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Hena was grateful to be able to get away from his mother and his new responsibilities for awhile. Both were driving him mad and he felt that if he didn’t escape at least for a few hours he would completely lose his sanity. And so when his mother had gone off to do some thing or another, he had slipped out of the house and headed down a familiar path to one of his favourite taverns. He wasn’t sure he cared for hitting a brothel at that time, but he absolutely needed a drink. Being forced to be around his mother so often had severely cut into his drinking time and he had started feeling sick because of it.
So he tread familiar ground, dressed a little more toned down than usual, though it was toned down compared to what he usually wore, so he was still dripping in gold and jewels. His long hair was let to flow freely, spilling down his back and over his shoulders, blue beads carefully woven throughout the black locks, brown eyes outlined with kohl to make them stand out. He wore a bright white shendyt which covered him from waist to just above his knees. Golden rings with various gems shone upon each of his fingers, along with his golden armband, smithed to look like foliage to match the one his sister wore. His chest was bare, to keep cool in the warm evening air.
He entered the tavern, immediately feeling more at home in the noisy building than he ever had in his families home. These were his people, ones who could be bought easily. He had found that the best of friends were ones who were in it for the money.
He pushed his way through the crowd, already feeling eyes on him as he found a serving girl.
“A pitcher of your best wine. “ He commanded, and she nodded, giving him a smile. She knew him, had seen him in here many times and she knew the money that came along with his patronage, so she would ensure his needs were well tended to while he was there.
Hena found himself a chair in the back corner of the tavern and sat himself in it, relaxing back against the chair as he observed the patrons in the tavern and waited.
There was no one of particular interest to him. Some women who were beautiful, but he had beautiful women practically lining up outside his door, it would take a lot more than beauty to turn his attentions towards someone that night. His wine was brought and he passed the serving girl plenty of coin for her quick service, she already knew to put the cup on the table, followed by the pitcher once the cup was filled. She would stay close and see that his cup was never empty. Akhenaten had a reputation at the taverns and brothels he frequented, everyone knew of his family, and the riches that he had access too because of his name. Even more so, now that he was named heir instead of his older brother.
His eyes were caught by a particular beauty, one that he did not see in these lands. Pale skin, fiery-dark hair, curves in all the right places. His attention was caught, or at least enough that his eyes remained on her as he picked up his cup of wine, taking a drink without taking his gaze from her, shameless in the way he checked her out from his table in the back. Hena didn’t care if she caught him looking, in fact he hoped that she did.
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.
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Hena was grateful to be able to get away from his mother and his new responsibilities for awhile. Both were driving him mad and he felt that if he didn’t escape at least for a few hours he would completely lose his sanity. And so when his mother had gone off to do some thing or another, he had slipped out of the house and headed down a familiar path to one of his favourite taverns. He wasn’t sure he cared for hitting a brothel at that time, but he absolutely needed a drink. Being forced to be around his mother so often had severely cut into his drinking time and he had started feeling sick because of it.
So he tread familiar ground, dressed a little more toned down than usual, though it was toned down compared to what he usually wore, so he was still dripping in gold and jewels. His long hair was let to flow freely, spilling down his back and over his shoulders, blue beads carefully woven throughout the black locks, brown eyes outlined with kohl to make them stand out. He wore a bright white shendyt which covered him from waist to just above his knees. Golden rings with various gems shone upon each of his fingers, along with his golden armband, smithed to look like foliage to match the one his sister wore. His chest was bare, to keep cool in the warm evening air.
He entered the tavern, immediately feeling more at home in the noisy building than he ever had in his families home. These were his people, ones who could be bought easily. He had found that the best of friends were ones who were in it for the money.
He pushed his way through the crowd, already feeling eyes on him as he found a serving girl.
“A pitcher of your best wine. “ He commanded, and she nodded, giving him a smile. She knew him, had seen him in here many times and she knew the money that came along with his patronage, so she would ensure his needs were well tended to while he was there.
Hena found himself a chair in the back corner of the tavern and sat himself in it, relaxing back against the chair as he observed the patrons in the tavern and waited.
There was no one of particular interest to him. Some women who were beautiful, but he had beautiful women practically lining up outside his door, it would take a lot more than beauty to turn his attentions towards someone that night. His wine was brought and he passed the serving girl plenty of coin for her quick service, she already knew to put the cup on the table, followed by the pitcher once the cup was filled. She would stay close and see that his cup was never empty. Akhenaten had a reputation at the taverns and brothels he frequented, everyone knew of his family, and the riches that he had access too because of his name. Even more so, now that he was named heir instead of his older brother.
His eyes were caught by a particular beauty, one that he did not see in these lands. Pale skin, fiery-dark hair, curves in all the right places. His attention was caught, or at least enough that his eyes remained on her as he picked up his cup of wine, taking a drink without taking his gaze from her, shameless in the way he checked her out from his table in the back. Hena didn’t care if she caught him looking, in fact he hoped that she did.
Hena was grateful to be able to get away from his mother and his new responsibilities for awhile. Both were driving him mad and he felt that if he didn’t escape at least for a few hours he would completely lose his sanity. And so when his mother had gone off to do some thing or another, he had slipped out of the house and headed down a familiar path to one of his favourite taverns. He wasn’t sure he cared for hitting a brothel at that time, but he absolutely needed a drink. Being forced to be around his mother so often had severely cut into his drinking time and he had started feeling sick because of it.
So he tread familiar ground, dressed a little more toned down than usual, though it was toned down compared to what he usually wore, so he was still dripping in gold and jewels. His long hair was let to flow freely, spilling down his back and over his shoulders, blue beads carefully woven throughout the black locks, brown eyes outlined with kohl to make them stand out. He wore a bright white shendyt which covered him from waist to just above his knees. Golden rings with various gems shone upon each of his fingers, along with his golden armband, smithed to look like foliage to match the one his sister wore. His chest was bare, to keep cool in the warm evening air.
He entered the tavern, immediately feeling more at home in the noisy building than he ever had in his families home. These were his people, ones who could be bought easily. He had found that the best of friends were ones who were in it for the money.
He pushed his way through the crowd, already feeling eyes on him as he found a serving girl.
“A pitcher of your best wine. “ He commanded, and she nodded, giving him a smile. She knew him, had seen him in here many times and she knew the money that came along with his patronage, so she would ensure his needs were well tended to while he was there.
Hena found himself a chair in the back corner of the tavern and sat himself in it, relaxing back against the chair as he observed the patrons in the tavern and waited.
There was no one of particular interest to him. Some women who were beautiful, but he had beautiful women practically lining up outside his door, it would take a lot more than beauty to turn his attentions towards someone that night. His wine was brought and he passed the serving girl plenty of coin for her quick service, she already knew to put the cup on the table, followed by the pitcher once the cup was filled. She would stay close and see that his cup was never empty. Akhenaten had a reputation at the taverns and brothels he frequented, everyone knew of his family, and the riches that he had access too because of his name. Even more so, now that he was named heir instead of his older brother.
His eyes were caught by a particular beauty, one that he did not see in these lands. Pale skin, fiery-dark hair, curves in all the right places. His attention was caught, or at least enough that his eyes remained on her as he picked up his cup of wine, taking a drink without taking his gaze from her, shameless in the way he checked her out from his table in the back. Hena didn’t care if she caught him looking, in fact he hoped that she did.
The woman in the mirror was a fickle thing. Anastasia looked into her own reflection, allowing her hazel gaze to sweep along the unclothed form. First, she looked to her calves, unbound and smooth to the touch. Unblemished and mostly spared from the abusive hands of her past, she allowed her gaze to rise higher until she met her thighs. There, the smooth flesh was riddled with the very faint scars of nail prints that grew more and more jagged as they shifted closer to the part of her legs. Immediately, she raised her gaze upward, rising up to her hips, which bore in familiar places the razor thin etch of a blade. She frowned at the sight of it before she raised her gaze to her abdomen. There, her skin was bare of markings but instead, a singular puncture at her belly button which currently held a very thin silver ring bearing a sapphire stone that had been taken from her wedding band. She kept the thing as a memento, a trophy of her defeat over the brutalizing grasp Alector of Athenia had once held over her.
Satisfied with the sight of that ring, she allowed herself to ruminate. The terrors of her past had kept much of her body clean of scars, with her abdomen relatively pure flesh unburdened by the formation of markings. Alector, after all, preferred his beloved doll to be beautiful, even as he'd beaten her over and over again. Her hands rose up to her breasts just as she stared into the mirror, as if to swell their size under her own scrutiny. A huff escaped her lips when she released them to allow her gaze to settle upon her face, next. She saw the grin that caught her features, which only widened it further in reaction. She knew she was ready to leave, and the taverns of Egypt had an appointment with the illustrious bard, Anastasia of the...
Who am I today? she wondered just as she raised the brush of ochre, casting it upon herself to give her full lips a dash of red that otherwise wouldn't exist there. She raised kohl to her eyes next, tracing the sharp patterns along her eyelids until she was satisfied that she'd properly decorated the lids to her liking. Then, she dashed malachite beneath her eyes to provide the entirety of the illusion of being adapted to the Egyptian custom. Of course she'd heard the consequences of being different, and though the beauty that was Anastasia was very clearly not Egyptian, she'd make it clear that she intended to ingratiate herself. Satisfied that she'd done at least her part in making that so. Anastasia ruminated anew on the dilemma at hand. First, she'd need to clothe herself. Sparsely, of course, but the woman wasn't so bold as to walk the streets of Egypt fully exposed to the elements. Immediately upon entry into the kingdom, she'd seen the hateful glares of almost entirely nude passerby, scrutinizing her clothed body as she traversed their lands. She immediately purchased an assortment of bead-net dresses, so eager to blend in.
She slipped into one now, smoothing the beaded surfaces along the expanse of her body. She'd woven jewels into the beads themselves, striking sapphire reflecting the light of the world as she made out to study her reflection anew. The beads were light and airy, with nearly all that was her presented for the Egyptian populace to scrutinize. She considered her identity anew, allowing her gaze to fall upon the pristine white beads, cool material that pressed into her flesh and brought a chill of pleasure along the length of her at the contact.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star, she completed, admiring the pearly white beads and tiny sapphire blessings both before making her way out of her suite. The bard relished in the shift in the attentions hovering towards her. Rather than hateful, she was admired, double-takes to scrutinize her flesh, to admire the subtle curves of her body. The years of travel had turned Calliope of Aetaea from a lithe, weak young woman to a toned and sultry adult, her curves only accentuated by the form fitting beaded assortment she'd picked out so meticulously. She'd traveled not very far before she'd begun to play in the tavern, sweeping attention with the call of her panpipes before beginning to sing. She'd sought to learn some number of the local repertoire, but currently brought herself instead to flexing out her vocal cords with slow, mellifluous tracing of the individual notes with which song was composed.
Long was the extending of each note as she stretched her vocal cords slowly but surely, up until she noticed that one gaze above all of the rest followed her body with a heat that sought to blister her. There was an intensity to the scrutiny of this particular male, a hunger that welled within his chest. But, more than the hunger that dwelled within his eyes, she found her gaze roaming him in equal measure. There was the intent stare that hovered over her bare chest, ruminating on each and every inch of bronzed flesh that lay exposed to her. She felt the saliva pool on her tongue, her hazel gaze widening ever so slightly until her gaze was caught by a treat that propelled her to heights above and beyond that which the meager human form could take her.
Within her chest, Anastasia could feel her heart flutter, her throat tightening as her eyes turned as wide as they could go. The man was a delicious being in it of himself, but his knuckles were layered with gold and jewels that caused her heart to skip a beat. She savoured the way that these beautiful baubles reflected the light, the way he varied his gems rather than meticulously choose them as Anastasia did. Where Ana preferred the sapphires that matched the exquisite pendant that curled about her throat, this beautiful man seemed to prefer a variety. She'd almost forgotten how to speak, her singing abruptly ended when her throat tightened. She stared agape for a long moment, before letting her tongue lash along her lips in a sultry expression before she winked at the male. He looked without a doubt to be some sort of noble, or even a royal. Many Egyptians carried upon them jewels, making this kingdom more than any other a sort of home that she'd never known. Even if Ana had to deny a part of herself to live here safely, with men so utterly lavished with the riches of this country so nearby, she was in no condition to lodge any complaints.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star rose from her seat, allowing her hips to sway as she took herself step by step to where the lavishly dressed man was sitting. She didn't ask to join him, but instead took her seat at his side. She flashed a coy smile at what she could only suspect was perfection given shape and form, and she tipped forward to whisper in his ear,
"Wouldn't you say, my darling, that it's impolite to stare so much without an extension of an invitation? Let me join you, good sir. Let me know you and drink with you, and you can look at me all you want," she assured him.
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.
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The woman in the mirror was a fickle thing. Anastasia looked into her own reflection, allowing her hazel gaze to sweep along the unclothed form. First, she looked to her calves, unbound and smooth to the touch. Unblemished and mostly spared from the abusive hands of her past, she allowed her gaze to rise higher until she met her thighs. There, the smooth flesh was riddled with the very faint scars of nail prints that grew more and more jagged as they shifted closer to the part of her legs. Immediately, she raised her gaze upward, rising up to her hips, which bore in familiar places the razor thin etch of a blade. She frowned at the sight of it before she raised her gaze to her abdomen. There, her skin was bare of markings but instead, a singular puncture at her belly button which currently held a very thin silver ring bearing a sapphire stone that had been taken from her wedding band. She kept the thing as a memento, a trophy of her defeat over the brutalizing grasp Alector of Athenia had once held over her.
Satisfied with the sight of that ring, she allowed herself to ruminate. The terrors of her past had kept much of her body clean of scars, with her abdomen relatively pure flesh unburdened by the formation of markings. Alector, after all, preferred his beloved doll to be beautiful, even as he'd beaten her over and over again. Her hands rose up to her breasts just as she stared into the mirror, as if to swell their size under her own scrutiny. A huff escaped her lips when she released them to allow her gaze to settle upon her face, next. She saw the grin that caught her features, which only widened it further in reaction. She knew she was ready to leave, and the taverns of Egypt had an appointment with the illustrious bard, Anastasia of the...
Who am I today? she wondered just as she raised the brush of ochre, casting it upon herself to give her full lips a dash of red that otherwise wouldn't exist there. She raised kohl to her eyes next, tracing the sharp patterns along her eyelids until she was satisfied that she'd properly decorated the lids to her liking. Then, she dashed malachite beneath her eyes to provide the entirety of the illusion of being adapted to the Egyptian custom. Of course she'd heard the consequences of being different, and though the beauty that was Anastasia was very clearly not Egyptian, she'd make it clear that she intended to ingratiate herself. Satisfied that she'd done at least her part in making that so. Anastasia ruminated anew on the dilemma at hand. First, she'd need to clothe herself. Sparsely, of course, but the woman wasn't so bold as to walk the streets of Egypt fully exposed to the elements. Immediately upon entry into the kingdom, she'd seen the hateful glares of almost entirely nude passerby, scrutinizing her clothed body as she traversed their lands. She immediately purchased an assortment of bead-net dresses, so eager to blend in.
She slipped into one now, smoothing the beaded surfaces along the expanse of her body. She'd woven jewels into the beads themselves, striking sapphire reflecting the light of the world as she made out to study her reflection anew. The beads were light and airy, with nearly all that was her presented for the Egyptian populace to scrutinize. She considered her identity anew, allowing her gaze to fall upon the pristine white beads, cool material that pressed into her flesh and brought a chill of pleasure along the length of her at the contact.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star, she completed, admiring the pearly white beads and tiny sapphire blessings both before making her way out of her suite. The bard relished in the shift in the attentions hovering towards her. Rather than hateful, she was admired, double-takes to scrutinize her flesh, to admire the subtle curves of her body. The years of travel had turned Calliope of Aetaea from a lithe, weak young woman to a toned and sultry adult, her curves only accentuated by the form fitting beaded assortment she'd picked out so meticulously. She'd traveled not very far before she'd begun to play in the tavern, sweeping attention with the call of her panpipes before beginning to sing. She'd sought to learn some number of the local repertoire, but currently brought herself instead to flexing out her vocal cords with slow, mellifluous tracing of the individual notes with which song was composed.
Long was the extending of each note as she stretched her vocal cords slowly but surely, up until she noticed that one gaze above all of the rest followed her body with a heat that sought to blister her. There was an intensity to the scrutiny of this particular male, a hunger that welled within his chest. But, more than the hunger that dwelled within his eyes, she found her gaze roaming him in equal measure. There was the intent stare that hovered over her bare chest, ruminating on each and every inch of bronzed flesh that lay exposed to her. She felt the saliva pool on her tongue, her hazel gaze widening ever so slightly until her gaze was caught by a treat that propelled her to heights above and beyond that which the meager human form could take her.
Within her chest, Anastasia could feel her heart flutter, her throat tightening as her eyes turned as wide as they could go. The man was a delicious being in it of himself, but his knuckles were layered with gold and jewels that caused her heart to skip a beat. She savoured the way that these beautiful baubles reflected the light, the way he varied his gems rather than meticulously choose them as Anastasia did. Where Ana preferred the sapphires that matched the exquisite pendant that curled about her throat, this beautiful man seemed to prefer a variety. She'd almost forgotten how to speak, her singing abruptly ended when her throat tightened. She stared agape for a long moment, before letting her tongue lash along her lips in a sultry expression before she winked at the male. He looked without a doubt to be some sort of noble, or even a royal. Many Egyptians carried upon them jewels, making this kingdom more than any other a sort of home that she'd never known. Even if Ana had to deny a part of herself to live here safely, with men so utterly lavished with the riches of this country so nearby, she was in no condition to lodge any complaints.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star rose from her seat, allowing her hips to sway as she took herself step by step to where the lavishly dressed man was sitting. She didn't ask to join him, but instead took her seat at his side. She flashed a coy smile at what she could only suspect was perfection given shape and form, and she tipped forward to whisper in his ear,
"Wouldn't you say, my darling, that it's impolite to stare so much without an extension of an invitation? Let me join you, good sir. Let me know you and drink with you, and you can look at me all you want," she assured him.
The woman in the mirror was a fickle thing. Anastasia looked into her own reflection, allowing her hazel gaze to sweep along the unclothed form. First, she looked to her calves, unbound and smooth to the touch. Unblemished and mostly spared from the abusive hands of her past, she allowed her gaze to rise higher until she met her thighs. There, the smooth flesh was riddled with the very faint scars of nail prints that grew more and more jagged as they shifted closer to the part of her legs. Immediately, she raised her gaze upward, rising up to her hips, which bore in familiar places the razor thin etch of a blade. She frowned at the sight of it before she raised her gaze to her abdomen. There, her skin was bare of markings but instead, a singular puncture at her belly button which currently held a very thin silver ring bearing a sapphire stone that had been taken from her wedding band. She kept the thing as a memento, a trophy of her defeat over the brutalizing grasp Alector of Athenia had once held over her.
Satisfied with the sight of that ring, she allowed herself to ruminate. The terrors of her past had kept much of her body clean of scars, with her abdomen relatively pure flesh unburdened by the formation of markings. Alector, after all, preferred his beloved doll to be beautiful, even as he'd beaten her over and over again. Her hands rose up to her breasts just as she stared into the mirror, as if to swell their size under her own scrutiny. A huff escaped her lips when she released them to allow her gaze to settle upon her face, next. She saw the grin that caught her features, which only widened it further in reaction. She knew she was ready to leave, and the taverns of Egypt had an appointment with the illustrious bard, Anastasia of the...
Who am I today? she wondered just as she raised the brush of ochre, casting it upon herself to give her full lips a dash of red that otherwise wouldn't exist there. She raised kohl to her eyes next, tracing the sharp patterns along her eyelids until she was satisfied that she'd properly decorated the lids to her liking. Then, she dashed malachite beneath her eyes to provide the entirety of the illusion of being adapted to the Egyptian custom. Of course she'd heard the consequences of being different, and though the beauty that was Anastasia was very clearly not Egyptian, she'd make it clear that she intended to ingratiate herself. Satisfied that she'd done at least her part in making that so. Anastasia ruminated anew on the dilemma at hand. First, she'd need to clothe herself. Sparsely, of course, but the woman wasn't so bold as to walk the streets of Egypt fully exposed to the elements. Immediately upon entry into the kingdom, she'd seen the hateful glares of almost entirely nude passerby, scrutinizing her clothed body as she traversed their lands. She immediately purchased an assortment of bead-net dresses, so eager to blend in.
She slipped into one now, smoothing the beaded surfaces along the expanse of her body. She'd woven jewels into the beads themselves, striking sapphire reflecting the light of the world as she made out to study her reflection anew. The beads were light and airy, with nearly all that was her presented for the Egyptian populace to scrutinize. She considered her identity anew, allowing her gaze to fall upon the pristine white beads, cool material that pressed into her flesh and brought a chill of pleasure along the length of her at the contact.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star, she completed, admiring the pearly white beads and tiny sapphire blessings both before making her way out of her suite. The bard relished in the shift in the attentions hovering towards her. Rather than hateful, she was admired, double-takes to scrutinize her flesh, to admire the subtle curves of her body. The years of travel had turned Calliope of Aetaea from a lithe, weak young woman to a toned and sultry adult, her curves only accentuated by the form fitting beaded assortment she'd picked out so meticulously. She'd traveled not very far before she'd begun to play in the tavern, sweeping attention with the call of her panpipes before beginning to sing. She'd sought to learn some number of the local repertoire, but currently brought herself instead to flexing out her vocal cords with slow, mellifluous tracing of the individual notes with which song was composed.
Long was the extending of each note as she stretched her vocal cords slowly but surely, up until she noticed that one gaze above all of the rest followed her body with a heat that sought to blister her. There was an intensity to the scrutiny of this particular male, a hunger that welled within his chest. But, more than the hunger that dwelled within his eyes, she found her gaze roaming him in equal measure. There was the intent stare that hovered over her bare chest, ruminating on each and every inch of bronzed flesh that lay exposed to her. She felt the saliva pool on her tongue, her hazel gaze widening ever so slightly until her gaze was caught by a treat that propelled her to heights above and beyond that which the meager human form could take her.
Within her chest, Anastasia could feel her heart flutter, her throat tightening as her eyes turned as wide as they could go. The man was a delicious being in it of himself, but his knuckles were layered with gold and jewels that caused her heart to skip a beat. She savoured the way that these beautiful baubles reflected the light, the way he varied his gems rather than meticulously choose them as Anastasia did. Where Ana preferred the sapphires that matched the exquisite pendant that curled about her throat, this beautiful man seemed to prefer a variety. She'd almost forgotten how to speak, her singing abruptly ended when her throat tightened. She stared agape for a long moment, before letting her tongue lash along her lips in a sultry expression before she winked at the male. He looked without a doubt to be some sort of noble, or even a royal. Many Egyptians carried upon them jewels, making this kingdom more than any other a sort of home that she'd never known. Even if Ana had to deny a part of herself to live here safely, with men so utterly lavished with the riches of this country so nearby, she was in no condition to lodge any complaints.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star rose from her seat, allowing her hips to sway as she took herself step by step to where the lavishly dressed man was sitting. She didn't ask to join him, but instead took her seat at his side. She flashed a coy smile at what she could only suspect was perfection given shape and form, and she tipped forward to whisper in his ear,
"Wouldn't you say, my darling, that it's impolite to stare so much without an extension of an invitation? Let me join you, good sir. Let me know you and drink with you, and you can look at me all you want," she assured him.
Akhenaten felt her eyes on him before he noticed the gaze with his own. She seemed to be taking him in, each inch of uncovered skin soaked up by the enchanting woman. He saw her gaze fall to the jewels that decorated his hands, and he saw a shift in her. As with many women, their interest was peaked when they realized he was rich, and likely someone of importance as well. If she didn’t know who he was by his family name, she knew at least now that he was a man of means. She would fall to his whims, as all women did, he was sure of it.
He smirked as her singing stopped as she seemed awestruck by him, and he sat back against the back of the chair, lifting his cup of wine to his lips once more to take another drink, eyes still on her. She was beautiful, different in looks from the Egyptian women he was used to, but her attitude was much the same. The thought of money, title and his good looks being more than enough to whisk them off to bed. None of them to be seen again by the young heir. Why would he return to the same woman when he had so many at his whim, ready to give themselves to him with some distant dreams of conning him into marriage and all the things that came with being part of a noble family.
He watched as she approached, making no move to shift from his relaxed position in the chair he had chosen.
“Are such things considered rude when eyes are met in kind?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as she boldly approached him and whispered. He may have been staring, but she had been staring right back. He supposed he could have found worse company for the night. He would ply her with wine and words until her legs were parted, and then he would have his fun and leave her with nothing but the memory of being with him.
“Another cup.” He commanded, and the serving girl who had been ready and waiting to serve him hurried away to bring exactly that back. She poured another cup of wine for his new acquaintance and then stepped back to give them privacy, but never going too far should he be in need of anything else. Before she left, he pressed some coins to her palm, payment for quick service.
“Lord Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa.” He introduced himself, making sure to use his proper title and family name. If she knew anything about the Egyptian upper class, she knows know the name Sheifa. Even before his family had risen to nobility, they were known for their shrewd dealings in the merchants guild, and the fortune that followed such endeavours.
He finished his cup of wine before pouring himself more from the pitcher that sat on the table near them.
“I do not believe I have seen you here before. I frequent this tavern, and I would have remembered you had you been here before.” He said, unsure if this was her first time in this particular place or if he had just had the bad luck to not run into her any of the times that the building saw his patronage. Or perhaps he had just been too drunk to notice her, though he thought even in his most intoxicated state, he would not have missed spotting those curves. The beaded dress she wore left little to the imagination, but what was left to the imagination was intriguing enough to keep his attention, at least for the moment.
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.
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Akhenaten felt her eyes on him before he noticed the gaze with his own. She seemed to be taking him in, each inch of uncovered skin soaked up by the enchanting woman. He saw her gaze fall to the jewels that decorated his hands, and he saw a shift in her. As with many women, their interest was peaked when they realized he was rich, and likely someone of importance as well. If she didn’t know who he was by his family name, she knew at least now that he was a man of means. She would fall to his whims, as all women did, he was sure of it.
He smirked as her singing stopped as she seemed awestruck by him, and he sat back against the back of the chair, lifting his cup of wine to his lips once more to take another drink, eyes still on her. She was beautiful, different in looks from the Egyptian women he was used to, but her attitude was much the same. The thought of money, title and his good looks being more than enough to whisk them off to bed. None of them to be seen again by the young heir. Why would he return to the same woman when he had so many at his whim, ready to give themselves to him with some distant dreams of conning him into marriage and all the things that came with being part of a noble family.
He watched as she approached, making no move to shift from his relaxed position in the chair he had chosen.
“Are such things considered rude when eyes are met in kind?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as she boldly approached him and whispered. He may have been staring, but she had been staring right back. He supposed he could have found worse company for the night. He would ply her with wine and words until her legs were parted, and then he would have his fun and leave her with nothing but the memory of being with him.
“Another cup.” He commanded, and the serving girl who had been ready and waiting to serve him hurried away to bring exactly that back. She poured another cup of wine for his new acquaintance and then stepped back to give them privacy, but never going too far should he be in need of anything else. Before she left, he pressed some coins to her palm, payment for quick service.
“Lord Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa.” He introduced himself, making sure to use his proper title and family name. If she knew anything about the Egyptian upper class, she knows know the name Sheifa. Even before his family had risen to nobility, they were known for their shrewd dealings in the merchants guild, and the fortune that followed such endeavours.
He finished his cup of wine before pouring himself more from the pitcher that sat on the table near them.
“I do not believe I have seen you here before. I frequent this tavern, and I would have remembered you had you been here before.” He said, unsure if this was her first time in this particular place or if he had just had the bad luck to not run into her any of the times that the building saw his patronage. Or perhaps he had just been too drunk to notice her, though he thought even in his most intoxicated state, he would not have missed spotting those curves. The beaded dress she wore left little to the imagination, but what was left to the imagination was intriguing enough to keep his attention, at least for the moment.
Akhenaten felt her eyes on him before he noticed the gaze with his own. She seemed to be taking him in, each inch of uncovered skin soaked up by the enchanting woman. He saw her gaze fall to the jewels that decorated his hands, and he saw a shift in her. As with many women, their interest was peaked when they realized he was rich, and likely someone of importance as well. If she didn’t know who he was by his family name, she knew at least now that he was a man of means. She would fall to his whims, as all women did, he was sure of it.
He smirked as her singing stopped as she seemed awestruck by him, and he sat back against the back of the chair, lifting his cup of wine to his lips once more to take another drink, eyes still on her. She was beautiful, different in looks from the Egyptian women he was used to, but her attitude was much the same. The thought of money, title and his good looks being more than enough to whisk them off to bed. None of them to be seen again by the young heir. Why would he return to the same woman when he had so many at his whim, ready to give themselves to him with some distant dreams of conning him into marriage and all the things that came with being part of a noble family.
He watched as she approached, making no move to shift from his relaxed position in the chair he had chosen.
“Are such things considered rude when eyes are met in kind?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as she boldly approached him and whispered. He may have been staring, but she had been staring right back. He supposed he could have found worse company for the night. He would ply her with wine and words until her legs were parted, and then he would have his fun and leave her with nothing but the memory of being with him.
“Another cup.” He commanded, and the serving girl who had been ready and waiting to serve him hurried away to bring exactly that back. She poured another cup of wine for his new acquaintance and then stepped back to give them privacy, but never going too far should he be in need of anything else. Before she left, he pressed some coins to her palm, payment for quick service.
“Lord Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa.” He introduced himself, making sure to use his proper title and family name. If she knew anything about the Egyptian upper class, she knows know the name Sheifa. Even before his family had risen to nobility, they were known for their shrewd dealings in the merchants guild, and the fortune that followed such endeavours.
He finished his cup of wine before pouring himself more from the pitcher that sat on the table near them.
“I do not believe I have seen you here before. I frequent this tavern, and I would have remembered you had you been here before.” He said, unsure if this was her first time in this particular place or if he had just had the bad luck to not run into her any of the times that the building saw his patronage. Or perhaps he had just been too drunk to notice her, though he thought even in his most intoxicated state, he would not have missed spotting those curves. The beaded dress she wore left little to the imagination, but what was left to the imagination was intriguing enough to keep his attention, at least for the moment.
Anastasia wondered to herself what life might have been like if the desire -- no, the need to steal hadn't steeped so very deeply into the core of herself. The young woman reveled in the opulence that her thieving nature had brought to her, and truly gloried in the fortuitous skill that was formed to feed that need without being caught. However, it many times and again the force of nature within her that erected a wall between her and her desires. Ana did not wish to leave Taengea, but her run-in with the sadistic Kreios of Phosis forced her to turn the page on that part of her life. Wistfully, she'd thought much of Taengea in her journey towards Africa, but Greece was leagues away and well behind her, and directly in front of her was a beautiful Egyptian boy who asked a fair question.
Closer now than she'd been in her indulgence in the feast that was Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa, she truly allowed herself to drink him in just before raising the cup of wine to her lips. She'd been spot on in her assessment, the illustrious form of Akhenaten and each marvelous bauble on his wrists could only be attributed to nobility. Though Anastasia could lay her claim to more than one noble notch on her belt, she felt an eagerness, a thrill that arose within her at the idea of claiming another. The Egyptian noble held a beauty to him that was very stark, a sensuality to his delicate features that lent less to the aura of a visceral manliness to it and instead, to what appealed to the woman far more.
Beauty is eternal. The measure of a man will falter off and die as his body softens and he loses his virility.
However, just as the eagerness and desire bubbled together in the stew of feeling, she also found herself apprehensive. This sort of man, a flawless and exquisite work of art given life could get any sort of woman he wanted. More than likely, he had all of Egypt's women throwing themselves to their knees before him and Anastasia was not so quick to bend to the will of a man. She found her full lips curved into a wider smile as she allowed herself to digest his retort in full. She was slower to take to her wine, relishing in the stark differences in tastes between the Egyptian tincture and those she knew in her life in Greece. She let the liquid settle on her tongue as he remarked on the unfamiliarity of her.
Then, she decided before answering that remark to draw closer to him. Anastasia of the Fallen Star was unashamed of her voice. She used it to ensnare men and women alike in her tales and her stories. She screamed it into the night in ecstasy whenever the situation arose that it was bidden from her. More than anything else about her, she was confident that those around her enjoyed it when she spoke. But, her words were only for Akhenaten.
"My lord," she began, allowing her lips to delve just shy of brushing against his jawline, the cool kiss of her breath upon her skin as one hand rose up to draw a faint line along his jawline. Her nostrils filled with the scent of him, her eyes falling shut before she added,
"Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa," and allowing every syllable of the Egyptian name to pour in a sultry breath. Then, just as quickly as she drew close, she pulled away. She leaned back in her seat next to him, allowing a trembling breath to fill her lungs. She did not feel so succumbed to the lord, but she had every intention of thinking that he held the same sway over her that he did over his countrywomen. After all, the suspense of her touch, the push of her tones, and the pleasure of her company were among the many weapons she kept in her arsenal. Akhenaten was, until proven otherwise, nothing more or less than another mark for her to draw in and never see again after.
"Of course you would have, my lord. I am Anastasia of the Fallen Star, and I'm very confident that you'd remember my name and face if it so struck your fancy as it has."
The cool confidence that exuded from her demeanor, her visage, and her voice was a stark contrast to the years before, and she relished in her ability to resist and even turn those men she had her eyes on into hungry prey falling into her trap. "Perhaps, my lord you've made a wish into the sky and I've come to you as the result of it," she mused, toying with him much as one of Egypt's illustrious and worshiped cats would a mouse.
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Anastasia wondered to herself what life might have been like if the desire -- no, the need to steal hadn't steeped so very deeply into the core of herself. The young woman reveled in the opulence that her thieving nature had brought to her, and truly gloried in the fortuitous skill that was formed to feed that need without being caught. However, it many times and again the force of nature within her that erected a wall between her and her desires. Ana did not wish to leave Taengea, but her run-in with the sadistic Kreios of Phosis forced her to turn the page on that part of her life. Wistfully, she'd thought much of Taengea in her journey towards Africa, but Greece was leagues away and well behind her, and directly in front of her was a beautiful Egyptian boy who asked a fair question.
Closer now than she'd been in her indulgence in the feast that was Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa, she truly allowed herself to drink him in just before raising the cup of wine to her lips. She'd been spot on in her assessment, the illustrious form of Akhenaten and each marvelous bauble on his wrists could only be attributed to nobility. Though Anastasia could lay her claim to more than one noble notch on her belt, she felt an eagerness, a thrill that arose within her at the idea of claiming another. The Egyptian noble held a beauty to him that was very stark, a sensuality to his delicate features that lent less to the aura of a visceral manliness to it and instead, to what appealed to the woman far more.
Beauty is eternal. The measure of a man will falter off and die as his body softens and he loses his virility.
However, just as the eagerness and desire bubbled together in the stew of feeling, she also found herself apprehensive. This sort of man, a flawless and exquisite work of art given life could get any sort of woman he wanted. More than likely, he had all of Egypt's women throwing themselves to their knees before him and Anastasia was not so quick to bend to the will of a man. She found her full lips curved into a wider smile as she allowed herself to digest his retort in full. She was slower to take to her wine, relishing in the stark differences in tastes between the Egyptian tincture and those she knew in her life in Greece. She let the liquid settle on her tongue as he remarked on the unfamiliarity of her.
Then, she decided before answering that remark to draw closer to him. Anastasia of the Fallen Star was unashamed of her voice. She used it to ensnare men and women alike in her tales and her stories. She screamed it into the night in ecstasy whenever the situation arose that it was bidden from her. More than anything else about her, she was confident that those around her enjoyed it when she spoke. But, her words were only for Akhenaten.
"My lord," she began, allowing her lips to delve just shy of brushing against his jawline, the cool kiss of her breath upon her skin as one hand rose up to draw a faint line along his jawline. Her nostrils filled with the scent of him, her eyes falling shut before she added,
"Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa," and allowing every syllable of the Egyptian name to pour in a sultry breath. Then, just as quickly as she drew close, she pulled away. She leaned back in her seat next to him, allowing a trembling breath to fill her lungs. She did not feel so succumbed to the lord, but she had every intention of thinking that he held the same sway over her that he did over his countrywomen. After all, the suspense of her touch, the push of her tones, and the pleasure of her company were among the many weapons she kept in her arsenal. Akhenaten was, until proven otherwise, nothing more or less than another mark for her to draw in and never see again after.
"Of course you would have, my lord. I am Anastasia of the Fallen Star, and I'm very confident that you'd remember my name and face if it so struck your fancy as it has."
The cool confidence that exuded from her demeanor, her visage, and her voice was a stark contrast to the years before, and she relished in her ability to resist and even turn those men she had her eyes on into hungry prey falling into her trap. "Perhaps, my lord you've made a wish into the sky and I've come to you as the result of it," she mused, toying with him much as one of Egypt's illustrious and worshiped cats would a mouse.
Anastasia wondered to herself what life might have been like if the desire -- no, the need to steal hadn't steeped so very deeply into the core of herself. The young woman reveled in the opulence that her thieving nature had brought to her, and truly gloried in the fortuitous skill that was formed to feed that need without being caught. However, it many times and again the force of nature within her that erected a wall between her and her desires. Ana did not wish to leave Taengea, but her run-in with the sadistic Kreios of Phosis forced her to turn the page on that part of her life. Wistfully, she'd thought much of Taengea in her journey towards Africa, but Greece was leagues away and well behind her, and directly in front of her was a beautiful Egyptian boy who asked a fair question.
Closer now than she'd been in her indulgence in the feast that was Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa, she truly allowed herself to drink him in just before raising the cup of wine to her lips. She'd been spot on in her assessment, the illustrious form of Akhenaten and each marvelous bauble on his wrists could only be attributed to nobility. Though Anastasia could lay her claim to more than one noble notch on her belt, she felt an eagerness, a thrill that arose within her at the idea of claiming another. The Egyptian noble held a beauty to him that was very stark, a sensuality to his delicate features that lent less to the aura of a visceral manliness to it and instead, to what appealed to the woman far more.
Beauty is eternal. The measure of a man will falter off and die as his body softens and he loses his virility.
However, just as the eagerness and desire bubbled together in the stew of feeling, she also found herself apprehensive. This sort of man, a flawless and exquisite work of art given life could get any sort of woman he wanted. More than likely, he had all of Egypt's women throwing themselves to their knees before him and Anastasia was not so quick to bend to the will of a man. She found her full lips curved into a wider smile as she allowed herself to digest his retort in full. She was slower to take to her wine, relishing in the stark differences in tastes between the Egyptian tincture and those she knew in her life in Greece. She let the liquid settle on her tongue as he remarked on the unfamiliarity of her.
Then, she decided before answering that remark to draw closer to him. Anastasia of the Fallen Star was unashamed of her voice. She used it to ensnare men and women alike in her tales and her stories. She screamed it into the night in ecstasy whenever the situation arose that it was bidden from her. More than anything else about her, she was confident that those around her enjoyed it when she spoke. But, her words were only for Akhenaten.
"My lord," she began, allowing her lips to delve just shy of brushing against his jawline, the cool kiss of her breath upon her skin as one hand rose up to draw a faint line along his jawline. Her nostrils filled with the scent of him, her eyes falling shut before she added,
"Akhenaten of Hei Sheifa," and allowing every syllable of the Egyptian name to pour in a sultry breath. Then, just as quickly as she drew close, she pulled away. She leaned back in her seat next to him, allowing a trembling breath to fill her lungs. She did not feel so succumbed to the lord, but she had every intention of thinking that he held the same sway over her that he did over his countrywomen. After all, the suspense of her touch, the push of her tones, and the pleasure of her company were among the many weapons she kept in her arsenal. Akhenaten was, until proven otherwise, nothing more or less than another mark for her to draw in and never see again after.
"Of course you would have, my lord. I am Anastasia of the Fallen Star, and I'm very confident that you'd remember my name and face if it so struck your fancy as it has."
The cool confidence that exuded from her demeanor, her visage, and her voice was a stark contrast to the years before, and she relished in her ability to resist and even turn those men she had her eyes on into hungry prey falling into her trap. "Perhaps, my lord you've made a wish into the sky and I've come to you as the result of it," she mused, toying with him much as one of Egypt's illustrious and worshiped cats would a mouse.
Hena felt goosebumps rise on his skin at her gentle touch and the feel of her warm breath upon his neck. He enjoyed it, no matter how fleeting the moment as she spoke his name before drawing back once more. He would have her in his bed before the night was over, he was sure of it. She seemed drawn in by him, and once plied with wine, he would see her to his chambers and a less clothing. For the moment, he would enjoy the wine himself, and the company that the evening had brought him.
“It is not your name nor your face that have struck my fancy.” He said simply, seeing no reason to dance around the subject and pretend that he wasn’t interested in the barely concealed curves underneath her beaded dress. It was clear to them both that the attraction felt was physical, he could tell by the way she looked at him that she liked what she saw. It was the rarest of occurrences for a woman to not be drawn in to Hena’s looks. He had been blessed with beauty, as were all his family members. Looks, money and the cunning to take what they wanted were the mark of the H’Sheifa family.
“If the Gods headed my prayers they would find me with a lot more than wine and one woman this night.” He said simply, flashing her a smile after he spoke.
“Though I suppose it’s a good start. If the Gods truly smile down on me, then this night shall see us to more interesting ventures than that of cheap wine and low company.” He added, not referring to the woman herself, but the rest of those around them, none of which held money nor title of note. Though he doubted this woman held such things either, but she did not need to with her looks.
“You do not seem concerned with entertaining the crowd. Is my company so interesting to you?” He asked curiously, of course in is own mind he considered himself infinitely more interesting than any one in the room, or most people in general, but he was curious to see what sort of answer she would give to his inquiry. She seemed intelligent enough, at least so far. She knew he was attracted to her, had spotted it right away, but she wasn’t the giggling mess most women were when his attentions were turned on them. Perhaps she sought something more from him than intimate affections? Or was she simply smart enough to know that Hena could have nearly any woman he wanted, and it would take something more to hold his interest.
Either way, he was interested in finding out, and she seemed interested in him, for what ever reasons she had. He couldn’t help but be a little excited about where this night might take him. It was more than the drunken stupor he had hoped to put himself in at least.
“Surely a woman such as yourself, who calls a place like this a familiar place, has tastes for something stronger than the wine offered?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered if she would understand he was referencing opium, or perhaps she would not catch on to the hint. He knew not everyone had tried it or cared to smoke it more than once if they had tried it, but he himself loved the stuff, and it had been far too long since he had last had the opportunity. If she would accompany him, he had plans to take leave of the tavern and go to one of his favourite establishments instead.
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Hena felt goosebumps rise on his skin at her gentle touch and the feel of her warm breath upon his neck. He enjoyed it, no matter how fleeting the moment as she spoke his name before drawing back once more. He would have her in his bed before the night was over, he was sure of it. She seemed drawn in by him, and once plied with wine, he would see her to his chambers and a less clothing. For the moment, he would enjoy the wine himself, and the company that the evening had brought him.
“It is not your name nor your face that have struck my fancy.” He said simply, seeing no reason to dance around the subject and pretend that he wasn’t interested in the barely concealed curves underneath her beaded dress. It was clear to them both that the attraction felt was physical, he could tell by the way she looked at him that she liked what she saw. It was the rarest of occurrences for a woman to not be drawn in to Hena’s looks. He had been blessed with beauty, as were all his family members. Looks, money and the cunning to take what they wanted were the mark of the H’Sheifa family.
“If the Gods headed my prayers they would find me with a lot more than wine and one woman this night.” He said simply, flashing her a smile after he spoke.
“Though I suppose it’s a good start. If the Gods truly smile down on me, then this night shall see us to more interesting ventures than that of cheap wine and low company.” He added, not referring to the woman herself, but the rest of those around them, none of which held money nor title of note. Though he doubted this woman held such things either, but she did not need to with her looks.
“You do not seem concerned with entertaining the crowd. Is my company so interesting to you?” He asked curiously, of course in is own mind he considered himself infinitely more interesting than any one in the room, or most people in general, but he was curious to see what sort of answer she would give to his inquiry. She seemed intelligent enough, at least so far. She knew he was attracted to her, had spotted it right away, but she wasn’t the giggling mess most women were when his attentions were turned on them. Perhaps she sought something more from him than intimate affections? Or was she simply smart enough to know that Hena could have nearly any woman he wanted, and it would take something more to hold his interest.
Either way, he was interested in finding out, and she seemed interested in him, for what ever reasons she had. He couldn’t help but be a little excited about where this night might take him. It was more than the drunken stupor he had hoped to put himself in at least.
“Surely a woman such as yourself, who calls a place like this a familiar place, has tastes for something stronger than the wine offered?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered if she would understand he was referencing opium, or perhaps she would not catch on to the hint. He knew not everyone had tried it or cared to smoke it more than once if they had tried it, but he himself loved the stuff, and it had been far too long since he had last had the opportunity. If she would accompany him, he had plans to take leave of the tavern and go to one of his favourite establishments instead.
Hena felt goosebumps rise on his skin at her gentle touch and the feel of her warm breath upon his neck. He enjoyed it, no matter how fleeting the moment as she spoke his name before drawing back once more. He would have her in his bed before the night was over, he was sure of it. She seemed drawn in by him, and once plied with wine, he would see her to his chambers and a less clothing. For the moment, he would enjoy the wine himself, and the company that the evening had brought him.
“It is not your name nor your face that have struck my fancy.” He said simply, seeing no reason to dance around the subject and pretend that he wasn’t interested in the barely concealed curves underneath her beaded dress. It was clear to them both that the attraction felt was physical, he could tell by the way she looked at him that she liked what she saw. It was the rarest of occurrences for a woman to not be drawn in to Hena’s looks. He had been blessed with beauty, as were all his family members. Looks, money and the cunning to take what they wanted were the mark of the H’Sheifa family.
“If the Gods headed my prayers they would find me with a lot more than wine and one woman this night.” He said simply, flashing her a smile after he spoke.
“Though I suppose it’s a good start. If the Gods truly smile down on me, then this night shall see us to more interesting ventures than that of cheap wine and low company.” He added, not referring to the woman herself, but the rest of those around them, none of which held money nor title of note. Though he doubted this woman held such things either, but she did not need to with her looks.
“You do not seem concerned with entertaining the crowd. Is my company so interesting to you?” He asked curiously, of course in is own mind he considered himself infinitely more interesting than any one in the room, or most people in general, but he was curious to see what sort of answer she would give to his inquiry. She seemed intelligent enough, at least so far. She knew he was attracted to her, had spotted it right away, but she wasn’t the giggling mess most women were when his attentions were turned on them. Perhaps she sought something more from him than intimate affections? Or was she simply smart enough to know that Hena could have nearly any woman he wanted, and it would take something more to hold his interest.
Either way, he was interested in finding out, and she seemed interested in him, for what ever reasons she had. He couldn’t help but be a little excited about where this night might take him. It was more than the drunken stupor he had hoped to put himself in at least.
“Surely a woman such as yourself, who calls a place like this a familiar place, has tastes for something stronger than the wine offered?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He wondered if she would understand he was referencing opium, or perhaps she would not catch on to the hint. He knew not everyone had tried it or cared to smoke it more than once if they had tried it, but he himself loved the stuff, and it had been far too long since he had last had the opportunity. If she would accompany him, he had plans to take leave of the tavern and go to one of his favourite establishments instead.
Of course it wasn't her name or her face that drew Akhenaten to her. While Anastasia of the Fallen Star was not a woman blessed with the curvaceous body of a more well-endowed woman, she held the lithe curves and acrobatic prowess of a master burglar. All of the armaments that nature had blessed her with, from being double jointed and innately flexible to possessing a supremely beautiful face worked in tandem to create the puzzle that was the bard thief. However, she listened intently to Akhenaten and certainly shifted her body closer to his as he spoke. Intently she guided the Egyptian's arm to place his hand at her thigh, letting her own digits rest atop his bronzed skin. She allowed a low, drawn out sigh escape her lips before she released his hand and subsequently chuckled at the words he offered her. If Akhenaten sought to keep his hand in that place, Anastasia would not resist. Rather, she twisted her body, just enough for her languid movements to set an arm about his shoulders.
Again, Anastasia inhaled the musk that was the Egyptian's scent. These were a people who knew the value of cleanliness, of washing and perfuming themselves. Or was it simply the luxury of nobility to be so flawless? Anastasia of the Fallen Star was certainly no noble, but the lavish reward of her fortuitous skill brought with it the lifestyle of the nobility without the property with which she could truly give herself that sort of honor. Opulence was in Ana's nature, the ultimate reward of her stolen freedom. That chuckle wilted from her lips as she allowed herself to hover ever closer, relishing the proximity between herself and the impeccable creature upon which she rested her body and arms.
"Oh, Akhenaten, if I was asked to share you with another woman, she'd be left quite unsatisfied. If you and I are to share a bedroom, I demand..." she trailed off, pressing her lips to the young man's throat before allowing that sultry flesh to dance higher until she was able to whisper again, "Your full attention. Is that so much to ask of you?" he mused aloud. This time, Anastasia did not pull herself away. Rather, she let her free arm reach out, her gaze sidelong as she sought out her half-filled cup of wine. She brought it to her lips, tipping up her head to place the rim between them. A sip taken in full, she quickly sought to drain her glass so that the whole of her attention was fully upon the silly noble who believed that Anastasia would ever let his attention drift away from her.
His question fascinated her. More than anything, her experience with nobility with the opulent tastes that Akhenaten possessed were haughty creatures. The Egyptian in her embrace held the same symptoms within his existence, but his curiosity was tangible, heavy in his breath. It was a strange musing, but one perhaps meant to test her measure. Anastasia loosed her arm from about Akhenaten's neck. She raised her fingers through, sifting the digits into his hair and allowing a slow, gentle caress to move through the deliciously smooth waves of hair that he possessed. Of all of the nobles that the woman who deigned herself a fallen star had taken to bed, this young man's hair was the richest to her touch. Of all of the men she'd claimed the desire of, from powerful and burly to infectiously seductive in their own right, this one possessed a feature she'd yet to truly relish in. Playfully, the woman pulled upon Akhenaten's hair, intent on tipping back his head just enough to demand what she knew she already had: his full attention.
"There are times, darling, in which the crowd draws the heart of a bard. It is in music that the soul calls most earnestly to the masses. But, there are other times in which the spirit has no need to communicate its message. There are times when, my dear Akhenaten, there is fire that swells within the chests of two. It is, in my experience, asinine to deny such a feeling."
Once she'd answered, she sought to divine his reaction, and his conversation moved on quickly enough. Akhenaten brought up the pull of a taste stronger than wine and her curiosity was immediately piqued. There were other lures that pulled the mind into deeper stupors, into spells that rendered them undone. She'd seen such things before, but had never partaken in the substance known as opium. A chill recoiled about the spine of the Fallen Star, a shiver of both curiosity and pleasure at his continued proximity arose within her. She turned his head towards him, intent on placing a ginger kiss upon the noble's lips before she answered,
"Take me, then."
She allowed the meaning of her answer to remain unexplored. Akhenaten could decide what he sought to make of it.
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Of course it wasn't her name or her face that drew Akhenaten to her. While Anastasia of the Fallen Star was not a woman blessed with the curvaceous body of a more well-endowed woman, she held the lithe curves and acrobatic prowess of a master burglar. All of the armaments that nature had blessed her with, from being double jointed and innately flexible to possessing a supremely beautiful face worked in tandem to create the puzzle that was the bard thief. However, she listened intently to Akhenaten and certainly shifted her body closer to his as he spoke. Intently she guided the Egyptian's arm to place his hand at her thigh, letting her own digits rest atop his bronzed skin. She allowed a low, drawn out sigh escape her lips before she released his hand and subsequently chuckled at the words he offered her. If Akhenaten sought to keep his hand in that place, Anastasia would not resist. Rather, she twisted her body, just enough for her languid movements to set an arm about his shoulders.
Again, Anastasia inhaled the musk that was the Egyptian's scent. These were a people who knew the value of cleanliness, of washing and perfuming themselves. Or was it simply the luxury of nobility to be so flawless? Anastasia of the Fallen Star was certainly no noble, but the lavish reward of her fortuitous skill brought with it the lifestyle of the nobility without the property with which she could truly give herself that sort of honor. Opulence was in Ana's nature, the ultimate reward of her stolen freedom. That chuckle wilted from her lips as she allowed herself to hover ever closer, relishing the proximity between herself and the impeccable creature upon which she rested her body and arms.
"Oh, Akhenaten, if I was asked to share you with another woman, she'd be left quite unsatisfied. If you and I are to share a bedroom, I demand..." she trailed off, pressing her lips to the young man's throat before allowing that sultry flesh to dance higher until she was able to whisper again, "Your full attention. Is that so much to ask of you?" he mused aloud. This time, Anastasia did not pull herself away. Rather, she let her free arm reach out, her gaze sidelong as she sought out her half-filled cup of wine. She brought it to her lips, tipping up her head to place the rim between them. A sip taken in full, she quickly sought to drain her glass so that the whole of her attention was fully upon the silly noble who believed that Anastasia would ever let his attention drift away from her.
His question fascinated her. More than anything, her experience with nobility with the opulent tastes that Akhenaten possessed were haughty creatures. The Egyptian in her embrace held the same symptoms within his existence, but his curiosity was tangible, heavy in his breath. It was a strange musing, but one perhaps meant to test her measure. Anastasia loosed her arm from about Akhenaten's neck. She raised her fingers through, sifting the digits into his hair and allowing a slow, gentle caress to move through the deliciously smooth waves of hair that he possessed. Of all of the nobles that the woman who deigned herself a fallen star had taken to bed, this young man's hair was the richest to her touch. Of all of the men she'd claimed the desire of, from powerful and burly to infectiously seductive in their own right, this one possessed a feature she'd yet to truly relish in. Playfully, the woman pulled upon Akhenaten's hair, intent on tipping back his head just enough to demand what she knew she already had: his full attention.
"There are times, darling, in which the crowd draws the heart of a bard. It is in music that the soul calls most earnestly to the masses. But, there are other times in which the spirit has no need to communicate its message. There are times when, my dear Akhenaten, there is fire that swells within the chests of two. It is, in my experience, asinine to deny such a feeling."
Once she'd answered, she sought to divine his reaction, and his conversation moved on quickly enough. Akhenaten brought up the pull of a taste stronger than wine and her curiosity was immediately piqued. There were other lures that pulled the mind into deeper stupors, into spells that rendered them undone. She'd seen such things before, but had never partaken in the substance known as opium. A chill recoiled about the spine of the Fallen Star, a shiver of both curiosity and pleasure at his continued proximity arose within her. She turned his head towards him, intent on placing a ginger kiss upon the noble's lips before she answered,
"Take me, then."
She allowed the meaning of her answer to remain unexplored. Akhenaten could decide what he sought to make of it.
Of course it wasn't her name or her face that drew Akhenaten to her. While Anastasia of the Fallen Star was not a woman blessed with the curvaceous body of a more well-endowed woman, she held the lithe curves and acrobatic prowess of a master burglar. All of the armaments that nature had blessed her with, from being double jointed and innately flexible to possessing a supremely beautiful face worked in tandem to create the puzzle that was the bard thief. However, she listened intently to Akhenaten and certainly shifted her body closer to his as he spoke. Intently she guided the Egyptian's arm to place his hand at her thigh, letting her own digits rest atop his bronzed skin. She allowed a low, drawn out sigh escape her lips before she released his hand and subsequently chuckled at the words he offered her. If Akhenaten sought to keep his hand in that place, Anastasia would not resist. Rather, she twisted her body, just enough for her languid movements to set an arm about his shoulders.
Again, Anastasia inhaled the musk that was the Egyptian's scent. These were a people who knew the value of cleanliness, of washing and perfuming themselves. Or was it simply the luxury of nobility to be so flawless? Anastasia of the Fallen Star was certainly no noble, but the lavish reward of her fortuitous skill brought with it the lifestyle of the nobility without the property with which she could truly give herself that sort of honor. Opulence was in Ana's nature, the ultimate reward of her stolen freedom. That chuckle wilted from her lips as she allowed herself to hover ever closer, relishing the proximity between herself and the impeccable creature upon which she rested her body and arms.
"Oh, Akhenaten, if I was asked to share you with another woman, she'd be left quite unsatisfied. If you and I are to share a bedroom, I demand..." she trailed off, pressing her lips to the young man's throat before allowing that sultry flesh to dance higher until she was able to whisper again, "Your full attention. Is that so much to ask of you?" he mused aloud. This time, Anastasia did not pull herself away. Rather, she let her free arm reach out, her gaze sidelong as she sought out her half-filled cup of wine. She brought it to her lips, tipping up her head to place the rim between them. A sip taken in full, she quickly sought to drain her glass so that the whole of her attention was fully upon the silly noble who believed that Anastasia would ever let his attention drift away from her.
His question fascinated her. More than anything, her experience with nobility with the opulent tastes that Akhenaten possessed were haughty creatures. The Egyptian in her embrace held the same symptoms within his existence, but his curiosity was tangible, heavy in his breath. It was a strange musing, but one perhaps meant to test her measure. Anastasia loosed her arm from about Akhenaten's neck. She raised her fingers through, sifting the digits into his hair and allowing a slow, gentle caress to move through the deliciously smooth waves of hair that he possessed. Of all of the nobles that the woman who deigned herself a fallen star had taken to bed, this young man's hair was the richest to her touch. Of all of the men she'd claimed the desire of, from powerful and burly to infectiously seductive in their own right, this one possessed a feature she'd yet to truly relish in. Playfully, the woman pulled upon Akhenaten's hair, intent on tipping back his head just enough to demand what she knew she already had: his full attention.
"There are times, darling, in which the crowd draws the heart of a bard. It is in music that the soul calls most earnestly to the masses. But, there are other times in which the spirit has no need to communicate its message. There are times when, my dear Akhenaten, there is fire that swells within the chests of two. It is, in my experience, asinine to deny such a feeling."
Once she'd answered, she sought to divine his reaction, and his conversation moved on quickly enough. Akhenaten brought up the pull of a taste stronger than wine and her curiosity was immediately piqued. There were other lures that pulled the mind into deeper stupors, into spells that rendered them undone. She'd seen such things before, but had never partaken in the substance known as opium. A chill recoiled about the spine of the Fallen Star, a shiver of both curiosity and pleasure at his continued proximity arose within her. She turned his head towards him, intent on placing a ginger kiss upon the noble's lips before she answered,
"Take me, then."
She allowed the meaning of her answer to remain unexplored. Akhenaten could decide what he sought to make of it.
Hena was surprised as she guided his hand to her thigh, though not overly. Her words and actions showed that she was clearly attracted to him, and so even after her hand left his, his hand didn’t leave the soft skin of her thigh, instead his hand slid a little further, gripping her inner thigh he pulled her leg slightly further apart from the other one, spreading her legs just a bit more, though his hand didn’t move from it’s spot on her thigh, and his gaze didn’t leave hers. It was more a show of power than anything else, one he thought was sure to turn her on. She hadn’t put his hand on her thigh because she didn’t want his touch.
She seemed to just be moving closer and closer to him, and he wasn’t complaining at all. Her presence was intoxicating in and of itself. This woman was dangerous in her own way, and Hena could see himself falling into something bad with her. Not a relationship, he didn’t do relationships, but something more wild, more intense. Something that he wasn’t entirely opposed to, depending on how this night went. Perhaps he had her all wrong and this was nothing, and it would stay nothing, but for the moment there was a fire between the two. A fire that seemed to be heating both of them, threatening to burn them if they weren’t careful. Luckily, Hena was never careful.
Hena smirked a little as she spoke of wanting his full attention as her lips were on his neck, he looked over and reached up to put one finger under her chin, tilting her face to look at him, their lips nearly touching as he spoke his reply.
“You couldn’t handle all of my attention.” He said in a low voice, dropping his hand from her chin and pulling away just slightly to down the rest of his wine.
Again she surprised him with such a bold move as to run her fingers through his hair. Luckily for her he was invested in the current situation of she might have felt his wrath at the touch to his precious hair. The touch was welcome, one he most enjoyed when it was the gentle caress of a lover as it had been now. Or the gentle caress of a future lover, a future which he intended to see brought to him with haste.
The tug to his hair had him seeing a flash of red hot anger, but one that faded quickly as he listened to her sultry sweet voice. She was doing things to him that he couldn’t remember anyone having done to him before. The mixture of slight anger and sexual tension had the fire in him ignited further and he wasn’t going to let her leave that night without spending some quality time in his bed for sure. If things felt like this with just a bit of teasing and talk, he could imagine the sparks that would fly when they were together more intimately.
In her usual pattern of surprising him, suddenly her lips were on his, but only for the most fleeting of moments, which succeed in making him want her more. It seemed like around every corner she knew just what to do to keep his attention entirely fixed on her, how to push his buttons and do the unexpected. The longer she was in his presence, the more he wanted her. He thought if she was not in his bed soon, he would well and truly lose all sense. Akhenaten was usually the seducer, the one who was in control of the situation and guiding his chosen target the way he wanted. It seemed he had met his match, at least when it came to the game of seduction, as she was playing him like an instrument and though he was aware of it, he welcomed every second of it.
Another smirk took over his face as she said he could take her. The meaning behind her words was shrouded in shadows, and he meant to take that in several different ways. But for the moment, his mind was onto thoughts of opium and the delicious feeling it gave.
“Come then.” He said, hand still on her thigh, he slid it up a bit further temporarily, teasing her with the gentle touch, coming close to areas yet to be explored before he pulled his hand away fully, pulling out of her embrace, he stood and moved to pay the serving girl for the provided drinks before he was grabbing the pitcher of wine, not wishing to waste the remaining contents. The drink would see their thirst quenched on their way to their new destination.
As she moved to walk with him, his arm was tossed around her shoulders and he lead her out of the tavern and back out onto the street. The steps to the opium den he liked around here were like second nature to him, even as the drinks from the night began to swirl around his head. He lifted the pitcher to his lips, taking a deep drink before offering it over to her.
“Tell me then. How often is it that you leave with strange men and head off into the night to unknown destinations?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her. If he had seen her in the daylight and with less revealing clothes, she looked everything like an innocent woman. Someone who would be a wife and a mother, not someone who was drinking in taverns and leaving with men they had just met. The thought sort of attracted him more, the looks of innocence mixed with the complete opposite attitude. She wasn’t as she seemed, even as his eyes had first landed on her in the tavern, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt that there was something laying underneath what he had seen so far, and he was excited at the prospect of digging a little deeper and seeing what he could find.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hena was surprised as she guided his hand to her thigh, though not overly. Her words and actions showed that she was clearly attracted to him, and so even after her hand left his, his hand didn’t leave the soft skin of her thigh, instead his hand slid a little further, gripping her inner thigh he pulled her leg slightly further apart from the other one, spreading her legs just a bit more, though his hand didn’t move from it’s spot on her thigh, and his gaze didn’t leave hers. It was more a show of power than anything else, one he thought was sure to turn her on. She hadn’t put his hand on her thigh because she didn’t want his touch.
She seemed to just be moving closer and closer to him, and he wasn’t complaining at all. Her presence was intoxicating in and of itself. This woman was dangerous in her own way, and Hena could see himself falling into something bad with her. Not a relationship, he didn’t do relationships, but something more wild, more intense. Something that he wasn’t entirely opposed to, depending on how this night went. Perhaps he had her all wrong and this was nothing, and it would stay nothing, but for the moment there was a fire between the two. A fire that seemed to be heating both of them, threatening to burn them if they weren’t careful. Luckily, Hena was never careful.
Hena smirked a little as she spoke of wanting his full attention as her lips were on his neck, he looked over and reached up to put one finger under her chin, tilting her face to look at him, their lips nearly touching as he spoke his reply.
“You couldn’t handle all of my attention.” He said in a low voice, dropping his hand from her chin and pulling away just slightly to down the rest of his wine.
Again she surprised him with such a bold move as to run her fingers through his hair. Luckily for her he was invested in the current situation of she might have felt his wrath at the touch to his precious hair. The touch was welcome, one he most enjoyed when it was the gentle caress of a lover as it had been now. Or the gentle caress of a future lover, a future which he intended to see brought to him with haste.
The tug to his hair had him seeing a flash of red hot anger, but one that faded quickly as he listened to her sultry sweet voice. She was doing things to him that he couldn’t remember anyone having done to him before. The mixture of slight anger and sexual tension had the fire in him ignited further and he wasn’t going to let her leave that night without spending some quality time in his bed for sure. If things felt like this with just a bit of teasing and talk, he could imagine the sparks that would fly when they were together more intimately.
In her usual pattern of surprising him, suddenly her lips were on his, but only for the most fleeting of moments, which succeed in making him want her more. It seemed like around every corner she knew just what to do to keep his attention entirely fixed on her, how to push his buttons and do the unexpected. The longer she was in his presence, the more he wanted her. He thought if she was not in his bed soon, he would well and truly lose all sense. Akhenaten was usually the seducer, the one who was in control of the situation and guiding his chosen target the way he wanted. It seemed he had met his match, at least when it came to the game of seduction, as she was playing him like an instrument and though he was aware of it, he welcomed every second of it.
Another smirk took over his face as she said he could take her. The meaning behind her words was shrouded in shadows, and he meant to take that in several different ways. But for the moment, his mind was onto thoughts of opium and the delicious feeling it gave.
“Come then.” He said, hand still on her thigh, he slid it up a bit further temporarily, teasing her with the gentle touch, coming close to areas yet to be explored before he pulled his hand away fully, pulling out of her embrace, he stood and moved to pay the serving girl for the provided drinks before he was grabbing the pitcher of wine, not wishing to waste the remaining contents. The drink would see their thirst quenched on their way to their new destination.
As she moved to walk with him, his arm was tossed around her shoulders and he lead her out of the tavern and back out onto the street. The steps to the opium den he liked around here were like second nature to him, even as the drinks from the night began to swirl around his head. He lifted the pitcher to his lips, taking a deep drink before offering it over to her.
“Tell me then. How often is it that you leave with strange men and head off into the night to unknown destinations?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her. If he had seen her in the daylight and with less revealing clothes, she looked everything like an innocent woman. Someone who would be a wife and a mother, not someone who was drinking in taverns and leaving with men they had just met. The thought sort of attracted him more, the looks of innocence mixed with the complete opposite attitude. She wasn’t as she seemed, even as his eyes had first landed on her in the tavern, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt that there was something laying underneath what he had seen so far, and he was excited at the prospect of digging a little deeper and seeing what he could find.
Hena was surprised as she guided his hand to her thigh, though not overly. Her words and actions showed that she was clearly attracted to him, and so even after her hand left his, his hand didn’t leave the soft skin of her thigh, instead his hand slid a little further, gripping her inner thigh he pulled her leg slightly further apart from the other one, spreading her legs just a bit more, though his hand didn’t move from it’s spot on her thigh, and his gaze didn’t leave hers. It was more a show of power than anything else, one he thought was sure to turn her on. She hadn’t put his hand on her thigh because she didn’t want his touch.
She seemed to just be moving closer and closer to him, and he wasn’t complaining at all. Her presence was intoxicating in and of itself. This woman was dangerous in her own way, and Hena could see himself falling into something bad with her. Not a relationship, he didn’t do relationships, but something more wild, more intense. Something that he wasn’t entirely opposed to, depending on how this night went. Perhaps he had her all wrong and this was nothing, and it would stay nothing, but for the moment there was a fire between the two. A fire that seemed to be heating both of them, threatening to burn them if they weren’t careful. Luckily, Hena was never careful.
Hena smirked a little as she spoke of wanting his full attention as her lips were on his neck, he looked over and reached up to put one finger under her chin, tilting her face to look at him, their lips nearly touching as he spoke his reply.
“You couldn’t handle all of my attention.” He said in a low voice, dropping his hand from her chin and pulling away just slightly to down the rest of his wine.
Again she surprised him with such a bold move as to run her fingers through his hair. Luckily for her he was invested in the current situation of she might have felt his wrath at the touch to his precious hair. The touch was welcome, one he most enjoyed when it was the gentle caress of a lover as it had been now. Or the gentle caress of a future lover, a future which he intended to see brought to him with haste.
The tug to his hair had him seeing a flash of red hot anger, but one that faded quickly as he listened to her sultry sweet voice. She was doing things to him that he couldn’t remember anyone having done to him before. The mixture of slight anger and sexual tension had the fire in him ignited further and he wasn’t going to let her leave that night without spending some quality time in his bed for sure. If things felt like this with just a bit of teasing and talk, he could imagine the sparks that would fly when they were together more intimately.
In her usual pattern of surprising him, suddenly her lips were on his, but only for the most fleeting of moments, which succeed in making him want her more. It seemed like around every corner she knew just what to do to keep his attention entirely fixed on her, how to push his buttons and do the unexpected. The longer she was in his presence, the more he wanted her. He thought if she was not in his bed soon, he would well and truly lose all sense. Akhenaten was usually the seducer, the one who was in control of the situation and guiding his chosen target the way he wanted. It seemed he had met his match, at least when it came to the game of seduction, as she was playing him like an instrument and though he was aware of it, he welcomed every second of it.
Another smirk took over his face as she said he could take her. The meaning behind her words was shrouded in shadows, and he meant to take that in several different ways. But for the moment, his mind was onto thoughts of opium and the delicious feeling it gave.
“Come then.” He said, hand still on her thigh, he slid it up a bit further temporarily, teasing her with the gentle touch, coming close to areas yet to be explored before he pulled his hand away fully, pulling out of her embrace, he stood and moved to pay the serving girl for the provided drinks before he was grabbing the pitcher of wine, not wishing to waste the remaining contents. The drink would see their thirst quenched on their way to their new destination.
As she moved to walk with him, his arm was tossed around her shoulders and he lead her out of the tavern and back out onto the street. The steps to the opium den he liked around here were like second nature to him, even as the drinks from the night began to swirl around his head. He lifted the pitcher to his lips, taking a deep drink before offering it over to her.
“Tell me then. How often is it that you leave with strange men and head off into the night to unknown destinations?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at her. If he had seen her in the daylight and with less revealing clothes, she looked everything like an innocent woman. Someone who would be a wife and a mother, not someone who was drinking in taverns and leaving with men they had just met. The thought sort of attracted him more, the looks of innocence mixed with the complete opposite attitude. She wasn’t as she seemed, even as his eyes had first landed on her in the tavern, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt that there was something laying underneath what he had seen so far, and he was excited at the prospect of digging a little deeper and seeing what he could find.
There was always something wildly satisfying about watching a man crumble before the power of a woman. There were the limitations that society placed on women, limitations that men had created due to their strength and Anastasia of the Fallen Star would not argue with the way that such power existed. It was not her place to topple society, but neither was it her place to live within it. Anastasia had woven herself a legend outside of society, elevated herself from mere tourist to a bard capable of pulling the heartstrings of clientele. Little did they realize that they were marks, and bit by bit jewels were stolen away from their stores and their coin-purses lighter from the experience of her company. Always, Anastasia relished in the sheer exhilaration of it all, but tonight she experienced an exhilaration of an entirely different sort.
Desire.
It was one thing, to feel a sense of attraction, a one and done experience that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with carnal satisfaction. It was another thing entirely, however, to be so captivated by the beauty of a man. She'd felt similar emotions with women, the blooming sensation that caused her heart to flutter. But this was different. It was visceral in a way that Anastasia of the Fallen Star did not understand. And so, she found herself curious to explore it. The woman grinned at Akhenaten as he placed his rebuttal, but even with the retort she wondered if there was sincerity in it. Or, was he falling to the feminine wiles of a foreigner? Could Anastasia lure this beautiful Egyptian into something she suspected he'd never felt before? There was no desire for love or romance, for so shaken by the trauma of her past that the woman suspected she might never feel the blooming desire for romance with a man.
Then, what was that feeling?
She wanted this. She wanted to indulge further with Akhenaten. She wanted to feel his embrace and to give all of herself to him. She wanted to see the rolling back of his eyes as she climbed on top of him and provided to him the sort of satisfaction that the meek Egyptian women that offered themselves to him freely could never give. Anastasia of the Fallen Star was no harlot giving herself away for paltry coin. Her price was much steeper and rightfully stolen. The singer did not answer Akhenaten's retort, but she did indulge in looking upon his beautiful face when she kissed him. She felt the fickle sense of satisfaction that was his acquiescence. Akhenaten wanted her, as well, and the heat of his gaze upon her brought a delightful shiver up her spine that she had every intention of spreading throughout the rest of her.
When she was asked to come with him, she felt the frigid pleasure of his hand rising up her thigh. Dearly she hoped that Akhenaten would not feel the scars there, that he'd continue to believe her to be so flawless and perfect, the epitome of the expression she gave to the world to see. She hoped she was enough, the seeds of doubt wrinkling her exuded confidence before he pulled his hand away and rose up with the pitcher of wine in tow. The doubt wilted away as his arm wrapped about her shoulders. The trepidation was gone and instead she allowed a languid comfort to shift within her pace. Replacing the negative was a bubbling sense of excitement for her to relish in what was an entirely new experience for her.
Opium.
She'd seen it both in a fine powder to be inhaled and a crumble to be smoked and wondered which one Akhenaten was more drawn to. Her own fingers slid along the bronzed flesh of the noble's back, drawing delicately along the expanse of his spine before settling at his rib-cage. She turned her head to place feathered kisses along the flesh of his shoulder and up towards his neck. She had every intention of showing those that passed by that for the night: he was hers. She would give herself to him, but he was her conquest, the shining beacon of reward that she had every intention of indulging in over and over until the both of them were exhausted. The woman let a giggle escape her lips as he spoke, a grin catching next upon her countenance as she stopped Akhenaten in their path.
Hands rose up to loop about the noble's shoulders in earnest, and again the shiver of pleasure at his proximity coursed down her spine. She pressed her scarcely covered breasts against his bare chest, allowing her tongue to dance along the vein of his pulse before she said,
"How often is it that strange men possess the exquisite beauty that you do, my lord? I am no paid courtesan. I choose my conquests, they do not choose me. I'll tell you this: you are worth my time."
With that, she turned, threading her arm between his and allowed him to lead her to the opium den of his choosing.
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.
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There was always something wildly satisfying about watching a man crumble before the power of a woman. There were the limitations that society placed on women, limitations that men had created due to their strength and Anastasia of the Fallen Star would not argue with the way that such power existed. It was not her place to topple society, but neither was it her place to live within it. Anastasia had woven herself a legend outside of society, elevated herself from mere tourist to a bard capable of pulling the heartstrings of clientele. Little did they realize that they were marks, and bit by bit jewels were stolen away from their stores and their coin-purses lighter from the experience of her company. Always, Anastasia relished in the sheer exhilaration of it all, but tonight she experienced an exhilaration of an entirely different sort.
Desire.
It was one thing, to feel a sense of attraction, a one and done experience that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with carnal satisfaction. It was another thing entirely, however, to be so captivated by the beauty of a man. She'd felt similar emotions with women, the blooming sensation that caused her heart to flutter. But this was different. It was visceral in a way that Anastasia of the Fallen Star did not understand. And so, she found herself curious to explore it. The woman grinned at Akhenaten as he placed his rebuttal, but even with the retort she wondered if there was sincerity in it. Or, was he falling to the feminine wiles of a foreigner? Could Anastasia lure this beautiful Egyptian into something she suspected he'd never felt before? There was no desire for love or romance, for so shaken by the trauma of her past that the woman suspected she might never feel the blooming desire for romance with a man.
Then, what was that feeling?
She wanted this. She wanted to indulge further with Akhenaten. She wanted to feel his embrace and to give all of herself to him. She wanted to see the rolling back of his eyes as she climbed on top of him and provided to him the sort of satisfaction that the meek Egyptian women that offered themselves to him freely could never give. Anastasia of the Fallen Star was no harlot giving herself away for paltry coin. Her price was much steeper and rightfully stolen. The singer did not answer Akhenaten's retort, but she did indulge in looking upon his beautiful face when she kissed him. She felt the fickle sense of satisfaction that was his acquiescence. Akhenaten wanted her, as well, and the heat of his gaze upon her brought a delightful shiver up her spine that she had every intention of spreading throughout the rest of her.
When she was asked to come with him, she felt the frigid pleasure of his hand rising up her thigh. Dearly she hoped that Akhenaten would not feel the scars there, that he'd continue to believe her to be so flawless and perfect, the epitome of the expression she gave to the world to see. She hoped she was enough, the seeds of doubt wrinkling her exuded confidence before he pulled his hand away and rose up with the pitcher of wine in tow. The doubt wilted away as his arm wrapped about her shoulders. The trepidation was gone and instead she allowed a languid comfort to shift within her pace. Replacing the negative was a bubbling sense of excitement for her to relish in what was an entirely new experience for her.
Opium.
She'd seen it both in a fine powder to be inhaled and a crumble to be smoked and wondered which one Akhenaten was more drawn to. Her own fingers slid along the bronzed flesh of the noble's back, drawing delicately along the expanse of his spine before settling at his rib-cage. She turned her head to place feathered kisses along the flesh of his shoulder and up towards his neck. She had every intention of showing those that passed by that for the night: he was hers. She would give herself to him, but he was her conquest, the shining beacon of reward that she had every intention of indulging in over and over until the both of them were exhausted. The woman let a giggle escape her lips as he spoke, a grin catching next upon her countenance as she stopped Akhenaten in their path.
Hands rose up to loop about the noble's shoulders in earnest, and again the shiver of pleasure at his proximity coursed down her spine. She pressed her scarcely covered breasts against his bare chest, allowing her tongue to dance along the vein of his pulse before she said,
"How often is it that strange men possess the exquisite beauty that you do, my lord? I am no paid courtesan. I choose my conquests, they do not choose me. I'll tell you this: you are worth my time."
With that, she turned, threading her arm between his and allowed him to lead her to the opium den of his choosing.
There was always something wildly satisfying about watching a man crumble before the power of a woman. There were the limitations that society placed on women, limitations that men had created due to their strength and Anastasia of the Fallen Star would not argue with the way that such power existed. It was not her place to topple society, but neither was it her place to live within it. Anastasia had woven herself a legend outside of society, elevated herself from mere tourist to a bard capable of pulling the heartstrings of clientele. Little did they realize that they were marks, and bit by bit jewels were stolen away from their stores and their coin-purses lighter from the experience of her company. Always, Anastasia relished in the sheer exhilaration of it all, but tonight she experienced an exhilaration of an entirely different sort.
Desire.
It was one thing, to feel a sense of attraction, a one and done experience that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with carnal satisfaction. It was another thing entirely, however, to be so captivated by the beauty of a man. She'd felt similar emotions with women, the blooming sensation that caused her heart to flutter. But this was different. It was visceral in a way that Anastasia of the Fallen Star did not understand. And so, she found herself curious to explore it. The woman grinned at Akhenaten as he placed his rebuttal, but even with the retort she wondered if there was sincerity in it. Or, was he falling to the feminine wiles of a foreigner? Could Anastasia lure this beautiful Egyptian into something she suspected he'd never felt before? There was no desire for love or romance, for so shaken by the trauma of her past that the woman suspected she might never feel the blooming desire for romance with a man.
Then, what was that feeling?
She wanted this. She wanted to indulge further with Akhenaten. She wanted to feel his embrace and to give all of herself to him. She wanted to see the rolling back of his eyes as she climbed on top of him and provided to him the sort of satisfaction that the meek Egyptian women that offered themselves to him freely could never give. Anastasia of the Fallen Star was no harlot giving herself away for paltry coin. Her price was much steeper and rightfully stolen. The singer did not answer Akhenaten's retort, but she did indulge in looking upon his beautiful face when she kissed him. She felt the fickle sense of satisfaction that was his acquiescence. Akhenaten wanted her, as well, and the heat of his gaze upon her brought a delightful shiver up her spine that she had every intention of spreading throughout the rest of her.
When she was asked to come with him, she felt the frigid pleasure of his hand rising up her thigh. Dearly she hoped that Akhenaten would not feel the scars there, that he'd continue to believe her to be so flawless and perfect, the epitome of the expression she gave to the world to see. She hoped she was enough, the seeds of doubt wrinkling her exuded confidence before he pulled his hand away and rose up with the pitcher of wine in tow. The doubt wilted away as his arm wrapped about her shoulders. The trepidation was gone and instead she allowed a languid comfort to shift within her pace. Replacing the negative was a bubbling sense of excitement for her to relish in what was an entirely new experience for her.
Opium.
She'd seen it both in a fine powder to be inhaled and a crumble to be smoked and wondered which one Akhenaten was more drawn to. Her own fingers slid along the bronzed flesh of the noble's back, drawing delicately along the expanse of his spine before settling at his rib-cage. She turned her head to place feathered kisses along the flesh of his shoulder and up towards his neck. She had every intention of showing those that passed by that for the night: he was hers. She would give herself to him, but he was her conquest, the shining beacon of reward that she had every intention of indulging in over and over until the both of them were exhausted. The woman let a giggle escape her lips as he spoke, a grin catching next upon her countenance as she stopped Akhenaten in their path.
Hands rose up to loop about the noble's shoulders in earnest, and again the shiver of pleasure at his proximity coursed down her spine. She pressed her scarcely covered breasts against his bare chest, allowing her tongue to dance along the vein of his pulse before she said,
"How often is it that strange men possess the exquisite beauty that you do, my lord? I am no paid courtesan. I choose my conquests, they do not choose me. I'll tell you this: you are worth my time."
With that, she turned, threading her arm between his and allowed him to lead her to the opium den of his choosing.
As they walked, Akhenaten didn’t miss the light touches and kisses on his skin. It was like she couldn’t get enough of him, and that in and of itself was enough to inflate his already huge ego. He was sure that anyone that knew him would say he didn’t need any further confidence boosts, but he took it anyways and he would run with it. There was no doubt in his mind now that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and the game was won. Though nothing had happened yet, it would, and he would take his time getting there. The longer he waited, the sweeter the reward would be. Especially when his mind was addled from a night spent indulging in wine and opium.
Hena smirked as she once again complimented his looks, she knew exactly what to say to him it seemed, though it was probably obvious that the man thought very highly of his looks, based on the amount of time it had taken to perfect the way he looked before he would even step foot out of his own chambers. Whether he was attending an important court session or merely getting a drink at a tavern, Hena was dressed his best. He knew one day his looks would fade, though he would always look good for his age, but all it meant is he didn’t see a reason not to enjoy his youth while he could. Despite how his parents may argue.
“So what lies between your thighs isn’t so easily given up, but I will see that proven false this night.” He said as she paused them, he reached over and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her body in close to his, his lips pressed against hers, the kiss a little rougher than their previous ones, Akhenaten taking control of the situation for the moment. When the kiss broke, he let her take his arm and he lead her to the opium den without another word.
They entered the building, the haze of smoke clung heavily on the air, the building looked much like a tavern, though cushioned benches and couches also decorated the place, a few individuals lounging on them, eyes closed as they let the poppy take them. Each piece of furniture was placed near a brazier of hot coals, some with clay plates on top and smoke coming from them, some without for the moment. Much like the tavern, one of the serving girls came over, a smile on her face, her chest bare as she greeted Akhenaten by name.
“You know what I want.” Was the only greeting the woman got from Akhenaten before he was pulling Ana along with him over to an unoccupied bench. He sat himself down on it for now, though he knew once the poppy had taken hold, he would be laying on it rather than sitting. The bench was big enough to fit both of them, laying down or sitting up and her motioned for her to join him on it.
“Do you know how this works, then?” He asked, since he wasn’t sure if she had ever smoked opium or not. He knew that not everyone had, or perhaps she had never done so in this form before, either way he wanted to make sure that she would get the proper experience.
As he waited for her answer, a clay plate was brought over and put over top of the coals in front of them so it could being heating up to the proper temperature that they would need for the activity they were about to participate in.
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As they walked, Akhenaten didn’t miss the light touches and kisses on his skin. It was like she couldn’t get enough of him, and that in and of itself was enough to inflate his already huge ego. He was sure that anyone that knew him would say he didn’t need any further confidence boosts, but he took it anyways and he would run with it. There was no doubt in his mind now that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and the game was won. Though nothing had happened yet, it would, and he would take his time getting there. The longer he waited, the sweeter the reward would be. Especially when his mind was addled from a night spent indulging in wine and opium.
Hena smirked as she once again complimented his looks, she knew exactly what to say to him it seemed, though it was probably obvious that the man thought very highly of his looks, based on the amount of time it had taken to perfect the way he looked before he would even step foot out of his own chambers. Whether he was attending an important court session or merely getting a drink at a tavern, Hena was dressed his best. He knew one day his looks would fade, though he would always look good for his age, but all it meant is he didn’t see a reason not to enjoy his youth while he could. Despite how his parents may argue.
“So what lies between your thighs isn’t so easily given up, but I will see that proven false this night.” He said as she paused them, he reached over and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her body in close to his, his lips pressed against hers, the kiss a little rougher than their previous ones, Akhenaten taking control of the situation for the moment. When the kiss broke, he let her take his arm and he lead her to the opium den without another word.
They entered the building, the haze of smoke clung heavily on the air, the building looked much like a tavern, though cushioned benches and couches also decorated the place, a few individuals lounging on them, eyes closed as they let the poppy take them. Each piece of furniture was placed near a brazier of hot coals, some with clay plates on top and smoke coming from them, some without for the moment. Much like the tavern, one of the serving girls came over, a smile on her face, her chest bare as she greeted Akhenaten by name.
“You know what I want.” Was the only greeting the woman got from Akhenaten before he was pulling Ana along with him over to an unoccupied bench. He sat himself down on it for now, though he knew once the poppy had taken hold, he would be laying on it rather than sitting. The bench was big enough to fit both of them, laying down or sitting up and her motioned for her to join him on it.
“Do you know how this works, then?” He asked, since he wasn’t sure if she had ever smoked opium or not. He knew that not everyone had, or perhaps she had never done so in this form before, either way he wanted to make sure that she would get the proper experience.
As he waited for her answer, a clay plate was brought over and put over top of the coals in front of them so it could being heating up to the proper temperature that they would need for the activity they were about to participate in.
As they walked, Akhenaten didn’t miss the light touches and kisses on his skin. It was like she couldn’t get enough of him, and that in and of itself was enough to inflate his already huge ego. He was sure that anyone that knew him would say he didn’t need any further confidence boosts, but he took it anyways and he would run with it. There was no doubt in his mind now that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and the game was won. Though nothing had happened yet, it would, and he would take his time getting there. The longer he waited, the sweeter the reward would be. Especially when his mind was addled from a night spent indulging in wine and opium.
Hena smirked as she once again complimented his looks, she knew exactly what to say to him it seemed, though it was probably obvious that the man thought very highly of his looks, based on the amount of time it had taken to perfect the way he looked before he would even step foot out of his own chambers. Whether he was attending an important court session or merely getting a drink at a tavern, Hena was dressed his best. He knew one day his looks would fade, though he would always look good for his age, but all it meant is he didn’t see a reason not to enjoy his youth while he could. Despite how his parents may argue.
“So what lies between your thighs isn’t so easily given up, but I will see that proven false this night.” He said as she paused them, he reached over and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her body in close to his, his lips pressed against hers, the kiss a little rougher than their previous ones, Akhenaten taking control of the situation for the moment. When the kiss broke, he let her take his arm and he lead her to the opium den without another word.
They entered the building, the haze of smoke clung heavily on the air, the building looked much like a tavern, though cushioned benches and couches also decorated the place, a few individuals lounging on them, eyes closed as they let the poppy take them. Each piece of furniture was placed near a brazier of hot coals, some with clay plates on top and smoke coming from them, some without for the moment. Much like the tavern, one of the serving girls came over, a smile on her face, her chest bare as she greeted Akhenaten by name.
“You know what I want.” Was the only greeting the woman got from Akhenaten before he was pulling Ana along with him over to an unoccupied bench. He sat himself down on it for now, though he knew once the poppy had taken hold, he would be laying on it rather than sitting. The bench was big enough to fit both of them, laying down or sitting up and her motioned for her to join him on it.
“Do you know how this works, then?” He asked, since he wasn’t sure if she had ever smoked opium or not. He knew that not everyone had, or perhaps she had never done so in this form before, either way he wanted to make sure that she would get the proper experience.
As he waited for her answer, a clay plate was brought over and put over top of the coals in front of them so it could being heating up to the proper temperature that they would need for the activity they were about to participate in.
Every kiss, every touch was something that fed into the ego that was Lord Akhenaten H'Sheifa. Of course, the fallen star did not mind in the slightest to give him cause to boast. It was the prerogative of the thief to steal not only jewels and coin, but hearts as well. After all, it was the mark that let down their guard that rewarded her the most. So powerful was the power of persuasion that men could find themselves stolen away and believe it was done by their own free will. But for Ana to believe anything but a fervent desire for Akhenaten H'Sheifa was within her, she'd be a fool. She wanted him to fuck her, to take her and make her his for an evening of delicious pleasure. She wanted to get high for the first time in the embrace of a man she scarcely knew. What could be safer?
Everything, the intellectual within her said. While Anastasia did not believe herself in danger she wondered what might happen if she grew too attached to the experience. Or, what if she grew attached to Akhenaten himself? The idea of bowing to any one man and being made theirs was asinine to her, but there was a deep chemistry at work between them and even through the mild trepidation she couldn't help but feel compelled to indulge in it. At the Egyptian's words in her ear, a grin materialized upon her lips. When he reached for her, she was glad to let his arm curl about her waist. Then, he went in for the kill. If Ana was a weaker woman, the show of domination might have caused her to melt in his embrace, to submit to his touch so readily. But, she was not. The bard raised her leg, bringing her calf to dance along Akhenaten's own up until their thighs brushed against one another. Fingers had sifted into the Egyptian's hair, so eager was she to feel the lush locks part beneath her touch.
Once Akhenaten was satisfied with her lips, she pulled away as well, her hazel eyes alight with a distinct pleasure at the experience of that kiss. Always, Anastasia knew she preferred a bit of aggressive treatment. An insatiable creature by the very nature of her being, she was quite pleased to find that the dazzling Egyptian lord that time after time claimed her attention was so ardent in his expression of his desire. She threaded her arm between his, a low giggle escaping her lips as Akhenaten led her onward and into the opium den at last. Immediately upon their entry the haze of smoke clouded Ana's vision. She breathed in deep, feeling the faint sting of the substance filling her nostrils and she wasn't sure if she imagined the lightheaded feeling after or not.
'You know what I want,' she heard idly as her gaze drank in the sights before her. This was a crowd of an entirely different sort, from the collapsed and intoxicated to those ardently working to get there. It seemed that no one paid attention to one another, so deeply engrossed in their self-appointed tasks. Anastasia was used to being the centre of attention, and the fact that she wasn't brought a mixture of jealousy and a sense of indignation that she did her utmost to ignore. Once Akhenaten sat himself down, Ana moved to join him. However, rather than sit as he did, she fell onto the bench, shifting her body so that her head rested peacefully upon the lord's thigh. The giggle of before escaped readily from her, the lightheadedness growing stronger. The movement of earlier had coursed the alcohol through her blood, and already she felt herself turn tipsy.
The idea of adding an unfamiliar high to the mix of it all only made everything seem so much more delicious. When Akhenaten posed his question, the bard shook her head. She turned her body, lifting up her knees to prop herself on her knees ahead of the lord. She was playful in her mood, quite eager to indulge with him in the thing he seemed to love most. Truly, the preamble to the night of delicious indulgence was taking too long for her taste. She raised up her hips, a sway to them as she drew closer. Her hands cupped his jawline as she kept eye contact with him. She parted her legs, letting herself slide onto the bench in a seated position with a leg on either side. She drew closer, intent on narrowing the distance between them as she shook her head in answer to the question.
"Oh, no, my dear Ahkenaten. This ethereal star child has not yet had the distinctivd pleasure of imbibing opium," she began, a chuckle escaping her lips. She glanced over at the burning coals beside them before she asked him, her tone gentle as she suffused them with an exaggerated innocence that she knew very well would be impossible to believe given their limited experience together.
"Teach me."
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Every kiss, every touch was something that fed into the ego that was Lord Akhenaten H'Sheifa. Of course, the fallen star did not mind in the slightest to give him cause to boast. It was the prerogative of the thief to steal not only jewels and coin, but hearts as well. After all, it was the mark that let down their guard that rewarded her the most. So powerful was the power of persuasion that men could find themselves stolen away and believe it was done by their own free will. But for Ana to believe anything but a fervent desire for Akhenaten H'Sheifa was within her, she'd be a fool. She wanted him to fuck her, to take her and make her his for an evening of delicious pleasure. She wanted to get high for the first time in the embrace of a man she scarcely knew. What could be safer?
Everything, the intellectual within her said. While Anastasia did not believe herself in danger she wondered what might happen if she grew too attached to the experience. Or, what if she grew attached to Akhenaten himself? The idea of bowing to any one man and being made theirs was asinine to her, but there was a deep chemistry at work between them and even through the mild trepidation she couldn't help but feel compelled to indulge in it. At the Egyptian's words in her ear, a grin materialized upon her lips. When he reached for her, she was glad to let his arm curl about her waist. Then, he went in for the kill. If Ana was a weaker woman, the show of domination might have caused her to melt in his embrace, to submit to his touch so readily. But, she was not. The bard raised her leg, bringing her calf to dance along Akhenaten's own up until their thighs brushed against one another. Fingers had sifted into the Egyptian's hair, so eager was she to feel the lush locks part beneath her touch.
Once Akhenaten was satisfied with her lips, she pulled away as well, her hazel eyes alight with a distinct pleasure at the experience of that kiss. Always, Anastasia knew she preferred a bit of aggressive treatment. An insatiable creature by the very nature of her being, she was quite pleased to find that the dazzling Egyptian lord that time after time claimed her attention was so ardent in his expression of his desire. She threaded her arm between his, a low giggle escaping her lips as Akhenaten led her onward and into the opium den at last. Immediately upon their entry the haze of smoke clouded Ana's vision. She breathed in deep, feeling the faint sting of the substance filling her nostrils and she wasn't sure if she imagined the lightheaded feeling after or not.
'You know what I want,' she heard idly as her gaze drank in the sights before her. This was a crowd of an entirely different sort, from the collapsed and intoxicated to those ardently working to get there. It seemed that no one paid attention to one another, so deeply engrossed in their self-appointed tasks. Anastasia was used to being the centre of attention, and the fact that she wasn't brought a mixture of jealousy and a sense of indignation that she did her utmost to ignore. Once Akhenaten sat himself down, Ana moved to join him. However, rather than sit as he did, she fell onto the bench, shifting her body so that her head rested peacefully upon the lord's thigh. The giggle of before escaped readily from her, the lightheadedness growing stronger. The movement of earlier had coursed the alcohol through her blood, and already she felt herself turn tipsy.
The idea of adding an unfamiliar high to the mix of it all only made everything seem so much more delicious. When Akhenaten posed his question, the bard shook her head. She turned her body, lifting up her knees to prop herself on her knees ahead of the lord. She was playful in her mood, quite eager to indulge with him in the thing he seemed to love most. Truly, the preamble to the night of delicious indulgence was taking too long for her taste. She raised up her hips, a sway to them as she drew closer. Her hands cupped his jawline as she kept eye contact with him. She parted her legs, letting herself slide onto the bench in a seated position with a leg on either side. She drew closer, intent on narrowing the distance between them as she shook her head in answer to the question.
"Oh, no, my dear Ahkenaten. This ethereal star child has not yet had the distinctivd pleasure of imbibing opium," she began, a chuckle escaping her lips. She glanced over at the burning coals beside them before she asked him, her tone gentle as she suffused them with an exaggerated innocence that she knew very well would be impossible to believe given their limited experience together.
"Teach me."
Every kiss, every touch was something that fed into the ego that was Lord Akhenaten H'Sheifa. Of course, the fallen star did not mind in the slightest to give him cause to boast. It was the prerogative of the thief to steal not only jewels and coin, but hearts as well. After all, it was the mark that let down their guard that rewarded her the most. So powerful was the power of persuasion that men could find themselves stolen away and believe it was done by their own free will. But for Ana to believe anything but a fervent desire for Akhenaten H'Sheifa was within her, she'd be a fool. She wanted him to fuck her, to take her and make her his for an evening of delicious pleasure. She wanted to get high for the first time in the embrace of a man she scarcely knew. What could be safer?
Everything, the intellectual within her said. While Anastasia did not believe herself in danger she wondered what might happen if she grew too attached to the experience. Or, what if she grew attached to Akhenaten himself? The idea of bowing to any one man and being made theirs was asinine to her, but there was a deep chemistry at work between them and even through the mild trepidation she couldn't help but feel compelled to indulge in it. At the Egyptian's words in her ear, a grin materialized upon her lips. When he reached for her, she was glad to let his arm curl about her waist. Then, he went in for the kill. If Ana was a weaker woman, the show of domination might have caused her to melt in his embrace, to submit to his touch so readily. But, she was not. The bard raised her leg, bringing her calf to dance along Akhenaten's own up until their thighs brushed against one another. Fingers had sifted into the Egyptian's hair, so eager was she to feel the lush locks part beneath her touch.
Once Akhenaten was satisfied with her lips, she pulled away as well, her hazel eyes alight with a distinct pleasure at the experience of that kiss. Always, Anastasia knew she preferred a bit of aggressive treatment. An insatiable creature by the very nature of her being, she was quite pleased to find that the dazzling Egyptian lord that time after time claimed her attention was so ardent in his expression of his desire. She threaded her arm between his, a low giggle escaping her lips as Akhenaten led her onward and into the opium den at last. Immediately upon their entry the haze of smoke clouded Ana's vision. She breathed in deep, feeling the faint sting of the substance filling her nostrils and she wasn't sure if she imagined the lightheaded feeling after or not.
'You know what I want,' she heard idly as her gaze drank in the sights before her. This was a crowd of an entirely different sort, from the collapsed and intoxicated to those ardently working to get there. It seemed that no one paid attention to one another, so deeply engrossed in their self-appointed tasks. Anastasia was used to being the centre of attention, and the fact that she wasn't brought a mixture of jealousy and a sense of indignation that she did her utmost to ignore. Once Akhenaten sat himself down, Ana moved to join him. However, rather than sit as he did, she fell onto the bench, shifting her body so that her head rested peacefully upon the lord's thigh. The giggle of before escaped readily from her, the lightheadedness growing stronger. The movement of earlier had coursed the alcohol through her blood, and already she felt herself turn tipsy.
The idea of adding an unfamiliar high to the mix of it all only made everything seem so much more delicious. When Akhenaten posed his question, the bard shook her head. She turned her body, lifting up her knees to prop herself on her knees ahead of the lord. She was playful in her mood, quite eager to indulge with him in the thing he seemed to love most. Truly, the preamble to the night of delicious indulgence was taking too long for her taste. She raised up her hips, a sway to them as she drew closer. Her hands cupped his jawline as she kept eye contact with him. She parted her legs, letting herself slide onto the bench in a seated position with a leg on either side. She drew closer, intent on narrowing the distance between them as she shook her head in answer to the question.
"Oh, no, my dear Ahkenaten. This ethereal star child has not yet had the distinctivd pleasure of imbibing opium," she began, a chuckle escaping her lips. She glanced over at the burning coals beside them before she asked him, her tone gentle as she suffused them with an exaggerated innocence that she knew very well would be impossible to believe given their limited experience together.
"Teach me."
When her head was in his lap, he took the time to run his fingers through her hair, as she seemed to so enjoy doing to him, the movement gentle as his fingers moved smoothly through the strands of hair, the two of them waiting for their next experience to be brought to them.
He watched as she moved to answer him, her attitude shifting a little as he wondered if the wine and inhaled fumes were getting to her already. She seemed to loosen up a bit, not as in charge of her own seduction methods as she was before, her inhibitions lowered.
And then suddenly she was the tigress once more, her movements purposeful in their meaning as she closed the distance between them but still he did not have the chance to take what he truly wanted from her. He almost wished they had skipped the opium and instead found some where more equitable to his purposes with her. Almost. But the call of the smoke was too much for Akhenaten to resist, at least for now. Once he was satisfied in his intoxicated state, he would take her to his bed and see to his true purpose in keeping her company.
“You’ve participated in the slightest bit already.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “One can not step into an opium den without having tried opium, the smoke around us is the essence of what we will be partaking in.” He said. When the clay plate was heated enough, he shifted forward towards the edge of the bench, motioning for her to do the same.
“She will place the opium upon the plate, and you need only take a deep breath, inhale the smoke and let it fill your mind and body.” He explained, it was a simple process really. Once he had sort of explained it to her, the topless serving girl did exactly what he said she would, she placed the opium on the plate and the substance began to let off a heavy white smoke.
Akhenaten leaned in and took a big inhale, letting the smoke curl deep into his lungs. The affects were almost immediate, and he laid back on the couch, letting his eyes drift closed with a dazed smile on his face. His thoughts for the moment had stopped, and instead he focused on the feeling of the swirling in his head.
Pure bliss.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, eyes closed and unaware of the world around him, but when he opened his eyes, the woman who had been sitting on the couch with him was gone. A tinge of confusion managed to break its way through the lazy haze that clouded his mind.
“Anastasia?” He called out, though not moving from his spot laying down. He wasn’t entirely sure he could sit up at the moment even if he wanted to, the opium weighed down his mind and body equally. If she was gone, he would be disappointed, but likely not until he had sobered up slightly.
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When her head was in his lap, he took the time to run his fingers through her hair, as she seemed to so enjoy doing to him, the movement gentle as his fingers moved smoothly through the strands of hair, the two of them waiting for their next experience to be brought to them.
He watched as she moved to answer him, her attitude shifting a little as he wondered if the wine and inhaled fumes were getting to her already. She seemed to loosen up a bit, not as in charge of her own seduction methods as she was before, her inhibitions lowered.
And then suddenly she was the tigress once more, her movements purposeful in their meaning as she closed the distance between them but still he did not have the chance to take what he truly wanted from her. He almost wished they had skipped the opium and instead found some where more equitable to his purposes with her. Almost. But the call of the smoke was too much for Akhenaten to resist, at least for now. Once he was satisfied in his intoxicated state, he would take her to his bed and see to his true purpose in keeping her company.
“You’ve participated in the slightest bit already.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “One can not step into an opium den without having tried opium, the smoke around us is the essence of what we will be partaking in.” He said. When the clay plate was heated enough, he shifted forward towards the edge of the bench, motioning for her to do the same.
“She will place the opium upon the plate, and you need only take a deep breath, inhale the smoke and let it fill your mind and body.” He explained, it was a simple process really. Once he had sort of explained it to her, the topless serving girl did exactly what he said she would, she placed the opium on the plate and the substance began to let off a heavy white smoke.
Akhenaten leaned in and took a big inhale, letting the smoke curl deep into his lungs. The affects were almost immediate, and he laid back on the couch, letting his eyes drift closed with a dazed smile on his face. His thoughts for the moment had stopped, and instead he focused on the feeling of the swirling in his head.
Pure bliss.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, eyes closed and unaware of the world around him, but when he opened his eyes, the woman who had been sitting on the couch with him was gone. A tinge of confusion managed to break its way through the lazy haze that clouded his mind.
“Anastasia?” He called out, though not moving from his spot laying down. He wasn’t entirely sure he could sit up at the moment even if he wanted to, the opium weighed down his mind and body equally. If she was gone, he would be disappointed, but likely not until he had sobered up slightly.
When her head was in his lap, he took the time to run his fingers through her hair, as she seemed to so enjoy doing to him, the movement gentle as his fingers moved smoothly through the strands of hair, the two of them waiting for their next experience to be brought to them.
He watched as she moved to answer him, her attitude shifting a little as he wondered if the wine and inhaled fumes were getting to her already. She seemed to loosen up a bit, not as in charge of her own seduction methods as she was before, her inhibitions lowered.
And then suddenly she was the tigress once more, her movements purposeful in their meaning as she closed the distance between them but still he did not have the chance to take what he truly wanted from her. He almost wished they had skipped the opium and instead found some where more equitable to his purposes with her. Almost. But the call of the smoke was too much for Akhenaten to resist, at least for now. Once he was satisfied in his intoxicated state, he would take her to his bed and see to his true purpose in keeping her company.
“You’ve participated in the slightest bit already.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “One can not step into an opium den without having tried opium, the smoke around us is the essence of what we will be partaking in.” He said. When the clay plate was heated enough, he shifted forward towards the edge of the bench, motioning for her to do the same.
“She will place the opium upon the plate, and you need only take a deep breath, inhale the smoke and let it fill your mind and body.” He explained, it was a simple process really. Once he had sort of explained it to her, the topless serving girl did exactly what he said she would, she placed the opium on the plate and the substance began to let off a heavy white smoke.
Akhenaten leaned in and took a big inhale, letting the smoke curl deep into his lungs. The affects were almost immediate, and he laid back on the couch, letting his eyes drift closed with a dazed smile on his face. His thoughts for the moment had stopped, and instead he focused on the feeling of the swirling in his head.
Pure bliss.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, eyes closed and unaware of the world around him, but when he opened his eyes, the woman who had been sitting on the couch with him was gone. A tinge of confusion managed to break its way through the lazy haze that clouded his mind.
“Anastasia?” He called out, though not moving from his spot laying down. He wasn’t entirely sure he could sit up at the moment even if he wanted to, the opium weighed down his mind and body equally. If she was gone, he would be disappointed, but likely not until he had sobered up slightly.
Oh.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star needed to mind herself here. She noticed one after the other, the women who served within this place wore nothing at all to cover their bodies. She suppressed the shiver of delight in seeing their exposed breasts and smooth abdomen, statuesque forms that she might yet prefer to the delicious nobleman just beneath her. Anastasia kept her body close to Akhenaten up until one of those servants made her move to them. It was then that Anastasia decided to draw nearer to Akhenaten. She placed his arm between her breasts, landing his hand on her thigh as she watched in bewitched fascination. The bronzed Egyptian woman was a forbidden fruit that the fallen star could never indulge in. Theft was an easy law to break, for it could be done with no witnesses and escape the notice of the world. Indulgence in the so-called 'depraved' acts of homosexuality that fluttered within her mind and ticked up the pace within her chest... those acts always had a witness. Witness and participant both, Anastasia feared the idea of being made into an example.
Greece was always more understanding of these feelings. They were not accepted, but not so vilified as to be punishable by anything. Customs across the world are dangerous things, and it is easier to indulge in what can be justified, she ruminated wistfully as she listened in to Hena's words. He explained how she'd already tried opium simply by entering a den, and she agreed with the sentiment. Already she felt so light, so entranced and seduced by a force greater than her own desires. She felt herself wrapped about the finger of the Gods to be unraveled by the clay plate in front of them. She was glad to let Akhenaten partake first, for his explanation could be easily augmented by his example. Then, once the curl laid waste to his lungs and his eyes fell shut, Anastasia allowed herself to indulge fully in the beautiful woman in front of her. There was no acknowledgement of her gaze, but Ana could perhaps attribute her look to curiosity.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star watched as the woman bent low, refilling the plate with the fine powder that was opium before the coals began to melt the substance. Smoke frothed from the plate, gathering as a cloud that threatened to burst apart at any moment. The servant nodded encouragingly and Anastasia leaned forward at last. Breath pulled into Anastasia's mouth as she stood to hover over the clay plate, unsure of how to partake it in the way that Hena did. The Egyptian noble was in his own world, it seemed, and the fallen star wished to join him in it. There was a deep tension in the woman as she pulled that smoke into her lungs, then immediately the foreign intrusion was too much for her to bear. Low coughs forcibly ripped from her chest, the sensation of choking agrip about her senses. As she sputtered and gasp in her effort to draw in air, the smoke wafted up from her nostrils and mouth. Her face grew redder and redder, the pain stabbing immediate regret within her chest.
Until it didn't.
Until there wasn't.
The pain subsided within moments as the coughs drew to a close. The sensation of choking wilted away as Anastasia felt her eyes grow heavier an heavier. The thick clouds had woven into her mind, blurred her vision that was streaked with tears. Her breath was shaky as deep pleasure reverberated about every single bone, every muscle. Opium kneaded its way into her brain, into her chest, into her throat and along the curvature of her spine. The exquisite pleasure seeped into her senses and for the life of her the fallen star couldn't figure out how long passed in her stupor. Akhenaten seemed content to lay upon the bench, but Ana was not. She relished in every bit of sensation that washed upon her senses, but she did give Hena one final thing. She pressed her lips to his chest, then up along his throat before claiming a final kiss from the noble.
This is...
Her lips were on fire as the warmth from Hena's body spilled against them. She rose to her feet and she felt the shock of her own weight on her body. She took a step and a shiver of delight poured down her spine. Anastasia of the Fallen Star gave one last look at Hena before she found her pace and made her way out of the opium den in a rush of exhilarated bliss.
Everything is so...
Delicious. Anastasia needed to see more, feel more, know more. And so, in her rush of euphoria she left the beautiful Egyptian to his own devices so as to truly understand what it was to be ensnared by the powder he loved so fiercely.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Oh.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star needed to mind herself here. She noticed one after the other, the women who served within this place wore nothing at all to cover their bodies. She suppressed the shiver of delight in seeing their exposed breasts and smooth abdomen, statuesque forms that she might yet prefer to the delicious nobleman just beneath her. Anastasia kept her body close to Akhenaten up until one of those servants made her move to them. It was then that Anastasia decided to draw nearer to Akhenaten. She placed his arm between her breasts, landing his hand on her thigh as she watched in bewitched fascination. The bronzed Egyptian woman was a forbidden fruit that the fallen star could never indulge in. Theft was an easy law to break, for it could be done with no witnesses and escape the notice of the world. Indulgence in the so-called 'depraved' acts of homosexuality that fluttered within her mind and ticked up the pace within her chest... those acts always had a witness. Witness and participant both, Anastasia feared the idea of being made into an example.
Greece was always more understanding of these feelings. They were not accepted, but not so vilified as to be punishable by anything. Customs across the world are dangerous things, and it is easier to indulge in what can be justified, she ruminated wistfully as she listened in to Hena's words. He explained how she'd already tried opium simply by entering a den, and she agreed with the sentiment. Already she felt so light, so entranced and seduced by a force greater than her own desires. She felt herself wrapped about the finger of the Gods to be unraveled by the clay plate in front of them. She was glad to let Akhenaten partake first, for his explanation could be easily augmented by his example. Then, once the curl laid waste to his lungs and his eyes fell shut, Anastasia allowed herself to indulge fully in the beautiful woman in front of her. There was no acknowledgement of her gaze, but Ana could perhaps attribute her look to curiosity.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star watched as the woman bent low, refilling the plate with the fine powder that was opium before the coals began to melt the substance. Smoke frothed from the plate, gathering as a cloud that threatened to burst apart at any moment. The servant nodded encouragingly and Anastasia leaned forward at last. Breath pulled into Anastasia's mouth as she stood to hover over the clay plate, unsure of how to partake it in the way that Hena did. The Egyptian noble was in his own world, it seemed, and the fallen star wished to join him in it. There was a deep tension in the woman as she pulled that smoke into her lungs, then immediately the foreign intrusion was too much for her to bear. Low coughs forcibly ripped from her chest, the sensation of choking agrip about her senses. As she sputtered and gasp in her effort to draw in air, the smoke wafted up from her nostrils and mouth. Her face grew redder and redder, the pain stabbing immediate regret within her chest.
Until it didn't.
Until there wasn't.
The pain subsided within moments as the coughs drew to a close. The sensation of choking wilted away as Anastasia felt her eyes grow heavier an heavier. The thick clouds had woven into her mind, blurred her vision that was streaked with tears. Her breath was shaky as deep pleasure reverberated about every single bone, every muscle. Opium kneaded its way into her brain, into her chest, into her throat and along the curvature of her spine. The exquisite pleasure seeped into her senses and for the life of her the fallen star couldn't figure out how long passed in her stupor. Akhenaten seemed content to lay upon the bench, but Ana was not. She relished in every bit of sensation that washed upon her senses, but she did give Hena one final thing. She pressed her lips to his chest, then up along his throat before claiming a final kiss from the noble.
This is...
Her lips were on fire as the warmth from Hena's body spilled against them. She rose to her feet and she felt the shock of her own weight on her body. She took a step and a shiver of delight poured down her spine. Anastasia of the Fallen Star gave one last look at Hena before she found her pace and made her way out of the opium den in a rush of exhilarated bliss.
Everything is so...
Delicious. Anastasia needed to see more, feel more, know more. And so, in her rush of euphoria she left the beautiful Egyptian to his own devices so as to truly understand what it was to be ensnared by the powder he loved so fiercely.
Oh.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star needed to mind herself here. She noticed one after the other, the women who served within this place wore nothing at all to cover their bodies. She suppressed the shiver of delight in seeing their exposed breasts and smooth abdomen, statuesque forms that she might yet prefer to the delicious nobleman just beneath her. Anastasia kept her body close to Akhenaten up until one of those servants made her move to them. It was then that Anastasia decided to draw nearer to Akhenaten. She placed his arm between her breasts, landing his hand on her thigh as she watched in bewitched fascination. The bronzed Egyptian woman was a forbidden fruit that the fallen star could never indulge in. Theft was an easy law to break, for it could be done with no witnesses and escape the notice of the world. Indulgence in the so-called 'depraved' acts of homosexuality that fluttered within her mind and ticked up the pace within her chest... those acts always had a witness. Witness and participant both, Anastasia feared the idea of being made into an example.
Greece was always more understanding of these feelings. They were not accepted, but not so vilified as to be punishable by anything. Customs across the world are dangerous things, and it is easier to indulge in what can be justified, she ruminated wistfully as she listened in to Hena's words. He explained how she'd already tried opium simply by entering a den, and she agreed with the sentiment. Already she felt so light, so entranced and seduced by a force greater than her own desires. She felt herself wrapped about the finger of the Gods to be unraveled by the clay plate in front of them. She was glad to let Akhenaten partake first, for his explanation could be easily augmented by his example. Then, once the curl laid waste to his lungs and his eyes fell shut, Anastasia allowed herself to indulge fully in the beautiful woman in front of her. There was no acknowledgement of her gaze, but Ana could perhaps attribute her look to curiosity.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star watched as the woman bent low, refilling the plate with the fine powder that was opium before the coals began to melt the substance. Smoke frothed from the plate, gathering as a cloud that threatened to burst apart at any moment. The servant nodded encouragingly and Anastasia leaned forward at last. Breath pulled into Anastasia's mouth as she stood to hover over the clay plate, unsure of how to partake it in the way that Hena did. The Egyptian noble was in his own world, it seemed, and the fallen star wished to join him in it. There was a deep tension in the woman as she pulled that smoke into her lungs, then immediately the foreign intrusion was too much for her to bear. Low coughs forcibly ripped from her chest, the sensation of choking agrip about her senses. As she sputtered and gasp in her effort to draw in air, the smoke wafted up from her nostrils and mouth. Her face grew redder and redder, the pain stabbing immediate regret within her chest.
Until it didn't.
Until there wasn't.
The pain subsided within moments as the coughs drew to a close. The sensation of choking wilted away as Anastasia felt her eyes grow heavier an heavier. The thick clouds had woven into her mind, blurred her vision that was streaked with tears. Her breath was shaky as deep pleasure reverberated about every single bone, every muscle. Opium kneaded its way into her brain, into her chest, into her throat and along the curvature of her spine. The exquisite pleasure seeped into her senses and for the life of her the fallen star couldn't figure out how long passed in her stupor. Akhenaten seemed content to lay upon the bench, but Ana was not. She relished in every bit of sensation that washed upon her senses, but she did give Hena one final thing. She pressed her lips to his chest, then up along his throat before claiming a final kiss from the noble.
This is...
Her lips were on fire as the warmth from Hena's body spilled against them. She rose to her feet and she felt the shock of her own weight on her body. She took a step and a shiver of delight poured down her spine. Anastasia of the Fallen Star gave one last look at Hena before she found her pace and made her way out of the opium den in a rush of exhilarated bliss.
Everything is so...
Delicious. Anastasia needed to see more, feel more, know more. And so, in her rush of euphoria she left the beautiful Egyptian to his own devices so as to truly understand what it was to be ensnared by the powder he loved so fiercely.