#queenoftheeasternsea

[pariahnolonger]

Muscle Memories || Queenofthe-easternsea {Drabble}

It has become their way of things to glide into each others paths at precisely the right moment and leave just as effortlessly, unsure when fate or whatever it might be will bring them together again.

This time is no different than the others.

She finds him staring holes into the bottom of a glass, not an entirely unfamiliar place for them. Without much effort he finds himself breaking that stare, and the eyes that meet his own share an understanding. Familiar steps to an old dance. As gazes separate again, focusing on nothing in particular beyond the wood-grain of the bar, there are no questions.  There is no need for idle chatter as her hand moves to wrap around his, and footsteps follow the path she leads from the crowded parts of the bar they met in. 

They have been doing this for as long as he can recall.  From the first day they met, when he was still uncertain of himself and she and several others set his shoulders in the right direction and cultured a skill set that he knew like his own heartbeat now, very little about their exchanges changed. They were not of a type to become attached, she even less so- and no matter how the evening went, there was a unspoken resolution that come morning they would go their separate ways. 

She smells of ale, wind and salt water, and breath captures the aroma eagerly, shutting out plagued memories of ashen earth and herbs. The lips that hover near her throat seek to wipe free of the lingering wisp of another, to clean the slate and lay bare the wounds he dared not put words to. It seems impossible to express the appreciation he had formed for a road-map of jagged lines and sharp edges when his hand moves against gentle curves, that a word does not exist for the appeal of barbed tongues while his own is favored with something entirely more supple.

There is no judgment in her presence. No need to falsify himself or hold himself rigid against assumed judgement. Simply able to strip away the layers of rules and habits as easily as the shirt falls from his shoulders. The freedom found in pure acceptance of the moment- bittersweet and intoxicating- something that in the back of his mind he wonders if he would be able to keep. Perhaps, as had happened all to many times before, the walls would rebuild of their own accord.

And yet in that moment, when the sheets curl around them and calloused fingertips trace idle patterns on shoulder blades, he finds himself wondering if they could be stripped away entirely. After all, brick and mortar can only hold so long against a tidal-wave. 

[spiritflux]

(ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)

Forehead: FriendshipNeck: Deep Attachment

Their skins are still damp with sweat when they pull apart, catching their breath together and sighing in satiated bliss. Fenris can never thank Isabela enough for this - he cannot thank her for showing her that touch does not always bring pain, cannot thank her for teaching him to love himself before he loves another.

Neither of them are in this for love, but the affection that he feels for the Rivaini woman is nonetheless overwhelming. He leans over, close enough to feel her laughing breath on his cheek, and presses tattooed lips to her forehead, then the side of her neck. He knows that he will be gone by morning, yet he cannot help but look forward to the next time that they meet this way.

[pariahnolonger]

☄ ; )

Leave a ☄ in my askbox and a character’s name and you’ll hear the first thought my character would have if they woke up naked and in bed with that person.

 Minx…. He actually chuckles, eyes closing again for a moment before opening back on the ceiling. Maybe I will stay for a moment longer. Just for a while. 

[pariahnolonger]

"Don’t look!"

Shoulders return to their previous position pressed tightly against the pillar as a beleaguered sigh leaves him. In his years, he had, through one too many poor experiences learned to deny that part of the mind that demanded to do the exact opposite of what she’d said. To be deprived of knowing what the scene in front of them could reveal made him none too pleased. Fingers tightening on the string of his bow he hisses the words through his teeth, “I do hope that will mean you will tell me what it is I am not meant to be seeing?” 

[kirkwallbirdofpeace]

'sorry, i was expecting treasure, not spiders. get well soon. love, isabela'

gdi isabela

[sneakingliar]

+apathlikeatrack +queenofthe-easternsea +ask-opera-phantom +glorytoasgard +wielderofanduril

"We think lots of these should stay away oh yes--stay far away from us, we are nothing, nothing here move on now."

[wanderingapostate]

An Unsound Delivery || Olivia & Bela

It sounded like a brilliantly easy job: pick up the cargo, take it down to the docks, drop it off, and get paid. How nice was that? There wasn't any stealing, there wasn't any lying, it was just a simple pick up and deliver. For the most part, it lived up to her expectations. She picked up the wooden crate from some dwarven merchant in Lowtown and now had made it down to the Docks where someone was supposed to be waiting for her.

She made her way down the dark streets, crate in hands. The main walkway was empty, for the most part, but there were a few people she could hear in the distance. Thinking nothing of it, she kept walking until she found the warehouse she was to meet up with the cargo recipient.

Olivia stood around waiting for a few minutes, growing anxious with anticipation. Finally, a man approached in the distance. As he drew nearer, Olivia made the conclusion that it had to be the one she was waiting for and stepped into the moonlight.

“I see you’ve made it.” The man said once he was within earshot. “And you’ve got the box, brilliant. Hand it over.”

The mage took the crate to him and handed it over, “And my payment?”

He opened the top of the box to examine the contents, “Now why would I do that?” After making sure everything was intact, he closed the lid and turned around before she could protest.

As he started to walk away, several men made their way from the shadows and soon the girl found herself surrounded. “Wait, what?” She whipped her head around, looking at all of the men around her. “You don’t really want to attack me, do you? You’re not really getting anything out of it! You—“ She flinched as an arrow from the top of the warehouse whizzed past her head, “I don’t want to fight you!”

But they would take none of it, they wanted a fight. As several of the men ran towards her at full speed, she did her best to counter them with a small blast of fire. Without her staff, her magic use was very limited and instead she relied on a small dagger as her protection. The blast from the fire was enough to slow down two of the attackers, but it did not stop the others from knocking her to the ground.

She fumbled around for her dagger but dodging the blows from the men made it hard to get a good grasp on the handle. With a loud groan she kicked at her attacker and pushed herself to the wall where she got back to her feet, “This was supposed to be easy.”

[wanderingapostate]

+2

"-- And what can I do for you, stranger? It's always a pleasure to be among new company."