Sunday, December 6, 2009

RL: December! A month of stuff.

December! It is here, it is cold (relatively speaking) and pretty much the second half of the month is going to be spent traveling and with friends & family. Hooray!

RP seems to have hit a tiny bit of a lull, but not to worry. I'm going to get off my ass (figuratively speaking) and write some today. If that fails, well, there's still lots more to archive.

WoW is scraping the barrel to keep my interest right now. I'm tired of the content that's available and have very little interest in some of the things that usually keep me entertained between major patches and expansion, such as alt-leveling and gold-making. All that I really want right now are the stories, the meaty little interactions between characters and the moving forward of their supposedly exciting lives. In a world where everything's always hovering on the edge of catastrophe, you'd think things would be a little crazier.

Then again, one of the surest ways to prevent falling apart during times of extreme duress is to maintain your daily routine.

Some storylines that I'll be working on soon:

Ambika. Bika's still trapped in a elf's body and is none too happy about it. I need to write up Yayo'jin's meeting with her to begin moving forward.

Ysani. Yissy is playing tug of war with her conscience right now. Spending countless hours on a joint engineering project with Fenniel and Firael has her wondering if she's missing something in her relationship with Keilos. She's young and still learning what compatibility means. Is there ever a truly right answer?

Libby. Our favorite obsessive-compulsive druid is still happily distracted from impotency woes by her pet geek. Having Fenniel around gives her life focus. Learning to live with both companionship and intimacy is an enjoyable challenge, but she's not sure where to go from here.

Skulley. Laying low for the most part, Miss Adelaide (and no, you may not call her that) may be in for a shock if anything comes of her little foray into the Stormwind prison system. She is a dot on SI:7's radar, and what happens next will depend on whether they dismiss her or not.

Astrani. You haven't seen her in this blog, which is understandable considering she's all but retired. However, there's a story for her in the works and it promises to be a very interesting one. Sorry I'm being vague, but it's going to be awesome and you'll want to be surprised. Everyone loves sekrits, right?

I have two cups of coffee in me now, and I've caught up on my reading. Looks like it's time to get to work.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

RL: A tiny little rant about chocolate.

I bought this bar of chocolate the other day: Ghirardelli's Dark Chocolate with Raspberry. It's not great. (In fact, it's not even remotely as pleasurable to eat as the back label would have you believe.)

Don't get me wrong. I've enjoyed the Ghirardelli brand. Some of their candies have, at times, made me woozy with delight.

I love dark chocolate. I love raspberry. There should be a frenzied chorus of orgasmic angels blowing out my ears when I eat this. But there aren't.

This is a boring candy.

The chocolate is pretty unwieldy even by dark chocolate standards. (And again, I love dark chocolate.) The texture is hard and unmelting, the flavor dull, dirtlike, and uninspired. This is fine if you like dirt.

The filling is okay. It's not the concentrated raspberry goodness I thought it would be. I was hoping for "silky, tangy, sun-ripened summer fruit" and got... well, I think it would be fine on its own. It's mostly freeze-dried fruit mixed with sugar and fat, a little gritty if you're paying attention, but the flavor is nice. Unfortunately, the chocolate utterly overwhelms it, going well beyond "subtle" territory and deep into the realm of "somewhere in the tread of this dirty leather boot is the crushed remains of a raspberry".

I've eaten medicines that were more interesting. Vitamin C tablets, for instance. Or these chewy, chalky little mint-flavored things my mom used to give me when I had indigestion.

I give it a 3 out of 10: Fit for Emergency Chocolate (hormonal) and gifting to strangers you don't really care about.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm grateful for so much this year. We've paid off our debts, had some really good family times (with ALL my family circles... I have several, and that in itself is something to be thankful for), and we're healthy, happy and loved.

I'm also glad that anyone at all reads this silly blog. You know who you are!

What are you thankful for?

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Ye've Got a Nice Arse [PG-13]

Not too long after I revived her, Skulley went to the Pig & Whistle for a bit of whiskey and smoke and happened across one Tarquin ap Danwyrith. She spent the rest of the evening staring at his finely-sculpted man-tush in a most unsubtle fashion, and later that week when my song-writing itch flared up (I know, I know, they make a cream for that) I thought it would be fun to write a bawdy little bar-song from Skulley's point of view.

Yes, there's a melody. There's also a half-assed harmony, and my brother is actually working on a bit of music to go along with it. I can't wait till I hear what he makes of it.

It's worth mentioning that Skullz, when amusing herself, likes to ham up her accent. The harder it is to understand her, the more apt her eyes to sparkle and her smoke-tinged laugh to ring out, drawing attention like as not.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

Ye've spurned me advances, an' yes, that's a first
An' if y'don't love me, methinks I may burst
That's a lie, but I want ye ta give me a chance
I jus' want a fuck, not romance.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

Just give th'sign, cully; I'll sit in yer lap
Ye've all a' me sweetness an' graces on tap
An' nivver a lass a' sich discernin' taste
'As ever took roost on yer face.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

Now if yer ear's closed ta such bawdy ol' verse
Per'aps I've misjudged ye, ye'll hate me or worse;
If tryin' ta bed ya requires a dance
I'll do it ta get in yer pants.

Ye've got a nice arse so let's do it
We'll go back t'my place an' discuss it
I've got whiskey an' beer and a cup a' good cheer-O
Th' drinkin's on me
Here's hopin' that you will be too.

I'm hopin' that you will be too.

Monday, November 23, 2009

RP: Out of the Frying Pan Pt. 3

Out of the Frying Pan Pt. 3
Author: Skulley

Marta stared at Skulley.

Skulley stared back.

The stockade was no hotel. Dead roaches lined the floor under the rough wooden bench on which the slender woman now sat, lit cigarette in hand. The rough-hewn stone walls wept cold moisture. Somewhere, water dripped slowly and relentlessly onto the damp stone floor. Marta was planted on the sagging bench bolted to the opposite wall. She coughed, a distressingly wet and noxious sound that echoed in the tiny cell.

"Nice place, innit?"

Pale, piggy eyes regarded her stonily from a bloated face marked with broken red-purple veins. Marta was a massive woman with ponderous, sagging breasts; broad as well as tall, she was as fat as Skulley was thin. Her enormous feet sprawled halfway across the room, covered in worn and filthy workboots. Tattered overalls attempted--and, thankfully, mostly sufficed--to cover her bulk. Skulley reckoned each of the thick hands resting limply on Marta's bulging thighs could easily lift a small child by the skull and crush it with a minimum of effort.

Marta spat.

Skulley stared briefly at the quivering lump of congealed phlegm as it steamed next to the rusty iron bars cemented directly into the floor and ceiling.

"...Reckon if we put up some curtains it might make the place right cheery."

Marta grunted. "Bate 'is 'ead in wi' a 'ammer."

A cloud of smoke and steam issued from Skulley's painted mouth. "Y'don't say."

"'Ee na'er shat up nei'er."


Plink. Plink. Plink.

"Well! S'pose I'll spend th'rest a' me evenin' in th'parlor, then. Call if y'need me, eh darlin'?" Skulley shifted slightly on her bench and lit a fresh cigarette off the stub of her old one. She'd been chaining since Newhall'd had her frisked and taken both the plain silver lighter and her box of matches, as well as a number of other items labeled as contraband. Who knew when she'd get another light? Clearly the only solution was to smoke 'em while she had 'em, and they'd been kind enough to leave her with the worn tobacco pouch she wore knotted around a belt loop. Her jacket and confiscated locksmithing kit, however, were now hung somewhere in a cheerless, dingy office not much better than the rest of the run-down city jail.

The smoldering butt of her dying cigarette danced off her fingers and hissed in a small pool of standing water near the south wall. Then it hissed again. Skulley's pencil-thin brows lifted.


"Fancy seein' you here, Alej."

"Funny how that is. Captain sent me." Alejandra, snippy as ever, materialized just outside the prison cell, her small, dark form lodged firmly between the bars and the small stone outcropping that divided the room from the main thoroughfare and kept her hidden from casual observers. She passed a handful of bobby pins and a small thief's kit, a leather wallet with a row of small picks tucked into the loops inside, through the bars.

"Bit a' overkill on th' picks, love." She felt out the keyhole on the door, skinny arm wrapped around the bars. The lock was old and in spite of a bit of rust, it tumbled over in seconds.

"Don't bitch, you're lucky I came out here at all."

"Now now, sweetheart. Save the pussycattin' fer th'ship. Can ye pick at all? These locks is child's play, an' I need ta make a stop at th'warden's office fer me shite."

Alej rolled her eyes. "You need a distraction."


"You owe me, Skelton."

"'Course I do, sugar." Skulley swooped down toward the little deckhand. Alejandra didn't have time to react and took a brief but firm kiss to the mouth.

"...I'll fuckin' kill ya."

"Go on, darlin'. Lots to be done before we can clear outta here." Skulley's grin threatened to split her face. She turned and executed a sweeping bow toward Marta, dodging a half-hearted dagger-lunge from her livid crewmate and darting out into the hallway, where she promptly melted from sight. Alejandra sighed.

shite." Alejandra spat and headed the opposite direction, relying on her own tarnished pick to flip the locks on half a dozen cells down the block, picking the ones housing the least offensive-looking brutes--all the men who looked at her without a dull spark of rape-lust in their eyes, anyway. Just enough to cause a ruckus.

By the time the hectic clanging of the alarms began, both of the
Guppy's crewmates were safe on board. Alejandra disappeared down-decks. Skulley pulled a lighter from the pocket of her reclaimed jacket and lit a cigarette, then knocked on Xionn's office door.

"Sorry I'm late, boss."

Sunday, November 22, 2009

RP: Out of the Frying Pan Pt. 2

Out of the Frying Pan Pt. 2
Author: Xionn

"Skelton's over an hour late Captain, how much longer are we going to wait?" Lafoot was sifting through papers attached to a clipboard, most of which were notes from Rafegar about the location of cursed troll treasure. "We didn't wait near as long as this for Old Mustardbeard."

Xionn took a long drag on his cigarette, leaning of the railing of the ship. They were currently docked in Stormwind. Only a single moon hung in the sky like a lonely Winter Veil ornament, the other hiding somewhere over the horizon. "I know how long we been waitin', Lafoot. What ye don' realize 's th'value o' information 'n patience." There was a long silence. John waited expectantly for Xionn to explain. He didn't.

"...I don't follow, Captain."

"Word is, major raid's gone down on tha blokes what calls themselves the Riders. Every lowlife in th'city's all giddy. Gettin' ready t'play their 'ands."

Lafoot nodded. "I follow ye so far. You're not planning on raiding them too, are you?"

"Neptulon no, Lafoot. Y've got sugarcane fer brains." Xionn turned around on his heel, stubbing his cigarette out on Lafoot's surcoat. John winced, despite the layers of clothing. "All'a th'goods 'ave been confiscated already. Anythin' valuable, both illegal 'n legal's in th'pockets o' Stormwind's blue 'n gold. That is t'say, th' nobles. Word is 'few crates of 'rathi Gold made it inta the'r 'ands as well."

"So... we're going to steal from the King himself, is what you're saying?"

"King prolly don' know shat 'bout this. Nay, yer goin' ta take Jerijah, clean 'im up, an' botha ye 're goin' t'look like presentable blue 'n gold. Accents 'n all. Only yer paper's goin' t'list ye 's Shaw's men. Only Shaw'n 'is two lapdogs'd know the dif'rence. Git those goods onta th'ship."

Lafoot looked concerned, although his features were mostly hidden by the shadows cast by the sails. "And what about the troll treasure? Brother Sul's Cargo?"

"We sail 'fore th' next moon, Lafoot. Troll treasure ain't goin' naywhere, 'n Sul's men don' need us fer 'few days yet."

"And what about the rest of us?" Alejandra's voice came from just under the stairs on the deck below. She quickly ascended them and stood beside John. "I'm not taking a pay cut 'cause I didn't get t'do anything."

"I was gettin' t'ye." Xionn chuckled quietly. "More'n likely, Skelton's holed up somewhere safe, 'r in the Stocks 'erself. Given 'er tendency t' 'ang round with this crowd, 'd wager th' latter."

Alejandra snorted. "So I'm breaking Skelton out? Fan-fuckin'-tastic."

"Not just Skelton, Alej. Yer doin' a large scale jailbreak. Wouldn' want th' higher ups t'think Skelton's important 'r anythin' like that. An' if Skelton's nay there, jailbreak's a good distraction fer Lafoot anyways."

"And if I refuse?"

The sails cast shadows on Xionn's face as well, but there was just enough moonglow to make his wide, malicious grin stand out. "There're worse things'n helpin' a matey y'dun like, Alej."

Friday, November 20, 2009

RP: Out of the Frying Pan Pt. 1 [PG-13]

Skulley's been spending her Tuesday evenings in a tavern called the Pig & Whistle. It's officially owned by the Langstons, but a group of entrepreneurs (read: reprobates) called the Wildfire Riders, headed by a fella named Tarquin ap Danwyrith, are heavily invested in Old Town's most famous pub and spend a lot of time there. (Tarq's got a really nice ass. At least, Skulley thinks so.) Anyway! Tarq and his group have (repeatedly) pissed off some higher-ups in the Stormwind government's secret service (that'd be the SI:7) and the head of said organization wants him in custody. The authorities staged a raid on the Pig one evening in an attempt to serve an arrest warrant to a mysteriously-vanished Tarquin. Skulley decides she doesn't want to be questioned and tries to slip out the back. Oops.

Out of the Frying Pan Pt. 1
Author: Skulley

It was a sight easier to maneuver past the kitchen than it was to fade unnoticed from the tavern's open hall, and Skulley relaxed a bit as she put on her best casual face. She lit a cigarette, hit the back door without breaking stride and sauntered into the night. A hand closed on each of her thin upper arms and she smiled, exhaling smoke through her nose and saucing up her usual clipped accent.

"Yarr mates, glad t'see yer not too shy t'approach a lady walkin' all by 'er lonesome in a dark alley."

The guards didn't return her cheerful grin. Without looking around, Skulley counted her opposition. Four--no, six--uniformed guards in plate and armed with steel surrounded the back door of the Pig & Whistle, the one on her right towering a good eight inches over her, the one to her left squat and swarthy. Two men dressed in street clothes smoked nearby, watching with great interest. She smiled broadly and produced a convincing hiccup.

"Cat got yer tongues, I see. Pity that, coulda used one of a night. How're ye lads?"

One of the smoking men strolled over to the pool of sickly light that washed over the Pig's back porch, stepping just inside the circle it made and tipping back his cap to peer up at Skulley.

"Think you can just slip out the back in the middle of a raid, do you? Bring her down the stairs, Hensel."

She allowed herself to stumble ever so slightly on the last step. Both guards tightened their grip on her arms. "World's a bit wobbly t'night, sorreh boys. Mind lettin' a lass have a touch more a' her ciggy 'fore it burns down ta ashes?" She lifted her hand but her arms were pinned firmly to her sides by the guards. Ol' Plainclothes plucked the cigarette from her spindly fingers and put it to her lips, solemn as stone as she sucked in a lungful of fragrant smoke and batted an eyelash his way. He dropped the rest on the cobbles and crushed it beneath a scuffed black boot.

"Thanks, love. Yer a great help. Not t'mention ye've a splendid arse."

"Papers, ma'am."

"In me left pocket, love. S'deep, though. Y'might hafta dig 'round fer it." A brisk search yielded nothing but a sly grin and a theatrical lowering of the lashes. "Mayhap it's in me other pocket, darlin'. A girl forgets day ta day which side 'er pants is buttoned on, an' all that."

He checked the other, flushing slightly when his rummaging elicited not only a slim wallet, but a husky purr. She tilted her hips almost imperceptibly toward him and grinned. He jerked his hand back as though stung, cleared his throat and flipped open the fine square of folded leather. The papers inside were a fine reproduction, truths and lies spread liberally throughout. She hoped they would suffice.

"Bold as brass... Skelton, is it? Never heard of any Skeltons around here. How long have you been in the city?"

"Reckon two weeks, give 'er take. Me ship's docked here fer a spell." Skulley smiled sweetly in spite of the gauntleted hands curled around her arms, digging painfully into muscle. She summoned another drunken hiccup.

"Have you seen one Tarquin ap Danwyrith this evening?"

"Aye, but don't hold me t'that. Never did have a good look at his face, had me distracted wi' his magnificent backside an' fuckin' amazin'... hat."

"Is he still on the premises?"

"Didn't see where he got off to." She staggered a bit on her high-heeled boots, then steadied herself and gave her interrogator a wink. "What's yer name, handsome?"

"Officer Newhall to you. Tell me, Skelton, what's your business with the Riders?"


He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were just drinking with them and leering at their gods-damned kingpin."

"Oh, is that them, then. Well, I s'pose I give 'em me coin fer whiskey, an' th'pleasure a' me company free a' charge."

"Have you ever, or are you currently working with or for any of the Riders or their associates?"

"I take orders from one bloke. Only th' one, an' he's no more a Rider than yer mother's a--"

He raised his hand, cutting her off. "Answer the damn question."

She spat near his boots and licked her lips. "No, I'm not, an' I haven't. That's th'honest truth."

"Nine out of ten liars love to use that phrase."

"Nine out a' ten statistics is made up on th'spot, Officer Whoever-Ye-Are, an' ten out a' ten arseholes love ta cite 'em."

Newhall leveled a piercing gaze at the lanky woman, sharp green eyes boring into her dark and mirthful ones. He didn't particularly believe her claims, nor did he disbelieve. Shaw had his knickers in a twist, however, and his orders were clear. A raid, particularly this raid, wasn't something to be taken lightly. It'd be in the papers tomorrow under headlines in three-inch print and he'd be damned if he didn't make every effort to make it count. It would be best to take her in for more questioning; a humbling would be even better, given her defiant and fearless smirk, and he'd be more than happy to deliver it. His silent deliberation was cut short by the next comment dropped dryly from her purple-painted lips.

"Don't suppose ye'll let me be on me merry way soon, officer? Got work in th'mornin', an' t'be honest yer about as much fun as a boil on me arse."

A cold steel bracelet clicked around her wrist. If the cuffs were any bigger she'd have been able to slip right out of them; as it was, the tightest setting was only made effective by the jutting crest of bone just below her skinny thumb. Some quick shuffling by the guards ensued and Newhall was able to fasten the other cuff behind her back. She didn't fight.

"Adelaide Skelton, you're under arrest for public intoxication. Bodrick," he addressed the other plainclothes smoker, "keep an eye out for more stragglers. I'll take her in."

"Have fun."

Skulley aimed a wink and a kiss over her shoulder in the direction of Newhall's partner as he led her away. His face was branded on her memory. "I will, love. I will."

Thursday, November 19, 2009

[RP] Too Much of a Good Thing Pt. 3 [PG-13]

Too Much of a Good Thing Pt. 3
Author: Keilos & Ysani

Keilos leaned back against his makeshift pillow and popped another slice of apple into his mouth. He'd been roused from his bed by Silvermoon's alarm bells
(and what the Nether was he doing in the bed anyway – he'd gone to sleep on the couch!) and had pelted out of the chapter house, shrugging his armor on, his training driving him, even half-asleep, to defend the city.

Once he'd gotten to the Midsummer fire, one thing had led to another, and he'd lost himself in the steady stream of combat resulting from the Alliance's attempts to steal the Sin'dorei's flame. It wasn't until much later, when Ysani called for him over the stone, that he dragged himself from the battle-trance he'd fallen into and realized that not only was it late afternoon, but he also hadn't had the first thing to eat that day.

She'd met him on his way back to the chapter house, aggravation and concern warring on the visible half of her face as she looked at him. Without a word, she'd taken his weapon and shield from him and carried them back for him. When the red-haired paladin had suggested that he go back to bed, he hadn't quite been able to restrain himself from snarling at her. Almost as quickly, he shook himself and apologized. “No,” he said. “I promised you a picnic, and I intend to keep that promise. Let me wash up and get the fruit prepared, and we can go.”

Now, sprawled under a Silvermoon tree with a belly full of food, more than a little good wine inside him, and his cloak rolled up to rest his head on, Keilos was watching Ysani eat skethyl berries with obvious enjoyment, wondering how to bring up the subject with her of his feelings.

“Keilos..?" She paused to pop another berry into her mouth. "Not that I mind, but do you realize you've been watching me like a hawk since we sat down? Why so tense?” Ysani cocked an eyebrow at the other Blood Knight as she licked the tart juice from her fingers. That, however, caused Kei to look away very quickly.

“Sorry. Just...have things on my mind.” And you doing that with that berry juice has just added a lot of other things to the list, damn it all.

Reading the gesture, she snatched her fingers away from her mouth with a red-faced 'oh'.

Keilos chuckled. He saw Ysani's blush out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. "It's not just that. Me. Us. Stuff."


Kei shifted up on his elbows to catch the girl's eye. For a long moment, he hesitated, gathering up his courage. At the last moment before he spoke, he glanced away, chickening out. " and stuff." Casting a desperate gaze across the picnic blanket, his eyes fell on the remains of their meal. "You did a good job with getting things ready - I hardly had to do anything. There just may be hope for you in the kitchen yet."

"Call me crazy, but I don't think my picnic basket is what's got you all worked up. I'd like to hear more about this mysterious 'stuff'." Ysani gathered up the stack of dishes and piled them in the basket, then sprawled out next to him on the blanket, hands under her head.

"Nothing important. Just - how different my life has been since you. I still feel like I don't deserve it." Kei kept his eyes fixed on the leaves on the branches over his head. "Like I don't deserve any of it."

She rolled over onto her side and studied him solemnly, one arm folded under her cheek. "What have you ever done not to deserve it? You're good to me. You make me happy, Kei. Why shouldn't you be happy too?"

"Every awful thing that Vranesh ever said about me - the things that Blood Knight in the Eye said. They're all quite true. Changed or not, they're still true. Makes me feel like I don't deserve to lo-live the life I currently am. Content, almost...happy." Keilos shrugged. "Probably sounds stupid, I know."

"You realize that's like me saying I'm worthless because I screwed up everything I ever tried until I joined the order, don't you? I don't care about what you used to do. I care about what you do now." She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. It was a gentle and mercifully brief kiss, and she sighed as she pulled back.

Keilos closed his eyes, sighed, and did his best to remain absolutely still. "Do me a favor? The next time I get the bright idea that you need a medic to check you out for any reason...smack me." A second gusty sigh, and he opened his eyes to focus on the leaves again. Just tell her. Come difficult can it really be? And what's the worst that could happen?

Strictly speaking, the absolute worst that could happen is that Ysani could decide that she wants to end the relationship immediately because, although the sex is amazing, she doesn't want to be tied down with those emotions to one person. So naturally, I'm more than a bit nervous about this. Not to mention it's not the sort of thing I've ever discussed with anyone before at all.

A thin worry-line creased her brow. "You did it because you care about me, right? I'd never ask you to stop caring... I don't know what I'd do if you did." One slim hand reached over the narrow space between him, seeking his.

Keilos barked a laugh, harsh with nervousness. "Care about you? Light, Ysani...I think it goes rather further than that." He wanted to sit up, curl up, get away - do something to protect himself, because Light, he felt dangerously vulnerable - but he couldn't make himself let go of her hand. Rebelliously, his fingers twined themselves further into hers, keeping him where he was. Her hand was as pale as her grave little face and she stared at him, wearing an expression of growing disbelief.

"You... you're afraid. What's the matter?"

Keilos turned her hand over in his, running fingers over the calluses on her thumb and the heel of her palm. Idly, he thought that perhaps he should spend more time sketching them - they fascinated him, so much strength in those small, slender fingers - before forcibly dragging his mind back to the current situation. "You'd think some things would be easy to say, especially when they're true. Never works out that way, though."

"You can tell me anything, Kei." She shivered, her eyes half-closing as he ran his fingers over her hand. "Please don't stop doing that."

The Blood Knight's voice grew softer as his fingers caressed her hand. "I can't say it. I've been trying...can't do it. Not in words, anyway. I try, and they scatter like sand."

Her shoulder lifted in a gentle shrug, eyes drooping shut. "You can tell me later, if it's not important for me to know right this minute. I just want you to be okay." Ysani carefully extended the arm supporting her head and curled her fingers into the golden hair at the nape of his neck, brushing lightly against his ear in the process.

For a moment or two, Keilos forgot how to breathe. He shivered, feeling the last of his self-control begin to slip. When he remembered to inhale, he relaxed his grip on Ysani's hand as he attempted to pull himself back together. He brushed his thumb down the heel of the girl's hand and across the vein in her wrist and said, "It's something important. At least I think it's important. Dorri would probably say it doesn't matter."

"I don't care about what Dorri would say." Her lips brushed his ear. Hadn't there been a buffer between them? The thin strip of blanket was no longer visible there, one or both of them having closed the gap while they talked. Her breath was warm on his skin as she whispered to him between intermittent soft kisses below his ear. "Not even a little."

It took about five more seconds for Kei's self-control to disintegrate completely. As he turned his head to met Ysani's lips with his own, his last coherent thought was that there was by far too much cloth between her skin and his, and he really should do something about that situation - right now.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Retro RP: Too Much of a Good Thing Pt. 2

It should be noted that Meithrin is Keilos' older and tinkering-minded brother.
Too Much of a Good Thing Pt. 2
Author: Ysani

Dishes clattered in the guild's shared kitchen as Ysani set out plates, cutlery and napkins on the large table that served as a prep area and bar for those who might choose to spend their time in the cavernous room. Very few ever did, which made it a wonderful and private place to sit and watch (
ogle) Keilos while he cooked. She'd come to think of the kitchen as 'theirs', she realized, and the notion brought a smile to her lips.

A sturdy woven basket rested on one of the tall barstools and she set a bright tablecloth in the bottom, folding it neatly under the flatware. Packing for their outings didn't require much concentration, and her thoughts kept wandering to places that, in the interest of her sanity, they oughtn't go. Each time she caught herself thinking on those certain topics (usually by startling herself with an involuntary whimper in the semi-quiet room), she darted to the sink, which was full to the brim with water and not a few chunks of melting ice, and dunked her head in it.

Toweling dry after the most recent dip, it felt as though her lower lip couldn't possibly stick out any more. Liiiiiiight, this needs to be over. Her tired spells were gone, her sleep was restful, but she was far from happy, and that sorta negated the benefits of the whole stupid episode, didn't it? She thought it did. The towel was thoroughly soaked after several uses, so she dropped it on the pile and pulled the last dry one from a drawer and set it aside for the next time.

Apples, grapes, and a basket of skethyl berries. She rinsed them all and set them aside, then hoisted a large melon up to the counter and dropped it. It broke into ragged halves with a satisfying squishy crump and she scooped out the golden fruit with a spoon. No matter how many hours she put into weapons training, no matter how precise she could be with the axe that was an entity unto itself, she always managed to cut herself with simple kitchen knives every single time she tried to use one, until Keilos barred her from them entirely. It didn't much matter anyway. The tasks she could do without them were simple but many, and she knew it would save him a lot of time when he woke up. Speaking of which...

She'd been wakened early, just after dawn, by the thud his body made as he landed on the floor for the umpteenth time that week. In a flash she was out of her bed and at his side, helping him up, walking his dazed and still-sleeping form to the bed and settling him there. He'd burrowed into the pillows, still warm as she'd left them and likely smelling of her, and it was all she could do not to curl up beside him and wake him with a kiss. Instead she'd fled the bedroom, the feverish preparations in the kitchen a distraction that was rapidly becoming ineffective. She couldn't think of anything else she could do, and he still slept. She sat on a stool and tapped her foot, waiting. And waiting. Just when she thought she might explode, a tiny squirrel made its way into the room and whirred over to where she sat, bumping repeatedly into her shoe.

"Hey little guy! I didn't know you could find me from the bedroom. Meithrin sure knows some neat tricks, huh?" It felt oddly natural to chat with the robot. Ysani grinned as she plucked it up off the floor by its gemmed head and set it on the bar in front of her. It chirped a tinny greeting. "Here to keep me company, I see. What makes you tick, I wonder?" The gnomish toolkit unfolded with a soft snick in her hand. She sat there quietly in the detritus of her picnic-packing for the next several hours, head lowered, all other concerns chased out of her head as the happy squirrel slowly came apart.

Monday, November 16, 2009

RP: A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 7

A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 7
Author: Ysani

The afternoon light was fading by the time Ysani made it to the lake, bounding out of the forest like a deer, trailing the limp bag of evidence behind her. Without slowing, she dropped it on the low-smoldering fire, stripped her shirt off over her head, and yanked her pants down over her thighs, kicking them off gracelessly as she ran, leaping off a small overhang into the cool water with a noisy splash. Twenty feet out she reappeared with a gasp, red hair dark and plastered to her face, and tread water. Her eye sought Keilos, and found him not far off, and swimming toward her. She leaped nearly halfway out of the water throwing herself at him and wrapped her arms and legs around his body. "Keiiilos." She tasted the lakewater on his mouth.

"You're late."

Dragging him closer to the shore, Ysani stopped just past the place where her feet touched bottom and dug her toes in the sand. "I know, I'm sorry. Vranesh almost caught me jumping out the window. He lectured me for a good hour before I could get away... luckily, he didn't seem to suspect any immediate mischief."

Keilos snorted. "What's he got to lecture you about, anyway? You work harder than he does, and doing far more important things. It's jealousy, I'm telling you."

She shrugged and pulled him in closer, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead affectionately. "He said I ought to 'present a less slovenly appearance' in public, even if I'm just going out for a jog. Some other things about timeliness of paperwork- he asked about you, too. I guess he doesn't know about us." She blushed faintly, remembering the sneering words that accompanied the inquiry. Tell me, Cloudbreaker, does Dawnstar still stay out at all hours, drinking the taverns dry and fucking anything with a pulse? She'd meted out punishment for his crassness on the spot, knuckles meeting aristocratic nose with a dull (and disturbingly moist) crunch. He'd bent over to save his shirt, blood dripping a steady tattoo on the rusty cobblestones of the common, cursing, and she ran, leaping over a nearby bench to duck a pair of bored-looking city guards in their crisp red and gold uniforms.

"Ysani...?" His concerned voice broke her reverie and she smiled brightly.

"It's nothing, just got a little distracted. Where's the soap?"

Sunday, November 15, 2009

RP: A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 6

A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 6
Author: Ysani

Ysani leaped lightly from Keltyr's bedroom window and pulled it shut behind her, empty box inside the waterproof bag in her hand. She stripped the smelly gloves off with a grimace and chucked them into the bag, then unknotted the kerchief tied snugly under her nose and it followed the gloves. From inside a manicured shrub just beside the window she pulled another bag and crammed the first inside it, tying it off to contain the stronger smell. That done, she took her first deep breath since turning the key in Keltyr's lock and beginning her task, dropping chunks of fungus in everything.

AAAGH. So disgusting. She gagged remembering the full power of the stench, even dulled with the strong and cooling peppermint oil it was a ripe and rank entity of its own. She paused and peered in the window, momentary guilt squeezing her belly, then shrugged and picked up the bag, ready to dash to their meeting point on foot (her charger was not fond of the smell, either). For Ysani, it was always a pleasure to run, and in these raggy old clothes she felt extraordinarily unburdened, as though she could fly. A quick jog out of the alleyway and she smacked into an obstruction and fell on her ass.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Madame Cloudbreaker. What sort of trouble are we getting into today?" Vranesh looked her up and down as she scrambled to her feet. And hadn't she filled out since he last saw her, grown muscular on a slim frame? She didn't avoid his gaze with a meek duck of the head as he would have expected. Instead, she glared up at him with baleful fire in her green eye. Her hair appeared to have been brushed recently, he noted with vague surprise.

"If you're finished creeping around alleys on my blind side, sir, I've got somewhere to be."

"Oh? And what exactly are you doing here, darting out of alleys dressed like a street urchin in her pajamas..? What's in the bag?"

Her pulse nearly doubled at that, but it didn't show. She held the bag a little closer to him, hoping he would catch a whiff of the former contents. The revolted look on his face told her yes, he had. "Just taking out the trash on my afternoon jog, sir. As you can probably tell, it needed doing. Yes?" She took no small amount of satisfaction from the horrified look on his face.

Meanwhile, Vranesh was observing her. She twitched, and he smiled. "Come with me, Cloudbreaker. We have a little catching up to do, you and I." Her heart rose up into her throat. Did he just catch me...? Am I in trouble for something else? Another thought occured to her, and she growled low in her throat as she followed him across the square.

... he's delaying me just to be a dick.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

RP: A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 5

A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 5
Author: Keilos

Keilos looked down at the sealed bag at his feet, then looked around the room. It hadn't taken him overly long to locate Dorri and Keltyr's apartment – after all, he'd just had to count doors down from his own, then step out on his balcony to make sure the balconies squared with the doors before he started out. Climbing from one balcony to the next three stories up had made him nervous, especially when the bag shifted in his grip and he had to make some very fast adjustments or risk either dropping it or falling himself. When he'd arrived on their balcony, it had taken a few minutes of fishing with the long, thin metal ruler he used to block out illuminations to unhook the latch on the door and let himself in. And now, here he was, in the Dalaran rooms of his superior officers, about to do something he really probably shouldn't.

Well, best get started. Those two won't stay gone forever, and I have a redhead that will be waiting for me. To start with, he pulled a small bundle from his pants pocket and unrolled it, revealing a small bottle wrapped in a bandana. Folding the cloth, the young knight unscrewed the top on the bottle and tipped a few drops of the liquid inside on it. The bracing scent of peppermint filled the air as Keilos stoppered the bottle and slipped it back in his pocket. He tied the cloth around his face to cover his nose and mouth and then began to untie the knots that held the bag shut.

The peppermint oil didn't completely kill the stench of the fungus – Keilos was starting to think it would take a vampire hunter with a stake and hammer to do that – but it helped enormously. Quickly, the young knight retrieved a towel from the bathing chamber and used it to block the bottom of the door that led to the hallways of the sense in treating the rest of the residents on this floor to this. Once that was done, Keilos Dawnstar began the careful work of fungal sabotage, dropping pieces of the smelly stuff in boots, shoes, and dresser drawers.

In the closet, he found several hangers occupied by Dorri's dresses. Keilos pondered them momentarily, thinking of some of the conversations over the goblin stone he'd heard that had involved the garments. After a few more seconds of consideration, the young knight shucked the outer bag off the package he'd brought in with him. Turning the sack inside-out, he gathered the dresses into it and tied the bag shut with a bit of string, leaving the odd-looking package supported by the clothes hangers the gowns were on. There. They may get wrinkled, but at least they won't get ruined.

As he finished his foray into chemical warfare, Keilos realized that the peppermint oil on the bandana was doing much less against the stench than it had when he'd started. Light, that stuff is strong. I best finish up and get out of here before I start reeking too much myself. A few more pieces of fungus dropped in various spots, and he was done. Quickly, he gathered up the bag and his ruler and exited the room the way he came in – the balcony, making sure to shut the double doors well behind him.

After a second, less heart-stopping trek across the balconies to his own room, Keilos shucked off gloves and bandana and stuffed them in the bag that had held the fungus. At his feet, Elphi mewed protestingly at the odor.

“I know, girl. It reeks. But now, we're off – and we can get rid of this stuff and meet Ysani.” Lifting the cat to his shoulder, Kei made sure his own balcony door was locked and braced with his desk chair – after all, if he could think to get to their room that way, his superiors could certainly think to return the favor. Then, cat and elf ducked out the door, locking the entry behind them and racing for the portal to Silvermoon.

* * *

Keilos fed a little more tinder to the small campfire, then a piece or two more of wood. I'd have preferred the bath-houses for this...but we couldn't get rid of the rest of the evidence there. Once the fire was crackling merrily, the knight began to shuck off the clothing he'd used for the prank and tossed the garments on the blaze, followed promptly by the sack that had held the ammunition. For a moment, he and Elphi had identical expressions on their faces as whiffs of the scent from the fire hit them. Then, Kei fished soap out of the bundles they'd hidden beneath the bushes and dove into the small, sun-dappled Eversong pool.

But then, the bath-houses wouldn't have been quite this much fun. As he scrubbed the scent out of his skin and hair in the waterfall-fed pond, Keilos hoped Ysani would arrive soon.