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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SeventhMovement|Seventh Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == A Dance of Diplomats ==
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| − | '''Esher: ''' The smoke that filled the room was as thick as cotton and as sweet as pomegranate juice. The ass nestled in his lap was round and firm and hot as a baked apple just plucked from the coals. The oils being massaged into his ears were more poison than lubricant, a bitter-sweet symphony soaking into his skin with a thousand needles of pain. Esher wouldn't have it any other way.
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| − | The north man was pale in that same wintery fashion as most of his nation tended to be. But his hair was green in a way few were, split evenly down the middle of his head and flaring out to frame his face. Or what could be seen of it, from behind the high round collar he wore, a fixture of white and brown that nestled beneath his nose. There was only eyes to him, darkly set bellow an arching brow, and ears that elongated into narrow points. Dark stripes raced across his cheeks and swung down from the corners of his eyes, like the warpaint on a barbarian mongrel. But his dress was far to rich to mistake him for such, dripping with gold threads and ivory and the shimmer of dreams harvested with a delicate hand.
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| − | There was no denying that the pleasure houses up north had nothing upon the decadence of Great Forks. And for a Hanslanti delegate with hours, even possibly days to kill before his part in the negotiations was to be played, what better place was there to kill him?
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| − | The woman on his lap and the young boy nestled in the crook of his arm were dark skinned, figures seemingly carved from ebony. Their bodies were painted with bright tattoos and gleaming silver pierced their nipples and other, less comfortable places. Perhaps not paramount of the universal standard of beauty, but they were very well shaped and very skilled at what they did. A taste of the exotic, for one who could find pale flesh anywhere back home. The collars around their necks marked their place in this society. Slaves. Their skin marked their standing among those. ''Expendable'' slaves.
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| − | Esher had paid handsomely for this right, to live like his sire for a while. To suck the hopes and dreams out of someone until they were little else but an empty husk. It was the sort of pleasure he could have hardly indulged in, back home. And one he was taking his time in savoring now.
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| − | The half-fae stared up at the woman who gyrated slowly in his lap, beckoned her closer with a twinkle in his dark gaze. The obedient thing leaned forward eagerly as reached a gloved hand to the hem of his high collar, tugging it down just a little...
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| − | ... to revel the great fanged nothing bellow and the cold beating light of his Heart. He breathed in, wisps of pale blue light drawing out of the slave-womans eyes and mouth and nose, spiraling together as they vanished into the hollow emptiness bellow his face. And her eyes grew a little more empty. Her face a little more slack. Her motions more mechanical. Esher sighed in content and pushed her back, letting his collar rise to hide his face again.
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| − | Truly, this was living.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael stepped into the dark confines of the bar, his eyes soon adjusting to that, if not to the smoke that hung thick in the air. His hair was brushed so it fell down over one eye, his coat long and black tonight, the edges still trimmed with a gold that didn't quite shimmer naturally. Below that, his shirt was patterned white silk, a dragon of air swirling around his body, his pants plain but obviously made of high quality materials. His fingers are adorned with the usual rings, all save one.
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| − | He's heard that several members of the Haslanti group frequented this place from a number of people, and so he was going to look for them tonight...
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' ''Oh, how embarrassingly insufferable. ''
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| − | The slender, shapely woman standing stiffly some distance away from Esher hardly lets her eyes glimpse over the man and his slaves for the day before averting her gaze again. They are not unappealing eyes by any means, a pale, if frosty blue, framed by oval shaped spectacles with a fine silver chain dangling behind them. Her hair is an ash blonde that shines silvery in the light (if there is enough light even present, what with the cloying smoke all around) bound up in a bun atop her head but for her long bangs stretching well past her chin, almost to breast level.
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| − | It is not that she has no such appetites of her own. Certainly not the SAME sort -- especially not when her colleague is the sort to suck up sentiments as much as the sweat and juices on his lovers' bodies -- but she had her own reasons beyond profit and politics to want to visit Forks, as well. Her own, ''private'' reasons. Certainly none that one could see underneath her current garb, an azure fitted blazer appropriately knee-length skirt, very business-like, very sparing yet elegant in its simplicity. A lace-trimmed cream shaded blouse fills in the v-neck of her blazer, the collar rising all the way up to her neck in a short series of ruffles. White tights, just a touch transparent, cover her legs and her feet are in low heels dyed to match the rest of her outfit.
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| − | "Now, now, Esher, we are here for a purpose, we ought to at least pay attention for the few moments we are ''supposed'' to." No matter that the collars and chains those slaves wore so willingly held their own appeal for her. ''Later'' she reminds herself, smiling at the Wood Elemental across from the table to her, more a polite than an open and friendly smile. Unlike her wayward companion, her business mode is currently switched to "on".
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| − | '''Esher: ''' '''''Margulia, you saucy minx, don't tease me so. You know as well as I that business '''is''' pleasure in Great Forks. '''''
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| − | Eshers answer, as smooth as cream and black as velvet, slid across the room to his fellow diplomat. There was no real sound to it. It was caress across the surface of her mind, soft and subtle as the gloved hand that slowly traversed the chest of the young slave boy curled up beside him.
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| − | '''''It is their way. Who are we to strain against the cultures of those we seek favors from? Be a good diplomat and join me for a little indulgence, before you offend our hosts. '''''
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| − | '''Cael: ''' ''Ah, there two of them are ... Esher and ... Margulia, if Shara described them correctly. ''
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| − | ''Esher with his ... slaves or food. Both, it seemed. ''
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| − | ''Margulia on the other hand, seems to be doing business, with an Elemental. ''
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| − | Cael starts to drift through the room towards the woman, slowly. He stops on the way to buy himself a drink, and again to watch a pair of dancers, male and female, entwined on a stage. Soon though, he is near to the woman and her elemental business partner, idly listening in as he watches a dancer across the bar, the view spoiled alittle by the coils of smoke.
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia turns sharp eyes to Esher once more. "I prefer to be fully focused on my task at hand. There are times for pleasure, and there are times for work, and I will be damned if I do not do both equally well."
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| − | ''And I am quite certain my hosts do not think of me as disrespectful, '' she adds mentally, with a small, self-serving smile.
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| − | ''Whichever side of the whip I am on. ''
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| − | Returning her attention to the elemental, who is staring at her in somewhat of a daze, she says, "I'm sure you will find our part of the bargain quite satisfactory, particularly to one so interested in rare northern blooms. I hope you reconsider your regrettably meager contribution; I am not so sure Kardale will be pleased." The last she adds with very deliberate yet seemingly nonchalant regret, and the spirit of Wood noticeably flinches.
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| − | She plucks away the documents resting on the table before him, placing them carefully into a folder, then begins to pick with obvious disinterest at her salad of succulent fruits and greens. "We will speak on this later when you have had more time to think," she concludes, and the elemental seems to consider this a dismissal, not quite hurrying away from the table.
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| − | '''Esher: ''' '''''Please. '''''
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| − | The word was spoken without imploring nor request. Esher's voice chortled, disgusted and affronted at that denial. But he left her to her work and returned to his own, such as it was. Gloved fingers stroked upwards against the young slaves oiled chest, cupping under his chin. Esher's eyes glinted like black pearls as he peered into the slave's half-hollowed gaze. The half-fae twisted down onto him, their faces growing close and his hand abandoning the boys chin to seek downwards again. The dark child shivered and wrapped his arms around Esher, clutching the diplomats back tightly. To an outside observer, it would have been easy to mistake it for a long and lingering kiss.
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| − | But the boys hands grew limp upon the half-faes back, sliding from his shoulders as a marionette with it's strings clipped away. The last whispers of the boys soul strung out from his dark lips as Esher leaned away, dangling between them like a glistening string of saliva until the diplomat drank it in. The boys eyes were ''completely'' hollow now. His heart still beat. His lungs still drew breath. His skin still sweated. But there was nothing but a bleak forever behind his eyes.
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| − | Esher put a hand to the young man's shoulder and shoved him from the couch, the boy crumply limply to the floor. He held up the hand which had been manipulating the young man and eyed the glistening fluid that stained the dark leather of his glove with curiosity and disgust. He thrust it up into the face of the still gyrating slave-woman.
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| − | '''''He dirtied my glove. Clean it. '''''
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| − | Her rocking ceased and she gripped his wrist, her mouth engulfing his fingers one by one. It was rather remarkable. In most other circumstances, a mother would likely be trying to kill someone for doing that to her son.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' ''An interesting negotiation technique. ''
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| − | ''I would certainly have to consider carefully the thought of Kardale being displeased. ''
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| − | ''In fact, that is almost why I am here. ''
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| − | Cael waits a moment more to see if the mysterious Esher will actually join his colleague the table the Wood Elemental had so recently vacated, but when it appears that he will not be joining her, and before any others might consider it, Cael puts on his very warmest demeanor and casually strolls his way over to the table, and somehow Margulia is very aware of his presence, an inclanation to look up, and a faint smile to greet her when she does.
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| − | "Do you mind if I join you? I could not help but hear you talk of rare northern blooms..."
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| − | He is not ignoring Esher, but then neither is he paying her attention. The accent he has affected and his rather mongrel appearance would put him as a local of the city, rather than a native of the league as his true home is...
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia weathers Esher's scorn easily, simply by not giving a damn. Convenient tactic, that, and of a wide range of use!
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| − | Now, the sight of this interesting... local? is welcome enough, at the very least something to keep her attention away from Esher turning his slaves into vegetables. At least here, no one would ask questions about it.
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| − | She turns to the man curiously, peering at him over the rim of her spectacles before offering a smile that transforms her normally severe features to something much easier on the eyes. It is, of course, regrettably brief, but it is without a doubt an expression of welcome.
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| − | Well, why not welcome a charming stranger?
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| − | "Perhaps you may," she begins, indifferently enough -- it would not do to sound too impressed. "To whom do I have the honor of speaking to?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Cael." He says with an easy indifference and a most grateful smile as he seats himself in the chair across from her, taking a sip of his drink and settling himself more comfortably, the coat opening somewhat to reveal the white shirt below.
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| − | "And you, most business-like lady?" The delivery of the words certainly not in a manner to cause offence, but rather a certain challenge there. An implication that perhaps she might be more than businesslike, something he might be interested in.
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| − | "And what brings a northern flower such as yourself to the city?"
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' "Hmm... interesting name..." In fact, a quite infamous given name, for those who know of the Windwraith in Haslanti. She shrugs it off though, not particularly suspicious; there could be many Caels out there. In fact, it is quite difficult for her to dislike this man at all.
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| − | "I am Margulia Glacis, We are visiting from Haslanti. On business, as you have no doubt surmised by now." She raises her eyebrows, folding her arms in front of her as she takes in the sight of him more... attentively. "But not ''only'' for business. What interest have you in the flora of the north? Surely the East holds a bounty of lovely flowers to choose from, for a man of such discerning taste?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael seems moderately amused at her consideration of his name being interesting, if the smile that spreads across his face is any judge of his feelings on the matter, though he passes no overt comment.<br>
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| − | ''Oh, if only you knew... ''
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| − | "Margulis..." He tries the name, perhaps to her surprise not butchering it in the way that surely many of the city have, and seems to approve of this, too.
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| − | "Ahh, the league is a long way north from here...it must be important business to travel so far south.." He gives a little shake of his head before she might start to suspect he was trying to get information from her. "Though it's good that you are not here only for business ..."
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| − | He shrugs a little at her question. "A bounty, and yet a flower of the north blooms here so rarely it is still a thing to be sought out when it can be found. I have an interest in Creation."
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| − | And this was in fact no lie, however smoothly it might have been delivered.
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia smiles at her name on Cael's lips, but does not make any other outward reaction... not so soon anyway.
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| − | "Yes, important is the word indeed. Though our purpose here is manifold. There are certain specialties in this city that we do not find in the League. Not that we lack... comforts, not at all. But we do crave variety."
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| − | Her eyebrows raise at the 'interest in creation'... "I wonder, do you believe our presence here threatening? Or merely surprising?" Margulia does not seem at all discomfited by either possibility, pushing aside her salad now and resting her elbows on the table so her hands cradle her chin.
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| − | Gazing at him curiously through her oval glasses, she adds, "Or is your interest in me more... personal?" ''Because that is an entirely different game, indeed. ''
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Ahh, craving variety. That feeling I know only too well." He smiles and takes a sip from his drink. "And you have most certainly come to the right city. The city prides itself on that." He says, to reassure her perhaps, though it must be needless.
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| − | "I cannot honestly say I know enough of your presence here to call it threatening, it is a curiousity though." He shrugs with artful indifference, evidently curious about the Haslanti, but not so curious as to want to spoil a perfectly good conversation over something Margulis may not wish to speak of.
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| − | Through her glasses as she asks the Margulis can surely see a slightly daring gleam in Cael's eye, as would only be appropriate for one flirting with a chosen of the dragons.
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| − | "My interest right now is definately in you, though."
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| − | ''Finding out about the haslanti will come later''
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia lets her glance travel briefly towards Esher... ''Oh, he'll be busy. He wouldn't notice if the whole tavern burst into flame, in that state. ''
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| − | "Well, then..." The Air Aspect's legs slither together, crossing underneath her skirt. "We are even, because I am equally interested in you. What a coincidence that you have come to this specific establishment, and chosen me of all those here to speak with." She is not so certain it is coincidence; these are her business hours, not her pleasure ones. But she need not say that part aloud.
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| − | "I will not accept being just a mere passing indulgence for a stranger, though. As flattering as your attention may be." Her smile broadens... icily, yet... inviting. Challenging.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Aahhh, but who else was I to speak to? Your erstwhile companion, recipient of many glances but far more interested in the pretty pair on his lap and what he can ... draw from them? That is not really to my taste...." He shrugs with an idle indifference which also excludes the rest of the bar.
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| − | "You won't?" He makes an upset face, though it's quite obvious that the challenge has been accepted from the gleam in his eyes as he takes a drink, letting himself savour the wine.
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| − | ''Definately made the right choice here. Mmmm, should be an interesting night. Which ever way it ends up going. ''
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| − | He pauses then, and looks slightly remiss. "Oh, that is remiss of me. Here we have been talking all this time, and I have yet to ask you how you find the city during your short stay? Have you visited any of the baths ... or parlours?"
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulis seems quite pleased Esher's taste is not to Cael's liking. She settles contentedly into conversation, folding her fingers with their perfectly pearlescent fingernails in front of her. "It is lovely here. Bountiful in a way the North can but emulate."
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| − | "To put it short... Forks is an indulgence for us. My purpose here is ever on my mind, but ah, negotiations are slow. And delicate. I have sampled much of what this fine city has to offer... the strong presence of gods and spirits here, makes for a unique bouquet of experiences. Fine foods and confections, music and scents that bring the most wondrous of dreams to your pillow -- and other, more... intensive manners of relaxation."
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| − | As her tone turns more suggestive, Margulia's blue eyes turn smoky... almost literally, swirls of white forming in her blue eyes, blending into an enchanting blue-grey. Her legs underneath the table shift slightly, crossing more tightly together. But her tone continues to remain level... almost... indifferent. Firmly controlled.
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| − | "I assume you are much more familiar with the environs than I... have you any suggestions as to how I might spend my free time?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Ah, yes. But then the beauty of the North that I have seen is that much more precious for it's delicacy..." The small gestures and intonations suggesting that she is indeed such a beauty, and so precious.
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| − | "I can only sympathise with your negotiations ... but I am glad your wait here is not too onerous, at least."
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| − | "How to spend your time though, with those smokey white eyes of yours...mmm?" His expression making it clear that he is considering the question seriously. Or just loosing himself in her eyes.
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| − | "I suppose that would depend on how you wished to indulge yourself, really. If you wish for the more physical side of things, I can most definately recommend to you the Seven Shades Willow, on the waterfront in the arena district. They offer many baths to relax in, and if you wish for more, the boys or girls, if that is to your taste, are willing and abled to pamper in a number of ways..." He gives her a few moments to digest this, as he takes another sip of the wine.
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| − | "Of course, unless I'm completely mistaken about you, you might prefer the Glowing Lantern Alley." He says, a slightly mysterious smile on his face.
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia's eyebrows raise slowly, legs crossing over the other way now; she leans over the table, minutely, but... just enough to put a sense of urgency to her pose. Just a little. Oh how she enjoys to play with the subtlety of things. A little bit here, a little bit there, to spark the interest, to get the blood pumping... to make the chase worth chasing.
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| − | If it is a chase she wants. Why -- she has the entire night to decide.
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| − | "The Seven Shades is indeed delightful. You are a patron there? I am surprised we have not met sooner." More likely, the sharp senses and intuitions of Shara discovered her there... but that is a truth Margulia will never know. For the record, Cael does know she prefers the boys. "But I have not heard of this ... Glowing Lantern Alley."
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| − | Her fingers, resting on the table, fold and unfold slowly, back and forth. They seem quite limber, from the undulation motions she makes with them. Slender, yet strong.
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| − | "Might you tell me more?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' There is the subtlest brush of disappointment visible on Cael's face, something he must surely be trying to hide from Margulis, at the fact she had already heard of the Willow. But then that wasn't entirely surprising, at least to him. Not that he would show that to her, because that would reveal too much, too soon.
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| − | "Ah, so you have already found it? I am an occassional patron there, though I try not to frequent any one place too long. Though next time you are there, perhaps you might ask for Golden Dragonfly, if you have not been served by him before. He is comely to look at, as all of them are and he has a sweet mouth and ah.. ''knowledgable'' fingers." Of course she prefered boys. But then Cael was never particular about such things, so he could of course recommend. He wondered if she would take his advice. He supposed it would depend on how they parted.
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| − | "But aaah, the Glowing Latern Alley. It is not the most widely known of places, and of course, it only opens after dark since that is when it's patrons prefer to sample it's offerings." There is a suggestive undercurrent as he speaks, with just the slightest hint that he is perhaps diliberately misleading her as to the nature of the events. "But it is open between an hour after sunset and an hour before dawn. Still, I can think of no other place in the city that does what it does quite so well..."
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| − | He draws it out, hoping to get something of a rise from her, perhaps she will lean a little closer...?
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| − | "...And what it does is sell books."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: '''She does lean closer... her elbows on the table now, her chest... rising and falling, noticeably faster. "It... it sells..."
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| − | ''Books? ''
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| − | She repeats the word aloud, moments after her thoughts register what Cael has just said. "Books -- oh my. You.. you are truly a... a ''tease''." The last word comes out almost as a whisper. And this time he is rewarded with a blush, and a swirl of heat in those smoky eyes, flickers of lightning that gradually calm beneath a cloudy veneer.
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| − | Margulia leans back in her chair now, fussing with a lock of hair that has come loose, tucking it behind her ears. "I ''love'' books," she says with relish. "You would not believe how difficult they can be to come across in the League! Oral tradition is still predominant in areas. I -- I prefer things... in writing."
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "I ''am'' sorry."
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| − | He doesn't sound too sincere.
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| − | "Had I known I would elicit this response I would have been sure to mention it sooner." There is a small look on his face though, one that suggests that infact he knew this would be just the effect it would have, and that his delay was quite intentional. And that he knows he's won at least a small point. "Though it seems you might appreciate a tease..." he emphasises the word, subtle accents pitched just to make her blush once more.
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| − | "Perhaps though I can make it up to you? It is a pleasant stroll by the river to the Glowing Latern Alley and the Alley should just be opening as we get there..."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' "W..would you?" Margulia tries not to sound breathless. Oh she tries. But that threshold has been broken, and it is difficult to rebuild once it is broken. Still, there is propriety to be considered! She takes a deep breath to compose herself, fussing with her glasses once more, smoothing down the wrinkles in her slender knee length skirt.
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| − | "Yes, yes, that would be good, Wonderful, in fact!" The Air Aspect throws a glance at Esher, completely unguiltily, glad he is much too preoccupied to even make a comment. After all, she is just going for a walk. To see... a bookstore. Why that thrills her, why going with ''this'' man thrills her, she cannot quite explain. But she can feel, as palpably as the beat of blood in her temples, the undercurrent of something more, beneath the calm of an ordinary outing.
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| − | It is the feeling she gets when the two worlds she has split her life into collide.
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| − | "Esher, we will meet at the usual place, tomorrow." Not even caring to check whether the half-fae noticed, she smiles to the man called Cael... extending a hand.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' ''Ah, Shara, you will be getting some fish tomorrow for this''
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| − | Cael rises smoothly to his feet, his body almost glowing with calm, smooth reassurance as he takes her hand with a smile that promises much ... drama, mystery .... excitement!
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| − | "Well ...." He gently takes her hand. "It will be my pleasure to escort you there then. Perhaps we will find a book to suit your desires there ..." His voice rich in subtle inflection, playing a tune on her ears that is somehow greater than the mere words that make it up, suggestive, enticing and just a little bit naughty.
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| − | And with that he starts to lead her from the bar and out along the street towards the riverside, trading smalltalk on the nature of books and of reading as they go...
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| − | The walk by the riverside is pleasant in the early evening, the path well lit with laterns strung by the sides, the sounds of revelry coming from the temple complexes and tarverns that line this section of the river. This early in the night though, and the crowds are well behaved, letting the couple pass in their quiet conversation.
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| − | A short while later, Cael takes a turn away from the riverside, heading back towards more mercantile regions, before he takes a sudden left turn and spreads his arm in an inclusive gesture at the alleyway before them, even as he slips his other arm around her, resting it on her hip. His motion makes it seem so natural.
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| − | But what he's gesturing at probably has more of her attention at this point anyway.
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| − | A building build over the Alley way has a name in glowing Old Realm script, the ''Glowing Latern Alley'' and beyond that the Alley rises up the hill and into the night, hung with giant paper lanterns a metre across and lit in a dozen different warm shades of red, orange and purple. Beneath these laterns stand the proprietors of the shops and at least some of their wares, a library on the street and each man and woman standing infront of a shop that promises only more liguistic treasures.
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| − | "The Glowing Latern Alley..."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia stops to take in the sight of the shop, neither flinching away nor pulling too close when Cael's arm encircles her. "My... this is wonderful!"
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| − | Before now, she has been speaking to Cael about her passion for books on the history of nations. The rise and fall of kingdoms and societies now lost or irrevocably changed by the march of time. It fascinates her how Creation has changed, how mistakes are so often repeated as generations forget the lessons of the past. How fickle the common folk can be so long as their immediate needs are satisfied. Political philosophy seems to be a topic of interest for her as well -- the successes and flaws of hereditary kingdoms, theocracies, elected councils and so on.
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| − | Before that was art and architecture -- she has a fondness for the architecture of the Varang City-States, he has found, finding their geometric patterns organizationally pleasing to the eye. And before that, sorcery: about patterns purely physical, but in Essence and the elements. She is (unsurprisingly, now that Cael has developed a good idea of her taste) most familiar with and favoring the Silurian school of thought.
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| − | But now, sufficiently distracted by their arrival at the Glowing Lantern Alley, Margulia's meandering yet learned chatter about topics of interest has given way to an almost girlish enthusiasm. "Please, let's go in!" she says as she briefly clutches his arm, the smoke in her eyes glittering with paler blue pinpoints.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael keeps his side of the conversation up with admirable ease, obviously something of a student of the rise and fall of nations himself and well able to hold himself in the small debate that emerges. Likewise on sorcery, though his knowledge is obviously from the less priviledged possition of a mere thaumaturge, the energies of creation far beyond himself.
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| − | He himself speaks of his love of the art of writing itself, fighting down the urge to demonstrate on the air with golden words far too revealling and also of his desire to find more books on origami. It seems he prides himself somewhat on intricate things.
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| − | "Of course, it would be cruel to delay you now." He smiles at her with a gleam in his eye. "I think you might like to look within the shop of the Scribe. He collects political tomes of all stripes."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia smiles brilliantly -- she seemed almost an entirely different woman with such joy in her eyes -- allowing herself to be guided and advised on the contents of the different shops. For the moment she seems content to window-browse, not wanting to be tempted straight away by an impulsive buy; she makes careful note of all the books on display, letting out a gasp of delight whenever her eyes fall upon something particularly rare or unusual.
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| − | The Scribe's shop does indeed tempt her, and now that her demeanor has been sufficiently loosened by the talk and the books, she nearly pulls Cael along with her inside. She scans over several volumes... in fact, she scans at an impressive speed, flipping through the pages greedily as the proprietor gazes at her first with surprise and then understanding: ah, one of the Dragons. He eyes her closely as she browses; perhaps he has figured a woman of her ability would also have much money to spend.
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| − | Margulia seems particularly drawn by a slim and somewhat gruesome book on what seems to be experiments in political theory, as well as a thicker, more worn volume that claims to have been originally written by a resident of "Ondar Shambal"... a history of the Haslanti region in the First Age. But she does not draw out any money from her purse, not just yet. "Perhaps we should browse the library next?" she suggests, glancing at Cael over the rim of her glasses, her face pleasantly flushed. Excited.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael seems more than content to be dragged, passing comments and advice as they walk amongst the stalls and the books, keeping the hungry expression for all those books off his face as he chaperones her through the many shops on the street, looking at books himself, on a massive array of subjects. If it weren't for the serious expression on his face, she might think him just browsing for appearance's sake.
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| − | "As you desire." He says softly, leading her up the street to the library and through the doors into the building. Which is apparently just a flight of stairs for the first two floors before it opens out at the top to reveal an array of shelves that must surely span the length of the street, stacked two stories high, the whole room lit by globes like the one's outside, floating between the shelves.
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| − | "But which subject?"
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' ''Which subject... ''Her mind sufficiently fed on politics and history for the moment, Margulia looks bright eyed and content. A telltale lightning flash courses through the smoke surfacing in her eyes once more. ''Ah, which subject indeed... ''
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| − | "Perhaps a change... something... more adventurous, perhaps?" Could a woman really become drunk on books? If one could, Margulia would be a good example of it. She lets out a giggle... hardly anything like what he would have expected of her on first glance. "A bestiary of the fantastic. A treatise on the language of flowers. A holy text from a courtesan goddess..."
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| − | She talks in hushed tones now, as they wander through the library halls. Her steps seem to be taking them upward. To the second floor... past several tables of researchers bent over their tomes... Aimlessly, they wind through bookcases, Margulia chuckling with delight over the strangest topics people would dare write books about.
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| − | "Gethamane Gourmet Cooking?" She stifles a snort of laughter as she points out said tome from some... very remote corner of the library's second floor. She turns to Cael... a spark of delight in her eyes, breathing somewhat winded... One of her hairpins has come loose, somehow, sending pale golden locks spilling down one side of her face.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael points out his fair share of the more bizzare titles, though he makes a note to obtain a copy of the language of flowers for Ryshassa and mm, well, Alex might like the text about the goddess...hmmm. Ah well, something for the next day.
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| − | He's by no means ignorant of the direction their jaunt through the library seems to be taking them, and by no means perturbed by it, noting with satisfaction just how far they are from the beaten track.
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| − | So when she spies the book on book on Gethemane Gourmet Cooking, he's ready.
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| − | "I hear it can be quite spectacular, if a little heavy on the fungus." The tone on his voice pitched just so to illicit a laugh from the woman, one that he stiffles with his lips, pressing her gently back against the wall as he takes his time, kissing her very properly, before pulling back with a smile on his face.
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| − | "You were going to laugh, and we can't have that." He says, eyes sparkling with amusement, his voice warm and low as he whispers.
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' The kiss floods her with warmth from her cheeks to the tips of her toes. She does not refuse it -- not by far -- she welcomes it, feeling that beat of blood rushing to her head once again, that flutter of anticipation between her thighs...
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| − | ...the firmness of the wall against her back.
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| − | "I--" Margulia can hardly speak at first, when Cael lets her breathe. Fungus is the furthest thing from her mind right now. Her voice is a low, heated whisper when she speaks again. "I think you will have to make sure I keep quiet." Lightning sparks in those luminous azure eyes, as she adjusts her glasses straight atop her nose.
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| − | "And I do not think your hands will be enough..."
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| − | Her fingers are at her blazer now. Working at the buttons... almost fumbling at them... her other hand slithering beneath her skirt to that maddening source of lust she very much needs to be soothed.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael tilts his head as she speaks of silencing her, spending a brief moment watching her struggle with her buttons before he speaks in the same low voice, one that barely carries to her ears, never mind beyond.
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| − | "But my lips..." he kisses at the skin exposed as she unbuttons more of her blazer, "are needed elsewhere." His hands deftly undo a few more.
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| − | "So I'll need another plan. Luckily...."
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| − | He looks at her thoughtfully, and then he pulls a pair of white silk hankerchiefs from inside his coat, gently balling one and holding it open.
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| − | "Open wide."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' And Margulia does, blue eyes flickering with feverish lightening... her lips part eagerly, allowing the silk to slide within, to cover what moans and cries she might make.
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| − | The thrill of the forbidden is too sweet a call to resist. A handsome stranger in a library... and she, the most proper of proper women, spreading her legs for him...
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| − | As her questing fingers slip downward, her skirt hikes up past her thigh, revealing a lacy white garter belt holding up her near-transparent thigh-high stockings, pinned every now and then with dainty silk roses. And underneath that, the most sparing and delicate of panties, a white silk string thong, lacy like the garter, soaking wet... A muffled gasp filters through the handkerchiefs as she rakes her perfectly lacquered fingernails across the ribbon of cloth barely obscuring her slit.
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| − | Pulling it aside...
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael's eyes follow her movements as she lifts the skirt, the expression on his face showing that he is pleased, a certain je ne ce quoi that adds the merest hint of disapproval, just enough to add to the frisson of the forbidden.
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| − | "Who would have thought," he murmurs in her ear as his fingers gently press into the warm, wet cleft between her legs, "that a lady such as yourself would be like this in a public library."
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| − | His other hand slides up her leg, lifting it until she finds a shelf to rest it on, the position a little uncomfortable, and surely one that makes her feel so much more exposed.
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| − | "Since you're going to be quiet though ... no reason the moment can't last..." Said with a devilish smile that lasts a good long while, Cael taking advantage of the moment, and of Margulis for both their pleasures...
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' It is a long... and heated night. And Margulia is a woman transformed, wanton and shameless, whimpering for her lust to be fed. For him she plays the submissive -- for him she lets loose that tight self-control which she so prides herself for. Everything for this moment to last, just a little bit longer... just a little bit more...
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| − | | |
| − | ...but it ends, as all things must end, and spectacularly so. He has now seen her as she must be in her most private of moments, in the pinnacle of pleasure, carefree, unbridled, unburdened by responsibility.
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| − | But with the morning comes a frost of distance, as the reality of a new day sets in.
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| − | They are in her chambers now, part of the lovely full furnished home offered to the Haslanti delegates for their stay. It is beautiful, the decor predominantly oak carved with scroll detail, wallpaper and upholstery in shades of rose and pale green. Pale pink and yellow roses rest in ivory vases, surrounded by candles now burnt down to their wicks.
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| − | Margulia is seated at the edge of the bed, brushing out her long ash blonde locks, clad in a robe of white frosted velvet. "So what is it you want from me... really?" she asks coolly. "Or have you had enough?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael, for his part, is happy to have her submit, playing with her desires and on her lack of control, discovering just how long she can beg and plead before it ends, in unfettered warmth.
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| − | And then came the morning, and cael pulling himself up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist as he watched her brush her hair.
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| − | "I would not object to another night like the last one, though not tonight...." He says with a smile, that is mostly friendly, with just a hint of naughtyness beneath it. He puts his hands back, gripping the headboard of her bed.
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| − | "What want from you right now, though, is to listen as I tell you my surname."
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| − | He smiles, and keeps his hands there, where she can see them.
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| − | "Pattona."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' The brush pauses. Cael can see the line of her back stiffen.
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| − | "And you would tell me this now. Why? Do you think I would be so prideful as to not have you apprehended?"
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| − | Her voice is a notch colder. But otherwise, surprisingly mild. After a moment, the rhythm of the brush continues... slowly.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Quite aside from the fact you couldn't, not before I flew far beyond your reach for the moment, as damaging to my pride as that might be..." He says with a slight smile, one that might suggest he's a little pleased by this statement.
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| − | "But last night would hardly have been appropriate, requiring as it would the mixing of business and pleasure. Because it is more than an idle dropping of my name, as you might suppose." he carries on in the same silken smooth tone that had helped in talking her to the library.
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| − | "Last night you spoke about the great game of politics, the changing of the path of nations and how the subject thrilled you. The reason I told you my name is because I wish for you and your companion's help in that game. And the board is the League itself..." the smile is a little wider now.
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| − | "Why, you ask? The very same reason you threaten me with apprehension. I am a hunted man and I have no desire to be so. But I do not wish for bloodshed, nor the downfall of the League."
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| − | | |
| − | "And so, you."
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' Margulia turns, then, tucking her legs up onto the bed as she faces Cael fully once more. "Yes, I doubt I could take you on alone," she says... consideringly. "Your reputation precedes you."
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| − | ''And you have played me into your hand... your hands. And more. ''
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| − | "I am flattered that you believe I and my companions may help you. But that is interesting, after all the trouble you went through. Your 'catch' cost the League quite dearly."
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| − | She draws her knees up, resting her chin atop them as she gazes at him... blue eyes slowly swirling clouds. "How do you propose we make things right... on both sides of the scale?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Indeed it did, in pride more than anything else though the Zephyr, she is some catch in this age. And so it isn't ''just'' bruised egos." He admits something of the magnitude of the problem, if not in his words, in the tone with which he conveys them.
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| − | "As for redress, this is where you come in. The League is proud and ah, a public retraction of the price on my head will not come easily from any of the current oligarches, even were I to return the Zephyr and I would not wish to break her heart like that. That would be entirely unfair ... and contrary to promises I made. Hence my need for subtlety and for help."
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| − | "Since I took from the League though, I will give back to it. It will be a stronger league, and a more powerful one after this. And in return, those who would see me dead will no longer be in a position to do so. At least not with the authority of the League."
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| − | "For that though, I need people in positions of influence" He gestures to her. "To begin to implement my policies and to watch out for those who wish me dead."
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| − | He states the idea quite calmly, as if he were not talking of radically altering the government of one of the most powerful nations in the North.
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' "In all actuality," Margulia says, drawing herself up slightly, looking... almost prideful, herself, "for something like this you've chosen the best ally of the three of us here." She does not need to explain why. Esher is... not exactly the dependable sort, and Kardale... not so subtle.
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| − | Her eyes storm intensely, as if he has posed her yet another challenge, and she rises up to take it with relish. Another kind of bait -- she cannot help herself. It is too daring not to.
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| − | "I do have a few short conditions.." she says with a small smile, sending a crack through that veneer of frost. Lighting up her eyes much as they did at the sight of the books in the Glowing Lantern Alley. "The Quicksilver Zephyr is a legendary vessel. I would like to sail the skies, with you, at least once."
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| − | "And second... you are a traveled man, are you not? Surely it would not be much to ask to procure me a rare book or ...several, in your travels. In fact, if you impress me enough, I may very well wish to work for ''you'', instead."
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Mmm." He smiles. "I am pleased that you see things as I do." He lets go of the headboard of the bed, rolling his shoulders a little.
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| − | His eyes dance though, as she speaks of her conditions, very obviously pleased by her challenge though also by the implicit acceptance of his overture. He laughs softly. "Ah, I am quite sure I would love to have you as my guest for a few days as we sailed the skies, yes. She is quite something to fly aboard. I would offer now, but for your companions and for the fact I really should get back to the war ... but sometime ... and probably sometime before you could admit such a thing." He grins.
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| − | "It would not be too much to ask, no. A few books, however rare, is something I would be more than happy to provide for you."
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| − | "Is there anything else you would ask?"
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| − | '''Margulia Glacis: ''' "Oh, so I have not asked for enough?" Margulia raises her eyebrows, her smile broadening. "Shall I ask for endless riches and immortality, then?"
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| − | She puts the brush aside, slithering closer, on hands and knees. The robe hangs open from the front slightly, showing an enticing flash of skin.
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| − | "Perhaps you can give me immortality. Or at least a form of it. You will outlive me, Solar, but if you might honor me in your memory, in words... I wish a place there, in your regard. For as long as you breathe."
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| − | "And lastly --" She comes close enough to kiss... almost. But not quite. "Asylum. An insurance of my protection, if things go awry."
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Honour you in memory? Always." He smiles. That would not be so hard, not after the previous night and what she promised to do for him. "Words ... words may have to wait, unless you wish to test my promise on your asylum rather sooner than you might desire. But your memory will live as long as I do and should you come unstuck, I will do what I can for you."
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| − | He smiles and reaches his hand out, bringing her lips closer for a kiss.
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| − | And after it...
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| − | "I believe this is one of your leisure mornings though ... do you want to visit a library?" he grins.
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SeventhMovement|Seventh Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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