Beg Mercy [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-28-2019
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. It wasn't clear whether she meant the day off or the accusation of a compliment until she clarified. "I'm not takin' th' day off." Her voice was exactly as hoarse as one would expect having been very dramatically facefucked twice in about an hour, which made it sound like a petulant thing to say, even to her ears. She was serious though; she always was. She hadn't taken a single day off since she'd been dragged into the King's Guard, no matter how little work she actually got done. She shuddered a little bit at the thought of having to go through Grilka, for once wishing Gareth was right. She'd much rather go through him; she hated even remembering Grilka existed, let alone talking to em. She worried at her bottom lip, wondering if Grilka would deny her any visits at all. It sounded like something ey would do. Gareth was the only one she felt like she could trust to even maybe do something other than lock her up and throw away the key. Despite her fears, she nodded in agreement. No point in arguing it. If Grilka turned her down, she could ask Gareth for help convincing em, maybe.
She caught herself reaching out slightly as the King reached towards a vein of gold, then got confused for a moment, unsure of why she'd done it. When she realized, she blushed slightly, berating herself for the unreasonable thought that had crossed through her mind even briefly. She curled more tightly to Gareth, determined to get the skin-on-skin contact she was craving from someone who would at least pretend to humor her.
"Are we headin' back already?" she asked, trying not to pout an failing. The King was transforming, which might mean he wanted to fly back. Or it might mean something else; she wasn't really sure. For all she knew, he literally only bothered with his smaller form for fucking. If that was the case, she felt even sillier about her earlier terror. Leave it to her to not be able to tell someone wanted to fuck her or kill her, honestly.
She poked Gareth in the ribs, just mostly to prove she could. "I wanna sandwich before we go back," she informed him. "An' I appear to have been fucked so hard I can't even move. You'll hafta make it for me." She pretended to swoon into his arms. "Y'might even hafta feed it to me; I'm so weak."
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-28-2019
"You might change your mind when you wake up in the morning," Gareth warned. He imagined her rousing all sore and bruised, and immediately pulling blankets over her head to go back to sleep. "But if you're that eager to see me again, so be it." That part he added just to annoy her, knowing that she'd deny fervently ever wanting anything to do with him. Despite the fact that she'd practically ordered him to destroy her throat and leave her hoarse as she was.
The King, all shimmering scales and magnificent size, shook off lead-tainted water before sliding back into the spring. Gareth held her close, trying to soothe her by running his hands over her back.
"Take your time," the King said, settling comfortably for one last soak. He was languid again, stretching out his wings.
"And I'm supposed to believe you'll be able to work tomorrow?" Gareth said. He brought her with him to the edge of the spring, regardless. The lack of a knife as he rummaged through the basket of food was an annoyance, but he tore carefully at a small boule of bread so that he stuff it with shaved ham and crumbled bits of cheddar.
Ordinarily if he made a sandwich he'd make it much prettier. There'd be oils and vinegars and various herbs and greens. This half-assed creation was an insult to his sandwich-making abilities. Regardless, he tore off a piece much smaller than she would have claimed for herself, and offered it to her.
The King, all shimmering scales and magnificent size, shook off lead-tainted water before sliding back into the spring. Gareth held her close, trying to soothe her by running his hands over her back.
"Take your time," the King said, settling comfortably for one last soak. He was languid again, stretching out his wings.
"And I'm supposed to believe you'll be able to work tomorrow?" Gareth said. He brought her with him to the edge of the spring, regardless. The lack of a knife as he rummaged through the basket of food was an annoyance, but he tore carefully at a small boule of bread so that he stuff it with shaved ham and crumbled bits of cheddar.
Ordinarily if he made a sandwich he'd make it much prettier. There'd be oils and vinegars and various herbs and greens. This half-assed creation was an insult to his sandwich-making abilities. Regardless, he tore off a piece much smaller than she would have claimed for herself, and offered it to her.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-28-2019
"Oh, stop flatterin' yerself," she grumbled, flushing. She would have shoved him off of her if not for the fact she would have immediately then begun drowning. "The King was right, I went and made y'catch vanity. It's terminal." Ren watched the King stretch out magnificently, all glistening scales and mini-rainbows in the sun. She sighed. "Don't it kinda almost piss ya off how pretty he is?" she muttered under her breath. "He's so aesthetic that he'd the most bejeweled bitch at the party weep in envy."
She snorted, hanging limp as a spoiled cat as Gareth dragged her back to shore. She couldn't swim, so why bother trying? If the King ever took her back here, she promised herself, she'd let Gareth teach her how to swim. Two times could almost be habit forming, and who knew when she'd need to jump into a river out of a hot air dragon. Swimming excuses aside, anyway, her ankle hurt badly enough that she noticed even when distracted by how much her ass hurt. The longer she could go without anyone noticing she'd maybe broken her foot kicking the King, the better.
"Obviously, yer supposed to believe it." She'd shown up with burns and whip wounds--not that she'd ever let him see them--a busted ankle and a sore throat wasn't gonna put her out of commission. Although he was right in that she probably wouldn't be doing that much actual work. "Y'have met me, right? Takes more'n double servings of dragon 'n' demon dick to keep me down." She stretched out once she was at the edge of the spring, where she could sit comfortably on a natural shelf. "Triple servings might, though, so it's proly good his royal highness is big as a barn again." Succubus stamina was obscene, and dragon stamina was clearly just as bad. She was only human. Mostly.
She accepted his sandwich-esque concoction without a single critical word to his sandwich making skills, although she did make pointed eye contact as she shoved the entire part he handed her into her mouth. She was perfectly capable of taking bites out of a sandwich. Reasonably sized ones, even. But if he was going to be a fuss about it, she was going to fuss right back.
She struggled with a swallow, then gestured with a tired hand towards the King. "What's it say about me tha' I already kinda wanna climb him again? Literally, I mean, not a sex thing." He just looked... damn, he just looked so climbable.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-29-2019
"I can put my shirt back on, you know," Gareth reminded her. "Well, no, I can't. But I can put a blanket on.
"A lot of things are pretty," he said mildly. Avalanche was as pretty as his namesake, as a blizzard, as lightning or a forest fire. He was a natural disaster that only sometimes meant well. Gareth knew better than to let himself get distracted by appearances, and would have felt a touch inappropriate doing so, besides.
"You're extremely sturdy," he assured her, which may or may not have been a compliment. Still, she could have let herself take breaks more often. He didn't know why she didn't, when she so often resented the work anyway. He wouldn't flatter himself with the idea that it was a genuine desire for his company. She had her rats, and the other charges of the King's Guard, and the many books he'd given her. To say nothing of various amusements she'd surely stolen by now.
Gareth continued to tear off tiny pieces, since it was the only way to get her taking reasonable bites.
"I have that effect on people," the King said, though she hadn't been talking to him.
"A lot of things are pretty," he said mildly. Avalanche was as pretty as his namesake, as a blizzard, as lightning or a forest fire. He was a natural disaster that only sometimes meant well. Gareth knew better than to let himself get distracted by appearances, and would have felt a touch inappropriate doing so, besides.
"You're extremely sturdy," he assured her, which may or may not have been a compliment. Still, she could have let herself take breaks more often. He didn't know why she didn't, when she so often resented the work anyway. He wouldn't flatter himself with the idea that it was a genuine desire for his company. She had her rats, and the other charges of the King's Guard, and the many books he'd given her. To say nothing of various amusements she'd surely stolen by now.
Gareth continued to tear off tiny pieces, since it was the only way to get her taking reasonable bites.
"I have that effect on people," the King said, though she hadn't been talking to him.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-29-2019
"No, y'can't," Ren countered. "Because you'd hafta get out of the water to do it, and yer not gonna sit there in the cold in the blanket just cause I won't tell ya yer pretty." She laughed to herself. "Bet yer not lookin' forward to taken the flight back soakin' wet." She wasn't really either, to be honest, but she also wasn't going to huddle with him under a blanket, not when there was a whole world to stare at. If she froze, she froze. "Damn right I am," she said, nodding and clearly taking it as the compliment she was sure it was. "And yer damn lucky, too, otherwise I woulda fuckin' snapped in half by now." She had known she was hardy and somewhat flexible before Gareth, but she sure hadn't realized she could use it for that before him. Happy coincidence, she supposed. Although he had a dwarf girlfriend, so clearly this wasn't exactly a unique trait. Lots of things must have had it; she was pretty sure she wasn't part dwarf. Wouldn't explain the rats.
She had forgotten about the King's super dragon hearing, although she really shouldn't have. A bit embarrassing, but she supposed it didn't really matter. He knew he was pretty and climbable. "It'sa natural human instinct," she informed him. "An' the taller and more dangerous somethin' would be to climb, the more we want to." She kept eating, tolerating Gareth's slow feeding pace with increasing impatience. It felt like it took forever to get through one sandwich, but despite her desire to eat the entire ham, she was still limited by the size of her stomach, which hadn't really appreciated their attempts at rearranging her organs.
She stretched, and sighed, and stared towards the sun, which was on its slow journey towards the western horizon. "I can't remember the last time I fuckin' saw the sunset," she said, before realizing what a depressing thing it was to say. It was true, however. It must have been sometime before her arrest, but she hadn't really thought to pay close attention to it. Stupid, really. She should have been appreciating every single one she got.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-30-2019
"Ugh." Gareth had been trying not to think about the ride home. It would feel even colder now that they'd been in this hot water for so long. "Even after we get back and change, I'll have to ride home in jizz-pants," he realized. "My options are a blanket or jizz-pants."
"I have pants," the King said.
"Not that fit me."
"I have skirts."
"Those might fit me, but I can't ride sidesaddle. I'll just have to spill engine grease all over myself and hope no one notices, or something." He'd started keeping spare clothes in his office, but those had already been ruined this week and he hadn't replaced them. He'd been distracted trying to express to Ren how very much she could not fuck around when meeting the King.
Irony was stupid.
"That's not universal," Gareth said, because most of the humans who beheld the King were not overwhelmed with climbing-based desires. More running-based.
"Perhaps more common among those whose company I keep," the King mused, and Gareth blushed a little.
He wanted, in an odd way, to show Ren the sunset.
"We must leave before dark falls," the King said, rising out of the water one last time. He shook the water from his scales. All of the fun things in the capital happened at night, after all. Gareth brushed off his hands as Ren finished off her sandwich, wincing as he pulled himself out of the water. It was fucking cold. He offered Ren his hands to help her stand.
"I have pants," the King said.
"Not that fit me."
"I have skirts."
"Those might fit me, but I can't ride sidesaddle. I'll just have to spill engine grease all over myself and hope no one notices, or something." He'd started keeping spare clothes in his office, but those had already been ruined this week and he hadn't replaced them. He'd been distracted trying to express to Ren how very much she could not fuck around when meeting the King.
Irony was stupid.
"That's not universal," Gareth said, because most of the humans who beheld the King were not overwhelmed with climbing-based desires. More running-based.
"Perhaps more common among those whose company I keep," the King mused, and Gareth blushed a little.
He wanted, in an odd way, to show Ren the sunset.
"We must leave before dark falls," the King said, rising out of the water one last time. He shook the water from his scales. All of the fun things in the capital happened at night, after all. Gareth brushed off his hands as Ren finished off her sandwich, wincing as he pulled himself out of the water. It was fucking cold. He offered Ren his hands to help her stand.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-30-2019
"The engine grease trick!" Ren said, clapping. "Tha's my favorite one. We fuckin' use that one all the time. I know I got put on th' list because I gotta bad rep for accidents, but swear to th' land 'n' skies, a full halfa th' 'accidents' we have are him pretendin' I'm hurt cause he tore my clothes off or fucked me so hard I couldn't walk, or him sayin' I spilled fuckin' engine grease again because he went an' got jizz all over one or both o' us!" she explained animatedly to the King, gesturing graphically to indicate just how explosively spread the jizz could get. "My hand t'god; the King's Guard proly thinks I'm cursed by now." She was a little cursed, but a primary cause of both accidents and injuries, at this point, were tripping and falling ass-first into his dick. Neither of them seemed particularly inclined to stop, however.
"Anyway, it's not like I'm in better straights, or didya forget th' King straight up tore my uniform off? S'not like his pants would fit me any more than they'd fit you." She was just sort of vaguely hoping someone would toss a blanket over her, that was what Gareth tended to do when this happened. Toss a blanket over her and pretend there'd been an accident that didn't involve him sodomizing her.
"It's absolutely universal," she maintained. But the King said it was time to leave... probably it got far too cold after dark, or he had a Kingly Appointment or something. Regretfully, she reached up to take Gareth's hand, which turned out to be a good idea. The second she tried to climb out of the spring, either her ankle or her legs or possibly both gave out entirely. She sprawled forward, catching herself against Gareth's arms as he rushed to keep her from collapsing onto the rocks. She pushed at him, embarrassed, trying to figure out how to get her ankle to hold weight.
"Fuck," she swore. "This is yer dick's fault, both o' ya," she accused, although she privately suspected it was as much if not more her ankle as the weakness in her legs. "Oh, Ren's so small an' so stretchy lessee how much dick we can put in her in one day. Fuck--no don't pick me up, I gotta figure this shit out sooner or later unless yer plannin' on spendin' the night."
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-30-2019
"Those aren't reportable incidents," Gareth muttered, skin turning darker. "That's—a certain amount of mess is normal." And anyway, it wasn't as if he went hauling her limping out of the workshop when she was behaving herself. He was unwilling to accept any blame for artificial inflation of accident statistics when an accident was so often the inciting factor. "It's the property damage I can't account for." When tables needed replacing and parachutes exploded, it was difficult to pretend nothing was wrong on the associated forms.
"I'm sure he has something you could wear," Gareth said without sympathy. She could fit into most things. Being too small was not remotely the same as being too big.
Gareth caught her, and though it wasn't the first time she'd gone week in the knees after getting railed, the shape of her fall still made him suspicious. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.
"She crunched a bit when she kicked me," the King said, wandering closer.
"What!"
"They do that sometimes," the King added.
"Why didn't you say something?" Gareth demanded of both of them.
"It was only her foot," the King pointed out. "I did not think she would be needing it."
"I'll have someone take a look at it for you," Gareth assured her, still holding her close.
"I'm sure he has something you could wear," Gareth said without sympathy. She could fit into most things. Being too small was not remotely the same as being too big.
Gareth caught her, and though it wasn't the first time she'd gone week in the knees after getting railed, the shape of her fall still made him suspicious. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.
"She crunched a bit when she kicked me," the King said, wandering closer.
"What!"
"They do that sometimes," the King added.
"Why didn't you say something?" Gareth demanded of both of them.
"It was only her foot," the King pointed out. "I did not think she would be needing it."
"I'll have someone take a look at it for you," Gareth assured her, still holding her close.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-30-2019
"Ooohhh, a certain amount o' mess is normal when it's yer jizz, but when it's engine fuel on th' table or oil on th' uniform, suddenly it's a big fuss," Ren said, giving the air of someone repeating an argument for the 98th time out of sheer habit. "Tell ya what, lemme cut that fuel with yer cum and suddenly ya wouldn't mind me gettin' it splashed on me." She'd been right in the middle of insisting she was totally fine when the King interjected. She flushed bright red immediately, as if a broken ankle was more mortifying than being dicked until she couldn't walk. She shot the King a brief look of betrayal without really thinking it through. There was nothing between them to betray, for one, and also, he was a very large dragon and out of the water she was starting to get shaky looking at him again. His eyes were the same in both forms, which if anything made the whole situation worse.
"It's jus' my foot," she echoed the King, glaring vaguely into space, cheeks still red. "Besides, what was I supposed to say? I busted my foot kickin' his royal highness cause I can't tell sex from murder yet?" She fanned her face, which was hot despite the chill in the air, then opted for trying to hide her expression altogether by bending down to pick up the King's cape, which she'd deserted by the edge of the water when they first arrived. She had to use Gareth for support and stand on one leg when she bent.
"Anyway, I dun wanna go to the doctor again, he's fuckin' weird," she grumbled. He'd been very judgmental the first time she'd been, what with her bruises around her neck and arms and other extremely pointed injuries. "Thought you'd be happy, honestly, it'll keep me sittin' still an' yer always on about that." She poked at Gareth's ribs again. "Grab the ham." She pushed at him until he released her enough for her to take an unstable, wobbling step towards the basket. "If the King ain't gonna eat it I wanna take it back to my room." She took another step, a bit less uncertain this time as she figured out how to put weight on it in a way that hurt but didn't cause her to lose balance.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-30-2019
"My semen isn't flammable—and no, you can't check. Making potions out of it isn't going to make me more amenable to watching you self-immolate, and I don't know why you think it would."
The King found this all amusing, but resisted the temptation to nose at the small and blushing human. "I will send someone to see her," he said. "She is hardly the first." All she really needed was someone to wrap it so that it healed properly. Not exactly dangerous. The King knew several people, now, who were experts in their ability to discreetly bandage a flailing idiot before sending them on their way.
Why flailing was such an ingrained human instinct, he could not imagine. It seemed to hurt them more than it ever helped.
"I'm never going to be happy about you being injured," Gareth said seriously. Still, he let her go and collected the basket of food and the abandoned brushes.
The King, when he became impatient, picked her up and set her down in the larger basket while waiting for Gareth. Only when Gareth was situated—wrapped irritably in a series of three different blankets—did the King pick them up and take a great leap off the edge of the mountain. He dove longer than necessary before unfurling his wings and letting them catch the air, gliding back in the general direction of the castle.
He moved in wide, sweeping arcs instead of a straight line. That city-state they'd passed earlier was lit up with crystals of the kind that had emerged from the stone in the hot spring, all their artificial rivers aglow. He sent out another greeting flare, because it felt polite.
The invisible border of Aeris came and went, fires going up in small villages and at isolated farms. The King took a detour toward a lake he'd previously ignored, where the earth fell low in the middle of a forest. From ground level, the lake wouldn't even be visible from outside the trees; small roads wound through, not visible from the sky. He followed the coast of it, which couldn't be called a beach—too many trees, too much stone, not enough sand.
He landed in a clearing full of wildflowers, marred by a tall and crooked cabin nestled in the trees. Half of it was almost a regular cabin, aside from being built to a larger scale than most, the roof twelve feet tall at its lowest. The other half was a tower with shingled siding, going upward and then left and then upward again, defying sensible physics. The roof of the tower was a sharp conical spire, the peak of which crooked in the opposite direction. Vines climbed the sides of it, and the porch was railed in by gnarled branches, decorated with suncatchers and wind chimes. Flowers and herbs grew in abundance all around it. Further out were patches of pumpkin and other squash, and several chickens mulled about, their black feathers sticking straight out like fluff and covering even their own eyes. Their coop was a wooden arch like an upturned boat. A fat sheep with white wool and a black face nibbled on clover, unperturbed by the arrival of a dragon. A long-haired goat, black in the front and white in the back, seemed to be considering ramming him. They both wore large bells tied with embroidered ribbons around their necks. The stable was empty.
"Now you may retrieve pants," the King said magnanimously.
The King found this all amusing, but resisted the temptation to nose at the small and blushing human. "I will send someone to see her," he said. "She is hardly the first." All she really needed was someone to wrap it so that it healed properly. Not exactly dangerous. The King knew several people, now, who were experts in their ability to discreetly bandage a flailing idiot before sending them on their way.
Why flailing was such an ingrained human instinct, he could not imagine. It seemed to hurt them more than it ever helped.
"I'm never going to be happy about you being injured," Gareth said seriously. Still, he let her go and collected the basket of food and the abandoned brushes.
The King, when he became impatient, picked her up and set her down in the larger basket while waiting for Gareth. Only when Gareth was situated—wrapped irritably in a series of three different blankets—did the King pick them up and take a great leap off the edge of the mountain. He dove longer than necessary before unfurling his wings and letting them catch the air, gliding back in the general direction of the castle.
He moved in wide, sweeping arcs instead of a straight line. That city-state they'd passed earlier was lit up with crystals of the kind that had emerged from the stone in the hot spring, all their artificial rivers aglow. He sent out another greeting flare, because it felt polite.
The invisible border of Aeris came and went, fires going up in small villages and at isolated farms. The King took a detour toward a lake he'd previously ignored, where the earth fell low in the middle of a forest. From ground level, the lake wouldn't even be visible from outside the trees; small roads wound through, not visible from the sky. He followed the coast of it, which couldn't be called a beach—too many trees, too much stone, not enough sand.
He landed in a clearing full of wildflowers, marred by a tall and crooked cabin nestled in the trees. Half of it was almost a regular cabin, aside from being built to a larger scale than most, the roof twelve feet tall at its lowest. The other half was a tower with shingled siding, going upward and then left and then upward again, defying sensible physics. The roof of the tower was a sharp conical spire, the peak of which crooked in the opposite direction. Vines climbed the sides of it, and the porch was railed in by gnarled branches, decorated with suncatchers and wind chimes. Flowers and herbs grew in abundance all around it. Further out were patches of pumpkin and other squash, and several chickens mulled about, their black feathers sticking straight out like fluff and covering even their own eyes. Their coop was a wooden arch like an upturned boat. A fat sheep with white wool and a black face nibbled on clover, unperturbed by the arrival of a dragon. A long-haired goat, black in the front and white in the back, seemed to be considering ramming him. They both wore large bells tied with embroidered ribbons around their necks. The stable was empty.
"Now you may retrieve pants," the King said magnanimously.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-30-2019
Ren was genuinely surprised when the King volunteered a physician. For a number of reasons, but mostly she just couldn't grasp why he would bother. It knocked her off her stride--metaphorically--enough that she didn't argue. Also, he was the King, so she couldn't. It would probably rankle Gareth that she submitted to the concept so quickly when normally trying to get her to practice even a modicum of self-preservation or self-care was like wrestling a furious, wet cat into a head cone. Just as confusing was Gareth's serious insistence. Honestly, what was she supposed to do with these two fuckheads. It was like they didn't even realize she was their prisoner. She rubbed at her nose, trying to will her cheeks to be less red and failing miserably. "Yer both ridiculous," she grumbled under her breath, limping determinedly towards the basket. "I can't understand either one of--" her voice cut off in a sudden shriek when the King picked her up. It had been one thing when she'd been expecting, but being swept up from behind was something else entirely. Her shriek abruptly ended in a squeak as he dumped her--rather gently--into the basket. She sat there for a moment, stunned and bright red.
This was too much. She was going to die right here, of confusing feelings and embarrassment. The dragon would never even get the chance to do her in. She ducked her head down to hide the blushing--it was way too late for that--and pretended like she was doing it just to tie the King's cloak back on. Too bad he'd never let her keep it. It was softer than anything she'd ever felt, let alone owned.
She had her embarrassment slightly under control by the time Gareth got settled. It was tempting to snuggle with him under the blankets, but she wasn't going to lose her view, no matter how cold she was. Which was a lot. Adding water to the mix had definitely made it worse. But she still whooped with glee as the King dove, despite the fact Gareth was probably nearly shitting himself in terror from the sensation. In fact, she held onto the edge of the basket and jumped, enjoying the way it took her so much longer to land back on the basket's floor. The King caught himself in the air while she was jumping, causing her to tumble onto the floor of the basket with a laugh. She rolled over and then scrambled onto her knees, peering over the edge again.
The King seemed to enjoy himself just as much this time, and so did Ren, studying every inch of available land. Maybe when--there was no if, not anymore--she escaped, she'd head to the mysterious city they'd passed both times, now all lit up with crystals like the ones in the spring. She'd have to keep moving--it was too close to Aeris--but she really wanted to see what it was like.
The King took a different route this time, but she didn't know enough about the lay of the land to question until he landed by a lake. She peered out, confused and curious. There was a cabin here, tall and crooked and kind of looking like a lumberjack had taken up wizardry, or possibly a wizard had taken up lumberjacking. There were rats in the stable, and their presence was like a soothing balm. Unthinking, she scrambled out of the basket, flipping over herself and falling onto her ass amongst the flowers.
"Pants?" she asked, distracted only briefly by the King's words. "What, is this a tailor shop or something?" She couldn't imagine it would be. She stood up, still wobbling. She wanted the rats to come to her, but they were scared of the King. This was fair, but she insisted. "This is so fuckin' picturesque!" she exclaimed. There was a goat and a sheep and chickens and a stable with rats in it. Flowers everywhere, including the wildflowers she was currently all but rolling in, the King's cloak probably picking up grass stains at a worrying rate. "Is this like yer lake home or something?"
She held out a hand as the bravest and largest of the rats scurried over to her. It leapt up at her chest like an excitable dog, and she caught it in a hug. "Hullo there, Byron!"
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-30-2019
Gareth realized too late where they were.
"Don't—"
She was already out of the basket.
"Get back in the basket," Gareth ordered as he climbed out of it. "Fuck me, that's—that's been in the stable this whole time. Clouds. That's… great. Get back in the basket and wait, I'll be right out. You can keep the—you can't keep the rat, I'm not flying with that. Don't touch anything."
He had not prepared for guests, and furthermore, being out in his yard without pants on was weird. He was acutely self-conscious the whole walk up to his door, fussing with the trick lock and sighing with relief when he could finally shut the door behind him.
If he could get away with it, he'd go straight to bed and tell them both to go back without him. But Nighthoof was still in the stable at the castle, and he'd have to get to work tomorrow somehow. So.
He found a towel first, buffing away any moisture that might be left and rubbing it in his hair as he sought out clothes. He was in too much of a hurry to put on a full suit, so he settled for a pair of black trousers and a sweater. He threw the towel in the laundry, tied his hair back into a ribbon feeling half-dressed and awkward. His boots were still back at the castle, so he could skip those for now. He was halfway to the door before remembering Ren was still naked, cursing and turning back around. He wound his way back up the stairs and started digging through the dresser at the foot of his bed again. He finally found an old Elven flannel he hadn't worn in some time. That would work temporarily, right? It was big enough. Sort of robe-like, maybe.
The King had decided to amuse himself fighting the goat. This consisted of holding his claw out in a fist while the goat determinedly rammed at it. Her horns weren't as large as a male of her species, but she was not aware of any deficiencies on her part. The sheep continued to chew grass.
Lurking near the woods, a wolf was slinking closer, watching the rats.
"Don't—"
She was already out of the basket.
"Get back in the basket," Gareth ordered as he climbed out of it. "Fuck me, that's—that's been in the stable this whole time. Clouds. That's… great. Get back in the basket and wait, I'll be right out. You can keep the—you can't keep the rat, I'm not flying with that. Don't touch anything."
He had not prepared for guests, and furthermore, being out in his yard without pants on was weird. He was acutely self-conscious the whole walk up to his door, fussing with the trick lock and sighing with relief when he could finally shut the door behind him.
If he could get away with it, he'd go straight to bed and tell them both to go back without him. But Nighthoof was still in the stable at the castle, and he'd have to get to work tomorrow somehow. So.
He found a towel first, buffing away any moisture that might be left and rubbing it in his hair as he sought out clothes. He was in too much of a hurry to put on a full suit, so he settled for a pair of black trousers and a sweater. He threw the towel in the laundry, tied his hair back into a ribbon feeling half-dressed and awkward. His boots were still back at the castle, so he could skip those for now. He was halfway to the door before remembering Ren was still naked, cursing and turning back around. He wound his way back up the stairs and started digging through the dresser at the foot of his bed again. He finally found an old Elven flannel he hadn't worn in some time. That would work temporarily, right? It was big enough. Sort of robe-like, maybe.
The King had decided to amuse himself fighting the goat. This consisted of holding his claw out in a fist while the goat determinedly rammed at it. Her horns weren't as large as a male of her species, but she was not aware of any deficiencies on her part. The sheep continued to chew grass.
Lurking near the woods, a wolf was slinking closer, watching the rats.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-30-2019
Ren blinked in confusion, unclear as to why Gareth seemed to so upset. She held the rat tight to her naked chest, unaware of any mixed feelings that could cause for anyone. Her legs were sprawled out underneath her and she pouted as Gareth ran off. "What's his problem?" she complained as he rushed to the cabin. She looked down at the rat. "What do you think?" The rat had suggestions, which was exactly when she realized what was going on. Well, it was the rat and the fact that Gareth was going inside and shutting the door behind him. The stared at the house, and then at the flowers, animals, and general beauty of her surroundings. She then swore, loudly.
"This is his fuckin' house isn't it!" she exclaimed. "He lives out here on a fuckin' lake in a cabin with fuckin' sheep and chickens! Holy shit!" It was so idyllic as to be almost rage inducing, but mostly she was just jealous. She'd never seen this much nature. It looked like a page in a picture book. She whistled, and another handful of rats scurried over and began crawling on her. They were worried about the King, but she reassured them, shushing them gently as she scratched under their chins.
"He never told me he had a cabin," she complained to the King. "Or rats! I didn't even know about the sheep til you mentioned it this mornin'." She didn't know why that hurt her feelings, but it did. He wanted to keep his idyllic home life seperate from his hellacious work life and the piece of shit prisoner he fucked. Fine, that was fine. She got it. She just wished she had a home life to keep meticulously private. One of the rats climbed into her hair, and she giggled before sending them scurrying off to fetch her things. Sitting in wildflowers as she was, with a semi-broken foot, and not knowing how long Gareth was going to take, she'd need something to do with her hands.
"Have you been here a lot?" she asked the King as she began braiding flowers together idly. Rats were bringing her what she needed. It was a good bonding activity; she used to play these games with new rats all the time. Got their brains sharp, and helped then trust her. One dragged a huge chunk of cheese out of the basket for them to take turns feasting on inbetween flower quests. "I mean, I assume ya have, cause yer fist bumpin' his goat."
She was idly ignoring the rats' ongoing warnings about a nearby predator, comforting them, assuming they were just talking about the King. Because what the fuck else would they be talking about? There was a dragon here. That was the only predator that mattered, obviously.
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - Tindome - 10-30-2019
The King was disappointed when the goat finally gave up, sitting sullenly in the grass. "He built it," he said, "once he gave up his sword." He settled down onto the ground, sniffing at various flowers. "I do not think he would consider those his rats. But he has always been good at compartmentalizing, I think. This is a safe place." He paused. "I do not come here often."
The windchimes sang in a gentle breeze, alongside the sound of happily babbling chickens and water lapping over rocks.
Gareth came outside with a towel and a shirt draped over one arm. He noticed first that Ren hadn't listened to him. He noticed second what Ren hadn't.
"Hey," he barked. "Back the fuck off." It shattered the silence and carried all through the clearing.
The wolf, which had been in range to leap onto Ren, sat up straight. It was the picture of well-behaved innocence for approximately one second, before pawing in Ren's direction and standing again.
It was larger than she was, not that this said much. It was larger than many people, which said more.
"Bones," Gareth warned, still coming closer. "No. No."
Bones loped past Ren to tackle Gareth. He caught it with an annoyed grunt. "All right, dumbass, calm down." He practically threw the wolf in the King's direction. It landed running, and did a lap around the dragon. Gareth checked that the towel and shirt didn't have fur on them before handing them to Ren. "I told you to get back in the basket," he reminded her. He didn't even know where to begin with the rats. Then he jogged back toward the garden, eyes on the ground until he found what he was looking for: the half-eaten haunch of a boar. He grabbed the bone jutting out of it to lift it off the ground. "Hey," he called, getting the wolf's attention. He held up the haunch, and it started to run toward him. "Fetch," he said, flinging it up and out to travel and absurd distance over the treetops.
The wolf immediately spun around and started chasing it.
"Dumbass," he muttered, wiping his hand off in the grass.
"I like your sweater," the King said.
"Thanks."
The windchimes sang in a gentle breeze, alongside the sound of happily babbling chickens and water lapping over rocks.
Gareth came outside with a towel and a shirt draped over one arm. He noticed first that Ren hadn't listened to him. He noticed second what Ren hadn't.
"Hey," he barked. "Back the fuck off." It shattered the silence and carried all through the clearing.
The wolf, which had been in range to leap onto Ren, sat up straight. It was the picture of well-behaved innocence for approximately one second, before pawing in Ren's direction and standing again.
It was larger than she was, not that this said much. It was larger than many people, which said more.
"Bones," Gareth warned, still coming closer. "No. No."
Bones loped past Ren to tackle Gareth. He caught it with an annoyed grunt. "All right, dumbass, calm down." He practically threw the wolf in the King's direction. It landed running, and did a lap around the dragon. Gareth checked that the towel and shirt didn't have fur on them before handing them to Ren. "I told you to get back in the basket," he reminded her. He didn't even know where to begin with the rats. Then he jogged back toward the garden, eyes on the ground until he found what he was looking for: the half-eaten haunch of a boar. He grabbed the bone jutting out of it to lift it off the ground. "Hey," he called, getting the wolf's attention. He held up the haunch, and it started to run toward him. "Fetch," he said, flinging it up and out to travel and absurd distance over the treetops.
The wolf immediately spun around and started chasing it.
"Dumbass," he muttered, wiping his hand off in the grass.
"I like your sweater," the King said.
"Thanks."
RE: Beg Mercy [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-30-2019
"Of course they're not his, they're mine--wait. Gave up his sword?" Ren repeated, distracted from her flowers and rats and cheese. "What do you mean gave up his sword? He had a sword? I thought he was always in management. He--" She was interrupted abruptly by Gareth's voice, sharp and loud. She'd heard him raise his voice to her any number of times, but this was different. Her eyes snapped to him and she visibly wilted, eyes going wide as she tried instinctively to figure out what she'd done wrong. It was the rats, wasn't it? She'd done something wrong with them, or was playing with them when she wasn't supposed to. They had already scurried behind her, a command she hadn't noticed giving. Bad habit.
That was about when she noticed the wolf.
She yelped and fell over sideways into the flowers. THERE WAS A WOLF. WHY WAS THERE A WOLF. Fortunately, she was confused enough and frightened enough of the unfamiliar tone in Gareth's voice that she didn't make any moves to defend herself with her rats. She watched in dumbstruck bewilderedness as the wolf--who had a name--tackled Gareth like a playful puppy.
Ah. It was a pet. He had a pet wolf. Of course he did.
"Who are you?" she asked, baffled, as he handed her a towel and-- "Oh! Hey, is this elven? It looks authentic!" she exclaimed, momentarily distracted. Only momentarily, though. "You've got a garden," she said accusatorially. "An' chickens. An' a goat that wants to fight the King. An' you've got five rats." She didn't know where she was going with this. But she hadn't known any of it, and for some reason, that hurt.
Byron scrambled up onto her shoulder, little nails causing pinpricks in her skin. "This is Byron. He doesn't like yer wolf." Ren was of two minds about the wolf. It felt hypocritical to dislike it when she had spent all day with a predator of the highest order. Her half-made flower chain hang loosely from the hand that wasn't clutching the flannel. "But he does like yer taste in compost. D'you want me to talk to him for ya? Y'could probably come to an arrangement." She frowned. "Y'can't hurt him just cause y'know about him now," she warned. "You'll regret it."