sehkirus waters

BED MAESTER;; PRIESTESS | JHALAEN "Your familiar with the maesters. I am but one aspect. I just found perfection in pleasure." 18+ CLOSED TO DRACOIGNIS RPG

[sehkirus]

Bastard child of a seafarer. Adrift. Offering of a Prostitute. Sensuality. Some riddles never find solution as the components to the challenges have all seemed to ... wither. Sehkirus was born into servitude. While Westeros tends to gaze down upon whores, they were honored to serve their Gods; new and old. Not all Maesters tend to the Throne. And some magic isn't driven in blood or revenge. Priestess. Priapic.

[ oscar isaac, queer, demi male + he/him/they] sehkirus waters of chataya's brothel has entered the fray! having survived thirty-two summers, they have proven themselves to be a valuable asset to their house. they are known for being methodical & meticulous, but also known to be ravenous & reticent. when thinking of them, one can picture the otherworldly euphoria intoxicating mind, body, & spirit. [...]

[sehkirus]

`✦ Playfulness ⊹ Sheepishly, Sehkirus wanted to lie. Taunt the strange man in a way that he was sure he hadn't received in a long time - if at all. Sehkirus knew their nature and how dangerous straddling these lines could prove. Yet, there was no offer and no acceptance. He was sure the other wasn't pursuing them in that manner, so his dignity was safe from being surrendered and succumbed to the divinity within them. Though, Sehkirus wasn't quite if they weren't curious as to the secrets that lingered beneath the man's surface. Secrets tangibly tethered or without physicality. They could feel the other's burdens as he thought of them. With a single breath in, they would consume every overwhelming notion that toyed with awareness and would exhale as if dispelling every single one. It was loud enough for Criston to hear. Feel. Shamelessly, the span of his chest expanded. As if threatening the integrity of their robes and the pin that kept them upon their single shoulder.

"Sehkirus." Simple. The softness of their name drew air over the tongue with the compression at the top of the throat. The trill off the tip was as if a gentle hymn to one god or another. They looked over at the man as they pointed toward the cobble that softened with a curve. "The docks, first. Maybe the laborers will make you a little more comfortable with the sound of hammers and shipwork. Then up a canal to see tapestry and listen to the singing." Sehkirus softly laughed. His eyes now focused before him. He was no royal figure, but the pride of the Priestess kept his head held high. "You carry yourself like a knight. Perhaps someone of acclaim. Strength. Yet, you've strayed far from the curiosities that kept both eyes open?" He immediately interjected to keep him from agreeing or disagreeing with the claim. "I don't care of what or where. You keep your secrets. You may wield your might to protect, but at this moment, I'm the shield. Allow my priesthood to serve. Consider it a favor from The Nigh."

[legendsvng]

　　sehkirus, the knight mouthed as to not forget. not that he could forget it any time soon, the allure of the stranger enticing criston into giving the plump a second bite. one more generous than the last, just then realising how hungry he was. this person had just come across him, and a single act of kindness was enough to keep the knight wrapped around their finger. but how could it be? did they know more than they let on? or was it just their inherent beauty, and that soothing aura that they effortlessly exuded.

　　criston should not be considering an escapade to the docks and up a canal, he should be obeying the orders aegon gave him. find out whatever was happening to the realm that the targaryens once dominated. why were lions and stags standing where the dragons once ruled? criston was furious, ready to take whoever he needed to in order to bring order back to the seven kingdoms.

　　but for that moment, the knight let go of his confusion and rage. he did not even realise when he finished the fruit, its aftertaste lingering on his tongue as his lips suckled on the wet fingers it left behind. "the nigh." he finally spoke up again, eyes narrow in curiosity. "you will understand it is not customary to take favors from strangers. but i have eaten your fruit and i stand in health." his hand reached out, open for the priestess to take if so they willed. "show me your way then. you hold the answers i am seeking."

[sehkirus]

`✦ Gently ⊹ Sehkirus was cautious to keep the stranger's temper at bay. They didn't want to misguide or mislead. Their intentions were pure. Honest. The Priestess gently tucked their head and orients in a direction that smelled awfully potent of salt and ash. A settlement of dust. The noise was a lovely distraction from their own thoughts, as it granted a moment of clarity that was vastly different from his divine gifts. They smiled as their face was obscured by the forward gaze and determination of each step. True to nature, there was a subtle bounce to his procession. Grace and enchantment as the olive skin that peeked through the softened pleating and folds of his robe. For a moment, they neglected to care if the other bathed Criston's gaze with their visage. For Sehkirus, it was honor.

"By what meaning do you say favors? You've eaten a fruit I was instructed to give. Thus, that was yours the moment the tree sprouted. Divine purpose." Sehkirus looked over at him. There was something different in their gaze. Far less distant. Unusual. Their tone grew familiar and the feeling they gave was far more comfortable. As if Sehkirus looked inside of him. Heavy. Devouring. "If you had eaten my fruit, you would have experienced something far greater than just 'health'." Sehkirus turned away, gesturing toward the breaching wooden planks that led them to the shipyard. "I am not sure whether I hold the answers if you have yet to ask." A deep breath was taken. "What puzzles you?"

[legendsvng]

　　the gloved hand brought the ripe fruit closer to himself. hoovering its plump goodness right underneath his nose, taking the sent with a soft sigh. lips parted, ears and eyes remaining focused on the kind stranger whom had offered the gift to the knight. their voice was soothing, enticing criston to hush and listen - an achievement in itself, considering the amount of questions and demands the lord commander had. and yet, he could almost dismiss the dire circumstances that brought him to the streets of king's landing in the first place. his desperation taking a step back as his eyebrows furrowed.

　　so far from home...four words that could mean nothing but the acknowledgment of his dornish complexion. but criston wondered if this person could know more than they let on. for yes, he knew these streets soi well, and yet they felt so different. as if everything had changed from a second to the next, and he juts had to know what happened.

　　throughout his musings, his teeth had finally sunken down into the plump, breaking its skin and letting its juice fill the lord commander's mouth, droplets of it dribbling down the stubble he had not found time or place to shave yet. it was as delicious as its appearance promised. "and where should you take me?" he inquired, wiping away the juice with his own wrist. "may i have you name first, at least?"

[sehkirus]

`✦ Playfulness ⊹ Sheepishly, Sehkirus wanted to lie. Taunt the strange man in a way that he was sure he hadn't received in a long time - if at all. Sehkirus knew their nature and how dangerous straddling these lines could prove. Yet, there was no offer and no acceptance. He was sure the other wasn't pursuing them in that manner, so his dignity was safe from being surrendered and succumbed to the divinity within them. Though, Sehkirus wasn't quite if they weren't curious as to the secrets that lingered beneath the man's surface. Secrets tangibly tethered or without physicality. They could feel the other's burdens as he thought of them. With a single breath in, they would consume every overwhelming notion that toyed with awareness and would exhale as if dispelling every single one. It was loud enough for Criston to hear. Feel. Shamelessly, the span of his chest expanded. As if threatening the integrity of their robes and the pin that kept them upon their single shoulder.

"Sehkirus." Simple. The softness of their name drew air over the tongue with the compression at the top of the throat. The trill off the tip was as if a gentle hymn to one god or another. They looked over at the man as they pointed toward the cobble that softened with a curve. "The docks, first. Maybe the laborers will make you a little more comfortable with the sound of hammers and shipwork. Then up a canal to see tapestry and listen to the singing." Sehkirus softly laughed. His eyes now focused before him. He was no royal figure, but the pride of the Priestess kept his head held high. "You carry yourself like a knight. Perhaps someone of acclaim. Strength. Yet, you've strayed far from the curiosities that kept both eyes open?" He immediately interjected to keep him from agreeing or disagreeing with the claim. "I don't care of what or where. You keep your secrets. You may wield your might to protect, but at this moment, I'm the shield. Allow my priesthood to serve. Consider it a favor from The Nigh."

[sehkirus]

`✦ Subtleness ⊹ Sehkirus mask did very little to obscure the features to which the gods had graced them with. The moss and lavender added a gentle fragrance amongst the consumption of wine and charred meats. Perhaps it was their ethereal essence that drew virile to make hushed bets on their attempts to provoke the priestess from their celebration. Perhaps the language of seduction roused these nobles. Their own awareness sought to release these men from their own search for fulfillment to truly celebrate another union between two houses. And for a moment, Sehkirus sought to embrace the wonderful exploits of two lovers finding one another -- regardless of political or tactical gain.

The tempers of war raged; yet, these were not their battles to which they were capable of fighting. Nor could they extinguish them. Their purpose was to serve through other means. Their hands could not wield a sword. Not of the iron nor cold steel. It was their turn to bestow the Dorne prince of well-intentions. Sehkirus place a hand over their heart to submit their regard for prince's title and throne. Also to keep the silks from slipping under the weight of their emerald pendant. It was no mystery to the Priestess' placement. It was clear how the guards and knights addressed them through their steely stares that fought off inhibitions.

"Your Highness...," Sehkirus spoke softly. Naturally, modulating between direction and regard. They were instructed to make as many exchanges with the houses, possible. Granted the chance, why not? After all, perhaps fate would have them befriend a heir for whatever intention The Nigh had for them. "It pleases me that you have a great lifetime ahead of you both. May the Gods shine upon you, both."

---@trystanexmartell

[thechildgxd]

Placing the second fruit in his bag without contest, Malcadore mentally notes that he did have another title he could have given. One that had been used in scorn, sneered behind his back.

The Mad Mage.

It felt strange to use it himself. His father and mother had always recoiled at his arts. It was something he kept to himself, for self enrichment rather than to help his family.

Following along, he sighed. How could he possibly explain? Should he? That he's from another age, ripped into a new time. No... best not to. He would seem a lunatic.

"I've set out on my own, you could say. Left it all behind to see if I can survive the trials of the world."

[sehkirus]

`✦ Compassion ⊹ Those were the few gems that their lives had far less of. Though, most were simply trying to merely survive with the pawns and pieces they'd been dealt. They'd slipped a hand into the satchel. For a brief moment, the rummaging softly hissed and howled under the swift shifting of fingers. Several carts were passed until the beautiful allure of oils and flowers made the heavens envious. A soft smile greeted the maiden from the priestess. Two golden coins were placed inside a woven basket. They secured a beautiful flute of golden unguent that was as fluid as water. Every motion was like first nature - fluid and precise. As if rehearsed a thousand times. Yet, it was a unique encounter. He continued down the descending path that would surely drown the sound of the busy streets with waterways and naval men.

"I understand that sentiment. Though ...," Sehkirus paused. Their gaze drifting off to the stone that lined the trotted path. Horse-led carriages filed to one side, while those on foot gathered to the other. Continuation followed once the loud carts gained distance. "One's own accord isn't such a bad thing. You get to find many willing to make those periods much more interesting. You never know what- or whom, you might stumble upon." Sehkirus paid Malcadore with a generous, befitting token of smile. One that was a little less retreating. Less shy. Friendly. Provocative. Sultry. "I trust that you have a place to rest while your pursuits of new experiences find you?"

[legendsvng]

　　how many hours had gone by since the knight last had any food? he could not tell. hunger was not a priority of his, not when the kingsguard displayed the banners of house baratheon with pride as he walked past the gates of king's landing. cold sweat ran down criston's forehead, holding himself back from confronting the armoured strangers - where were his men?

　　as he sought for any familiar face, his steps were brought to a halt when a stranger crossed his way. a stranger of undeniable beauty, presenting him with a ripe plum. an earnest gift, it seemed.

　　a wiser desition would've been to decline the present and move along - the capital seemed to be under seige, the crowned stag standing where the dragon should have been. and yet, the dornish lost himself on the eyes of the giver, fingers taking the fruit from them with an intrigued expression. the fruit could have been poisoned, a thought criston ignored as could feel his stomach growling underneath the armour.

　　"thank you." his voice was soft, a tone reserved for only a few since he had become lord commander. "to what can i owe this kindness...? in such dire times, every fruit matters."

[sehkirus]

`✦ Hilarity ⊹ Two strangers drawn to a singular space. And yet, they'd find the man's eyes to be filled with questions. Though he accepted the gift, could they really be completely distrusted the motives of another. He didn't need to know how to swim the infinite depths of higher mysteries to see questions in his silent notions. He respected the question. The other was consumed with self-preservation. Only a man of knighthood would have such a disposition. His stance. His cautionary surveillance. All of it was quite telling. He just felt as if their kindness was a resource that required debt.

"I feel that even if I were to tell you that it requires nothing in return, you wouldn't believe me. 'Thanks' was payment, enough." The Priestess drew their fruit closer to them. Every fruit had a purpose. Counted to the exact number. Even the nuts, edible seeds, grains, and herbs. They shook their head, declining even the seeding thought that what they'd offered held a price. They'd even chuckled to express the tone. "I am familiar with fees and tax. Imposed from my hand or taken from it. That has no exchange rate, nor will I accept it from ...," Sehkirus paused before continuing. They took a shallow inhale. "...Someone so far from home." They drowned the noise. Their focus hardening on Criston before retreating. Their motives were never to bring harm nor alarm. "Come. You can gather more perspectives on the city if we change your vantage point. After all, ghosts fade when you gain insight."

[thechildgxd]

Malcadore wasn't shamed by looking over Sehkirus' body. If the gods hadn't wanted men to enjoy one another's form, they would not have made the body of a man so beautiful.

"I suppose you are correct. But it is rude to let my pondering distract me from such magnificence."

His gaze followed the others, amused. It seemed they had admirers. Onlookers, snickering to themselves. Malcadore wasn't bothered. He had never let the mockery of others harm him.

"I think the one is sufficient, thank you." He gave a shallow bow as way of introduction; just because he was in a different space didn't mean his manners vanished.

"You may call me Malcadore, known as The Firemind."

[sehkirus]

`✦ Dignity ⊹ The stranger-turned-familiar's words were those that would best fall upon the ignorant. Should one be so inclined, they'd retreat from the glances that underlined his tone. Instead, Sehkirus seemed to beam under the weight of his gaze. They'd even appear to give a greater polish to his prestige. Even if both, commonfolk and nobility, sought to keep them barred by their profession. As if self-value and respect were lost because; gods' forbid, one indulged in the unity of mind, body, and spirit. They gave Malcadore the second drupe. Payment for the generosity of his sentiments. Maybe even a gesture to satisfy the debts. Considerably? It would serve him in the near future. They'd felt it was so. And like usual, they obeyed the impulses.

"Firemind? Well, Ser Firemind..." A whisper in his direction. Sehkirus smiled. It was soft. Gentle, even. The title felt as if it were a sacred oath. And the weight upon his tongue felt heavier. He gazed down the cobblestone and gestured for them to walk and talk. After all, it was better to leave this place before the rowdy youth decided to filter in. "By what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you upon this day? I do not intend to pry, but in all my days, I'd not met the impassioned gaze of you, Ser."

[thechildgxd]

Malcadore was dressed all in black, the sun not bothering him despite this. He had always been resistant to the burning sun.

He couldn't help but smile at Sehkirus, looking him over a bit more thoroughly. Though this displacement in time had shaken him, he was more than adaptable. He would survive. And, perhaps, like it here.

He gave a nod at the offered fruit and held out his hand. As he did, the long sleeves slid along his fore arm. He gentle cradled the gift in a heavily scarred hand, dozens of marks running down his arm. There was a price to be paid for blood magic, and Malcadore had paid it many times.

"You are most gracious. I've been deep in thought."

[sehkirus]

`✦ Appraisal ⊹ The wonders of the aware would spill the impulsiveness of a soul. That is, if experience hadn't wounded such a dove. He knew not to expose his thoughts so quickly. The Priestess bowed his head to honor the man's presence. Sehkirus smiled as the token was accepted. Relief. The weight of order and obligation to the unseen was heavy. Some would even consider his; or the kindred, position to be a tribulation.

"If you'd like, I have another drupe that you may have. After all, I was led to get two in addition to my original count." Sehkirus stood upright. The viridescent outlined his stout figure. He hadn't an ounce of shame. He honored his deity just by gracing people with the allure of each curve that could be witnessed. "There isn't an ounce of disgrace in thought. After all, it is where you get to retreat to your most intimate moments, is it not?" He felt...as if he'd been displaced. But ships brought new people into new ports nearly every day. "I am Sehkirus. Sehkirus Waters. Some would say I'm a Maester, but of a different path." The Priestess chuckled to himself as he threw a fleeting gaze to the silenced scandalmongers.

[sehkirus]

[sehkirus]

`✦ Appraisal ⊹ Delicate in approach. Intentional in decisiveness. They'd gently peruse every piece of fruit that could fit into the silk-lined basket. As its tow increased in weight, it would draw closer to their bosom. The cleave of their breast threatening to spill from the neckline of their emerald wraps. Softened whispers sought to elude the ears of Sehkirus for gossip was rampant through the cobble streets. Droves of fact and fiction seemed to be carried as if horse and carriage paraded it. Mahogany gaze danced as if ignorance shielded the chattering from their ears. A moment of victory and glee was granted before they'd flicker like a sudden wildfire. They jolted upwards as Sehkirus procured ripe plums to be juiced. Eye contact was established. The swelling smile caught them by surprise. Their disposition fed the Priestess almost as if it were the air in their lungs or water to the thirsty.

"A gift." Sehkirus' voice was soft. Direct. Their attention now swayed with the absence of the meddlesome hens that were slain. Figuratively, of course. They extend a piece of stone fruit in their direction. "Some would say that the grace of the unknown has led me to satiate the moment of hunger that you've been ignoring." >>open to all. nonspecific location. assume proper respects.