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 Posted: Sat Jul 05, 2014 8:27 pm
Dusk had settled over Palisade, casting a rosy glow over the central city. A scorching summer day promised a warm evening, and despite the loom of darkness, the streets were still busy, men and women sauntering idly. It was a welcome change from a year past, when Gwyn threatened Sunderland with his presence and the townsfolk were far to frightened to linger outside for longer than an hour. In his silence, the community seemed more at ease, but the cautious shift of their gazes was unmistakable still.
Ophelia had found the announcement of the fae more annoying than startling. A lack of clients had followed last year's Masquerade, but with the pass of an uneventful winter, business had resumed and once more, her pockets were heavy with coin. Feeling rather celebratory - and unwilling to remain inside the brothel, where the heat was stifling - the young prostitute had decided to take the evening off, intent on instead allowing the night to whisk her away into a state of mindless drifting. Where would she go, what would she do? She had little idea, nor any intentions of forming a plan; rather, she was thrilled at the possibility of an adventure.
For the moment, she sat off on the side of the street, perched on a low stone wall, where she could watch the sun droop in comfort. She was dressed simply, and in a way that clearly told of her place in society - her tight corset held her breasts aloft and emphasized the curve of her waist, her skirts falling well above her ankles - but the fabrics were rich, and she held an air of elegance. Despite her seedy title, Ophelia was proud and pampered her beauty, holding herself to a higher standard.
She was just slipping her shoes on when she glanced up to catch sight of a handsome young man and his dazzling doe. A guardian, she knew, and her red lips curled. Large, deep set eyes watched them pass, and at the last moment, before the man could slip away, she pursed those lips to whistle, capturing the fleeting attention of all near. But her gaze was fixated on the young man, and she tossed her curls as she held her shoe out his way, uncrossing her legs to hold her bare foot aloft. "Oh darling, be my prince and help a damsel out?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 05, 2014 10:06 pm
Since their mother had fallen ill, the Tiller boys had found themselves grounded, morally obligated to remain in Palisade to care for her while their father fled the see on the Amaranta. That Rob and Ollie loved the ship as much as their father did was never in question, but they loved their mother more. She had become bedbound in recent months, leaving her sons to take care of the house - a responsibility neither had prepared for in their years out at sea.
It was Ollie's turn today for two important errands: Pick up mother's medicine and bring home bread from the baker. He had just collected both, sauntering down the street with his cheerful Taxes dancing alongside. The golden doe missed the constant sway of the deck as much as he, but they kept each other's spirits up with jokes and mischief and the occasional gamble as they passed through the city square. Theirs was a partnership that simply worked, in every possible aspect of the word.
Ollie was just about to playfully shove Taxes into the street to watch her dodge an oncoming carriage when a sharp whistle caught his ear. His head swung toward the voice that called out, his gaze alighting upon the young woman, dressed just so - so that he knew exactly why she was there - in a corset and revealing skirts. And oohhh...
Now there's a woman, eh, Taxes? She takes care of 'erself, this one, he thought to the doe as his step faltered. Any other day, any other place, and he wouldn't have so much as hesitated. But he could already hear his brother's admonitions in his head.
You stopped to do what?
Is your wiener more important than our mother?
Stop living life between your legs, you fool!
"Ah, but she called me a prince, Taxes," he muttered with no small amount of desire coloring his words. "You... Y'can't let the damsel take care've 'erself..."
He saw Taxes catch his eye and knew in an instant she was going to be a bad influence. There was such cheek in her glance, such laughter in the very way she nodded her head and shoved her head against his leg to nudge him in the woman's direction... He knew it was a bad idea.
But that was why he had Taxes.
He clutched the medicine and the loaf of bread to his side, his eyes drawn inexplicably to that taunting bare foot. "I think I can do more'n help, m'love. I'll fix whate'er it is y'need fixin'."
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Posted: Sun Jul 06, 2014 10:55 pm
She watched as he conversed with his guardian, one shoe still held patiently for him, should he choose to take it. Her gaze didn't stray from him, and there was laughter in those eyes when his beautiful doe aided him in his decision, encouraging him forward. She forgave his hesitation, lips curled sweetly, "Mm, you promise?" She leaned forward, chest out, head cocked to the side to reveal the curve of her neck. She fluttered her eyelashes, the seduction coming easy to her.
But luring him back inside for an evening of passion wasn't her intention, not quite. Tonight, she was off the clock, and he wasn't a client. If she undressed for him before dawn, it wouldn't be for his coin.
Her eyes wandered briefly to gaze longingly at his doe, and then flickered back to meet the gaze of the young man. She was growing tired of holding her shoe out, of keeping her foot up, so dressing that foot was certainly the first order of business. "Well my prince, I would be ever so grateful if you could slip my shoe on. You see, I simply have the hardest of times with that clasp." No she didn't, not really. But she enjoyed his eyes on her, and so to keep his attention, she would use any excuse.
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 4:15 pm
"Oh, I can promise y'anything, lassie, and maybe make a liar o' myself," he said and grinned. Her subtle gestures were not lost on him, but he seemed perfectly alright with the fact that she was reeling him in for something or other. He was letting her do it, after all, and the chase was half the fun. "Sailor's word might not mean much down th'line, but I can still be your prince in the moment, if y'want."
Ollie met her gaze with cocked brow and that perennial smile of his, not quite as inherently disarming as his brother's but warm anyway and exuding the kind of cheer that only Ollie could manage. The entire world was his friend, and he didn't seem capable of harboring any initial mistrust toward anyone. He wasn't rich enough to carry much material wealth on him and didn't seem to care enough if he lost it, which meant he had little to lose. It was the way Ollie preferred it.
"I can relieve you of the burden, lovely," he replied, dropping to a knee and reaching for the shoe. His hand gently grasped her ankle as he slid the shoe into place and fastened the clasp, and if his touch lingered a little, if he let his thumb slip feather-light over her ankle as he let her go, well. Only the devious smile on his face bore any evidence of that.
He fixed his gaze upon her face again, tracing the curve of her lips and her cheeks with his eyes. "And what, if I may, should a... poor excuse for a prince call his lady?"
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