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With the full force of the Guilds at her back, Rilandra Vlas seized the Territory Throne of Dena Nehele. The common born Province Queen now owes allegiance to the Master of the Guilds for his assistance in both securing the throne and securing Darcia Glassade's continual safety. Trapped between the demands of the Guilds and the demands of the Aristos, Riley is struggling to rule, finding the palace more of a cage than she could have dreamed possible.
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Author Topic: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red  (Read 418 times)

Description: tag: Sibylla

Offline Niccolo Faa

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Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« on: Sep 21, 19, 02:24:49 PM »
Nick was very aware of the Palace.  Even when he was off duty, as he was now, he could not help but be aware of the comings and goings around him.  It was simply the way his senses had always worked.  His perceptions, when he dialed them open, was an orchestra of sound, a familiar and welcome cacophony of beating hearts and rushing blood.  He could feel people, friends and strangers, whether they were resting and relaxed, or excited and exercising.  A small tweak, and he could sense tendons strange, lungs fill with air, and the energy that ran along the nervous system of the living beings within the walls of the Palace.  It was easier to listen than it was to restrain his senses, so he did listen, he did know.

The secrets that such a point of view brought with it were safe in the Myos Journeyman’s memory.  He did not speak too often in general, and certainly he was not in the habit of revealing secrets that were not his own to reveal.  It was merely information to be stored away and parsed out over the course of days and weeks.  Nick could pick out individuals with ease now.  His skills had been refined through use and through exercise.  Where others trained his body and reflexes, Aleia Sala discussed Craft and theory with him.  He did not wear the Ebon Gray, but some of the practical examples still applied.

Nick had powerful friends.  Aleia was not the Darkest of them, and he watched them closely when they could be watched.  He watched and he learned, and then he watched some more.  It became obvious to Nick that the Territory Palace housed some of the Darkest Jewels in the Territory, including Healer Ariake, who had chosen his name and shared it with Nick.  However, Nick did not use that name often, as it was not for others to learn unless Healer Ariake wished it to be so.  Nick had earned it, others could do the same, it was only fair.  Despite carrying so many secrets, the Red Warlord Prince remained curious about certain things, certain people, certain topics, particularly when all of them combined into one person—one very alluring person.

Sibylla Traianus had come to the Territory Palace, and it was impossible for Nick to fail to take notice.  He had memorized that heartbeat at a party not so long ago, and he had been curious then, but preoccupied.  He was not preoccupied now.  He was off duty, and had every intention of going out to the training ground to stretch and work out the kinks of Escort duty.  He could and did stand around for hours, sometimes he even got to read, but he always did something afterward to relax, if he couldn’t relax with the acting Queen that is.  Cooking had been recently added to the list of things he did at the end of his day, along with his exercises, his training, and his art work.

Nick had every intention of working out, but then he sensed Sibylla in the Palace Gardens, and it was as though his feet took over.  He found himself going in that direction before he had consciously made the decision to do so.  It was not Spell or Craft that made it so, but instinct and terribly curiosity.  She was not Healer Ariake.  She was not lost in her own pain, or broken by her own circumstance, like the Healer was, like Nick himself was.  No, she was long lived, steeped in power, and his sense of her was that she was entirely complete, entirely in control, and entirely dangerous.  It was like a moth flying to close to a candle and the flame singing powdery wings, only Nick was not so delicate, and to him death was just another adventure, another step, another kind of existence.

Why should he fear a Black Jeweled Black Widow?  Respect, certainly.  But not fear.  In fact, he wondered if her Power made the world a lonely place for her.  Everyone was prey to her, she was the apex spider, her webs would be invisible to him, and all the more challenging and interesting to avoid if webs there were.  Nick was no one’s prey.  That was no pride in that thought, to him it was simple truth. A Black Jewel could scatter him into dust and send him swirling away in the garden’s breeze, but the Black Widow would know it was a predator she slew, not a supplicant, not a sycophant, not a fear-addled fly.  Nick was an interested party.  He had caught her scent here and there, but had been on duty or otherwise needed, so here was his first opportunity to get to know the Darkness given shapely flesh.

As direct as a strike to the throat, Nick approached the Black Widow, and bowed a few paces away.  Dusk was just settling over the world, and the garden was beautiful in the twilight.  ”Good evening, Lady Traianus, if I am interrupting, please do let me know, and I will depart.”  He would depart, but he would not like it.  She was not so far away now, and everything he had noticed at that party was very apparent to him.  Her presence was as real as a hurricane wind, and he found added strength in his curiosity and raw attraction that he could lean into that wind and stand his ground.








Offline Sibylla Traianus

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #1 on: Sep 24, 19, 09:16:40 AM »
Plants. Both wild and tamed they were the domain of many a Queen, like her mother that Sibylla once had which she seldom thought of. Lately, working at the Territory Court on a project that had been something of a lifelong study, the Black Jewelled trained Black Widow thought of Lady Violante Aelius much more often. She wondered what her mother would think of her, and her preferences. Especially for learning; the insatiable presence of her mind. For there was never enough for Sibylla. She always needed more books, more ... knowledge under her fingertips.

There were times that a good text or tome was just as good as a thorough fuck for the way her mind was turned inside out with new knowledge that she had not seen. Dene Nehele was somewhat like that, being here. Most people skirted around her, much as they did the other very dark Jewelled sorts, but especially her in particular because of the hints of Hayllian blood. Sibylla was a little paler than most of her own Long-Lived kind because her mother had been partially Tacean. Her golden eyes weren't exactly the kind of pure gold one went looking for to describe a perfect bloodline, but here in this place, Sibylla felt somewhat free of the usual judgement.

It was just of a different kind. In Hayll, she had spent much of her life hiding the depth of her power, so almost no one ever looked at her as if she really could make good on thinking them dead. Here, it sort of went with the territory. A tiny smile curled the woman's lips, both rueful and sensual at the play upon words. She had several plants infused with complex webs and her own blood. Already, the yield with only the strength of her power was practically astronomical results. She was pleased, yet ... not ready to share with anyone save for the Territory Court what she could do with these experiments. The full results would take years. Leaning forth, Sibylla smelled one of the Hayllian orchids that she was growing. There were roses and orchids, as well as a tomato plant, cucumbers, and peppers hot enough to make one dance about in eating just one.

"Hello, little rose," she murmured to the plant, her smile wide enough to truly be considered a grin. However, she felt the sense of a Red Jewel that was not her own approaching from a fair distance away. It was not until the presence of the power came out into the garden that her shoulders settled into a more ... formal repose. Sibylla straightened the black silk dress she wore, which for Hayllian standards might as well have been for an ancient woman. The modesty standards in Dene Nehele were another matter that she would never be able to adjust to. Wearing a gown the bared the breasts was considered high fashion in some places in Draega. Instead, she settled for the silk being translucent nearly all the way through the fabric, save for around her hips and breasts. As it covered to her neck and wrists with long, flowing sleeves, there was at first the pretense of modesty before she turned around.

The best part was perhaps the red and gold threads shot through the fabric that gave it the presence of a suit while remaining a gown. The back of the gown was fully bared to her waist, revealing cleverly tattooed vines. Her black hair, truly midnight in a manner than no Short-Lived person could possess, was tugged over one shoulder, but with curls that were absolutely not Hayllian at all. With a long enough look, it might have been apparent that the tattooing disgused a rich plethora of whip marks upon Sibylla's back, yet, she did not bear them or any scrutiny with shame or a sense that she was broken, even if there was a time that she had been exactly that.

If anything, the marks were proof that a person could become more than their pain and suffering.

"For a moment, I thought you knew me, but I suppose like many you simply know of me." She twirled about, golden eyes danced with delight. The soft, subtle scent of honey and mint tangled with the garden she stood in. "You are interrupting, yes. But I do not dislike it, and I do not desire that you depart. Rather, I should say I am curious and fascinated, and could likely use a break right about now." She breathed in and was suddenly surprised by what she sensed. He was not afraid. Her black, beautifully curved brows lifted faintly in shock. "A Warlord Prince, bearing the Red. Wonderful." She offered a curtsey, skirts sweeping around her ankles, only to reveal a pair of slits in the gown which revealed rather than her legs, but gold and red shimmering fabric. A subtle hint of the same previous pattern. The depth of her curtsey was just enough to honour his Caste being above her own, but her outranking him in terms of Jewels.

"Everyone here seems to have a penchant and preference for informal names. So ... rather than make a mistake, please. How do I address you, Prince? How would you have me say your name?" Her heels were a pleasant gold to match the hints in her gown and tapped softly when she walked toward her visitor. Sibylla halted when she was just outside of arm's length out of politeness. "You may call me Lady Sibylla, as well, if it pleases." Her speech was precise and welcoming of tone, perhaps just shy of what one might consider intimate, but correctly so, given that there were only the two of them there. In the next beat of time, she noted that he was attracted while not afraid nor repulsed. While she suspected she had quite the number of years on him, there was the feeling that had she been only Short-Lived, they might well have been of a similar age. It startled Sibylla, just slightly; her fingertips of the left hand flexed. Would he fight her if she pressed him against one of the walls? How hard? She couldn't help the series of thoughts that were unflinchingly lascivious, but Sibylla was well mannered enough to keep it all off of her face and out of her scent beyond the mere alluring presence of what she was.

It was likely, however, that she didn't blink soon enough when holding his gaze, that she dragged in his appearance visually for a few too many seconds, enough that even a White Jewelled Warlord Prince might have been Broken and still noticed the buried hint of answered desire. "What brings you to me, exactly?"





Offline Niccolo Faa

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #2 on: Sep 24, 19, 01:32:47 PM »
Nick was not particularly shy.  He was laconic, even silent, which was different from being shy.  He had been told by some that he could be eloquent when he wanted to be, but for most it was simply a waste of his time.  Sora and he had engaging conversations, as did he an Auntie Aleia for example.  Jeremiah and Riley could engage him as well, and Savi and Nick, being of similar minds, could dicsuss an entire day in words so few and so short that only they really understood what they were saying.  No, he was not shy.  He did not believe he was particularly forward either, almost all of his connections had happened because of other connections, like dominos falling, one leading to the next and then to the next.  The Pugilist was, well, The Puglist.  Even Asimov had been given to him through a joint assignment, and the Court Seer was the Court Seer, he had known her by being a member of the Court, and later because of something he needed and education she wished to impart.  Critical thinking was her forte, and she seemed to think that maybe it was his as well.  This might be the first connection he pursued on his own.

Women were not a particular challenge for him either, in that they did not make him uncomfortable, quite the opposite, usually.  However, this was the first time he was having a problem decided where to put his eyes.  It was not out of propriety, Nick understood Protocol, and had been instructed in etiquette and manners as well, it was more that there was so much to take in.  There was the dress, tailored to fit this woman, most of black silk, and at his approach, he could see that the woman straightened up to her full height, and the long sleeves were an elegant addition.  The fabric approached sheer, and it tricked his cat-like green eyes into trying to see more, even though logically he understood that he would not.  Nick could see almost all of her back, and he followed the line of her spine with interest, until the fabric stopped his observation just at the small of her back.  For a little while, he became lost in the tattoo of winding vines, exploring the way they interwove.  He noticed what they hid, the kind of scars that he should have, that he wore on the inside instead, and rather than detract from the image, it only drew him in more.  It was a conspiracy of details, and it only increased the Black Widow’s appeal.

Nick thought she could not possibly become more interesting than she already was.  Then the Lady turned around to face him, and proved him wrong.  For a moment, he was reminded of the Ebon Gray Healer Queen, and a logical part of him wondered if his attraction for these women was because of the danger they represented, or if it was biology absent of psychology.  It could even be the basic instincts of his Caste, but if that were the case, it was definitely combined with some element of his own psychology.  Sibylla was breathtaking.  If the danger she represented somehow made her more beautiful to Nick’s senses, it was something he was willing to ponder at some later date.  Once again, there was that hurricane wind, that perfect storm of temptation and absolute fatal risk.  Fear was never even an option.  He had his fears, and Sibylla Traianus was not one of them.  Nick responded with uncharacteristic wit and preparedness, ”No, I do not know you, but that is something we can easily remedy.”

He met her lovely golden eyes fearlessly, perhaps even foolishly, given that she was a Black Widow as well as Black Jeweled.  Nick’s nostrils flared, and his mind filled with the sense of her.  A Black Jewel could certainly block his perceptions as easily as closing a very heavy door right on his nose, but someone would have to be aware of his particular sensibilities, and even his perceptions were narrowed to an individual, they were not terribly invasive.  He could hear the steady beat of her heart, and the scent of her was just as soft and enticing a the silk of her dress was.  He was not quite overwhelmed by her reaction to him, by the things he read with his senses, he was trying to find the right word for it as she continued to speak.  ”I am pleased to know that I can remain in your company, I find that I am both curious and fascinated as well.”  That was the truth.  Truth was easier, and he had very little reason to conceal his interest.  He could see the light in her eyes, the small and subtle hints of surprise in her expression.  Sibylla named his Caste, and his Jewel, he had been on duty, and he had not masked his Offering, once again, there had been no reason to.  It was those words that allowed him to pinpoint the current of feeling running through him at this interaction; he was thrilled”I confess, that is a rare reaction to both my Offering, and my Caste.”

When she curtsied, Nick bowed politely, following the edicts of Protocol because it was the right response.  His eyes found the way the gown moved and parted for her legs, revealing still more fabric, rather than the curve of a calf, or the line of a lovely thigh.  He could not yet tell if he was disappointed by that or not.  ”Yes, that is true.  It was something of a surprise at first, but I have grown to appreciate it.”  The Red Warlord Prince’s first thought was that she could say his name in a whisper, somewhere very close to his ear, but instead he said, “Formally, I am Prince Niccolo Florian Faa.  For many reasons, I simply prefer Nick, or Prince Nick Faa, if formality is easier.  It would please me if you called me Nick.”  He inclined his head politely, ”Lady Sibylla then.”  He could not tell if he was leaning in slightly to hear her, or because she had her own gravity.  It did not matter to him, either way.  Was that a quickening of her heart beat, or was that his own?

Sibylla was quiet for  a moment, and unblinking, and Nick did not look away, nor flinch, nor break the silence.  He was content for that moment to have his eyes met, and to explore her golden gaze with his of bright green.  If it was impolite, he certainly did not see it that way, and if there was a strange pressure on his barriers, it was a weight he was willing to endure for the sake of his curiosity, and hers, it seemed.  Nick tilted his head slightly, just the barest motion.  He had sensed something more, and he responded to that mirrored desire in kind.  He took two steps, closing the distance between them, easily inside arm’s reach.  It was an easy question to answer, ”You do.”  He took another step, just one.  ”I would like to know you.”








Offline Sibylla Traianus

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #3 on: Sep 27, 19, 05:07:35 PM »
The laughter was brilliant but not at him rather than a complimentary tender laugh, the golden eyes all the brighter for it in doing so. Stepping closer to him as he had started the dance was easily done, and nor did she mask any hint of her, but rather enhanced the myriad qualities she possessed, so that he would not miss a single one. It was perhaps the warmest manner she had been received, the exception being the Steward of Dene Nehele.

Thoughtfully, she made a note to make an appointment to speak with Prince Jeremiah Mercer before returning her attention to Prince Faa. More, she drank in his presence, face, form, jewels, breathing, the way he seemed almost to inhale the scent of her mind in watching. "Niccolo Florian," she said, having moved enough to turn her head so that her lips were perilously close to his cheek but did not touch. If he were fire, she'd hold it in her hand and stoke it until he groaned with delight, blazing perfectly bright like a star in the night sky. "Niccolo Florian," she repeated, whispering against his neck. "You are sweet to come and pay me a visit, Nick," she finally said, hailing him exactly as he had asked after she had gotten enough delight in saying his first two names. She didn't know why she'd left off the surname. 

"I do mean that in case you think I am toying with you. I would only ever bite if you begged ... I mean asked me, beautiful Prince. Begging is maybe too soon for minutes of a meeting, even for me." Sibylla offered him her hand while yet smiling warmly - the one that wouldn't kill him with a touch - the left one, though the right fluttered close enough if he had the testicular fortitude to grasp it.

Of course, as was only fair she would allow him to decide, while at once thinking of the young man's safety. Watching him, shyness had never entered her mind as a quality, but she expected there were those that might have made the mistake. It was one of those thoughts as she mused over his potential qualities and decided that he'd do very well in her bed. They'd hardly introduced themselves, however. More was required in this place before she mentioned that she liked the look of his eyes, would he want to fuck for days on end?

"It is something we can remedy. I enjoy making friends ... but there are not many here that will approach me. I cannot blame them for their fear," Sibylla said tenderly, in a cautious understanding. "While Hayllians still hold their heads high even as they stab each other both in the light and the dark, Dena Nehele has wounds that will take much more time to heal. More than many of the people have to let them." She turned her head to look toward the garden and its loveliness, though the plants should have been thriving more than they were.

Appreciation flared in her expression in the way Niccolo met her eyes. Firstly, every witch liked to be looked at when she was confident in herself but even more so was this true of a Black Widow, regardless of gender in those rare cases. There were not enough people that looked her in the eyes directly that didn't hesitate beforehand. Prince Nick gained additionally in choosing to do so. What she couldn't be bothered with was false deference. "Isn't the warmth and excitement, or delight and respect what you would enjoy in receiving more often? Maybe just a breath of fear that you might decide to rip out a spine and wear it as a necklace?" The way she said the words was clear that she'd done exactly that at least once.

If he allowed her to have hold of his hand, as Sibylla did not presume that she could take something of a person even if she truly could have, the Black Widow would have started to stroke the palm he permitted her with the edge of her fingernail upon the thumb. They were long and today, tinted a soft, warm gold rather than the customary black. "Details are important, however. How is it you wish to know me? Is it pleasure you look for, a friend, someone to tell your darkest secrets? The answer very much depends on what I shall decide next, Nick. Unlike many of your fellows in this territory, I do not dance around the issue. I will take if I am asked to do so. Or ... shall I allow you the illusion of leading me?"





Offline Niccolo Faa

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #4 on: Sep 27, 19, 06:40:53 PM »
Nick was not a person that smiled easily or often.  When he did share that expression, even those closest to him understood that it was a rare thing and a product of his feelings in a particular context.  He was not always away that he did so, an so the expression was never forced.  Impassivity was his default state.  It did not mean he was entire calm and placid or impassive in his mind, but rather he processed his feelings differently, and that happened somewhere behind his bright cat-like green eyes, and not out there on his face for the world to see or to witness.  It was not pure logic that ran through his mind, though there was a greater amount of that than anything else, but that logic was being used to parse though so much detail and stimulus at a pace so swift, it did not leave room for wasted emotive responses.

So, when Sibylla’s bright and apparently honest laughter pulled the phantom of a smile from him, so slight as to be nearly a memory, he was a little surprised—and then she was so close, he felt entirely surrounded by the Black Widow.  Still, that did not worry or frighten him, it only made his curiosity a pointed thing, a demand that required satisfaction, and one he could not ignore.  Nick felt the beat of her heart as though it were within his own chest, the scent of her filled his mind and his body, and there was still so much more.  When she whispered his name, so fantastically and dangerously close, he swayed ever so slightly towards where her breath caressed his skin like mist fading before the rising sun—there and slowly gone.  Nick wondered if she had lifted his surface thoughts, plucked the imagery directly from his mind like a leaf from a tree.

Nick could not remember the last time he had enjoyed the sound of both of his names in such a  visceral way.  Absent of his surname, it was divorced from the various ugliness and stigma that normally came with it, and it was not what his Uncle had called him, but rather what his Mother and Grandfather had given to him.  She said it twice, and he took a slow deep breath, unaware that he was doing so.  Sibylla’s breath caressed his neck now, like feathers on a breeze, the words reached his ears.  ”It is my pleasure, Lady Sibylla.  I am pleased that I found you at an opportune moment.”  She called him ‘Nick’, and he found his mind turning back to those two words, his two names, and filed that experience away for later review.

The Red Warlord Prince tilted his head slightly, ”It never occurred to me that you might be toying with me.”  He explained honestly, while at the same time thinking that even if she had been, it hardly mattered.  ”There is hardly any reason for such a prevarication, when the truth is so much more facile in this moment.”  Nick met her eyes again, hearing the warmth and heat In her words, and the offer it implied, but also the subtle tease.  It was almost a dare, not in so many words, and he never believed it to be a bluff, but there was the question, the same curiosity that he had.  How far could this go?  ”I have the time to turn minutes into hours, if that is what is necessary.”

Nick took both of her hands without fear or hesitation.  He knew what was hidden, what hand bore the snake tooth, and what even the mildest scratch of Black Jeweled venom could mean for him.  There was a thrill in gently clasping Sibylla’s hands in his own, so much show that a shiver ran up and down his spin.  In a courtly fashion, he bowed over one hand, and then the other, his lips just barely brushing the knuckles of either hand.  Nick was, in many ways, a quick study.  Touch clearly appealed to Sibylla, and in this context, he could offer such as well as receive.  When he straightened, his eyes found hers, and he thought he caught a small quickening in the pace of her heart.

”Fear is not unknown to me, Lady Sibylla, I have my fears—but you do not number among them.”  He did not move away, instead still holding her hands, he remained where he was, never retreating from the Black Widow’s proximity, letting her stand within his personal space with possibly singular ease.  ”With so little competition for your time, it pleases me to know that I benefit in some way because of their fear.”  It was an odd tangent to take, but he was not unfamiliar with a Black Widow, or their tangents, and a Black Jewel likely saw far more than even he could conceive of.  ”Dena Nehele picks at its own scabs, and thus the healing takes longer.”

The weight of her regard was a powerful and intoxicating thing, and he wondered how well Sibylla knew that.  He felt that wash of pleasure that he had simply met, and continued to meet, her gaze.  It was silly to avoid it.  She could take from him whether he saw her beautiful golden eyes, or not.  She could pluck his heart from his chest, and the core of who he was from his very Chalice, if that was what she wished.  Avoiding her eyes seemed silly to him, as well as a missed opportunity to see this dangerous, deadly woman.  ”Details are important.”  He was very pleased by that simple statement, it always seemed obvious to him, so much so that he considered it very nearly to be an axiom.  ”I have acute perception for details.  I can summon up the first time I saw you with precise recall, down to the shoes you wore that night.”

Nick smiled again; it was less of a ghostly expression this time.  She had presented him with a riddle of words, and it was a game that he could absolutely play.  A dangerous game to be sure, but that only made things far, far more interesting and seductive.  The caress of her fingernail against against the palm of his hand elicited only the flaring of his nostrils, not one frisson of sudden concern or even fear.”I would rather that there be no illusions.  Once again, the truth is far more direct, and for more efficient for our purposes.  I do not have very many friends, and while it would please me to count you among them—it would be a lie to say that is what drew me to you.” 

Dangerously, instinctively, he did lean towards her, mirroring how she had surprised him, his lips near her cheek, his breath warm across her skin.  He had always taken direction well.  ”That you ask this of me is appreciated.  You could take what you desired, and even leave me  bereft of that memory, but instead you ask.  That has meaning to me.”  Now by her ear, ” Lead me then, and if I beg, I will feel no shame in it.”








Offline Sibylla Traianus

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #5 on: Oct 01, 19, 12:04:52 AM »
The lack of a tendency to smile was something Sibylla almost immediately noticed about Nick, or in her mind, the very lovely Niccolo. However, he was a brilliant star in an inky sea of Darkness, a shimmering heady red wine that would one day grow to be so much more than he was in this moment they shared together. As such, she echoed that smile he offered in her own way so that he would not feel the need to respond to the trained Black Widow in that particular fashion. She did not know if it was her own tendencies tugging at him as if she were an anchor and wished to be certain that was not the case.

The sense that the words of joy from him were pristinely truth allowed Sibylla to delight in that fact. "Good. I would never wish you to think such a thing, or worry. If you possess said capability then I would like to spend some hours with you and ..." she grinned tenderly. "We shall see what happens from there. Even if it is not, however, in this next period of hours, know that as our interests are very mutual that you will have what you seek from me." She dragged her thumb along his jawline to prove her point once more before stepping away, breathing in how he reacted to her without motion or with it. Her gaze was firm and sure in that way, making it plain that Sibylla was not the type to play a man or woman false when it came to a need for affection and sensuality. That he had taken both her hands soothed such an ache in her, that if she had not already made her decision that he was more than acceptable, she would have then and it shimmered in her eyes.

"You do not fear me," she murmured again, lips lifting into a little smile all for herself. "Perhaps there may come a moment that you understand even more how much of a gift that is for me if you do not already." She tilted her head when he spoke of her attire the first time he saw her. Sibylla had been anxious and a partially blooded Hayllian Warlord Prince had drawn her own. It had not even been her intention to appear at the party. This then seemed to be a lovely consequence of said previous moment. "I see. Then I am pleased to have been a welcome memory for your gain," understanding that she must have been in some manner precisely that.

The younger man was taller than she was, and Sibylla found that she liked the way he leaned near. It made her feel soft and feminine rather than only the truly dangerous person that she was. "I will always ask for what I wish to possess, even for a little while, even for years at a time. So I must ask you further as I complete my work here," and very neatly she turned away from him to put away the complex pieces of her experiment, taking a variety of quickly scrawled notations written in a precise and almost loving hand. There was no sense that she had forgotten Nick, however, in fact, it was exactly the opposite as if her focus even while not looking at him had tightened.  "There will be those that do not approve of my interpersonal relations with you. I have a considerable amount of experience that you do not, despite my youth as a Hayllian woman. Have you blood kin or any guardian that might have an overblown idea of their need to protect you beyond what you permit? Moreover, when precisely did you make your Offering and how long has it been?" She studied Nick with a studious, very serious gaze - one that still could not hide away her interest.

"I cannot always read the Short-Lived so well, but I am a quick study." Waving a hand, the plants and their pots vanished with only the weight of her Red Jewel, leaving Sibylla with a distinctly large pile of books. "Next stop, to the library, if you do not mind?" Though her focus just then was scholarly, it was more than clear enough that she had by no means forgot that if she made him beg, then he would feel no shame, but also delight in being led. The knowledge of decades of sensuality shimmered in her golden gaze, and leaning close once more Sibylla waited for that tell-tale relaxed tension that indicated that she could touch him further. It was then that she kissed Nick's cheek, slowly, and lingered over that very minuscule expression to show her appreciation for his presence alone with nothing additionally offered.

"Thank you, Prince Niccolo Florian, for visiting me."

She followed it with a brush of lips to the Warlord Prince's neck.





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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #6 on: Oct 01, 19, 11:12:25 AM »
Nick did not know what others would have done under the full regard of the Black Jeweled Lady.  He knew that some would be afraid, no, many would have been afraid.  He knew that others would have felt intimidated, feeling the weight of her presence upon their shoulders and upon their mind like a  millstone about their necks.  He understood the power that she wielded, but he did not see it in the same light.  His Red did not crack under Sibylla’s focus, but rather endured, and Nick was neither afraid nor intimidated.  Sibylla could press her will on all of the Dena Nehele, hiding from her as an individual just seemed a wasted opportunity.  He was curious, even thrilled, and found that he wanted more of her attention, not less.  Nick considered that he was the moth and she the fire, but if he got burned, the choice will have been his own—and what might that fire feel like?  What might it taste like?  What scars might it leave before it was done?

“I do.”  He reassured her that he did, indeed, have all the time they could want.  Hours, at the very least, perhaps more.  Sibylla explained to Nick that their desires and curiosity seemed to align.  He had gone from a red planet orbiting her black sun to something far close and more personal, something less celestial and far more earthly.  ”Whatever time you can spare is more than appreciated, Lady Sibylla.  That we share common interest pleases me beyond what simple words can convey.”  This was true.  The entire experience had not only a primal appeal, rooted in what Nick was, but it also had a very real, very visceral and emotional allure that he could not deny, rooted in who he was.  He found her fascinating, and wanted nothing more than to explore that sense, and everything that went along with it.  ”I have no doubts about you, Lady.”

Nick heard those murmured words, and he was far too alert, and to focused on the Black Widow to miss their import.  It was written in her small private smile, in the blush of her cheeks, and the flush of her body.  It sang in her scent, psychic and mundane, causing him to briefly close his eyes to absorb all of the stimuli that her close proximity and presence offered all of his senses.  ”Perhaps I understand a fraction of how you  feel, Lady Sibylla.  I am not unfamiliar with being feared.”  Like the Black Widow, he always noticed when people were afraid of him, or better, when they were not.  Respect was a different thing, you respected the edge of a cliff, you respected a blazing fire, because you knew they might cause you harm.  A Warlord Prince was similar, they should be respected as the danger they are, but in the end, they were still human, and starved for interaction as much as anyone else might.  As much as fear could create opportunity, it also denied them.  ”A very welcome memory.”

”In the days before I came to the Territory Court, being asked to give of myself was not a thing that happened.”  The Red Warlord Prince explained in his quiet, even way.  ”Instead, things were taken from me.  I have reason to believe you understand that as well.”  Nick’s hand rose to the small of her back as she turned, a very light touch that traced the lines of her tattoos, but also found the faint scars.  His touch was light, and gentle, and even as it slowly glided along her spin, it clarified the idea that he believed they had still more in common than either might realize.  Nick did not feel dismissed when she turned away, instead his eyes explored the line of her back where his hand had so very recently been, and he could still feel the welcome weight of her regard.  He swayed closer to her, and tilted his head at her concern.  He considered the question, and did not rush to answer.  Then, he slowly shook his head, ”There are those that I belong to, happily, but none that will assume that this was anything but my own choice.  I have no surviving blood kin.”  That last is made with a  certainty that is full of implications.  ”I delayed my Offering to be certain that I had full control, when a nobleman sought to steal my choices away, I had my Offering so that I might be emancipated.  I chose to remain and serve in this Court.”

Nick nods, understanding her meaning with regards to the short-lived, ”As a representative of the short-lived, I fear my life has been unnecessarily complicated by dark circumstances.”  He nodded, ”I know the way to the library from here very well.”  She moved very close then, and by instinct, his hand again rose to almost embrace her as it came to rest upon her bare back.  It took a real effort of will not to press her close against him there and then.  Unbidden, a hungry growl vibrated deep in his chest, the source the equally hungry beast that all Warlord Princes carried within them.  The sound was soft, low, and resonant when Sibylla moved near.  She kissed his cheek, and he pressed slightly into that lingering connection.  ”You are very welcome.  I assure you, the pleasure is mine.”  He replied in something approaching a whisper, the tone very warm.  ”I will help with your books.”  Sibylla kissed the side of his neck, a brush of her lips really, and the hand that rested on her back already drew her closer still, the light between them disappearing.  Nick sighed to hear his names spoken in such a way, and very slowly, very reluctantly, he stepped away from her.  The Red Myos bound the books in a shield and picked the pile up, his arm bent around the stack on one side.  He then offered Sibylla his arm to escort her, letting her take his left arm with her right hand.

The library was not too far away, and from there, they could go where ever the Lady wished.  Nick walked with her as though she were a Queen, aware of their surroundings and who might be around or ahead.  It was clear that in this, he was her escort, defender, and protector.  He doubted that anyone would intercept them, or otherwise interfere with their progress, but that did not keep him from doing what he felt was his duty to his companion.  Once the books were dropped off, placed on the table where the Librarian could find them and return them to the proper shelves, Nick returned to Sibylla, and offered his arm once again, to await her guidance from there.








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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #7 on: Oct 04, 19, 07:44:34 PM »
It was those that responded with overreacting fear that made the Black Widow somewhat melancholy and missing Hayll among other details. Prince Nick's reception of her was different in an exceedingly flattering fashion to them both. It seemed to her a waste of effort to stretch out her power for those that did not deserve it. The training she possessed allowed a much greater responsible range, that she had been very blessed to receive. Not all moments had been those of suffering, and it pleased her immensely to be able to look back on such moments with relief. More, that the young Warlord Prince did not doubt her won him further appreciation.

"No doubts at all? Darling Niccolo, now I would say that you are intentionally flirting with me," the woman remarked with an ethereal amusement as if he hadn't been the entire time in any case. That centre place in her breast somewhere in the vicinity of her heart unknotted and Sibylla closed her eyes. It felt so good to be admired even for a little while, even though she suspected that if the young man had his way, there would be little enough short about the arrangement between them.

"Any Warlord Prince or even a Black Widow ... would understand some aspect of that feeling. Many of the Blood however that have not had interactions with Landen might not really see. It is all right, however. I do not require vast ... crowds to be pleased," she remarked in near jesting, "but there are beds that fit three or four that can be quite an experience," Sibylla remarked, then suddenly remembered herself.

This was not Hayll. Her cheeks flushed a bright red. While they stood in the Library, she stepped closer to Nick, deciding to rest her head upon his shoulder to speak, almost in recalling the first moment he had moved closer but minutes before. She was also careful of his Caste, not wanting to tease too much that it riled the man's temper. Just because she could disperse his existence with a thought did not mean it was desired. She very much more than noticed as well the manner of the way he arranged their arms for walking, and it pulled her senses around in circles before she could process it.

The difference had not seemed to matter that she had not required his protection, but the confident manner he had exuded in doing so brought another light smile to the trained Black Widow's face from merely thinking about it. She thought about the fact that he delayed his Offering for greater control. It was a matter she could empathize with utterly. Before her own, she never would have thought that a Black Jewel would be her path. It had been and still was at rare moments, a startling shock.

In peace and tranquility and a kind of exciting waiting as it were, Sibylla could have remained for hours just like that, being held, like a cat that could eat you on a whim of sudden hunger. However, the only meal she had in mind was that of learning further about the Warlord Prince. "You are fairly tall. I can almost pretend that you're the stronger one between us like this. I hope ... you will forgive my words. My home is different, very different in terms of the lines of acceptability and ... I hoped that despite the oddity of my phrasing, that you might be amused." Sibylla bestowed another kiss upon the opposite side of his neck, and cheek than she had chosen the first time. Like that, she remained close against the Warlord Prince. "However, I am more sorrowed for the pain you have endured, but pleased that you have survived it as best you knew how." Reaching upward, she stroked his cheek with that volatile hand, her right one, with such precise care. With the opposite, she coaxed his hand again to the bare skin of her back.

"Thank you, for Escorting me to the Library, and attending to my books. Before we leave this location, tell me a warm memory about yourself. Something happy to counter the painful matter so recently explained, as I'll suspect you have dealt permanently with those who caused your suffering, whether or not it was the intention?" There was no accusation in her voice, instead, it was all midnight tenderness. Understanding glimmered in her eyes that she allowed the Warlord Prince to see fully without any details held back. "I want you to remember walking with me ... in as much warmth as possible that has not yet turned to pure, blinding passion."

Certain memories and thoughts could be healing, but more could simply ease the way in getting to know another person. Reaching upward in a motion that almost seemed idle while being too practiced for that possibility, she brushed her left thumb down Nick's jawline first once, then a second time, and a third, basing her choices off of whether he moved closer toward her for more or eased away from her touches. Each one, if not asked out loud, there was a clear physical separation, a gentility in the way the woman said 'please' with her hands alone. With the third, she gained another sudden whisper of desire in her senses. "To the music room, from here please, but only when you are ready," Sibylla said only after he offered more of his truth, wanting to carefully increase the ache between her thighs, but more the mental stimulation and to ease her own skin hunger.





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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #8 on: Oct 04, 19, 10:13:04 PM »
Nick tilted his head slightly at the idea of flirting.  He was not certain that he was, but then, he was not certain that he was not.  It was not precisely an accusation, as it seemed to amuse Sibylla, but he would have to think about this moment later, and study the nuance of it.  She stressed his name ins such a way that it pulled his attention back to her, and the here and now, right out of his internal musings.  She had, however, asked a question along with the rest, and he felt it deserved an answer.  ”In some ways, Lady, doubts are just fears writ small.  I do not think fear has any place here, between us.”  That was sincere truth, because all he felt ws drawn and curious.  It was entirely possible that he was being seduced, but seduction implied a trick, a bypassing of one’s judgment, and Nick’s own perspective had put him where he was, no Sibylla’s.

”I am glad to hear that you do not require a crowd.  There is only one of me, Lady Sibylla, but I am dedicated once engaged.”  He was not at all surprised by her amused, (or was it bemused?) statement, nor was he put off by the implication, on the contrary.  ”A standard bed can be challenging for three, particular when it is time to rest.”  That had been a private moment in time, to be sure, but he did not think he had made any great revelation, not to this woman.  She would not be scandalized by his blunt honesty, a fact that he rather appreciated, along with everything else there was to appreciation.  She blushed, and he enhanced his sense of smell for just that moment.  He could practically here the tiny veins that brought the blood to the service of her skin, and the subtle way her heart rate increased just a touch, just a little.  She was so enticing.  She was a storm, an earthquake, a tsunami made of curves, soft skin, and hair as black as the Abyss and her own Jewel.

He moved closer to her then, when she blushed.  He could not resist that motion, as he continued to take her in, breathing all of her scents, mundane and psychic now, listening to the flutter of her heart and the changes he wrought in her body by just being there with her.  To Nick, she smelled of honey, pulling him into golden fields in his mind, and mint, to soft shade, trees and cool water, and some kind of wine, for the comforts of both night and a hearth.  It would have been easy for him to forget how terribly dangerous she was, but he did not, and that made everything so much sharper.  Nick could not read the warp and woof of her thoughts, or even get the a psychic sense for her in that regard, she was far too Dark, but he could read her body, her heartbeat, the curve of her lips, and the sigh of her breath.

Nick considered her words, ”Is there a need to pretend?  I know where I stand, and with whom.”  He shook his head, ”There is nothing to forgive, Lady Sibylla.  You do not need to mince words, or pretend to be someone you are not for my benefit.  My interest is you, and not a façade you might put up for public consumption.”  She moved closer to him, and kissed the other side of his neck, and he did not retreat.  She kissed his cheek, and he remained very close to her.  ”I am troubled by your scars as well, and I am also glad that you have gone through whatever that was, and made it here, now.”  She stroked his cheek, and Nick closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, heedless of the death that waited beneath one carefully manicured fingernail.  His hand went where she wished, and his fingers spread over the small of her back, his thumb stroking her skin slowly.

”You are very welcome, of course, Lady Sibylla.  It was my pleasure to do so, I assure you.”  He tilted his head slightly, considering her request.  A warm memory.  He had several of those, though perhaps those were not the memories she wished to learn of.  Nick nodded at the rest of her thought, and answered that question plainly.  ”All who were responsible directly, or indirectly, have perished by my power.  I am the last heir of my house, as a result.  It is what brought me to the Court.”  That much was a matter of public record, what was not public was the kind of memory that she was asking him to supply.  He had to think about it for a long moment, even as he gazed unflinchingly into Sibylla’s eyes.  ”I do not see how I can remember you in any other fashion, but I will answer you.  My first breakfast here, with the Queen, Riley, and the one who is her Steward, Jeremiah Mercer.  Without a need to ask, without any hesitation, they cooked for me, gave me a warm meal, the first of many in their company.  I remember it fondly.”

Nick pressed Sibylla against him with the hand that remained on her back.  It was gentle but certain, and he let her caress the line of his jaw each time that she wished to.  He breathed a long sigh, clearly breathing her in once again.  His nostrils flared as he did so, and he gave a small nod at her request.  ”I know the way.”  Once again, he took up the position of escort, at her right, though this time, before he fully disengaged from their partial embrace, he leaned down and nuzzled her in turn, his lips brushing her skin, as he sampled her scent in every way that he could.  He straightened slowly afterward, as if reluctant to change his posture, but doing so anyway.  Nick led her unerringly to their Conservatory, and the piano and other instruments within.








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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #9 on: Oct 05, 19, 02:16:38 AM »
As it was, she found this particular Warlord Prince fascinating and perhaps briefly mourned her ability to experience him without the Jewels she possessed. A predator indeed. As such, she felt inclined to linger just a little to speak further with him. A warm shiver travelled through her and for a moment she imagined herself kissing him senseless here, and of course, being a Warlord Prince, he would have pushed back just as hard with his passions were the mood a suitable one. It shocked Sibylla's senses to want for such a man, but neither did she shy away. "That is a well-formed rebuttal. You have caught me in an attempt to wrap my words around you, not that I ever would have hidden it deeply. Such play is no fun if the partner cannot see."

She grinned widely at that moment he spoke of dedication. "I cannot imagine many well-taught Warlord Princes ... or those of the Blood at all who lack dedication. There is however a range ..." she stilled as Nick leaned closer to her, allowing him the time to immerse himself in the fullness of her presence that she permitted loose particularly in the public spaces. As a younger Hayllian, there were still pieces of the very, very youthful woman that remained and had not been torn from her by circumstances that were more unfortunate than pleasant. Well aware that the man was trying to get a further sense of her, she stepped closer. Sibylla's fingertips pressed to one of his hands once she ceased stroking along his jawline, something she did for several moments.

When he spoke of being herself with him rather than offering a polite version to suit what she believed he needed, her smile crept back out of hiding yet again. "Very well, and no, I do not think it is required or needed in most situations. Pretense only causes confusion and often a reason for anger." Her lips curved upward, and there was a sense of a deep well of rage.  "My scars," she said in a tone as close to neutral as he had heard from her until that moment. Then, the tension in her diffused utterly when he leaned close enough into her hand, near heedless of the potential danger, or at least enamoured with who and what she was enough to trust that harm would simply be another path. Sibylla's breathing hitched at such fearlessness but as well, she listened to him explain such personal matters.

The Black Widow bit her lower lip, unwilling to draw her gaze away from him despite the difficulty of thinking about how she had received those scars. It had taken so much time to put her back together after that time, mentally, physically. "Then I am pleased those that offered you harm have returned to the Darkness. I am, however, saddened that they could not be what they were supposed to for you, and perhaps one day, the ties you are making now will be even greater than they are at this moment." She allowed Nick very, very close and lingered there for a while. "Prince Mercer is a good man. I like him very well. This story pleases me very much and I do thank you for choosing to share it." When he pulled away, Sibylla was so tempted to pull Nick back against her that she gasped; it was soft enough that only he would have heard the quiet sound due to proximity.

It was so important to Sibylla however, to woo him, even if it was not required in any fashion, even though he had already said and indicated yes, that they both felt desire. As they walked, she fell silent waiting until they might arrive at the Conservatory to speak further while thriving on the deepened tensions between every single step. She allowed the man to lead her, every step of the way, falling easily into the expected pattern between a male Escort and a female being tended to by one regardless of Jewel strength.

Once inside, however, that formality shook off like a cloak just enough to recall that space where instruments were kept was for anyone that wished to enjoy them. For the moment, it was in Sibylla's mind, safer. It was a beautiful set of rooms, Sibylla decided, even if by Hayllian standards it was akin to what the least of the Hundred Families could claim to possess. She delighted in it in part because Niccolo had escorted her there, and there was something a little more honest in having wealth for much more limited a time period. Such moments made her recall stories of her own short-lived ancestors fondly.

Only once he seemed satisfied did she move away from Nick, but only so far as to seek out the concert harp with a brightened expression, and this, even as her eyes flickered over the pianoforte and violoncello. Sibylla seated herself at the harp without explanation, yet, it was clear enough in looking at her that eventually, she would have something to say. The lady leaned the instrument forth against her shoulder, eyes sliding closed in absolute pleasure. Her cheeks warmed in colour once more. One heeled foot eased forth toward one of the pedals as Sibylla's fingers raised, poised and elegant, then settling her gaze upon Nick she spoke, slowly while beginning to ensure the instrument was tuned well.

"I was born to a Light Jewelled Queen, who was only three-quarters Hayllian, and among the Hundred Families that are truly wealthy and powerful ... these are people that are beyond even the touch of a mere Aristocratic member of the Blood. The rest of her heritage came from Tacea. That is why I do not have a typical appearance. Slavers murdered her because she was my mother. She was ... a good, kind Queen and did not deserve to be saddled with me." The selection she played was the precise opposite as to the story told, filled with tenderness, careful and warm.

"They enslaved me as a child, and my siblings and I ... and I cannot say where my brothers and sisters have gone that survived as I have never seen them again," Sibylla inclined her head enough to make the statement and allow the pain of it to roll away like river water.

"Such things happen. It is all we can do to try and survive it. I ended up very blessed as someone found me and took me out of that place before ... I grew into myself. It was afterward that because Hayllians live for so long, it turned out that the male in question, my former owner was simply waiting until I had my Offering, but before I could learn to use my power. I was worth so much more, you see. It is better perhaps for now, I tell you that as a young girl I had to re-learn how to speak. When one is broken inside and it is not the Jewels, there is much than can be healed." More than anything, she was very proud of herself to have been able to want to heal and become more than only pain.

She had begun to play to keep from freezing the room; Sibylla maintaining her control was a life and death ride for those around her. "He flayed me because I said no, but I am thankful he did not find me until well after I was an adult." A soft chuckle followed the pattern of the notes. "So I shattered his hand and skinned him to keep him from using the control ring for the collar upon my neck. Vicious, I know. Tattooing and healing ... helped. It was ... I do not think unsightly is awful enough a word."

It was clear she was leaving pieces of the tale out, but even that, Sibylla explained, keeping her attention upon Nick. "Every trauma we face is a horrible thing. I leave out some parts in this because I did have some happiness, yet if there are ... details you wish to know, I could explain. Later, perhaps." Thereafter Sibylla fell silent to give the Warlord Prince time to attempt to process what he'd heard if it was needed, time to speak himself as she did not care for filling a space with only the sound of her own voice. Slavery in Dena Nehele had been one matter, but Hayll was several times worse even with the myriad rules in place to protect accidents from occurring.

More, she'd have allowed him as close to her as he wanted to be. She played the piece of music once, then twice more before halting, leaving the last notes to echo well-appointed space. Her expressive golden eyes dropped to his mouth and once more all she could think about was kissing. Carefully, to avoid ending up gripping the instrument too hard, she set the beautiful harp back in its place then used the smallest scrap of power from her Black Jewel to cleanse the room of her psychic emotional residue. This politeness did not change of course, what Nick could note from her skin, standing near, or touching.





Offline Niccolo Faa

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #10 on: Oct 05, 19, 11:07:20 AM »
Nick was not unfamiliar with the sensual, the idea that one could live in one’s senses and simply enjoy what such a thing offered.  He was aware of his own enjoyment of such things.  He was aware of the women in his life that did the same, all of them in very different ways.  Nick did not flatter or flirt, he did not attempt to subvert their perceptions or seduce, but he did know when there was sparks, when there was chemistry.  He knew when he and someone else came together that there was potential for something more.  Once he had found that path, he let himself walk it, following it until he arrived at whatever the outcome was meant to be.  Nick had not truly expected to feel such potential with Sibylla, he had no preconceived notions when he sought to speak with her.  He had been drawn by something primal and naked, and not he remained for so much more.  It was as enjoyable as it was surprising.

He chased new things, new sensations, he collected and catalogued them as a means to improve himself.  Nick had attacked a dangerous man to send the message that he was not unaware of him, and then to show that he was not afraid.  He had paid in blood for that, and he had learned how far he could push.  He had taken a beating that might have killed another, or forced someone else to surrender long before he admitted defeat.  That had been a new sensation.  He had lost the fight, but he had chosen the fight, and been shown what he was and was not ready for.  He had learned, and he was better for it.  Nick did not learn fear from that engagement, but rather patience.  Fear had not served him then, and it did not serve him here, was served him here was pure and honest, it was primal and hungry.  It was sensual, and ran deeply between them, like invisible threads of tension and certainty.  ”I have merely replied with honesty, Lady.  Life is uncertain at the best of times, and direct statements are efficient.”

Nick tilted his head slightly, ”I am trained well enough, that is true.  I was determined even at my worst, and now my range has only improved.  I have my limits, I am sure, but I have yet to run into them headlong.”  What would that be like?  To let the chains slip, to pass time with someone that he could not hurt, to give all that he could give, until he could not any longer.  In this arena, it was not a beating that he was risking, that was just damage to the body, and something he was familiar with.  Flesh was just flesh.  Here he risked something more, but he might also gain something more.  It was like taking a hit in a fight so one could land an even more telling blow, high risk, high reward, is the logic.  What might his reward be here?  She moved closer to him, and Nick held her there, finding the pressure of her body against his more than pleasing.  It was a dance, and Sibylla was leading, and he only became more curious about where they might end up.  He enjoyed her touch, never shying from what Sibylla offered.

He heard the change in her tone, felt the tension in her body, and the change in her biology.  He felt her rage, and knew it, recognized it for what it was.  His embraced tightened.  It was a subtle thing, but Nick had the senses for it as well as the perspective, and she was so intoxicatingly close.  Nick almost apologized for the intrusion of the question.  It was easy to forget that he was dealing with someone so much older than he was.  It was entirely possible that whatever had caused those scars was very far behind her, and that she disliked the reminder of them, but she relaxed so swiftly when she touched his cheek, and so did he.  Nick noticed the change in her breathing, and found pleasure in being able to affect her so.  ”I hope that you are right, Lady.  I have less reason to trust than most, but if I do not make the effort then those that locked me away in the dark will have their victory in death.  I will not do that.”  Nick leaned down, speaking now by her ear, his cheek pressed lightly to hers.  ”Jeremiah is my friend.”  It is a simple and meaningful statement, as he has so few.

Nick sensed her desire to be close to him, heard it in the gasp when he necessarily pulled away, and for her, offered a small smile; promise that they need not be too far apart for ttoo terribly long.  He walked with her as he would any of those that he considered his.  She may or may not remain so, but she had earned that much since their meeting.  He would protect her, not that he expected trouble, but he would because she was worth his effort, his guardianship as well as his regard.  She was sharing something important with him, and he would understand it later, or in the days ahead, but he sensed it and gave the moment and the Lady the respect that she had earned from him.  Nick liked the Conservatory, and it seemed to him that so many of the important moments in his life had been touched by that place, and the music that came from it.  It was a crossroads, and it seemed that music was the universal as philosophers had claimed for ages.

He watched Sibylla look around the room, and could see her appreciation for the instruments contained therein, until she came to the harp.  She took a seat there, and Nick followed her, standing behind her as she pulled the harp to her shoulder.  He stood there, feeling her, his expression calm, his bright green cat’s eyes bright.  Then she spoke, and Nick listened closely, because this was the moment, this was what she was sharing.  He had not been certain if he would receive an answer to his question, Nick typically gave as he received, and he did not expect that in turn, but Sibylla answered.  She shared her pain, and that was a precious thing.  He did not interrupt her as she played, or as she spoke, but he raised his hands to the sides of her neck, gently pressing his thumbs there, and allowed just a hint of Craft to trickle into his hands, to enhance the touch he offered.  Slowly, as she spoke, he caressed her back, and to show her that he did not find her scars ‘unsightly’ in the least.  Nick was careful to gently trace each one.  Her story, sadly, did not feel unfamiliar or alien or shocking, and he rather wished that it did.

Nick leaned against her back, his arms sliding around her with the kind of certainty usually not exercised in so short an acquaintance.  He pressed his lips to the side of her neck this time, and he spoke to her softly.  ”My Mother did not deserve me either.  She died at the hands of my Uncle, Julian, because he was jealous of me and my potential.  I recognize that is not my fault, as I hope you do with your Queenly Mother, but it is an easy trap our minds set so that we blame ourselves.”  He took a breath, his hands still trickling gentle, sensual Craft, moved over her sides, and then her belly, embracing her against his chest.  ”We have discovered that we have more in common.  I wish that it were not so, that if one of us had to suffer, that it was me.”  It was an honest declaration.  If Nick came away with anything from his experience, it was his belief that no one should have to suffer as he had, and that he would protect others from such if he had an opportunity, but Sibylla’s experience was older even than his own.  ”I am also glad that the author of your torment has been ended.”

His hands continued to move over her, seeking to dispel the tension of her body, something that he had learned in his time as Escort to the Interim Queen of the Court.  ”Thank you for telling me this.  I understand that you did not have to, and appreciate what it means, now that you have done so.”  Nick made a soft, warm sound against her skin, something between a purr of pleasure, and growl of want.  ”I do not need further explanation now.  Whatever comes later, I will welcome when and if it happens.”  Nick lifted his head from the vicinity of her shoulder and neck, where he had nuzzled and kissed her skin.  One of his hands rose to gently touch her chin, so he could shift to one side, and meet her eyes from an intimately close distance.  ”Where should we go now, Lady?”











Offline Sibylla Traianus

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #11 on: Oct 26, 19, 10:06:38 AM »
Sibylla found she was of two minds but mostly distracted by the way Nick's sweeping touch soothed her skin hunger. Every moment she spoke, she felt more balanced and at ease than she had been in a while. Really, since coming to Dena Nehele. Moreover, she could feel the heated sparks between them that as the minutes passed practically lit the air on fire. However, she did not think they wanted each other nearly enough. There was not enough of a tremble to her body when she thought of Niccolo, indicating that while she had a desire for him, she had not learned enough to unfold more of herself. "Thank you ... for being honest with me," she replied softly. It mattered a great deal to her when people told the truth, Blood or Landen. Particularly, Sibylla noticed that Nick did not shy from trying to soothe her in a subtle form as her rage had once filled the room. Now, she had cleansed it completely from the space lest someone enter and as a result of the residual emotions end up feeling very afraid, but just then the feeling was a deepened satisfaction in considering how he had persisted in not calming her, but making certain she was in a place of acceptance for her pain.

She did notice the faint hint of possessiveness as she remained near Niccolo, at least from her viewpoint, and more than that her body tightened a modicum as she continued to peruse continued thoughts of what they would do next. More importantly, she pondered what they would do after lingering the conservatory. A gasp eased from her in the way his arms slid around her while the Warlord Prince leaned against her back. There was such confidence at that moment which had been engendered with a discussion of each other's pain that her body tightened as she tilted back her head to watch Nick. The Black Widow couldn't help but stare at the Red Jewelled male, her breathing shallow and more than intrigued.

That he too had lost his mother pained Sibylla and the truth of that flashed across her face sharply. She felt an ache for him because at least she had been able to enjoy her own mother to the point of some reality for them both. Worse, his own family had caused the deliberate death of Nick's mother. Her eyes shimmered with tenderness for him that she was uncertain what to do with as he did not seem the type to weep. Eventually, however, she whispered. "I imagine you are not the kind of man to cry in front of others at least, so I will cry for you," she explained as several tears eased down her face freely and with a loving mode that was uninhibited. "For your mother, and all the tenderness that you could have received and never did." After granting such an intense, intimate gift, she very lightly kissed Nick's cheek intending to be brief but found herself lingering somewhat close to his mouth unintentionally.

Sibylla turned her body toward Nick's, and the growl which rose from him sped her pulse a little more. She raised her gaze toward his, dark golden and green eyes observing each other. As Sibylla stared at Nick, the more she felt a shift toward wanting him. Just as of yet, she did not answer where she wanted to go, and just felt inspired to drag her hand through the Warlord Prince's hair, entire body tense as she did so.

"Nowhere yet. What was your mother's name? Will you tell me, can you speak it without vast pain, or do I pry too deeply? Mine was Violante. I share the name." She let herself remain close enough to Nick then that their breathing mingled together, close enough that she could have crossed the distance to kiss him but she did not choose to do so. What she did was lingered close like that, letting the tension rise between them enough where it finally pulled a whimper from her. "I am not sure where to go next ..." she began, then her eyes fell upon the couch nearby. Rising to her feet while allowing Nick's hands to remain upon her, she nodded toward the seating. "Right there. I would like to sit with you and talk some more." She laced her fingers with Nick's once her indication of desiring such was apparent and he allowed her subtle seeking of permission.

Once at the couch across the room, she sat at a slight distance from him, with space between only until she then chose to settle her legs across his. So she was close enough to touch. "I would like to know about your hobbies. Favourite colour. Food." She toyed gently with the Warlord Prince's hands, relishing the skin contact even though it was nothing more than his hands. Sibylla shivered after almost every brush of his fingers to her own. After a few moments, the Black Widow leaned forward and began to kiss Nick's fingertips, the palm of his hand. "I want to know your preferences in terms of ... kissing. Tell me about that. I realize that you could show me, but I wish to hear the words from you, Niccolo," she crooned, having shifted to massaging his hands very thoroughly. It had perhaps grown apparent that Sibylla's manner of seduction on this particular day was one of a very slow burn. She watched him with a passion and desire that deepened the longer they sat and the more she touched him. "Mostly, I want to hear what a kiss feels like to you. A Red Jewelled Warlord Prince. In trade, you may ask me anything."





Offline Niccolo Faa

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #12 on: Oct 27, 19, 11:39:31 AM »
Nick understood, instinctively, that all of the Blood were predators.  He understood they all carried the same potential for anger, destruction, and rage.  It lived in the female as well as the male, but it seemed to him that in the males of the Blood, it was a little closer to the surface of the skin.  He may not show it as clearly as others did, but Nick understood that rage, wielded it and contained it, but he absolutely felt it.  It was one of the few emotions that he knew well, that he grasped and understood.  It was Jeremiah that had refined that knowledge, Jeremiah, Striker, and even Savi.  The rage could be used, like a weapon, used to strengthen and sharpen precision, rather than exploding all over everything.  Even The Pugilist had taught him that, there was knowledge in every fight, even one that he lost.

He was not afraid of Sibylla’s anger.  That rage was not for him, it was for the enemies of her past, and he understood that intimately.  Nick had not feared her to start, he certainly would not begin there.  Instead, the Red Warlord Prince did what he could to soothe the woman, to encourage the Black Widow to relax into his touch, and his presence.  He reached out to her as though she were a Queen, his Queen even, with that singular focus that had earned him his secret name, the name that had completed who he was.  Sibylla thanked him, and for a moment he wondered how dishonest the world around her had been when she was growing up.  It seemed it was as full of lies and deception and false justifications as his own life had been.  ”You are welcome.  It is my preference, to be honest.”

Nick knew that it was not courage that brought him to Sibylla.  Courage was action in the face of fear, and for him, there was nothing to fear there.  He had been curious, terribly so, and now even that was changing into something else.  Desire had been latent, he had eyes, and Sibylla was beautiful and sensual.  He had seen that without ever having to get near her, but now that they were caught in each other’s orbit, or at least, he was caught in hers, because Sibylla was like gravity, undeniable.  He was beginning to understand at least a part of her vastness, and he was finding that it only pulled him close.  They shared similar tragedies, and Nick would always find comfort in that.  Terrible as it was, it meant he was not alone.  It was something to reach out for, and hold on to, as Julian, even after death, had tried to keep him solitary.  Sibylla gasped, and the sound moved through him as he met her eyes, unabashed about his attraction, and his need.  He let her see it, even if all he did was hold her there.

He cupped her cheek when she seemed ready to cry for him, even before she spoke the words, Nick could read it in her eyes and her expression.  He gently stroked the tears away, calmly telling her, ”It is not entirely by choice, that I do not cry.”  He tilted his head slightly, ”It took Queen’s Craft to pull the tears of a child through to the man.  I am better for it, I think.”  He did not cry, but he smiled a very rare, very gentle smile, touched by Sibylla’s reaction to his buried pain.  She kissed his cheek and lingered close, and the temptation was terribly strong.  Nick thought that he should turn and kiss her, maybe that was what they both wanted, but something told him to delay, to wait and see where this singular experience was going.  Instead, when her body turned to him at his growl, when she remained so close that he could feel her heartbeat in her chest, and the flush of blood beneath her skin, his lips hovered close to hers.  It was his turn to flush, his turn to blush with the heat and direction of his thoughts, but he waited, breathing her in, enjoying the closeness.  Nick held her gaze and waited for her guidance.

”My mother’s name was Maria, Maria Helena Faa.  She loved music, and she sang to me.”  It was an old memory, a buried one, recently uncovered and given to him like the gift that it was by his friend, Jeremiah.  She whispered a bit if uncertainty to him, as though her plans for the rest of the day had not quite taken shape yet.  As though she were waiting for them to do so, and maybe she was, she was a Black Widow, after all.  Nick could not pretend to understand what they saw in the potential of a given day, or events, or set of people.  He knew that they could see, or at least perceive what was to be, or what could be.  They moved to the couch together, almost an intimate dance, as Sibylla did not let him get far, and Nick felt much the same.  She laced her fingers through his own, and he held tightly to her, heedless of the hidden danger that rode beneath a single fingernail.

 Even when they sat together, she stretched across him, even as he slid closer to her.  Nick regarded her still, exploring her face, even as his hand gently caressed the calf of her leg, the other resting lightly on her thigh.  The hint of seduction craft continued over her skin, touching where he could not, caressing where he could not see, soft, slow and subtle, but undeniably there.  Nick’s eyebrows rose at her question, but he saw no reason not to answer, or once again, see where this would lead.  ”I run.  I run along the rooftops.  I test myself to see how fast I can get across the rooftops of the palace, or the city, refining my path each time.  Training, I suppose, is my hobby.”  Then he considered that for a moment, and added, ”I draw.  I sketch.  There is one hanging in Riley’s office, you may have seen it.  Jeremiah has another.  People seem to appreciate them.  I never told Riley I drew the one that she has, but she knows.” And here, a small smile that lasts a bit, before fading.

”As for color, honestly, I do not know.”  Nick looked at her, ”For now, it is the color of your eyes or the flush in your skin.”  An honest if transient-seeming declaration, as he could not honestly think of a color he preferred above all the others.  ”My favorite food is…any.  I am well fed now in a way that I never was.  Food was denied me based on my behavior. It was used as a reward and as a punishment.”  She shivered and took his hand in hers.  Sibylla kissed the tips of his fingers, and the palm of his hand, with a slow sensuality that made his back arch ever so slightly.  Another growl slipped from him then, and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a slow deep breath.  ”A kiss is a kind of promise, depending on the context.”  Nick tilted his head, ”Passion, Sibylla.”  He spoke her name without honorific, still there was a tone of respect, but the balance of the word was more loaded with desire than Protocol.  ”To know that in that moment I am wanted for no other reason than who I am.”

Nick leaned closer to Sibylla, and in a mirror of what she had done for him.  He took her hand in his own.  He raised it to his lips, her right hand, and he kissed her wrist, gently breathing across her pulse.  His lips pressed there and lingered, feeling her pulse with his kiss.  He brushed his lips against her skin, and kissed her palm, as she had his, but he lingered.  Nick kissed each of her fingertips, in the same manner, she had kissed him, only each one sent a line of kisses running along her arm to her shoulder with a small flutter of Craft.  ”It is easier to show than to explain.”  There was a small change in his voice, something subtle and hungry, something Sibylla had been tugging on, as though she had found a sensual thread of seduction, and pulled on it to unravel the control that concealed it.








Offline Sibylla Traianus

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #13 on: Oct 28, 19, 05:23:44 AM »
It was true that males of any type whether of the great fortune to have been born into a male body as who they were meant to be or those that had bloomed later regardless of the form they had been born in did carry their rage closer to the surface. It was equally said that women of any kind held a deeper and more frightening range of rage that could push males to the same, particularly Queens. Some that chose to align with neither gender might have possessed the traits of both. Sibylla had seen many types over her century of life and expected to see even more beyond what she had thus far. Niccolo was but one of these, and she enjoyed his presence immensely. At this moment, she wished to turn all of the rages within him that she could to passion while the Warlord Prince could maintain his focus upon the moment as well as herself. She more than appreciated the focus that Prince Nick offered her, even if she was no Queen and never would be and had not, to her mind, earned such tenderness.

That he offered it regardless was worth remembering for a lifetime or more. It was titillating, the tendrils of seduction that he sent out and she accepted each one, allowing them to warm her body even though the truth was that Sibylla would not have needed the stimulation. She eased closer as Niccolo did and rested her head upon his shoulder just at the moment that it might have seemed he would have sought her permission to claim a kiss. Her pulse pounded, but it was still not enough. "It is easier to show. That is why I want you to tell me about it, my Prince. I am not a woman that leans toward the easy. If I did, I would use my Jewels for everything, but I do not. So lovely, you are," she replied with a shiver. Now, she settled herself on top of Nick's lap, skirts folded with perfect elegance.

If anyone had chosen to enter at that moment, nothing would have appeared out of the ordinary, which was precisely the woman's goal. She wanted Niccolo to strain in his ache for her, while she persisted in pulling on the strand of silk that was the metaphor for his control over the beast held deeper inside himself. Not the beast to rend flesh, but the one that could grind his hips into a woman or a male for days and not yet see a true release of the spirit.

She leaned back against Nick, and gently tugged his hands only to sit at her hips - one on each side. "You could show me many things, I know. But I crave the words." Sibylla rested her head against his forehead. "I told you, I am not going anywhere. Show me your patience and passion at once. Do you think I did not want to completely rend your attire from your body when first the words were spoken? I have restrained myself so that I can want you the way you ache to be desired, and not only for my own sake and wishes." She smiled widely, her diction extremely precise and clear.

"I had chosen to lean as heavily upon Protocol as I dare to learn you even more deeply than I have. Lady Maria Faa, and you like the colours of red and pink, of burgundy and blood. Browns are a close range to those that you have named." She spoke softly against Nick's cheek, while her hands eased through his hair.

"I told you that this would be a long game, my sweet man. That when you finally do kiss me, it will be like the prayers you have never given to Mother Night that you should have. I want you to tremble for me, not in fear, Prince. But in the ache of want. Have you ever had anyone stir your passion to its pinnacle before your lips ever grace theirs? That is what I will do for you while we sit and learn with each other. There's no rush, darling. We have hours yet. So don't stop. That feels incredible. Show me your Craft. All of it." Sibylla's cheeks were pink from the layers of Seduction Craft, but she had yet to begin to breathe heavily, nor did she have the slightest inclination to open herself for the Red Warlord Prince ... yet. But it was there, shimmering in her dark golden eyes.

"Is Faa the name of your mother, or your father? More, what is your mother's mother's name?"

It might have become apparent what Sibylla was doing, as her questions focused on mental healing with little but words and tenderness. "You are so beautiful to me, do you know that?" She laid her head back against Nick's shoulder, elegant as ever, but she never once allowed him to move his hands from her hips after kissing her fingertips. Again and again, she'd return them to that solitary place. "Niccolo Florian, give me more words. But more than that, I wish your permission to return the sweetness you have chosen to gift to me ... but not yet. Only when you are fully stirred to accept what I have to offer and not a single moment before. "





Offline Niccolo Faa

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #14 on: Oct 28, 19, 01:28:07 PM »
Nick had believed that the curiosity he held regarding Sibylla was his alone.  It became quickly apparent that Sibylla was just as curious about him, and that they were going about the dance of getting to know each other.  It was not a dance that he knew well, and the Black Widow certainly had the lead, which he did not mind.  He was pursuing something new, someone new, and an experience that he should learn something from, no matter what happened.  Even death held its lessons, but its secrets were harder to grasp without actually verging on that final fate.  He did not mind following Sibylla’s lead, and that had earned him quite a bit already.  He had gone from wanting to touch her, to actually doing so.  He had gone from curiosity to desire, and seeing that desire echoed in the woman that was not so near he could feel the warmth of her body against his own.  Nick had already learned a great deal, and hoped to learn a great deal more.

It was an easy thing to focus on Sibylla, to let other concerns drop away in favor of focusing upon her.  He could feel that she appreciated that, in the way she touched him, and moved against him.  Nick she wanted to kiss him, and he certainly wanted her to.  He wanted to kiss her as well, and had said as much, boldly, but it was not his dance to lead.  She told him she wanted to hear his words.  Conversation had never been his strongest suit.  He listened far more often than he spoke, and that silence often earned his words more attention than they might otherwise.  So many people spoke too much.  They filled the air with senseless chatter that was hardly worth the air they used to utter them.  He had never been that sort.  Usually, the things that he said were carefully considered, even if he only did so for a few moments.  There were only a few people he could engage in casual conversation, or rather, as casual as he could get.

Nick nodded when she agreed with him, and again when she insisted that he tell her rather tha show her.  ”As you wish.”  He said to Sibylla, and listened to her speak about her Jewels, and her appreciation for him.  He favored her with a small smile, a brief mist of an expression that faded before the sunshine of her attention.  He could have said she was lovely also, but she knew that.  She knew what he thought of her, he had already said as much.  He had remembered the first time he saw her, and told her as much, and all of the reasons that he remembered were already in the air between and around them.  Sibylla shivered, and Nick knew that she knew what he thought of her loveliness, and the allure that was specifically hers.  She moved only a little, and settled upon his lap, pulling another low growl from deep inside of his chest.  His gaze flicked tot he entrance, but he doubted anyone would brave the scent of Red Warlord Prince thick and heavy in the air of the conservatory.

Sibylla leaned against him, placing his hands upon her hips.  His hands were strong, and they tugged her close almost without Nick having to think about.  His hips very nearly rolled against her, but he held that motion in check as the Black Widow spoke.  She rested against him, and once again, the utterance of her desire pulled a slight smile from him.  It was so unabashedly honest, a thing he truly appreciated from anyone, in any context, but certainly in this one.  ”A kiss then.”  He repeated her earlier request, his voice soft and low, but thick with the hunger she inspired, released by the control Sibylla was invisibly unraveling.  Nick was silent for a moment, the growl there again, low and soft, reverberating against Sibylla as they sat together.  ”A kiss should be a flash of fire, a teasing rake of teeth.  It should come with an embrace so tight, that it is easy to forget where one ends and the other begins.”  He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, and whispered this answer to her.  ”The rake of nails along my back, sign that they want me as much as I want them. Possession and permission all in one.”

She teased her fingers through his hair, her lips brushing his cheek as she spoke.  ”Red and black, like stars and planets at night.”  He offered when she spoke about colors and shades.  ”Patience then.  I can be patient, Sibylla.”  They were both predators, though it was Sibylla that was the ambush hunter.  Nick was far more straightforward, far more direct.  She was forcing him to change his tactics, to think even more about what he did before he took action.  He did not mind doing so.  She was his focus, for now, and he had always taken guidance very well, no matter the context.  It came with his memory, he supposed, the way he remembered everything down to the small details.  ”Perhaps I have already prayed and made my supplications to an alter, and Mother Night thought to send you.”  It was an honest rumination.  Who else but that great dragon could have given her such a Black scale, and sent her forth to cross his path?  Had Nick not been tested and found worthy?  Once again, Nick had to consider her question, and he answered with honesty, though he did not name anyone.  ”No, not as you describe it.  I have come close, but the passion was always a promise, a reward for whatever came first.”  He did not restrain himself then, he kneaded her hips gently, pulling her against him as his hips rolled very slowly.

Nick shook his head slightly, Nothing where you are concerned ought to be rushed.”  She moved against him again, the subtle threads of Seduction Craft doing their work, but then she demanded more.  His eyebrows rose at that.  He was always so careful.  Control had been taught to him, and thus far, he had only been using the Green, because Sibylla had allowed him to do so.  He kept it light and subtle, hoping to ease her and draw her in.  She blushed perfectly, and the demand held something of a challenge in it as well.  So, as she asked yet another question, Nick drew upon the Red, and settled it over every inch of her skin.  ”Cousin married cousin, both were Faa.  My grandmother was Helena, I never knew her.”  Nick used the Red to study her, to learn the contours of her body with the sense of his Craft, what she wore did not matter, as the Craft passed through it to her skin.  ”I do now.  You are even more so.”  She could feel his study of her form.  Where before the Craft was a subtle, teasing caress, this was the touch of a lover.

The sensation began as firm fingertips gliding over her skin, smoothing over her calves, lingering along the length of her thighs.  The feeling of being touched moved slowly along her inner thighs, as his Craft continued to move over her. That touch was bold, close to the center of her, but continued upward, and around, along her bottom now, and her belly.  There was the sensation of her bottom being messaged, even as a fingertips dragged upward along the line of her back.  ”You have my permission to do that and more.”  Nick declared this against the nape of her neck, his lips pressing to  her skin there, as he continued to speak.  ”You are a gift.  I can take my time to appreciate you, as long as you want me to.”  Fingertips dragged down her back, the very sensation he had earlier described as going with a kiss, even as the feeling of hands slid along her belly, to the line of her ribs, to cover her breasts.  She was cupped then, gently, teased slowly, and then that touch moved on, finding other places for her to enjoy, and returning to the ones she clearly enjoyed the most.  He was learning.

”Are we not both stirred, Sibylla?”  Nick whispered this, as he began to run invisible Craft fingers through her hair, unseen fingertips gliding over the curve of her ears, down her neck.  His real hand curled into the length of shining black hair, and he pulled slowly and gently, lifting her shin, as the touch of Craft moved over her throat, but these were not fingers, or caresses, this was the warmth of a kiss, a whisper of hot breath against the pulse in her throat, a tease of sharp teeth.  Nick pressed his lips to the space just behind and beneath her ear, and let soft skin tease that sensitive spot.  The Seduction Craft was unrelenting and endless, but not chaotic, it gave Sibylla enough time to process each and every feeling, to draw warmth and heat from it before he moved on.  Nick growled again, it was like feeling her nude, rather than seeing her.  Her would know here to touch her now with his real hands, as he became intimately familiar with the lines, the curves, and the shape of Sibylla.  ”What words could I speak to improve upon this tension.  I want to know you, in every way that you will allow.”

Nick whispered against her ear again, ”I will not break under the weight of your regard.  I will not wither in the face of your hunger.  If you wished to be touched for minutes or for days, I will gladly be the one to touch you.”  He took a breath, invisible hand sliding over Sibylla’s body, heavy and warm and increasingly familiar with the places she enjoyed most.  ”Whether by Craft or my own hands, you do not have to hide that need, if need you have.”








Offline Sibylla Traianus

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #15 on: Nov 03, 19, 09:19:48 PM »
Sibylla had thought if she tried to push the young, truly under experienced Red Jewelled Warlord Prince for more that it would be possible for the Black Widow to sink into herself and him the way she liked to do for all of her partners, but the experienced woman was discovered along the way that this was not the case. She liked Prince Niccolo, but some of his approaches bordered upon almost unpleasant. It hadn't been enough for her to snarl at him and walk away - yet. She did not like how he attempted to empathize with her slavery by comparing his familial abuse. These were not the same by any means and a person's trauma was their own. It did not respect Lady Maria Helena Faa's pain and eventual death to compare her to someone the Warlord Prince had never met.

These horrors were not the same or even close to dying for political gain as it was for one's own family to kill and maim. It was rude beyond belief to compare the death of a Queen, and more to treat with Sibylla herself as though she were his Queen. She expected that he just didn't understand, and let that too, go. At first, she had not noticed the very, very poor understanding of Protocol, and simply thought it was mere inexperience. She liked Niccolo's lovely green eyes, and though he was vastly younger than what she preferred even in Short-Lived men, the Black Widow thought that the loneliness produced by her Caste and present situation ... could press through the vast differences between herself and Prince Nick.

She did not approve, most of all, however, when he spoke her name without an honourific. There was no possible way he could truly sympathize with being owned, she realized with the manner the young man's mind appeared to be incapable of processing emotion as it deserved. Her temper began to boil, as a result of this, despite the sensual interest. Like a Black Widow and one that had trained for decades while she also was a young Hayllian - Sibylla's perspective on life was quite an odd one. Young but old. She tried to catch her breath repeatedly to ease into the Seduction Craft - which she had allowed although Prince Nick did not verbally ask her permission to press along her skin.

He was allowing his cock to think for him completely whilst viewing her as a fetish without asking her permission, and while some of that was forgivable due to being a Warlord Prince - a Protocol break - what kept them both well pleased and safe in these arrangements was never acceptable. He did not seem to understand that his insistence of a lack of fear was something vastly broken - or so she thought.

Fear was not something that made a person weak, it made them understand that a cliff could kill them, that a poisonous spider was something that could be admired while respectfully evaded. He did not offer that. It was as if the young man was too foolish to be at all afraid, and exchanged one harmful extreme for the other. Sibylla ached for a balance; she wanted a man to know fright, but to be able to have the intellect to set aside fear to know her. She wanted for a man to be also able to know himself enough to thrive and be adoring of the fact that she could make him tremble because the humility of it was beautiful.

It grew, that irritation because she wanted someone to see her as a woman, not a powerful denizen to pad their belt loops to say they had fucked. Not a Black Widow that they could foolishly roll into and prick at until they died and Niccolo, adorable fool that he was, decided that both were the way to seduce a woman. Sibylla enjoyed respecting and caring for those various people who ended up as sexual partners. A rage that ought to have scared him boiled up again not simply because he'd offended her, but because he did not seem to care about his safety and as a woman who prided herself on surviving the worst, of thriving through it ...

She spun faster than he ever would be able to track without a single telegraph of her movements before her non lethal hand was at Prince Nick's throat in a gentle grip that was only as such because of his youth, inexperience, and the fact that he seemed to want to die by fire and be burned. The Red and the Green Craft were halted, like hands frozen in the air and perfect snowflakes of desire. She straddled Niccolo's hips and watched him through eyes that were almost dangerously and deceptively sleepy, and glazed over. Anyone else would have terrified, but it seemed as though unless she forced it and made him afraid, Prince Nick Faa did not know how to be. She shielded her snake tooth as well, to keep the Warlord Prince from further challenges or tests just in case.

Nothing about this encounter was safe, for anyone.

"Stop," she breathed against his ear, unable to hold back the ferocity in her voice completely. She only chose not to turn half the instruments in the room to dust to ease off the pressure because it would have been a tragedy to do so.

"I am not your Queen. Never treat me as such. Ever. You are disregarding my Caste, Prince, and I very much need you to cease that."

She met him eye to eye, breathing calm which belied how very, very annoyed Sibylla was but also how worried for his safety. "I am concerned that it is not safe mentally ... for you, that is, to fuck you, and that does not even begin to touch upon simple sexual enjoyment. You might disregard my strength because you have spent time with Dark Jewelled women and men that are safe. But you do not know me," she said with a tilt of her head and a soft smile.

"As much as it might be true that you want to get to know me. That you feel no fear is a defect, it is mental damage that has resulted most likely from the trauma you have experienced. There is nothing natural about that, nothing good. It does not help you get through life," she continued, bowing her head. "I wanted to think you were just brave. But as you are now ... I could kill you unintentionally, and the friends, the chosen family you have gained in this Court even though you may choose not to see them as such ..." she shook her head, rested her forehead so gently against his. "...Would morn you, even as you toy with dying, which is not a game. Not to me, and I do not want to be used. Your foolery could end everything I have worked for to come to Dena Nehele."

It hurt to have to do this, to say these things. Sibylla was tired, so tired of men regardless of age that did not bother to see her on her terms and only theirs. She was weary of them seeing her as an exotic possession to own. She still felt nauseated slightly that he had touched her scars from being brutally whipped by a man that had BOUGHT and OWNED her without asking to do so, and then repeated it. But that was something that too many men simply couldn't be bothered to see. They all saw her as objects of their desire rather than a flesh and blood woman with wants, dreams and needs. "I would suggest you practice your Seduction Craft on your skin before using it upon another person, or on the skin of a delicate piece of fruit to see how that give and play works, even if you do not care about what I have to say otherwise." She smoothed her hair over her right shoulder.

Trying to give the young man a chance to stop misreading her every word and movement, she took a deep breath. Her deeper emotions about this encounter were private, so she buried them to consider when safe. "I spoke of your Caste and Jewel the way I did because you deserve to be seen, just as everyone does in this ... Court. They see you. You have ... incredible capability. But I cannot ... bed a man that is wounded as you are. It completely goes against my ethics. As does my not knowing when you had your Offering, and how old you are. You never answered my question, choosing to evade with a half answer. The body cannot lie, Niccolo, not as well as you might think, and I am Lady Sibylla until I give you leave. Dena Nehele dispenses with Protocol in a manner that leaves me unsteady."

A thoughtful look took the edge off the temper in her expression. "If I had a guess, with the manner you spoke of the Steward of Dena Nehele, is he your mind healer?" She had been very careful with him because they were in public because people could choose to enter the Music Conservatory regardless of who was within it. This was not a private place that the Red Warlord Prince could lay claim to, and nor was she without permission, and not because she could hurt him, or break him, or maim him. Perhaps some people had relationships like that, but Sibylla was not the one.

Such warmth should exist because one should care about the feelings and needs of others because it was the right thing to do. Almost as if expecting him to lie, because in a manner he had already tried to do so by omission, she waited for answers. While true that Sibylla's sensual interest had to do to a vast degree because of what she was, she hadn't entirely given up on Nick and was hopeful that the moment would not end in a blast of flames and winces, metaphorically. She would have never chosen to hurt him and it offended her that it was all he seemed to be capable of thinking about - his attraction to her because she could kill him with a thought. It was ... humiliating, and hurt so very much. Sibylla blamed herself for perhaps choosing poorly, but Prince Nick's actions were his own. Being a Black Widow was the opposite of hiding, of control except for that which would maintain the safety of those Sibylla cared about.





Offline Niccolo Faa

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Re: Tenebrosi Black, Myos Red
« Reply #16 on: Nov 04, 19, 10:46:49 AM »
When told to stop, Nick stopped everything as though that reaction had been rehearsed.  It had not been.  He just understood that a request for a thing could also immediately be rescinded, and even a changed mind should be heard and listened to.  He was very well aware that Sibylla was not his Queen, or any Queen, he had just given her all of his focus, and perhaps fallen into patterns that she could not discern or appreciate.  Whatever the case, he did not respond to those particular words.  Nick met her eyes, and what she saw there was not fear, but there was concern and attention.  He was very much listening to everything that Sibylla said to him.  He did not try to interrupt, nor did she sense any outrage from him for the change in tack.  That did not mean it was not there, but anger would not teach him anything here, and anger was easy.

”I am not using you for anything.  What motivated me to speak to you, is not what moves me now.”  He did not move from where he sat, or seek to displace her.  She had asked him to stop, and he had, when she had turned his hands not rested on the couch, despite her proximity he did not seek to draw her closer.  ”I became too familiar, and apparently, too comfortable.  I apologize for that, Lady.”  Nick was not incapable of making his own mistakes.  She had not consistently used his honorific, and perhaps in the heat of it all, he could very well have forgotten that did not necessarily mean he had permission to do the same.  Nick did not need to be called Prince for someone to know who he was, or where he stood.  He did not flinch away when she laid her head against his, ”I see them essentially as you have described, perhaps I would not use those words, but the ties remain the same.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose slightly, ”I did as you asked, I stopped when you bid.”  He watched her, and still remained attentive, attempting to understand the change in the wind.  A Black Widow could be changeable, he knew that, but this was a hard stop, and almost accusatory.  He disliked being accused of a thing that he did not understand.  Clearly, he had misunderstood something or somethings along the way, but he did not think he was alone in that.  It was an interesting dressing down, if a bit one sided.  He was not there to argue or debate the woman’s feelings, however, they were her own, and to say otherwise would be to ignore them.  He would not do that at least.  ”You tell me that you feel that I have lied to you, by omission, and yet you brought me this far.  Forgive me, Lady, but I am confused by these words that do not entirely align with your actions.  You act as if I had  some plan to deceive you, I did not.  I am twenty-two.  It has been a year since my Offering.  An aristo sought to lay claim to me as my Uncle once did, I took matters into my own hands, and with help, avoided that.”

And now his cat-like eyes narrowed slightly, ”Prince Mercer is my friend, is what I have said of him before now.  He does what he can, Lady.  I am aware of my shortcomings and my ‘defects’.  I have my fears, as does anyone else, that they are not the same fears of others, I also understand.”  Nick tilted his head slightly, ”I am terribly aware of my trauma, as you put it, Lady Sibylla.  If that disqualifies me from association with you, then I am disappointed.  I appreciate that you are seeing to my safety.  I also appreciate that I do not entirely grasp why, but that is my problem, not yours.  My perspective is not the same as others, I know this.  However, it was not my intent to ‘use’ you for anything, if that is the impression that I gave you, Lady, then I apologize again.  I do not ‘use’ people.  I feel that is true, but I promise you that I will examine that when next I am alone with my thoughts.”  This was more speaking than he was used to doing, but it seemed necessary.  ”That may seem odd to say, but I do mean it.”

Nick paused for a moment, thoughtful, still looking into her eyes.  ”You may be the first person I have approached in this manner on my own, Lady.  I will examine that also.”  Then he added, ”That does not mean I will forget the first time I saw you, nor that I regret the time we did spend together.  It would be a small mind that did so, in my view.  Thank you for your consideration, Lady.”  Another pensive pause, ”I do not seek death, if that is your concern.  If I did, that is something I would do to myself.  There were times when I considered exactly that, Lady.  I would not put that burden onto anyone but myself, but I do not fear death—and I do know that is reason for worry.”  Nick took a breath and fell silent, but he never looked away.  He would be disappointed if he did not get to spend time with Sibylla again, so obvious a presence in Court, so obviously knowledgeable about a variety of things.  What could he have learned?  Nothing now, he supposed.  Any anger he felt dissipated as he became more introspective.  Nick had the memory to play this over in his mind, and he would.