31st, SU 505
He vivid green dress clung tight to her skin, moist from the summer air. It was a rare days, sweltering in comparison to the coolness that usually claimed the floating city. Trente laughed often at the locals, knowing full well the heat of a southern summer upon hot ship decks when the wind forsook the air. His did not dare laugh right now, though, he was working. Or as much as the boy ever did.
He learned into his, and could smell the oder of her sweat. He aroused him, but not as much as his work did. "Saishal." Her green eyes responded from behind her ruby red mask, and pink lips smiled, tinted with the red of wine which had spread across her young face. Noting Trente's leaning in she pitched her petite left ear toward him, exposing her smooth neck, along with it's tiny blond hairs, set below lush red curls, wild and untamed, but matted and wrestled into the confined of a net. Trente wouldn't help but smile at the metaphor. How much Saishal was like her hair, meant to be wild, meant to be frizzy and unwieldy in the summer heat, but how her family has netted her. A shame, perhaps, but it made his work all the much easier. She would be wild, for him.
Trente had been careful of his own intake, to maintain his focus, while strategically pushing more on her. His lips carefully shaped whispers into her, carefully to play on his feigned Fravata accent that she loved so much. The unabashed suggestion was met with a redder face and an curiously aghast expression, as she playfully moved away and looked to Trente. "I couldn't!" Her shrill voice let out, untempered due to drink.
Trente looked her in the eyes, exploiting his most striking feature so as to lower her guard. "Surely you could. Do you not have any trust in me?"
She giggled again, her heart felt high above the citie's foundation by inebriation. "I do, Trente!" He loved the way she said his name, with that taken sort of tone. "I just, I well." Her glance slipped off of him, finally, onto the boy beside them.
He was a pretty one, Larice, tall pale, with contrasting black skin. He had nothing outstanding about him, not a think, except he had talents that drove Trente crazy in jealousy. He could do with an ink well and single quill what only a god could surpass. He brought life, and maintained memory. Trente valued this man above all others in Ravok, that wonderful city, for he brought true life to every shadow, and gave patience to every game Trente wished. Oh yes, he was a pretty one, and Trente was quite taken by the mischief the two could cause.
"I see how it is, Ruby Locks. You trust not my judgement in friends. Am I correct? Well, I am quite hurt by the implication that Larice here, my best friend, would be anything but honorable." Her face suddenly looked apologetic, and she shook her head, as if he had read her intentions all wrong. "No, Saishal. I understand. It is not about Larice. You just have no interest in me. I should apologize."
"No!" She blurted out in protest, after several attempt to cut in on his sentences. A thick blush, and flushed anger met her face, and she pushed at Trente. He elegantly sunk back, then straightened back up. He grinned, and she knew he played with her, and she liked it. Oh youth, how much he loved youth. He reached out, and set hand upon her hip, looking her straight in the green eyes.
"Please, Saishal. I promise you with all of my love, on the life of my father, that I, and Larice here, shall treat this as our most sacred secret. And," he smiled, "most cherished! Please! What use is life without it!" She giggled, not firm within her resistance, and so, she fell, first her gaze, then her head. She would say yes. And without much more pushing she did.
Larice had a studio to himself, coming from rich lineage himself, and that's where they guided her, stumbling in her restrictive dress. Trente would fix that upon arrival, letting her fall from it. She was not slim, but young enough that her girth had a voluptuous beauty of its own. She was embarrassed to let herself be seen, new to the experience. Perhaps completely new.
"Saishal. Tell me, have you lay with a man before?" A modest shake of her head, and Trente gave a gallant vow that he would treat her body and her heart gently, as a gentlemen ought to, and so she relaxed, letting her breast exposed.
Larice lay watch over the scene, the boy and girl draping themselves upon an expensive settee, and put his pencil to paper. Saishal was nervous, but Trente would her to ease with the shedding of his own clothes, and once the novelty of this had worn he set to her with laps of his tongue, which resigned her to Larice's studies. Oh but studies were not the only goal of this endeavor, nor were the pleasures Trente took from the girl.
Bloodlet and exhausted, still sweating in the daylight heat Trente busied himself, as a gentlemen should, to comfort her as Larice finished her works, but it was the following day that would yield true reward. He saw her home, in secrecy, with a tender kiss, and after she disappeared to her father's home, Trente laughed and returned to Larice, who was finishing a copy of his competency. He did not hold envy for Trente, and his exploits, and Trente knew why, from the detail of his own body within the picture, how he had framed within the center of every pose. He did not mind, though he never spoke of it to Larice. Some temptation lay best as abashed secrets.
"How many did you have the time to complete?" Trente asked, and set down, exhausted in his own right, next to Larice, leaning against him and throwing an arm around his shoulder.
Larice smiled, free of guilt which he most surely ought to have felt. But the two were young gods, Trente beyond caring for law or public opinion, and Larice protected by the noble name of his family. "Four, but I can do another. We need enough for her whole family, right?"
Trente grinned. Saishal was the daughter of a shrew of a women, one that was indeed quite blatant in her dislike for Trente, and his exposure to her daughter. Well, Trente could not find it in his heart to be sour over such a thing, not what it was such a wise dislike. No, he was upset over a much less wise comment she had wielded against him several nights prior. Trente had perhaps mistaken the women for a bucksome young suitor, as she lay maintained within her finery and masked behind porcelain skin, fake and adorned with pain and jewels. Trente also may have had enough to drink. Enough in deed to have toppled them both in the channel, just before her home, where the entire company met for personal festival had won an audience to the affair. All fun and games, Trente had sincerely apologized, despite the slurred language. But, she had still managed enough rage to have guards called upon him, and Trente had one hell of a time winning himself free from them, it taking a hefty bribe and negotiation till dawn before he finally made himself back to his bed.
Oh, she had won his scorn. And now, he would let this guarded women know, through means of the product of her womanhood, that Trente was a likeable suitor indeed. He would show the whole family, and friends, that he could claim what he wished, and even better, a young nubile replacement.
Trente laughed, took several of the copies, and kissed Larice on the cheek. "Make three more, I have a few more people in mind, that really much witness such a beauty."
He vivid green dress clung tight to her skin, moist from the summer air. It was a rare days, sweltering in comparison to the coolness that usually claimed the floating city. Trente laughed often at the locals, knowing full well the heat of a southern summer upon hot ship decks when the wind forsook the air. His did not dare laugh right now, though, he was working. Or as much as the boy ever did.
He learned into his, and could smell the oder of her sweat. He aroused him, but not as much as his work did. "Saishal." Her green eyes responded from behind her ruby red mask, and pink lips smiled, tinted with the red of wine which had spread across her young face. Noting Trente's leaning in she pitched her petite left ear toward him, exposing her smooth neck, along with it's tiny blond hairs, set below lush red curls, wild and untamed, but matted and wrestled into the confined of a net. Trente wouldn't help but smile at the metaphor. How much Saishal was like her hair, meant to be wild, meant to be frizzy and unwieldy in the summer heat, but how her family has netted her. A shame, perhaps, but it made his work all the much easier. She would be wild, for him.
Trente had been careful of his own intake, to maintain his focus, while strategically pushing more on her. His lips carefully shaped whispers into her, carefully to play on his feigned Fravata accent that she loved so much. The unabashed suggestion was met with a redder face and an curiously aghast expression, as she playfully moved away and looked to Trente. "I couldn't!" Her shrill voice let out, untempered due to drink.
Trente looked her in the eyes, exploiting his most striking feature so as to lower her guard. "Surely you could. Do you not have any trust in me?"
She giggled again, her heart felt high above the citie's foundation by inebriation. "I do, Trente!" He loved the way she said his name, with that taken sort of tone. "I just, I well." Her glance slipped off of him, finally, onto the boy beside them.
He was a pretty one, Larice, tall pale, with contrasting black skin. He had nothing outstanding about him, not a think, except he had talents that drove Trente crazy in jealousy. He could do with an ink well and single quill what only a god could surpass. He brought life, and maintained memory. Trente valued this man above all others in Ravok, that wonderful city, for he brought true life to every shadow, and gave patience to every game Trente wished. Oh yes, he was a pretty one, and Trente was quite taken by the mischief the two could cause.
"I see how it is, Ruby Locks. You trust not my judgement in friends. Am I correct? Well, I am quite hurt by the implication that Larice here, my best friend, would be anything but honorable." Her face suddenly looked apologetic, and she shook her head, as if he had read her intentions all wrong. "No, Saishal. I understand. It is not about Larice. You just have no interest in me. I should apologize."
"No!" She blurted out in protest, after several attempt to cut in on his sentences. A thick blush, and flushed anger met her face, and she pushed at Trente. He elegantly sunk back, then straightened back up. He grinned, and she knew he played with her, and she liked it. Oh youth, how much he loved youth. He reached out, and set hand upon her hip, looking her straight in the green eyes.
"Please, Saishal. I promise you with all of my love, on the life of my father, that I, and Larice here, shall treat this as our most sacred secret. And," he smiled, "most cherished! Please! What use is life without it!" She giggled, not firm within her resistance, and so, she fell, first her gaze, then her head. She would say yes. And without much more pushing she did.
Larice had a studio to himself, coming from rich lineage himself, and that's where they guided her, stumbling in her restrictive dress. Trente would fix that upon arrival, letting her fall from it. She was not slim, but young enough that her girth had a voluptuous beauty of its own. She was embarrassed to let herself be seen, new to the experience. Perhaps completely new.
"Saishal. Tell me, have you lay with a man before?" A modest shake of her head, and Trente gave a gallant vow that he would treat her body and her heart gently, as a gentlemen ought to, and so she relaxed, letting her breast exposed.
Larice lay watch over the scene, the boy and girl draping themselves upon an expensive settee, and put his pencil to paper. Saishal was nervous, but Trente would her to ease with the shedding of his own clothes, and once the novelty of this had worn he set to her with laps of his tongue, which resigned her to Larice's studies. Oh but studies were not the only goal of this endeavor, nor were the pleasures Trente took from the girl.
Bloodlet and exhausted, still sweating in the daylight heat Trente busied himself, as a gentlemen should, to comfort her as Larice finished her works, but it was the following day that would yield true reward. He saw her home, in secrecy, with a tender kiss, and after she disappeared to her father's home, Trente laughed and returned to Larice, who was finishing a copy of his competency. He did not hold envy for Trente, and his exploits, and Trente knew why, from the detail of his own body within the picture, how he had framed within the center of every pose. He did not mind, though he never spoke of it to Larice. Some temptation lay best as abashed secrets.
"How many did you have the time to complete?" Trente asked, and set down, exhausted in his own right, next to Larice, leaning against him and throwing an arm around his shoulder.
Larice smiled, free of guilt which he most surely ought to have felt. But the two were young gods, Trente beyond caring for law or public opinion, and Larice protected by the noble name of his family. "Four, but I can do another. We need enough for her whole family, right?"
Trente grinned. Saishal was the daughter of a shrew of a women, one that was indeed quite blatant in her dislike for Trente, and his exposure to her daughter. Well, Trente could not find it in his heart to be sour over such a thing, not what it was such a wise dislike. No, he was upset over a much less wise comment she had wielded against him several nights prior. Trente had perhaps mistaken the women for a bucksome young suitor, as she lay maintained within her finery and masked behind porcelain skin, fake and adorned with pain and jewels. Trente also may have had enough to drink. Enough in deed to have toppled them both in the channel, just before her home, where the entire company met for personal festival had won an audience to the affair. All fun and games, Trente had sincerely apologized, despite the slurred language. But, she had still managed enough rage to have guards called upon him, and Trente had one hell of a time winning himself free from them, it taking a hefty bribe and negotiation till dawn before he finally made himself back to his bed.
Oh, she had won his scorn. And now, he would let this guarded women know, through means of the product of her womanhood, that Trente was a likeable suitor indeed. He would show the whole family, and friends, that he could claim what he wished, and even better, a young nubile replacement.
Trente laughed, took several of the copies, and kissed Larice on the cheek. "Make three more, I have a few more people in mind, that really much witness such a beauty."
