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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

badriyah

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  1. Sapphira raised an eyebrow as Jon started laughing. The man was getting no more attractive to her, his condescending attitude not helping in the least. He said she was good, a fact she was well aware of. He failed to realize however how experienced she was in many aspects of life. Little could surprise her, and surprise was an emotion she could hide as well as any other. She was an entertainer afterall, and every moment spent in the presence of one whom she did not trust would be spent in a flawless act. Sapphira hid her irritation at the merchant's reaction entirely. She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and choke him until he passed out on her floor and she could call Quick in to haul him out. Due to the business nature of this encounter however, she felt forced to follow some pretence of peaceful negotiation. The young blonde tossed a leg over his shoulder just before he attempted to lift her, nearly dropping her several times until he set her back on the desk. Sapphira did not appreciate his attempts to distract her by handling her in such a fashion. She could tell he hoped to throw her off by getting her flustered with how he handled her. She would not, however, give in. She gazed at him silently, her eyes a smouldering violet blue of flames, her breasts rising to near entire exposure out of her corset with each breath. "You've heard my terms Smythe. They are more than fair considering how you rejected my previous advances. This is my Haus, my room, and here the game of gold is played by my rules. You are at the most severe of disadvantages Master Smythe. My dear merchant, you are on foreign grounds." Sapphira "Pixie" Belrose The pale side of the moon
  2. Pixie was growing impatient. She did not appreciate her efforts going to waste, and wanted him to give up something at this point. It was not about proving that she had power over men - she was fully aware that she did - it was more to do with time. She had hoped this wouldn't take too long, since she would still be required to clean up to some degree afterwards before facing the night, and possibly taking another to her bed not many hours later. Besides that, while Jodelle would be checking up on security guards, Sapphira would be ensuring that the bar was organized and had empty - and some still ongoing - tabs ready to be tended to; whether to add drinks to one, to begin a new one, or to press for payments from long-time guests. Jon was interesting in that none of the girls had gotten to bed him so far. Not only that, but there was the question about his manhood, though at this point Pixie felt enough to know that at least some, if not all of it, was in-tact. Unless there was something strange he was guarding underneath his pants. Light knows, I've probably seen stranger than whatever abnormality he might be hiding! In spite of her growing curiosity concerning the nature of his nethers, Sapphira abruptly lost interest in seducing Smythe. He was a challenge, but not one that enticed her enough to spend more time chasing after for now. The entertainer was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that she could seduce him if she spent more time on it. But time was better spent within lengthy bouts of primal pleasure than attempting to get a male to merely remove his trousers. And, of course, time was money. Nevertheless Sapphira would gain something extra for the refusal of her efforts. She grasped his head between her hands forcefully and leaned in to lick his throat and Adam's apple, leaving a trail of sticky wetness down his neck. She moved her mouth close enough to his so he could feel her breathing against his lips and whispered, fingers tugging on his hair, "You will give me something extra if you would like to see the contract. If you refuse pleasure from me, you will at least grant me from yourself. You can use whatever you like," she tugged on the merchant's lower lip with her thumb to hint at one of the tools she recommended. "If you will not, then the pretty piece of parchment in my desk will be edited, and I'll be carrying more gold around Caemlyn each month than the Queen herself." Sapphira "Pixie" Belrose The pale side of the moon and a merchant herself
  3. Pixie had loved talking to Kitten, joking and teasing about Jon, and felt the need now far more than before to get a glimpse of his manhood. He was the only man that none of the three sisters so far had been able to get a suggestive word out of. Even stablehands would whistle at Kitten, knowing they'd never get a chance with her. And Pixie's own favored tough, Quick, often attempted to squeeze her behind, and now and then she'd allow him to play a little longer before she pretended to get angry. Jon's self-control needed to be broken, and the young entertainer hoped she'd be the one to break it. It would be a conquest among her sisters. A knock at the door sounded the male's arrival, and Pixie threw a wink at Kitten before undoing the latch. She pulled the door open slowly, a sultry smile playing on her full lips. She would try a different tactic with this one. With most customers she leaned towards something more agressive and animalistic, one way or another she felt she enjoyed that best; but she had already suspected this would not work on Jon. Pixie would begin with a more conventional tactic. "Welcome Jon," using his first name would help, and Sapphira's instictive distance would have to be kept at bay for now, familiarity would win this. She gestured a slender pale arm towards the cushioned chair at her desk, "Would you have a seat?" Once he had seated himself, Pixie closed the door and secured the latch. She strode over to the chair, with a nonchalant shrug, "I'm sure the gentleman wouldn't mind me making myself comfortable," she challenged, before seating herself straddled across his lap. She arched her back in the candlelight, stretching, allowing the hint of flames to play across her body. "I've been hard at work for awhile now and I am in desperate" - exaggerating the word - "desperate need of a break." Pixie Belrose The pale side of the moon
  4. The late afternoon cast a golden glow through the light silken under-curtains that adorned Sapphira's windows. Though the natural light looked beautiful, she pulled the heavier curtains shut and lit three candles on her mahogany desk so that she could see the records she had been reviewing. She frowned, deep in thought, as she went over the subtractions she'd made to the gross profit last night. There could be no errors, business was going a little better as of late, but was no longer what it had been since before the incident. Burn me, word spreads fast! Does Caemlyn forget nothing? She leaned back in her char and tugged her eye glasses off her face, chewing gently on one black stem. Something would have to be done to get numbers back up. Profit was coming in, but at this rate there might not be enough to hire fresh girls to replace those who had left in fear following the murder. Smythe! He'll be here any minute! Sapphira rose and headed towards her wardrobe. She would have to negoiate this office issue, and she could no longer wait for Jodelle's blessing. Gently tugging off her afternoon clothing down to a deep violet sateen corset and golden stockings, she felt urgency come over her. Smythe was a merchant, but so was she of her own right. She needed a good deal for this office. It was worth a try bringing business to the Haus of Three, and if it proved too costly to maintain the deal, it could be broken if the appropriate contract was drawn up beforehand. That would be something Sapphira had to put together soon. In honesty, Sapphira had no intention of discussing business with Jon Smythe tonight. She needed to do something that would ensure a good deal from Smythe, and from what she had heard, he drove a hard bargain. His relationship with Emmeline was a good start, but more would need to be offered to cloud the business mind for a man of his ilk. Sapphira leaned in close to her vanity mirror, then wiped off her rouge from earlier that day, leaving her full lips their deep natural color. The pale, smooth skin of her shoulders and chest set a striking contrast against the brim of her corset, and she felt that excessive makeup would cheapen her appearance making her look like a gaudy statue. The charcoal colored paint that rimmed her eyes was enough. One quick tousle to her dark blonde hair and she was ready. The release would be worth it. At that moment she heard his voice somewhere down below, along with movement, and at once she was Pixie, the fairy to grant any man's darkest dreams. Pixie Belrose The pale side of the moon
  5. Sapphira was pleased that Jon understood the importance to comforting Kitten. Though it was a possibility Jon had been the one to murder the girl, Sapphira felt it unlikely, assuming he would not return to them if he had done it. Wouldn't he have just found another women's services establishment for his next victim, rather than risking returning to the same one? Comforting Emmeline could help things get back to normal at the Haus, and that was important for business. However of yet more eminence to Sapphira was her twin's well-being, and whatever could be done to ensure that would have to be. Neither her body nor her mind were at ease, and it was time to settle down and move on. And hope. Hope that the city guard could catch the criminal. Hope that the extra security could scare away the insane. And hope that the killer would not strike again. Awakening from her thoughts by her sister's gentle touch and sweet kiss helped warm the cold that had been growing inside Sapphira. She hugged her sister tight for a moment, not wanting to let go, then released her from the embrace so as not to prolong the comfort and encourage memories of what had happened that day from continuing. The young blonde released a deep sigh she had not realized she had been holding. She stretched, reaching her arms over her head and twisting her neck from side to side. "Well-" she started to say, and was cut off by shock when Emmeline leaned over and planted a not so sisterly kiss right on Smythe's mouth. Light! She peered between the two for a moment, noticing how Emmeline smiled gorgeously as though it were her wedding day, and then slowly stood up. "It's getting dark and there is much to do. I hope you don't mind me taking my leave." And with a quick squeeze of her twin's shoulder and a distant smile, she was off. Sapphira Lunetta Belrose The pale side of the moon
  6. "I've loved wearing the torc. As a matter of fact I've rarely been seen without it." Sapphira winked and held back from mentioning that that particular item could be considered special since she was often seen wearing nothing BUT the dragon torc. The merchant was shrewd. He had probably already come to that conclusion on his own and Sapphira felt that the vaguest hint made it all the more enticing. Light, most of the clientele aren't intelligent enough to even fathom simple suggestions! Smythe was refreshing. Idle chatter ensued and Sapphira participated politely here and there, though through most of it she spent chewing her plump lower lip and mulling over profit and plans. She was excited as ever at the prospect of a busy night of service, and no matter how much entertainment she'd been responsible for, no matter how tired she was, she never failed to go through each evenings earnings and tonight would be no exception. Tonight, she hoped, would bring plenty of gold. The young blonde made sure she did catch enough of the conversation to hear about the merchant's past. She knew that Jodelle was no doubt listening to him like a hawk considering his possibility as a suspect, so she did not feel the need to be quite as attentive. She did, however, pick up on his use of generalities to mask the identities of characters of his acquaintance, and found it mildly amusing. Sapphira tossed in a casual suggestion that he come to her room before opening tonight to discuss the office option, and bringing in his business associates. Until Jodelle gave a final word on it, Sapphira would continue to consider it an investment that they would be taking in the near future. If it would mean more money for the Haus then it was a welcome endeavor in her eyes. She wondered if he thought anything else of the invitation. CRASH! Without warning, the mirror behind the bar shattered to the floor, and before Sapphira could think to call Quick she spotted a goblet among the shards. Emmeline! She opened her mouth to speak but before any words could emerge Jodelle had slapped the younger sister right across her face, hard enough to leave a pink print on the ivory skin, before raging out of the common room. Emmeline's shocked expression made her twin's heart ache, and Sapphira slid off the bar and wrapped her arms around her sister. "It's ok sweetheart," she soothed, "she'll be just fine in a little bit. I know you're hurting and it takes time to recover. It'll be alright, try to remember. Everything is going to be just fine." Sapphira stroked Emmeline's hair in rhythm with her voice, hoping for a hypnotizing effect. Once a few moments had passed she glanced back at Jon, praying he could tell that she expected him to aid in comforting Emmeline. If he did well enough he might be able to melt the icy uncertainty towards him her heart. Sapphira "Pixie" Belrose The pale side of the moon
  7. Walking down the streets of Caemlyn never but comforted Sapphira. Middle-class women flapped clean linens from balconies while gruff oafs lumbered down the streets, some heaving crates or pushing wheelbarrows, others eyeing shops in search of work. Her own oaf, Quick, stalked along behind her, clearing his throat and now and then making deep coughing sounds that - while less than pleasant - did not bother Sapphira, being used to the wide range of sounds made by males. The young woman had ceased questioning why they called him Quick, but she hoped it meant that he could be swift in ending sticky situations. Sweet scents wafted across cobblestones counteracting the stench of contents of chamberpots and dung, and rounding another aromatically confused corner, Sapphira and her oaf approached their home. She glanced at the sky. It wouldn't be long before the establishment would open its doors to Caemlyn's male prowlers and more likely than not, she'd be found prey again tonight. The idea never ceased to excite her. At seeing her approach, one little stable hand, evidently slacking off, rushed around to open the back door for her. Sapphira, stepped through without a word and was greeted by a warm gust of fragrance boasting crushed lavender and rose oil. The girls are already preparing themselves for business. The young woman wondered where her handmaiden was to take her velvet gloves and midnight beret. For a moment she felt her heart sink - it couldn't be...! But then she spotted the girl carrying heaps of dresses upstairs and quickly regained her ease of mind. Sapphira glided into the common room, her narrow burgundy riding skirts swishing about her ankles. Her eyebrows shot up in surprize for but a moment as she spied Smythe at the bar, along with her two sisters. From the look of it, Buttercup had been there the longest, settled in with a goblet of some sweet wine, no doubt having been disucssing business with the merchant; while Emmeline stood awkwardly addressing the visitor, wearing flawless makeup and defiance. Sapphira winced. Her sister's sunken features made her heart twist each time she laid eyes on Kitten. She missed the roundness her face had had not long ago and had even noticed since that some of Kitten's more favored clients had begun to dwindle at the girl's loss of curves. She needs her home to be as normal as possible. She needs a sense of security again. It wasn't that Sapphira was heartless as to what had happened, but through her experience she had come to thinking of life in terms of entertainment, and she knew that now more than ever, the show must go on. The blonde gave a little push and seated herself on the bar between Buttercup and Jon, and began tugged her gloves off with her teeth, careful not to let the burgundy rouge on her lips soil the velvet. When she was done, she cast a glance towards Jon, "So Master Smythe joins us yet again! Tell me sir, have your travels found you any exotic items that might catch the interest of three gorgeous females?" Sapphira "Pixie" Belrose The pale side of the moon
  8. Sapphira had had an amusing breakfast. She hadn’t been surprised that Kitten hadn’t liked the dress she’d given Jon to offer to her sister. She knew her sister well enough to know her likes and dislikes. Though Sapphira had once loved that dark fairy-tale colored dress, it had been aging and had several holes. It had had to go anyway. The awkward meal had been hilarious for Sapphira. She had watched slyly over the rim of her goblet of watered wine as her sister fought to recall what had happened to her the night before. It’d ok, I might remind her later if Jon allows. It really wasn’t her business, though she cared for her sisters deeply, she had learned to stay out of their one-night-stands for the most part, and in this case, there hadn’t even been any inappropriate behavior. Or so Jon said. Once breakfast was over Sapphira headed to the attic where she settled down in one of the plush purple chairs and studied her records extensively. She had bought a pair of spectacles while in Tear the previous winter, from a merchant who had purchases a few rare pairs from the Sea Folk. Sapphira had been surprised to find that they actually made a difference to her vision. The party the previous night had been a success. They had profited much and more, and were certain to have plenty of regulars as a result of their outstanding hospitality and alluring entertainment. Jodelle would be please to hear the projections Sapphira had just calculated. Haus of Three was going to be one of the most profitable taverns in Camelyn, and considering the great size of the sprawling city, that was an impressive position for their business to be in. Once she was satisfied with her paperwork, Sapphira removed her spectacles and headed for her bedroom. Pulling the light pink dress off her body, she left it on the floor for her bed maid, Marianna to retrieve. The young blonde kept her corset and thigh-high white stockings on, though she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Comfortable with her attire, she made her way to the chamber the girls gathered for their daily exercise. Once everyone had filed in besides her sisters. Sapphira began the dance that was their work out. She had them stretch every muscle in their body throughout the session, and mixed up every move to make sure they were constantly using more than one limb, in order to promote good coordination. Some of the girls groaned as Sapphira led them through an especially difficult portion of the dance, “Keep it up girls!” As the girls grew more unruly Sapphira reluctantly retrieved her riding whip for one corner of the room and walked around between them whipping whoever complained or whined. She didn’t like to have to do it, but if the girls wished to maintain their positions in Haus of Three, they would have to comply with their employers’ rules, and one of those rules was making sure to stay healthy. Kitten wandered in, which pleased Sapphira and she kept an eye on her sister, worrying that she might not be in any state to exercise yet if she was still suffering from her hangover. Kitten eventually left, and to the dancer’s surprise Jon wandered in and began dancing. Sapphira grinned. She was going to have some fun with this. She slid over to Jon and informed the girls to wind down the dance, leading the way at slowing the pace of every movement herself. She grasped Jon’s hands and placed them on her tight waist, pulling him close and dancing with sinfully sultry movements, making circles and figure eights with her hips, eventually pulling Jon’s hands down to hold on to her hips. She hoped she had him imagining what else she could perform with her hip motions. Sapphira finally let the dance end and gently pulled herself from Jon’s arms, maintaining eye-contact with him as she slipped away. The dancer, heart beating with the rush of the exercise, retired to her room to wash up, calling for Marianna to fill her tub with pails of boiled water from the kitchens. Once the task was complete, Sapphira stripped entirely, and slid into the hot bath completely naked., using a cake of rose oil-scented soap to wash the light sweat off her pale body. “Marianna, come here you silly little wench!” As Marianna came over the dancer leaned forward in her tub, letting her servant wash her back, smiling as she noticed the care with which the girl did it. Sapphira could entice anything, as she was quickly learning. Male, female, or other. Light, she could probably even seduce a half-man, and certainly a Trolloc. Once she had finished she had Marianna dry her off, even though the younger girl insisted on doing it with a piece of silk and her bare hands. The Belrose twin dismissed her bed-maid so she could have privacy while dressing. She donned one of her afternoon/evening dresses, entirely too form-fitting, neglecting to wear any sort of undergarment underneath. The dress was tight enough to cling to her breasts, and though it was the tiniest bit transparent, it would not be obvious unless she was standing in front of a large torch. Or if she danced close enough to someone’s face. Sapphira made her way downstairs, swinging her hips as she walked, and swayed contently into the common room, anticipating a late lunch, only to find her sister Emmeline passed out in Jon’s arms. Once he had set her down, the blonde twin rush to her sister, smoothing her hair as the servants began wiping her face off. “It’s ok sweet sister, you’re going to be all right.” Sapphira soothed to her unconscious double. As time passed Emmeline woke and Sapphira stepped back to let Jon soothe her. There seemed to be something between them, and Emmeline seemed to favor Jon’s comfort as of late, which Sapphira understood. Sometimes a woman isn’t enough, even if it is your sister. After waiting for them to complete their private time in her sisters room, Sapphira sent Marianna to learn from Margo what had happened to her sister. Marianna reported back quickly, to Sapphira’s pleasure, and followed to relate a horrifying story to her mistress. Sapphira frowned in though, her mind working as she assessed the situation and the best way to understand and resolve what had happened to her twin. She would have to consult Jodelle before sending for the city guard, as Emmeline had wanted according to Marianna. Sapphira seated herself at a table in the common room where her older sister seemed shocked and disturbed. No doubt her own servant had informed her as to what had taken place. “Jodelle, we are going to need to figure out who did this, and I doubt the city guard will take the time to investigate adequately. With the false dragon, they already have plenty on their hands. We should tell them just so ensure they make a public message to dissuade the killer from committing another such crime, but I think we may want to handle this ourselves as well. Leave it to them and they’ll forget, since as long as they are protecting the queen in these times, little else will be of great importance to them. What do you think?” After listening to her sister’s response, valuing her elder’s experienced opinion and discussing the issue further with her, Sapphira sent a stable hand to inform the city guard. There would be no other officials to tell in Caemlyn, and she doubted the queen would be listening to petitioners until things were cleared up with the dangers posed to her court. She just hoped everything would resolve. Sapphira introduced herself professionally to the city guard officers who entered. And then settled down on a bar stool next to Jodelle, anxiously awaiting her twin’s descent. Sapphira Lunetta Belrose The pale side of the moon.
  9. Pixie finished attending to the man at the table and winked before she fled across the room to check on Jon. The moment she stepped over to him he pulled her into a quiet corner, offering her a beautiful gift, a dragon torc, exactly something she might have chosen for herself. Pixie gasped as he removed it from his pocket. Normally she would have been able to contain herself but the torc really was exquisite. "Thank you so much Master Smythe, I really did not expect something of this value from a man I just met," she paused to flash him a mischievous smile, "I am indebted to you, and I do not take my debts lightly. If a dance is what will pay you back for this, then a dance we shall do." Stepping onto the dance floor, Pixie pulled Jon's arms around her, and made sure he was close enough to feel the curves of her body. The young blonde was determined to repay the merchant for the extraordinary gift he'd given her. She twisted, turning her back to him, and danced in a way that made other men in the common room turn red and shift in their seats. Pixie gave a low throaty laugh as the song ended and mocked an innocent curtsey for Jon. At that moment she spotted Kitten across the room glaring at her. How long has she been watching? And why under the Light does she look so furious? To get her mind off her sister's seemingly odd possessiveness over a man, Pixie strode over to a table with what looked to be a mercenary officer, an officer of the Band of the Red Han, in fact, a group of fighters she had heard of but had yet to know much about. She bent down, leaning her whole upper torso across the table to give him an enticing view down the front of her corset, and to ensure whoever stood behind her would enjoy the curvature of her hips through the tight dress. With a grin, the dancer whispered, "So one of the girls tells me you're a sergeant. You must be very good at fighting. I myself, am a grappling fan." Sapphira "Pixie" Belrose The pale side of the moon
  10. Sapphira bent again, stretching her back, reaching her hand down to her toes that stuck up into the air, her heel on the floor, and leg outstretched in front of her. The young woman angled her neck in such a way to point her chin out in a neck stretch, towards her forward leg. It felt so good she moaned. After holding that pose a few moments longer, she unfolded her body and rose, arms stretching up in the air, and then slowly drifting down her sides. With that finished, she was ready to don her gown. Sapphira knew her place, she was not in charge of decorations, nor alcohol - not in charge of the serving alcohol to customers part of that chain anyway. She made all the monetary arrangements, keeping a close watch on the budget, ordering just enough, and then a little more, never too much to ensure profits. Her only other official work at the tavern was as an entertainer, a dancer, in both the common room, and the nobles' lounge, and with that latter she had agreed to outdo herself in her dancing, showing off her more exotic moves, and the prowess with which she could wield every part of her body; and wearing dressier, yet more revealing outfits. Her general costume for tonight was laid out upon her bed, a midnight-blue and charcoal satin dress that would cling to her curves, and was translucent enough when the light hit her that the guests would be able to vaguely discern some details of her anatomy. She donned it quickly, lined her eyes with the blackest antimony paste the sisters had purchased, and then slid into silver silk slippers. She tossed her dark blond hair back and forth to exaggerate the tousle to it, checked to make sure her moonstone anklet had not slipped off her dainty foot, and then exited the chamber and made her way to the common room. As she entered the common room she subconsciously changed her gait to give her hips more of a sultry sway, her long hair falling down her shoulders, past her waist to nicely compliment the movement of her hips. Now she was Pixie, and it was Pixie who spotted and approached her twin and what appeared to be their very first guest. At realizing Kitten was still wearing only a shift Pixie had to fight back laughter. If it wasn't a ploy to get their first guests rowdy, then, knowing Kitten, it was likely an honest, absent-minded mistake. Either way it was funny, but the dancer managed to conceal her amusement in front of the male guest, though later she would make sure to tease her sister about it. Jon Smythe, Pixie smiled her pouty, alluring smile and watched him make a perfect bow in introduction. As the small talk began, she realized the man was there on business, and for a few moments her entire attitude changed. She was again Sapphira, treasurer of the tavern, and it was she who inspected the cases of Tabac the young merchant displayed, and it was she who did the haggling and made the appropriate purchase. With a gratified, almost sedated smile of pleasure at what she felt had been a good deal, Sapphira accepted the flagon of wine from her twin and enjoyed only a tiny sip. Once more, she became Pixie, and too much wine would hinder tonight's performance, and tonight she intended to be especially spectacular. She listened, amused at Kitten's invitation for an escort. The air between her twin and the merchant sizzled with chemistry that burned hotter than acid. The group quickly dissipated, as her beloved older sister Jodelle left, noticeably in the direction of Smythe's room. Pixie already knew she would have enjoyed watching the interaction that was sure to ensue between the proprietor and the first guest; but she was pressed for time, and would make sure to hear tell of it from Jodelle herself later on, as the three lounged in eldest's room, rubbing sore feet and removing powders and pastes from their faces. Pixie was finished with preparations. If matters were left to her sisters there would not even be a party that night, as they fussed over every minute aspect of the important event. The tavern had begun to fill up and over the course of only a few minutes the common room was packed with thirsty howling male customers and a few intrigued female guests. Pixie quickly sent a serving girl to fetch her sister as demands for the famed moon twins were shouted all across the bar and among the tables. Pixie stuck two fingers between her lips and whistled, the shrill sound both quieting the boisterous clientele, and signaling the musicians to begin playing. A deft hand stroked the strings of a lute in a slow, sultry rhythm as Pixie kicked off her slippers and jumped up onto a central table, beginning to dance with snake-like movements, as though trying to writhe out of her dress; the bells on her anklet jingling slightly, sensually. And then at once a drum was introduced and a flute, and the tempo took on an exciting tune as Pixie's dance altered to accompany it, involving far more shaking and hopping. Better not to get this crowd too worked up with the sultry stuff. Shouting and jeers were thrown her way and she smiled and laughed at some of the untamed words. She spotted Kitten across the room and signaled her for the next phase of the party. The guests needed dance partners. Whoops of satisfaction stormed the air of the common room as courtesans filed in, adorned in brightly colored dresses with skirts as fluffy as froth on ale. As the opening song ended and another began, Pixie hopped off the table, determined not to wear herself out too early, and located a table she felt had not had adequate attention. There were only a couple of men at the table, and one woman who looked almost out-of-place in Haus of Three. The young dancer seated herself on the edge of the table itself, inches from one of the males. She grinned and winked at him, "So how are you enjoying your evening?" OOC: Any and everyone, feel free to jump in! Sapphira Lunetta "Pixie" Belrose The pale side of the moon
  11. Badriyah did not like the way the Accepted looked at her. As though she understood more than she let on, something the novice found unnerving. Lillian could not be trusted with everything – no one could – and Badriyah was not about to make this woman’s day by telling it all. She had spoken enough already. The brown-haired girl found herself wondering when her roommate would return, though she managed not to glance at the door anxiously as she was grilled by the company. “My father tortured me. He tortured many people in Lugard, though I was probably the only one he did not care to kill.” I might’ve been better off dead, she thought as she paused before continuing, “My father didn’t really teach me, so much as I was forced to observe...upon occasion.” It wasn’t really true but it sounded alright to her. She had been taught, though she prayed no one would figure it out, especially not this Lillian. A person would really have to see my work...and how nice it’d be to show certain people... And it was with great effort that the psychopath forced herself to stay focused on the conversation, tearing her mind away from her sadistic visions. Badriyah
  12. The man she was fighting’s words barely had time to register with Drelana before he reached for his belt, as though for another weapon. The huntress tensed, gripping the hilt of her dirk hard as she awaited another weapon of some sort to be drawn. Somewhere in the back of her mind, beyond the almost deafening pounding of her heart, she wondered about what he said, Rob? I didn’t rob him! What in Shayol Ghul does he mean? But she was too worked up to think it through clearly; the man’s hand was reaching for something…but she couldn’t see any signs of a concealed weapon. Light! And then he extracted a pouch – of all things – from his belt, the sort that one might expect to hold gold coins, and tossed it at her. Only no sound, no clinking of coins came from it, which was odd to say the least. The pouch hit the edge of her blade, tearing open, releasing powdered black pepper into the breeze that was now blowing straight in her direction. Drelana sneezed again and again, a strangely innocent sound in that setting; like the voice of a child on a battlefield. Between sneezes, the young woman saw the man bounding towards her, steel cutting through the air soundlessly. “Burn you!” she managed, as she deflected his attack clumsily, and then tried to send one of her own. Drelana no longer had a stable stance, however, and when the pepper-thrower blocked the awkward thrust of her dirk, the force of it caused her to lose her balance. The huntress landed on her back in the mud, her dirk somewhere beyond her reach. Fear rose instinctively in the nineteen-year-old as the man she had attacked stood over her, raising his sword. Thoughts swept by frantically as she tried to figure a way out of this mess. And then suddenly it struck her that if this man thought she was a thief he probably assumed that because the drunk had tried to rob him and then she had helped the drunk by attacking him. She hadn’t seen the villager steal or threaten, but perhaps she had missed it, or missed some earlier encounter between the two. She had a very, very slight chance that if this man knew the truth he might step back. If he didn’t, her options were either to try to roll away on the ground, though it would be difficult since there were rocks strewn about the area, or if she managed to get the knife she had tucked in her leather out in time she could aim low and stab him in the gut as he bent to kill her. Drelana reached into her armor as she said viciously, “Kill me and you’ll be killing an innocent. Ask in the town: they know me, I help them.” The young woman couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could read hesitation in the man’s eyes, though for the most part they seemed angry and determined. "Go ahead, murderer." Drelana
  13. Badriyah could hardly believe the woman didn’t believe her! She had spoken as convincingly as she could, but again and again the Accepted saw through it. A trick I must learn, she thought gloomily. It was probably true, what the other said about the Mistress of Novices not being as understanding as she would be. And it would probably be better that fewer people knew about. Being taken to the Mistress of Novices would make the whole thing as good as news within the novice quarters, she suspected. But, how do I know she isn’t going to take me anyway? Badriyah frowned slightly; that was a risk she was just going to have to take. In any case this Accepted would find out, one way or another. The young psychopath sighed sincerely as she felt her fatigue at her long trip and exciting day beginning to return. She really wasn’t up to being beaten tonight; she would need to be alert and pulled together in the next few days as her life at the White Tower began. Badriyah tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and she met the other woman’s steady gaze with resignation, “Alright. The show’s over. What happened was the girl approached me with the intentions of stealing my bedsheets. I had told her she couldn’t have them and I did not want her to take them. They are mine,” she said that last as though it were the simplest logic, and then, “That’s how the fight began. As I said, I had intended to hurt her with the glass, perhaps even kill her. I saved it because I supposed that I might have cause to make use of it later on, if she tries to irritate me again.” It was the truth, missing some details that the novice thought were better left concealed, but that was basically how it was. The white-clad girl almost wished she could bring herself to say sorry and mean it. She tried hard to bring up any feelings of guilt or regret she could but found none. If she were to face the same situation again she would behave the same way. Badriyah sat uncaring in the silence, adding after a moment, “I’m not going to apologize since you don’t want me to lie any more,” the psychopath yawned disrespectfully as she continued, “I would that you didn’t tell the Mistress of Novices about this. Believe me, a beating will just enrage me, it won’t make me any sorrier or less dangerous. I’m accustomed to pain.” “Now, names if you please. Yours and the girl’s.” Badriyah "Mwahahaha!!!"
  14. Badriyah stood staring at the door dumbfounded after the light-cursed Accepted left with her scowling roommate. That was sudden! She had given absolutely no indication of whether or not she believed the young brunette’s little act. How frustrating!! Light torment her as she torments me! she prayed silently, with gritted teeth; and for the next few moments let her imagination run wild. It was quite awhile before Badriyah managed to decide whether or not she would comply and clean up. She went over the image of herself weeping and begging forgiveness again and again. Would it do for her not to clean up the glass? What would the Accepted make of her disobedience after her words? It would give the woman more reason not to believe her act. Even if she didn’t fall for it, what’s the worst that can happen? I’ll have a beating, maybe even get a few extra chores to do. I can take any of that. Why should I clean up the flaming gl- and then the psychopath realized that it would be to her own benefit were she to take care of the shards on the floor, because she could save them and make use of them when her cravings grew strong. Maybe even use them on her roommate. Light! Brilliance! Dropping to her knees, she began to gather the little potential weapons in her hands slowly so as to enjoy the blood from the little cuts that appeared on her hands and stained the broken pieces of window beautifully. She made sure to put all the larger bits under her bed, and the tiny ones she managed to see she collected and threw out. Badriyah then settled down on the edge of her bed and stared at her hands, wiping the blood all over them. Maybe when her superior returned she would feel sorry for the girl with bleeding hands. Even better! As time passed Badriyah began to wonder where the Accepted had taken the theif she was being forced to share her room with. The only thing she could think of was that she was being punished, which was absolutely fine with Badriyah. There was plenty of reason to punish her afterall, she wanted to run away, she stole from people, she used bad language, she spoke back to Accepted... The young woman lifted her tearstained face as the door of her chamber swung open. Badriyah
  15. so this is going to mean no whitetowerdiv.org anymore?? :S:S
  16. It was the evening and Drelana was trying her best not to worry over her missing younger sister as she started out from a village she had been stranded at for two days through thunderstorms. It had been almost a week since she had last seen her parents and they had told her of her sister’s disappearance and the more the nineteen-year-old thought about it the more confused she was. Her sister had not seemed unsatisfied with life on the farm last time she had seen her but it was true that Drelana had never gotten as close to her as she would’ve liked to, the five-year gap between the two making it difficult for them to find many topics of conversation that each found entertaining. Light protect the foolish child. she prayed as she padded through the mud, grateful for the well-made boots that protected her feet from the cold, slippery path. Being out among the wilderness had a way of cheering up the huntress and she smiled as she began to feel the chill of the moist air around her through the leather vest she wore. She blew her dark bangs out of her face and pushed her long hair back over her shoulder with a small, happy laugh at absolutely nothing. She felt so much better already! Drelana doubted anything could ruin her sudden unexpected good mood. She wouldn’t even be irritated if it rained again, she’d simply walk about in the shower until she could not stand being soaked, and then would head back to the village for another night at the inn. No, not even the prospect of possibly having to return to civilization would affect her cheerfulness. It was just as the violet-eyed girl had added a little skip to her step that she recognized human voices exchanging words outside near a tent that hadn’t been obvious to her when she was further off. She stopped near where two men stood, believing herself to be seen and hadn’t time to realize she wasn’t as a drunken lout from the village threw his arm around another and bellowed something almost incomprehensible into the brown-haired man’s ear. Abruptly and without any obvious reason she could detect the one who was evidently sober and looked to be in a dark mood shoved the drunk aside and the next thing she knew the two had swords drawn and were clashing about wildly. Drelana quickly tried to see the faces of the fighters and recognized the drunk almost immediately as being a man from the village who was disliked by many, though everyone had different reasons for shunning him. He had never done anything wrong except drink excessively that Drelana had noticed, and certainly in this situation he had done nothing to deserve the attack the other made on him. As she stood trying desperately to decide what to do the villager was defeated and pushed into a puddle where he thrashed about, struggling to breathe. The look on the attacker’s face made Drelana doubt he intended to allow the poor man to live. So, without much further thought, Drelana skirted the tent, stalked over to the stranger from behind, and tried to pull enough strength together to punch him hard in the small of his back, though once she had given the blow she immediately wished she hadn’t, as she could be almost absolutely certain it had hurt her fist more than it had his back. As he spun around, eyes glittering with rage, she hastily unsheathed the dirk that hung from her belt and ducked just in time to miss a swing that might’ve taken her head. She tightened her grip on her blade and aimed an awkward thrust at the man’s middle that only just touched him before he danced out of the way. Her pulse sped in the thrill of the fight and anticipation and she kicked the man in the mud and said, “Help me, you lazy fool!” but all she got out of the winded drunk was an almost inaudible grunt. The huntress gritted her teeth and faced the armed man again, so I’ll have to do this bastard’s dirty work for him? OOC: I wasn't sure where your char was, so I assumed near a village; is that alright? plz pm me if you need me to change it :). Also, sorry about the late post, we had a blackout so I couldn't use the compy yesterday. Drelana
  17. Drelana was startled to hear what sounded like a cough from among the shrubs nearby. Her eyes flashed in the direction, but she quickly dismissed the sound as some sort of animal or the cracking of branches being pushed together by the breeze when she failed to recognize anything out-of-ordinary. The young woman turned casually and was about to approach her croaking prey when the cough sounded again, clear and unmistakable this time. She spun, raising her bow as anxiety began to take hold when she couldn’t see anyone. And then the stranger emerged and Drelana became momentarily paralyzed by the sight before her. “I see you, wetlander,” said a shockingly tall man (and Drelana was considered by no means short for a woman) as he straightened, a fierce-looking beast materializing at his side. The man had flame-colored hair that stood out in sharp contrast to his bright blue eyes; and skin tanned golden by the sun. His familiar was just as striking, a predator, by its appearance, and of deadly fighting potential, a creature of the like Drelana could never recall laying eyes on herself. An unearthly beam of sunlight shining down on the almost god-like pair enhanced the sudden strange idea the young woman got that this was a visitation by some beautiful, though possibly evil, storybook apparition. She was as awed as she was frightened. “I only want to talk, and I’d hate to dance when the pipers aren’t here to play. I am Cor, a Stone Dog of the Deep Shade sept of the Dragonmount Aiel. May you find water and shade this day.” The cheerful introduction enlightened Drelana as to his origins, and she couldn’t help but believe that part of what he said since, now that she thought about it, everything about him seemed to fit the descriptions she had heard of Aiel; everything except the beast. However, the huntress still felt uneasy around the man; but she knew that holding the bow up at him was sure to get either him or his pet agitated, so she returned the arrow to the quiver at her hip and swung the bow onto her back, complying to his suggestion. Drelana took a couple of careful steps forward, saying, “My name is Drelana, I am from the southern land of Tear and I am a huntress. But just because I’m a woman and I’m young doesn’t mean I’m fool enough to trust an armed stranger, Master Cor,” she paused, violet eyes cold and wary, then said, “Make yourself vulnerable.” Drelana doubted he would acquiesce. Even if he does disarm himself he is far from vulnerable. It was an effort for her not to rest her hand on the hilt of the dirk, or slip out the knife she had hidden beneath her leather vest. Drelana looked him up and down and realized that her best bet would be to run if he attacked her, though she highly doubted she could outrun the towering man, much less the lion. Unease threatened to take hold and she fought it off as she silently hoped what he said was true and that she had not offended him.
  18. Afternoon had just arrived, bringing with it lengthening shadows that somehow seemed to enhance the beauty of the outdoors. Trees glittered and sang as their leaves swished together and the musical voices of many flying creatures ebbed continuously on the softly sighing wind. Drelana lost herself in it all, as though she were not some naturally corrupt human, but one of the magical things that resided untamed beyond the realms of cities and settlements. It had been a wonderful day, just as every day she spent among nature had been. Drelana’s muscles ached slightly at the rushing pace she had set all morning and there was a vague gnawing in her stomach, but she was in rapture. She was flying. The young woman began to slow reluctantly as she neared her northern destination, thinking of a day a few years ago when she had told her father that she would not be staying with them, that she had decided to leave to pursue her dream of learning more about what she had some small amount of knowledge of, and smiled sadly recalling how difficult it had been for them both. Immediately after that she had taken to traveling as a distraction from worries for her sister and grief for her uncle. Drelana wished she had gone to live with her uncle earlier than she had so that she could’ve been trained more. He might’ve had the chance to see her quite skilled had she had those extra years of training; which was actually why she found herself in a land she might never have desired to go. She wanted to learn about the different terrain that different parts of the world held, and she wanted to find someone to teach her a little more and she had heard that there were many fighters in Cairhien and figured a fighter would be able to help her. And so the young huntress found herself in this dreaful, war-filled nation of suffering people and of people who inflicted suffering. Drelana crept into a large copse to find something to shoot; having neglected to eat even a small morsel of bread for breakfast, her hunger was escalating and she looked foreword to having some meat for brunch. She took off her cloak so that she could creep into little spaces without it getting caught on branches, tucked it into her pack and then put an arrow to her bow, before creeping into where the vegetation ran thicker. The young huntress managed to reach a clearing before she detected any sign of something she could eat and then just a few paces from where she stood she sighted a rabbit, raised her bow and pulled the arrow back, pulling in a breath as she did so. Drelana fell into deep concentration becoming utterly unaware of her surroundings, save for the little creature she hunted. She no longer felt the breeze stirring her loose, dark hair, no longer noticed the sun warming her cheek, or heard the music of birds and insects. She knew not that she had been being watched, and was now completely unaware of the stranger who lurked nearby. OOC: Hope it's ok; tell me if you'd like me to change anything^ Drelana
  19. For an instant Badriyah could almost swear that the Aes Seai before her was at least a little offended by the way she had spoken, but then whatever she had been able to discern became utterly invisible to her to the extent that for a moment she had to wonder if that was what she had really read. The psychopath longed suddenly (and rather surprisingly) for the day when she’d be able to conceal things and fool people so well, a day she hoped would come. She would walk the world as an ageless goddess and do absolutely as she pleased with no care for others, just as she had before, but she wouldn’t have to take such great care to make sure no one found out about her killings. Ahh, what a day that would be! The crazed girl was brought out of the fearful, blood-soaked world she envisioned so rapturously abruptly as her superior spoke, “She is waiting for you elsewhere. I will lead you to her.” and then, “Follow.” Badriyah waited and watched a moment before obeying, stepping along rather carelessly until they reached a door that led to a room the novice suspected lodged Vera Sedai; and was completely taken aback when the Gray sister escorting her turned the door handle and entered the room, leaving the door ajar for Badriyah to enter and then closing it behind her. Such a fool, she thought about herself, That I didn’t automatically assume a woman lingering in the corridor so near Vera Sedai’s quarters wasn’t the Aes Sedai I’ve been looking for herself! though Badriyah couldn’t really decide whether or not she wanted her mentor to know how she felt about Aes Sedai. Perhaps it would prove to be a good thing, was what the young woman tried to convince herself of, though a whisper of unease hissed to her. Badriyah
  20. Badriyah gasped as she felt invisible bonds circle her hands and was lifted off her feet quite abruptly and pulled back. What under the Light…? How bizarre! And when she realized that it was an Accepted who stood in the doorway she was suddenly sure that the other woman had used saidar somehow, to put an end to their battle. It can only be that it is the True Source that keeps us from moving; I don’t think there is anything else that has such powers. The door swung shut and the raven-haired Accepted seated herself on one of the beds, looking what Badriyah could only read as resigned through her smooth, authoritative expression. The crafty Murandian’s mind was racing as she began to thread together a good lie and tried to figure out how to get the other girl to play along even before the intruder asked what the reason for the fight was. But before Badriyah could utter a syllable her roommate spoke, “I be trying to escape. Yeah. You be hearing right. Escape. You no be keeping me here. I be trying for the window, but she no be giving up her sheets.” and pointed an accusing thumb at Badriyah, who was quite pleased with the other girl’s answer. Her roommate had made it sound as though she were the one who had started the violence, which suited the Lugarder so well she might have kissed the other had her movement not been limited by the Source. When the Accepted turned her gaze to the young psychopath, she figured she should offer an answer. So, suppressing a smile, she said, “Forgive me, uh, Accepted, but this girl wished to leave! I didn’t want to give her my sheets because I didn’t want to be accused of assisting her. I – I wasn’t planning to hurt her with the glass…” Badriyah tactfully managed to bring tears to her eyes, and choked up as she continued, “I was just going to threaten her so that she’d stop fighting me and then I could fetch an Aes Sedai or call out the door for help. Maybe I,” she sighed, and then rather dramatically, “Maybe I did wrong, I’m sorry! I’ve just been so confused and I didn’t know what to do!” The sixteen-year-old wept childishly, sobbing that she was sorry, that she was just having such a difficult time settling in, and that she wanted her mother.She could only hope that at least the Accepted would fall for it... Badriyah
  21. Shahed crouched on the ground outside the tent the Wise Ones used for questioning, staring down at the sand almost as though she were dosing, though she was as alert as ever. The young Maiden knew that guarding the tent that was used for questioning was an extremely important task and that she had to concentrate on her surroundings perhaps more than were she guarding anything else, if that were even possible. All kinds of people were taken to the questioning tent, including some extremely dangerous wetlanders who could cause much trouble if they escaped or were allowed to roam free; and for these reasons Shahed remained as vigilant as she could be. Shahed disliked waiting around outside the city of Cairhien. Being a Maiden she was used to travel and ever since they had entered the wetlands it had been difficult not to long to journey further and see more of the world. It was irritating that some of them, including herself, weren’t allowed to go help the Car’a’carn and protect him on his travels, especially since the Maidens carried his honor. Shahed wanted to be fighting his enemies and learning more about different wetlanders and their battle skills. But she knew there was nothing one young Maiden could do but wait for orders from above. The wind stirred the dust before her causing majestic eddies that spun, hesitated, and then dissipated as though they feared appearing at this place for what they may witness. Perhaps that poor treekiller woman in the city is correct, perhaps the wind does carry ghosts. The Aiel girl smiled as she thought fancifully and then rolled her eyes at her childishness, though her smile never faded. She ran a tanned, long–fingered hand through her red-gold hair to push back her bangs, but alas they fell forward again as they always did. Shahed supposed she was childish in that she had a wild imagination, but couldn’t really bring herself to care; and soon fell back into the world of invisible spirit spies swirling through the air. Shahed’s daydreams ceased the moment she caught sight of a clan chief approaching, though she didn’t make a fuss about it and glanced up passively, then shot a discreet gaze at the other nearby tents and pathways before turning to the girl on guard with her offering a comment in hand-talk about the length of time they would be watching, and then about the location of the nearest sweat tent. The other agreed to take her there in the evening, which pleased Shahed, since she preferred to have someone she knew to talk to while she cleansed off. The two continued to bond silently, it was when the first prisoner to be questioned arrived that they ceased. It was not an out-of-ordinary sight really, a stony-faced Aiel warrior with a wetlander swung over his shoulder, naked from the waist down with welt-marks across her backside, nearing the tent. The warrior seemed quite outraged to Shahed, though she had to read his whole manner to understand it and the woman could not possibly be feeling much better. The Far Dareis Mai tried to get a glimpse of the woman’s face as she was carried into the tent, since she was obviously some trouble and it might be important to know who she is. After turning once to flash a remark about foolish wetlander women, the Far Dareis Mai settled back to her vigil. Shahed
  22. “That do be it, fade lover!” Badriyah was startled out of her trance as the other girl pounced on her, knocking her over; and the next thing she knew the two of them were rolling around on the floor, hitting, pinching, and pulling hair. “The Light burn you!”, cried the Lugarder as the small of her back slammed against one of the legs of her roommate’s bed. She tried to ignore the pain, knowing that it would distract her from the fight at hand, which may lead to her losing her bedsheets. Badriyah gripped her roommate’s fingers, twisting them backwards viciously as she tried to pound her stomach with blows from her little fist. But Badriyah was knocked away almost immediately and they tumbled across the room again. At some point the young masochist realized she might be able to do a better job of cornering the other if she were standing up and so pushed the other girl down as she struggled to stand and might’ve been surprised by the other allowing this and then rising herself had she not been busy trying to think of a way to get her under control. Then the frustrating roommate pelted herself at Badriyah again, who suffered as a cushion for the other girl from the sharp edges of the wooden dresser that dug into her skin as the seemingly massive obstruction collapsed to the floor. Her roommate rose and suddenly the two of them were propelling whatever they could find at each other. She clenched her teeth as the other girl tossed an uneven piece of wood off the dresser at her that hit her arm hard, ripping her sleeve and leaving splinters in her paper-white skin. Several other projectiles were sent through the air between them, including three, not-so-empty inkpots, before Badriyah was struck with what she thought of as a brilliant idea. She threw her fist into the sole window in their room carelessly, shattering it intentionally for a sharper, more deadly weapon: a shard of glass. If this didn’t make the other girl behave she would have to try to use the conveniently ripped and tied sheets to tie her hands and feet together. And if that proved to be too difficult, as she assumed it would, she might end up using the sheets to strangle her. Badriyah thought that quite a waste of a human body, since it brought death faster, which meant there would be less time for blood-drawing torture; but if the other girl pushed her that far, she felt she would have no choice but to do it. And though blood might not be drawn in such amounts as would be truly satisfying, the psychopath knew it would be enjoyable. She didn’t consider that her roommate, who seemed to have experience with fighting, might harm her seriously before she could carry out any of her newly-thought-of plans. For all Badriyah knew, the other girl might have it in her to kill another as well; but none of this even crossed her mind then. With a wordless battle cry, a shriek that rang and echoed in her own ears, Badriyah charged almost clumsily at her roommate, reasonably-sized pieces of glass in each hand. She was dimly aware of a new presence in the room as she tripped and stumbled across the debris-littered floor, but was determined not to allow any who had come to watch the fight make her hesitate. Badriyah
  23. Badriyah observed all that was around her and made sure to take note of it as she was escorted to her room. She almost wished they had found her unable to channel and had hired her as a servant instead. Were she to be a servant, rather than an Aes Sedai, she would likely not have her superiors watching her as closely as these women who ruled the world would watch her. How am I to survive? There is only so much blood to drain from this body; but lives in this place seem to be in great abundance. Could they really need all these cooks and maids, all these novices and Accepted? And few initiates would ever gain the shawl. Well the more useless ones I may be able to corner and enjoy. Of course it would have to be without my superiors knowing…ahh, there’s a great challenge. thought the shrewd psychopath, her lips twisting in an expression of distaste. The White Tower was, however, the only place she could go in the world where the crimes she had committed previously would be of no importance to others; the only place, perhaps, where she would be given a second chance if she could manage to gain control of her cravings and diminish them. The two women started into a massive gallery where white - clad girls of all shapes and sizes darted about the hallways like ants, most not daring to meet the gaze of the grumpy Accepted who escorted Badriyah to her quarters. They soon arrived at a miniscule chamber that accommodated a couple of beds, a wash basin, a closet and little else worthy of mention. As they entered, the Accepted said, “Here are your apartments, child, you are to dress in your novice garb immediately. Discard your other clothing, you will no longer have use of it. Don’t try to channel and behave yourself.” before bustling off, leaving Badriyah alone in her new quarters. The young novice washed her dusty face and undid the laces of her blouse before tossing it under the bed, then removed her breeches and stowed them away along with the blouse. The Accepted doubted she would have use of them but perhaps they would come of some use if she were forced to escape this place in the future. Once she was fully dressed she lay down on one of the little beds to take a nap and closed her eyes. Her frantic journey and the excitement of the day had left her worn with fatigue. Badriyah was asleep in moments. Sometime later, as she shifted and turned over with the intention of sleeping a little longer, she was startled fully awake at the sound of the door opening and sat up abruptly to face another brown – haired novice. The Murandian scowled darkly. She knew then that the Light would have her facing trials endlessly in this snowy prison. _________________ Badriyah Bloodlover Novice Badriyah’s bio ------------------------------------------------------------- Rory slammed the door behind her and cursed enough to melt wax. She had just been dragged off to her room by Saline and Rossa, even though neither had them had introduced themselves to her yet and she had been forced to learn up their names through other means. It took her a moment to even become aware that the room was occupied by another. This fact merely spurred her defamation of character—or libel, considering—to new levels of won’t-somebody-please-think-of-the-children. The other girl looked just as absurd in the white frock as she suspected she herself would, and there was not a remote chance in Blight that she was going to don hers without a mighty struggle. Bloody and bloody, bloody Creator Damned, Dark One kissing, Light Fool slapping, baby selling ashes! When she noticed the dark scowl her head almost exploded. Of course it could get worse, of course it would get worse, why shouldn’t it? Why should not the worst, most horrifying day of her life without end last just that little bit longer, get just that little bit worse. Why they were so interested in her mystified the inn keeper’s daughter, why she was not allowed to leave, and why they were getting away with imprisoning her. Who were these women? She spotted the window. Yes! Her thoughts began to shape around an emerging idea, the little horn rising from the sea of troubles to become an even bigger one. Her bed was utilitarian, with few blankets, covers, or sheets, but if she cut them up and threaded them together, along with the other bed . . . she just may be able to get out of the window. Yes! She turned to the other girl and said conversationally, “I’m going to need your bed sheets,” before starting to tear at her own with her bare hands and teeth. ------------------------------------------------------------ Badriyah blinked, startled out of sleepiness at the angry-faced girl who entered the room scowling. As the intruder noticed her new roommate she shot her a sour look which the Murandian girl didn't really mind. What did it matter that the girl found her distasteful? I suppose it’s better than having the girl after me to be her pillow friend, thought the sixteen-year-old. It suddenly occurred to her how little she thought of romance. She decided after a few moments’ speculation that she had a strong preference for men, though torture seemed a far more entertaining hobby than seducing the naïve boys of Tar Valon. The other girl informed her that she would be needing the Lugarder’s bed sheets, which Badriyah thought curious. Would anything of significance come of questioning the other? Did she need her own bed sheets? There did seem to be a little draft in the room and she liked being warmer than most did. No, she wouldn’t be giving the girl her sheets. The roommate began tearing her own sheets and tying them, in a way that made it obvious to Badriyah that she was planning to try to escape. The young brunette watched silently for some time, ignoring the other’s comment. Eventually she said, “You may use your novice dresses, but you will not get my sheets. Why run? Where can you go where you will not be caught by somebody?” She said rather blandly, though she believed it thoroughly, in her own case as well; except that for Badriyah it was more of a matter of wanting to escape the world as though that could help her escape herself and what she’d done. But why did this girl want to run away so badly? Badriyah cleared her throat and said, “So this is because of me being here? I really don’t care for this place either, but fear not, I’m not going to try to befriend you. And I’d love to have you leave so that I could have the chamber to myself, but I don’t think you can manage it so I’m not going to help you.” Badriyah _________________ Badriyah Bloodlover Novice Badriyah’s bio ------------------------------------------------------------- “ What? Oh sure. I do be taking one look at your ugly mug and I be wanting to be jumping out the window. Come to think of it, you do be the spitting image of spilt pint. “Perhaps you be coming here by choice. Not me. I be in the bar having a cool drink to soothe the hours of travel, and I end up in this light cursed place. Not even so much as a by your leave ma’am. Well, I will not stand for it. Would you believe that I be chased down the hall by at least three of them? That’s right, three, chasing me down the hall like I am some kind of naughty puppy in need of schooling. The nerve. Not only will my ale be warm, but it’ll be flat, mark my words. I be leaving, and I be needing your sheets to do it, I don’t wish to be mean, but one way or the other I be getting those sheets.” Ripping bed sheets into strips was much harder work than it first appeared. If they didn’t come out straight they would be practically useless, more than practically useless: absolutely useless. So Rory had to move slowly and diligently and hope she moved fast enough to escape before anyone came to check. Naughty puppies always get checked on, she knew this by personal experience. Well, they’d be lucky if this naughty puppy didn’t chew all the furniture and pee on the floor. The material was not exactly strong, but then it didn’t have to hold her weight for long, she was in reasonably good shape and figured she could get down to the ground before anything snapped. What kind of person lived in a great big tower anyway? Was a little odd to Rory’s thinking. Better to live on the flat, or at least in something easy to move about in. What about all these stairs? How anyone managed to get back to their room was something she’d have liked an answer to. She could plait the sheets, yes, that would work, but it’d also take far too long in the making and no doubt she would be thwarted by the mentally deficient maniacs guarding her prison cell. Well, she’d see if they could stop her this time. Once she was home, she’d never leave. Ever. And especially not on any trip to Tar Valon. Wonder of the world. Bollocks. With her own sheets torn and assembled to form what could pas—by stretch of the imagination—as a rope of some sort, she turned back to the other bed and its uncooperative occupant. “I be needing those sheets now.” ------------------------------------------------------------= Badriyah gathered by the rant that her roommate had been collected and brought to the Tower by force, which explained her desperation and resolution not to stay. However, she could not bring herself to care about the other’s feelings, much less try to imagine them. This girl was just present as an extreme annoyance to her and she would pay heed to no other aspect of her roommate’s existence. As she watched the other girl use up her bedsheets in the making of this impossible rope she thought would help her escape, Badriyah could not help but wonder what she would do about the matter. Under no circumstances would she surrender her sheets to this spoiled, stubborn girl who demanded them as though she had a right to that which was not hers. If the Lugarder’s roommate challenged her words with action she would have no choice but to defend what belonged to her. Badriyah’s thoughts in response to the bold words the unwanted novice spoke was silent: One way or another you will not be getting them! One way…or another. “I be needing those sheets now.” came the roommate’s Illianer - accented voice ominously. The psychopathic young woman felt her whole body tense as the other turned and approached her bed intending, she supposed, to snatch the covers out from beneath her. Alert, stubborn, and mad with a feeling of possessiveness, Badriyah lunged at the young thief with razor-sharp nails, knocking her onto the floor. “You will not touch my things!” she cried as she pulled her hair and ears and even attempted to give her a black eye, though she did not have great physical strength in her arms. Badriyah’s blood bubbled with adrenalin and anger with such fury that she could not help but lose herself to it even though it took effort to try to strike the restless other. And then she dug her nails into the girl’s shoulder and felt skin give way to the blood-filled flesh beneath. The crazed novice was suddenly filled with calm and hesitated as she watched the fresh, warm liquid drip from her nails. OOC: Tell me if you'd like me to change anything! Badriyah _________________ Badriyah Bloodlover Novice Badriyah’s bio ------------------------------------------------------------- Where Badriyah had found a measure of calm in the drawing of Rory’s blood; Rory, in the drawing of her own blood found a measure of disbelief, shaded around the edges by an oncoming black mood. Rory had been perfectly reasonable—not to mention polite—in regard to her “room mate.” Asking for her bed sheets had been a small thing, not some monumental occasion worthy of ... whatever in the light that was! And the way she kept staring at her bleeding shoulder. It was off putting, and making Rory incalculably peevish. “That do be it, fade lover!” Nothing beat the classics, and while the insult in itself was not lost on the other novice, it was benign. What followed—Rory using her body as a projectile to knock the other woman to the floor—was not so easy to shrug. Rory, of course, had typically not thought the action through and she found herself tripping and toppling along with the other, which was far from the intention. A thumb in the eye, a scratch or two, some hair pulling, and they were off; rolling around on the floor as though they were conjoined. No serious blows were landed, merely kindling to further the passion. It was possible that neither was skilled, but neither could be accused of not quickly getting into the swing of it. Rory did wish Badriyah would let go of her hair, but then she could hardly expect that when she herself was pulling at a handful as one would the rope on a church bell. Each using the other as a support to climb, they got back to a (relatively) upright position; there were enough curses thrown around to make a sailor not only blush, but actually catch fire. Wondrously, not only did they land on the dresser, but went up and over it, bringing it along with them as they crashed back into the floor. They needn’t have bothered standing at all really. Rory was unsure if the idea belonged to her or Badriyah, or possibly it was by neutral consent that they took stock of their surroundings and the multitude of useful weapons, not to mention the various ways in which each could be utilised. Rory first attempted to throw a pillow, as it was the nearest object. Abandoning that doomed project, she next began hurling brushes and shoes and anything that looked like it had a solid edge to it. Badriyah to her credit was doing equally well and finding her own array of projectile weapons, landing a blow upon the side of Rory’s face and leaving a purple welt. A detached piece of Rory hoped that noise didn’t travel too well down the corridor; else the pair would be in trouble over this “incident.” The detached piece warned caution—very sound advice—but sadly the other part of Rory had given up listening, for it had found the inkpots. --------------------------------------------------------------
  24. With eyebrows arched in slightest hint of irritation, Badriyah knocked on the door for the third time, hard enough to send a whisper of pain through her knuckles. Where was this Vera, her mentor? How long had she been waiting now? The young Murandian turned to survey the hallway and stepped away from the door to examine a wall-hanging a little more closely. She did not know whether ones who wielded the Power so often ever felt fatigue - she doubted they did actually - which made her wonder why the Aes Sedai was refusing to answer the door. Perhaps she wished to teach her new mentee patience? Was she busy communing with another? Or was it merely that she wished to express her authority over the new initiate she had been given charge of by making her wait until it pleased her to open the door? I cannot allow myself to become irritated over such a small matter. I will be required to face far more trying tests in this place. Badriyah turned her face away from the scene depicted in the artwork, it would not calm her were she to allow herself to be sucked into an artist’s passionate world. Must this – “Are you looking for someone, Novice?” The young woman’s thoughts were startled out of her by the calm, confidant tone of an Aes Sedai. She turned somewhat slowly to an emotionless gaze from eyes set in an ageless face framed by dark hair. Try as she might, she could not guess the origin of this woman by merely looking at her, not having communicated often with travelers from other nations in the wild, dangerous life she had led in Lugard. Badriyah replied without hesitating or stumbling over her words, “A gray sister: Vera,” and almost as an afterthought she added casually, “Sedai”. Badriyah
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