Silk ropes |Tam + Danzo|
Tamara was sitting at a table and she was looking at some photographs. Recently, she had been interested in shibari: it was a marvelous art that had infinite possibilities. The way that a skilled master would intertwine the ropes could create almost everything. She was fascinated by it and she couldn’t keep herself back, she had to take a picture. She made sure to leave faces out of her photographs, concentrating on some particularly complicated knots that were tied by the master, to create a beautiful pattern on the slave’s skin. The effect was simply beautiful. She reached for her cup of coffee and took a sip, picking up another picture, this time focused on the hands of the master: they were sliding over the ropes. She was very proud of that picture. She put it down, raised her eyes and suddenly she captured a face. She stopped. She looked down searching for one particular photograph where she had captured a profile. It was him. She looked down again, making sure it was him. It was! The man who had just stepped inside was the one who had realized that masterpiece. Tamara thought she had to talk to him. She needed to. She quickly collected all the pictures and picked her bag up and she shyly walked toward him. Gently she touched his shoulder and when he turned around she smiled. “I’m s-sorry to b-bother you.. But several weeks ago I saw an exhibition.. with shibari..” She took one of the pictures out of her bag, one of the most beautiful, his hands were handling the ropes, close to the slave’s neck. “It’s you.. isn’t it? You’re t-the one who d-did t-this? You left me.. s-speechless. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you could make such beautiful art with ropes.. Do you think I can offer you a coffee?”
@rd-crowned-crane
Danzō remembered that evening well. People did not often see the shifter engage with the slaves on this island and when they did, it was usually for them to perform basic chores. Rumour had it that the slaves had it easy when they were with him or that they at least would not have to fear any sexual tyranny from him. Such rumours were usually quashed when they met him during these carefully selected, public events. In truth, there was little Danzō did that was unintentional.
When Danzō entered the bar, he was looking for nobody. Yet it would always be that someone or something found him. Was it the girl who approached him first or had he selected this seat knowing that she would recognize him even if only by his work? He would argue the former but his family – and he was no exception – wore their pride like a suit of armour.
The shifter had not yet turned towards her, though her words brought a faint smile upon his features. He had been correct. And he hummed pleasantly before he rewarded her boldness with his attention. Delicious. “Is that why you did not speak to me then; on that day?” Despite the many years spent away from home, his accent only seemed to grow thicker. His gaze, now on her, remained conservative, polite almost. “I don’t remember seeing many photographers – none so skilled; but I’m flattered you liked my display” The slave, of course, had not joined the event willingly. “I would like to take you up on that coffee, Miss…? If in turn, I can find out more about you also”
