when I don't know what tomorrow holds. I know thats not what you want.” She paused and smiled devilishly. “Not yet at least.” Honesty. “What I want from you my Warlord Prince is a proper reunion and vigorous farewell. I want you to stay, because for a short time I would have us belong to one another. One night isn't enough. “ Her warm breath washed over his lips as she inched closer, the smile which all but waned tugged one last time. “Driving them crazy...” she said referring to family. “Is just a perk.”

They could be interrupted at any time and that simply wouldn't do.Her breast rose and fell with each heavy breath. Her hand slipped from his hair , curling so she could trace the slide of his temple, cheek and jaw with the back of her fingers. “I want to give myself to you. One more offering.” Her nose brushed against his, drawing in the heat of his breath into her lungs, the last words whispered as she sat ready on his altar.

Offline Tormund Skybane

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #14 on: Nov 07, 17, 01:51:41 PM »
One more offering,  Malakay had said. It made him sound like a God, didn't it? Like he was some agent of the All-Mother or her favored son perhaps. There had been a moment of trepidation in him because of the difference of their age. He remembered when she was a little girl running in the fields of the farm. But Malakay Hildedottir was a woman grown, now. A woman who had, in no uncertain terms, made it clear she had chosen him.

"C'mere." He gruffly invited with a grin and a tug as he pulled her body closer and covered her mouth with his. He drank of her lips and her breath deeply then, one gulp of her person before he dove into the passion, heat, and softness of her body. Malakay had said one night wouldnt' be enough.

He was going to prove her both false, and correct, at once.

For several minutes Tormund just kissed her, but when that was no longer enough to fully satisfy the Warlord Prince he drew her down into the grass beneath the moonlight. Without rush or hurry, he helped her pull up her dress while she removed his shirt and pants. Being naked in the dirt had never bothered Tormund; He had lived in caves and the open fields more than he had in soft beds for most of the last decade. Rough hands hewn by rock-climbing and wielding sword and hammer had given him a gravitas of being solid as stone, and that solidness explored over the milky curve of her hips, her thighs, her breasts, and her soft bottom. He kissed her still, but then made his mouth shift across the softness of her neck and the perky bud of her rose-colored nipples as he laid her down in a bed of grass. All the while he grew warmer and harder, his cock firm as the spear he intended to pierce her with as soon as he heard her breath hitching and he could smell her want.

But it wasn't enough to just pin her down beneath him and fuck her until he spent his seed inside her. He wanted to give Malakay everything he could in that moment and that was gentility and care as well as passion. So he drew himself down, left a trail of warmth from kisses and sliding his tongue along her soft, sweet skin until he buried himself between her thighs. He took his care to suck on the lips of her pussy, sliding the flat, strong, wet muscle along her clit before he dove it into the heat of her core. His hand gripped her breast and the other held her hip steady as he built her up toward a release.

His cool blue eyes focused on her face, intent not to miss a single gasp, whispered word, or insistent command.

But that slow build wasn't enough alone, and he felt her own want outstrip her patience. Her fingers -- the one with the snaketooth(!) grazing along his shoulders and then rooting themselves in his hair. Even when she urged him up he didn't refuse at first, until at last she tugged so hard it felt as if she might rip free some hairs from their root, and said in no uncertain terms she wanted more.

So he gave her more.

They took turns on who was on their back and who was atop. At first Malakay nimbly slid atopside him, straddling him and guiding him into her now enflamed, needing core with an alacrity that surprised him. She rode him hard then, not content to simply slowly find her pleasure. He was surprised at that, too. The shy and bashful girl was gone and the woman who knew what she wanted was emerging. He grunted and held on, guided her along her bucking pace, and as she took him in deep into herself he felt himself rising to match her lust.

He didn't let himself finish beneath her, shifting her about and rolling with her on the grass until she was on her back and he was able to fully plant himself atop her, his arms wrapped around her and pulling her legs around his waist. There, above her, he used the full strength of gravity thanks to his mass and his own power to hold her in place and pummel himself into her until he felt her start to break apart and felt himself lose control. He groaned and moaned her name into her ear as he fucked her; until he couldn't merely do that and had to slide his arms free of her body and posit them on either side of her face to give himself more traction. He rolled the whole of his hips into her -- a battering ram crashing against the gate of her hips and he stared down at her moonlit features; beautiful and perfect, even marred by the dirt in her hair, and pounded himself in hard and quick thrusts until he felt the fire of release burn its way from his sack all the way through his hips and then through that thick vessel inside of her.

He came hard and it caused him to groan and moan her name before he collapsed atop her, whispering how perfect she was as he kissed at the edge of her mouth so he had space to breathe. Shaky hands slid along sweat-laden skin to cup her face, and he rolled over onto his side to bring her to him for a real, true kiss.

It lasted until he needed air again (so, not very long) and when he gasped in a breath he let out a slow, deep laugh. "Our parents are going to lose their minds. They're probably already talking." He laughed again, shaking his head. He looked at her with a beaming grin -- the happiest she'd ever seen him, really, and he slid his fingers along her naked back to grip her ass and pull her against his side.

"Mmm.. go back now.. or give them something more to talk about?"

Offline Malakay Hildedottir

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #15 on: Nov 10, 17, 03:44:47 PM »
He might not have been a God, but in that very moment he was the only focus, the whole world revolving around one single man and her proximity to him. The pull had been strong the moment she laid eyes on him at her Offering, the path leading straight into his embrace. Calling her to him making the decision in the moment, she smirked, her body malleable in his large hands. They kissed until her lips felt raw and her mouth filled with the taste of his breath. She plucked at his mouth, pressing closely and drawing out every sublime sensation.  The way his hands roamed, the fabric of her dress wrinkling under his intensifying attention. It was a build up to bigger, and better things.

The disparities in their sizes were obvious, but she found that only drove her hunger all the more, feasting with her eyes before taking it all in, and she would, all of him, eagerly, rivetingly. Tormund drew her down on the grass, willing and wanting to take on the challenge before him as he did on her Virgin Night. Only things were  a little different now, and for once they both recognized it. The hesitant girl now longed voraciously for him. Having treated their first night with a sense of respect and duty that slowly blossomed into tender passions, Tormund was now privy to another side of her.


The hills and valleys melted into the distance, forgotten was the party and its guests, leaving only the open infinity of stars and the maddening sensation of his lips and tongue devouring her, the weight of his body, the way his muscles tensed against her explorations, her touch drawing forth grunts and moans that filled her mind and muddled her thoughts more than the Dhemlanese rum ever could. He drank from her fountain and she writhed naked atop a fine spun dress and the rich earth of their homeland. Tormund listened to her no to subtle suggestions and rolled her up atop him where the pale lady could dance beneath the cool moonlight. Her hands guiding his up to the perked tips of her rose colored nipples. Her tongue and fingertips brushed over his tatoos casting them to memory.

Nothing mattered in the moment but the heat of his breath, and the power in his hips as he wracked her body down to the last stitch. When she cried out into his shoulder, he would slow, pacing himself while she whispered his name and marked his back with small rivulets from where her nails had been. The deadly snaketooth never coming into mind, at least on her part. “More.”  she gasped. “More” she supplicated and the more Tormund gave. Malakay though was not without her gifts though, and she drew her hips up to face every crash of stone, and offered herself to the spear. Her lips offered delights as well as encouragement,  her fingers tugging and clawing at the Giant with the impetuosity of a Black Widow.

They feasted on one another until her breath hitched and his name was a deliciously desperate plea on her lips.   Thin sheen of sweat coating their bodies, as they glowed like the heavens themselves.  His arms came up and she knew he neared, her small toes sank into the moist grass, lifting her hips. They crashed against one another, as he rammed her gates relentlessly, her fingers  slipped around his wrists for purchase and finally his sock gorged, and released into the tight chasm of her swollen lips. Her own ecstasy coming into fruition multiple times before now clutched her within its hold. Her body trembled, gasping sucking in cool mouthfuls of air.  Tormund’s broad chest and hips dropped atop her and she nuzzled against his mouth her body shaking, trembling fingers coursing through his hair, pulling free a blade of grass or the bud of some weed.

They laid there for a short amount of time, simply breathing. Her braid was now demolished, tugged loose in places, stray golden hairs framing her face, or left  clinging to her small throat and neck through perspiration. He laughed and she smiled into his shoulder, and looked up as he turned. There were few things that held more beauty or brilliance than that smile. It gripped her tightly to see it so carefree for the first time in his life. Malakay would never forget his face that way.  Making a soft sound of approval, the lengthy stem of her leg curled around his thigh. Using the forearm closest to his shoulder, she propped herself up, small round breasts brushed his ribs while the other hand reached back , untwining the ribbon that held her braid in place and with a few swift, nimble movements, sent the curtain of sun kissed tresses to tumble down her shoulders. “They haven't shut up for years. Let them wear themselves out.”  She smirked, scooting up fluidly she leaned in close, kissing the corner of his lips where that smile had blessed her just moments ago. “I say we keep them talking. I moved out you know. “  The middle finger of her right hand trailed down the center of his chest, between the pectorals, sternum, bypassing ribs. She paused at the ripple wall of his abdomen before continuing slowly to circle his naval in leisurely movements. “About a year ago, I have my own space connected to the house, its own entry where I can study and experiment if I must.” A coquettish little smile darted across her lips meeting the rich olive of her eyes as she looked back to him. Lowering her chin to rest on his chest she continued the circular movements along his ink marked skin. “I hate to skip out on my own party, but I think I have a different kind of celebration in mind and the guest list is exclusive.” Chuckling  she rose up, extending her leg until she tipped to the other side of his broad hips and straddled his hips. A finger quirkled impishly, beckoning him to sit up with a come hither look.

Once he did and his arms were secured around her waist she draped her own arms around his neck, her face inches from his. “So how about it, take me home, we polish off my gift, maybe do a bit of unwrapping for as long as we can?” How could anyone say no to that offer?

Offline Tormund Skybane

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #16 on: Nov 13, 17, 02:48:33 PM »
Mal had a way of revitalizing Tormund when he had felt down in energy or sensation. She pushed at him to go to his back and he followed her urging. He followed her body with his eyes as she mounted him and sat her knees astride his hips. His hands moved to hers and at her beckoning he rose (and rose) up to a seated positon. Her offer was a siren's call and he was eager to crash into that shore.

"Yeah." He whispered, a grin broad and bright -- as if his teeth were stars to be guided by. "Fuck yeah. Let's go." Their parents would be mad, and it was incredibly rude to ditch the family that had showed up for her.

But it wasn't his family that had good grounds to be mad. Mal was an adult now and could handle herself. And after how good she'd felt, minutes before? To be offered some hot fire for his mouth and the rest of her for his body?

You're damned right he was going to follow here wherever she lead.

He would pull her up off of him, just so he could get to his feet. He conjured pants and shirt, redressing and quickly so, and would help her to her feet as well. Once she was clothed he grabbed her suddenly, picked her up off of her feet, and kissed her hard. In that moment he wrapped her in the strength of his kiss, his arms, and his Jewels, and once they were completely together he lingered in that kiss for a long, satisfying minute.

When he came up for air again he was dizzy, but knew his course. He let her down gently and held her hand. Her home wasn't far from where they'd come down from the mountain. The could run to her house in no time.

"Come on, pretty." He offered with a grin. "Lead me where you want me. I'll follow you wherever you want to go."

Offline Malakay Hildedottir

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #17 on: Nov 14, 17, 11:05:05 PM »
There wasn't much deliberation in his response. Tormund didn't try to talk her out of neglecting guests to spend more time with him. It was selfish, it was rude and it was exactly what she wanted to hear. Knowing her best, he would know that once the stubborn little girl of his past set her mind to doing something, she would get her way. So why the pretense if the older Malakay had enough time by now to perfect that art? The smile warmed her and she leaned into it, pressing a soft kiss on his hairy chin.”Fuck yeah?” She giggled as he impatiently shooed her off, leaving her to gather and dust off her dress while he summoned clothing.

At their haste one could mistake the rush as an attempt to slip back into the party unmissed, only they weren't going anywhere near it. Pulling her dress on she brushed the dirt and leaves off with a bit of Craft. Her hair could hang loose for all she cared.  Of course there ramifications to her absence, for one her mother’s wrath, who by now was probably beaming with joy that she had reunited with Tormund in the first place. It wouldn't last long once she came to realize that her daughter had absconded with their guest. She wouldn't feel guilty about it, this was her day, her Offering and she could celebrate it in whatever way she pleased. Familial responsibility be damned for once, she wanted something just for herself.

As if reading her thoughts, he had no sooner tugged on a new shirt when he swept ta large arm around her waist and lifted her up to meet his mouth with her own. Malakay gasped, a resurgence of energy filling her with every stolen breath. He wrapped her so tightly in his embrace, in the passion of that kiss, in all that he was that in that moment there was nothing else but Tormund. He had enveloped her, protectively, possessively the same way he had the first night they had together. Stronger this time, she reached out to him, not only with her body, but her Jewels and the emotion that poured freely behind them like waves onto a rocky shore. For one breathless, glorious moment they were one. It wouldn't be the last time.

When he set her down, she teetered on her feet, blaming the uneven earth for her imbalance and once again found him there to keep her steady. “I'll remember you said that. It might come back to haunt you one day.”  A beautifully rich smile blossomed across her lips, meeting her eyes and lighting her stardust speckled face. Taking his hand in hers she pulled him along the first few steps, laughing joyously before turning and leading him down the mountain like kids sneaking away from home, only this time towards it.

The addition to the house was not as small as she had made it out to sound, but it was welcoming. With its own entryway on the left side of the longhouse the hut was spacious. It consisted of two rooms, the first featuring a warm stone hearth, sitting chairs, a work table, and the aromatic phantoms of herbs and flowers. There was a large wooden bench with plush cushions. In the second room, though a small archway was four poster bed. The wood hand carved by artisans in their small village, twisting into tapered peeks. A shelf hung on the opposite wall filled with small trinkets and a plain wooden box carved by his father. Firelight danced across the walls. A window looked out into the crop fields. She wouldn't give him a tour or even long to study the environment, there would be time for that later. Instead, with a sheepish look, his lover would press herself against the wall and pull him close before shutting the door.

It was the following morning when Mal answered the thunderous pounding at her door that she had been expecting. Sliding out of bed, she slipped on a robe and greeted her very annoyed mother. From a few inches space between the door and the frame she apologized for her absence, and at her mother’s insistence, stepped to one side to give her a fleeting peek at the muscular inked male rising from the back room.  That shut her up quick, and all of a sudden as if by some miracle, the disaster that was her Offering party was inconsequential. Her brother, and Malakay’s uncle had managed to share his homegrown brew with all the guests, rendering half unconscious and the other half merrily oblivious to her absence.  Malakay smiled, it had been as she expected and before her mother could field further questions, politely asked to lend her some privacy. There were few times where this would have worked, this was one of those times.

Farms are a living, breathing thing. They require care and nourishment, tending and most importantly, attention. Lots of attention.  So does family. None of this was unknown to them. When they were able to tear away she would assist her mother or his, avoiding questions to an infuriating degree. This only seemed to draw their families together with speculation. It was entertaining to watch.  Tormund assisted the men in the fields, tilling, checking for sickness, moving supplies and every day he would sweat and work. Watching him filled her with both a sense of pride and a deeper hunger. They fed it in every given opportunity and in some creative spaces. A glance stolen at dinner, secretive smiles that lingered far too long when gazing at one another around their relatives. If she wasn't pulling him into her haven, he was dragging her giggling into it. Tormund possessed her thoughts, her body into aching exhaustion, as she did his. Release was sweet, but short lived and prone to repeat. Better yet where just the moments of silence, her head pressed to his chest, a newly selected tattoo receiving the attention of her fingers, his smile, so vivid and bright. There was no other choice but to accept that she was not letting him sleep in his childhood home, and his heat got her through the nights. “I don't want you to go. I don't want to.”  She confessed huskily late into the second night. Her apprehension of going to court weighed in her thoughts. ”So I want you to kiss me like every one of them might be the last.” It was a sobering request, but one she knew he wouldn't deny her in the dark where their secrets could stay between them.

From the crook of his arm where she lay, she swept her hair back with a hand and traced his lips with her fingertips. Melancholy gripped her so suddenly, so effortlessly that she couldn't help but feel its foreboding. Like a storm brewing in the distance she could feel the pressure changing. “Oh I have something.”  Calling forth her Psychic Cabinet she cupped something in her palm. Taking his opposite hand , she twined a piece of braided cord around his wrist, taken from one of the cat tail fronds that danced at the shore of a small lake on the property It was stripped into a slender yarn then braided to shape runic symbols of protection with every link, delicate silk filled the gaps in a polished ivory color. It hadn't taken her long to make but she had waited until now to give it to him. “So you remember to find your way back from time to time.”  He stayed, and looking back that was all that she had wanted. For a brief moment in time they shared something that was wholly theirs, and no one could take it from them.

Offline Tormund Skybane

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Re: Give Me a Shot To Remember
« Reply #18 on: Nov 17, 17, 08:27:27 PM »
Tormund had never felt happier in his life.

Sure, the days were hard work. Not as hard as climbing over the mountains and avoiding Eyrien and Glacian patrols, but farming wasn't someone did for a vacation. He had come home for the harvest and there was a lot to do. The days were spent in the sun toiling and doing labors that left him sore and hungry and at night Malakay let him feast on her body and indulge in a different sort of meal. Those nights were laborious, too, and so he'd go to sleep deeply with no dreams to torment him, and he held her soft body against his harder one as a comfort in and of itself.

His parents were a pain in the ass, his brother an even greater one. The former were happy for him. The latter was obviously jealous. So he ignored Vult and maybe, because he was a little petty, tried to fuck her a little harder if only to make the jealous little shit hear her.

He wasn't entirely successful, but it was an effort.

He was half awake when she told him she didn't want to go and didn't want him to either. He responded with a quiet 'Hrm', as talking about it wasn't going to change anything for either of them. It'd just be a fight. So instead he kissed her like she asked him to and ignored the fact that he'd leave the day after the morrow. He could play a little fantasy a little while longer and do his best to pretend that everything was going to end happily.

She coiled some keepsake around his wrist. It meant a lot to her, but it wasn't anything Tormund found deeply moving or something to appreciate. He could tell there were spells in it by the way it tingled against his skin, so the work beneath and inlaid in the object meant more to him just then. He turned to her and gave a slow, deep smile in the way that man who truly appreciated something gave. "Would be hard for me to forget where to go. I'd never forget the smell of your hair."

He leaned in to kiss her when a loud shout drew his head up. He lingered there for a moment, holding her, and then another shout came that was louder than the last. Tormund frowned and immediately slid out of bed. He reached for his pants, shoes, and a shirt, quickly pulling them on. "Stay here." He growled, but he might as well have been telling the wind not to blow, knowing her.

As they headed outside they saw there was a small gathering of their parents and the family. Her uncle was on the ground, covering his face. Standing over him were four Eyriens warriors, their wings spread and ready to fight.

At the head of them was a Summer Sky Jeweled Prince, his golden eyes looking up as he noticed Malakay and Tormund appear. "Ah. This would be the new adult of the family. Your daughter, is it not, Hilde?"

Hilde looked between the pair and back to the congenial Prince, nodding softly. "Yes, Prince Tolivar. And Leif's son, Tormund."

"Tormund?" Tolivar squinted and then smiled slowly, recognition dawning him. "Ah. You've grown up and grown out little Tormund!"

Tormund scowled as he came to rest by the others. Malakay's uncle was moaning on the ground. "Prince." He said curtly, just barely on the line of polite. "What's this all about?"

"Smugglers. Sadly, we've reason to believe Surt here is smuggling alcohol. Some of it used at young Malakay's Offering celebration. We don't think he's working alone." The Eyrien Prince managed a congenial smile still, all honey. "We hate to interrupt your evening. We know of the hour, but sadly that's the price that's paid for breaking the law."

One of the other Eyriens, a Warlord Prince who wore the Rose, snarled and kicked Surt in the ribs while he was on the ground. "Mayfly trash! Tell us who the others are!"

Tolivar spared a glance over his shoulder, letting out a 'tisk' sound, causing the Warlord Prince to look up. Tolivar shook his head slowly, and the Warlord Prince growled, but seemed to ease off. "Now." Tolivar turned to the others, shrugging. "I'd hate to have to take this man from his family tonight. If any of you know who was helping him, I'd rather go see to his conspirators and come collect him later. Out of respect to you and your service, Hilde."

The Eyrien Prince turned his eyes to the small assembled family, his tone soft and gentle. "Would anyone care to illuminate us, so we may be on our way and you all can go back to your evening?"

 

 

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