Beg Off [Closed] - Printable Version
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Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-05-2019
![[Image: begoff.png]](https://alonimi.net/misc/images/graphics/begoff.png)
Content Warnings: D/s Dynamics ❤ Boss/Employee ❤ Master/Servant ❤ King/Not Technically Slaves But ❤ Fucked Up Power Dynamics ❤ Size Difference ❤ Maledom ❤ Femsub ❤ Malesub ❤ Femdom ❤ PTSD ❤ Anachronistic Steampunk Outfits ❤ Cross-Dressing ❤ Punkin Chunkin ❤ Deep-Fried Versions Of Things That Shouldn't Be Deep Fried ❤ Unprotected Sex But They're Magic So It's Fine ❤ Murder Ballads ❤ Threats of Physical Violence ❤ Improvised Bondage ❤ Narratophilia ❤ Subterphilia ❤ ... Erotic Tackling (???) ❤ Cunnilingus ❤ Sharp Fangy Teeth ❤ Forced Orgasms ❤ Frottage ❤ Rough Sex ❤ Tailjobs ❤ Bullying, But Make It Sexy ❤ Penis-in-Vagina Sex ❤ Fellatio ❤ Irrumatio ❤ Throat-Fucking ❤ Two Mouths One Dick ❤ Anal Sex ❤ Teasing ❤ Breastplay ❤ Magical Thermodynamics ❤ Pet Play ❤ Creampie ❤ Cum-Swapping ❤ Just A Lot Of Fluids Everywhere ❤ Slapping ❤ Near-Death Experiences, Only Sometimes Kinda Hot
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-05-2019
Gareth had gone home before lunch the day that the King burst into Ren's room. Burst, nearly knocking the door off its hinges in his enthusiasm at having found her. He slammed the door behind himself just as quickly. "Quiet," he hissed, as if he weren't the one making all the noise.
He'd braided his hair and wore it in a rope over his shoulder. He was wearing a shirt of loose white linen and a pair of black trousers that he may well have stolen from someone. They hid most of his usual tall boots. His face was dirty in the clumsy manner of someone who'd deliberately dirtied their face. It was not particularly effective at hiding his pearl-white skin. The hood on his wool cloak did a little better, leather gloves on his hands that matched his fine boots and nothing else. His eyes had a gleam like madness.
"We need to go," he said urgently, his voice low. "If we hurry, no one should notice—you need a disguise, do you have a disguise? I didn't bring a disguise. Shit. I didn't plan this well at all. I was just in such a hurry to get down here before it was too late, I wasn't thinking—please tell me you have something, we haven't much time."
He'd braided his hair and wore it in a rope over his shoulder. He was wearing a shirt of loose white linen and a pair of black trousers that he may well have stolen from someone. They hid most of his usual tall boots. His face was dirty in the clumsy manner of someone who'd deliberately dirtied their face. It was not particularly effective at hiding his pearl-white skin. The hood on his wool cloak did a little better, leather gloves on his hands that matched his fine boots and nothing else. His eyes had a gleam like madness.
"We need to go," he said urgently, his voice low. "If we hurry, no one should notice—you need a disguise, do you have a disguise? I didn't bring a disguise. Shit. I didn't plan this well at all. I was just in such a hurry to get down here before it was too late, I wasn't thinking—please tell me you have something, we haven't much time."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-05-2019
Ren was sulking in her room. Gareth had gone home before lunch, despite her all but begging him not to. Well, begging for her, so... threatening, mostly. But he'd left, and she'd gotten locked up. Before lunch. And she wasn't being fed breakfast, or dinner, because of some stupid contraband rule she'd broken, so she wouldn't get to eat a proper meal until lunch tomorrow. Boredom had set in properly. She was lying on her bed with an open book she couldn't read open on her face, trying to cease existing. And then the door slammed open, something which had never happened before. She scrambled wildly, the book flying into the air and thumping loudly onto the ground. Of all the things she thought she might see, the King absolutely wasn't one of them. She thought for a moment she must be hallucinating. The King couldn't possibly standing here, in her windowless, empty cell swarming with rats. But they were, to a one, sounding the predator alarm. She wasn't dreaming.
"Yer... Highness?" she asked, absolutely baffled, her brain briefly lagging behind what he was saying. He wasn't dressed the way he normally was. He almost looked casual, except he was every inch regal beauty, so it didn't quite work.
Was he breaking her out? It sounded like he was breaking her out. But that was stupid. It was his fucking prison. He didn't have to break her out.
"Um," she said, uncertain if she should admit to the King that she had an extensive escape plan and a loose floorboard under the bed. "I... maybe? Wh... what's goin' on? I have, um... Yeah, I have some clothes." And maybe something that could help disguise him better, since he still looked extremely... dragon. Maybe it was just because she knew him. But they would need to do something about his eyes.
She dropped to her knees on the floor, a rat working the mechanism, which was much too small for human hands, and pulling up the floorboard a bit. She slid it the rest of the way up and groped around the limited space before pulling out a bundle of cloth. "I got a few things here that might work for a disguise, dependin'. Are we... are you... are we goin' somewhere?" she settled on finally, spreading some miscellaneous clothing and powders onto the bed.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-05-2019
"Brilliant!" The King was not at all troubled by her secret hoard. He aggressively shushed a rat, finger over his lips. He looked around for the first time. "This room is terrible," he said accusatorily.
"We're going out," he said. He helpfully tousled Ren's hair to get it all into disarray. This was not particularly disguising. He tried to claw it neat instead, but his gloves had covered his claws and so left him pawing at her head instead. "No one can recognize us. No one. Maybe I can put you in a bag and carry you. But, no. Someone would notice if a strange man were carrying you out in a bag. Time is of the essence, Boldheart, or we're going to miss our chance."
He paced wildly, but there were too many rats underfoot. "Ordinarily I would have left by now, but when I realized you were down here—of course you'll have to come with me. It shouldn't be more than an hour's ride, if we take Baby. She isn't as fast as Nighthoof, but obviously we can't take him."
"We're going out," he said. He helpfully tousled Ren's hair to get it all into disarray. This was not particularly disguising. He tried to claw it neat instead, but his gloves had covered his claws and so left him pawing at her head instead. "No one can recognize us. No one. Maybe I can put you in a bag and carry you. But, no. Someone would notice if a strange man were carrying you out in a bag. Time is of the essence, Boldheart, or we're going to miss our chance."
He paced wildly, but there were too many rats underfoot. "Ordinarily I would have left by now, but when I realized you were down here—of course you'll have to come with me. It shouldn't be more than an hour's ride, if we take Baby. She isn't as fast as Nighthoof, but obviously we can't take him."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-05-2019
"Yeah, it's absolute shitty garbage!" Ren agreed, probably a little too aggressively. "You should tell off whoever's prison it is, ah, wait." She really shouldn't be mouthing off to him when he was apparently absolutely breaking her out of his own prison. Or so it seemed, even though that made no sense. All she knew was that if she went with him, she would wind up outside, and from there... Well, she'd figure it out. "Lucky you, I think I got what we need." She shouldn't need to explain why. She was already dressed pretty much just in her underwear, so it was quick and easy to strip down further. It was nothing the King hadn't seen before, a worryingly thin body and a flat chest that was about to be very helpful. She pulled on a tight bra band, then shimmied into some leggings and shoved a rolled up sock into place. A loose tunic went on over top, covered up by a leather vest that covered what little figure was left. In a remarkably short period of time, she was a very short young man.
"I have no idea what yer talkin' about," she informed him. Who was Baby? Who was Nighthoof? What the fuck did he mean RIDE? She didn't know. "But if ya trust me, I think I can help yer disguise." She held up a pressed powder in a small tin and a pair of mirrored round glasses. "These are fer welding, fer people who care more about lookin' good than actually protectin' their damn eyes from sparks, but if yer worried about someone noticin' you got gorgeous inhuman sky blue dragon eyes, they'll proly do the trick. An' this powder should help you look a lil less... white." She reached up to rub some of the incredibly unhelpful dirt from his face. It was a stretch. "I think I'm gonna need to stand on my bed for this."
She jumped up on it, not waiting for him to agree. "I know a few ways outta here. Rats can keep an eye out for guards." She let out a low, quiet whistle, and nudged her head to the door. Rats streamed out in great quantities and spread out. "We should be able t'get outta here without bein' seen, although I got no idea how t'get out the outer wall. Y'can toss me, maybe."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-06-2019
"Even Gareth's room had a window," the King said, ignoring her implication. "Sort of a window. You should have asked for that room, he certainly isn't using it."
He clapped—but quietly—at her boyish disguise. "This should work wonderfully, he'll never recognize you." That was the hardest part after all, not being recognized by Gareth. The fact that he didn't expect them there did half the work, but having to keep a safe distance could be torturous. Though maybe their heights would give them away, as a pair? Better to worry about that when they came to it.
"Ooh." He took the glasses, turning them over to look at them. He could see his own reflection. He was unhelpful as Ren worked to fix his face, making no effort to turn his head in useful ways of his own accord.
"Oh, getting out will be easy, once we're outside. I'll carry you on my back until we're out. You can hide under my cloak. Like a hump! I can pretend to be a hunchback."
He clapped—but quietly—at her boyish disguise. "This should work wonderfully, he'll never recognize you." That was the hardest part after all, not being recognized by Gareth. The fact that he didn't expect them there did half the work, but having to keep a safe distance could be torturous. Though maybe their heights would give them away, as a pair? Better to worry about that when they came to it.
"Ooh." He took the glasses, turning them over to look at them. He could see his own reflection. He was unhelpful as Ren worked to fix his face, making no effort to turn his head in useful ways of his own accord.
"Oh, getting out will be easy, once we're outside. I'll carry you on my back until we're out. You can hide under my cloak. Like a hump! I can pretend to be a hunchback."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-06-2019
Ren stared at the King incredulously, her grip tightening dangerously against the tin. The rats in the compound briefly stilled as a wave of uncontrolled rage rippled through them. For a moment, she had thought him mocking her, which would have been less infuriating than him having no idea. It was. His. Prison. Where his fucking prison slaves were trapped, and he didn't even appear to understand what a prison was. Who had suggested this to him? Grilka? Gareth? He thought it was a boarding school for criminal misfits, perhaps. She took a long, deep breath, and the rats continued their duties, spreading out to every shadowy corner of the compound, covering her planned escape route. This was fine. This was good, in fact. He didn't understand what he was doing. Didn't realize that she'd escape and never come back as soon as she had a second outside the compound. He was taking her somewhere, and in this form, he'd inevitably get distracted, and she could run without him seeing and chasing her. All she had to do was pretend she didn't want to throttle him, and tomorrow Gareth could explain to the King what a fucking prison was.
The thought made her heart clench and her stomach roll with nausea. She shook the feeling off; this was a best case scenario she couldn't have dreamed of. She was the King's prisoner. He couldn't get in trouble for breaking her out. No one would have to get hurt. Gareth would be safe, and no one would have to die.
Another breath steadied her hands as she carefully, lightly, ran powder over the King's face with her fingers. She didn't have a brush, but she'd practiced with it in the mirror. He wasn't helping, just admiring his own reflection but that... seemed about par for the course, with him. It made him look... Well, kind of dusty to be honest, but it hit the pearlescence of his skin and in combination with the glasses, he would at least look like... Well, a rich man's son trying to slum it, thanks to those shoes, but it'd do.
Carefully, she applied some of a different powder to her jawline and cheekbones; the suggestion of stubble, the illusion of a more masculine face. It helped that she was somewhat androgynous to start with.
Quickly, not wanting to waste anymore time, she yanked on her best, tallest boots to add a few desperate inches, and scrambled to reach under the floorboard once more. She grabbed the necessities: a pouch of gold coins she'd pilfered, a rolled up piece of parchment that contained a map of the area she'd drawn from a combination of old political maps in books Gareth had gotten her from the library combined with her own memory of her soaring flight over the landscape with the King. She tucked both quickly into her vest and stood.
She thought to protest the humpback plan, but paused to consider their comparative heights. And he could probably jump or climb the walls easily. He was a fucking dragon. She nodded. "Very smart, yer majesty. C'mon." Not really thinking about it, she grabbed one of his gloved hands. "Stay close, 'n' move when I say to. I'll get us outta here without runnin' into any guards."
It was a tricky thing to do, filled with a few more pauses than he was probably comfortable with, given the hurry he was in, but it was the middle of the afternoon. They couldn't just walk out. Fortunately, once they got past the prisoner's wing, they were more likely to just be taken for any random two member's of the King's Guard on their way to one place or another.
Her rats fed her an updating map of the compound, and she was quiet with the focus of keeping it all straight in her head, a thousand different images to piece together into something coherent so she knew where the danger was. She pulled the King along and pushed him into shadowy corners when necessary--not that she could have done either if he hadn't been so eager to play along. He seemed to grasp the importance of being quick and quiet, and maybe even enjoyed playing prison escape with her, having her body pushed against his much larger one in darkened rooms.
"Here we go. This door is locked, but just..." she waved vaguely at it. "Like y'did with my door. On the other side is gonna be a courtyard, then the wall." This was the back edge, away from the city, away from anything. No stairs or doors to the inside of the outer wall. Useless for escaping, if you weren't planning on piggybacking a dragon to do it. "There's no guards right now, but we're gonna hafta move fast. Lemme climb onto your back, and pray. I'll be close enough to whisper if y'need to hide or go a different way, but we should be good."
She couldn't believe this was fucking happening. She squirreled under the King's cloak and jumped up, reaching around his shoulders. He lifted her up like she weighed nothing, and she adjusted her grip to be tight. It was a very painful strain on her arms and thighs in the position she was in, trying to not look like a person, and giving him use of his arms. But she was so pounding with adrenaline, she could have done anything, despite her starvation-fueled weakness.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-06-2019
Ren was being much sneakier than he usually was. He supposed that was for the best. It didn't matter quite so much when someone in the castle saw him; they'd attribute it to some whim or another, and doubtless keep it to themselves. If they saw him with Ren, though, then surely someone would mention it to Gareth. They'd ask him about it, at the very least, assuming he knew what it was they'd been up to. Then eight years of careful spying would be right down the drain. Unthinkable.
"You know," he murmured in her ear in the shadows, "you'd be a marvelous spy if they trusted you with fieldwork." Oh, Gareth would have a fit if they were sending her into foreign castles like this, but it seemed like she'd have fun. Not everyone hated going out and killing people as much as he did. Most people didn't. Unfortunate, that he was so good at it. He'd been too young for it, that was the trouble. If they'd only let him wait until he was older, he wouldn't be such a terrible homebody now.
He giggled as she climbed onto his back, feeling quite pleased with the whole endeavor. He kicked the door open, wood cracking into splinters and the metal of the locks all bending outward. He took long strides toward the outer wall, crouched, and then jumped. He caught the top of it one-handed, and pulled himself up before dropping down to the outside.
Easy!
Of course, this wasn't where he'd left Baby. He stuck two gloved fingers in his mouth, and let out an ear-splitting whistle like a chickadee the size of a house calling hey-sweetie. Then he waited, rocking on his heels.
They heard the bell clanging first, and then a shaggy white-haired bull trotted around the wall towards them. It was wearing a bell around its neck, and had wildflowers tied into its fur, pinks and blues and yellows. Its ears and nose were black, its eyes not visible through the hair hanging over its face, and its massive horns curled impressively toward the sky.
It was a comically large bull.
"Baby!" Avi said happily, throwing up his arms. The bull butted him gently in the chest, and he gave it noisy kisses before pulling himself up onto its back. He pulled Ren up into his lap so that he could hold her on, lest she go falling off the back of it when they hit full speed. "You might want to shut your eyes," he informed her, grabbing handfuls of fur. "Think of it as riding a train that runs on grass."
Gareth was finishing up the assembly of his trebuchet. They were all too large to be hauled in, and every year someone's ended up snapping or nearly taking their head off. Gareth's was always the largest, the advantage of being able to lift much heavier things than most. It helped that he was so painfully precise. He'd gladly rebuild the whole thing if he thought his ratios might be off.
The carved wooden gargoyles he'd added at the tops of the frame were totally pointless grandstanding, however.
He'd taken his shirt off over an hour ago, and probably wouldn't be putting it back on. Shirtlessness at the fair was almost traditional.
He climbed the legs of the empty trebuchet, and hung off the swing arm to test its motion along the fulcrum, making sure that it would move freely. Then he dropped to the ground.
"Launch me!" Caroline demanded, the elf attempting to climb onto the sling.
"You'd fucking die," he informed her, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. "Climb on my shit again and I'm throwing you into the river."
"Throw me in the river!" she demanded. Instead he tossed her onto a haystack. She collapsed into giggles. He wandered past a cart full of bottles, and picked up a hard cider.
"Hey!" shouted Patrick from the top of a gentle slope. "Your deer's tryin' to gore my horse again." Gareth turned his head, and saw Nighthoof chasing after a worried looking pony, the pure black elk at least three times its size. The velvet had already fallen off his antlers, and Gareth had wrapped wreaths of phlox and heather around them.
"Give him a bucket of cider," Gareth called back with a dismissive wave, unconcerned. Nighthoof was, technically speaking, probably some kind of minor forest deity. Flowers stayed in bloom when he wore them, and the most poisonous ones had a troubling tendency to grow in his hoofprints. Why he agreed to take Gareth to work every day was a mystery. He could usually be plied with alcohol into calming down and taking a nap, but horses seemed to offend him.
A few elves had brought leather drums half their size, and when one started pounding another picked it up without much delay. An elf with a fiddle and another with a guitar joined, followed by a set of pipes, which was approximately when someone grabbed Gareth by the arm and pulled him toward the bit of field that was rapidly become a dance floor. It was Mary who hooked her arm in his first, and he picked up the steps quick enough, though they didn't have the same impact on soft grass that they did on a wooden floor. He supposed that was why they brought the war drums along.
He was still holding his cider, and took a quick swig, switching off hands as Anna grabbed his other arm to steal him away in a counter-rotation. He hadn't quite managed to finish his bottle before Kevin stole it as he passed with another elf he hadn't met. Declan broke good form by not just stealing him from Anna, but taking both his hands so they could dance a line through the middle. He was grinning wide under the force of a pleasant buzz, tossing Declan into the air briefly before Caroline cut in.
Baby ran with his head down like he was charging the sun, hooves digging trails in the ground as he covered more of it than the length of them allowed for. It wasn't quite as good as flying, in Avi's opinion, but it came close. He laughed delightedly, throwing out his hands for a moment before recalling that he was supposed to be holding onto Ren. He nuzzled at her hair, quite pleased with the distance they were covering as the landscape blurred past them.
It took an unbearably long time when flight would have had them there in ten minutes, of course, but so it went. A magical white bull could only do so much.
He stopped Baby short just as soon as the fair came into view in the distance, great towering contraptions and wagons and tents. And haystacks, of course. Always plenty of haystacks. If Gareth saw Baby, the whole game would be up, so of course he couldn't allow that. If Baby got close enough, he'd start trying to play with Nighthoof, besides. Baby's hooves dug into the dirt as he came to a stop, practically skidding.
"Go play in a field," he instructed the bull, sliding off his back. He pulled Ren down impatiently, forgetting that such a hard ride might have had an impact on her legs. "No playing with Nighty," he scolded Baby, before all but carrying Ren toward the fair in long strides.
"They're starting," he said with a touch of annoyance as he heard the first thump of a drum. He picked Ren up entirely, running outright to the edge of the gathering and jumping too high to land at the top of a haystack. He thumped both of them down into the top of it, sinking slightly into the scratchy hay. "Oh, good." He started clapping gleefully before doing so in time with the drums, lifting up his glasses to see better and ignoring his disguise. "I was worried we'd have to look for him, but of course he's right there."
"You know," he murmured in her ear in the shadows, "you'd be a marvelous spy if they trusted you with fieldwork." Oh, Gareth would have a fit if they were sending her into foreign castles like this, but it seemed like she'd have fun. Not everyone hated going out and killing people as much as he did. Most people didn't. Unfortunate, that he was so good at it. He'd been too young for it, that was the trouble. If they'd only let him wait until he was older, he wouldn't be such a terrible homebody now.
He giggled as she climbed onto his back, feeling quite pleased with the whole endeavor. He kicked the door open, wood cracking into splinters and the metal of the locks all bending outward. He took long strides toward the outer wall, crouched, and then jumped. He caught the top of it one-handed, and pulled himself up before dropping down to the outside.
Easy!
Of course, this wasn't where he'd left Baby. He stuck two gloved fingers in his mouth, and let out an ear-splitting whistle like a chickadee the size of a house calling hey-sweetie. Then he waited, rocking on his heels.
They heard the bell clanging first, and then a shaggy white-haired bull trotted around the wall towards them. It was wearing a bell around its neck, and had wildflowers tied into its fur, pinks and blues and yellows. Its ears and nose were black, its eyes not visible through the hair hanging over its face, and its massive horns curled impressively toward the sky.
It was a comically large bull.
"Baby!" Avi said happily, throwing up his arms. The bull butted him gently in the chest, and he gave it noisy kisses before pulling himself up onto its back. He pulled Ren up into his lap so that he could hold her on, lest she go falling off the back of it when they hit full speed. "You might want to shut your eyes," he informed her, grabbing handfuls of fur. "Think of it as riding a train that runs on grass."
Gareth was finishing up the assembly of his trebuchet. They were all too large to be hauled in, and every year someone's ended up snapping or nearly taking their head off. Gareth's was always the largest, the advantage of being able to lift much heavier things than most. It helped that he was so painfully precise. He'd gladly rebuild the whole thing if he thought his ratios might be off.The carved wooden gargoyles he'd added at the tops of the frame were totally pointless grandstanding, however.
He'd taken his shirt off over an hour ago, and probably wouldn't be putting it back on. Shirtlessness at the fair was almost traditional.
He climbed the legs of the empty trebuchet, and hung off the swing arm to test its motion along the fulcrum, making sure that it would move freely. Then he dropped to the ground.
"Launch me!" Caroline demanded, the elf attempting to climb onto the sling.
"You'd fucking die," he informed her, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. "Climb on my shit again and I'm throwing you into the river."
"Throw me in the river!" she demanded. Instead he tossed her onto a haystack. She collapsed into giggles. He wandered past a cart full of bottles, and picked up a hard cider.
"Hey!" shouted Patrick from the top of a gentle slope. "Your deer's tryin' to gore my horse again." Gareth turned his head, and saw Nighthoof chasing after a worried looking pony, the pure black elk at least three times its size. The velvet had already fallen off his antlers, and Gareth had wrapped wreaths of phlox and heather around them.
"Give him a bucket of cider," Gareth called back with a dismissive wave, unconcerned. Nighthoof was, technically speaking, probably some kind of minor forest deity. Flowers stayed in bloom when he wore them, and the most poisonous ones had a troubling tendency to grow in his hoofprints. Why he agreed to take Gareth to work every day was a mystery. He could usually be plied with alcohol into calming down and taking a nap, but horses seemed to offend him.
A few elves had brought leather drums half their size, and when one started pounding another picked it up without much delay. An elf with a fiddle and another with a guitar joined, followed by a set of pipes, which was approximately when someone grabbed Gareth by the arm and pulled him toward the bit of field that was rapidly become a dance floor. It was Mary who hooked her arm in his first, and he picked up the steps quick enough, though they didn't have the same impact on soft grass that they did on a wooden floor. He supposed that was why they brought the war drums along.
He was still holding his cider, and took a quick swig, switching off hands as Anna grabbed his other arm to steal him away in a counter-rotation. He hadn't quite managed to finish his bottle before Kevin stole it as he passed with another elf he hadn't met. Declan broke good form by not just stealing him from Anna, but taking both his hands so they could dance a line through the middle. He was grinning wide under the force of a pleasant buzz, tossing Declan into the air briefly before Caroline cut in.
Baby ran with his head down like he was charging the sun, hooves digging trails in the ground as he covered more of it than the length of them allowed for. It wasn't quite as good as flying, in Avi's opinion, but it came close. He laughed delightedly, throwing out his hands for a moment before recalling that he was supposed to be holding onto Ren. He nuzzled at her hair, quite pleased with the distance they were covering as the landscape blurred past them.
It took an unbearably long time when flight would have had them there in ten minutes, of course, but so it went. A magical white bull could only do so much.
He stopped Baby short just as soon as the fair came into view in the distance, great towering contraptions and wagons and tents. And haystacks, of course. Always plenty of haystacks. If Gareth saw Baby, the whole game would be up, so of course he couldn't allow that. If Baby got close enough, he'd start trying to play with Nighthoof, besides. Baby's hooves dug into the dirt as he came to a stop, practically skidding.
"Go play in a field," he instructed the bull, sliding off his back. He pulled Ren down impatiently, forgetting that such a hard ride might have had an impact on her legs. "No playing with Nighty," he scolded Baby, before all but carrying Ren toward the fair in long strides.
"They're starting," he said with a touch of annoyance as he heard the first thump of a drum. He picked Ren up entirely, running outright to the edge of the gathering and jumping too high to land at the top of a haystack. He thumped both of them down into the top of it, sinking slightly into the scratchy hay. "Oh, good." He started clapping gleefully before doing so in time with the drums, lifting up his glasses to see better and ignoring his disguise. "I was worried we'd have to look for him, but of course he's right there."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-06-2019
She would be a good spy. She'd never actually thought about it, and flushed when the King suggested it for a variety of reasons. She was bad at getting compliments and worse at being pushed up against a man in the dark, a man who was much stronger than her but was nonetheless letting her lead him around. She wondered if, pressed this close together, his lips pressed against her ear, he could decipher the hitch in her breath as anything other than arousal, or the pounding of her heart as anything other than the thrill of the escape. He was fortunately distracted quickly and easily, because she suspected that if he said that to her again, if he pried his claws into her shameful need for praise and told her how good and helpful she could be to him, he might just wind up with a spy after all. Frankly, if he'd offered before she'd been trapped in his prison for most of a year, she would have said yes in a heartbeat. Shame no one found any value in her when she was free.
The King did, in fact, jump effortlessly up the wall. Ren was glad she couldn't see, her arms straining painfully as she held on for dear life. Then they were on the outside, and she dropped off of him, rubbing her arms and wincing while he let out an ear-shattering whistle that kind of destroyed the whole "quiet, secret" thing.
She looked back at the walls, her heart pounding so hard that it felt like it was in her throat. Now that this was happening, she didn't know if she felt ready. She had known she wouldn't get to say goodbye to Gareth, but wished she could have at least left a note or something. Their last words were going to be fighting, her devastated at his half-day and him not understanding why. He was definitely going to blame himself, unless the King told him that she'd escaped because he'd stolen her for... whatever. Some sort of Kingly quest. She should probably stick around long enough to find out, at the very least.
While she'd been lost in her thoughts and sending frantic, last-minute instructions to the rats, notes to Phoebe to have everyone go to ground in the wake of Ren's disappearance, the King had summoned a...
Cow...
Nothing said 'you live in a magical fuckin' world' like the King having a pet cow that was probably magical, and riding it. While sh ewa still stunned at the realities of "giant cow with a ribbon and a bell," the King yanked her up onto its back by the back of her vest. There was no saddle up here, just a lot of cow that she was far too small to properly straddle. She was basically just doing a split. The King kept his arms locked around her, which was appreciated just as soon as it took off--and take off it did.
Bridget Corey was not one for parties. She was invited to few, mostly by the King, and she rarely ever accepted. His sort of party wasn't necessarily hers, and definitely didn't leave any room for the dignified image of the Royal Librarian. But the fair was different. For one, the only person from the castle who was ever there was Gareth, and they had a long-standing agreement to never discuss it. They were barely even friends, by Bridget's count--everyone loved Gareth, so he probably had very high standards for friendship--except for this one day of the year. It was partially because they were the only two castle workers there, and partially because she was the only one at the whole entire fair who could ever be counted on to carry him if he got too drunk to walk. And vice-versa, frankly, depending on what form she passed out in. It was a coin's toss every year.
She was lounging on a hay bale, watching Cousin Caroline flirt. Bridget was always a bit envious of the freeness with which the elves--and frankly most of her family--flirted, but she never had a talent for it and didn't have the boldness unless she was drunk. And it took a lot to get her drunk, which was why she was steadily drinking from a gallon jug of apple moonshine. The taste was abhorrent, but she was taking it like medicine.
The fair was starting in earnest now, drums and dancing and fiddles and the thud of boots on the ground. She breathed it in, not quite enough liquid courage in her to dive in yet. It sounded like family, family she rarely got to see with her work keeping her so busy, and there was a crisp taste in the air of fall harvests and the joy of the coming winter.
"C'mon, Auntie Bree, can't be a wallflower all night!" teased Lil Brother Cliff, reaching out to tug at her hand. "Join the dance!"
"You know I need at least two jugs of moonshine before I can dance worth shit, Cliff," Bridget said with a good natured roll of her eyes, letting him pull her to her feet.
"You can chase booze an' pumpkins later, c'mon!" he all but dragged her onto the impromptu dance floor. "Y'gotta be in the first dance!"
Ren was tense and terrified and intermittently whooping with shared delight as the definitely magic bull fairly flied across the countryside. She was making time like she never would have been able to alone. God only knew where the King would land her, and from there, how easy it would be to slip away after something other than her distracted him. For now, the way he held her and laughed into her hair made her heart feel as warm and full as when he suggested she might, in another life, have been a royal spy and not street trash pulled from his shoes. They arrived all too soon and after far too long doing a full split on top of a very fast moving Bull. The King pulled her off the same way he'd pulled her own, as if she were baggage he'd packed for the ride. Her legs shook, and he was still in a hurry, so the King practically lifted her again, draggin her towards the sight of tents, wagons, and what looked like they might have been wooden cranes of some sort.
Ren had never seen an elven fair before, and had no idea what was happening. The King picked her up to leap into a haystack, and from there, she saw it all. Elven wagons in a great arc, giant tents of treated cloth and leather, what appeared for all the world to be trebuchets. A smell of hot food wafted across the field, fried dough and meat and popped corn kernals and so much yak butter. Her stomach growled audibly, but at least her eyes could feast.
It didn't take long for them to find someone eight feet tall and red in a crowd of bouncing, dancing bodies.
"Is that Gareth?!" she exclaimed, not quite shouting. She would have been upset that the King had dragged her across Aeris on a magical bull just to land her directly where her boss was, if the sight wasn't so bewildering and enchanting. "He's shirtless. And dancing. He dances?!" she demanded, astonished. It was like she was seeing someone else wearing Gareth's skin.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-06-2019
"He does," the King said, quite pleased to have what seemed to him to be confirmation that this was wonderful. He nudged her hair with his nose. "This is what he's like when he's not busy fussing over us," he said. "If he sees us, it'll ruin the whole thing, of course." He paused. "Not that he's the only interesting one here. It's a very good revel. But you can see why I don't…" He gestured with both hands at the various crowds, the dancers on the ground. "Announce myself," he said. He pointed at the tallest of the trebuchets. "Look, see, that one's his. You can tell because it's the biggest, and the gargoyles. He carves them himself." He seemed quite proud of this, as if it reflected on him. "I have a few of his unicorns in the vault," he said, more smug than he was about the actual unicorn. He was under the impression that she would recognize exactly how impressive this was, and congratulate him accordingly.
He watched Gareth sliding and twirling between dancers, his smile and his laughter infectious. "You can see why everyone loves him," he said. "This is what heroes used to do, you know. Not those horrible dour men you have now, the ones I keep eating. Godfrey the Kind, there were whole ballads just about how well he could kiss and the things he could do with his hips. The Knight of the Woods could drink you under the table and you'd thank him for it. They were always saving people because they were nice, and the villagers trusted them."
Avi was always a little offended that Gareth didn't wear the horn ring he'd given him to these things. To most things. He understood it, but that didn't mean he liked it. One would never know to look at him here who he belonged to.
"Cuz!" Mary shouted, jumping onto Gareth's arm and clinging with her bare feet off the ground. "The thing, the thing!" She spun her fingers around each other in a gesture she assumed he'd interpret. He dropped her to the grass and put his hands on her waist to toss her upward with a twirl. He caught the ball of her foot on his palm, and managed to hold her steady enough that she could pirouette at increasing speeds, her skirt flaring out above his head as he lifted her higher.
His eyes wandered past the dancers that surrounded them just long enough to find Bree getting dragged off the hay. He gave her a shit-eating grin, his tongue touching his fangs, and gave her an equally shit-eating nod with his chin. It wasn't quite a dare, but it was almost a dare.
It wasn't that things devolved into various competing tests of strength every year. It was only that they usually did.
"You dancin', Auntie?" he called out, throwing his hand suddenly higher and dropping it to toss Mary spinning into the air. He caught her, let her swing all the way down and between his legs before swinging her back up before a final landing. Mary nearly fell over before Anna caught her to run her romping in a circle.
He watched Gareth sliding and twirling between dancers, his smile and his laughter infectious. "You can see why everyone loves him," he said. "This is what heroes used to do, you know. Not those horrible dour men you have now, the ones I keep eating. Godfrey the Kind, there were whole ballads just about how well he could kiss and the things he could do with his hips. The Knight of the Woods could drink you under the table and you'd thank him for it. They were always saving people because they were nice, and the villagers trusted them."
Avi was always a little offended that Gareth didn't wear the horn ring he'd given him to these things. To most things. He understood it, but that didn't mean he liked it. One would never know to look at him here who he belonged to.
"Cuz!" Mary shouted, jumping onto Gareth's arm and clinging with her bare feet off the ground. "The thing, the thing!" She spun her fingers around each other in a gesture she assumed he'd interpret. He dropped her to the grass and put his hands on her waist to toss her upward with a twirl. He caught the ball of her foot on his palm, and managed to hold her steady enough that she could pirouette at increasing speeds, her skirt flaring out above his head as he lifted her higher.His eyes wandered past the dancers that surrounded them just long enough to find Bree getting dragged off the hay. He gave her a shit-eating grin, his tongue touching his fangs, and gave her an equally shit-eating nod with his chin. It wasn't quite a dare, but it was almost a dare.
It wasn't that things devolved into various competing tests of strength every year. It was only that they usually did.
"You dancin', Auntie?" he called out, throwing his hand suddenly higher and dropping it to toss Mary spinning into the air. He caught her, let her swing all the way down and between his legs before swinging her back up before a final landing. Mary nearly fell over before Anna caught her to run her romping in a circle.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-06-2019
Ren stared in open awe at... just... everything. The scene was beyond what she could have imagined, and far beyond anything she'd ever seen before. She'd never seen Gareth look like this. Happy. She thought back to his cabin in the woods, gardens and flowers and chickens and a goat with a great big bow, and swallowed. No wonder he hadn't wanted her there. She'd ruined it just by being there, with Byron, and she was worried she'd ruin this just by watching. She leaned back against the King, letting him wrap his arms around her and nuzzle into her hair, hoping they'd look like a pair of neckers to anyone who happened to glance up. "You're right," she agreed seriously. "He can't see us." Not least of all because tomorrow, he'd wake up to her gone and a very shitty day at work. But after that shitty day, there would be better ones, ones more like this and less like the ones she gave him.
Her eyes traced over the trebuchets, awe and jealousy. Was this how the elves lived? She was an idiot for turning it down; she knew that now more than ever. "That's incredible," she said, timed so the King might think her talking about the carvings in his fault, although to be true she was jealous of those too. She had nothing of his and nothing of the King's and nothing of hers. It would be like she was never here.
She could absolutely see why everyone loved him, and it was with dawning horror that she realized she was someone. The sensation made her breath catch in her throat, watching as he tossed an elven woman in the air and laughed.
"If I lived to be a hundred," she told the King, knowing she certainly wouldn't. "I'd never understand what he's doin' in a prison dealin' with idiots like me."
Bridget rolled her eyes at Gareth, grinning despite herself. She could understand Mary's joy of being tossed. Everyone loved to fly, and she'd been on the receiving end of more than her fare share of throws. Sometimes he'd grab her legs and spin, building up speed because they both knew she'd survive. It was whatever she hit that'd be destroyed. "Like there's any other choice," Bridget joked, laughing. At the fair, you danced til you couldn't breathe and ate til you couldn't stomach another bite and then drank more on top of it. It was pure excess, and there was nothing like it. She'd never understand how other people got through the year without it.
Cliff bounced against her, and her feet were already moving. They probably had been the whole time. Who could hold still?
"Today, Sir Gareth," she said cheerfully, with a challenging grin right back at him. "I'm gonna dance you under the table, drink you under the table, and wrestle you under the table, and one or both of us is gettin' tossed into the river." It would be her. It was always her, and it was normally because she'd tried to crawl into his trebuchet. In truth, he could dance better and she could drink better and the wrestling was a toss up every year, which was why they did it.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-06-2019
"Oh, it isn't supposed to be a prison, really," the King said, only half paying attention to her. "Not the way it was. It's very important to him, that it not be what it was. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it, Grilka's a terrible gossip. It's the only reason I know anything about it. He doesn't like to talk about it, Leopold and all that." The subject made him frown, so he changed it by tousling Ren's hair obnoxiously. "He likes to save people, our Gareth."
"Oh, under the table?" Gareth caught Bridget's hands as he swept her up into a spin, pulling her through the middle of the circle and then around it, legs all a-gallup through the grass. He spun her up into the air so that her feet landed on an almost-empty table—emptied as the elf sitting at it scrambled to knock his baskets to the ground and safety. Gareth picked the entire table up with Bree on top of it.
"How's your footwork?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows, before he lifted the table too high to be able to see her, holding two of its legs on his shoulders. Her balance was good enough that he thought he could get away with a wide twirl or two as he carried her around, elves in skirts all spinning around him. He did a full round before he carefully lowered the table to drop it back where he'd been, ready for Bridget to leapfrog off his shoulders just as soon as she was low enough.
"Oh, under the table?" Gareth caught Bridget's hands as he swept her up into a spin, pulling her through the middle of the circle and then around it, legs all a-gallup through the grass. He spun her up into the air so that her feet landed on an almost-empty table—emptied as the elf sitting at it scrambled to knock his baskets to the ground and safety. Gareth picked the entire table up with Bree on top of it."How's your footwork?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows, before he lifted the table too high to be able to see her, holding two of its legs on his shoulders. Her balance was good enough that he thought he could get away with a wide twirl or two as he carried her around, elves in skirts all spinning around him. He did a full round before he carefully lowered the table to drop it back where he'd been, ready for Bridget to leapfrog off his shoulders just as soon as she was low enough.
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-06-2019
"Beg to differ," she muttered under her breath. That thing was a prison. It was more than a little infuriating to hear anyone insinuate differently, but both the King and Gareth always seemed she ought to be happy to be there. "Grilka and I don't talk," Ren said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. "One o' eir snakes killed one o' my rats. A special one." She had felt it. "I killed it back, and Grilka took strong exception." She was probably lucky to be alive, but the whole situation hadn't done anything to engender trust and affection in either direction.
She didn't want to think about Grilka, and she didn't want to think about prison and she didn't want to even think about Gareth, but found she couldn't help it. He was lifting an entire table with a dancing woman on top of it now.
Gareth was assigned all the worst cases. Like her, declared all but hopeless by the King. Hopeless, despite the little tastes of hope he kept taunting her with, telling her she could have been a spy, taking her on field trips to see the mountains or the woods or who Gareth was when he wasn't around her.
The reason she hadn't hung was that Gareth refused to let her, but she knew better, and the rest of the King's Guard knew better, and she only had until the King knew better, or tired of his games. He tousled her hair--he seemed to like doing that--and she disliked how good it felt, but leaned into it anyway.
"I think it's against the law if ya drag me out here and don't feed me," Ren said, mostly because she wanted to change the subject too, but also because from here she could see someone dipping what looked like entire turkey legs, battered, into hot oil. "I worked hard on yer disguise. We can mingle if Gareth don't see us."
Bridget laughed as Gareth spun her under a table, louder as he picked it up. She danced from one side of it to the other, feet shuffling and kicking; she even jumped. She knew he would hold it steady regardless. She was strong, but compared to him, she weighed barely anything. This was the Gareth she knew outside of the halls of the castle, fun and careless and the type to hold up a table for her to dance on because they both knew there was no other way she would be dancing him under one. She would make it up for him later by making a loud noise when she climbed into his trebuchet, so he would be sure to find her and not accidentally launch her into the sky. Back in the castle, they'd both be serious, and neither would ask why. It was a great system, really.
Gareth spun one direction beneath her and Bridget spun the other, creating a little tower of conflicting turns. It was a great deal of fun, and she was enjoyably dizzy from that and the alcohol when he began to lower the table. Gleefully, she jumped onto his shoulders just as he suspected she would, but rather than leapfrog off, she stayed, wrapping strong legs against his chest. She kept her arms in the air, showing off and also making sure not to touch his horns, same way he'd never grab her by the tail.
"Maybe I'll stay up here the whole fair," she announced playfully. "Best seat, and second most popular," she reached around to boop his nose as she said this, because she too listened to gossip. "Or maybe third?"
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - Tindome - 11-06-2019
The King shrugged. "I take their word for it," he said. "I never saw it, before."
"Oh, but I thought you two would get along so well," he said, surprised. "I found em in the dungeon, you know." He was also, in fact, a terrible gossip. "Maybe you have too much in common," he suggested. "I've heard that can happen. I've never seen it, because there's no one like me."
"The food is wonderful! It's for everyone, you know, they just do it to show off. I'll leave them a cow later to be fair, don't worry. Not Baby. An eating cow." He put the glasses back over his eyes, flipping the hood of his cloak up.
Very subtle.
He grabbed Ren by the hand, and scootched nearer to the edge of the enormous stack of hay until they both started sliding down the front of it. He brushed himself off once they hit the ground. He was briefly distracted, nearly pouncing onto a woman with cleavage both impressive and precarious. They were usually surprisingly open to being pounced on, here. It helped that he was very pretty. But he remembered himself, and grabbed Ren's hand again to pull her toward the turkey legs.
"Hello!" he said brightly.
"Two?" asked the elf behind the cart.
"Yes, please!"
"Haven't seen you around," he said, handing off the enormous hunks of fried meat, the bones wrapped in paper for a handle.
"We're traveling adventurers," the King said with a knowing nod.
"Aaah—I've got a cousin who does that."
"Neat!"
Gareth laughed, carrying her in the direction of a woman making fairy floss. "Second," he confirmed. "It's less intimidating than the other one. But how many young lovers have you chased out of the King's library this year, Auntie, and how many were the King?"
She was uniquely suited to working in the library, really, when what it needed most of all was a bouncer. What was it about books?
He grabbed a stick of fluffy blue sugar. "Hey, weird question: do you know a Grandpa Buck? Or someone who might get misheard as Grandpa Buck? Shit, that's a fraught question. I really hope his name is Grandpa Buck, or this is gonna get awkward."
"Oh, but I thought you two would get along so well," he said, surprised. "I found em in the dungeon, you know." He was also, in fact, a terrible gossip. "Maybe you have too much in common," he suggested. "I've heard that can happen. I've never seen it, because there's no one like me."
"The food is wonderful! It's for everyone, you know, they just do it to show off. I'll leave them a cow later to be fair, don't worry. Not Baby. An eating cow." He put the glasses back over his eyes, flipping the hood of his cloak up.
Very subtle.
He grabbed Ren by the hand, and scootched nearer to the edge of the enormous stack of hay until they both started sliding down the front of it. He brushed himself off once they hit the ground. He was briefly distracted, nearly pouncing onto a woman with cleavage both impressive and precarious. They were usually surprisingly open to being pounced on, here. It helped that he was very pretty. But he remembered himself, and grabbed Ren's hand again to pull her toward the turkey legs.
"Hello!" he said brightly.
"Two?" asked the elf behind the cart.
"Yes, please!"
"Haven't seen you around," he said, handing off the enormous hunks of fried meat, the bones wrapped in paper for a handle.
"We're traveling adventurers," the King said with a knowing nod.
"Aaah—I've got a cousin who does that."
"Neat!"
Gareth laughed, carrying her in the direction of a woman making fairy floss. "Second," he confirmed. "It's less intimidating than the other one. But how many young lovers have you chased out of the King's library this year, Auntie, and how many were the King?"She was uniquely suited to working in the library, really, when what it needed most of all was a bouncer. What was it about books?
He grabbed a stick of fluffy blue sugar. "Hey, weird question: do you know a Grandpa Buck? Or someone who might get misheard as Grandpa Buck? Shit, that's a fraught question. I really hope his name is Grandpa Buck, or this is gonna get awkward."
RE: Beg Off [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-06-2019
"Grilka was in the dungeon?" Ren asked, surprised. They paused, considering. "Actually, I've thought abou' it and decided I ain't actually surprised at all. Still, y'think ey'd be a bit more sympathetic," Ren complained. "I tell ya what, yer majesty, the more I learn about you people, th' less sense anything makes." The King looked incredibly unsubtle with his costume all the way on, but honestly, he'd look even less subtle if they could tell he was an unearthly beautiful porcelain white man with blue, slitted eyes, so. Y'know. Take what you can get. She slid down the hay hand in hand with the King, and thought she could pretend they were normal. Well. Normal-ish. She could pretend and have a wonderful last day in Aeris and wait for him to get distracted, like he very nearly had with Tits McGee there, not that she could particularly blame him. This was a distraction minefield, and he was susceptible. Eventually, a squirrel or a naked woman would run by.
He grabbed her hand again to pull her through the crowd, and she laced her fingers with his and hoped he wouldn't notice that she'd done it. She wasn't sure she'd ever held hands like this before. If she had, it had been well over a decade ago, with hands much smaller than she had now.
She reached out eagerly for the turkey wing, bouncing up and down and looking about ready to swallow it whole. Another elf in the cart, a woman, leaned forward onto the sill, smiling down at her. Ren was already biting into the turkey leg. It was crunchy and crispy and oily and so hot that she burned her lips and didn't care. She sucked in air as she ate, swallowing before it could burn her more and relishing in the steam coming off of the inside of the meat.
"Aren't you a lil small t'be an adventurer, lil guy?" the elf asked. "What are ya, fifteen?"
"I'm twenny," Ren informed the woman, voice dropped an octave and mouth full of another bite of turkey. "An' I'm a very powerful wizard."
"Aww, listen t' that accent! Y'got a lil elf in ya?" the woman asked.
"No, er, uh... Not to my knowledge, anyway," Ren admitted. She didn't think so. Her ears were very round.
"D'ya want a lil elf in ya?" she asked, grinning broadly. Ren flushed darker, scootching over to cling to the King's side, as if she might hide behind him. The woman laughed loudly. "Cute!"
"Makes sense," she reasoned. "You stick your tongue out enough." She settled in, leaning comfortably against his head, horns against her ribs. She tangled one hand idly in his hair, because it was the fair and she was already kind of drunk. "Clouds, so many," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "Like I can't fuckin' smell 'em the second their juices start flowing. You'd think they'd learn. The King's the worst, though, because if you find him at it all he does is try and drag you in." She never knew what to do with the King's attention when she was SUPPOSED to be doing the job HE gave her, so mostly she did everything up to and including chasing him off with a broom. It had worked right up until he snapped the broom in two one day, and then she hadn't gotten any more work done the whole damn day.
She reached down to pull a piece of his spun sugar off, despite the fact that she could have just as easily grabbed her own. Her stomach turned with too many sweets, though, and she already knew she was going to be sick tomorrow. She shoved it into her mouth and let it melt on her tongue, her tail fwapping idly across his back as it started to wag in slow arcs.
"Not all elves know each other, Gareth," she said sarcastically. "That's racist." She sucked sugar off her fingers. "But yeah, actually, I know a Grandpa Buck. He's my uncle. Well, great-great-great-great-etc." Her elven blood was so thin to be nonexistent, but her Uncle--technically ultimate grandfather--still lived with the family on their farm. "Uncle Corey's cousin technically I think, maybe through marriage, but you know how things get fucking confusing as shit. Dunno if he's the one you're looking for, but I think he's actually here today. Somewhere."