The Solterran Girl
“I hear there is a great hotspring in Arma mountains, is that true?” The horse on the floor groans when Emersyn puts her hoof on his shoulder and shoves him back down.
The gunmetal girl glances down to admire her work, but she gets a good look at her lovely lady’s legs. She can see how peachy and creamy Bexley’s flesh is, and distracts herself wondering if Bexley tastes as dangerous as she looks - oh, and the asshole that tried to confront them is still down there too, swearing and slobbering-drunk.
Red. Brown. Spot. Stripe. Nevermind the White, the target has been dealt with. Emersyn has quickly organized each member of the room and assigned them a taste, color, or texture to remember them by. She’ll forget them all soon after the moment has passed, but for now they are remembered in the order in which they will fall - if they insist with the pursuit of conflict.
Several shady grays hang out in the backdrop of the room, they appear to take no interest in the fight, thank Calligo. Emersyn returns her eyes to Bexley and smirks at her, both playful and daring, she came to find peace but finds herself in another turbulent evening - at least this time, the company is worth it. Even still, Emersyn cannot get out of this hole fast enough. Her blood feels like quicksilver in her veins, cooling, calming .. intoxicating. There is an unreasonable anger lurking beneath all that calm, and she'd rather not bathe to get the blood out of her hair tonight.
"Delumine is too quiet .. even with all the flute players."
More provocations happen; cat calls thread their way in and out of the buzz, big talk boasting bravado, jealousy flare-ups paint themselves in black-eyed stares. Emersyn doesn’t let a sound move past her ears but neither does she absorb their burning gazes. Her attention towards Bexley is held above them all, and their own conversation is a vibrant, sparkling chaos compared to the dull crowd that aggravates because of them.
Bexley’s words motivate Emersyn with her words, the power that resonates between them is compatible at best - iron and fire. Emersyn feels inspired to delight Bexley however she can, even in her own awkward and somewhat barbaric ways. “Then we better make sure this feels like a vacation for you,” Emersyn’s expression does not lift or sway or change in the context of her words, nothing seems to bother the soldier about the moment they are having together. In fact, being pressed against Bexley like this is preferable, even for such an aggravating situation. Emersyn thinks that she feels like silk and liquid sunlight.
Bexley lets her curls down and it is nearly a spell, and Emersyn narrowly misses the first movement against them. She has to duck to miss the teeth and gets shoved back by the Red - so predictable. Someone else gets kicked, hard, and runs howling. Emersyn has no time to apologize to Bexley for getting shoved into her by avoiding altercation, and doesn’t think she needs to - the girl stacks herself like she knows the taste of violence.
If only Emersyn knew.
“That said, there are other things I’d rather be doing right now .. ” Emersyn’s eyes burn in the dimming firelight, with you, they seem to say on their own.
Two more flank the intrepid pair from behind. Back to back, Bexley and Emersyn are a double threat, a machine made for something these men cannot even begin to imagine. A sword in the flames.
"I'm ready to get out of here. You ready?"
The gunmetal girl glances down to admire her work, but she gets a good look at her lovely lady’s legs. She can see how peachy and creamy Bexley’s flesh is, and distracts herself wondering if Bexley tastes as dangerous as she looks - oh, and the asshole that tried to confront them is still down there too, swearing and slobbering-drunk.
Red. Brown. Spot. Stripe. Nevermind the White, the target has been dealt with. Emersyn has quickly organized each member of the room and assigned them a taste, color, or texture to remember them by. She’ll forget them all soon after the moment has passed, but for now they are remembered in the order in which they will fall - if they insist with the pursuit of conflict.
Several shady grays hang out in the backdrop of the room, they appear to take no interest in the fight, thank Calligo. Emersyn returns her eyes to Bexley and smirks at her, both playful and daring, she came to find peace but finds herself in another turbulent evening - at least this time, the company is worth it. Even still, Emersyn cannot get out of this hole fast enough. Her blood feels like quicksilver in her veins, cooling, calming .. intoxicating. There is an unreasonable anger lurking beneath all that calm, and she'd rather not bathe to get the blood out of her hair tonight.
"Delumine is too quiet .. even with all the flute players."
More provocations happen; cat calls thread their way in and out of the buzz, big talk boasting bravado, jealousy flare-ups paint themselves in black-eyed stares. Emersyn doesn’t let a sound move past her ears but neither does she absorb their burning gazes. Her attention towards Bexley is held above them all, and their own conversation is a vibrant, sparkling chaos compared to the dull crowd that aggravates because of them.
Bexley’s words motivate Emersyn with her words, the power that resonates between them is compatible at best - iron and fire. Emersyn feels inspired to delight Bexley however she can, even in her own awkward and somewhat barbaric ways. “Then we better make sure this feels like a vacation for you,” Emersyn’s expression does not lift or sway or change in the context of her words, nothing seems to bother the soldier about the moment they are having together. In fact, being pressed against Bexley like this is preferable, even for such an aggravating situation. Emersyn thinks that she feels like silk and liquid sunlight.
Bexley lets her curls down and it is nearly a spell, and Emersyn narrowly misses the first movement against them. She has to duck to miss the teeth and gets shoved back by the Red - so predictable. Someone else gets kicked, hard, and runs howling. Emersyn has no time to apologize to Bexley for getting shoved into her by avoiding altercation, and doesn’t think she needs to - the girl stacks herself like she knows the taste of violence.
If only Emersyn knew.
“That said, there are other things I’d rather be doing right now .. ” Emersyn’s eyes burn in the dimming firelight, with you, they seem to say on their own.
Two more flank the intrepid pair from behind. Back to back, Bexley and Emersyn are a double threat, a machine made for something these men cannot even begin to imagine. A sword in the flames.
"I'm ready to get out of here. You ready?"
