The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
At the age of thirteen Vangelis had been sent down in the mines of Colchis by his father. The first of his brothers to go but the dozenth or so of his family to complete the tradition, Vangelis had assumed when he had been allowed back to the surface to see the sun some six months later, that he had seen all there was to see of human suffering.
The mines had been dark, dank and offered a constant, putrid smell of human waste and sweat. He had been reduced down to being a human among others of his ilk. Not a prince, or a lord, or the brother of his siblings or the son of his mother. He had not been Vangelis of Kotas but simple a man of limited substance. Able to offer and contend with only his rare physical strength. No title, wealth or lands were going to save him from the hours of laborious work to be completely day in and day out. Then again, they weren't even certain if it was every day. There was no sun by which to offer a marker and Vangelis only knew how long he had been down there once told upon his return. That and the length of his hair which he had allowed to grow without check.
Down beneath the earth of Midas, Vangelis had learnt what it meant to be a man. Solely a man, without addition or luxury. Just Vangelis. No family name attached.
Six months later he had left with his father on his first military campaign. At the age of fourteen, he had been taken abroad with King Tython in order to put down an insurgent force in the north. This was one of the first battles Colchis had ever waged across the sea towards the northern mainland. Their battles previously had been in the eastern lands, towards Persia. This time, however, the enemy had come from the colder and harsher northern lands and had, according the spymasters of his father's court, been congregating on the edge of the sea and on the eve of battle.
The barbarian hordes, it was reported, were waiting for the opportune moment, building ships and vessels in which to cross the Aegean and sending scouting parties disguised as fishermen to inspect the lay of the Kirakles Isles, seeking a safe harbour of port where best to begin an invading onslaught.
They had tipped their hand too far, however, sought information too hungrily... for their actions had alerted the Colchian spies beneath the Master Informer, who had then passed the information to the king. And lo and behold a Colchian force of such power and dominance and been amassed in record time. For there was no call to arms like a Colchian call to arms. Men would not hesitate in standing and fighting with their king, regardless of ulterior circumstances.
As such, the army with which King Tython had approached the north had been large. Momentous in its power and the damage it might inflict.
It was only after they had arrived on the beaches of the continent that Vangelis had realised their force was not one designed to quash the rising disturbances among their enemies. It was to be used to eradicate them entirely. To send a message that would go down the chronicles of the history of Colchis. That no force would ever breech their waters or invade their lands. No matter their intent or their careful planning.
Despite advanced numbers, however, more units of enemy forces had travelled down from further inland and the wars had continued on and off for nearly four years. Vangelis grew in that time from a boy to a man and, by the time there was a level of peace stable enough for him to return home, he had little knowledge of who he was anymore.
The mines had taught him that he was but a human. The wars had taught him that he was but a number. One man with which to kill as many others as was humanly possible, until Hades decided to take him next.
For that had been made abundantly clear to Vangelis once the fighting had started.
You could train as hard as you wanted, learn every weapon and attack. Perfect your stances, your strikes and your parries. But in reality - when the battle begun and the entire world went to shit around you... it was the Gods that decided your fate. It had to be. Because there was no other logic or reason to it.
So, the idea was to make your life worth it. To make your one, singular existence strong enough to eradicate more than one elsewhere. So that your side of the fight, in the end, emerged victorious simply for a pure game of numbers.
In sailing back to Colchis, Vangelis had been quieter than usual. While he had never been chatty, it was disposition that seemed quiet over his lack of verbose. He would sit on the deck of the ship, his back to some corner and play with a strand of rope between his fingers. He would coil and uncoil the pieces that made up the whole, conscious that each piece did not make a usable product until combined with its brethren. Perhaps that's what life was about. Not your own existence and your own path... but the contribution you made in tandem with others...
The soldiers around him had joked and jostled, insisting that the young prince was just a little war torn... uncertain of his place. Survivor's guilt, one person called it. But he did not feel guilty for surviving the war effort. What he felt was uncertain as to why he had been allowed to do so.
had the Gods decided on a different path for him? Had it been the influence of his family and blood that had saved his life. He had thought he had held his own on several battlefields but he had only been a boy for some of it. Not nearly his full height or breadth or possessing even the strength he did now. Had he really been skilled enough to survive in his own right, or had his men countered for his inexperience? Had their babied him? Fighting before him to thin the herd? Had he not noticed the behaviour to make his own experience of combat easier?
He did not know.
And it was the not knowing that was making his mind drift and his body uncomfortable. Like he didn't deserve it. Like he should be rotting somewhere on a darkened field of death with all the others who had fallen in conflict.
Rolling his shoulders where he sat, as they were about to pull into port, one of the sailors come soldiers he was with moved over to stand beside the prince.
"Find yourself a tavern, my Lord." The man told him around a scar that sliced threw one eye down his cheek and across both his lips. The man had seen some horrors. You could tell by the experience in his voice more than the evidence on his face. "You need to reacquaint yourself with life." the man continued... "Go have a drink, have a woman... Remind yourself that your here and you're meant to be here." The old soldier slapped Vangelis on the shoulder and then repeated the action. "The Gods want you here, my prince... Don't disgrace their gift by not living as if you are..."
Despite not knowing the man... despite having no real evidence to believe him, despite the fact that he was a lower rung officer on one of his father's war ships - plus that all knowing maturity in his gruff voice - Vangelis decided to take the man at his word.
At this point, it was hard to argue that there wasn't a better option or choice.
Upon arriving in port later afternoon, Vangelis knew that the ship was only stopping to resupply. The cabins beneath their feet were running low on fresh water and a few food essentials. Not the mention that the men had started to become a little homesick and cabin fevery for Colchian soil.
When the captain looked to Vangelis for instruction on what they were to do while in port - for they had still another few days to reach Midas - Vangelis offered a nonchalant shrug.
"We'll leave tomorrow at daybreak." He told the captain as bright smiles started to form on the faces of many of the sailors. Vangelis looked out among them. "Enjoy your night and be back before sunup."
With a cheer from the men whom - from their perspective - had just been given the go ahead by a royal prince to get thoroughly drunk and whore the night away, Vangelis simply stepped aside to allow them off the ship before him before looking out at the town.
Megaris was particularly famous for its seedy underbelly - for the taverns, bars and brothels available to the sailors and slave traders that liked to dock in its port. And Vangelis pursed his lips in consideration only for a moment before he chose to take up the town on its offer and the soldier on his advice.
Hopping off the ship and heading down the main ramp to the dock, Vangelis carried nothing with him besides a long sword - for he had not yet discovered his preference for the curved style of blade favoured by those in the Mesopotamian lands, and a small pouch of gold at his hip.
Having little idea that he was wondering around town with more money on his person than most people there made in a year, Vangelis avoided the main streets where the sailors and soldiers seemed to instantly culminate towards. Clearly Megaris was a family stop for them and they would each have their preferred brothel, drinking establishment or, in fact, whore waiting for them.
Vangelis, on the other hand, had no interest in bedding a woman who had shared her secrets with half of his military unit.
Instead, he went walking through the town, considering the layout of the settlement so that he could find his way back to the docks in the morning (not that they would leave the crown prince behind were he late) and found his way in a nicer, more expensive section of the provincial place.
No-one that he passed stopped to stare or notice him - though a few glanced his way astonished by his impressive height - and it was only when he remembered how long he had been away from the Kirakles Isles that it made sense as to why. It was unlikely that none recognised him as the crown prince of Colchis. His last public appearance had been before he had entered into the mines of his capitol - back when he had but just turned thirteen. While officially an adult, he had been by a boy back then. Scraggly and small - yet to grow into his feet and hands, his hair unruly and his eyes too large for his face. A thin neck, thin wrists and frame that held itself like a prince more than it did as a fighter.
Nowadays, Vangelis stood at six foot two - nearly a foot and a half higher than he would have last been seen at. He now stood in physical proportion, his wrists and neck filled out, his body strong and muscle bound. While he still had yet to carry the ropes of strength that he would gain in years to come, his limbs offered clear tendons and the lines of his muscles. His skeleton was at its full size and the flesh that went on it was hard and toned - even if it hadn't reached the same scale it would in the future. His jaw had filled out, his cheekbones become more prominent and therefore his face had balanced out his eyes. His hair was still unruly and his hands still big but these were simple Kotas genes he could no refute even if he wanted to.
He had also - though Vangelis would not notice it until he returned to Midas and was inspected by the feminine eyes of the court - grown up handsome. A man with the blocky strength and angular features of his father and the softer elements and curving lips of his mother.
While he might not have realised it that night, there would have been no issue in him finding a willing partner in any of the brothels his fellow sailors had decided to patron.
Instead, however, Vangelis of Kotas - the crown prince of the kingdom - had found himself in a mostly high-class residential area of Megaris. About to turn around and head back, his only hindrance to such a decision were the bright lights and suddenly loud voiced of a drinking hole on the end of one of the streets.
Recognising it as a tavern to the slightly more discerning traveller, Vangelis headed in that direction, confident he would not find any of the men he had spent the last two weeks travelling with within its walls. He had interest in sharing combined quarters with them for yet another night longer than was necessary.
The establishment within which he entered was laid out similarly to any other tavern or bar - low or high class. The expanse of wooden surface across the back offered the barrier between bartender and congregation and the tables and chairs scattered amongst the rest of the room sported men of all kinds.
Some appeared to be locals - attending the bar at the end of their week of work or escaping the homestead in order to avoid the wife for a few extra hours. Others appeared to be travellers but the upper scale class of such fellows; the ships' captains, the first mates... the men who would not dine to patronage the same watering hole as their crew.
All in all, the place suited Vangelis just fine and he kept the cowl of the hood of his cloak up and in place, hiding his hair and most of his face from view. He also, surreptitiously removed his signet and House ring from his hand and placed them inside his money pouch. The last thing he needed tonight was for someone to recognise his status and turn the evening into a night of appealing to the higher ends of society for political or financial favours. For once, he just wanted to relax...
After stepping up to the bar at the back of the room and ordering a mead over wine, Vangelis headed to a booth on one side of the room. In the centre of the open space were rounded tables with chairs on spindly legs placed hazardously around them. But along the far wall from the door were booths with rectangular tables sticking out from the wall and benched units standing between.
Sliding into one with his drink, Vangelis tried to sit back and relax, holding his tankard between the palms of his hands and keeping his hood up and in place, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Not that they would recognise him if he did. After all... the last few years had turned Vangelis of Kotas from a boy into a man... No-one would expect such a person to be loitering in a tavern in Megaris...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
War had not been what he had expected.
At the age of thirteen Vangelis had been sent down in the mines of Colchis by his father. The first of his brothers to go but the dozenth or so of his family to complete the tradition, Vangelis had assumed when he had been allowed back to the surface to see the sun some six months later, that he had seen all there was to see of human suffering.
The mines had been dark, dank and offered a constant, putrid smell of human waste and sweat. He had been reduced down to being a human among others of his ilk. Not a prince, or a lord, or the brother of his siblings or the son of his mother. He had not been Vangelis of Kotas but simple a man of limited substance. Able to offer and contend with only his rare physical strength. No title, wealth or lands were going to save him from the hours of laborious work to be completely day in and day out. Then again, they weren't even certain if it was every day. There was no sun by which to offer a marker and Vangelis only knew how long he had been down there once told upon his return. That and the length of his hair which he had allowed to grow without check.
Down beneath the earth of Midas, Vangelis had learnt what it meant to be a man. Solely a man, without addition or luxury. Just Vangelis. No family name attached.
Six months later he had left with his father on his first military campaign. At the age of fourteen, he had been taken abroad with King Tython in order to put down an insurgent force in the north. This was one of the first battles Colchis had ever waged across the sea towards the northern mainland. Their battles previously had been in the eastern lands, towards Persia. This time, however, the enemy had come from the colder and harsher northern lands and had, according the spymasters of his father's court, been congregating on the edge of the sea and on the eve of battle.
The barbarian hordes, it was reported, were waiting for the opportune moment, building ships and vessels in which to cross the Aegean and sending scouting parties disguised as fishermen to inspect the lay of the Kirakles Isles, seeking a safe harbour of port where best to begin an invading onslaught.
They had tipped their hand too far, however, sought information too hungrily... for their actions had alerted the Colchian spies beneath the Master Informer, who had then passed the information to the king. And lo and behold a Colchian force of such power and dominance and been amassed in record time. For there was no call to arms like a Colchian call to arms. Men would not hesitate in standing and fighting with their king, regardless of ulterior circumstances.
As such, the army with which King Tython had approached the north had been large. Momentous in its power and the damage it might inflict.
It was only after they had arrived on the beaches of the continent that Vangelis had realised their force was not one designed to quash the rising disturbances among their enemies. It was to be used to eradicate them entirely. To send a message that would go down the chronicles of the history of Colchis. That no force would ever breech their waters or invade their lands. No matter their intent or their careful planning.
Despite advanced numbers, however, more units of enemy forces had travelled down from further inland and the wars had continued on and off for nearly four years. Vangelis grew in that time from a boy to a man and, by the time there was a level of peace stable enough for him to return home, he had little knowledge of who he was anymore.
The mines had taught him that he was but a human. The wars had taught him that he was but a number. One man with which to kill as many others as was humanly possible, until Hades decided to take him next.
For that had been made abundantly clear to Vangelis once the fighting had started.
You could train as hard as you wanted, learn every weapon and attack. Perfect your stances, your strikes and your parries. But in reality - when the battle begun and the entire world went to shit around you... it was the Gods that decided your fate. It had to be. Because there was no other logic or reason to it.
So, the idea was to make your life worth it. To make your one, singular existence strong enough to eradicate more than one elsewhere. So that your side of the fight, in the end, emerged victorious simply for a pure game of numbers.
In sailing back to Colchis, Vangelis had been quieter than usual. While he had never been chatty, it was disposition that seemed quiet over his lack of verbose. He would sit on the deck of the ship, his back to some corner and play with a strand of rope between his fingers. He would coil and uncoil the pieces that made up the whole, conscious that each piece did not make a usable product until combined with its brethren. Perhaps that's what life was about. Not your own existence and your own path... but the contribution you made in tandem with others...
The soldiers around him had joked and jostled, insisting that the young prince was just a little war torn... uncertain of his place. Survivor's guilt, one person called it. But he did not feel guilty for surviving the war effort. What he felt was uncertain as to why he had been allowed to do so.
had the Gods decided on a different path for him? Had it been the influence of his family and blood that had saved his life. He had thought he had held his own on several battlefields but he had only been a boy for some of it. Not nearly his full height or breadth or possessing even the strength he did now. Had he really been skilled enough to survive in his own right, or had his men countered for his inexperience? Had their babied him? Fighting before him to thin the herd? Had he not noticed the behaviour to make his own experience of combat easier?
He did not know.
And it was the not knowing that was making his mind drift and his body uncomfortable. Like he didn't deserve it. Like he should be rotting somewhere on a darkened field of death with all the others who had fallen in conflict.
Rolling his shoulders where he sat, as they were about to pull into port, one of the sailors come soldiers he was with moved over to stand beside the prince.
"Find yourself a tavern, my Lord." The man told him around a scar that sliced threw one eye down his cheek and across both his lips. The man had seen some horrors. You could tell by the experience in his voice more than the evidence on his face. "You need to reacquaint yourself with life." the man continued... "Go have a drink, have a woman... Remind yourself that your here and you're meant to be here." The old soldier slapped Vangelis on the shoulder and then repeated the action. "The Gods want you here, my prince... Don't disgrace their gift by not living as if you are..."
Despite not knowing the man... despite having no real evidence to believe him, despite the fact that he was a lower rung officer on one of his father's war ships - plus that all knowing maturity in his gruff voice - Vangelis decided to take the man at his word.
At this point, it was hard to argue that there wasn't a better option or choice.
Upon arriving in port later afternoon, Vangelis knew that the ship was only stopping to resupply. The cabins beneath their feet were running low on fresh water and a few food essentials. Not the mention that the men had started to become a little homesick and cabin fevery for Colchian soil.
When the captain looked to Vangelis for instruction on what they were to do while in port - for they had still another few days to reach Midas - Vangelis offered a nonchalant shrug.
"We'll leave tomorrow at daybreak." He told the captain as bright smiles started to form on the faces of many of the sailors. Vangelis looked out among them. "Enjoy your night and be back before sunup."
With a cheer from the men whom - from their perspective - had just been given the go ahead by a royal prince to get thoroughly drunk and whore the night away, Vangelis simply stepped aside to allow them off the ship before him before looking out at the town.
Megaris was particularly famous for its seedy underbelly - for the taverns, bars and brothels available to the sailors and slave traders that liked to dock in its port. And Vangelis pursed his lips in consideration only for a moment before he chose to take up the town on its offer and the soldier on his advice.
Hopping off the ship and heading down the main ramp to the dock, Vangelis carried nothing with him besides a long sword - for he had not yet discovered his preference for the curved style of blade favoured by those in the Mesopotamian lands, and a small pouch of gold at his hip.
Having little idea that he was wondering around town with more money on his person than most people there made in a year, Vangelis avoided the main streets where the sailors and soldiers seemed to instantly culminate towards. Clearly Megaris was a family stop for them and they would each have their preferred brothel, drinking establishment or, in fact, whore waiting for them.
Vangelis, on the other hand, had no interest in bedding a woman who had shared her secrets with half of his military unit.
Instead, he went walking through the town, considering the layout of the settlement so that he could find his way back to the docks in the morning (not that they would leave the crown prince behind were he late) and found his way in a nicer, more expensive section of the provincial place.
No-one that he passed stopped to stare or notice him - though a few glanced his way astonished by his impressive height - and it was only when he remembered how long he had been away from the Kirakles Isles that it made sense as to why. It was unlikely that none recognised him as the crown prince of Colchis. His last public appearance had been before he had entered into the mines of his capitol - back when he had but just turned thirteen. While officially an adult, he had been by a boy back then. Scraggly and small - yet to grow into his feet and hands, his hair unruly and his eyes too large for his face. A thin neck, thin wrists and frame that held itself like a prince more than it did as a fighter.
Nowadays, Vangelis stood at six foot two - nearly a foot and a half higher than he would have last been seen at. He now stood in physical proportion, his wrists and neck filled out, his body strong and muscle bound. While he still had yet to carry the ropes of strength that he would gain in years to come, his limbs offered clear tendons and the lines of his muscles. His skeleton was at its full size and the flesh that went on it was hard and toned - even if it hadn't reached the same scale it would in the future. His jaw had filled out, his cheekbones become more prominent and therefore his face had balanced out his eyes. His hair was still unruly and his hands still big but these were simple Kotas genes he could no refute even if he wanted to.
He had also - though Vangelis would not notice it until he returned to Midas and was inspected by the feminine eyes of the court - grown up handsome. A man with the blocky strength and angular features of his father and the softer elements and curving lips of his mother.
While he might not have realised it that night, there would have been no issue in him finding a willing partner in any of the brothels his fellow sailors had decided to patron.
Instead, however, Vangelis of Kotas - the crown prince of the kingdom - had found himself in a mostly high-class residential area of Megaris. About to turn around and head back, his only hindrance to such a decision were the bright lights and suddenly loud voiced of a drinking hole on the end of one of the streets.
Recognising it as a tavern to the slightly more discerning traveller, Vangelis headed in that direction, confident he would not find any of the men he had spent the last two weeks travelling with within its walls. He had interest in sharing combined quarters with them for yet another night longer than was necessary.
The establishment within which he entered was laid out similarly to any other tavern or bar - low or high class. The expanse of wooden surface across the back offered the barrier between bartender and congregation and the tables and chairs scattered amongst the rest of the room sported men of all kinds.
Some appeared to be locals - attending the bar at the end of their week of work or escaping the homestead in order to avoid the wife for a few extra hours. Others appeared to be travellers but the upper scale class of such fellows; the ships' captains, the first mates... the men who would not dine to patronage the same watering hole as their crew.
All in all, the place suited Vangelis just fine and he kept the cowl of the hood of his cloak up and in place, hiding his hair and most of his face from view. He also, surreptitiously removed his signet and House ring from his hand and placed them inside his money pouch. The last thing he needed tonight was for someone to recognise his status and turn the evening into a night of appealing to the higher ends of society for political or financial favours. For once, he just wanted to relax...
After stepping up to the bar at the back of the room and ordering a mead over wine, Vangelis headed to a booth on one side of the room. In the centre of the open space were rounded tables with chairs on spindly legs placed hazardously around them. But along the far wall from the door were booths with rectangular tables sticking out from the wall and benched units standing between.
Sliding into one with his drink, Vangelis tried to sit back and relax, holding his tankard between the palms of his hands and keeping his hood up and in place, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Not that they would recognise him if he did. After all... the last few years had turned Vangelis of Kotas from a boy into a man... No-one would expect such a person to be loitering in a tavern in Megaris...
War had not been what he had expected.
At the age of thirteen Vangelis had been sent down in the mines of Colchis by his father. The first of his brothers to go but the dozenth or so of his family to complete the tradition, Vangelis had assumed when he had been allowed back to the surface to see the sun some six months later, that he had seen all there was to see of human suffering.
The mines had been dark, dank and offered a constant, putrid smell of human waste and sweat. He had been reduced down to being a human among others of his ilk. Not a prince, or a lord, or the brother of his siblings or the son of his mother. He had not been Vangelis of Kotas but simple a man of limited substance. Able to offer and contend with only his rare physical strength. No title, wealth or lands were going to save him from the hours of laborious work to be completely day in and day out. Then again, they weren't even certain if it was every day. There was no sun by which to offer a marker and Vangelis only knew how long he had been down there once told upon his return. That and the length of his hair which he had allowed to grow without check.
Down beneath the earth of Midas, Vangelis had learnt what it meant to be a man. Solely a man, without addition or luxury. Just Vangelis. No family name attached.
Six months later he had left with his father on his first military campaign. At the age of fourteen, he had been taken abroad with King Tython in order to put down an insurgent force in the north. This was one of the first battles Colchis had ever waged across the sea towards the northern mainland. Their battles previously had been in the eastern lands, towards Persia. This time, however, the enemy had come from the colder and harsher northern lands and had, according the spymasters of his father's court, been congregating on the edge of the sea and on the eve of battle.
The barbarian hordes, it was reported, were waiting for the opportune moment, building ships and vessels in which to cross the Aegean and sending scouting parties disguised as fishermen to inspect the lay of the Kirakles Isles, seeking a safe harbour of port where best to begin an invading onslaught.
They had tipped their hand too far, however, sought information too hungrily... for their actions had alerted the Colchian spies beneath the Master Informer, who had then passed the information to the king. And lo and behold a Colchian force of such power and dominance and been amassed in record time. For there was no call to arms like a Colchian call to arms. Men would not hesitate in standing and fighting with their king, regardless of ulterior circumstances.
As such, the army with which King Tython had approached the north had been large. Momentous in its power and the damage it might inflict.
It was only after they had arrived on the beaches of the continent that Vangelis had realised their force was not one designed to quash the rising disturbances among their enemies. It was to be used to eradicate them entirely. To send a message that would go down the chronicles of the history of Colchis. That no force would ever breech their waters or invade their lands. No matter their intent or their careful planning.
Despite advanced numbers, however, more units of enemy forces had travelled down from further inland and the wars had continued on and off for nearly four years. Vangelis grew in that time from a boy to a man and, by the time there was a level of peace stable enough for him to return home, he had little knowledge of who he was anymore.
The mines had taught him that he was but a human. The wars had taught him that he was but a number. One man with which to kill as many others as was humanly possible, until Hades decided to take him next.
For that had been made abundantly clear to Vangelis once the fighting had started.
You could train as hard as you wanted, learn every weapon and attack. Perfect your stances, your strikes and your parries. But in reality - when the battle begun and the entire world went to shit around you... it was the Gods that decided your fate. It had to be. Because there was no other logic or reason to it.
So, the idea was to make your life worth it. To make your one, singular existence strong enough to eradicate more than one elsewhere. So that your side of the fight, in the end, emerged victorious simply for a pure game of numbers.
In sailing back to Colchis, Vangelis had been quieter than usual. While he had never been chatty, it was disposition that seemed quiet over his lack of verbose. He would sit on the deck of the ship, his back to some corner and play with a strand of rope between his fingers. He would coil and uncoil the pieces that made up the whole, conscious that each piece did not make a usable product until combined with its brethren. Perhaps that's what life was about. Not your own existence and your own path... but the contribution you made in tandem with others...
The soldiers around him had joked and jostled, insisting that the young prince was just a little war torn... uncertain of his place. Survivor's guilt, one person called it. But he did not feel guilty for surviving the war effort. What he felt was uncertain as to why he had been allowed to do so.
had the Gods decided on a different path for him? Had it been the influence of his family and blood that had saved his life. He had thought he had held his own on several battlefields but he had only been a boy for some of it. Not nearly his full height or breadth or possessing even the strength he did now. Had he really been skilled enough to survive in his own right, or had his men countered for his inexperience? Had their babied him? Fighting before him to thin the herd? Had he not noticed the behaviour to make his own experience of combat easier?
He did not know.
And it was the not knowing that was making his mind drift and his body uncomfortable. Like he didn't deserve it. Like he should be rotting somewhere on a darkened field of death with all the others who had fallen in conflict.
Rolling his shoulders where he sat, as they were about to pull into port, one of the sailors come soldiers he was with moved over to stand beside the prince.
"Find yourself a tavern, my Lord." The man told him around a scar that sliced threw one eye down his cheek and across both his lips. The man had seen some horrors. You could tell by the experience in his voice more than the evidence on his face. "You need to reacquaint yourself with life." the man continued... "Go have a drink, have a woman... Remind yourself that your here and you're meant to be here." The old soldier slapped Vangelis on the shoulder and then repeated the action. "The Gods want you here, my prince... Don't disgrace their gift by not living as if you are..."
Despite not knowing the man... despite having no real evidence to believe him, despite the fact that he was a lower rung officer on one of his father's war ships - plus that all knowing maturity in his gruff voice - Vangelis decided to take the man at his word.
At this point, it was hard to argue that there wasn't a better option or choice.
Upon arriving in port later afternoon, Vangelis knew that the ship was only stopping to resupply. The cabins beneath their feet were running low on fresh water and a few food essentials. Not the mention that the men had started to become a little homesick and cabin fevery for Colchian soil.
When the captain looked to Vangelis for instruction on what they were to do while in port - for they had still another few days to reach Midas - Vangelis offered a nonchalant shrug.
"We'll leave tomorrow at daybreak." He told the captain as bright smiles started to form on the faces of many of the sailors. Vangelis looked out among them. "Enjoy your night and be back before sunup."
With a cheer from the men whom - from their perspective - had just been given the go ahead by a royal prince to get thoroughly drunk and whore the night away, Vangelis simply stepped aside to allow them off the ship before him before looking out at the town.
Megaris was particularly famous for its seedy underbelly - for the taverns, bars and brothels available to the sailors and slave traders that liked to dock in its port. And Vangelis pursed his lips in consideration only for a moment before he chose to take up the town on its offer and the soldier on his advice.
Hopping off the ship and heading down the main ramp to the dock, Vangelis carried nothing with him besides a long sword - for he had not yet discovered his preference for the curved style of blade favoured by those in the Mesopotamian lands, and a small pouch of gold at his hip.
Having little idea that he was wondering around town with more money on his person than most people there made in a year, Vangelis avoided the main streets where the sailors and soldiers seemed to instantly culminate towards. Clearly Megaris was a family stop for them and they would each have their preferred brothel, drinking establishment or, in fact, whore waiting for them.
Vangelis, on the other hand, had no interest in bedding a woman who had shared her secrets with half of his military unit.
Instead, he went walking through the town, considering the layout of the settlement so that he could find his way back to the docks in the morning (not that they would leave the crown prince behind were he late) and found his way in a nicer, more expensive section of the provincial place.
No-one that he passed stopped to stare or notice him - though a few glanced his way astonished by his impressive height - and it was only when he remembered how long he had been away from the Kirakles Isles that it made sense as to why. It was unlikely that none recognised him as the crown prince of Colchis. His last public appearance had been before he had entered into the mines of his capitol - back when he had but just turned thirteen. While officially an adult, he had been by a boy back then. Scraggly and small - yet to grow into his feet and hands, his hair unruly and his eyes too large for his face. A thin neck, thin wrists and frame that held itself like a prince more than it did as a fighter.
Nowadays, Vangelis stood at six foot two - nearly a foot and a half higher than he would have last been seen at. He now stood in physical proportion, his wrists and neck filled out, his body strong and muscle bound. While he still had yet to carry the ropes of strength that he would gain in years to come, his limbs offered clear tendons and the lines of his muscles. His skeleton was at its full size and the flesh that went on it was hard and toned - even if it hadn't reached the same scale it would in the future. His jaw had filled out, his cheekbones become more prominent and therefore his face had balanced out his eyes. His hair was still unruly and his hands still big but these were simple Kotas genes he could no refute even if he wanted to.
He had also - though Vangelis would not notice it until he returned to Midas and was inspected by the feminine eyes of the court - grown up handsome. A man with the blocky strength and angular features of his father and the softer elements and curving lips of his mother.
While he might not have realised it that night, there would have been no issue in him finding a willing partner in any of the brothels his fellow sailors had decided to patron.
Instead, however, Vangelis of Kotas - the crown prince of the kingdom - had found himself in a mostly high-class residential area of Megaris. About to turn around and head back, his only hindrance to such a decision were the bright lights and suddenly loud voiced of a drinking hole on the end of one of the streets.
Recognising it as a tavern to the slightly more discerning traveller, Vangelis headed in that direction, confident he would not find any of the men he had spent the last two weeks travelling with within its walls. He had interest in sharing combined quarters with them for yet another night longer than was necessary.
The establishment within which he entered was laid out similarly to any other tavern or bar - low or high class. The expanse of wooden surface across the back offered the barrier between bartender and congregation and the tables and chairs scattered amongst the rest of the room sported men of all kinds.
Some appeared to be locals - attending the bar at the end of their week of work or escaping the homestead in order to avoid the wife for a few extra hours. Others appeared to be travellers but the upper scale class of such fellows; the ships' captains, the first mates... the men who would not dine to patronage the same watering hole as their crew.
All in all, the place suited Vangelis just fine and he kept the cowl of the hood of his cloak up and in place, hiding his hair and most of his face from view. He also, surreptitiously removed his signet and House ring from his hand and placed them inside his money pouch. The last thing he needed tonight was for someone to recognise his status and turn the evening into a night of appealing to the higher ends of society for political or financial favours. For once, he just wanted to relax...
After stepping up to the bar at the back of the room and ordering a mead over wine, Vangelis headed to a booth on one side of the room. In the centre of the open space were rounded tables with chairs on spindly legs placed hazardously around them. But along the far wall from the door were booths with rectangular tables sticking out from the wall and benched units standing between.
Sliding into one with his drink, Vangelis tried to sit back and relax, holding his tankard between the palms of his hands and keeping his hood up and in place, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Not that they would recognise him if he did. After all... the last few years had turned Vangelis of Kotas from a boy into a man... No-one would expect such a person to be loitering in a tavern in Megaris...
Days in Megaris were notoriously short and seemed to end well before the sun set across the harbor and between the jagged peaks of the neighboring isles. The sun lurked just above these peaks and seemed to balance ever so carefully on the needle points created by the masts of the ships at sea. There were a few precious hours left before night fell and the streets would become less friendly to a young woman such as Thea. For now, though, this was her home and her face was known enough by the light of day for nothing to befall her.
With that being said, this particular errand required a certain amount of delicacy and subterfuge. While she most assuredly planned to return to her father's manor before the sun finished tinting the white marble of the upper levels with orange and turned them to a dusky lavender, this was not a mission for the true light of day.
Many of the tea houses and novelty shops closed in the upper district, only a few pour houses remained open for business, with their lanterns glowing above doorways and through the windows. On many nights, it was easier to hear the raucous ambient noise rise through the streets from the lower levels than it was to hear even the most jovial conversation from the higher class establishments. They thrived on discretion and solace more than anything, with more back rooms than the average traveler would find. Of course, the quieter the words, the more tantalizing the tale. Especially if they could afford to be in the upper city.
That was her purpose now, to seek news from afar and deliver it to her sister. With so many of the military units returning from the wars in the north, there were certain connections and discoveries that needed to be made. Her sister, Nethis, was not one to miss out on a piece of news here and there. Particularly if it could be given by a solider of some appeal.
Stepping swiftly toward one of the last establishments on the strip before drifting one level lower, Thea slipped through the doorway. Her peplos was a muted, crushed cranberry, layered and tied in a way that accentuated her curves without becoming an outward proposition like the girls in the lower levels. Her lips were darkened with pigment and her eyes were deepened and accented with khol. It was tasteful, if still accentuating her youth. This particular look was pulled together by Nethis, as well as a few choice phrases to pique the interest and attention of someone who may have words they wished to boast. This was not her first time on such a venture, surreptitiously playing low-born to learn something, but boldness was far more Nethis' speed than Thea's.
More than one set of eyes glanced her way as she entered, and she slowly began to cross the sparse room, slipping on a softer smile and letting her eyes gently glance lower as if dipping her head each time a man tilted his head toward her. Her eyes, though, glanced around the small tables and booths in the room, looking for tanned, ruddy faces and broad shoulders - the signs of a soldier.
Quietly ordering a small chalice of wine, it was not long before she was approached by an elder man, a captain of a ship of some note. He spoke with an accent and hairstyle indicative of Taengea and began to regale her with some bombastic tale of pirates and shipwrecks. Throughout patiently entertaining his tale, her eyes would fall on the man in the corner, unblinking. Briefly cutting off the man's boasts, she quietly entreated, "Do you have any news of the wars in the northlands? I am...curious, you could say."
From that moment, her eyes fell on the hooded figure, watching as he drained his tankard while she spoke, and never looked away.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Days in Megaris were notoriously short and seemed to end well before the sun set across the harbor and between the jagged peaks of the neighboring isles. The sun lurked just above these peaks and seemed to balance ever so carefully on the needle points created by the masts of the ships at sea. There were a few precious hours left before night fell and the streets would become less friendly to a young woman such as Thea. For now, though, this was her home and her face was known enough by the light of day for nothing to befall her.
With that being said, this particular errand required a certain amount of delicacy and subterfuge. While she most assuredly planned to return to her father's manor before the sun finished tinting the white marble of the upper levels with orange and turned them to a dusky lavender, this was not a mission for the true light of day.
Many of the tea houses and novelty shops closed in the upper district, only a few pour houses remained open for business, with their lanterns glowing above doorways and through the windows. On many nights, it was easier to hear the raucous ambient noise rise through the streets from the lower levels than it was to hear even the most jovial conversation from the higher class establishments. They thrived on discretion and solace more than anything, with more back rooms than the average traveler would find. Of course, the quieter the words, the more tantalizing the tale. Especially if they could afford to be in the upper city.
That was her purpose now, to seek news from afar and deliver it to her sister. With so many of the military units returning from the wars in the north, there were certain connections and discoveries that needed to be made. Her sister, Nethis, was not one to miss out on a piece of news here and there. Particularly if it could be given by a solider of some appeal.
Stepping swiftly toward one of the last establishments on the strip before drifting one level lower, Thea slipped through the doorway. Her peplos was a muted, crushed cranberry, layered and tied in a way that accentuated her curves without becoming an outward proposition like the girls in the lower levels. Her lips were darkened with pigment and her eyes were deepened and accented with khol. It was tasteful, if still accentuating her youth. This particular look was pulled together by Nethis, as well as a few choice phrases to pique the interest and attention of someone who may have words they wished to boast. This was not her first time on such a venture, surreptitiously playing low-born to learn something, but boldness was far more Nethis' speed than Thea's.
More than one set of eyes glanced her way as she entered, and she slowly began to cross the sparse room, slipping on a softer smile and letting her eyes gently glance lower as if dipping her head each time a man tilted his head toward her. Her eyes, though, glanced around the small tables and booths in the room, looking for tanned, ruddy faces and broad shoulders - the signs of a soldier.
Quietly ordering a small chalice of wine, it was not long before she was approached by an elder man, a captain of a ship of some note. He spoke with an accent and hairstyle indicative of Taengea and began to regale her with some bombastic tale of pirates and shipwrecks. Throughout patiently entertaining his tale, her eyes would fall on the man in the corner, unblinking. Briefly cutting off the man's boasts, she quietly entreated, "Do you have any news of the wars in the northlands? I am...curious, you could say."
From that moment, her eyes fell on the hooded figure, watching as he drained his tankard while she spoke, and never looked away.
Days in Megaris were notoriously short and seemed to end well before the sun set across the harbor and between the jagged peaks of the neighboring isles. The sun lurked just above these peaks and seemed to balance ever so carefully on the needle points created by the masts of the ships at sea. There were a few precious hours left before night fell and the streets would become less friendly to a young woman such as Thea. For now, though, this was her home and her face was known enough by the light of day for nothing to befall her.
With that being said, this particular errand required a certain amount of delicacy and subterfuge. While she most assuredly planned to return to her father's manor before the sun finished tinting the white marble of the upper levels with orange and turned them to a dusky lavender, this was not a mission for the true light of day.
Many of the tea houses and novelty shops closed in the upper district, only a few pour houses remained open for business, with their lanterns glowing above doorways and through the windows. On many nights, it was easier to hear the raucous ambient noise rise through the streets from the lower levels than it was to hear even the most jovial conversation from the higher class establishments. They thrived on discretion and solace more than anything, with more back rooms than the average traveler would find. Of course, the quieter the words, the more tantalizing the tale. Especially if they could afford to be in the upper city.
That was her purpose now, to seek news from afar and deliver it to her sister. With so many of the military units returning from the wars in the north, there were certain connections and discoveries that needed to be made. Her sister, Nethis, was not one to miss out on a piece of news here and there. Particularly if it could be given by a solider of some appeal.
Stepping swiftly toward one of the last establishments on the strip before drifting one level lower, Thea slipped through the doorway. Her peplos was a muted, crushed cranberry, layered and tied in a way that accentuated her curves without becoming an outward proposition like the girls in the lower levels. Her lips were darkened with pigment and her eyes were deepened and accented with khol. It was tasteful, if still accentuating her youth. This particular look was pulled together by Nethis, as well as a few choice phrases to pique the interest and attention of someone who may have words they wished to boast. This was not her first time on such a venture, surreptitiously playing low-born to learn something, but boldness was far more Nethis' speed than Thea's.
More than one set of eyes glanced her way as she entered, and she slowly began to cross the sparse room, slipping on a softer smile and letting her eyes gently glance lower as if dipping her head each time a man tilted his head toward her. Her eyes, though, glanced around the small tables and booths in the room, looking for tanned, ruddy faces and broad shoulders - the signs of a soldier.
Quietly ordering a small chalice of wine, it was not long before she was approached by an elder man, a captain of a ship of some note. He spoke with an accent and hairstyle indicative of Taengea and began to regale her with some bombastic tale of pirates and shipwrecks. Throughout patiently entertaining his tale, her eyes would fall on the man in the corner, unblinking. Briefly cutting off the man's boasts, she quietly entreated, "Do you have any news of the wars in the northlands? I am...curious, you could say."
From that moment, her eyes fell on the hooded figure, watching as he drained his tankard while she spoke, and never looked away.
When the woman entered into the tavern, Vangelis' male gaze naturally moved to the anomaly in the room; the solitary female who had entered alone. While he wasn't conscious of such thoughts, his subconscious mind was quick the appraise and judge as to who she was. Clean, well gowned and groomed and with a posture straight as a blade, the woman was clearly of good family. With no servant or bodyguard trailing behind her, she was likely not one of great wealth or authority. Perhaps the daughter of a lower merchant, intent on grooming his daughter for greater things than his reach alone could afford.
And the merchant, trader or whomever her father was has placed his bet on an appropriate horse - so to speak... The young woman in question was highly beautiful; a classic Colchian beauty with pale skin, black hair and a look of strength and fire about her. If anyone was to have a daughter, they would spend the time and money on to elevate their position; a daughter like that was the kind to place such attentions on.
As was proven by the leering stares of every male in the bar. To which Vangelis refused to be added in number and turned his attentions back to his mug of ale and swallowed back the last of his beverage.
It was as he was enjoying the taste, his index finger tapping on the rim of the cup, and his stature lazy and slumped at the table, and as he was considering purchasing another drink, that Vangelis noted a movement from the corner of his eye.
The movement in question was the leaning in of some military captain or other, getting into the personal space of the young woman who had approached him. She had wanted to know about the battles in the northlands – or so Vangelis had overheard – but the man in question appeared to take that as some kind of attraction overture as he leaned in to murmur his reply too low for Vangelis to pick up. The look on the woman’s face, and the glint in the man’s eye however were clear indicators of his comments.
A frown adorned Vangelis’ brow when the man leaned in towards the woman, still clearly interested in, despite the feeling being clearly unrequited. Vangelis noted as the look on the young woman's face went from irritation, to anger, to extreme discomfort, and then wasn't able to wait any longer for someone else in the room to do something about it.
While he had made the vow to himself to remain undetected off of the ship... to attend a tavern, have a drink and (possibly) be bold enough to step into a brothel upon his return to the docks, Vangelis had had no intention of becoming a part of anything that would draw attention towards him. He had been taught long ago, by both his mother and father, that his actions, his words and his reputation were not his own. When he spoke, so did the House of Kotas. When he acted, so too did the future king of Colchis.
It was why he had kept his head down and remained quiet since walking into the tavern in question and had he not noticed the spark of what he translated as lowkey fear in the young woman's features as the drunkard continued to bother her, Vangelis would have allowed the woman to fight her own battles. Now, however, he was unable to resist standing and making his way quickly to the bar.
Luckily, he had not been in his own kingdom for four years (four extremely formative years in terms of his appearance) and had never been to Megaris at all. Such reasoning pounded in the back of his head as he watched the inebriated sailor or labourer reach out with a sweaty paw to try and touch the young woman's face and lips.
Stepping up behind him and not even pausing or breaking stride, Vangelis reached up, secured a hand to the back of the man's greasy head and threw all his strength into that arm.
With a sudden jerk of high velocity, the drunken idiot's face hit the wood of the bar and the man collapsed into a heap, blood dribbling from his nose and his eyes blank in stupor. He was breathing so the shock hadn't killed him, but Vangelis was confident he would be out all night.
The loud bang that had occurred when skull met wood, had a lot of people looking in their direction but when Vangelis simply handed over his empty mug to the barman, to be replaced with a fresh one, dipped his head politely the woman he had intruded upon and then stepped away again, heading back to his bench and table, the general chatter of the room started up again. As he walked by silently, everyone kept their eyes on their cups or on the table before them. And no-one moved in to approach the lady...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
When the woman entered into the tavern, Vangelis' male gaze naturally moved to the anomaly in the room; the solitary female who had entered alone. While he wasn't conscious of such thoughts, his subconscious mind was quick the appraise and judge as to who she was. Clean, well gowned and groomed and with a posture straight as a blade, the woman was clearly of good family. With no servant or bodyguard trailing behind her, she was likely not one of great wealth or authority. Perhaps the daughter of a lower merchant, intent on grooming his daughter for greater things than his reach alone could afford.
And the merchant, trader or whomever her father was has placed his bet on an appropriate horse - so to speak... The young woman in question was highly beautiful; a classic Colchian beauty with pale skin, black hair and a look of strength and fire about her. If anyone was to have a daughter, they would spend the time and money on to elevate their position; a daughter like that was the kind to place such attentions on.
As was proven by the leering stares of every male in the bar. To which Vangelis refused to be added in number and turned his attentions back to his mug of ale and swallowed back the last of his beverage.
It was as he was enjoying the taste, his index finger tapping on the rim of the cup, and his stature lazy and slumped at the table, and as he was considering purchasing another drink, that Vangelis noted a movement from the corner of his eye.
The movement in question was the leaning in of some military captain or other, getting into the personal space of the young woman who had approached him. She had wanted to know about the battles in the northlands – or so Vangelis had overheard – but the man in question appeared to take that as some kind of attraction overture as he leaned in to murmur his reply too low for Vangelis to pick up. The look on the woman’s face, and the glint in the man’s eye however were clear indicators of his comments.
A frown adorned Vangelis’ brow when the man leaned in towards the woman, still clearly interested in, despite the feeling being clearly unrequited. Vangelis noted as the look on the young woman's face went from irritation, to anger, to extreme discomfort, and then wasn't able to wait any longer for someone else in the room to do something about it.
While he had made the vow to himself to remain undetected off of the ship... to attend a tavern, have a drink and (possibly) be bold enough to step into a brothel upon his return to the docks, Vangelis had had no intention of becoming a part of anything that would draw attention towards him. He had been taught long ago, by both his mother and father, that his actions, his words and his reputation were not his own. When he spoke, so did the House of Kotas. When he acted, so too did the future king of Colchis.
It was why he had kept his head down and remained quiet since walking into the tavern in question and had he not noticed the spark of what he translated as lowkey fear in the young woman's features as the drunkard continued to bother her, Vangelis would have allowed the woman to fight her own battles. Now, however, he was unable to resist standing and making his way quickly to the bar.
Luckily, he had not been in his own kingdom for four years (four extremely formative years in terms of his appearance) and had never been to Megaris at all. Such reasoning pounded in the back of his head as he watched the inebriated sailor or labourer reach out with a sweaty paw to try and touch the young woman's face and lips.
Stepping up behind him and not even pausing or breaking stride, Vangelis reached up, secured a hand to the back of the man's greasy head and threw all his strength into that arm.
With a sudden jerk of high velocity, the drunken idiot's face hit the wood of the bar and the man collapsed into a heap, blood dribbling from his nose and his eyes blank in stupor. He was breathing so the shock hadn't killed him, but Vangelis was confident he would be out all night.
The loud bang that had occurred when skull met wood, had a lot of people looking in their direction but when Vangelis simply handed over his empty mug to the barman, to be replaced with a fresh one, dipped his head politely the woman he had intruded upon and then stepped away again, heading back to his bench and table, the general chatter of the room started up again. As he walked by silently, everyone kept their eyes on their cups or on the table before them. And no-one moved in to approach the lady...
When the woman entered into the tavern, Vangelis' male gaze naturally moved to the anomaly in the room; the solitary female who had entered alone. While he wasn't conscious of such thoughts, his subconscious mind was quick the appraise and judge as to who she was. Clean, well gowned and groomed and with a posture straight as a blade, the woman was clearly of good family. With no servant or bodyguard trailing behind her, she was likely not one of great wealth or authority. Perhaps the daughter of a lower merchant, intent on grooming his daughter for greater things than his reach alone could afford.
And the merchant, trader or whomever her father was has placed his bet on an appropriate horse - so to speak... The young woman in question was highly beautiful; a classic Colchian beauty with pale skin, black hair and a look of strength and fire about her. If anyone was to have a daughter, they would spend the time and money on to elevate their position; a daughter like that was the kind to place such attentions on.
As was proven by the leering stares of every male in the bar. To which Vangelis refused to be added in number and turned his attentions back to his mug of ale and swallowed back the last of his beverage.
It was as he was enjoying the taste, his index finger tapping on the rim of the cup, and his stature lazy and slumped at the table, and as he was considering purchasing another drink, that Vangelis noted a movement from the corner of his eye.
The movement in question was the leaning in of some military captain or other, getting into the personal space of the young woman who had approached him. She had wanted to know about the battles in the northlands – or so Vangelis had overheard – but the man in question appeared to take that as some kind of attraction overture as he leaned in to murmur his reply too low for Vangelis to pick up. The look on the woman’s face, and the glint in the man’s eye however were clear indicators of his comments.
A frown adorned Vangelis’ brow when the man leaned in towards the woman, still clearly interested in, despite the feeling being clearly unrequited. Vangelis noted as the look on the young woman's face went from irritation, to anger, to extreme discomfort, and then wasn't able to wait any longer for someone else in the room to do something about it.
While he had made the vow to himself to remain undetected off of the ship... to attend a tavern, have a drink and (possibly) be bold enough to step into a brothel upon his return to the docks, Vangelis had had no intention of becoming a part of anything that would draw attention towards him. He had been taught long ago, by both his mother and father, that his actions, his words and his reputation were not his own. When he spoke, so did the House of Kotas. When he acted, so too did the future king of Colchis.
It was why he had kept his head down and remained quiet since walking into the tavern in question and had he not noticed the spark of what he translated as lowkey fear in the young woman's features as the drunkard continued to bother her, Vangelis would have allowed the woman to fight her own battles. Now, however, he was unable to resist standing and making his way quickly to the bar.
Luckily, he had not been in his own kingdom for four years (four extremely formative years in terms of his appearance) and had never been to Megaris at all. Such reasoning pounded in the back of his head as he watched the inebriated sailor or labourer reach out with a sweaty paw to try and touch the young woman's face and lips.
Stepping up behind him and not even pausing or breaking stride, Vangelis reached up, secured a hand to the back of the man's greasy head and threw all his strength into that arm.
With a sudden jerk of high velocity, the drunken idiot's face hit the wood of the bar and the man collapsed into a heap, blood dribbling from his nose and his eyes blank in stupor. He was breathing so the shock hadn't killed him, but Vangelis was confident he would be out all night.
The loud bang that had occurred when skull met wood, had a lot of people looking in their direction but when Vangelis simply handed over his empty mug to the barman, to be replaced with a fresh one, dipped his head politely the woman he had intruded upon and then stepped away again, heading back to his bench and table, the general chatter of the room started up again. As he walked by silently, everyone kept their eyes on their cups or on the table before them. And no-one moved in to approach the lady...
Even before her debut at court, Thea had plenty of practice in entertaining conversations she was not particularly interested in. Still, knowing her purpose, she intended to seek out those who had the answers her sister required and then return home. Social circumstances were not her forte.
Her current 'companion' did not seem promising from the moment they began to speak. Thea had intended for his attentions to go elsewhere as soon as she stopped offering him anything particularly interesting as a conversation piece. However, be it the drink or whatever standard of flirtation was common among his upbringing, he was relentless in his pursuit. Thea managed to pin him with a stare that, in most other circumstances, would drive others away. He saw none of it. His breath alone was enough to cause Thea's nose to crease and crinkle with disgust, and she attempted to lean away from the smell. That alone seemed like an invitation for him to lean in further.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the soldier in the corner rise from his seat, but then refocused her attention on the advancing sailor who tried fruitlessly to make her crack a smile with some off-color joke. He dared to reach his hand towards her face, as if to touch the corner of her lip with his thumb and lift it upward. Just as she prepared to excuse herself, likely for the door and to move on with her evening, she watched as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The man hardly noticed, whether for the drink or speed of the action, as the soldier's hand grasped the back of his head and made a perfect arc towards the bartop. Despite the sickening sound of the impact, Thea did not flinch, even when she felt what must have been either flecks of blood or drink speckle her sharp cheekbone. Her eyes never wavered as she watched the stunned man slump to the ground, lifting only to see the hooded man order another drink and return to his booth.
There were few things that Thea found horribly intriguing in her day to day life. Often it consisted in running errands or playing coy among society as needed, but she could not help but actually feel the corner of her lip lift in interest and amusement as she watched the man step away. Her head even tilted slightly as she pondered the motivation, the action, and the overall narrative that this story would eventually become as time passed. Already, the tables around began to whisper, yet no one moved to assist the man on the floor. Poor thing, she thought, taking that brief moment of quiet to sip the cool, crimson wine from her glass.
After a moment, she stood, lifting her skirt to step over the fallen man, careful to keep the hem from touching the spilled drink or blood that began to pool on the floor. Only once she had stepped away from the area did she sense the barkeep and another go to remove the man from sight. None of that mattered to her in that moment as she crossed the room at an unwavering pace until she stood beside the opposing high-backed bench across from the soldier and placing a hand on the wood.
"I am in your debt, soldier," she replied, her voice tranquil and cool. Measuring his response with her steady, unblinking gaze, she took another small sip from her glass before continuing, "There is a small courtyard through these doors if you wish to enjoy your drink without being seen." It was a test, in some ways. Clearly, as the man kept his hood up, he was adverse to some sort of attention. Yet, with his most recent actions, he had drawn a certain amount of attention to himself on her behalf. It was a relatively innocent suggestion, one she hoped he would accept as she stepped away from the booth and towards the doorway.
Standing just shy of it, she paused, glancing sidelong over her shoulder at his frame then silently tilting her head towards the door, as if invisibly tugging at his sleeve in encouragement to follow. ,
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Even before her debut at court, Thea had plenty of practice in entertaining conversations she was not particularly interested in. Still, knowing her purpose, she intended to seek out those who had the answers her sister required and then return home. Social circumstances were not her forte.
Her current 'companion' did not seem promising from the moment they began to speak. Thea had intended for his attentions to go elsewhere as soon as she stopped offering him anything particularly interesting as a conversation piece. However, be it the drink or whatever standard of flirtation was common among his upbringing, he was relentless in his pursuit. Thea managed to pin him with a stare that, in most other circumstances, would drive others away. He saw none of it. His breath alone was enough to cause Thea's nose to crease and crinkle with disgust, and she attempted to lean away from the smell. That alone seemed like an invitation for him to lean in further.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the soldier in the corner rise from his seat, but then refocused her attention on the advancing sailor who tried fruitlessly to make her crack a smile with some off-color joke. He dared to reach his hand towards her face, as if to touch the corner of her lip with his thumb and lift it upward. Just as she prepared to excuse herself, likely for the door and to move on with her evening, she watched as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The man hardly noticed, whether for the drink or speed of the action, as the soldier's hand grasped the back of his head and made a perfect arc towards the bartop. Despite the sickening sound of the impact, Thea did not flinch, even when she felt what must have been either flecks of blood or drink speckle her sharp cheekbone. Her eyes never wavered as she watched the stunned man slump to the ground, lifting only to see the hooded man order another drink and return to his booth.
There were few things that Thea found horribly intriguing in her day to day life. Often it consisted in running errands or playing coy among society as needed, but she could not help but actually feel the corner of her lip lift in interest and amusement as she watched the man step away. Her head even tilted slightly as she pondered the motivation, the action, and the overall narrative that this story would eventually become as time passed. Already, the tables around began to whisper, yet no one moved to assist the man on the floor. Poor thing, she thought, taking that brief moment of quiet to sip the cool, crimson wine from her glass.
After a moment, she stood, lifting her skirt to step over the fallen man, careful to keep the hem from touching the spilled drink or blood that began to pool on the floor. Only once she had stepped away from the area did she sense the barkeep and another go to remove the man from sight. None of that mattered to her in that moment as she crossed the room at an unwavering pace until she stood beside the opposing high-backed bench across from the soldier and placing a hand on the wood.
"I am in your debt, soldier," she replied, her voice tranquil and cool. Measuring his response with her steady, unblinking gaze, she took another small sip from her glass before continuing, "There is a small courtyard through these doors if you wish to enjoy your drink without being seen." It was a test, in some ways. Clearly, as the man kept his hood up, he was adverse to some sort of attention. Yet, with his most recent actions, he had drawn a certain amount of attention to himself on her behalf. It was a relatively innocent suggestion, one she hoped he would accept as she stepped away from the booth and towards the doorway.
Standing just shy of it, she paused, glancing sidelong over her shoulder at his frame then silently tilting her head towards the door, as if invisibly tugging at his sleeve in encouragement to follow. ,
Even before her debut at court, Thea had plenty of practice in entertaining conversations she was not particularly interested in. Still, knowing her purpose, she intended to seek out those who had the answers her sister required and then return home. Social circumstances were not her forte.
Her current 'companion' did not seem promising from the moment they began to speak. Thea had intended for his attentions to go elsewhere as soon as she stopped offering him anything particularly interesting as a conversation piece. However, be it the drink or whatever standard of flirtation was common among his upbringing, he was relentless in his pursuit. Thea managed to pin him with a stare that, in most other circumstances, would drive others away. He saw none of it. His breath alone was enough to cause Thea's nose to crease and crinkle with disgust, and she attempted to lean away from the smell. That alone seemed like an invitation for him to lean in further.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the soldier in the corner rise from his seat, but then refocused her attention on the advancing sailor who tried fruitlessly to make her crack a smile with some off-color joke. He dared to reach his hand towards her face, as if to touch the corner of her lip with his thumb and lift it upward. Just as she prepared to excuse herself, likely for the door and to move on with her evening, she watched as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The man hardly noticed, whether for the drink or speed of the action, as the soldier's hand grasped the back of his head and made a perfect arc towards the bartop. Despite the sickening sound of the impact, Thea did not flinch, even when she felt what must have been either flecks of blood or drink speckle her sharp cheekbone. Her eyes never wavered as she watched the stunned man slump to the ground, lifting only to see the hooded man order another drink and return to his booth.
There were few things that Thea found horribly intriguing in her day to day life. Often it consisted in running errands or playing coy among society as needed, but she could not help but actually feel the corner of her lip lift in interest and amusement as she watched the man step away. Her head even tilted slightly as she pondered the motivation, the action, and the overall narrative that this story would eventually become as time passed. Already, the tables around began to whisper, yet no one moved to assist the man on the floor. Poor thing, she thought, taking that brief moment of quiet to sip the cool, crimson wine from her glass.
After a moment, she stood, lifting her skirt to step over the fallen man, careful to keep the hem from touching the spilled drink or blood that began to pool on the floor. Only once she had stepped away from the area did she sense the barkeep and another go to remove the man from sight. None of that mattered to her in that moment as she crossed the room at an unwavering pace until she stood beside the opposing high-backed bench across from the soldier and placing a hand on the wood.
"I am in your debt, soldier," she replied, her voice tranquil and cool. Measuring his response with her steady, unblinking gaze, she took another small sip from her glass before continuing, "There is a small courtyard through these doors if you wish to enjoy your drink without being seen." It was a test, in some ways. Clearly, as the man kept his hood up, he was adverse to some sort of attention. Yet, with his most recent actions, he had drawn a certain amount of attention to himself on her behalf. It was a relatively innocent suggestion, one she hoped he would accept as she stepped away from the booth and towards the doorway.
Standing just shy of it, she paused, glancing sidelong over her shoulder at his frame then silently tilting her head towards the door, as if invisibly tugging at his sleeve in encouragement to follow. ,
His actions in ceasing the drunkard’s advancements were hardly heroic or even particularly note-worthy, as far as Vangelis of Kotas was concerned. An efficient man, even in his youth, with a practical turn of mind and phrase, he had identified a problem, removed it and continued about his day. The impact it had on others, he cared for little. The impact it had on his assailee was of more but limited interest to him. Specifically, the concept that his actions might spur the notion that such behaviour would be imprudent to repeat in the future. Though, he suspected that such thinking might be idealistic folly.
So, when the young woman he had supposedly "saved" came over to address to him her gratitude, Vangelis was not dismissive per se but certainly not taking of her thanks with any great show or level of significance in his manner. The pale, dark-haired beauty came to stand before him, one hand on the top of the long bench across from his table, her eyes on his face and her frame casually confident. Keeping his hood in place, Vangelis had simply looked up at her approach, his spine trying to incline to be formal and respectful to a woman of beautiful note. But… he was supposedly but a soldier in this place and standing to offer the formal bow of his higher-class upbringing would hardly aid in his desire to remain unnoticed.
Yet, neither had his actions. Whilst he had been focused on his own drink and his own table, in the hopes that other patrons of the tavern would return to their own business, Vangelis then glanced around the room when the stranger suggested a drink out of doors. Unfortunately, the resounding thwack that the drunken soldiers' nose had made on the bar and the ensuing approach of the beautiful woman to her supposed saviour had ensured that no such quiet would again reign. Instead, the drinkers and comrades at each of the tables had taken to whispering, turning and watching and muttering within their groups, as if Vangelis had introduced them to the beginning of a spectacular. And the longer they watched, the more chance of someone who had visited Midas would have a flicker of familiarity in the back of their mind upon noticing him. And Vangelis couldn't risk the crown prince of Colchis being attributed to a bar brawl.
With a slow and resigned exhale, therefore, Vangelis said nothing in response to the young woman’s suggestion verbally, but indicated his reply clear as day by bracing his big hands (still a little large in comparison to muscles still growing) upon the wood of the table and pushing himself to his feet. Whilst his youth had not yet added to his frame the full breadth of his shoulders and the blocks of muscle that would, in future times, transform the prince into a powerhouse of a man, Vangelis had developed to almost his full height. And four years away at war had given him a strength and domineering aura that were enough on their own to send the witnesses of his actions back to staring into the depths of their drinks.
Ignoring their reactions as best he could, Vangelis stepped out from behind his table, scooped up the mug of ale he had only recently been issued and followed the woman as the lilt of her head appeared to beckon.
Pausing at the door, so as that she might go first - his manners and upbringing not so easy to hide when teachings had already been crystallised into habit - Vangelis followed the stranger into a small courtyard out back from the tavern. Having expected to find some form of back alley where the refuse of the establishment collected - as was lurking at the rear of most such properties - Vangelis was surprised to note that the area was more for the use of customers. The courtyard was fashioned for outside dining, with a few benches laid about and a high hedgerow growing over the boxed in fence. The tavern occupied two of the four walls of the paved square, whilst growing greenery completed the opposite sides to almost the same height. The space was empty because the night was cold but such weather didn't seem to bother the woman who had led him there.
"You owe me nothing." Vangelis said, as the woman closed the door behind them, muting the general buzz of the public room, breaking the silence between them and referring to her previous thanks. They were the first words he had spoken to her and his voice was now deep with manhood and rough from sea breezes and salty air. "There is no debt for expecting a man to behave with propriety to a woman." His words were not bombastic or that of a hero but stated as simple fact. A natural chivalry that needed no thanks and demanded no attention. It was simply the way the world should work, as far as Vangelis was concerned. His mother had ensured such mentalities were strong in both he and his brothers.
Finding a spot for himself against the dank wall, Vangelis leaned back to brace his shoulder-blades against the structure, his heels supporting his weight, his thumb hooked into the waist of his loose pants and his other hand raising his drink to his lips. His hood was still up and there were no lights outside so his features were likely far harder to read than hers, given her skin almost glowed in the darkness.
"You should not visit such places unattended." He commented, with a nod towards the door they had just exited from. For a woman of her calibre was likely to draw attention wherever she went. And a low run tavern such as this was hardly a place where such attentions would be polite...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
His actions in ceasing the drunkard’s advancements were hardly heroic or even particularly note-worthy, as far as Vangelis of Kotas was concerned. An efficient man, even in his youth, with a practical turn of mind and phrase, he had identified a problem, removed it and continued about his day. The impact it had on others, he cared for little. The impact it had on his assailee was of more but limited interest to him. Specifically, the concept that his actions might spur the notion that such behaviour would be imprudent to repeat in the future. Though, he suspected that such thinking might be idealistic folly.
So, when the young woman he had supposedly "saved" came over to address to him her gratitude, Vangelis was not dismissive per se but certainly not taking of her thanks with any great show or level of significance in his manner. The pale, dark-haired beauty came to stand before him, one hand on the top of the long bench across from his table, her eyes on his face and her frame casually confident. Keeping his hood in place, Vangelis had simply looked up at her approach, his spine trying to incline to be formal and respectful to a woman of beautiful note. But… he was supposedly but a soldier in this place and standing to offer the formal bow of his higher-class upbringing would hardly aid in his desire to remain unnoticed.
Yet, neither had his actions. Whilst he had been focused on his own drink and his own table, in the hopes that other patrons of the tavern would return to their own business, Vangelis then glanced around the room when the stranger suggested a drink out of doors. Unfortunately, the resounding thwack that the drunken soldiers' nose had made on the bar and the ensuing approach of the beautiful woman to her supposed saviour had ensured that no such quiet would again reign. Instead, the drinkers and comrades at each of the tables had taken to whispering, turning and watching and muttering within their groups, as if Vangelis had introduced them to the beginning of a spectacular. And the longer they watched, the more chance of someone who had visited Midas would have a flicker of familiarity in the back of their mind upon noticing him. And Vangelis couldn't risk the crown prince of Colchis being attributed to a bar brawl.
With a slow and resigned exhale, therefore, Vangelis said nothing in response to the young woman’s suggestion verbally, but indicated his reply clear as day by bracing his big hands (still a little large in comparison to muscles still growing) upon the wood of the table and pushing himself to his feet. Whilst his youth had not yet added to his frame the full breadth of his shoulders and the blocks of muscle that would, in future times, transform the prince into a powerhouse of a man, Vangelis had developed to almost his full height. And four years away at war had given him a strength and domineering aura that were enough on their own to send the witnesses of his actions back to staring into the depths of their drinks.
Ignoring their reactions as best he could, Vangelis stepped out from behind his table, scooped up the mug of ale he had only recently been issued and followed the woman as the lilt of her head appeared to beckon.
Pausing at the door, so as that she might go first - his manners and upbringing not so easy to hide when teachings had already been crystallised into habit - Vangelis followed the stranger into a small courtyard out back from the tavern. Having expected to find some form of back alley where the refuse of the establishment collected - as was lurking at the rear of most such properties - Vangelis was surprised to note that the area was more for the use of customers. The courtyard was fashioned for outside dining, with a few benches laid about and a high hedgerow growing over the boxed in fence. The tavern occupied two of the four walls of the paved square, whilst growing greenery completed the opposite sides to almost the same height. The space was empty because the night was cold but such weather didn't seem to bother the woman who had led him there.
"You owe me nothing." Vangelis said, as the woman closed the door behind them, muting the general buzz of the public room, breaking the silence between them and referring to her previous thanks. They were the first words he had spoken to her and his voice was now deep with manhood and rough from sea breezes and salty air. "There is no debt for expecting a man to behave with propriety to a woman." His words were not bombastic or that of a hero but stated as simple fact. A natural chivalry that needed no thanks and demanded no attention. It was simply the way the world should work, as far as Vangelis was concerned. His mother had ensured such mentalities were strong in both he and his brothers.
Finding a spot for himself against the dank wall, Vangelis leaned back to brace his shoulder-blades against the structure, his heels supporting his weight, his thumb hooked into the waist of his loose pants and his other hand raising his drink to his lips. His hood was still up and there were no lights outside so his features were likely far harder to read than hers, given her skin almost glowed in the darkness.
"You should not visit such places unattended." He commented, with a nod towards the door they had just exited from. For a woman of her calibre was likely to draw attention wherever she went. And a low run tavern such as this was hardly a place where such attentions would be polite...
His actions in ceasing the drunkard’s advancements were hardly heroic or even particularly note-worthy, as far as Vangelis of Kotas was concerned. An efficient man, even in his youth, with a practical turn of mind and phrase, he had identified a problem, removed it and continued about his day. The impact it had on others, he cared for little. The impact it had on his assailee was of more but limited interest to him. Specifically, the concept that his actions might spur the notion that such behaviour would be imprudent to repeat in the future. Though, he suspected that such thinking might be idealistic folly.
So, when the young woman he had supposedly "saved" came over to address to him her gratitude, Vangelis was not dismissive per se but certainly not taking of her thanks with any great show or level of significance in his manner. The pale, dark-haired beauty came to stand before him, one hand on the top of the long bench across from his table, her eyes on his face and her frame casually confident. Keeping his hood in place, Vangelis had simply looked up at her approach, his spine trying to incline to be formal and respectful to a woman of beautiful note. But… he was supposedly but a soldier in this place and standing to offer the formal bow of his higher-class upbringing would hardly aid in his desire to remain unnoticed.
Yet, neither had his actions. Whilst he had been focused on his own drink and his own table, in the hopes that other patrons of the tavern would return to their own business, Vangelis then glanced around the room when the stranger suggested a drink out of doors. Unfortunately, the resounding thwack that the drunken soldiers' nose had made on the bar and the ensuing approach of the beautiful woman to her supposed saviour had ensured that no such quiet would again reign. Instead, the drinkers and comrades at each of the tables had taken to whispering, turning and watching and muttering within their groups, as if Vangelis had introduced them to the beginning of a spectacular. And the longer they watched, the more chance of someone who had visited Midas would have a flicker of familiarity in the back of their mind upon noticing him. And Vangelis couldn't risk the crown prince of Colchis being attributed to a bar brawl.
With a slow and resigned exhale, therefore, Vangelis said nothing in response to the young woman’s suggestion verbally, but indicated his reply clear as day by bracing his big hands (still a little large in comparison to muscles still growing) upon the wood of the table and pushing himself to his feet. Whilst his youth had not yet added to his frame the full breadth of his shoulders and the blocks of muscle that would, in future times, transform the prince into a powerhouse of a man, Vangelis had developed to almost his full height. And four years away at war had given him a strength and domineering aura that were enough on their own to send the witnesses of his actions back to staring into the depths of their drinks.
Ignoring their reactions as best he could, Vangelis stepped out from behind his table, scooped up the mug of ale he had only recently been issued and followed the woman as the lilt of her head appeared to beckon.
Pausing at the door, so as that she might go first - his manners and upbringing not so easy to hide when teachings had already been crystallised into habit - Vangelis followed the stranger into a small courtyard out back from the tavern. Having expected to find some form of back alley where the refuse of the establishment collected - as was lurking at the rear of most such properties - Vangelis was surprised to note that the area was more for the use of customers. The courtyard was fashioned for outside dining, with a few benches laid about and a high hedgerow growing over the boxed in fence. The tavern occupied two of the four walls of the paved square, whilst growing greenery completed the opposite sides to almost the same height. The space was empty because the night was cold but such weather didn't seem to bother the woman who had led him there.
"You owe me nothing." Vangelis said, as the woman closed the door behind them, muting the general buzz of the public room, breaking the silence between them and referring to her previous thanks. They were the first words he had spoken to her and his voice was now deep with manhood and rough from sea breezes and salty air. "There is no debt for expecting a man to behave with propriety to a woman." His words were not bombastic or that of a hero but stated as simple fact. A natural chivalry that needed no thanks and demanded no attention. It was simply the way the world should work, as far as Vangelis was concerned. His mother had ensured such mentalities were strong in both he and his brothers.
Finding a spot for himself against the dank wall, Vangelis leaned back to brace his shoulder-blades against the structure, his heels supporting his weight, his thumb hooked into the waist of his loose pants and his other hand raising his drink to his lips. His hood was still up and there were no lights outside so his features were likely far harder to read than hers, given her skin almost glowed in the darkness.
"You should not visit such places unattended." He commented, with a nod towards the door they had just exited from. For a woman of her calibre was likely to draw attention wherever she went. And a low run tavern such as this was hardly a place where such attentions would be polite...
Thea felt a soft sense of smug satisfaction as the soldier stood from the table, a slight smirk tugging at her features as she stepped through the door. The evening light was gentle and seemed to somehow brighten the hues of the flowering trees that pressed against the stone walls of the courtyard. Dark patches of herb gardens lingered to one side while beneath the reaching branches sat a few stone benches. Wooden trellises supported fruit and flower vines extending far back beyond the low lamplight.
Seduction and intrigue were not her most powerful weapons, at least in comparison to Nethis. Her sister had long tried to strengthen Thea in her confidence, encouraging in a way that was borderline dictatorial yet always with some purpose. Thea knew that her strength came from learning, from reading, analysis, and understanding. Nethis had long tried to connect her purposes and actions with Thea's strengths, talking about analyzing situations and formulating outcomes and potentials. It made sense on paper and in conversation, but with a living, breathing human being, it was different. Only a year separated the sisters, and yet Thea had only in the past few months felt the bloom of her sexual desires unfolding in her core. Understanding that was one thing, using it was another.
By the time the soldier had stepped through into the courtyard, Thea had already crossed to one of the flowering trellises, her slender fingers reaching out to delicately touch the stamens that left a fine, golden powder on her fingertips. Instinctively, her thumb rubbed the pollen between it and her forefinger and she brought it to her nose to breathe. As she did so, he spoke, yet she did not turn around.
Do not give them too much attention, they are not intrigued by what they know they can have.
"Fine. Keep no debts," she offered with a light air, "The world is better without them."
After a long moment, she glanced over her shoulder, disappointed to find that his hood remained raised. For all she knew, he could be horribly disfigured, and yet the way he spoke and carried himself, she held out a modicum of hope that perhaps this effort would not be wasted.
At his advice, she could not help but smile and gently offered, "Nor should a soldier assault a man of equal or higher rank, civilian or not. If you don't tell, I won't."
Thea offered a slight wink and immediately regretted it, knowing that it would pale in comparison to Nethis' swarthy attempts. Turning away at that, a soft sigh of uncertainty escaped her nose. This was not her. It was not authentic, this approach. As much as she trusted her sister in her suggestions and influence, there were diametric differences between them when it came to such matters. Thea was no performer nor could she conjure the illusion of being one out of nowhere.
Glancing around the space, her eyes lighted on a rather surprising flower, one that she was familiar with from her tomes and from myths of old - the satirio orchid. Perhaps some old gardener had placed it here simply to add some variance to color, but there was no mistaking the mystical orchid that was believed to hold aphrodisiac qualities. Nethis and Evras both thought Thea's interest and infatuation with botany and the effects of various plants was odd to say the least, yet she found it utterly fascinating. It was an authentic love of hers.
Taking her forefinger and her thumb, she pinched one bud and then a second from the plant, speaking as she did so and crossed slowly to the man.
"Do you believe the stories of old? Of men who drank wine mixed with the satirio orchid and fell madly in love?" Thea let a soft laugh hum low in her throat as she tried to peer beneath the man's hood from where she stood. He was younger, that was certain, but his features were still masked from the light. "I don't believe that I do..."
With that, she pinched one orchid bud between her fingers, feeling the sweet sticky nectar ooze between them and dropped it into her glass of wine. The petals floated atop the glass like a small, crimson boat.
Unfolding her palm, she offered him the other bud.
He did not seem a man interested in much of that variety, and from his logical tones earlier on, might share in the idea of it simply being a myth. The question now remained - would he try? Was he at all curious? Or....was this simply not meant to be?
"Do you?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Thea felt a soft sense of smug satisfaction as the soldier stood from the table, a slight smirk tugging at her features as she stepped through the door. The evening light was gentle and seemed to somehow brighten the hues of the flowering trees that pressed against the stone walls of the courtyard. Dark patches of herb gardens lingered to one side while beneath the reaching branches sat a few stone benches. Wooden trellises supported fruit and flower vines extending far back beyond the low lamplight.
Seduction and intrigue were not her most powerful weapons, at least in comparison to Nethis. Her sister had long tried to strengthen Thea in her confidence, encouraging in a way that was borderline dictatorial yet always with some purpose. Thea knew that her strength came from learning, from reading, analysis, and understanding. Nethis had long tried to connect her purposes and actions with Thea's strengths, talking about analyzing situations and formulating outcomes and potentials. It made sense on paper and in conversation, but with a living, breathing human being, it was different. Only a year separated the sisters, and yet Thea had only in the past few months felt the bloom of her sexual desires unfolding in her core. Understanding that was one thing, using it was another.
By the time the soldier had stepped through into the courtyard, Thea had already crossed to one of the flowering trellises, her slender fingers reaching out to delicately touch the stamens that left a fine, golden powder on her fingertips. Instinctively, her thumb rubbed the pollen between it and her forefinger and she brought it to her nose to breathe. As she did so, he spoke, yet she did not turn around.
Do not give them too much attention, they are not intrigued by what they know they can have.
"Fine. Keep no debts," she offered with a light air, "The world is better without them."
After a long moment, she glanced over her shoulder, disappointed to find that his hood remained raised. For all she knew, he could be horribly disfigured, and yet the way he spoke and carried himself, she held out a modicum of hope that perhaps this effort would not be wasted.
At his advice, she could not help but smile and gently offered, "Nor should a soldier assault a man of equal or higher rank, civilian or not. If you don't tell, I won't."
Thea offered a slight wink and immediately regretted it, knowing that it would pale in comparison to Nethis' swarthy attempts. Turning away at that, a soft sigh of uncertainty escaped her nose. This was not her. It was not authentic, this approach. As much as she trusted her sister in her suggestions and influence, there were diametric differences between them when it came to such matters. Thea was no performer nor could she conjure the illusion of being one out of nowhere.
Glancing around the space, her eyes lighted on a rather surprising flower, one that she was familiar with from her tomes and from myths of old - the satirio orchid. Perhaps some old gardener had placed it here simply to add some variance to color, but there was no mistaking the mystical orchid that was believed to hold aphrodisiac qualities. Nethis and Evras both thought Thea's interest and infatuation with botany and the effects of various plants was odd to say the least, yet she found it utterly fascinating. It was an authentic love of hers.
Taking her forefinger and her thumb, she pinched one bud and then a second from the plant, speaking as she did so and crossed slowly to the man.
"Do you believe the stories of old? Of men who drank wine mixed with the satirio orchid and fell madly in love?" Thea let a soft laugh hum low in her throat as she tried to peer beneath the man's hood from where she stood. He was younger, that was certain, but his features were still masked from the light. "I don't believe that I do..."
With that, she pinched one orchid bud between her fingers, feeling the sweet sticky nectar ooze between them and dropped it into her glass of wine. The petals floated atop the glass like a small, crimson boat.
Unfolding her palm, she offered him the other bud.
He did not seem a man interested in much of that variety, and from his logical tones earlier on, might share in the idea of it simply being a myth. The question now remained - would he try? Was he at all curious? Or....was this simply not meant to be?
"Do you?"
Thea felt a soft sense of smug satisfaction as the soldier stood from the table, a slight smirk tugging at her features as she stepped through the door. The evening light was gentle and seemed to somehow brighten the hues of the flowering trees that pressed against the stone walls of the courtyard. Dark patches of herb gardens lingered to one side while beneath the reaching branches sat a few stone benches. Wooden trellises supported fruit and flower vines extending far back beyond the low lamplight.
Seduction and intrigue were not her most powerful weapons, at least in comparison to Nethis. Her sister had long tried to strengthen Thea in her confidence, encouraging in a way that was borderline dictatorial yet always with some purpose. Thea knew that her strength came from learning, from reading, analysis, and understanding. Nethis had long tried to connect her purposes and actions with Thea's strengths, talking about analyzing situations and formulating outcomes and potentials. It made sense on paper and in conversation, but with a living, breathing human being, it was different. Only a year separated the sisters, and yet Thea had only in the past few months felt the bloom of her sexual desires unfolding in her core. Understanding that was one thing, using it was another.
By the time the soldier had stepped through into the courtyard, Thea had already crossed to one of the flowering trellises, her slender fingers reaching out to delicately touch the stamens that left a fine, golden powder on her fingertips. Instinctively, her thumb rubbed the pollen between it and her forefinger and she brought it to her nose to breathe. As she did so, he spoke, yet she did not turn around.
Do not give them too much attention, they are not intrigued by what they know they can have.
"Fine. Keep no debts," she offered with a light air, "The world is better without them."
After a long moment, she glanced over her shoulder, disappointed to find that his hood remained raised. For all she knew, he could be horribly disfigured, and yet the way he spoke and carried himself, she held out a modicum of hope that perhaps this effort would not be wasted.
At his advice, she could not help but smile and gently offered, "Nor should a soldier assault a man of equal or higher rank, civilian or not. If you don't tell, I won't."
Thea offered a slight wink and immediately regretted it, knowing that it would pale in comparison to Nethis' swarthy attempts. Turning away at that, a soft sigh of uncertainty escaped her nose. This was not her. It was not authentic, this approach. As much as she trusted her sister in her suggestions and influence, there were diametric differences between them when it came to such matters. Thea was no performer nor could she conjure the illusion of being one out of nowhere.
Glancing around the space, her eyes lighted on a rather surprising flower, one that she was familiar with from her tomes and from myths of old - the satirio orchid. Perhaps some old gardener had placed it here simply to add some variance to color, but there was no mistaking the mystical orchid that was believed to hold aphrodisiac qualities. Nethis and Evras both thought Thea's interest and infatuation with botany and the effects of various plants was odd to say the least, yet she found it utterly fascinating. It was an authentic love of hers.
Taking her forefinger and her thumb, she pinched one bud and then a second from the plant, speaking as she did so and crossed slowly to the man.
"Do you believe the stories of old? Of men who drank wine mixed with the satirio orchid and fell madly in love?" Thea let a soft laugh hum low in her throat as she tried to peer beneath the man's hood from where she stood. He was younger, that was certain, but his features were still masked from the light. "I don't believe that I do..."
With that, she pinched one orchid bud between her fingers, feeling the sweet sticky nectar ooze between them and dropped it into her glass of wine. The petals floated atop the glass like a small, crimson boat.
Unfolding her palm, she offered him the other bud.
He did not seem a man interested in much of that variety, and from his logical tones earlier on, might share in the idea of it simply being a myth. The question now remained - would he try? Was he at all curious? Or....was this simply not meant to be?
"Do you?"
Vangelis watched the woman as she prowled the confines of the little courtyard they currently occupied with privacy. Any one of the many patrons within the tavern against which he stood could walk through the door they had vacated, or lean out of the thin hollow windows listed above to witness them. Neither of the occupants of the little square, cobbled space seemed to mind the potential for interruption. For there was nothing to be interrupted as yet.
It wasn't until the young woman failed to leave Vangelis alone in the backyard of the bar - simply disappear through the small gate upon which the hedgerow was encroaching or thanked him and then returned to the lively atmosphere of the common room the other side of the door - that his mindset started to change from curious bystander to an active party in the circumstance she was casting.
As the woman moved around the open space, inspecting the blossoms among the green flora and speaking in a lazy and throaty tone, Vangelis felt his skin become sensitised, his instincts more vibrant. His gaze watched the way she moved, the way she spoke. There was a certain turn of her head that was pretty and set her long mane of dark hair dropping back over her shoulder, the thick locks glossy in the moonlight. Her skin practically glowed in the night-time she was so pale and Vangelis suspected that his own tanned skin - what little was on show anyway - and his nondescript closing at him looking like a dark wraith or shadow against the wall.
He moved as if he were her shadow, his head turning to watch her and her confident step, his hand rising when hers did - she to touch the plant life and he to sip from his cup.
When she mentioned of holding no debts, he felt a tension in his shoulders leave him and his muscles start to relax. She was straight forward. He liked that. He said nothing in response to her comment about the world being better without one being indebted to others despite him personally agreeing. He liked the freedom that she was indicating if one extrapolated her words and actions...
She was clearly a woman from a family of some wealth. She moved with an assurance of person and possessed skin and hair well cared for. Yet she travelled with no servants or retainers. She had offered to repay him for his actions, suggesting a decent moral core, yet openly admitted to preferring a world in which no debts were required. She spoke of his actions against an equal or higher-ranking officer as if, socially, they were inappropriate - and yet her tone held no chastisement.
In total... this was a woman who was fully aware of how the world worked. And yet was far more interesting in pursuing her own ends and means within it, how she saw fit. And she didn't hold people to things...
Noting the low spark of desire that had set off in his gut since puberty whenever a woman of her beauty was in his vicinity, Vangelis wondered if this would extend to holding a crown prince to task for any intimacies shared. He might have been getting ahead of himself in such ideas but she hadn't left his company yet, despite ample opportunity to do so. She had even orchestrated them both into a situation where they were alone...
When she talked of old folklore of plants and herbs creating changes in behaviour, Vangelis felt his brow drop into a frown within the shadows of his cowl, whilst his body temperature seemed to rise. Such a change of topic hinted what it should of her intentions but it also smelt a little of witchcraft. Unless she was speaking of the games the Gods liked to play with mortals...
Vangelis watched as the woman approached with her cup already tainted by the juice of the flower bud, her fingers, damp with the nectar, holding out the second of two so that he might take advantage of the stories and challenge their truth for himself.
Not one to play games, nor one experienced in the art of courtship, wooing or any other subtle skill that would involve peppering the lady with compliments or pandering to her ideas, Vangelis simply took the flower from her pale fingertips and placed it, and his goblet, onto the slabbed floor beneath their feet, several inches from his right boot. He then reached out and removed her own up from her grasp, before she could sip from it and set it down beside his own, the surface of the wine inside sloshing a little over the rim.
"I prefer not to tempt the Gods." He told the woman, in explanation for his removal of the orchid and its supposed powers from the situation. "You never know when one might be watching and intent on chastising the overly adventurous."
But, as if in penance or reciprocity for foiling her attempts to tempt or seduce - for even Vangelis was no inexperienced enough to recognise such a moment from a complete stranger - the crown prince offered up his own attempts at intimacy...
He removed his hood.
Reaching up, Vangelis' long and dark fingers curled around the rim of his cowl and pulled it back from his face so that it would hang down between his shoulder blades. The little courtyard was still dark with night-time hush but the moon and starlight were strong enough to produce at least a basic impression of his features. His angular shape, his stoic expression, his hard facial lines...
If the woman before him recognised him, he would leave. If she dropped into a curtsy or formal greeting, he would order her to never mention their meeting (specifically the violence he had enacted upon another man) and then leave, allowing her to assume the entire thing to be a misunderstanding or even a drink induced hallucination. If she didn't recognise him as the prince of the realm... Well... the comments and thoughts of the men he had fought beside for the last four years were ringing in his head... That a man wasn't a man until he had bedded a woman. That that woman didn't have to be marriage material. That he just had to find a willing body in a brothel or tavern to learn the ways of desire...
His expression remained calm, hiding his inner thoughts as he stared down at the woman, awaiting a reaction that would decide his next choice...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Vangelis watched the woman as she prowled the confines of the little courtyard they currently occupied with privacy. Any one of the many patrons within the tavern against which he stood could walk through the door they had vacated, or lean out of the thin hollow windows listed above to witness them. Neither of the occupants of the little square, cobbled space seemed to mind the potential for interruption. For there was nothing to be interrupted as yet.
It wasn't until the young woman failed to leave Vangelis alone in the backyard of the bar - simply disappear through the small gate upon which the hedgerow was encroaching or thanked him and then returned to the lively atmosphere of the common room the other side of the door - that his mindset started to change from curious bystander to an active party in the circumstance she was casting.
As the woman moved around the open space, inspecting the blossoms among the green flora and speaking in a lazy and throaty tone, Vangelis felt his skin become sensitised, his instincts more vibrant. His gaze watched the way she moved, the way she spoke. There was a certain turn of her head that was pretty and set her long mane of dark hair dropping back over her shoulder, the thick locks glossy in the moonlight. Her skin practically glowed in the night-time she was so pale and Vangelis suspected that his own tanned skin - what little was on show anyway - and his nondescript closing at him looking like a dark wraith or shadow against the wall.
He moved as if he were her shadow, his head turning to watch her and her confident step, his hand rising when hers did - she to touch the plant life and he to sip from his cup.
When she mentioned of holding no debts, he felt a tension in his shoulders leave him and his muscles start to relax. She was straight forward. He liked that. He said nothing in response to her comment about the world being better without one being indebted to others despite him personally agreeing. He liked the freedom that she was indicating if one extrapolated her words and actions...
She was clearly a woman from a family of some wealth. She moved with an assurance of person and possessed skin and hair well cared for. Yet she travelled with no servants or retainers. She had offered to repay him for his actions, suggesting a decent moral core, yet openly admitted to preferring a world in which no debts were required. She spoke of his actions against an equal or higher-ranking officer as if, socially, they were inappropriate - and yet her tone held no chastisement.
In total... this was a woman who was fully aware of how the world worked. And yet was far more interesting in pursuing her own ends and means within it, how she saw fit. And she didn't hold people to things...
Noting the low spark of desire that had set off in his gut since puberty whenever a woman of her beauty was in his vicinity, Vangelis wondered if this would extend to holding a crown prince to task for any intimacies shared. He might have been getting ahead of himself in such ideas but she hadn't left his company yet, despite ample opportunity to do so. She had even orchestrated them both into a situation where they were alone...
When she talked of old folklore of plants and herbs creating changes in behaviour, Vangelis felt his brow drop into a frown within the shadows of his cowl, whilst his body temperature seemed to rise. Such a change of topic hinted what it should of her intentions but it also smelt a little of witchcraft. Unless she was speaking of the games the Gods liked to play with mortals...
Vangelis watched as the woman approached with her cup already tainted by the juice of the flower bud, her fingers, damp with the nectar, holding out the second of two so that he might take advantage of the stories and challenge their truth for himself.
Not one to play games, nor one experienced in the art of courtship, wooing or any other subtle skill that would involve peppering the lady with compliments or pandering to her ideas, Vangelis simply took the flower from her pale fingertips and placed it, and his goblet, onto the slabbed floor beneath their feet, several inches from his right boot. He then reached out and removed her own up from her grasp, before she could sip from it and set it down beside his own, the surface of the wine inside sloshing a little over the rim.
"I prefer not to tempt the Gods." He told the woman, in explanation for his removal of the orchid and its supposed powers from the situation. "You never know when one might be watching and intent on chastising the overly adventurous."
But, as if in penance or reciprocity for foiling her attempts to tempt or seduce - for even Vangelis was no inexperienced enough to recognise such a moment from a complete stranger - the crown prince offered up his own attempts at intimacy...
He removed his hood.
Reaching up, Vangelis' long and dark fingers curled around the rim of his cowl and pulled it back from his face so that it would hang down between his shoulder blades. The little courtyard was still dark with night-time hush but the moon and starlight were strong enough to produce at least a basic impression of his features. His angular shape, his stoic expression, his hard facial lines...
If the woman before him recognised him, he would leave. If she dropped into a curtsy or formal greeting, he would order her to never mention their meeting (specifically the violence he had enacted upon another man) and then leave, allowing her to assume the entire thing to be a misunderstanding or even a drink induced hallucination. If she didn't recognise him as the prince of the realm... Well... the comments and thoughts of the men he had fought beside for the last four years were ringing in his head... That a man wasn't a man until he had bedded a woman. That that woman didn't have to be marriage material. That he just had to find a willing body in a brothel or tavern to learn the ways of desire...
His expression remained calm, hiding his inner thoughts as he stared down at the woman, awaiting a reaction that would decide his next choice...
Vangelis watched the woman as she prowled the confines of the little courtyard they currently occupied with privacy. Any one of the many patrons within the tavern against which he stood could walk through the door they had vacated, or lean out of the thin hollow windows listed above to witness them. Neither of the occupants of the little square, cobbled space seemed to mind the potential for interruption. For there was nothing to be interrupted as yet.
It wasn't until the young woman failed to leave Vangelis alone in the backyard of the bar - simply disappear through the small gate upon which the hedgerow was encroaching or thanked him and then returned to the lively atmosphere of the common room the other side of the door - that his mindset started to change from curious bystander to an active party in the circumstance she was casting.
As the woman moved around the open space, inspecting the blossoms among the green flora and speaking in a lazy and throaty tone, Vangelis felt his skin become sensitised, his instincts more vibrant. His gaze watched the way she moved, the way she spoke. There was a certain turn of her head that was pretty and set her long mane of dark hair dropping back over her shoulder, the thick locks glossy in the moonlight. Her skin practically glowed in the night-time she was so pale and Vangelis suspected that his own tanned skin - what little was on show anyway - and his nondescript closing at him looking like a dark wraith or shadow against the wall.
He moved as if he were her shadow, his head turning to watch her and her confident step, his hand rising when hers did - she to touch the plant life and he to sip from his cup.
When she mentioned of holding no debts, he felt a tension in his shoulders leave him and his muscles start to relax. She was straight forward. He liked that. He said nothing in response to her comment about the world being better without one being indebted to others despite him personally agreeing. He liked the freedom that she was indicating if one extrapolated her words and actions...
She was clearly a woman from a family of some wealth. She moved with an assurance of person and possessed skin and hair well cared for. Yet she travelled with no servants or retainers. She had offered to repay him for his actions, suggesting a decent moral core, yet openly admitted to preferring a world in which no debts were required. She spoke of his actions against an equal or higher-ranking officer as if, socially, they were inappropriate - and yet her tone held no chastisement.
In total... this was a woman who was fully aware of how the world worked. And yet was far more interesting in pursuing her own ends and means within it, how she saw fit. And she didn't hold people to things...
Noting the low spark of desire that had set off in his gut since puberty whenever a woman of her beauty was in his vicinity, Vangelis wondered if this would extend to holding a crown prince to task for any intimacies shared. He might have been getting ahead of himself in such ideas but she hadn't left his company yet, despite ample opportunity to do so. She had even orchestrated them both into a situation where they were alone...
When she talked of old folklore of plants and herbs creating changes in behaviour, Vangelis felt his brow drop into a frown within the shadows of his cowl, whilst his body temperature seemed to rise. Such a change of topic hinted what it should of her intentions but it also smelt a little of witchcraft. Unless she was speaking of the games the Gods liked to play with mortals...
Vangelis watched as the woman approached with her cup already tainted by the juice of the flower bud, her fingers, damp with the nectar, holding out the second of two so that he might take advantage of the stories and challenge their truth for himself.
Not one to play games, nor one experienced in the art of courtship, wooing or any other subtle skill that would involve peppering the lady with compliments or pandering to her ideas, Vangelis simply took the flower from her pale fingertips and placed it, and his goblet, onto the slabbed floor beneath their feet, several inches from his right boot. He then reached out and removed her own up from her grasp, before she could sip from it and set it down beside his own, the surface of the wine inside sloshing a little over the rim.
"I prefer not to tempt the Gods." He told the woman, in explanation for his removal of the orchid and its supposed powers from the situation. "You never know when one might be watching and intent on chastising the overly adventurous."
But, as if in penance or reciprocity for foiling her attempts to tempt or seduce - for even Vangelis was no inexperienced enough to recognise such a moment from a complete stranger - the crown prince offered up his own attempts at intimacy...
He removed his hood.
Reaching up, Vangelis' long and dark fingers curled around the rim of his cowl and pulled it back from his face so that it would hang down between his shoulder blades. The little courtyard was still dark with night-time hush but the moon and starlight were strong enough to produce at least a basic impression of his features. His angular shape, his stoic expression, his hard facial lines...
If the woman before him recognised him, he would leave. If she dropped into a curtsy or formal greeting, he would order her to never mention their meeting (specifically the violence he had enacted upon another man) and then leave, allowing her to assume the entire thing to be a misunderstanding or even a drink induced hallucination. If she didn't recognise him as the prince of the realm... Well... the comments and thoughts of the men he had fought beside for the last four years were ringing in his head... That a man wasn't a man until he had bedded a woman. That that woman didn't have to be marriage material. That he just had to find a willing body in a brothel or tavern to learn the ways of desire...
His expression remained calm, hiding his inner thoughts as he stared down at the woman, awaiting a reaction that would decide his next choice...
Thea looked up at him through long lashes as the soldier took the bud from her hand and set it aside, taking both of their cups to do so as well. At his words, a slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. For a man who had just smashed in the face of an unsuspecting stranger, she could not help but find the irony in his caution. It was a valid concern, though being blinded by her youth, Thea felt that there was no harm in being adventurous. After all, if people tread the world overly cautiously, none of her favorite stories and tales would exist.
"Fair enough," she remarked, with a soft shrug. "I can imagine you would seek a reprieve from adventure after a time."
It was then that he pulled away his hood, revealing a face that seemed far younger than the voice let on. Tanned and weathered, with a stoic air and steely eyes, Thea could imagine him becoming quite the epitome of Colchian steel and stone with time. Yet, there was unmistakable youth in the tightness of his jawline and the angles of his features. There was an instant attraction, fueled by a mysterious sensation deep within her core that whispered to her.
From a young age, Thea had the oddest of habits that formed, where her gaze could persist without blinking for quite some time. Often told by her mother and father to 'stop staring', she had become more conscious of it as she entered the age of court, though old habits died hard. It was interesting for her to recognize the same attribute in the young man before her, his eyes unblinking as he stared down at her.
Unable to resist, she matched his stare with one of her own. Not as a challenge or for the laugh, but because such a thing came to her far more naturally than coy turns of phrases and outright flirtations. The more her gaze remained on his, the more she thought perhaps they were more alike than they were different. He was quiet and stoic, the perfect picture of a soldier, and yet he held some sort of trepidation prior to removing his cowl. It was as if he had something to hide...or it could have simply been in his nature...
Thea held no romantic tendencies for the most part, knowing that in a few years time, either her father or Nethis would have some grand plan for her to marry as a piece of the ever developing political games of the world. Romance was not in it. However, finding someone 'like her' was not something she anticipated, and yet, there was the faintest of hopes that perhaps there was some likeness between them. There was certainly attraction, a pull between them that was as silent and strong as their mutual stares.
"When do you depart?" she asked quietly, a simple query that had the potential for deeper meaning beneath it. The night had yet to truly begin, with the last vestiges of light blue turning to deep indigo and stretching shadows along the wall of the courtyard.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Thea looked up at him through long lashes as the soldier took the bud from her hand and set it aside, taking both of their cups to do so as well. At his words, a slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. For a man who had just smashed in the face of an unsuspecting stranger, she could not help but find the irony in his caution. It was a valid concern, though being blinded by her youth, Thea felt that there was no harm in being adventurous. After all, if people tread the world overly cautiously, none of her favorite stories and tales would exist.
"Fair enough," she remarked, with a soft shrug. "I can imagine you would seek a reprieve from adventure after a time."
It was then that he pulled away his hood, revealing a face that seemed far younger than the voice let on. Tanned and weathered, with a stoic air and steely eyes, Thea could imagine him becoming quite the epitome of Colchian steel and stone with time. Yet, there was unmistakable youth in the tightness of his jawline and the angles of his features. There was an instant attraction, fueled by a mysterious sensation deep within her core that whispered to her.
From a young age, Thea had the oddest of habits that formed, where her gaze could persist without blinking for quite some time. Often told by her mother and father to 'stop staring', she had become more conscious of it as she entered the age of court, though old habits died hard. It was interesting for her to recognize the same attribute in the young man before her, his eyes unblinking as he stared down at her.
Unable to resist, she matched his stare with one of her own. Not as a challenge or for the laugh, but because such a thing came to her far more naturally than coy turns of phrases and outright flirtations. The more her gaze remained on his, the more she thought perhaps they were more alike than they were different. He was quiet and stoic, the perfect picture of a soldier, and yet he held some sort of trepidation prior to removing his cowl. It was as if he had something to hide...or it could have simply been in his nature...
Thea held no romantic tendencies for the most part, knowing that in a few years time, either her father or Nethis would have some grand plan for her to marry as a piece of the ever developing political games of the world. Romance was not in it. However, finding someone 'like her' was not something she anticipated, and yet, there was the faintest of hopes that perhaps there was some likeness between them. There was certainly attraction, a pull between them that was as silent and strong as their mutual stares.
"When do you depart?" she asked quietly, a simple query that had the potential for deeper meaning beneath it. The night had yet to truly begin, with the last vestiges of light blue turning to deep indigo and stretching shadows along the wall of the courtyard.
Thea looked up at him through long lashes as the soldier took the bud from her hand and set it aside, taking both of their cups to do so as well. At his words, a slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. For a man who had just smashed in the face of an unsuspecting stranger, she could not help but find the irony in his caution. It was a valid concern, though being blinded by her youth, Thea felt that there was no harm in being adventurous. After all, if people tread the world overly cautiously, none of her favorite stories and tales would exist.
"Fair enough," she remarked, with a soft shrug. "I can imagine you would seek a reprieve from adventure after a time."
It was then that he pulled away his hood, revealing a face that seemed far younger than the voice let on. Tanned and weathered, with a stoic air and steely eyes, Thea could imagine him becoming quite the epitome of Colchian steel and stone with time. Yet, there was unmistakable youth in the tightness of his jawline and the angles of his features. There was an instant attraction, fueled by a mysterious sensation deep within her core that whispered to her.
From a young age, Thea had the oddest of habits that formed, where her gaze could persist without blinking for quite some time. Often told by her mother and father to 'stop staring', she had become more conscious of it as she entered the age of court, though old habits died hard. It was interesting for her to recognize the same attribute in the young man before her, his eyes unblinking as he stared down at her.
Unable to resist, she matched his stare with one of her own. Not as a challenge or for the laugh, but because such a thing came to her far more naturally than coy turns of phrases and outright flirtations. The more her gaze remained on his, the more she thought perhaps they were more alike than they were different. He was quiet and stoic, the perfect picture of a soldier, and yet he held some sort of trepidation prior to removing his cowl. It was as if he had something to hide...or it could have simply been in his nature...
Thea held no romantic tendencies for the most part, knowing that in a few years time, either her father or Nethis would have some grand plan for her to marry as a piece of the ever developing political games of the world. Romance was not in it. However, finding someone 'like her' was not something she anticipated, and yet, there was the faintest of hopes that perhaps there was some likeness between them. There was certainly attraction, a pull between them that was as silent and strong as their mutual stares.
"When do you depart?" she asked quietly, a simple query that had the potential for deeper meaning beneath it. The night had yet to truly begin, with the last vestiges of light blue turning to deep indigo and stretching shadows along the wall of the courtyard.
Vangelis didn't respond to the first comment the young woman made in reference to taking reprieve from adventurous times. He could only assume she thought war and battles to be something of adventure; a means to display heroism, courage and valour. He couldn't blame her or think less of her for her assumptions. As a woman she would know little of what real war was and that was exactly the way that it should be. Vangelis and men like him didn't go to war, keeping the violence far away from home, only to bring back gruesome tales that stripped away the tales of bravery that the innocent clung to. As such, however, it meant that he was unsure how to respond to her words. He was not a man who enjoyed lying, nor did he pander to the words of courtiers for the sake for fitting in. He had always been taught that - as a future General in the making, and as crown prince of his kingdom - he was to set the standard by which everyone else adhered to, rather than cater to the ideals of others.
Luckily, the young woman didn't appear to feel the need for a response from him. So, his lips remained together - stoic and square in resolution.
He watched carefully as he removed his hood and offered his face for her assessment for the first time, not at all put off by her tendency to stare. As someone who failed to follow the social obligations of blinking or turning away just to ensure that another did not feel awkward, the long stare was neither surprising nor off-putting for him. Instead, he simply stared back, assessing her features as she did his. His gaze drifted lower, openly perusing her from head to toe, now that his vision was no longer hindered by a large lip of fabric over his brow.
He had been right in his original assessment. The woman was clearly a Colchian beauty. hair as dark as night, pale skin - unusual but not to the extent that it was rare and only hinted at a heritage of wealth behind her - and a body that was both curved in feminine glory but strong in frame and shape. She was no simpering waif or elegant sprite, but a woman of bold lines and powerful stance. Vangelis swallowed, his fingers clenching and releasing at his sides as he watched her reactions.
Assured that she did not recognise him, Vangelis felt his skin heat when she continued to stare regardless of recognition. As if she liked what she saw. Given that he had been in the mines of Midas and then in the northern lands fighting since he was thirteen and a half years of age, few women had ever looked at his grown physique in a way that suggested an attraction - they had not been present in order to do it. This was Vangelis' first experience of a feminine gaze showing desire for his form.
When she asked him when he was to depart from Megaris it was clear that she considered him to be a career soldier - a bird of passage and flight, who would soon be gone. It was also clear from the way in which this did not still her attentions that such a temporary appearance in her hometown was not at all demotivating for her. In fact, it seemed to make her eyes gleam a little stronger; as if his being a literal ship in the night was far more to her preference than him existing in her orbit for longer than a single cycle of the sun or moon.
"Dawn." The single word slipped from between his lips with a gruffness that almost made it hard to make out. "I sail at dawn." He glanced towards the door of the tavern to ensure that they remained alone as he spoke his next words. "I was encouraged by my fellow sailors to seek out a woman of Megaris for company until then..."
Vangelis had never been one for subtlety.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Vangelis didn't respond to the first comment the young woman made in reference to taking reprieve from adventurous times. He could only assume she thought war and battles to be something of adventure; a means to display heroism, courage and valour. He couldn't blame her or think less of her for her assumptions. As a woman she would know little of what real war was and that was exactly the way that it should be. Vangelis and men like him didn't go to war, keeping the violence far away from home, only to bring back gruesome tales that stripped away the tales of bravery that the innocent clung to. As such, however, it meant that he was unsure how to respond to her words. He was not a man who enjoyed lying, nor did he pander to the words of courtiers for the sake for fitting in. He had always been taught that - as a future General in the making, and as crown prince of his kingdom - he was to set the standard by which everyone else adhered to, rather than cater to the ideals of others.
Luckily, the young woman didn't appear to feel the need for a response from him. So, his lips remained together - stoic and square in resolution.
He watched carefully as he removed his hood and offered his face for her assessment for the first time, not at all put off by her tendency to stare. As someone who failed to follow the social obligations of blinking or turning away just to ensure that another did not feel awkward, the long stare was neither surprising nor off-putting for him. Instead, he simply stared back, assessing her features as she did his. His gaze drifted lower, openly perusing her from head to toe, now that his vision was no longer hindered by a large lip of fabric over his brow.
He had been right in his original assessment. The woman was clearly a Colchian beauty. hair as dark as night, pale skin - unusual but not to the extent that it was rare and only hinted at a heritage of wealth behind her - and a body that was both curved in feminine glory but strong in frame and shape. She was no simpering waif or elegant sprite, but a woman of bold lines and powerful stance. Vangelis swallowed, his fingers clenching and releasing at his sides as he watched her reactions.
Assured that she did not recognise him, Vangelis felt his skin heat when she continued to stare regardless of recognition. As if she liked what she saw. Given that he had been in the mines of Midas and then in the northern lands fighting since he was thirteen and a half years of age, few women had ever looked at his grown physique in a way that suggested an attraction - they had not been present in order to do it. This was Vangelis' first experience of a feminine gaze showing desire for his form.
When she asked him when he was to depart from Megaris it was clear that she considered him to be a career soldier - a bird of passage and flight, who would soon be gone. It was also clear from the way in which this did not still her attentions that such a temporary appearance in her hometown was not at all demotivating for her. In fact, it seemed to make her eyes gleam a little stronger; as if his being a literal ship in the night was far more to her preference than him existing in her orbit for longer than a single cycle of the sun or moon.
"Dawn." The single word slipped from between his lips with a gruffness that almost made it hard to make out. "I sail at dawn." He glanced towards the door of the tavern to ensure that they remained alone as he spoke his next words. "I was encouraged by my fellow sailors to seek out a woman of Megaris for company until then..."
Vangelis had never been one for subtlety.
Vangelis didn't respond to the first comment the young woman made in reference to taking reprieve from adventurous times. He could only assume she thought war and battles to be something of adventure; a means to display heroism, courage and valour. He couldn't blame her or think less of her for her assumptions. As a woman she would know little of what real war was and that was exactly the way that it should be. Vangelis and men like him didn't go to war, keeping the violence far away from home, only to bring back gruesome tales that stripped away the tales of bravery that the innocent clung to. As such, however, it meant that he was unsure how to respond to her words. He was not a man who enjoyed lying, nor did he pander to the words of courtiers for the sake for fitting in. He had always been taught that - as a future General in the making, and as crown prince of his kingdom - he was to set the standard by which everyone else adhered to, rather than cater to the ideals of others.
Luckily, the young woman didn't appear to feel the need for a response from him. So, his lips remained together - stoic and square in resolution.
He watched carefully as he removed his hood and offered his face for her assessment for the first time, not at all put off by her tendency to stare. As someone who failed to follow the social obligations of blinking or turning away just to ensure that another did not feel awkward, the long stare was neither surprising nor off-putting for him. Instead, he simply stared back, assessing her features as she did his. His gaze drifted lower, openly perusing her from head to toe, now that his vision was no longer hindered by a large lip of fabric over his brow.
He had been right in his original assessment. The woman was clearly a Colchian beauty. hair as dark as night, pale skin - unusual but not to the extent that it was rare and only hinted at a heritage of wealth behind her - and a body that was both curved in feminine glory but strong in frame and shape. She was no simpering waif or elegant sprite, but a woman of bold lines and powerful stance. Vangelis swallowed, his fingers clenching and releasing at his sides as he watched her reactions.
Assured that she did not recognise him, Vangelis felt his skin heat when she continued to stare regardless of recognition. As if she liked what she saw. Given that he had been in the mines of Midas and then in the northern lands fighting since he was thirteen and a half years of age, few women had ever looked at his grown physique in a way that suggested an attraction - they had not been present in order to do it. This was Vangelis' first experience of a feminine gaze showing desire for his form.
When she asked him when he was to depart from Megaris it was clear that she considered him to be a career soldier - a bird of passage and flight, who would soon be gone. It was also clear from the way in which this did not still her attentions that such a temporary appearance in her hometown was not at all demotivating for her. In fact, it seemed to make her eyes gleam a little stronger; as if his being a literal ship in the night was far more to her preference than him existing in her orbit for longer than a single cycle of the sun or moon.
"Dawn." The single word slipped from between his lips with a gruffness that almost made it hard to make out. "I sail at dawn." He glanced towards the door of the tavern to ensure that they remained alone as he spoke his next words. "I was encouraged by my fellow sailors to seek out a woman of Megaris for company until then..."
Vangelis had never been one for subtlety.
Thea did not blink as she took a moment to take in his full form. Stoic, like many of the men who joined the ranks of the Colchian military, there was still an elegant beauty to his features. Odd, she knew, to think of a man as beautiful, but the distinct curves of his lips seemed to contrast so sharply with his arrow-straight nose. His stature did not completely dwarf her, but made her truly feel petite, despite the newness of her burgeoning curves.
In a flash of thought, she imagined the muscles hidden beneath the cloak, honed by months of training and then combat. Yes, perhaps that was it. It was the thought of his strength that seemed to make her feel so small and make her breath draw short as she wondered. Did he have scars? Scars were attractive if one did not think long enough about how they were formed. It showed perseverance and survival, a separate kind of strength that a man could bear.
To be fair, though, that was not the strength she wondered about as she felt an unfamiliar warmth of desire pool deep within her core.
He answered her question, and truly, she had known the answer before he spoke it. Megaris was known as a popular stop between the lands afar and Midas, the last hurrah either leaving the kingdom or returning. Either way, it was a town in which memories were made for young men looking for a distraction.
Her chest seemed to rise and fall more distinctly as his words brought them both to the precipice of a decision. Nethis would be so proud of her, but in this moment, it was not about her. There was something more carnal and primitive inside of her that yearned for this, not as an operative in some grand scheme her sister insisted on brewing, but an almost pulsating desire that she wanted to fulfill herself.
Virginity be damned, she wanted this.
Her hand raised, graceful and slow, until it came to rest on his chest, nestling in the valley between the proud muscles. Her assumption surrounding his musculature was right and her own chest rose with a deep inhale as the nerves of her body seemed to be set alight in a way that was unfamiliar to her.
This was what Nethis spoke of: desire. It was clear that men desired women, and it was far more visible given the different ways the gods had shaped the bodies of man and woman. Still, to feel it herself was different than it simply being explained. It almost burned beneath her skin and she found herself craving it.
Thea blinked rapidly, realizing that she had not yet responded to his suggestion.
"I am no 'woman of Megaris' in such a sense," she replied, the words bearing a breathiness they had lacked before. For a moment, she could almost feel the pulsing of her blood through her veins, but chose not to overthink it. "But, I will be your company until dawn."
It was not a coy response but more of a statement. And agreement, even. In these few interactions, they held the same purposeful nature in common. Coy games were for Nethis, utter romance was for Evras.
This bold embrace of desire was for Thea.
At last, she turned her face up to find their eyes aligned, neither closed or blinking. Their breath intermingled, as if asking one final question: are you certain?
Yes, she was.
All it took was one half of a step closer, her foot not even leaving the ground as she slid it forward, before her softly parted lips met his.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Thea did not blink as she took a moment to take in his full form. Stoic, like many of the men who joined the ranks of the Colchian military, there was still an elegant beauty to his features. Odd, she knew, to think of a man as beautiful, but the distinct curves of his lips seemed to contrast so sharply with his arrow-straight nose. His stature did not completely dwarf her, but made her truly feel petite, despite the newness of her burgeoning curves.
In a flash of thought, she imagined the muscles hidden beneath the cloak, honed by months of training and then combat. Yes, perhaps that was it. It was the thought of his strength that seemed to make her feel so small and make her breath draw short as she wondered. Did he have scars? Scars were attractive if one did not think long enough about how they were formed. It showed perseverance and survival, a separate kind of strength that a man could bear.
To be fair, though, that was not the strength she wondered about as she felt an unfamiliar warmth of desire pool deep within her core.
He answered her question, and truly, she had known the answer before he spoke it. Megaris was known as a popular stop between the lands afar and Midas, the last hurrah either leaving the kingdom or returning. Either way, it was a town in which memories were made for young men looking for a distraction.
Her chest seemed to rise and fall more distinctly as his words brought them both to the precipice of a decision. Nethis would be so proud of her, but in this moment, it was not about her. There was something more carnal and primitive inside of her that yearned for this, not as an operative in some grand scheme her sister insisted on brewing, but an almost pulsating desire that she wanted to fulfill herself.
Virginity be damned, she wanted this.
Her hand raised, graceful and slow, until it came to rest on his chest, nestling in the valley between the proud muscles. Her assumption surrounding his musculature was right and her own chest rose with a deep inhale as the nerves of her body seemed to be set alight in a way that was unfamiliar to her.
This was what Nethis spoke of: desire. It was clear that men desired women, and it was far more visible given the different ways the gods had shaped the bodies of man and woman. Still, to feel it herself was different than it simply being explained. It almost burned beneath her skin and she found herself craving it.
Thea blinked rapidly, realizing that she had not yet responded to his suggestion.
"I am no 'woman of Megaris' in such a sense," she replied, the words bearing a breathiness they had lacked before. For a moment, she could almost feel the pulsing of her blood through her veins, but chose not to overthink it. "But, I will be your company until dawn."
It was not a coy response but more of a statement. And agreement, even. In these few interactions, they held the same purposeful nature in common. Coy games were for Nethis, utter romance was for Evras.
This bold embrace of desire was for Thea.
At last, she turned her face up to find their eyes aligned, neither closed or blinking. Their breath intermingled, as if asking one final question: are you certain?
Yes, she was.
All it took was one half of a step closer, her foot not even leaving the ground as she slid it forward, before her softly parted lips met his.
Thea did not blink as she took a moment to take in his full form. Stoic, like many of the men who joined the ranks of the Colchian military, there was still an elegant beauty to his features. Odd, she knew, to think of a man as beautiful, but the distinct curves of his lips seemed to contrast so sharply with his arrow-straight nose. His stature did not completely dwarf her, but made her truly feel petite, despite the newness of her burgeoning curves.
In a flash of thought, she imagined the muscles hidden beneath the cloak, honed by months of training and then combat. Yes, perhaps that was it. It was the thought of his strength that seemed to make her feel so small and make her breath draw short as she wondered. Did he have scars? Scars were attractive if one did not think long enough about how they were formed. It showed perseverance and survival, a separate kind of strength that a man could bear.
To be fair, though, that was not the strength she wondered about as she felt an unfamiliar warmth of desire pool deep within her core.
He answered her question, and truly, she had known the answer before he spoke it. Megaris was known as a popular stop between the lands afar and Midas, the last hurrah either leaving the kingdom or returning. Either way, it was a town in which memories were made for young men looking for a distraction.
Her chest seemed to rise and fall more distinctly as his words brought them both to the precipice of a decision. Nethis would be so proud of her, but in this moment, it was not about her. There was something more carnal and primitive inside of her that yearned for this, not as an operative in some grand scheme her sister insisted on brewing, but an almost pulsating desire that she wanted to fulfill herself.
Virginity be damned, she wanted this.
Her hand raised, graceful and slow, until it came to rest on his chest, nestling in the valley between the proud muscles. Her assumption surrounding his musculature was right and her own chest rose with a deep inhale as the nerves of her body seemed to be set alight in a way that was unfamiliar to her.
This was what Nethis spoke of: desire. It was clear that men desired women, and it was far more visible given the different ways the gods had shaped the bodies of man and woman. Still, to feel it herself was different than it simply being explained. It almost burned beneath her skin and she found herself craving it.
Thea blinked rapidly, realizing that she had not yet responded to his suggestion.
"I am no 'woman of Megaris' in such a sense," she replied, the words bearing a breathiness they had lacked before. For a moment, she could almost feel the pulsing of her blood through her veins, but chose not to overthink it. "But, I will be your company until dawn."
It was not a coy response but more of a statement. And agreement, even. In these few interactions, they held the same purposeful nature in common. Coy games were for Nethis, utter romance was for Evras.
This bold embrace of desire was for Thea.
At last, she turned her face up to find their eyes aligned, neither closed or blinking. Their breath intermingled, as if asking one final question: are you certain?
Yes, she was.
All it took was one half of a step closer, her foot not even leaving the ground as she slid it forward, before her softly parted lips met his.
To say that Vangelis desire in the offered activities of the night was shallow or impersonal would be untrue. Whilst she was the first female that he had seen yet that evening that might be in a position to give him that which his fellow soldiers clearly thought he so desperately needed, that didn't mean that he was interested in the offer she so boldly presented, simply through a lack of other choice. His desire towards her had existed not in the realms of her being 'as good as any' but in the good luck of having found her prior to other discarded opportunities.
A man who valued efficiency, yes. Vangelis would have taken up the first woman of a suitable demeanour and appearance who was open enough to accept his single-minded requirements for the eve and dark hours to follow. But that had everything to do with his own personal encouragement of value of time, not to mention his emasculating nervousness at approaching any woman with such a request. To have one eager enough to speak the words his own virgin lips had trouble forming was simply a gift not worth refusing.
All of this, however, did not diminish the woman, her beauty, nor its effect it had on his own male form.
Whilst raised to believe whole-heartedly that he would one day find a woman for whom his heart would be alone - who he could stand beside as an equal: King and Queen of Colchis, as his father and mother now stood - Vangelis was also more than aware that while love, affection and respect were significant to a marriage, they were not necessarily required for more carnal acts of human desire. There was no need for him to speak with this woman; to learn her mannerisms, her likes and dislikes... whether she preferred her meat raw or well done. If she preferred horseback or carriage travel. If she was intelligent, kind or brave...
It was no insult to be assured that all he had interest in was whether her god given form could arouse and please his own - for that was all she was offering to him, and all he had made it clear he was in search of. There was no duplicity or lies of mutual and permanent passion. Only truth. The truth of lust and desire.
For the woman held his desire.
From the moment she had walked into the tavern, he had recognised her as a Colchian beauty - appointed upon the memory in his brain that this female was given advantages in life that saw her well cared for and elegantly beautiful because of it. He had witnessed the darkness of her hair, the pale clarity of her skin and considered her a perfect example of the sensual looks - the bold feminine strength - that true Colchian women could be heralded for.
But appreciating the wide and shallow curve of her mouth, the elegance of her neck and the arching, inky blackness of her brows did not always equate to an attraction. That he found in other pleasing elements of her person. The sway of her hips, the strength of her gaze. The way her lips forms around certain sounds and syllables. They morphed with her words in a manner that was both commanding and gentle - a strange dichotomy that caused his gaze to linger and unravel the enigma.
By the time she was promising herself to him for the night, Vangelis felt hot beneath his skin. His body was stirring into wakefulness, as if chipping and breaking away at the stony layer of external skin he had built around himself since his journeying abroad. When she placed a hand to his chest, he felt himself inhale with a stronger draw than he had held previously, the heat of her touch melting away more of the granite encasement that fell about his feet.
Encouraged by her confidence and in no way aware of her level of inexperience - for he even contemplated for just a moment admitting to his own chaste state and how he might be a disappointment in the ways in which he tried to please her - Vangelis swallowed and allowed the burning arousal to grow stronger - to consumer all doubts and considerations of waiting for other opportunities. This woman was beautiful, she was desirable and she was willing... What more could a man passing like a literal ship in the night ask for?
When the young woman stepped forward and placed her lips to his own, Vangelis stiffened for a moment, surprise freezing his muscles and locking his joints into place. The females he had interacted with on a regular basis had either been related to him closely by blood or were sweet and innocent daughters of sheltering parents. He had never been exposed to a woman of such a nature and her boldness surprised him for a moment.
Quickly, however, he recovered.
Moving his mouth against hers, his lips testing and seeking responses that she might be willing to give, Vangelis felt his lids fall shut and the central focus of his mind turn to the softness of her mouth and the warmth that now seemed to pass between the two of them, despite the coldness of the night-time air swirling around their figures.
As if pouring molten fire from one being to another, Vangelis felt heat shoot through his bloodstream and his skin turn sensitive against her touch, as if his sense of contact was rising to meet her touch. His own body was finding an answer of its own to her touch and as he felt a familiar and expecting stirring in his groin, he reached a long and broad hand down to the small of the woman's back. There, his own touch pressed against her skin through the silk of her dress and he felt a frustration at its slippery surface, unable to purchase a hold on the female form before him.
When he broke contact with her mouth, Vangelis' eyes opened but only to half mast, his stare hard and unyielding. Their breath mingled, hot in the inch of air between them, Vangelis glanced at the enclosed courtyard around them and then turned back to his partner with a question in his eyes. Not one for words at the best of times, Vangelis did not trust his voice in that moment, but he query was perfectly clear. He had accepted her offer of her company. Now all he needed to know was where such company would take place...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
To say that Vangelis desire in the offered activities of the night was shallow or impersonal would be untrue. Whilst she was the first female that he had seen yet that evening that might be in a position to give him that which his fellow soldiers clearly thought he so desperately needed, that didn't mean that he was interested in the offer she so boldly presented, simply through a lack of other choice. His desire towards her had existed not in the realms of her being 'as good as any' but in the good luck of having found her prior to other discarded opportunities.
A man who valued efficiency, yes. Vangelis would have taken up the first woman of a suitable demeanour and appearance who was open enough to accept his single-minded requirements for the eve and dark hours to follow. But that had everything to do with his own personal encouragement of value of time, not to mention his emasculating nervousness at approaching any woman with such a request. To have one eager enough to speak the words his own virgin lips had trouble forming was simply a gift not worth refusing.
All of this, however, did not diminish the woman, her beauty, nor its effect it had on his own male form.
Whilst raised to believe whole-heartedly that he would one day find a woman for whom his heart would be alone - who he could stand beside as an equal: King and Queen of Colchis, as his father and mother now stood - Vangelis was also more than aware that while love, affection and respect were significant to a marriage, they were not necessarily required for more carnal acts of human desire. There was no need for him to speak with this woman; to learn her mannerisms, her likes and dislikes... whether she preferred her meat raw or well done. If she preferred horseback or carriage travel. If she was intelligent, kind or brave...
It was no insult to be assured that all he had interest in was whether her god given form could arouse and please his own - for that was all she was offering to him, and all he had made it clear he was in search of. There was no duplicity or lies of mutual and permanent passion. Only truth. The truth of lust and desire.
For the woman held his desire.
From the moment she had walked into the tavern, he had recognised her as a Colchian beauty - appointed upon the memory in his brain that this female was given advantages in life that saw her well cared for and elegantly beautiful because of it. He had witnessed the darkness of her hair, the pale clarity of her skin and considered her a perfect example of the sensual looks - the bold feminine strength - that true Colchian women could be heralded for.
But appreciating the wide and shallow curve of her mouth, the elegance of her neck and the arching, inky blackness of her brows did not always equate to an attraction. That he found in other pleasing elements of her person. The sway of her hips, the strength of her gaze. The way her lips forms around certain sounds and syllables. They morphed with her words in a manner that was both commanding and gentle - a strange dichotomy that caused his gaze to linger and unravel the enigma.
By the time she was promising herself to him for the night, Vangelis felt hot beneath his skin. His body was stirring into wakefulness, as if chipping and breaking away at the stony layer of external skin he had built around himself since his journeying abroad. When she placed a hand to his chest, he felt himself inhale with a stronger draw than he had held previously, the heat of her touch melting away more of the granite encasement that fell about his feet.
Encouraged by her confidence and in no way aware of her level of inexperience - for he even contemplated for just a moment admitting to his own chaste state and how he might be a disappointment in the ways in which he tried to please her - Vangelis swallowed and allowed the burning arousal to grow stronger - to consumer all doubts and considerations of waiting for other opportunities. This woman was beautiful, she was desirable and she was willing... What more could a man passing like a literal ship in the night ask for?
When the young woman stepped forward and placed her lips to his own, Vangelis stiffened for a moment, surprise freezing his muscles and locking his joints into place. The females he had interacted with on a regular basis had either been related to him closely by blood or were sweet and innocent daughters of sheltering parents. He had never been exposed to a woman of such a nature and her boldness surprised him for a moment.
Quickly, however, he recovered.
Moving his mouth against hers, his lips testing and seeking responses that she might be willing to give, Vangelis felt his lids fall shut and the central focus of his mind turn to the softness of her mouth and the warmth that now seemed to pass between the two of them, despite the coldness of the night-time air swirling around their figures.
As if pouring molten fire from one being to another, Vangelis felt heat shoot through his bloodstream and his skin turn sensitive against her touch, as if his sense of contact was rising to meet her touch. His own body was finding an answer of its own to her touch and as he felt a familiar and expecting stirring in his groin, he reached a long and broad hand down to the small of the woman's back. There, his own touch pressed against her skin through the silk of her dress and he felt a frustration at its slippery surface, unable to purchase a hold on the female form before him.
When he broke contact with her mouth, Vangelis' eyes opened but only to half mast, his stare hard and unyielding. Their breath mingled, hot in the inch of air between them, Vangelis glanced at the enclosed courtyard around them and then turned back to his partner with a question in his eyes. Not one for words at the best of times, Vangelis did not trust his voice in that moment, but he query was perfectly clear. He had accepted her offer of her company. Now all he needed to know was where such company would take place...
To say that Vangelis desire in the offered activities of the night was shallow or impersonal would be untrue. Whilst she was the first female that he had seen yet that evening that might be in a position to give him that which his fellow soldiers clearly thought he so desperately needed, that didn't mean that he was interested in the offer she so boldly presented, simply through a lack of other choice. His desire towards her had existed not in the realms of her being 'as good as any' but in the good luck of having found her prior to other discarded opportunities.
A man who valued efficiency, yes. Vangelis would have taken up the first woman of a suitable demeanour and appearance who was open enough to accept his single-minded requirements for the eve and dark hours to follow. But that had everything to do with his own personal encouragement of value of time, not to mention his emasculating nervousness at approaching any woman with such a request. To have one eager enough to speak the words his own virgin lips had trouble forming was simply a gift not worth refusing.
All of this, however, did not diminish the woman, her beauty, nor its effect it had on his own male form.
Whilst raised to believe whole-heartedly that he would one day find a woman for whom his heart would be alone - who he could stand beside as an equal: King and Queen of Colchis, as his father and mother now stood - Vangelis was also more than aware that while love, affection and respect were significant to a marriage, they were not necessarily required for more carnal acts of human desire. There was no need for him to speak with this woman; to learn her mannerisms, her likes and dislikes... whether she preferred her meat raw or well done. If she preferred horseback or carriage travel. If she was intelligent, kind or brave...
It was no insult to be assured that all he had interest in was whether her god given form could arouse and please his own - for that was all she was offering to him, and all he had made it clear he was in search of. There was no duplicity or lies of mutual and permanent passion. Only truth. The truth of lust and desire.
For the woman held his desire.
From the moment she had walked into the tavern, he had recognised her as a Colchian beauty - appointed upon the memory in his brain that this female was given advantages in life that saw her well cared for and elegantly beautiful because of it. He had witnessed the darkness of her hair, the pale clarity of her skin and considered her a perfect example of the sensual looks - the bold feminine strength - that true Colchian women could be heralded for.
But appreciating the wide and shallow curve of her mouth, the elegance of her neck and the arching, inky blackness of her brows did not always equate to an attraction. That he found in other pleasing elements of her person. The sway of her hips, the strength of her gaze. The way her lips forms around certain sounds and syllables. They morphed with her words in a manner that was both commanding and gentle - a strange dichotomy that caused his gaze to linger and unravel the enigma.
By the time she was promising herself to him for the night, Vangelis felt hot beneath his skin. His body was stirring into wakefulness, as if chipping and breaking away at the stony layer of external skin he had built around himself since his journeying abroad. When she placed a hand to his chest, he felt himself inhale with a stronger draw than he had held previously, the heat of her touch melting away more of the granite encasement that fell about his feet.
Encouraged by her confidence and in no way aware of her level of inexperience - for he even contemplated for just a moment admitting to his own chaste state and how he might be a disappointment in the ways in which he tried to please her - Vangelis swallowed and allowed the burning arousal to grow stronger - to consumer all doubts and considerations of waiting for other opportunities. This woman was beautiful, she was desirable and she was willing... What more could a man passing like a literal ship in the night ask for?
When the young woman stepped forward and placed her lips to his own, Vangelis stiffened for a moment, surprise freezing his muscles and locking his joints into place. The females he had interacted with on a regular basis had either been related to him closely by blood or were sweet and innocent daughters of sheltering parents. He had never been exposed to a woman of such a nature and her boldness surprised him for a moment.
Quickly, however, he recovered.
Moving his mouth against hers, his lips testing and seeking responses that she might be willing to give, Vangelis felt his lids fall shut and the central focus of his mind turn to the softness of her mouth and the warmth that now seemed to pass between the two of them, despite the coldness of the night-time air swirling around their figures.
As if pouring molten fire from one being to another, Vangelis felt heat shoot through his bloodstream and his skin turn sensitive against her touch, as if his sense of contact was rising to meet her touch. His own body was finding an answer of its own to her touch and as he felt a familiar and expecting stirring in his groin, he reached a long and broad hand down to the small of the woman's back. There, his own touch pressed against her skin through the silk of her dress and he felt a frustration at its slippery surface, unable to purchase a hold on the female form before him.
When he broke contact with her mouth, Vangelis' eyes opened but only to half mast, his stare hard and unyielding. Their breath mingled, hot in the inch of air between them, Vangelis glanced at the enclosed courtyard around them and then turned back to his partner with a question in his eyes. Not one for words at the best of times, Vangelis did not trust his voice in that moment, but he query was perfectly clear. He had accepted her offer of her company. Now all he needed to know was where such company would take place...
Thea felt as if her body was set aflame. A woman of deep thought and contemplation, she found in that moment that her mind had been wiped clean, like a hand across words pressed in clay. Any thought of substance had been erased from her mind the moment he breathed into her kiss. The points where their bodies made contact - her hand on his chest, his hand on the small of her back - seemed to cling there as if through static.
It was not long before the necessity of taking in air broke their contact, and Thea could hear the blood pulsing through her ears in time with the heartbeat in her chest. Youthful desire was confusing and demanding, forcing her to reconsider propriety for that moment. Long ago, Nethis had abandoned such concepts of purity and chastity, and while her sister likely hoped to find some information gained through a connection such as this, Thea allowed her own selfishness to intercede.
Besides, there was the distinct luxury in that neither Thea or the soldier before her were bent on having a conversation. As in all parts of the natural world, or so Thea was taught, there was a binding desire for two threads to connect, usually for the progression of the species. Coupling could result in such things. Thea knew the risks, but looking at it from an oddly logical standpoint - a biased logic that allowed her to have what she wanted - there were plenty of times when men and women would couple and there would be no child.
This would be one of those times, Thea was certain.
Thea followed the soldier's glance a moment, eyes glancing back shortly before to once again admire the column of his neck and the angle of his jaw. A sudden urge within her caused her to lick her lips a moment, feeling her lower lip roll deliciously beneath her teeth.
"This way," she murmured, in barely more than a whisper as her hand wrapped around his forearm as far as it could hold to lead around the darkened corner of the building, a small alley that was blocked from the street and tucked between the tavern and the neighboring building. It was dim, but not overly dark. If anything, the darkness helped in hiding what was bound to be her fumbling folly of ignorance.
Nethis told her how it could be done in several ways. Only a few years her elder, it seemed that her sister knew the ways of the world and of sex beyond her years. Receiving such an education from her sister was not something Thea had asked for or initially desired, but with no mother to intercede, the eldest took it upon herself to discover and reply her learning.
Thea noted there was no bench for this man to lay her down upon, nor a table for her to be bent across. There was the ground, but as they took their footsteps, she immediately decided against, hearing the smaller stones that were kicked about by their feet. It left only one, intimidating option.
Swallowing quietly and urging her desire to overpower her uncertainty again, Thea backed herself against the wall, palms facing it flat for a moment as if asking the wall's permission. It was a silly thought. Still, in the pale light of the moon with only the slightest flicker of the golden lamplight from where they came, she found she could only the the angles and lines of his face that caught the moonlight.
Thea lightly looped her fingers into the fabric of his cloak and guided him towards her. Her feet were placed slightly apart, as if to invite him to the space between. Yet, when he came close to her, instead of once again dipping up to capture his lips, she followed her urge from before, licking her lips again slightly as she placed a precisely aimed kiss for the long tendon that ran down the column of his neck.
The skin was both supple and firm, weathered from days in the sun and yet supple with youth, like a pale, softened leather. Her tongue teased out to trace shapes along it and after a moment, she hummed through the soft sucking noises that her lips made. Her hands began to wander, down his chest and along the musculature of his sides, wondering if this is how the blind found the shape of the statues in the city square.
Beneath the fabric, he felt like stone, though more like the stones from the hot springs - solid and warm, and in some places, scalding. Her mind was torn at the delight and excitement that his touch and his presence caused with her body, but also bore the warning and uncertainty of the next steps.
Then again, there was only but so much she could do from where she stood...as of yet...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Thea felt as if her body was set aflame. A woman of deep thought and contemplation, she found in that moment that her mind had been wiped clean, like a hand across words pressed in clay. Any thought of substance had been erased from her mind the moment he breathed into her kiss. The points where their bodies made contact - her hand on his chest, his hand on the small of her back - seemed to cling there as if through static.
It was not long before the necessity of taking in air broke their contact, and Thea could hear the blood pulsing through her ears in time with the heartbeat in her chest. Youthful desire was confusing and demanding, forcing her to reconsider propriety for that moment. Long ago, Nethis had abandoned such concepts of purity and chastity, and while her sister likely hoped to find some information gained through a connection such as this, Thea allowed her own selfishness to intercede.
Besides, there was the distinct luxury in that neither Thea or the soldier before her were bent on having a conversation. As in all parts of the natural world, or so Thea was taught, there was a binding desire for two threads to connect, usually for the progression of the species. Coupling could result in such things. Thea knew the risks, but looking at it from an oddly logical standpoint - a biased logic that allowed her to have what she wanted - there were plenty of times when men and women would couple and there would be no child.
This would be one of those times, Thea was certain.
Thea followed the soldier's glance a moment, eyes glancing back shortly before to once again admire the column of his neck and the angle of his jaw. A sudden urge within her caused her to lick her lips a moment, feeling her lower lip roll deliciously beneath her teeth.
"This way," she murmured, in barely more than a whisper as her hand wrapped around his forearm as far as it could hold to lead around the darkened corner of the building, a small alley that was blocked from the street and tucked between the tavern and the neighboring building. It was dim, but not overly dark. If anything, the darkness helped in hiding what was bound to be her fumbling folly of ignorance.
Nethis told her how it could be done in several ways. Only a few years her elder, it seemed that her sister knew the ways of the world and of sex beyond her years. Receiving such an education from her sister was not something Thea had asked for or initially desired, but with no mother to intercede, the eldest took it upon herself to discover and reply her learning.
Thea noted there was no bench for this man to lay her down upon, nor a table for her to be bent across. There was the ground, but as they took their footsteps, she immediately decided against, hearing the smaller stones that were kicked about by their feet. It left only one, intimidating option.
Swallowing quietly and urging her desire to overpower her uncertainty again, Thea backed herself against the wall, palms facing it flat for a moment as if asking the wall's permission. It was a silly thought. Still, in the pale light of the moon with only the slightest flicker of the golden lamplight from where they came, she found she could only the the angles and lines of his face that caught the moonlight.
Thea lightly looped her fingers into the fabric of his cloak and guided him towards her. Her feet were placed slightly apart, as if to invite him to the space between. Yet, when he came close to her, instead of once again dipping up to capture his lips, she followed her urge from before, licking her lips again slightly as she placed a precisely aimed kiss for the long tendon that ran down the column of his neck.
The skin was both supple and firm, weathered from days in the sun and yet supple with youth, like a pale, softened leather. Her tongue teased out to trace shapes along it and after a moment, she hummed through the soft sucking noises that her lips made. Her hands began to wander, down his chest and along the musculature of his sides, wondering if this is how the blind found the shape of the statues in the city square.
Beneath the fabric, he felt like stone, though more like the stones from the hot springs - solid and warm, and in some places, scalding. Her mind was torn at the delight and excitement that his touch and his presence caused with her body, but also bore the warning and uncertainty of the next steps.
Then again, there was only but so much she could do from where she stood...as of yet...
Thea felt as if her body was set aflame. A woman of deep thought and contemplation, she found in that moment that her mind had been wiped clean, like a hand across words pressed in clay. Any thought of substance had been erased from her mind the moment he breathed into her kiss. The points where their bodies made contact - her hand on his chest, his hand on the small of her back - seemed to cling there as if through static.
It was not long before the necessity of taking in air broke their contact, and Thea could hear the blood pulsing through her ears in time with the heartbeat in her chest. Youthful desire was confusing and demanding, forcing her to reconsider propriety for that moment. Long ago, Nethis had abandoned such concepts of purity and chastity, and while her sister likely hoped to find some information gained through a connection such as this, Thea allowed her own selfishness to intercede.
Besides, there was the distinct luxury in that neither Thea or the soldier before her were bent on having a conversation. As in all parts of the natural world, or so Thea was taught, there was a binding desire for two threads to connect, usually for the progression of the species. Coupling could result in such things. Thea knew the risks, but looking at it from an oddly logical standpoint - a biased logic that allowed her to have what she wanted - there were plenty of times when men and women would couple and there would be no child.
This would be one of those times, Thea was certain.
Thea followed the soldier's glance a moment, eyes glancing back shortly before to once again admire the column of his neck and the angle of his jaw. A sudden urge within her caused her to lick her lips a moment, feeling her lower lip roll deliciously beneath her teeth.
"This way," she murmured, in barely more than a whisper as her hand wrapped around his forearm as far as it could hold to lead around the darkened corner of the building, a small alley that was blocked from the street and tucked between the tavern and the neighboring building. It was dim, but not overly dark. If anything, the darkness helped in hiding what was bound to be her fumbling folly of ignorance.
Nethis told her how it could be done in several ways. Only a few years her elder, it seemed that her sister knew the ways of the world and of sex beyond her years. Receiving such an education from her sister was not something Thea had asked for or initially desired, but with no mother to intercede, the eldest took it upon herself to discover and reply her learning.
Thea noted there was no bench for this man to lay her down upon, nor a table for her to be bent across. There was the ground, but as they took their footsteps, she immediately decided against, hearing the smaller stones that were kicked about by their feet. It left only one, intimidating option.
Swallowing quietly and urging her desire to overpower her uncertainty again, Thea backed herself against the wall, palms facing it flat for a moment as if asking the wall's permission. It was a silly thought. Still, in the pale light of the moon with only the slightest flicker of the golden lamplight from where they came, she found she could only the the angles and lines of his face that caught the moonlight.
Thea lightly looped her fingers into the fabric of his cloak and guided him towards her. Her feet were placed slightly apart, as if to invite him to the space between. Yet, when he came close to her, instead of once again dipping up to capture his lips, she followed her urge from before, licking her lips again slightly as she placed a precisely aimed kiss for the long tendon that ran down the column of his neck.
The skin was both supple and firm, weathered from days in the sun and yet supple with youth, like a pale, softened leather. Her tongue teased out to trace shapes along it and after a moment, she hummed through the soft sucking noises that her lips made. Her hands began to wander, down his chest and along the musculature of his sides, wondering if this is how the blind found the shape of the statues in the city square.
Beneath the fabric, he felt like stone, though more like the stones from the hot springs - solid and warm, and in some places, scalding. Her mind was torn at the delight and excitement that his touch and his presence caused with her body, but also bore the warning and uncertainty of the next steps.
Then again, there was only but so much she could do from where she stood...as of yet...
Vangelis followed the nameless woman's lead. She had been the one to invite him outside. She had been the one to offer her company for the night and then kiss him with a boldness that encouraged the idea of experience. Even the manner in which she licked upon her lower lip, escalating the tightening in Vangelis' pants to a painfully sharp little ache. Despite the unknown truth being entirely different, Vangelis had already accepted the belief that this woman was practised in propositioning men of temporary means and had targeted him for his clearly momentary presence in the province.
Whilst some might feel hunted by such an interpretation - no matter how erroneous it turned out to be - Vangelis felt no need to summon shame or anger. For an experienced foray into the world of adulthood was all he had sought that night regardless. There was no sense in feeling insulted over something that led to his intended outcome, after all.
As the young woman wrapped her hand around his forearm - a limb now defined with strength to the point where her fingers were hopeless to meet around it - he felt a burning where her touch scalded his skin and his interest grow further.
Her murmured words and leading hands directed his footsteps towards an abandoned alley, without privacy or bed besides the dim light and stone walls. Snuffing out his surprise that not all females wanted romantic courtship prior to coupling, Vangelis was simply thankful that he was not provided to find them lodgings and attempt to hide his identity from yet more strangers. He had no doubt that if this woman knew him to be heir to the throne and monarchy she would be less nonchalant about their encounter, and the situation would become complicated and its purpose lost.
Avoiding any such conversation or exposure of self and identity was the best way to approach this...
Moving closer to her and allowing the fingers wrapped in his cloak to draw his frame in close to hers Vangelis felt his breathing escalate. He smelt the damp mulch that were once leaves of nearby flora on the ground, the warmth of roasting meat from the taverns windows and the soft and musky scent that the woman before him wore like a cloak of seduction.
His own cloak - far less metaphorical and real in its essence - hung down from his shoulders, cutting through the dusky charcoal light of the evening like a razor slice of midnight. The thick and warm fabric fell around the both of them, encasing their bodies from prying eyes in an opaque shelter of intimacy. Neither could see anything between them, their touch becoming their eyes.
For which Vangelis was incredibly grateful, when the woman in question leant forwards to pay loving attentions to the long tendon of his neck. His eyes rolling a little at the sweetness of the touch, his head naturally falling back on his neck to permit her closer access... He had never been kissed on the neck and so never realised the erogenous qualities of it.
His body was recognising them now though, as Vangelis felt his most adult part react with approval, tenting the front of his stays and pushing against his new lover's thigh, seeking closer contact. But, while Vangelis was a novice in the realms of sex, he had learnt enough from gossip and crude humour in the menfolk of his unit that no woman liked to be entered with immediate effect... That all fucking - whether with a stranger or a lover - was to be done as a gradual pace.
Lowering his chin once more to watch the feminine features of the beauty the Gods had selected as his first woman, Vangelis tested her reactions as he raised his hand and settled the weight of one of her breasts in the palm of his hand, already loving the sensation of her firm nipple against his skin, regardless of the silk between that prohibited naked touch.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Vangelis followed the nameless woman's lead. She had been the one to invite him outside. She had been the one to offer her company for the night and then kiss him with a boldness that encouraged the idea of experience. Even the manner in which she licked upon her lower lip, escalating the tightening in Vangelis' pants to a painfully sharp little ache. Despite the unknown truth being entirely different, Vangelis had already accepted the belief that this woman was practised in propositioning men of temporary means and had targeted him for his clearly momentary presence in the province.
Whilst some might feel hunted by such an interpretation - no matter how erroneous it turned out to be - Vangelis felt no need to summon shame or anger. For an experienced foray into the world of adulthood was all he had sought that night regardless. There was no sense in feeling insulted over something that led to his intended outcome, after all.
As the young woman wrapped her hand around his forearm - a limb now defined with strength to the point where her fingers were hopeless to meet around it - he felt a burning where her touch scalded his skin and his interest grow further.
Her murmured words and leading hands directed his footsteps towards an abandoned alley, without privacy or bed besides the dim light and stone walls. Snuffing out his surprise that not all females wanted romantic courtship prior to coupling, Vangelis was simply thankful that he was not provided to find them lodgings and attempt to hide his identity from yet more strangers. He had no doubt that if this woman knew him to be heir to the throne and monarchy she would be less nonchalant about their encounter, and the situation would become complicated and its purpose lost.
Avoiding any such conversation or exposure of self and identity was the best way to approach this...
Moving closer to her and allowing the fingers wrapped in his cloak to draw his frame in close to hers Vangelis felt his breathing escalate. He smelt the damp mulch that were once leaves of nearby flora on the ground, the warmth of roasting meat from the taverns windows and the soft and musky scent that the woman before him wore like a cloak of seduction.
His own cloak - far less metaphorical and real in its essence - hung down from his shoulders, cutting through the dusky charcoal light of the evening like a razor slice of midnight. The thick and warm fabric fell around the both of them, encasing their bodies from prying eyes in an opaque shelter of intimacy. Neither could see anything between them, their touch becoming their eyes.
For which Vangelis was incredibly grateful, when the woman in question leant forwards to pay loving attentions to the long tendon of his neck. His eyes rolling a little at the sweetness of the touch, his head naturally falling back on his neck to permit her closer access... He had never been kissed on the neck and so never realised the erogenous qualities of it.
His body was recognising them now though, as Vangelis felt his most adult part react with approval, tenting the front of his stays and pushing against his new lover's thigh, seeking closer contact. But, while Vangelis was a novice in the realms of sex, he had learnt enough from gossip and crude humour in the menfolk of his unit that no woman liked to be entered with immediate effect... That all fucking - whether with a stranger or a lover - was to be done as a gradual pace.
Lowering his chin once more to watch the feminine features of the beauty the Gods had selected as his first woman, Vangelis tested her reactions as he raised his hand and settled the weight of one of her breasts in the palm of his hand, already loving the sensation of her firm nipple against his skin, regardless of the silk between that prohibited naked touch.
Vangelis followed the nameless woman's lead. She had been the one to invite him outside. She had been the one to offer her company for the night and then kiss him with a boldness that encouraged the idea of experience. Even the manner in which she licked upon her lower lip, escalating the tightening in Vangelis' pants to a painfully sharp little ache. Despite the unknown truth being entirely different, Vangelis had already accepted the belief that this woman was practised in propositioning men of temporary means and had targeted him for his clearly momentary presence in the province.
Whilst some might feel hunted by such an interpretation - no matter how erroneous it turned out to be - Vangelis felt no need to summon shame or anger. For an experienced foray into the world of adulthood was all he had sought that night regardless. There was no sense in feeling insulted over something that led to his intended outcome, after all.
As the young woman wrapped her hand around his forearm - a limb now defined with strength to the point where her fingers were hopeless to meet around it - he felt a burning where her touch scalded his skin and his interest grow further.
Her murmured words and leading hands directed his footsteps towards an abandoned alley, without privacy or bed besides the dim light and stone walls. Snuffing out his surprise that not all females wanted romantic courtship prior to coupling, Vangelis was simply thankful that he was not provided to find them lodgings and attempt to hide his identity from yet more strangers. He had no doubt that if this woman knew him to be heir to the throne and monarchy she would be less nonchalant about their encounter, and the situation would become complicated and its purpose lost.
Avoiding any such conversation or exposure of self and identity was the best way to approach this...
Moving closer to her and allowing the fingers wrapped in his cloak to draw his frame in close to hers Vangelis felt his breathing escalate. He smelt the damp mulch that were once leaves of nearby flora on the ground, the warmth of roasting meat from the taverns windows and the soft and musky scent that the woman before him wore like a cloak of seduction.
His own cloak - far less metaphorical and real in its essence - hung down from his shoulders, cutting through the dusky charcoal light of the evening like a razor slice of midnight. The thick and warm fabric fell around the both of them, encasing their bodies from prying eyes in an opaque shelter of intimacy. Neither could see anything between them, their touch becoming their eyes.
For which Vangelis was incredibly grateful, when the woman in question leant forwards to pay loving attentions to the long tendon of his neck. His eyes rolling a little at the sweetness of the touch, his head naturally falling back on his neck to permit her closer access... He had never been kissed on the neck and so never realised the erogenous qualities of it.
His body was recognising them now though, as Vangelis felt his most adult part react with approval, tenting the front of his stays and pushing against his new lover's thigh, seeking closer contact. But, while Vangelis was a novice in the realms of sex, he had learnt enough from gossip and crude humour in the menfolk of his unit that no woman liked to be entered with immediate effect... That all fucking - whether with a stranger or a lover - was to be done as a gradual pace.
Lowering his chin once more to watch the feminine features of the beauty the Gods had selected as his first woman, Vangelis tested her reactions as he raised his hand and settled the weight of one of her breasts in the palm of his hand, already loving the sensation of her firm nipple against his skin, regardless of the silk between that prohibited naked touch.
Thea felt a distinct satisfaction as the man reacted beneath her lips, reassuring the boldness of her hands as they explored his form. Her eyes opened in realization as she felt the firmness of him against her thigh, and her mind began to race. The curiosity and slight prickle of fear of the unknown attempted to battle within her, leaving her lightly panting against his neck as she considered the options.
Putting forward the front of confidence that made up for her utter lack of experience, Thea made the choice to slither one hand between their thighs, allowing it to explore and discover the best approach to the tented material between them. Slowly, her fingers began to unlace the ties of his stays, glancing up at him to silently watch his reaction.
This is what he would want, right?
As a man of the sword, it was likely that this was not his first experience in such things. Being away for weeks at a time could drive a man into need, which is what he had mentioned not long ago - finding company for the night. While the knowledge shared with her by her sister was helpful, Thea self-soothed her mind in believing that he would understand the next steps and take the lead on them.
It was also a selfish desire, too, to be taken by a man who knew his own desires.
Thea's eyes lingered lower as the stays finally became undone, pausing a moment before gingerly pulling down the front of them to reveal himself fully. There was no audible gasp, but instead a distinctly long, drawn inhale that filled her chest as she took in the sight of it, the first one outside of her family that she had ever seen. In its full length, it was surprising, though her expression did not reveal her sudden doubts as to the geometry of the situation.
As if to compensate for his exposure, Thea kept her hand on his and shifted the fabric that hid her breast away. The blush on her cheeks was thankfully hidden by the shadows of the alley, but the quickening of her breath seemed to fill the area. The anticipation and suspense of waiting nearly maddened her, as she made another choice to tug up at the hem of her skirt, revealing her long, pale leg as she rested her thigh against the curve of his own thigh and hip. It was an invitation.
Balance was necessary, so one arm looped around his neck for support as the other palmed the wall behind her. Clearly overthinking as she dipped into another kiss, her mind tried to visualize how to join with him, but the height difference between them was puzzling. It did not help that the fires of desire burned across her skin and her quick pulse muddled the clarity of her thought.
There was no determinate way as to how she would get what she want, just the overbearing demands of her body that she somehow find a way to get it.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Thea felt a distinct satisfaction as the man reacted beneath her lips, reassuring the boldness of her hands as they explored his form. Her eyes opened in realization as she felt the firmness of him against her thigh, and her mind began to race. The curiosity and slight prickle of fear of the unknown attempted to battle within her, leaving her lightly panting against his neck as she considered the options.
Putting forward the front of confidence that made up for her utter lack of experience, Thea made the choice to slither one hand between their thighs, allowing it to explore and discover the best approach to the tented material between them. Slowly, her fingers began to unlace the ties of his stays, glancing up at him to silently watch his reaction.
This is what he would want, right?
As a man of the sword, it was likely that this was not his first experience in such things. Being away for weeks at a time could drive a man into need, which is what he had mentioned not long ago - finding company for the night. While the knowledge shared with her by her sister was helpful, Thea self-soothed her mind in believing that he would understand the next steps and take the lead on them.
It was also a selfish desire, too, to be taken by a man who knew his own desires.
Thea's eyes lingered lower as the stays finally became undone, pausing a moment before gingerly pulling down the front of them to reveal himself fully. There was no audible gasp, but instead a distinctly long, drawn inhale that filled her chest as she took in the sight of it, the first one outside of her family that she had ever seen. In its full length, it was surprising, though her expression did not reveal her sudden doubts as to the geometry of the situation.
As if to compensate for his exposure, Thea kept her hand on his and shifted the fabric that hid her breast away. The blush on her cheeks was thankfully hidden by the shadows of the alley, but the quickening of her breath seemed to fill the area. The anticipation and suspense of waiting nearly maddened her, as she made another choice to tug up at the hem of her skirt, revealing her long, pale leg as she rested her thigh against the curve of his own thigh and hip. It was an invitation.
Balance was necessary, so one arm looped around his neck for support as the other palmed the wall behind her. Clearly overthinking as she dipped into another kiss, her mind tried to visualize how to join with him, but the height difference between them was puzzling. It did not help that the fires of desire burned across her skin and her quick pulse muddled the clarity of her thought.
There was no determinate way as to how she would get what she want, just the overbearing demands of her body that she somehow find a way to get it.
Thea felt a distinct satisfaction as the man reacted beneath her lips, reassuring the boldness of her hands as they explored his form. Her eyes opened in realization as she felt the firmness of him against her thigh, and her mind began to race. The curiosity and slight prickle of fear of the unknown attempted to battle within her, leaving her lightly panting against his neck as she considered the options.
Putting forward the front of confidence that made up for her utter lack of experience, Thea made the choice to slither one hand between their thighs, allowing it to explore and discover the best approach to the tented material between them. Slowly, her fingers began to unlace the ties of his stays, glancing up at him to silently watch his reaction.
This is what he would want, right?
As a man of the sword, it was likely that this was not his first experience in such things. Being away for weeks at a time could drive a man into need, which is what he had mentioned not long ago - finding company for the night. While the knowledge shared with her by her sister was helpful, Thea self-soothed her mind in believing that he would understand the next steps and take the lead on them.
It was also a selfish desire, too, to be taken by a man who knew his own desires.
Thea's eyes lingered lower as the stays finally became undone, pausing a moment before gingerly pulling down the front of them to reveal himself fully. There was no audible gasp, but instead a distinctly long, drawn inhale that filled her chest as she took in the sight of it, the first one outside of her family that she had ever seen. In its full length, it was surprising, though her expression did not reveal her sudden doubts as to the geometry of the situation.
As if to compensate for his exposure, Thea kept her hand on his and shifted the fabric that hid her breast away. The blush on her cheeks was thankfully hidden by the shadows of the alley, but the quickening of her breath seemed to fill the area. The anticipation and suspense of waiting nearly maddened her, as she made another choice to tug up at the hem of her skirt, revealing her long, pale leg as she rested her thigh against the curve of his own thigh and hip. It was an invitation.
Balance was necessary, so one arm looped around his neck for support as the other palmed the wall behind her. Clearly overthinking as she dipped into another kiss, her mind tried to visualize how to join with him, but the height difference between them was puzzling. It did not help that the fires of desire burned across her skin and her quick pulse muddled the clarity of her thought.
There was no determinate way as to how she would get what she want, just the overbearing demands of her body that she somehow find a way to get it.
There was no finesse in the love-making that Vangelis was able to offer this woman. There was no skill or practice or experience fuelling his actions or motives. He was as nubile and innocent of the body language of such acts as any child - far more so than one would expect of a grown man of eighteen. Six years he had been of adulthood and yet had not ever experienced the intimacy of sharing his body with a woman. The soldiers around him at done so; with relish and enthusiasm, regardless of whether they were married or not. Yet, Vangelis had remained uncertain. Perhaps it was because, when one duty, one had only a limited window of time for leisure. And he was not yet certain of the ways in which he could achieve it. Perhaps the concept of hurrying to slake his lusts in a woman just did not appeal. Or perhaps he had not wished to know he was in the brothel room next door to his comrade who was doing the same.
For whatever reason, Vangelis had stayed chaste through his first campaign with his army and king. A man of innocence now and unable to lead the dance that this woman was offering, Vangelis felt his cheeks heat and his temperature rise in shame that she would most likely be able to tell of his inexperience and witness his witless attempts to please her.
This woman was exotic, seductive, confident in what she wanted. Vangelis felt entirely clumsy in her presence, his mind thinking only one thing... that he wished to touch every inch of her skin that he could possibly reach.
There was no direction to his thoughts. No purpose or specificity. Instead, his mind seemed to have devolved into the baseless, instinctive grunts of unintelligent desire that could only speak in monosyllabic demands. Touch. Feel. Have. Claim. Want. Now...
As the woman reached for the stays of his pants, Vangelis froze for a single second, unsure what to do at her exploration, but then immediately permitting her whatever she wished. For he did not want her to think him even more ignorant of these things than she likely did already. Standing firm, he offered himself to her, rejecting neither her hands, nor her touch as she freed him from his stays.
It was too dark to witness her features or expressions but the inhale that she took deep into her lungs seemed to be a universal word for approval. Had he any doubt, however, the woman escalated their situation by pulling down her gown to reveal the breast that had been coated - barred from his touch. The globe of her feminine flesh was so pale in the night-time darkness that it seemed to glow and Vangelis was quick to take the chance he was offered.
The first touch of soft, yet defiant, nipple against the rough callouses of his palm, had Vangelis groaning deep in his throat and his hips drawing forwards on purest instinct. His fingers came around her breast, massaging the mould and feeling its texture.
As she kissed him, Vangelis took courage in her own confidence and took it deeper, his tongue delving into her mouth as her leg hooked around his hip.
He felt her jostle as she tried to lift herself onto her toes, in order to make her body settle in line with his own.
Vangelis might have been a novice in how to make love to a woman, but he was no notice in strength and power. Releasing her breast with a moan of frustration, his hands sought the round curves of her bottom. The side that had been kicked apart so that she might straddle him allowed him to touch bare cheek, whilst the other found the silk of her chiton. Taking her weight with ease, Vangelis hooked both legs around his waist and settled himself against her. Her back came flush to the wall, their torsos meeting in a crush that took their kiss deeper, wilder.
His cloak fell upon them both, hiding what they were doing from view from the neck down, his bare manhood found a cushion in the folds of her dress at the apex of her thighs, and his tongue sunk deeper into her mouth, entangling with hers, as he felt their breathing fall into a heated, rapid sync.
With more desire than judgement, more need than care and more instinct than skill, Vangelis's hands fought to hold the woman in place, at exactly the right height, whilst he fought with her skirts and tried to seek the entrance his body desperately wanted to claim...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
There was no finesse in the love-making that Vangelis was able to offer this woman. There was no skill or practice or experience fuelling his actions or motives. He was as nubile and innocent of the body language of such acts as any child - far more so than one would expect of a grown man of eighteen. Six years he had been of adulthood and yet had not ever experienced the intimacy of sharing his body with a woman. The soldiers around him at done so; with relish and enthusiasm, regardless of whether they were married or not. Yet, Vangelis had remained uncertain. Perhaps it was because, when one duty, one had only a limited window of time for leisure. And he was not yet certain of the ways in which he could achieve it. Perhaps the concept of hurrying to slake his lusts in a woman just did not appeal. Or perhaps he had not wished to know he was in the brothel room next door to his comrade who was doing the same.
For whatever reason, Vangelis had stayed chaste through his first campaign with his army and king. A man of innocence now and unable to lead the dance that this woman was offering, Vangelis felt his cheeks heat and his temperature rise in shame that she would most likely be able to tell of his inexperience and witness his witless attempts to please her.
This woman was exotic, seductive, confident in what she wanted. Vangelis felt entirely clumsy in her presence, his mind thinking only one thing... that he wished to touch every inch of her skin that he could possibly reach.
There was no direction to his thoughts. No purpose or specificity. Instead, his mind seemed to have devolved into the baseless, instinctive grunts of unintelligent desire that could only speak in monosyllabic demands. Touch. Feel. Have. Claim. Want. Now...
As the woman reached for the stays of his pants, Vangelis froze for a single second, unsure what to do at her exploration, but then immediately permitting her whatever she wished. For he did not want her to think him even more ignorant of these things than she likely did already. Standing firm, he offered himself to her, rejecting neither her hands, nor her touch as she freed him from his stays.
It was too dark to witness her features or expressions but the inhale that she took deep into her lungs seemed to be a universal word for approval. Had he any doubt, however, the woman escalated their situation by pulling down her gown to reveal the breast that had been coated - barred from his touch. The globe of her feminine flesh was so pale in the night-time darkness that it seemed to glow and Vangelis was quick to take the chance he was offered.
The first touch of soft, yet defiant, nipple against the rough callouses of his palm, had Vangelis groaning deep in his throat and his hips drawing forwards on purest instinct. His fingers came around her breast, massaging the mould and feeling its texture.
As she kissed him, Vangelis took courage in her own confidence and took it deeper, his tongue delving into her mouth as her leg hooked around his hip.
He felt her jostle as she tried to lift herself onto her toes, in order to make her body settle in line with his own.
Vangelis might have been a novice in how to make love to a woman, but he was no notice in strength and power. Releasing her breast with a moan of frustration, his hands sought the round curves of her bottom. The side that had been kicked apart so that she might straddle him allowed him to touch bare cheek, whilst the other found the silk of her chiton. Taking her weight with ease, Vangelis hooked both legs around his waist and settled himself against her. Her back came flush to the wall, their torsos meeting in a crush that took their kiss deeper, wilder.
His cloak fell upon them both, hiding what they were doing from view from the neck down, his bare manhood found a cushion in the folds of her dress at the apex of her thighs, and his tongue sunk deeper into her mouth, entangling with hers, as he felt their breathing fall into a heated, rapid sync.
With more desire than judgement, more need than care and more instinct than skill, Vangelis's hands fought to hold the woman in place, at exactly the right height, whilst he fought with her skirts and tried to seek the entrance his body desperately wanted to claim...
There was no finesse in the love-making that Vangelis was able to offer this woman. There was no skill or practice or experience fuelling his actions or motives. He was as nubile and innocent of the body language of such acts as any child - far more so than one would expect of a grown man of eighteen. Six years he had been of adulthood and yet had not ever experienced the intimacy of sharing his body with a woman. The soldiers around him at done so; with relish and enthusiasm, regardless of whether they were married or not. Yet, Vangelis had remained uncertain. Perhaps it was because, when one duty, one had only a limited window of time for leisure. And he was not yet certain of the ways in which he could achieve it. Perhaps the concept of hurrying to slake his lusts in a woman just did not appeal. Or perhaps he had not wished to know he was in the brothel room next door to his comrade who was doing the same.
For whatever reason, Vangelis had stayed chaste through his first campaign with his army and king. A man of innocence now and unable to lead the dance that this woman was offering, Vangelis felt his cheeks heat and his temperature rise in shame that she would most likely be able to tell of his inexperience and witness his witless attempts to please her.
This woman was exotic, seductive, confident in what she wanted. Vangelis felt entirely clumsy in her presence, his mind thinking only one thing... that he wished to touch every inch of her skin that he could possibly reach.
There was no direction to his thoughts. No purpose or specificity. Instead, his mind seemed to have devolved into the baseless, instinctive grunts of unintelligent desire that could only speak in monosyllabic demands. Touch. Feel. Have. Claim. Want. Now...
As the woman reached for the stays of his pants, Vangelis froze for a single second, unsure what to do at her exploration, but then immediately permitting her whatever she wished. For he did not want her to think him even more ignorant of these things than she likely did already. Standing firm, he offered himself to her, rejecting neither her hands, nor her touch as she freed him from his stays.
It was too dark to witness her features or expressions but the inhale that she took deep into her lungs seemed to be a universal word for approval. Had he any doubt, however, the woman escalated their situation by pulling down her gown to reveal the breast that had been coated - barred from his touch. The globe of her feminine flesh was so pale in the night-time darkness that it seemed to glow and Vangelis was quick to take the chance he was offered.
The first touch of soft, yet defiant, nipple against the rough callouses of his palm, had Vangelis groaning deep in his throat and his hips drawing forwards on purest instinct. His fingers came around her breast, massaging the mould and feeling its texture.
As she kissed him, Vangelis took courage in her own confidence and took it deeper, his tongue delving into her mouth as her leg hooked around his hip.
He felt her jostle as she tried to lift herself onto her toes, in order to make her body settle in line with his own.
Vangelis might have been a novice in how to make love to a woman, but he was no notice in strength and power. Releasing her breast with a moan of frustration, his hands sought the round curves of her bottom. The side that had been kicked apart so that she might straddle him allowed him to touch bare cheek, whilst the other found the silk of her chiton. Taking her weight with ease, Vangelis hooked both legs around his waist and settled himself against her. Her back came flush to the wall, their torsos meeting in a crush that took their kiss deeper, wilder.
His cloak fell upon them both, hiding what they were doing from view from the neck down, his bare manhood found a cushion in the folds of her dress at the apex of her thighs, and his tongue sunk deeper into her mouth, entangling with hers, as he felt their breathing fall into a heated, rapid sync.
With more desire than judgement, more need than care and more instinct than skill, Vangelis's hands fought to hold the woman in place, at exactly the right height, whilst he fought with her skirts and tried to seek the entrance his body desperately wanted to claim...