Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Printable Version

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-01-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-01-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-01-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-01-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-01-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-01-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-02-2016


Iman hadn't been one for celebrating holidays after the surge of human-related marketing campaigns, and Christmas was the biggest act of consumerism this side of the Atlantic. Not bringing to attention the music and how it put the Ifrit on edge, it was the flashing lights and constant propaganda concerning the season, as if the snow wasn't enough indication old saint Nick was headed for Dublin. Above all the tacky decor, Iman loathed walking through snow, the cold earning a miserable whine from the male as he waded through scattered drifts picked up by the winter winds. Bundled as he was, it felt like tissue paper, barely enough to rightfully neglect the chill threatening to cut off circulation to his feet. He was only in this form to travel easier, as the creature's female guise had nothing appropriate to cope with the climate changes across the city, and heels simply weren't an option when ice was a risk with each careful step.

After reaching his building, the Ifrit fished out a few pounds to slip the doorman before shuffling inside where the surge of heat filling the lobby greeted his tan features. Pleased by the change in temperature, Iman coasted toward the elevator with a few soft hums, arms still full of grocery bags containing various necessities for the week. Even in the dead of winter, Iman needed to eat, even if Sam believed Iman's diet was nothing more than organic bullshit to follow the health craze the city had been swept by in recent years. Contrary to that sentiment, Iman rather enjoyed protein shakes and granola bars but arguing the point only made Sam more adamant to point out what the Arab was missing; alcohol topping the long list. Several months into their relationship and Iman remained strong in their stance regarding liquor. A personal triumphant when suffering the teasing of their significant other.

Even the elevator was flooded with Christmas cheer, playing sappy jingles that caused the male to roll his eyes and yawn unappreciatively even without an audience to notice his disdain.

With a ding of the bell, the lift opened to the top floor, flush with hanging garlands and preemptive clips of mistletoe atop each nearby doorway. When traversing the hall, Iman noticed some tenants had removed their mistletoe accessories, with one going so far as to leave a note taped to their door stating they didn't want to find any more of the plant around their apartment. Health reasons. Specifically, health reasons regarding their cat. Impractical as mistletoe may have been, he had never once considered the ramifications of the holiday garnish on pets. Iman's Parrot was low maintenance, uninterested in decorative fluff so long as there was a healthy supply of fruits at his disposal. For some reason, Iman had always held a fondness for avian life, even if most birds were weary of his kind. Not Parrots, though. If anything, Carmine the Parrot was quite the sweetheart toward his owner.

Unlocking the door, or attempting to, Iman found it was already unlocked - meaning someone had dropped by unannounced. Blinking long lashes as the options were narrowed, the last was always the most obvious in retrospect, which brought a short sigh from his lips. "Sam?"

"Took ye long enough. Could've sworn ye said ye'd be home by now." Lounging was in Sam's nature, his broad back positioned against the arm of the sofa, long legs stretched across the expensive leather upholstery. "How'd the snow treat ye?" In one hand, he held a snifter of brandy as was customary for the Irishman, though his other was toying with the butt of a cigar. An ashtray had been placed on the coffee table, a new addition, though Iman wore an expression of shock for other reasons as the door was shut in his wake. Mouth agape, the Ifrit cradled the paper bag in one arm while the other drew large motions through the air toward the fireplace and the tree now located there.

"W-what is that?" Iman asked with a sharp hiss, eyes narrowing at stray pine needles scattered along the foot of the base. "Did you... Did you bring this up all by yourself?"

"Aye, of course I did." Puffing at the cigar with a rumble of deep laughter, Sam went on to say, "Well, don' just look at it. We got decoratin' ta do, Love."

It took every ounce of Iman's resolve not to be angry, the intricate Sanskrit inscriptions along his throat and bare knuckles alight with heat as he unceremoniously stalked into the kitchen and relinquished the grasp on the grocery bag. Testily pacing back and forth for a moment, he paused finally to state, "Fine," even though both knew it wasn't fine. Grumpy Iman didn't have a decent argument, though, so off to the bedroom he went to change from the layers of his winter attire. Discarding the heavy coat and the boots, the rest was much easier to shed, leaving Iman nude and debating just how to broach the subject of not being entirely keen about celebrating the holiday. Yet, deep down, the creature still had hopes of pleasing their counterpart regardless their religious beliefs.

When Iman returned, she was wearing a tight pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweater, with one hand holding her ponytail of raven hair back as the other wrapped a hairtie around the collective. "So-" she said, expression deadpan, "you brought me a tree. Thank you." A pause. "But why?"

"Love, it's Christmas eve. Ye can't very well expect me to simply ignore the fact." Sam rose from his seated position to make long strides toward the woman, his cigar snuffed in the ashtray prior to his transition between rooms. "It was either come here an' spread some holiday cheer or make a fleeting appearance at the office party. Ye know I'd rather just be with ye." Flashing a brilliant display of pearly whites as he hugged the smaller female to his front, he added, "An' ye need to learn how to decorate a tree."

"Why?" Iman asked, sulking though eager for the embrace of the hulking Leprechaun. "What's your angle?"

Feigning a look of shock, Sam pulled away to press his palm to the front of his suit, presumably above his heart. "As if I'd have an angle. Ye wound me, Love." Chuckling off the charade, he led her by the hand to a box set to the side that was full of Chrismas related adornments, including but not limited to ornaments and a massive golden star with a cupped spherical base. "Now, here's the tricky part." Swallowing the last of his brandy, the empty glass was placed on the coffee table so one of his hand was free to gesture over the pine tree in question. "So, we're gonna start with the lights as those're the most important part." Releasing Iman for the time being, the redhead gathered a string of lights in hand to demonstrate how they were meant to be wrapped around the body of the pine.

Not needing to encourage the act, Iman watched with one eyebrow quirked, and when she was turned to expectantly by her employer, she sighed softly and followed his instruction. "Like this?" She asked when her lights were up, though how he rearranged them after a moment was enough to prove Iman wasn't as familiar with the custom. For a few moments, the two took turns stringing up the additions until the tree was a mess of dimmed bulbs, though Sam took care of plugging in the collection so the colors danced through the needles like captured stars in a sky of earthy green. Even grumpy Iman could appreciate the effort by the finished product, and a small smile crossed her lips as she admitted, "It looks good now."

"Oh, it's gonna get better, Darlin'." Next came a prepackaged bag of popcorn and thread still spooled. Iman must have looked confused before with a laugh, Sam showed what he intended to do with the fluffy kernels. Lacing several onto the length of thread in his hands, he passed it to the woman so she could continue his work, grabbing more to continue the tradition as he had countless times over. Unlike Iman, Sam loved Christmas. Also unlike Iman, Sam had every reason to be excited for his evening, as this was his chance to really surprise the Ifrit. If nothing else, he took pleasure in how she slowly came to terms with their activities, and if he was reading her signals correctly, she enjoyed the impromptu holiday session.

Lastly was the tinsel and ornaments, oddly shaped trinkets and curiously designed baubles that caused Iman to peer over them closely to scrutinize further. "They look rather old," She noted between hanging the objects on outstretched branches, unable to shake the satisfaction she took when positioning them just right without any aid from her partner. "And what is this, uh, stuff that keeps falling onto my carpet?"

"That'd be tinsel." Sam boasted proudly, more than willing to answer any and all Christmas related inquiries.

"Hm. I don't know if I like this, ah, tonsels stuff."

Narrowing his gaze slightly, Sam peered down to Iman's features before snickering. "Say it again?"

"Why? What, did I pronounce it wrong?" Flustered, Iman blinked back her confusion to try once more with the word. "Tinselt?" Sounding it out in her head, she whispered more to herself than to Sam, "Or teasles..?"

Unable to contain his laughter, the towering fellow turned away from the decorating to unleash his laughter, all while Iman played over the word several times incorrectly before eventually giving up altogether. "Whatever." She breathed with an indignant sniff, waving off the incident without much interest in asking further. "I just don't like it, alright?"

"Fine, fine. Next year, we'll skip the tinsel," he teased playfully before shifting once more to face their almost finished tree. "Now, though, we add the last bit. Best part, probably. Ye get to do the honors."

"Which is?" Skeptical, Iman peeked into what was left in the box, met only with the golden star she had noticed when their task started. "The star?"

"Aye, that'd be it, lass. Now, grab it and I'll help ye put it on top."

With a small nod, Iman Eko placed her first star atop their Christmas tree while Sam O'dwyer held her petite waist in his encompassing grasp. The act even earned a small laugh from the Ifrit, her bare feet dangling briefly before she was placed back onto the mostly immaculate carpeting covering her living room. Suddenly, struck with the sprit of the season, Iman proclaimed with a nod, "We did excellent work."

"Well, I'd hope so. I wanted the setting to be perfect for yer present."

Lashes aflutter, the woman questioned, "Present?"

Raising a hand to silence any further curiosity for the time being, Sam peeled off from their position to wander toward the back bathroom, and upon his return, he held a tiny bundle of orange and white fur with squished features and large eyes that blinked lazily as though the animal had been roused from a deep sleep. Holding out the small creature, Sam beamed his pride expectantly toward the woman. "Merry Christmas, Iman."

Stunned by the discovery, Iman could only accept the kitten into her sleeved hands, and instinctively, hugged the gift to her sweater covered breasts. Her mind was a fog of questions, and beyond that, a blank, but she managed to say softly while small tears dotted her dark lashes.

"Merry Christmas, Sam."

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-05-2016

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 01-04-2017



They met on a Sunday, with a light rain shower spattering the gray streets, and the sun a distant memory. Kayen wore an Armani suit. The stranger wore a nicer Armani suit, and for some reason, this upset the Fae. It only made sense to follow the other fellow through the foot traffic of the cool winter evening, Kayen ignoring the impending downpour as if it weren't expected. Rather, it didn't particularly bother him. By the time the pair arrived at their destination (which was the stranger's destination foremost), all the street lamps had been switched on, accompanied by strings of lights remaining from New Year's festivities. The pub door swung open to swallow the stranger, though as he vanished, it was with Kayen damn near on his heels, lured by a foreign scent of blood and expensive cologne.

It was dim, the music mellow and forgettable, with various patrons seated at tables and at the rustic bar counter. Not the kind of place Kayen felt comfortable visiting, but when compelled, there was no arguing with the urge seeded deep in his stomach. That strange clawing, like the agitated scraping of a caged beast looking for an escape; he swallowed while coasting through the collective of bodies. The stranger was at ease, a smile natural on handsome features, his presence heavy in the smokey room so eyes sought his form where he stood just beyond the reach of the bar. It was then, in that basking presence, that Kayen considered what he was doing. Who, in his curiosity, he tailed through the city for the better part of an hour with no ulterior motive than to inquire about tailor services.

After all, he was jealous of his suit.

It was unlike the Elder Fae to stalk his prey, but with newfound freedom, there had been several noteworthy changes to the raven haired patriarch. For one, his trysts with Ki had slowly decreased over the past several months. At this point, he summoned her out of a deranged sense of obligation to his creation, and she would come because it was all she knew. Without his love, where else was she to turn? Still, with every passing day, Kayen knew his inclinations were not what they used to be. From a healthy lust for women of the Fae variety, he had mingled more with other beings in the past year than he might once have done, and now in the dim atmosphere of the pub, Kayen made honest consideration of his wardrobe rival. The thought earned a snicker low in his throat before he mustered the energy to take a place squarely between the stranger and the next patron.

"Your suit," he began nonchalantly with his icy blue orbs dancing over the shelves of liquor lining the shelves behind the counter, "is custom made, isn't it?"

The stranger, with a glass in hand, swirled his wrist to clink the ice merrily against the walls of the vessel. "Of course."

"Which means you have Armani connections." Kayen didn't ask this time, instead choosing to wrack his brain over what his next line of questioning would be. "How much did it run you?"

"About as much as you might think." The stranger was still at ease when he swiveled to position his hip against the counter, his weight leaning heavily against the wood while equally blue oculars dragged the length of the Fae's straight postured stance, steadily moving upward from Kayen's immaculate loafers to his slightly less immaculate chin. They remained there as a silence washed over the duo, near palpable as if the air threatened to suffocate their surroundings if either so much as flinched. It was in a motion that caught the Fae off guard that the stranger brought his free hand up to Kayen's scruffy jawline with a few judgemental tuts under his breath. Cupping the portrait between firm digits, the stranger wrenched Kayen's face side to side without waiting to see how the Fae might respond, though in his surprise, Kayen didn't choose to put up a struggle.

"I saw you back in Brighton, buddy. You know, when you were hawking me from half a block away." Chuckling, the stranger had yet to release Kayen from his hold, still examining his appearance with a scrutiny that sent chills through the obscenely tall Fae. In all his years, no man had been so touchy with him, and if they had, he may not have have been so receptive as he was with his current muse. "You're in need of a shave." A shave? Kayen's tricolored hues widened only to narrow suspiciously as he was released, his partner in conversation looking elsewhere while sipping his scotch.

"Is that how you greet stalkers? Or are you used to being stalked?" Kayen, without an ounce of an issue to argue regarding the truth behind his following habits, preferred to turn their chat back to suits. "I just wanted to know who your tailor is. Armani employed or someone good enough to make a knock-off. You have it all wrong, champ-" Scoffing to emphasize his statement, Kayen not only failed to convince the stranger, but also to convince himself with his excuse.

"Yeah? My suit? You can have it. Come back to my apartment, I'll pass it off to you, and we can part ways." Chuckling, the stranger found this infinitely more amusing than Kayen as he went on with, "because if it's honestly just the suit, fuck it, right? Take the suit. Hell, you want my tie as well? How about my shoes? My boxers?" Dropping his voice several octaves, the stranger leaned in with a knowing look donning his chiseled features to ask quietly, "How about my cock? You want that, too?"

Now, Kayen wasn't the sort of man to pass incredulous judgment on someone he just met, but this fellow was beyond his range of manipulation and nothing said could be taken seriously. He couldn't read what might have been the cause for the sudden offer, but from what he knew of mortal men, they were rather forthcoming with their sexual prowess. It almost struck a cord with the Elder Fae, his face wearing a passive smile before his tongue ran quickly across his lips. "Careful what you offer, or you might end up regretting it." If this was a game of chicken, Kayen wasn't about to back down to some asshole in a nice suit. Honestly, he had fucked some unsettling beasts during his stay in the Dreaming.

A stranger in Armani wasn't a deal breaker.

Cackling, the stranger covered his face with his palm to stifle his laughter, drawing minor glances from the other patrons in their midst. "Oh, fuck! Listen to you, practically begging for it! Shit, let's go, bud-" Releasing his lips in favor of a sharp inhale of air, a fist full of dollars were distributed to the countertop before Kayen's forearm was grasped tightly by the other male. "C'mon, you want the suit, so let's get out of here and talk in private." Private. For whatever reason, Kayen felt a rush of excitement instead of cautioning as he was led in tandem with the stranger, their well-dressed duo exiting the pub without so much as a second look toward the curious onlookers.

The stranger, Zeno Ralin as Kayen was informed, lived in an apartment in the business district of Brighton. The building might have passed for a tower if not for the modern conveniences adorning the chrome shaded plating. Architecture was a passing fancy for the Fae, a given with how much time he spent trapped with only his crafting skills permitted, but he was doing his best to ignore urges to question the structure. His silence seemed preferable to Zeno, who never stopped talking, explaining various business ventures he was overseeing in the current quarter as well as his business dealings with an overseas buyer concerning NASDAQ forerunners. To an old school dictator such as Kayen, he might as well have been rambling about geology or astronomy or some other subject the Vereaux patriarch had zero investment in. It was Zeno he was scrutinizing with private peeks out of the corner of his eye, wondering just when their unplanned rendezvous would turn south.

There were still those in his clan who didn't appreciate the somewhat hostile takeover of the clan, and Kayen wasn't fool enough to assume there wouldn't be attempts made against his life. The spark of rebellion was a finicky bitch that knew no end once started, but as Ki assured him during their meetings, she was keeping a careful watch on any suspicious activity that might pose a serious threat. That and Kayen's watcher, Ozmond, who had yet to fail his charge since their hasty first meeting. Ozmond admitted he hated Kayen, but with that out of the way, he would do his utmost best to ensure no harm come to the reigning patriarch. If nothing else, there was a business relationship between the anointed men, and they left it as simple as that.

Extravagant was a polite way of saying that Zeno's sense of decorating was an unnerving waste of funds, but as Zeno had assured Kayen several times during their stroll, he could afford to be extravagant with his expenses. It wasn't that the Fae didn't appreciate the hallway feeding into the massive apartment, but to be surrounded by original DaVinci, Monet and Goya pieces wasn't what he had expected to be greeted with. His loft was sparsely furnished with minimum signs of inhabitation and little to no interior decorating. He kept it that way so there was never a sense of attachment, and beyond that, because he infrequently stayed by himself. Either he was at The Sleeping Hunter or he was elsewhere with his children, looming over their personal affairs while relearning what the fleshlands was meant to be used far. In his freed state, it was difficult to recall just whether his motives were meant to placed. If he wasn't terrorizing Lucky and her brood, what was he meant to be doing?

This question was answered by the company of Zeno to some degree; an evening of respite from the mundane.

Fists stuffed into his pockets, he waited in the living room of couches, so many that he doubted there had been enough asses in the high rise to fill all of them at once. The concept of a party was one Kayen rarely lingered on, but with the spread of Zeno's furniture choices, he wondered if that was how the other male spent his free weekends. It was a Sunday, then, which meant the work week would be upon them in a matter of hours. Unpocketing one of his hands, Kayen checked his watch absently before directing his illuminated orbs to where Zeno waited in an adjoining doorway. "Are you waiting for an invitation to follow? Really? After an hour of skulking behind me, now you want to be formal?"

"Aren't you going to offer me a drink?" Kayen asked, a bit startled by how forward Zeno was, even after the very long chat they had had on the way over.

"To fuck you?" There he was, back to laughing it up in response to Kayen's inquiry, but the Fae didn't take offense to it. If anything, he resisted the urge to shrug broad shoulders in an unperturbed fashion. "Well, I thought I was being a gentleman not just dragging you into a dirty alley because if you were anyone else, that's exactly what I would have done." Zeno slicked back his dark hair before turning the attention of his fingers to his cuff links. "Look, you don't get a welcome mat for being fucked, Mr. Royalty. What you get is five seconds to trot your happy ass into my bedroom."

"And what if I say no?" Amused, Kayen smirked and raised one eyebrow in question. "Then what?"

"Four."

"Seriously? A countdown? Do I look like a child to you?"

"Three."

It was in this moment that Kayen realized he was about to be fucked by a man he barely knew. Actually, there was no barely about it. He didn't know Zeno. Yet, even in this strange several seconds of clarity, the Fae made several steps forward to where Zeno kept the door open with his rear, his smirk remaining plastered over his scruff accentuated lips. "This your usual spiel?"

"Two."

"You're lucky I haven't got anything going on tonight, champ." With a deep sigh, Kayen sidled past Zeno with another misleading shrug, only to have his ass groped rather roughly by the shorter male. Without flinching, his tongue ran over the front of his incisors while his lips remained closed, ushering forth no more than a minute exhale. He was taking his sweet time moving to the bed area, but Zeno wasted no more than a bat of his lashes in closing the door with a gentle click. "Real lucky."

"You might have liked what I had in store for you if I reached one." Skirting the wall as he slipped off his jacket, the article was hung neatly on a hook before the cufflinks from earlier were slipped into the breast pocket. "Depends on what you're into, really. Sometimes, I catch some real freaks when I'm scoping the city. You'd be surprised. Hell, remind me later, and I'll tell you about this one bitch I fucked downtown." With a characteristic laugh, Zeno raised a hand to gesture for Kayen to turn around. "Hurry up and get undressed."

"Sounds like you're used to being the boss." Was this how it worked? Kayen had zero experience with men, and while he had always taken a dominant role in his own sexual escapades, the idea of doing so with another man was starting to seem impossible. At least, impossible with the overly charismatic enigma known as Zeno Ralin. Smoothly, he undid the buttons of his dress shirt to slide out of both shirt and jacket at once, carelessly setting them in a pile at the foot of the bed. Where Zeno may have felt compelled to keep his apartment clean, Kayen felt no such need, knowing full well he would rather have the clothing close by for a speedy exit. "What if I hadn't been interested in being fucked?"

"I'd have fucked you anyway, your majesty," Zeno teased, and Kayen secretly wished he hadn't explained that part to the other fellow since it had become an easy jab to his stature. "And while you might have struggled initially, let's face it. You want to be fucked-"

"Quit acting like you're the only person in this goddamn city with holes, alright?" With a sneer, Kayen turned around and pointed accusingly to the nude male opposite him. Apparently, Zeno has been stripping through his accusations, leaving his countenance available for Kayen's eager hues to study in detail. Unsurprisingly, the Fae continued stripping as well, down to his boxers as he noted aloud, "My guess is you're the one aching to fuck me. Admit it, you wanna fuck Fae royalty- you aren't fooling anyone!"

As if the exemplify the statement, Zeno's hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and with a small lift, he wagged his engorged member in Kayen's direction. "Sure. I admit it. I wanna fuck Fae royalty. Now, get on your royal knees, bitch."

Admittedly, Kayen's cock twitched eagerly at the order. Had he ever been bossed around before? Not outside of instances attempted by those in his clan, and certainly not sexually, save for the times his victims had fought his advances. A chorus of 'no' and 'stop' hardly counted in Kayen's eyes. Hitching the elastic of his boxers, the Fae shrugged off the last article of his clothing to add to the messy pile and then approached Zeno with an almost questioning narrowing of his eerily lit eyes. Zeno didn't budge from his spot by the row of hooks, not even when Kayen towered over him just long enough to reply casually, "Bitch? That's new."

Unceremoniously, Kayen sunk to his knees, one large hand hooking around Zeno's waistline to pull him closer. The other shifted to take over stroking the other man's cock, his grasp firm while his lips hovered close enough to part against the head of Zeno's erection. It wasn't because it was a man that Kayen hesitated, but because he had never been in this sort of situation before. All those precious Fae bodies beneath his, delicate and female, their limbs thin and their touch light and airy. It was like fucking a pillow if the pillow screamed and thrashed weakly beneath him. This didn't seem quite so delicate in comparison, but instead a body of tendon and muscle, flesh spread taut over the outline of captured ligature. It brought a tint to Kayen's cheeks as the heat rose to his face, and slowly, his mouth opened so his tongue could explore bulbous crown of Zeno's member.

Hands moved to the back of his head as Zeno hissed quietly, "Wider, bitch- You're taking it all."

Just like that, Kayen gagged as the back of his throat was met with the tip, thrusting hips silencing any complaints the Fae might have wished to make due to the treatment. In retrospect, Kayen hadn't thought about just what sort of nonsense he was getting himself into, but after committing in such an intimate way, he didn't know if backing out was an actual option. Besides, the throbbing between his legs was indication enough he enjoyed the harsh jabs even while he choked with the motions of his partner's hips. Sealing his lips around the other male's girth, he sucked roughly from base to end, his tongue arching wildly along the salted skin he cleaned with each dutiful undulation of cheeks and throat compressing tightly around Zeno.

Of course, Zeno was pleased enough to utter short reassurances of enjoyment between his groans of longing. "Fucking Fae sluts... Good boy..."

This went on long enough for the stickiness of precum to meet Kayen exploring tongue, but Zeno paused him by yanking back his head with a handful of his ebony hair. "W-what?" The Fae managed to ask, his breathlessness exhibited with the short pants escaping his slack lips.

"Get on the bed."

Darting his eyes around, the Vereaux rose to his full height and strode to the mattress, but before he could settle himself, Zeno had him face down in undoubtedly expensive linens. "Hey!" Kayen proclaimed angrily, struggling slightly against the hold he was kept in, though again he found his throbbing sex as a sure sign of compliance to the ordeal. Easing with the release of a short murmur of breath, Zeno had arranged him so his ass was in the air and his thighs were spread widely, and Kayen assumed this meant the obvious. So, bracing himself, he waited tensely until suddenly a wet, warm sensation against his puckered hole sent a shiver up his spine. It continued, moistening the area as Zeno shamelessly licked the orifice until coaxing it open. Probing Kayen's tight hole, the pink muscle slickly dove inward to slather the Fae's insides in a thick lubrication of saliva, a trail of which lingered even when Zeno pulled back with a purr of affection.

"Have to loosen you up, you know. Better for you this way." Zeno rose onto his knees and spread Kayen's cheeks to glance down and admire his handiwork. "Look at you, breathing heavy into the pillows... Don't worry. I'll give you what you really want." Unabashed bu his actions, the shorter of the pair aligned his hips so the crown of his cock poked teasingly against the still spasming set of muscles to Kayen's hole, and ever so gently, the first thrust was made. The Fae snapped his eyes shut in retaliation, his teeth gritting to block the attempts his throat made at releasing pained sounds if only to save face in front of Zeno. "Don't worry, Princess, you can scream if you want to."

Princess. Kayen gasped sharply as Zeno pushed forward in a rush of his hips, flesh slapping flesh with enough force to make the Fae's legs quake. At some point, he had grabbed hold of the sheets, ripping at them with his fingers in response to the roughness. Not to be confused with unpleasantness, Kayen realized how vulnerable he had been made, penetrated by a practical stranger while the pair were in Zeno's apartment. Even with the other male submerged to his base in his tight confines, his thoughts couldn't help straying to why this happened. How did he end up taking Zeno's cock in his ass? As if reading his thoughts, Zeno pulled away to issue another thrust, stating in time with his pace, "Destiny. Fate. This. Is. Preordained." Kayen didn't know if he believed his partner, but he wasn't in a position to argue, and both knew that.

Zeno had wrapped his arm around his figure to splay his fingers against Kayen's shaft, letting them clumsily explore the thickness of the larger man's manhood before rubbing his thumb against the swollen pulse of Kayen's precum drenched tip. "How exciting... Do you know how much you enjoy getting fucked?" Fingers sticky with fluids, they were brought to Kayen's lips to be smeared hastily before retreating back to the Fae's cock. "Taste that and tell me this wasn't meant to be. Go ahead, try-" But he didn't wait for the answer, still keeping his steady pace as he drove every inch into the smothering series of ringed muscles hugging his girth. Kayen licked his lips out of habit, panting, well aware of Zeno's stroking when it started as a slow fumbling between his prone thighs. As the pace increased, so too did the speed of the strokes, earning breathy moans from the Fae in time with the adorations.

With his palm covered in precum, Zeno tightened his grip to jerk Kayen off, feeling his resolve melt with each twitch of the veiny circumference in his hand. He worked faster, rougher, to cause the bottom of the pair to cry out in a mixture of pain and elation of both danced dangerously close to their climaxes. In the end, Kayen came first, overwhelmed by the digits hugging his length as well as Zeno's cock stuffing his virgin asshole with the vigorous pounding of wanton need. Every molecule of his being was confused when he came, the load of hot seed lacing the sheets with a pearlescent drizzle. His back tightened in response, his ass strangling Zeno's engorged sex until he too was met with a loss of control, his rocking hips spasming as a hot load filled his Fae counterpart through his assault.

What became of the two was a messy pile of tangled limbs in the middle of the bed, Zeno's still rigid cock buried deep in the captive Fae while he commented mockingly, "Yeah, you fucking loved it, you slut."

"Eh..." Kayen whispered under his breath, his lids heavy and his body aching in places it had never ached before, "It was alright."

"Keep it up, and you're gonna end up hurting by the time I'm done with you."

Really, Kayen didn't think that sounded all that bad.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 01-06-2017


Heels clicked smartly against the polished linoleum flooring, steps passing without pause through long empty halls, treading various patchwork carpeting en route as the openness of the building was accentuated by the lack of clientele. There was a silence here that didn't sit properly with Fae, the sort of dead zone one might associate with abandoned buildings or dark thickets skirting untamed wilderness. She considered turning around, heading back the way she had just come, and never stepping foot in the reaches of the agency Adon was currently contracted to, but she wasn't cowardly enough to make haste when the inkling arose. Instead, Ki slowed her pace as the last door between herself and her brother was sighted, a posh designer engraving in the wood acting as the only actual affirmation this was indeed their destined meeting place.

Before she was given a chance to pass through the seal entrance, the door swung open to reveal her brother in all his disheveled glory, a crass smile stapled to his full lips. "Oh, speak of the devil..." Reaching long arms through the doorway, Adon pulled Ki forward by her shoulders, his commentary briefly paused as he glanced away from his sister to the host of individuals lounging in the background. "I was just telling the new models about our family. You know, because there's so much to say." Ever casual with his slights, Adon released his grip when she was clear of the entry, allowing him to seal their private party before any fleeting attention might be garnered. "Actually, come to think of it, you've never stopped by before this afternoon. Must be a real doozy of an issue if it dragged you away from the Hunter."

Instinctively, Ki brushed her blouse to rid the material of creases caused by the other Fae's touch, an expected response given her generally sterile attitude toward affectionate gestures. "Yes, quite the doozy..." Trailing off, Ki flicked her wrist at the women spread about the room as if to banish their existence from her sight. "Could you do something about your entourage for the time being? This isn't a topic I wish to discuss with an audience." Of course, the topic was one she would rather never speak about, but such options were entirely implausible due to the current state of Vereaux affairs. Much had changed in the recent months since their father's return from the Dreaming, and with those changes, a slew of awkward mishaps Ki had been charged with taking care of.

Where fires sprouted, Ki came running, armed with the fire extinguisher of pretty lies and overtaxed Glamour.

"What? My loves? All of them?" With a flutter of his dark lashes, the male peeked over his shoulder at the curious humans in their company, feigning exaggerated feelings of heartbreak. "But Ki, can't I keep my favorites at least?"

"And which would that be?"

"Why, all of them, obviously." Turning his portrait sidelong for Ki to analyze, he added playfully, "Besides, this lot is zonked out on Xanax right now, so they barely register anything said or done to them."

"Truely astonishing," Ki seethed bitterly, lids narrowing over her sibling as if she were debating his viability regarding her current predicament. Had she been given more options than what was readily available in Adon, she may not have come to his neck of Valesport seeking assistance, but her bridges elsewhere had long since burned in the fires of Kayen's release. A tragedy considering her tireless work to get on the good side of the other clans, but necessary in the long con. All of this, from Adon's rise to stardom in the fashion world to her attendance at the tea house, was necessary. Everyone was given a lot in life, a position they need fill to work in favor of the greater good, and by acknowledging this, Ki signed her own death warrant.

There was no turning back now.

"Fine." Adjusting the strap of her purse with a small inhale, the raven locked Fae removed her cell phone from the bag and swiped the screen several times. "Do you know what our father is doing right now?"

"See, I know this is a trick question," Adon began thoughtfully as he busied himself with pouring two glasses of champagne, one of which was handed to his company quickly before the other found a home in his gentle hold. "You mean who is he doing, correct?"

Shifting her weight from one patent leather pump to the other, Ki nodded and said tersely. "Yes." The hand tending to the offered flute of champagne raised so she could sip the beverage, but to what end, she wasn't entirely certain. Meanwhile, the other hand extended the series of images she held as evidence to Kayen's escapades, the captured history of their father beaming a wicked grin while pounding the backside of a prone female victim completely visible at the angle she offered vision of.

Taking the phone, Adon flitted nonchalantly as further images were scrolled through, the collection a rather broad tapestry of Kayen and women of all variety in various states of undress, though each one featured the devilish sire of the lineage smiling in one fashion or another. Finally, reaching the end of the folder of images, Adon cleared his throat and handed back the phone before asking, "So?"

"So? What do you mean so?"

"Well, I mean so what? How did you get these anyway? Are you snooping on dad?" Smirking, Adon wagged his finger at Ki like he had caught her stealing cookies from the cookie jar. "You naughty girl, you just can't let him go, can you?"

"He sent them to me!" Snarling, the abruptness of Ki's change in demeanor was enough to rouse a sleeping model but only long enough for the girl to reposition herself amid the bodies of her coworkers. "He has been texting me these- these pictures!" Jerking back, Ki stuffed her phone back into her purse before continuing on with, "He has been everywhere in this city, making a mockery of the family name! Anything he can get his hands on, he takes!"

"And this bothers you why?" Chuckling, Adon didn't bother to hide the satisfaction painting his visage as he slipped closer to where Ki was standing, going so far as to give her a small push so she was pressed with her back to the door. "Honestly, it's like you didn't know who you were freeing before you did it. What, Ki? Did he promise to be on his best behavior once he was free? Did he promise he only has eyes for you?"

"Stop it." She breathed, the weight of her gaze lowering to the space between them that even now threatened to be encroached upon by Adon's closeness. "You have no idea the risks I took-"

"Like fucking me? Like lying to me about just what Kayen intended to do? Gods, you are so fucking despicable, I would be in my right mind to banish every last bit of your existence from my life." Even with such cruel words shared between them, Adon's hand slipped through the ebony of his sister's hair in a soothing gesture. "You did what you needed to do for him, didn't you? Now, why don't you give up the ghost, Ki? Just stop letting him use you."

"Why do you care?" Turning to expel a deep sigh, the Fae asked further, "Why did you pretend to care about what happens to father if you couldn't give a damn less?"

"Maybe I want to use you," Adon said as his face moved to bury itself in the nape of her neck, his lips tender against her fluttering pulse, "Because I deserve recognition. Didn't I help? Where are the thanks I deserve?"

"You don't understand the gravity of the situation, Adon-" But before she could finish her thought, teeth bore down in the delicate flesh of her neck, sinking against the elasticity of skin until they punctured and drew a sharp gasp from the woman. "Adon, stop!"

Maniacal laughter erupted from the snow topped male as he pushed away from his sister, a crimson coat visible across the face of his incisors. "Stop what? If he did it, would you be so fucking angry? Honestly, Ki, what do you want? I can offer you anything he can, and possibly more if you're looking for things to pass the time with." Giving the vaguest of gestures, he said, "Try not to spill that on the carpet. I'm not worried about a stain, but for the sake of not wasting good champagne, it's best you be more mindful."

"What on earth has gotten into you?" Fingers traced the wound to her neck, shaking with a mixture of confusion and anticipation now coursing through her system. "This is our father I'm talking about!"

"I guess I'm just tired of being part of the Kayen clean up crew. Did you ever stop to think that I might have a life already? Look around, Ki, and tell me you haven't noticed? I am SOMEONE without the Vereaux name! I made a name for myself!" It was Adon's turn to be angry, his teeth gritting in time with his irritated vocals rising to consume the sleepy dressing room. "You threw me into the middle of this stupid fucking lineage bullshit by using your cunt to lure me in! I only agreed because you fucked me, and I needed that, okay?! I needed someone like you so I could see what the fuss was about- but the part that gets me, right? The part that gets me is how even now, after all this stupid shit has happened, you could give a shit less about whether or not you're ruining my life!"

Ki's champagne flute crashed to the floor, foamy liquor soaking into the fabric of the carpeting.

A moment would pass. Another. Several came and went in the quiet of the room, waking models blinking their confused hues in the direction of the siblings, their blank expressions a sure sign of their continued drug induced stupors. It took the movement of one of these women to snap Ki's attention away from Adon, her motility between the door and the couch this particular girl occupied happening in the blink of an eye. Without waiting to see Adon's reaction, the girl was snatched by her hair and twisted so the room thundered with a sickly snap before she was thrown to the ground with a heavy thud. Now unmoving, lifeless eyes stared up at the mirrored ceiling, her lips forming a silent scream, though the other models were loud enough in their frightened wailing that another voice wasn't needed.

One by one, Ki rampaged through the seven women, her murderous intentions undeterred by any amount of struggle she was met with. They died screaming and horrified, left crumpled piles on the expensive carpeting as whole vessel drained of their lives or dismembered parts Ki felt exceptionally scornful toward. It was all the same in the end; bloody. Ki could feel flesh beneath her nails as her wide eyes finally returned to the shocked portrait of Adon who had not moved an inch in the several moments of her tantrum, though even if he had, she doubted he was brash enough to throw himself in front of her tirade. He was a model as well, after all, and while she may not have been capable of outright killing her sibling, she could destroy that well sought after face of his just as easily as she had broken every one of his current playthings.

"This is what happens, Adon," Ki began softly, the violence of her explosive temper still settled on the surface of her aura as a malignant swirl of ghastly blues and purples. "Never think for even a second that your make-believe human life is more important than the matters of the clan... Humans die. Easily, as you can see. In hundreds of years, all these faces you see on the streets will be gone, replaced by replicas and reiterations and vague resemblances, but the Vereaux? That is constant. Forever, Adon. You don't get to walk away. Never. I won't let you."

Hands sticky and shaky, they reached to pry open the door, hitting a motionless corpse in the process. Kicking back the head and arm impeding her exit, she added coldly, "You'll find a new favorite."

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 01-14-2017



He loved her.

Long ago... So long, most of his clan who lived in those times had long since been lost to the constant political turmoil and backstabbing of their unhealthy and opinion stifling hierarchy. If it wasn't internal conflicts that claimed their lives, it was the concept of love. Perhaps that was what made him so sentimental toward the past, and inevitably, so bitter. A stain of resentment to carry through the ages, forged during events of great duress. Gods, he was so tired of pretending to be the villain in this story. He wasn't. No, he hadn't killed her. If anyone was to blame, it was Lucky Vereaux with her errant commands and her miserable sense of timing.

And why had Lucky acted so recklessly?

Of course. Love.

A hand gently jostled his shoulder, slender digits careful where they rested so not to be burdening to the male. "Is something wrong, Kayen?"

Tugging at the corner of his lips, a deceptive smirk fell into place. "No, not at all." What a liar he had become, the emptiness remaining obvious in the depths of his cobalt hues, their focal point trailing from the prismatic youth in his peripherals to the window. His apartment overlooked much of Valesport, worth a small fortune but entirely unappreciated by the Fae inhabiting it. "Just remembered something."

"What?" Vian's lashes batted mildly in an idle manner, her overall expression as placid as the surface of a tranquil body of water. Kayen found himself envying the fledgling, her naivety endearing to the much older male if only because she was clueless to the sorrow the promise of eternity was notorious for causing.

"Just something to do with my sister." Easing his weight from one leg to the other, Kayen straightened his posture before adding matter-of-factly, "I'm not sure why I thought of her just now, to be honest."

"I didn't know you had a sister," his daughter admitted before coming to stand in front of the flat sheet windows, her attention taking in the scenery just as Kayen's had. "Is she...?"

"Yes, for some time now." Clearing his throat from behind a closed fist, the Fae patriarch considered his wording very carefully before continuing with, "Her name was Vega. I had a brother as well just like you do. His name was Ronan." Pausing to instinctively inhale as means of easing his nerves, Kayen understood how rarely he spoke of their extended family. Furthermore, how difficult it was to do so. "I believe you would have liked Vega, given the chance to know her. She was a rather vibrant soul with a very inquisitive nature. Her favorite thing to do was solve problems, even if they were not her problems to worry over."

Squirming slightly, Vian asked hesitantly as she pocketed her hands in the front panels of her hoodie, "What happened to them?"

"To my siblings?" Unexpectedly, Kayen barked a throaty chuckle before planting one of his palms flat against the window for balance purposes. "Oh, how do I even begin to explain?" With the residual laughs trailing his initial outburst, he shook his head and sighed in a wistful manner. "Well, alright. Ronan was the eldest brother, but he was careless. He pledged himself to a woman without a heart, and when the time came for him to realize the extent of her flaws, it was too late. Ronan and his wife were killed during the Clash of the Six while outside the capital of Arcadia, leaving their children to continue their lineage."

"Are those...?"

Kayen nodded at the question, needing no further inquiry from Vian. "The very same. In the end, Lucky took up the reins despite her lack of experience. Her methods of ruling the Vereaux and the council at large are directly related to why Vega was killed."

Shock spread over Vian's portrait, the color pinched from her high cheekbones at the discovery. "She killed Vega?"

"Hm. That's a difficult question to answer... If I were to buy you a gun, and you shot someone with it, do I share in your guilt?" Kayen shrugged, his digits smudging absently where they slipped along the pane separating him from the city below.

"I don't know..." Vian admitted before swallowing a small shudder.

"Well, now you have your answer. I don't know." Again, a smirk was present over his chiseled visage as an attempt to belie his grief. Even now, after all these years, his heart ached far from the reaches of current circumstance. "One of Ronan's children murdered her. If I was told the correct information, it was Cecil Vereaux who slew her in her bed some months before Lucky defeated him in Auria." Under his breath, he ushered free the ghost of a scoff. "A coward deserves worse than any punishment Lucky was capable of administering, but I'm afraid there's no second chance at murder."

"I'm sorry," Vian said softly, unable to bring her eyes to her father's position at her left. He knew she meant the words, her emotions a gut-wrenching pull in his stomach that threatened to undo the efforts he tirelessly reinforced through numerous heinous acts. He would continue to hide behind his reputation, even then, but for the short time his daughter's sympathy was thick in the atmosphere of his apartment, he was made aware of his last shreds of vulnerability. Those exposed nerves were dangerous, he knew, but this was the only instance he could recall acknowledging them in recent years.

"It was a very long time ago." More deceit followed in the way he straightened himself to dismissively wave a hand, apparently done with the topic. "All parties thought guilty have received their comeuppance." Shifting to face the sidelong woman, Kayen reached out to brush back a collection of Vian's periwinkle locks behind the tip of her ear, giving him a better view of her face. It wasn't as polished as Ki's face was, the angles sharp and symmetrical, but ultimately not meant to appear as a strong resemblance to Vega. Neither would know what thoughts had passed through Kayen's mind when creating his daughters, but their differences directly related to their purposes in his life. Ki was his past embodied, a beautiful predator with the clan's best interest in mind. Vian was a reminder that the past was long buried, and there was a potential future left for the aged male.

It was difficult to accept, this idea of moving on. Nigh impossible when he saw Ki, as her appearance was a near perfect copy of his deceased love. Only when Vian was near did the Fae question his motives and his plans. Were they too drastic? Was it really time to let go?

"Vian..." Kayen began, his throat tightening slightly with the word.

"Yeah?" She turned into his lingering hand, her cheek brushing against the butt of his palm. Innocent girl, this isn't where you belong.

"I think it's time you head home. I have things to do today. I hope you understand." He stepped away, turning to face toward the bar wrapping along the far wall, intending to fix himself a much-needed drink. "Please visit again when you have the chance, alright?"

Ever accepting of Kayen's mood swings, the youth nodded and headed for the door, leaving without a second look at the man hunched over the polished mahogany of the countertop. Dropping ice into his glass with a few sharp clinks, he sloshed vodka haphazardly into the vessel before peeling away to crumple into the cushioned seat of his recliner. Who was he trying to fool?

He still loved her.

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 02-13-2017



"Nice helmet-" came a voice from behind as Teague was sent fumbling forward by a sudden forceful shove to the base of her spine.

THWACK!

The impact from the second blow is what floored her, the data feed streaming across the inner visor of her helmet was riddled with static spikes as the aftershocks distorted the surrounding area, leaping pixels in her peripherals enough warning to Teague to be prepared for an impending blackout of the system. "Shit," she mouthed just in time for a pressurized hiss to usher forth, the backup computation chip forced to pick up the slack left in wake of the main motherboard being compromised. The entire system was rebooting to avoid short circuiting, and Teague found her helmet a dark place as a boot crushed her torso further to the cement. With the heel digging between her shoulder blades, the woman growled through gritted teeth, partially grateful her attacker couldn't hear the signs of her distress.

"Move and I'll blast your ass back to Nal Hutta, Foxwell." The weight of the foot wavered as if her attacker was considering their options until it eventually lifted so a set of stun cuffs could be adjusted over what little skin was accessible of Teague's wrists. "I'm fuckin' impressed you made it this far, kid-" A pause, "Wait, is that modified neo-crusader armor? Really? I dropped two thousand creds on schmoozing some squeakers to find you, and I come to find out you're wearing armor from the shit age? Oh, this is fuckin' rich. Just fucking perfect."

Hoisted from the floor, Teague wobbled blindly as the inside of her headgear remained without its usual data feed, thus without any means to see what was happening or who had managed to catch her off guard. Muffled and quiet without the voice modifier built into her rig, she asked brazenly, "You here 'bout the parking fines? Damn, didn' think they sent grub lackeys this far into space." She expected some backlash, though the kick she received still earned a soft grunt from the woman before she was half led, half dragged from the edge of New Jedah city to what could only be a ship. Call it a hunch, but Teague had experienced the grating clank of boots slapping laminasteel plating more times than she cared to recall, and the smell of rhydonium never boded well for a prisoner in chains. "We can't even stop to get my things?" She quipped through the silence of boarding procedures, not expecting an answer.

She didn't receive one.

Instead, Teague was left watching a miniature hourglass to the bottom left of her field of vision, denoting the progress of the reboot. Much like watching paint dry would fail to entertain, so too did the observation of a minuscule indicator dripping pixels into an equally pixelated ampoule bore the captive femme. Eventually, despite feeling well rested some two hours prior to taking off, she fell asleep with the hum of the aircraft filtering through vents on either side of the armor. With the battery life consistently worsening on the helmet, it wasn't any wonder that she would wake several hours later to stale air from slumber stifling the narrow lip of available space. No credit to the ion drive engine humming beyond the sleek compartment of the ship, but with her grogginess dissipating in tandem with a series of mechanized coughs through the distorted voice modulator, the sound was noted.

Not just the engine, but the rest as far as Teague could hear from her strapped in position. There were steps approaching, heavy thuds over the grates of slated sheet metal flooring. Despite her otherwise thrilling activity of 'Guess that sound', she knew it was long overdue to relaunch systems and press for information regarding the charges. It wasn't that Teague wasn't guilty of a great many things, but which of those things might matter in how a fellow Mandalorian perceived her, even if he was the one who had ambushed her in an empty alley. As far as Teague was concerned, she wasn't worth the credits being fronted for her capture, but someone considered her a threat, and learning that much was of utmost importance while the two were in transit. Her only saving grace was being spared the containment cell further down the corridor, one which buzzed with energy despite being empty.

"You're awake?"

Teague merely grunted, the screen of her helmet reactivating with the display parting from the middle, stretching to encompass the entirety of her field of vision, and in such, the entirety of the mystery man now kneeling a few feet in front of where she was restraints, elbows resting on his armored thighs so his hands were left swinging idly in the space between himself and Teague. Through his helmet, she couldn't make out his expression, though his voice modulator was lacking and the monotony occasionally lilted with his vocals. For instance, with the grunt Teague issued, the man replied softly but the playfulness was easily read through whatever attempts existed to mask it.

"Easy credits, Foxwell. Enough to buy a very pretty girl with a healthy repertoire of tricks. At this rate, that's what you're going to end up being, you know- Well, minus the pretty part. I'm almost positive you're as ugly as an upside down Bantha under your helmet-"

For the life of her, she couldn't help smiling as if she were keeping a secret from the stranger while still masked, but her reply was coarse due to the lack of use her throat had received since their trip began and hardly passed for the smooth transition Teague had intended for it to be. "How much're you gonna wager?"

"On how ugly you are potentially...?" He laughed while a set of his gloved fingers dragged absently over where the plates separated on his leggings. "Nothing. I'm alright with being wrong so long as me being wrong means you're worth the credits I'm being offered to bag and bring you in." Reaching out his other hand, the stranger issued a few short pats to the top of Teague's helmet in the fashion one might show encouragement to their dog and added, "Pretty girls come and go. A Foxwell is one in a billion."

"Funny," Teague goaded while swiveling her head, rolling the helmet as best she could from the attention of her captor's touch even when it was apparent she wouldn't manage to shake him while strapped in, "but there's plenty of Foxwell kin in this neck of space last I checked. Hell, I talked to Titus a few weeks back, and sure as shit, he mentioned a bounty on my head." This wasn't entirely true, but banking on the ego of her captor wasn't the worst plan Teague could orchestrate in a pinch, and there was no great loss if he didn't want to get into the details immediately. So long as he didn't fall quiet, Teague would have ample opportunities to learn who was pulling the strings on this operation and how she could weasel out of the contract. At this rate, the unknown man was being rather chatty with his prisoner and that eased her concerns involving his motives.

"I'm sure half the galaxy was looking for you. As we both know, contracts made by a Hutt are the most lucrative." Drawing back his hands, the stranger wrenched off his helmet just long enough to show tan features and dark hair slicked back in a small knot on top of a nest of ebony curls. His features were aged, the lines accentuating his eyes and mouth giving Teague a general age to work from. By her guess, he was in his mid-thirties, and behind dark lashes were pale blue eyes that seemed to defy the natural order of his countenance. She flared her nostrils as if revolting against her immediate thoughts on the matter, but before she could make a snarky remark, he returned his helmet and released a muffled groan from inside the armor. "They told me you'd be an issue."

"Because I'm a Foxwell?" Doing her best to move past his attractiveness, Teague offered a meager shrug before asking, "Where are we going and how long will it take to get there?"

"Ganthel." He said flatly, not bothering to answer the latter part of her inquiry. She knew well enough it would take months to get to that part of the galaxy and without realizing it, her fingers tightened nervously around the restraints over her torso, knuckles whitening where they dug into the bindings. "Do you want your helmet off?"

"No." She whispered, trying to envision what might wait for them on Ganthel. No matter what scenario came to mind, the outcome was the same. Kotaska.

"I'm gonna take it off you anyway. It's gotta be uncomfortable wearing that piece of shit while you're back here. No air conditioning for prisoners..." He trailed off before unceremoniously plucking off Teague's helmet, not bothering to ease it off her head. The force of his actions left her gasping, and she blinked as the outside world met her sweaty portrait, bright red pixie cut dripping rivulets of perspiration down her brow so the only hope of not blinding herself was to blink them away as furiously as possible. Now she was visible, vulnerable even, for the stranger to take a moment to stare her down before noting offhandedly, "Not what I expected, Foxwell."

"You expected a body to lug around." Without the mask between her and the male, her voice rang like a bell; short and clear and surprisingly feminine. She hated the sound of it, and more so, she hated that he got to keep his helmet on while hers was left on the seat next to her, out of reach and unable to assist with her current plight. "Why would a Hutt want a drop off on Ganthel?"

"Fuck if I know." Tugging out a scrap of cloth from his chest piece, the stranger leaned inward to dab away the sweat from Teague's face. When she was free of the threat to her eyes, he was satisfied enough to return to a more upright position, the cloth once more tucked behind armor plating. "Maybe they have a buyer lined up for you there."

"Don't think they're lookin' for a chemist on Ganthel..." Shaking her head with a sharp exhale through her nostrils, she remarked, "I'd be happier with my helmet back on."

"Who said I gave a shit if you're happy?"

"Guy doesn't make sure I don't get sweat in my eyes if he doesn't care about my happiness."

"No," He said with a chuckle, "I care that you're comfortable enough to live through this trip. It's a long trip, after all, and as far as I know, they want you in pristine condition. Like brand new, ya know? Now, in the state you're in now, that's you seeming brand new to me... So, I'm gonna make sure you're no worse for wear by the time we get to Ganthel. Princess treatment." Clicking his tongue several times, he seemed to regret his choice of words immediately after they were shared. "Well, damsel in distress treatment at least."

"That makes you the villain." Teague snickered quietly before dragging her sights away from the Mandalorian to once more assess the environment of the ship she could see from her seat. "I gotta pee."

"Seriously? All this shit is happening and you gotta pee?"

"Yeah. It's almost like some sick fuck abducted me from an alleyway outside the cantina I'd been relaxing in. I would have pissed at home, but hell, I never did make it that far." Deadpan, Teague went on to add, "I got nothing to lose by peeing all over your damn upholstery."

"Besides getting to sit in it for however long I leave you."

Teague sneered. "Try me, fucker."

---

RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 02-20-2017

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 05-11-2017

Kade was restless with the weight of limbs surrounding her torso, masculine arms wrapped around her midsection in the most intimate of embraces. The warmth between their two bodies was pressing, like a second set of skin drifting from one fatigued frame to the other in metaphysical waves. In some ways, she was more in tune with his movements than she was with her own, catching his pulse where it thrummed slowly through taut flesh, her fingertips tracing delicate veins while her own pulse was unremarkable, existing only as a dull pounding in her feline ears. The beat of phantom war drums, echoing in time with each wayward thought the Miqo'te harbored. Were it simply a feeling of restlessness, perhaps she might drift back to sleep, but this was more stifling than any bout of anxiety she could recall, her fears rising steadily with each passing second.

When she left, it was quietly, and in a very slow fashion contingent upon avoiding Deton accidentally being woken by his evasive lover's absence. At this point, the two had never managed to flesh out their immediate intentions, and while several conversations between the pair hinted at permanence and stability, Kade wasn't a fool to the strategies of the opposite sex. His goals were always very physical as their previous encounter could attest- and beyond that, they didn't know one another well enough to decide. Rather than bring this to light in a constant regurgitation of facts and fears, she simply left him to his own devices at the end of their evenings together, and when she missed his warmth on her cold walk through Foundation, Kade reminded herself that there was no further loss in admitting defeat. Eventually...

She might stay.

The summer months brought a thaw to the highlands, snow banks waning to make way for greenery in patchy spots, the floral blanket drawing life from the soil while Kade's own machinations drew only contempt from her peers. Those outside Coerthas, past Gridania and her forefather's Gyr Abania, to all that was claimed under the infamous banner of her adopted countrymen and empire- Galemald. Where the sentiment of appreciation may have been lost on the greater population of Eorzia, A'kade cen Destros had been given the freedom so contagiously promised by the Grand Companies at large and while the most recent and lofty goals chased by those in power within Ishgard weren't always the case, her past self had taken little into consideration when signing away her life. Choice, as she was reminded regularly, was never singular and no matter what decisions her siding with the Garleans lead to in the future, she had always been given a choice. Her choice then was to ignore the messages being fed through their usual channels, causing distress from her Praefectus Castrorum liaison.

By the light of dawn hours, sometime after receiving the aforementioned transmissions, Kade was dreading the eventual reprimanding from the Praetor as her legs eased her to the ground. Plucking loose reeds from the riverbank, she ignored the snow beneath her rear while pocketing the plants, their water slick appearance hardly a deterrent for the Miqo'te. The sooner she finished working, the sooner she could return to the welcoming shadows and familiar lips these recent weeks had brought into her life. She often thought of Deton when she was away from him, be it in a sort of hazy light or as the vivid recollection of their countless meet ups. Sometimes, she made the mistake of dwelling on how enraged her companion had been in the alley, and it brought a bubble of hatred rising up her esophagus that she hadn't enough willpower to swallow. Unspoken betrayals committed by both. Her gaze flickered across the surface of the stream, taking note of lingering ice cresting in the degraded shelves along the banks.

It's hard to miss the desert, she realized then while alone with her thoughts and her several tasks planned for the day. One often misses their home, but there hasn't been a home quite like Ishgard for me. None worth thinking about, at any rate...

One isn't allowed to speak. One may listen when spoken to, but otherwise, one didn't listen. One may eat when fed, but otherwise, one didn't eat. One was property and property has no rights. Property is owned. This one has an owner. This one has no rights. This one is A'kade Destros.

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RE: Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 05-25-2017



"You don't need it."

"It's a he, and I need him. I do. Really. I don't think I could live another second without him." Katja had made up her mind long before calling Artemis, but given his seniority, she felt obligated to inform him of this decision. He wasn't happy about it.

"Him, fine. You don't need him. What on earth gave you the idea that there would be enough time in your life for a-"

"Look, there will be. I'm great at multitasking, and for what it's worth, this one is so obedient. Once you meet him, you'll understand. Leonard is perfect for me, and he really fits in that void, you know? Like... I don't know, Artemis. He completes me."

"Did you honestly name him Leonard?" The agitation through the phone's receiver was causing the older Arden's connection to distort. "Do you- name for a- when did you- Fucking hell, Katja-"

"You're breaking up, but I'll be sure to bring him by the tea gardens so you have a chance to meet him. It was great talking to you again! Bye!"

Meanwhile, the poodle puppy tearing at her sneaker had already managed to snag his canines through the laces, effectively shredding the material. Katja cooed happily. "Everyone is going to love you. I know I do."


Leonard had gotten a hold of the poinsettias, and now Katja was sitting in the emergency vet's waiting room, wringing her hands. She tried calling Artemis for advice when it happened, but the older Arden had rid his conscience of her decision to get a dog by warning her that whatever trouble befell Leonard, it wasn't his responsibility to deal with it. Katja agreed at the time, but regretted the decision some months later while sitting alone at three in the morning while the Vet dealt with Leonard's vomiting. She had been assured that it took far more than a few leaves to poison a dog his size, but it was better to be safe than sorry, even if it ruined her sleep schedule. To pass the time, she googled festive plants that weren't dangerous for dogs to eat. The list was surprisingly short.

By the time she left the Vet with Leonard lopping lazily behind her, Katja had an hour to get ready for work. Still, seeing him well again was enough motivation to get her through anything the day had to offer.

Katja had taken the news of Des' death poorly, and for several weeks, she avoided leaving her apartment. Only Leonard earned any hint of effort from the Arden, and during their walks and trips to the park, she imagined what Des would have thought of her choice in companion. A dog while she waited to be assigned. A dog to stave off the loneliness of being an Arden without a charge. A dog to replace the family she had to give up in Arcadia. A dog who still chewed on her sneakers and ate every houseplant she dared to try and raise. Katja thought, despite how negative Artemis had been concerning Leonard, Des would have approved.


Leonard died on a Sunday evening. Katja hadn't thought it could happen so fast- that Leonard could run that quickly from the stoop of the apartment complex to the road... yet there he was. Cotton swab pressed to an open wound, all white and red, with his body tangled and his limbs buckled at their joints. Katja had never thrown up before, but she did it then. She sobbed first, and then threw up, and sobbed more after the contents of her stomach were mere feet away from her once lively pet. Everything was left congealed over the asphalt like an impressionist's art exhibit, too vague for details but too vivid to ignore. She scooped up his body with her jacket, and carried him from where people had begun to gather, her vision blurry and her throat sore from sobbing.

That night, Artemis called her, but she didn't pick up.

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