|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 12:58 pm
Jóna had to infer what he meant from contextual clues. It took her a moment, unsure what a "gaydar" was, although she thought she had heard the root of the term used by humans before in reference to homosexuality. Suddenly it snapped into place.
"Oh," she said simply. "No wonder you made the knife so ugly."
She felt good having unraveled that mystery and smiled without sarcasm this time.
"And the trees and flowers and...you're right. I should have noticed. I apologize."
His style was on the flamboyant side, which she wasn't all accustomed to. That trait showed more promanently in humans, so she might have paid more attention. Elves didn't factor preference into their style or behaviors. Dwarves did, probably more than humans. Orcs even less.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 1:08 pm
"Well the knife did reflect your personality," he snapped then grinned.
Lance sat back. The flowers were turning into pretty colors, each petal a different shade. Purples and golds, blues and silvers, all shimmering. The melons faded away, replaced by smaller blossoms.
He waved off her apology. "I suppose I have been paying a little bit more attention to the girl. It was an easy mistake. My apologies."
He wondered if Riasha had actually felt that way about him. Nah, he figured.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 3:20 pm
Riasha listened to all of this for a bit. Piecing things together, she doesn't actually protest anything at this point. She doesn't seem to care that Lance is gay or not; she hadn't been looking for a relationship of any particular kind, and certainly not a physical one.
"Would you really say you can just 'tell' if someone is gay or not?" she asks curiously. It's not really something that she knows much about personally, but evidently she's heard the term before, unlike some other things.
She looks to Jóna and shakes her head slightly. "He is right that you are overly aggressive and negative about people," she notes. "I don't have to be like you, or the people in your culture, to have worth. And I don't have to be aggressive to respect myself." She smiles faintly. "It's not how I was raised, and I'm content with that." Folding her arms across her chest, she looks between the two of you. "It sounds like neither of you are from places that have tight knit families that will do almost anything for each other. This seems to make you angry. But, until the last week, I didn't have a reason to be angry. I didn't have a need to rebel against anything because I was happy."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 3:49 pm
Grinning, she said, "You made her flowers, dresses, and jewelry. What was I supposed to infer?" Giggling at her own error, she let it go and rejoined the table.
Riasha wasn't done being offended though. Hand raised, she mimicked her talking with her hand with a heavy roll of her eyes. "Do you ever tire of justifying yourself or your life to me? Has it not occurred to you that I quit listening ages ago?"
The crack about her family made her laugh again. "You think I'm angry because I think your family is closer than mine? Do you even hear yourself? Or perhaps you simply think I'm angry because my family isn't close and wouldn't do anything for each other. You're wrong on either account, but I still don't know what goes through that empty shell above your shoulders."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 3:58 pm
"Then don't bother saying you don't care," Riasha replies, shrugging her shoulders. She gives the other woman a long, thoughtful look, lips twitching slightly. She doesn't say anything further on the subject, though she does appear to be somewhat disappointed. Not offended though. Perhaps just a little tired of being misinterpreted each time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 4:59 pm
[[SUP BITCHEZZZZ emotion_awesome ]] Yakov & Ruslan The cold air swirled and nipped at their barren necks as they paraded down a dampened street along the outskirts of Volgograd. Yakov, a staggering 6'6 and 260lbs, swung the weight of his arm carelessly around his comrade's shoulder. Ruslan, of a much leaner build, barely met his eyes at 6'2. He felt another powerful pat of Yakov's arm into his back, causing him to stumble forward. Ruslan managed to catch himself on the door handle to the bar. "Yakova~" he droned, unable to keep from giggling, "You're going to make me trip," though the idea of tripping was still hilarious to him. Yakov laughed, "Then trip into my arms, handsome." He grabbed the door handle and swung it open with one erratic drunken motion. "MY PEOPLE!" he yelled before leaning back and stepping inside, tilting back his head to take the last swig of alcohol from his bottle. Ruslan walked inside with him, wincing as he heard the bottle shatter against a wall when it was cast aside. His laughter tapered and he brought a hand to rub his eyes. "But the night is so young," he whined to himself. How on earth could their drunken stupor have ended them up in a place like this? Yakov paid little attention, if any, to the bizarre surroundings that starkly contrasted what he knew of the Russian Empire of 1809. His eyes saw the bar, discerned the row of alcoholic bottles behind it, and readily brought his feet stomping towards it. Ruslan looked around the strange cafe as he followed suit. Then, a flicker of something small caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Vision not quite blurry enough, he made out the figure of a small cat wandering about the floor. Like a child, he gasped with delight and outstretched both hands, fingers wiggly. "Kittyyyya~" he murmured in a baby's voice, "C'mere, c'mere," he cooed. Gently, the kitten was picked from the floor and cradled in his arms with a mew and a purr. Having found a new companion, Ruslan found a seat next to his comrade who had already begun making demands. Ruslan gently stroked it behind its ears and along its head, completely mesmerized. Yakov found a stray glass half-full of a drink and swiped it from the counter, downing it in an instant. He curled his nose, never having quite tasted such a beverage before. "You've got a lot of man to fill today!" he shouted, waving an arm in the air. His freakishly large and muscular Siberian presence was usually enough to get him what he wanted in any establishment without much use for words, regardless of the guns he kept holstered at his sides. Growing more drunkenly impatient by the moment, he looked around for someone that looked capable of fetching him the copious amount of liquor he desired for the night; or perhaps something else. His silvery eyes were immediately drawn to the scantily-clad woman sitting at a table from across the room. Her figure was toned and tantalizing, with an exotic face to match. He paid no mind to the other strangely dressed people that accompanied her. He was hungry, and what was assumed to be a prostitute looked appetizing. "Ay," he shouted in their direction, motioning for her to come over. "I've got more than enough work for you tonight, love."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 5:18 pm
Two bear sized humans staggered loudly through the door, garnering Jóna's immediate attention. While they were about the average size of an elf, they were extraordinarily large for human men, who tended to be eye level or shorter than herself. She smiled over at them, amused by their boasting, one of them immediately fancying Dahlia. The other beckoned to her.
"I don't work here," she called, throwing her bare feet up on the table in front of her and filling her glass from the ale pitcher she had in front of her. "Perhaps if you ask nicely enough I would share." She toasted him with her glass and took a long swallow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 5:22 pm
The men who walk in seem to be quite a contrast to Riasha, and though she had been coming out of her shell a bit, she appears to be somewhat stunned at their presence. She watches with a bit of curiosity as one of them beckons Jóna over. She isn't sure how the elf will take that. But even though the woman has been pretty antagonistic to her at times, she wouldn't want to see her harmed, so she's slightly tense. Still, she moves over to the one with Dahlia and moves to stroke the kitten as well, since the little one had taken a fancy to her earlier. Sweet little thing. It looks much tinier compared to this man than compared to herself. But she doesn't know the man, so she's not sure if he's the kind who will harm the kitten, either by design or by accident. So far, it looks promising, however, the way he's cooing to her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 5:32 pm
Yakov & Ruslan Yakov heard the woman call back to him from the table, rather than joining him on his lap like he had hoped. He grinned deviously. "Your work is in my lap," he gestured to himself as if he was the finest thing earth ever had to offer in terms of men, and his stacks of bulky muscle put him high on the tier of 'best male specimen.' "Come here and I'll fill that pitcher for you as many times as you like as well." He shot her as much of a wink as his facial muscles could manage to articulate. Meanwhile, Ruslan had already gotten to work on their drinks. A bartender had reluctantly made their way over, fearing the consequences of an unhappy drunken Yakov more than a contented one. The lanky weirdo with the cat seemed to be considerably less of a threat. Ruslan started rattling off drink after drink, so much so that his eyes caught her taking out a pen and note pad. "We'll need four of those to get us started," he began. "Ooh, and some milk." His last request caused her movements to stutter and she looked up from the list of liquor. Once she saw how engrossed he was with the cat, she pieced together who the milk was for. "Right away," she said unenthused. Then, a figure approached from behind him and a hand reached to touch the cat in his arms. Ruslan gave a half-startled turn toward Riasha. "Oh, is your cat?" he asked, not wanting to seem rude. His fingers fluffed through its fur as he held it. "I think he likes me," he cooed. He too focused on the bundle of adorable to notice that this woman didn't have much clothing to her as well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 5:44 pm
Jóna quite deliberately crossed her ankles, smile growing slowly over the lip of her glass. Finally, somebody interesting. It didn't promise more than a sloppy backroom plunder, but that wasn't to say she wasn't interested.
"I only give back as good as I get. I doubt you could make a virgin squeal, drunk as you are."
Which was strictly true, but pricking a drunk man's ego was usually a sure-fire way of upping the stakes. Competition, might also work to improve the deal.
"Tell me, is your friend part of the bargain? Maybe between the two of you, you might figure something out," She cocked her head to the side, curls dipping across her forehead, tongue poised behind her teeth as she grinned over at him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 5:50 pm
"That actually hasn't been decided exactly," Riasha explains to the lankier of the two Russians (not that she knows what a Russian is). "She was offered to me as a pet, but I wasn't sure that I'd be able to care for her properly. We were discussing the situation when the conversation got side-tracked," she says honestly enough with a polite, slightly shy, smile. "She is a very sweet little thing though, isn't she?" she asks wistfully.
At the moment she's mostly ignoring Jóna. Which might be as well. In many ways the two women are like night and day. They certainly have different ways of looking at the world.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 6:00 pm
Yakov & Ruslan When Yakov heard Jóna's proposition for a threesome, it caught him off guard, then caused him to erupt into laughter. Ruslan peered curiously over his shoulder, giggling because his comrade was laughing, but having completely missed why he was laughing in the first place. "Sweetheart," he slurred with a cocky tilt of his head, "When you see what's underneath these trousers, you'll realize why there isn't room for three." His gaze darted toward Ruslan. "I would share," he offered, "but she won't be walking afterward." Yakov gave an innocent shrug, his hands up and palms facing the ceiling. Ruslan curled his mouth into a frown and raised his brows, nodding in agreement. "Is true!" he chimed in. His drunken giggles soon returned. "She doesn't know how they do it in Siberia." Yakov laughed at his friend before taking a newly poured shot of vodka from the counter. Feeling what only felt like drops graze down his throat, he quickly turned around to face the bar. He groaned and leaned over to grab a pitcher of beer that had been placed on the other end of the bar. "Rubbish," he scowled as he tossed the contents of the pitcher back and onto the floor. "Fill this," he demanded loudly, gesturing toward the woman that was pouring the vodka for them. Ruslan smirked to himself as he downed a shot of vodka himself. "No, they don't know Siberians here." His attention then returned to the woman standing before him. He nodded, "Then is mine," with a smile. "I wonder what I will call him..." he pondered aloud.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 6:31 pm
Jóna didn't acknowledge how drunk she was. Wobbling when she stood up should have been a sure indication. She stretched out her long, toned body languidly, putting on a little bit of a show--she did intend on getting a plunder out of this, after all. Relaxing, she sauntered--sort of--over to Yakov and ran one hand along his broad shoulders and the other between his legs, giving the definition there a measuring squeeze.
"Well, well. Bigger than most humans. I'd say on par with the average orc. Adequate for my purposes," she cooed, managing not to slurr. "We'll see how Siberia measures to the swamp."
And hell, who was she kidding? She was dying in two days anyway. If she couldn't walk for one of them, it would still be worth it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 6:49 pm
"I believe the kitten is a she," Riasha says softly, though she isn't going to make much of an issue over it. "What, or where, is Siberia?" she asks. So far she's gotten some rebukes for asking questions, but until this man does the same, she's more than willing to keep talking. "There's no such place near my lands as far as I can tell and I have traveled a lot in the area."
She only flushes a little at Jóna's antics with the larger of the two men. It was like those elven hands just couldn't resist grabbing at male bits, real or imagined. While some of the women in her troupe were of salacious character, they were usually a bit more subtle than the elf.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 16, 2015 7:25 pm
Lance looked around wildly. He must have dozed off, and who could blame him? Their conversation was rather boring, and he didn't want to waste his time explaining exactly why he had been showering Riasha with gifts.
Seeing the new people in the cafe made him yearn for Valentine. Ah, dammit, why couldn't he be here instead of them? They were getting rather drunk, and Lance shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Maybe he and Riasha could separate themselves from the others, Jóna and whoever the others were. His flowers that hung on the plants burst from the purple, gold, silver, and blue into orange, yellow, red, and black with his nervousness.
He hoped there wasn't going to be a drunken fight. He didn't want to have to try and stop it. These people could be anyone, and he didn't want to risk pissing off the wrong people.
He leaned to Riasha and whispered, "Who are they?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
