Completed The Tent Dancer

Who will gain the first bruises? Fallan or Taylani?

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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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The Tent Dancer

Postby Fallan Windchaser on September 19th, 2013, 3:14 pm

Fallan

The touch of her hand was unexpected and he did not pull back or push her aside, instead he accepted the touch, his own fingers tightening slightly to maintain the grip. The touch broke his sombre mood somewhat but did not completely remove it for he still felt the guilt that he was not here to help his people but instead was living a life without care in Syrila.

He smiled softly at her and pitched his voice low. "Thank you Taylani." He still found a thrill in speaking her name, knowing that she was his. They both had felt the pain of loss, for some that Fallan had known were no longer here; at least she could hope one day to see her family again.

Having spent a short time with her he had come to know her a little. Still he did not know if she would prove kind or spiteful, amenable or inflexible. There was much that he did not yet know so every step was potentially one into quicksand which would require much effort to reverse out of.

That she had not known men, according to her anyway, added to the complication. Of course he would find out the truth if she lied and there would be a price to pay for that, both out of principle but also because he could not tolerate it. With the whores in the cities it had always been possible to find one who matched his tastes, yet here she did not even know what she liked. On the one hand the possibilities widened for it meant that his tastes would colour hers, she would only know his preferences and some of those she would assume to be normal, but it also meant a slower and more gentle approach than he was wont to use.

Her hand was warm in his and he reached out with his other hand to take it too. He watched her closely as he did so, for he had turned a gesture of compassion into an intimate touch. It would be so easy to force her now, so much pleasure in the taking as she fought back. He closed his eyes for a moment to help push away the images the thought conjured as he could imagine her tears and that thought aroused him. He became aware that he had gripped her hand more tightly and relaxed, taking a deeper breath.

"How many years you have Taylani?" It was an excuse to say her name again, and he pitched his voice low and intimately, but also it was an excuse to give himself something else to think about whilst their hands still gripped.
Last edited by Fallan Windchaser on September 26th, 2013, 9:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Taylani on September 19th, 2013, 3:37 pm

Timestamp : 10, Fall 513
Something had changed, she wasn't sure what exactly. In her naivete' and innocence, it took Taylani a little time to realize what had changed in his demeanor and look. It was something in the air that seemed to make it grow warmer, more dense. It was something that caused her breath to catch in her throat as his hand closed around hers, her eyes watching his face intently.

The slight roughness of his hands against her relatively smooth one was an interesting clash of textures, and strangely one that intrigued the dancer. She could not tell what he was thinking, his face did grow a little more intent, enough that she drew back just a fraction of a hair, he might not have even noticed the slight movement unless he notice the extra tension in the hand that he held.

Transfixed, her gaze meeting his steadily but warily, so much that for a moment she did not understand his question. "What?" Her voice had a breathless quality that she did not like, not one bit, and she ended up clearing her throat just a little in a ladylike cough. It was a second before she comprehended that he was asking her age. "I saw 18 years this past Spring." She replied, seeing no reason to withhold that information. She became suddenly aware that her mouth was dry, and that her anxiety was beginning to show. With great effort she straightens her torso, elongating her trunk and squaring her shoulders, trying to remove the feeling of being prey.
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Fallan Windchaser on September 19th, 2013, 4:37 pm

Fallan


The tension between them was almost palpable and Fallan could feel the beat of his heart thumping slowly beat by beat, each one seemingly taking a season to finish. This was hardly a planned seduction, a thought which created some amusement in his mind; that he would need to do so with a slave.

Perhaps it would be better if he stopped using that word so freely in his mind, for it brought with it ideas that he did not wish to apply. No, she was not free, yes he owned her, but he wanted more than that. He didn't want a sullen slave that he would have to spend every waking moment watching, or whom he'd had to beat into such a state of submission that all spirit had been broken from her.

Perhaps it was his clan breeding that was showing through for the clan were renowned for the best horses for good reason and the breaking and training formed a larger part of that than perhaps some realised.

Seductions aside, now would have been a good time to have had some alcohol in the tent. Not to get her drunk, that would have needed to be avoided at all costs, but enough for her to relax a little more. He had noticed the shifting of her posture as he had noticed the way that she held herself, just as any good horse breeder would have.

The thought struck him that perhaps that was what it was. He'd wanted her since the moment their paths had first crossed. He'd assumed that it was her hair and the expressions of outrage on her face, but it had been her, not her companion that he'd been drawn to, and he'd seen her walking and noted the grace. Of course he now knew some of the origin of that now, but no one became a dancer unless they already had the gift of it.

The distractions in his mind were not helping him to try and find subjects of conversation which would assist her in relaxing.

"Eighteen and pretty," he said, mildly irritated that he didn't have the words that he wanted. He was torn because he didn't want to leave her, not now, not so soon after he'd got her here alone, his and only his to admire and to enjoy. Still though, at the moment it was too intense, too strained.

He was tempted to hobble her and tie her hands to the tent pole that she could not escape, but trust was needed, and in any case if he did that then he would not leave.

"Fallan go, come back soon. Taylani stay." He nodded towards the pack which she had treated as though it were armour. "Taylani make home, yes?"

Assuming that she made some form of positive reaction then he would give her hands a light squeeze and stand, leaving the tent for a short time. He was tempted to touch her, to stroke her hair, lay his hand on her shoulder once more, take her into his arms. He threw off the temptation. Too soon for what he wanted, but neither did he intend to prolong it either.
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Taylani on September 19th, 2013, 5:06 pm

All in the space of half a season, everything in Taylani's life had changed. From her very freedom right down to the way she regarded everything around her. Perceptions, she has found, were so colored by one's experiences. If Fallan was a man from Syliras, and Taylani was still in the walled city, then this experience would be so much different, even if they both said and done the same thing. Taylani would not be feeling so conflicted, so angry at the situation, yet she can not deny the affects of Fallan's explanation of what had happened to the Drykas. No, not just his explanation but his apparent sorrow.

She hated that he was forcing her into a situation where she would give up something that she will never get back, and more for the fact that he was doing so for the express purpose of breeding. The last made it seem even more vulgar. Yet he was also the one responsible for giving her hope that she would see her home again, see her parents again. Perhaps even continue with a semblance of a normal life that the raiders had stolen from her. Hate and hope, sympathy and dread. It was enough to make her head spin, without the added anxiety and worry.

When he spoke again her surprise was evident in her eyes, in the way her lips parted as her jaw drops. She hadn't expected him to leave, of all the things both good and bad that ran through her mind of what would happen when she was trapped within the tent with him, him leaving her was not one of them. She nods her head slowly, though she is not sure how he means for her to make herself at home.

Her body remains rigid, and her face set until he is fully out of the tent, then she collapses in upon herself. Her body bends, her arms wrap around her middle and her brow touches the ground as great shaking sobs took over. Everything she held in that she would die before breaking down like this in front of anyone else, she let out into the tent. Her lost dreams, her lost hopes of falling in love, finding a husband and starting a family, the loss of everything that was herself she left there in the tears that course down her cheeks. If he had walked in now he would find her prone on the ground, wrenching shudders flooding her body as she lets loose the grief that she has held so dear to her.

It was only a little time later that she pushes herself up, mere minutes but the minutes could have been years such is the change in the young woman's face. Though her eyes are horribly red-rimmed, and her face swollen with the intensity of the grief that she had released, no longer are they conflicted, only determined. Her hands reach into the pack, digging through to find what she still had left. Nothing much, but a change of underclothing but what remained of her meager amount that she had with her when she had been expelled from the city. Shoving it once more in the pack, she closed it back up and crawled to where his packs seem to be placed in order. With a symbolic gesture, she moves his just a little to settle hers within his, then turns sitting once more delicately arranging her skirts. Facing the tent flap once more, the thought to run was heavy on her mind, but the also sure knowledge that she would surely die kept her from contemplating it more fully. Instead, she tries to compose herself as much as she could, wiping her face with the hem of her skirt, though there was not much she can do about the evidenced cry that was the reddened eyes and slightly swollen face.
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Fallan Windchaser on September 19th, 2013, 8:55 pm

Fallan
The camp city was large yet Fallan knew where he was headed and the most direct route there, for all that the tents had a unique configuration each time they were pitched.

He was amused that she had been surprised by his decision and satisfied too for he judged the decision well made even though it had been spur of the moment. He hurried for many reasons, not the least a concern that she might be tempted to leave, to attempt to flee. Since she was not yet webbed, tracking her might be delayed and he had no wish to find just a smear of blood in the grass where once there had been a beautiful woman with so much promise.

He did not know her tastes when it came to drinking, or even if she did. It was yet another thing to discover about her, another intimate detail to be revealed. He had settled for the cheaper wine, choosing it over ale for the greater impact and he thought perhaps more suited to a woman from the city. With his purse a little lighter still he hurried back, to arrive not out of breath, but feeling warmer from the exercise.

Inside the tent he smiled at her, relieved that had after all remained there and this time he took the time to lace the flap against intrusion.

"I hope Taylani more comfortable now." He came over to his packs to find the small leather beakers and then noticed the reddened eyes. He laid the two flasks of wine down and knelt at her side, a frown on his face.

"Taylani not cry," it was more of a hope than an order for all that he was a little stern. With the fingers of his right hand he brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead and ran the tips of his fingers lightly down the side of her face, then ran them along the edge of her chin. He lifted her head slightly and smiled.

"Taylani too pretty to cry." He regretted missing the tears for he found nothing attractive in this aftermath of a moment lost. He leant in and kissed her lightly on the forehead, his fingers holding her chin still in a grip that brooked no question. Now he could see her eyes close, the blue in a sea of red tinged white and his hand slipped along the soft skin of her neck and delved into the roots of her hair.

Now he was amused and aroused, in part because he was now close enough to see that there was still some faint moisture in the corners of her eyes. He locked her gaze and he searched in their depths, his left hand tracing her collarbone, careful to keep his touch above that line. One kiss was all that he allowed himself and he moved in slowly, the move deliberate and clear, his right hand supporting her head and making it harder for her to move away whilst his left cupped her shoulder. Their lips met, the softest touch and the lightest glance and once more he looked deep into the blue depths. Promises were wiped away and this time he kissed more firmly, aware that it was unlikely that it was reciprocated.

Then he drew back and softly let her go, sitting back on his heel. "Fallan bought wine," he smiled more softly. "Come, we drink." He turned aside and pulled out the beakers, half filling each before offering one to her, an offer which was not to be refused.
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Taylani on September 19th, 2013, 9:35 pm

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As he re-enters the tent, she begins to stiffen once more, it was beyond her control to help but instead of being completely rigid this time it is more subtle. Taylani never lowered her face, nor her eyes as she watched him lace the tent flap, then move toward his own packs. When he speaks she frowns to mirror his, but before she could respond he stole the words from her mouth by the light touch against her face. So instead of speaking, her mouth formed a small 'o', her eyes showing the surprise at the gentle touch.

His touch seemed to paralyze her, the warm glide of his fingertips across her skin creating a unique trail of sensation where ever he touched. When he raised her chin, her hand finally moved not really to stop him but simply to rest on the wrist of the hand that supported her chin. Her fingers wrapping lightly around him, her own finger tips able to feel the flutter of his pulse beneath her grip. She is not sure why she felt the need to grab his wrist, perhaps for just a bit of steadying balance or perhaps she was hoping to slow the situation. Either way she only knew that she was beginning to fear this gentle approach more then if he had barged in and taken what would have to be given without worry or thought.

With this gentle touch, Taylani was finding herself more confused and off balanced, unable to adjust to the almost dual nature of the man. His brisk, callous suggestions, then this almost sweet touch. It was driving her further from reality, and she had to cling to the truth for as long as possible. The truth being that this man did not want her, he only wanted what her body could give him -children.

Thanks to this last thought when his lips brushed hers, she was able to resist the impulse to return the feather-light touch, her hand releasing his wrist as his hand dropped to caress her collar. Even though she does not return the kisses, when his lips met hers for a firmer, more insistent kiss, she could not help the shuddering breath that was inhaled, that caused a quake to run through her muscles. Then almost before she could even process that he was gone, at least gone from her lips and settled back. He was keeping her off her guard, every time she tried to adjust to one behavior he would pull out another, leaving Taylani in a whirlwind. So when he offered her the wine, she hesitated only for a second before she takes the beaker and sniffs it cautiously.

"I am not much of a drinker.." she murmurs, more to fill the silence, before she stares at the liquid dubiously, knowing in theory what wine can do. With another glance up at him, she raises the beaker and without thought or caution she drains half of the portion he had allotted her. Her intention was to make this first time a blur, hopefully making the next ones more easy, kind of like dancing without her shoes to purposefully wear a callous on her foot. The callous creation was uncomfortable at first, but after it was on it protected from future hurts.

The only thing is she did not count on the strength of the liquor, not super strong but more strong then a simple glass of light ale that she very occasionally sipped. Now she had taken a large swallow, and the slight burn caused her to cough a little bit, then sputter for a few seconds.

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The Tent Dancer

Postby Fallan Windchaser on September 19th, 2013, 10:34 pm

Fallan


He missed her lips already, the soft smell of her skin lingered as a memory in his nostrils, her touch still tingled on his wrist. He wanted her to talk, so that he could listen to her voice, but she was still guarded.

He sipped at his wine, grinning slightly as she tipped hers back and then coughed.

"Ale in Zeltiva really bad. Taste like horse piss. This better." He suspected that in fact the ale there was made from horse piss, as well as the seaweed that they claimed and what was more he was sure it tasted worse than horse piss, though that wasn't a conjecture that he intended to test.

He drained his beaker, and then topped hers up before refilling his. "Drink." This time there was an element of command in his voice. The conversation was not yet flowing and the beakers now acted as barriers to action. He sipped from his beaker and ran his eye over her, wondering exactly what lay under the concealing cloth. He watched her reactions closely, in particular to the drink, but that needed time to have effect. He wanted her relaxed but not drunk. He wanted her reactions to his every touch, to see the dismay in her eyes when he pushed her harder than she was expecting.

Already though he suspected that her body betrayed her. Her mind said that she hated him, but her skin cared not for that, and try as she might, the right approach would undermine her best intentions. The chances of success were low for he was not a seasoned lecher and seducer of virgins, but there was nothing to lose for always he could revert to force. The hand of steel in the soft glove he thought, for he would not take no for an answer no, though he might delay a little or change tactic.

He drank again, feeling the slightly bitter liquid course warmly down his throat and set aside the beaker. He shifted forward and removed his boots and belt gear, laying them at the foot of the bedroll, then sat next to her, his feet on the bedroll, their thighs touching where he could see her face.

"Fallan wanted Taylani from first time meet. Gods timed my arrival here so Taylani be mine." Divine intervention perhaps, and he did not rule it out, for why else would she be here? He reached out and traced the line of her neck with his left hand.

"Why Taylani not in city when Drykas raid?" It was an element that was missing from her story so far and he could hardly imagine her outside the walls.
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Taylani on September 19th, 2013, 11:06 pm

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The liquid did little to wet her dry mouth, but it did give her something to do other then sit and wait. Waiting was never Taylani's strong suit. So when he filled her beaker once more, she did not protest, though she did give him a hard glare briefly, more for the tone of voice then anything else. She held the wine in her hand, taking the tiniest sip again, letting her tongue catch and process the bare mouthful before swallowing with just a mild grimace this time.

"It's not the taste, I guess it tastes fine." Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, more for the fact that she does not trust the timbre to not be tremulous. "Though...I have never tried horse ..piss to compare.." This last was said with a solemnity that did not match the words, almost as if she was attempting a tease without really putting her heart into it.

She did not raise the beaker again, instead it is held lightly in her hand, her fingers twisting it back and forth in a nervous gesture. This became more apparent when he begins to take his boots off, Taylani shifts slightly, when the belt is taken off she raises a hand to her neck but the beaker stays in her hand that rests on her lap. She felt warm, but not uncomfortably so, just a perfusion of warmth that spread from her belly out.

When he sits next to her, her entire focus became on the few inches of her thigh that presses against his, becoming very aware of the contact causing her voice to crack just a little. "Fallan does not want Taylani.." She denies, slipping into his habit of third person speaking, "He wants only her body. Nothing more. Else..."She shrugs, suddenly forgetting why she was not drinking from her beaker, instead wanting to bolster her strength. So she raises and takes another slight mouthful, not associating the warm feeling with the wine. "I am more then simply a body to toy with." She turns her face from his, setting the beaker that still had half of the liquid he had filled for her on the ground. Folding her hands in her lap she shrugs at his last question.

That was a personal question that she did not want to talk of. If he found out what the circumstances were that brought her to fall victim to the raid then it would give him more ammunition to use against her. Potentially finding an excuse to renege on his end of the agreement. "It doesn't matter what brought me outside. If you want to give credit to the gods for capturing me, then I won't argue. The gods haven't looked over me lately, wouldn't put it past them to do this."

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The Tent Dancer

Postby Fallan Windchaser on September 20th, 2013, 8:38 am

Fallan


It seemed to Fallan that the wine had brought back her spirit and it reminded him now of how she had been before, confident and arrogant. Attractive as those qualities were at times, they also foretold of challenge and resentment.

He reached back and took hold of his own beaker and drank lightly from it. "Dangerous to mock gods." He raised an eyebrow but he wasn't entirely serious for he doubted that any would take such a comment seriously. "Not chance, Taylani being here. Fallan not plan, Drylas not plan, so who if not gods?" The words were flowing more easily for him now, the Common words coming to mind more now that she had been talking.

She had challenged him, denying him the answer once more to his question and he would be a fool to allow it, but he sensed perhaps that she might be drawn out more with regards to her opinion of what he wanted from her. He couldn't blame her for the first impression, since he'd made it plain that he intended to bed her, so why should she not assume that it was the only reason? In many ways she was a liability out here and surely he could have found a Drykas woman?

"Taylani right, small reason," he demonstrated a small gap between his fingers and thumb, "want body." He touched her chin with his left hand and then ran it down the side of her neck and around her breast so that the palm just slipped across the nipple. He cupped the breast softly and set aside his beaker, then slipped his left hand free so that the fingertips caressed as they moved.

"Taylani move well," he suppressed the desire to compare her to the lines of a prized Strider, feeling that it would not be understood in the way it was intended. "Taylani have fine strong children. Daughters pretty like mother." He smiled.

"And right. More than just a body to toy with." He repeated her phrase and nodded. The drink was helping and yet not helping as he now found himself needing to avoid comparing her to horses. There was something unsaid, he thought, something that she had changed her mind about saying. "What has Taylani to offer Fallan? As well as body?"
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The Tent Dancer

Postby Taylani on September 20th, 2013, 12:40 pm

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She had only drank the first large gulp and then two smaller sips of the wine, yet the warmth pervaded. She was neither drunk nor even mildly intoxicated, yet she did feel a little bit of steel and strength that was not there before. Fortunately for Taylani, she does not register that steel and strength as the stupid courage found at the bottom of a wine bottle that more likely then not got its patron into more trouble.

She nods agreeably when he says that she was correct, though her eyes flew to his face when his fingers once more touch her. Thus it was that her eyes were looking into his face, when his hand first brushed, then cupped and caressed her small breast. Her hand raises, in a clear intent to slap away the hand but she stops it mid-air, never looking away from him even as her fingers slowly curl into a fist and drops to her lap.

She does not realize that her back arches just the barest bit, into his hand rather then away. Twin spots of color raises in her cheeks but she does not drop her gaze. A small almost cynical smile lifts her lips in the briefest of motions, "The gods can be blamed for many things. Floods, deaths, and catastrophes, as I said, the gods can have this blame as well. I do not mock them, on the contrary I know how much they can do to one person."

She shifts her weight close to him, one hand falling back to plant against the ground, to hold her weight as she uses the other to swipe her red hair back off her shoulders. "Your daughters." She reminded him, not willing to consider the children that he will father on her as her own trying to compartmentalize that fact away. "If one the two children I must carry for you is a daughter, " She speaks with deliberate care, though her face feels a little hot and her head just slightly feeling light. "If one is your daughter will she be treated as I am? Given to the highest bidder to do with her as he pleases? So that she too can be forced to give him sons and daughters?" Even though she continues to think in terms of his children, and not her own, a stab of pain registers as she asks after any girl children that she might bear him.

Yet there is that last question he asks her to contend with, Taylani leans forward thoughtfully her blue eyes searching his face and his own eyes as she speaks. "You have given me little choice in regards to my body Fallan. I can give you what you want without protest, without fighting, or you can take what you want regardless and I still end up breeding without a choice." She smiles, this time a cold smile that does not reach her eyes, "I chose the best option...the thought of seeing my family again is much better then living in chains burdening in labor every nine or ten months." One hand raises, her fingers reaching over to his cheek, and softly she hesitantly attempts to run her fingers across the scratches she left there, not trying to cause more damage or pain, just a simple touch. "You will have that, I can not stop you. But that is all you will have of Taylani. Just her body. Nothing more."
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