The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
The event was one of those festivities that you just had to attend. The why and how of it didn't matter. It wasn't that the food - whilst fine - was any better than other noble feasts and that the wine - whilst expensive - was any sweeter than was served by other Heis. The entertainment - in forms of dancers and musicians, with gossamer strips and shining decor - was no more dramatic and engaging than any other highbrow event... At least not as far as Rubiah was concerned.
Perhaps it was the rarity of the show that had members of the rich and famous families of Egypt lining up at the door. The Hei of Moghadam was powerful, wealthy but small. With only two living members - one of whom was rarely seen in public because he was away on far off battlefields and the other that was sheltered away from view - it was perhaps the Hei least likely to host such an event.
Clearly there had been some well-to-do celebration that had called for it this time. A birthday, a business deal, a victory on the part of Osorsen the Younger. Perhaps an anniversary of a great battle that Osorsen the Older had been the hero of. Whatever it was - for Rubiah didn't much pay attention to the smaller print on her sisters' invitations when she lifted them from the household - it served to draw in the crowds. If only for them to lay gawping at the architecture and residents of a house not often open to the streets beyond.
Why Ressiah never seemed to realise that she was always her husband's guest to such events because her own invite was being used by her half-sister, Rubiah wasn't sure. Perhaps she was more of a simpleton than she had thought, or assumed that her background stopped people from offering her a formal extended hand. Or maybe the woman knew what was happening and said nothing on the matter, preferring her sister to enjoy herself. She didn't know. And she didn't care.
All she cared about, was that the little slip of fine parchment with golden painted words was enough to get her through the front doors and into the fine chamber that had been decked out as a banquet hall for the festivities.
Gowned in silken copper, Rubiah slide amongst the crowds of powerful Egyptians with all the skill and confidence of one used to such groups. Having lived on and off with her sister in the capitol for near ten years and working her way into these sorts of things for just as long, Rubiah considered herself to belong. Her sister was a Sirdett. She was nobility adjacent and had she wished to come to such things on the coattails of Ressiah she could have. Instead, she found her own way so that she could arrive alone and leave alone (should she so wish).
The people in such places often recognised her and she garnered a collection of reactions. Some sneered with their noses up that she had made her way into such things again. Others gave her a smile and wave that she stuck her tongue out between her teeth, winked or squidged up her nose at, in affectionate and friendly gestures. People loved her. She was the rebel social queen wherever she went - with no real power or authority but the gravitational pull that brought young women towards her, complimenting her dress, asking how she kept the pieces of silver in her hair and where she had been travelling since last they saw her. She was an exotic piece of tantalising entertainment.
Waving away a few of the younger girls that were asking as to the design of her gown, Rubiah tipped her head so that her long braids of black fell back from her shoulders and down her spine. Her dress was hooked and pinned with a flat golden emblem on her shoulder and swooped down to cover just one breast. It nipped in at the waist where it then split to the ankle, leaving one leg bare and the other cloaked in amber to the floor. She wore several pieces upon her arms, lower and upper but they were not thin jangling pieces like many of the women wore. They were wide, thick and latched around the muscles of her tan arms, held firmly in place. Her fingers were adorned with several rings each and her neck was bare but her face had been greatly highlighted. With thick liner, dark brows and a deep colour upon her lips, she was out in full force with a smoky gaze and a judging look.
She was lucky for the security of the paint upon her mouth when she detached herself from the girls and moved towards the food table, where she found herself a leg of poultry of some kind and tore into it with her teeth. She didn't bother with the dainty utensils but was more interested in filling her belly with something warm and tasty. There was herbs in the skin of the piece and she was forced to pause a few times, the tip of her tongue coming to smooth across her lips, She raised her fingers and licked the oils and seasoning from the tips, before pausing with her smallest in her mouth and her eyes upon a man that stood watching her...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
May 21, 2020 15:34:28 GMT
Posted In Like Gravity on May 21, 2020 15:34:28 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The event was one of those festivities that you just had to attend. The why and how of it didn't matter. It wasn't that the food - whilst fine - was any better than other noble feasts and that the wine - whilst expensive - was any sweeter than was served by other Heis. The entertainment - in forms of dancers and musicians, with gossamer strips and shining decor - was no more dramatic and engaging than any other highbrow event... At least not as far as Rubiah was concerned.
Perhaps it was the rarity of the show that had members of the rich and famous families of Egypt lining up at the door. The Hei of Moghadam was powerful, wealthy but small. With only two living members - one of whom was rarely seen in public because he was away on far off battlefields and the other that was sheltered away from view - it was perhaps the Hei least likely to host such an event.
Clearly there had been some well-to-do celebration that had called for it this time. A birthday, a business deal, a victory on the part of Osorsen the Younger. Perhaps an anniversary of a great battle that Osorsen the Older had been the hero of. Whatever it was - for Rubiah didn't much pay attention to the smaller print on her sisters' invitations when she lifted them from the household - it served to draw in the crowds. If only for them to lay gawping at the architecture and residents of a house not often open to the streets beyond.
Why Ressiah never seemed to realise that she was always her husband's guest to such events because her own invite was being used by her half-sister, Rubiah wasn't sure. Perhaps she was more of a simpleton than she had thought, or assumed that her background stopped people from offering her a formal extended hand. Or maybe the woman knew what was happening and said nothing on the matter, preferring her sister to enjoy herself. She didn't know. And she didn't care.
All she cared about, was that the little slip of fine parchment with golden painted words was enough to get her through the front doors and into the fine chamber that had been decked out as a banquet hall for the festivities.
Gowned in silken copper, Rubiah slide amongst the crowds of powerful Egyptians with all the skill and confidence of one used to such groups. Having lived on and off with her sister in the capitol for near ten years and working her way into these sorts of things for just as long, Rubiah considered herself to belong. Her sister was a Sirdett. She was nobility adjacent and had she wished to come to such things on the coattails of Ressiah she could have. Instead, she found her own way so that she could arrive alone and leave alone (should she so wish).
The people in such places often recognised her and she garnered a collection of reactions. Some sneered with their noses up that she had made her way into such things again. Others gave her a smile and wave that she stuck her tongue out between her teeth, winked or squidged up her nose at, in affectionate and friendly gestures. People loved her. She was the rebel social queen wherever she went - with no real power or authority but the gravitational pull that brought young women towards her, complimenting her dress, asking how she kept the pieces of silver in her hair and where she had been travelling since last they saw her. She was an exotic piece of tantalising entertainment.
Waving away a few of the younger girls that were asking as to the design of her gown, Rubiah tipped her head so that her long braids of black fell back from her shoulders and down her spine. Her dress was hooked and pinned with a flat golden emblem on her shoulder and swooped down to cover just one breast. It nipped in at the waist where it then split to the ankle, leaving one leg bare and the other cloaked in amber to the floor. She wore several pieces upon her arms, lower and upper but they were not thin jangling pieces like many of the women wore. They were wide, thick and latched around the muscles of her tan arms, held firmly in place. Her fingers were adorned with several rings each and her neck was bare but her face had been greatly highlighted. With thick liner, dark brows and a deep colour upon her lips, she was out in full force with a smoky gaze and a judging look.
She was lucky for the security of the paint upon her mouth when she detached herself from the girls and moved towards the food table, where she found herself a leg of poultry of some kind and tore into it with her teeth. She didn't bother with the dainty utensils but was more interested in filling her belly with something warm and tasty. There was herbs in the skin of the piece and she was forced to pause a few times, the tip of her tongue coming to smooth across her lips, She raised her fingers and licked the oils and seasoning from the tips, before pausing with her smallest in her mouth and her eyes upon a man that stood watching her...
The event was one of those festivities that you just had to attend. The why and how of it didn't matter. It wasn't that the food - whilst fine - was any better than other noble feasts and that the wine - whilst expensive - was any sweeter than was served by other Heis. The entertainment - in forms of dancers and musicians, with gossamer strips and shining decor - was no more dramatic and engaging than any other highbrow event... At least not as far as Rubiah was concerned.
Perhaps it was the rarity of the show that had members of the rich and famous families of Egypt lining up at the door. The Hei of Moghadam was powerful, wealthy but small. With only two living members - one of whom was rarely seen in public because he was away on far off battlefields and the other that was sheltered away from view - it was perhaps the Hei least likely to host such an event.
Clearly there had been some well-to-do celebration that had called for it this time. A birthday, a business deal, a victory on the part of Osorsen the Younger. Perhaps an anniversary of a great battle that Osorsen the Older had been the hero of. Whatever it was - for Rubiah didn't much pay attention to the smaller print on her sisters' invitations when she lifted them from the household - it served to draw in the crowds. If only for them to lay gawping at the architecture and residents of a house not often open to the streets beyond.
Why Ressiah never seemed to realise that she was always her husband's guest to such events because her own invite was being used by her half-sister, Rubiah wasn't sure. Perhaps she was more of a simpleton than she had thought, or assumed that her background stopped people from offering her a formal extended hand. Or maybe the woman knew what was happening and said nothing on the matter, preferring her sister to enjoy herself. She didn't know. And she didn't care.
All she cared about, was that the little slip of fine parchment with golden painted words was enough to get her through the front doors and into the fine chamber that had been decked out as a banquet hall for the festivities.
Gowned in silken copper, Rubiah slide amongst the crowds of powerful Egyptians with all the skill and confidence of one used to such groups. Having lived on and off with her sister in the capitol for near ten years and working her way into these sorts of things for just as long, Rubiah considered herself to belong. Her sister was a Sirdett. She was nobility adjacent and had she wished to come to such things on the coattails of Ressiah she could have. Instead, she found her own way so that she could arrive alone and leave alone (should she so wish).
The people in such places often recognised her and she garnered a collection of reactions. Some sneered with their noses up that she had made her way into such things again. Others gave her a smile and wave that she stuck her tongue out between her teeth, winked or squidged up her nose at, in affectionate and friendly gestures. People loved her. She was the rebel social queen wherever she went - with no real power or authority but the gravitational pull that brought young women towards her, complimenting her dress, asking how she kept the pieces of silver in her hair and where she had been travelling since last they saw her. She was an exotic piece of tantalising entertainment.
Waving away a few of the younger girls that were asking as to the design of her gown, Rubiah tipped her head so that her long braids of black fell back from her shoulders and down her spine. Her dress was hooked and pinned with a flat golden emblem on her shoulder and swooped down to cover just one breast. It nipped in at the waist where it then split to the ankle, leaving one leg bare and the other cloaked in amber to the floor. She wore several pieces upon her arms, lower and upper but they were not thin jangling pieces like many of the women wore. They were wide, thick and latched around the muscles of her tan arms, held firmly in place. Her fingers were adorned with several rings each and her neck was bare but her face had been greatly highlighted. With thick liner, dark brows and a deep colour upon her lips, she was out in full force with a smoky gaze and a judging look.
She was lucky for the security of the paint upon her mouth when she detached herself from the girls and moved towards the food table, where she found herself a leg of poultry of some kind and tore into it with her teeth. She didn't bother with the dainty utensils but was more interested in filling her belly with something warm and tasty. There was herbs in the skin of the piece and she was forced to pause a few times, the tip of her tongue coming to smooth across her lips, She raised her fingers and licked the oils and seasoning from the tips, before pausing with her smallest in her mouth and her eyes upon a man that stood watching her...
Dark kohl lined his eyes, giving an even more intense than usual edge to his stare. He'd grown accustomed to using it to assist in shielding his gaze from the sun in the southern campaign, and it had become a part of his usual attire most days. Aside from the kohl though, he looked very little like his usual preference of plain kalisaris or loose robes when he lingered at home. Today he had forgone that for a show, a reminder of the status and stature of his home and family and power. Instead, a gold collar inlaid with lapis lazuli, ruby, and malachite designs went along with cuffs of the same color and design that sat around his upper arms and another set at his wrists. His fine kalisaris were tucked about his hips and fell just past his knees with a gold belt inlaid with the ruby and obsidian ankh of Hei Moghadam prominent against his abdomen, and his chest was as usual bare. It revealed the tattoos that had covered his left arm and were now slowly spreading across his chest, including those still healing from where they had been imprinted on his skin only recently.
Too many people it seemed had forgotten exactly who he was and what he was capable of. There were people here who had gone against him and selected Iahotep to take the place that should have been his by right and birth. And it was part of the occasion that celebrated his victorious return that he intended to seek them out and get answers from those he could.
Already there had been several who spoke of cryptic decisions, one who was willing enough to admit that coin had passed hand and there had been whispers of threats. If he had only stayed, sent his unit south, or put off what had ended up being far less important, he could have spoken for himself and put his own bid to be the Queen's husband forward. Now instead his Hatshepsut was the bride of someone else, and he could have no claim to her without a death.
He had taken himself back a bit from the festivities, needing to watch and take breaths to calm himself before the rage that had been burning in him turned. It wouldn't exactly do to burn down his own home with everyone within to get retribution. Not tonight.
Without Mayet draped over him like usual his attention turned elsewhere, catching sight of the woman a few times before his eyes fell on her in focus. She looked vaguely familiar, like perhaps he should know her, but she was also distinctly exotic. Her features spoke more of the Bedoan and southern tribes than the Egyptian people, different than his usual tastes but perhaps after everything that had occurred different was what he needed. Her lips were closed about her little finger when their eyes connected and he gave a tilt of his chin, beckoning her closer to where he lingered against a column, his own lips tilted in a slight smile.
"What is your name?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 1, 2020 11:47:39 GMT
Posted In Like Gravity on Jun 1, 2020 11:47:39 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Dark kohl lined his eyes, giving an even more intense than usual edge to his stare. He'd grown accustomed to using it to assist in shielding his gaze from the sun in the southern campaign, and it had become a part of his usual attire most days. Aside from the kohl though, he looked very little like his usual preference of plain kalisaris or loose robes when he lingered at home. Today he had forgone that for a show, a reminder of the status and stature of his home and family and power. Instead, a gold collar inlaid with lapis lazuli, ruby, and malachite designs went along with cuffs of the same color and design that sat around his upper arms and another set at his wrists. His fine kalisaris were tucked about his hips and fell just past his knees with a gold belt inlaid with the ruby and obsidian ankh of Hei Moghadam prominent against his abdomen, and his chest was as usual bare. It revealed the tattoos that had covered his left arm and were now slowly spreading across his chest, including those still healing from where they had been imprinted on his skin only recently.
Too many people it seemed had forgotten exactly who he was and what he was capable of. There were people here who had gone against him and selected Iahotep to take the place that should have been his by right and birth. And it was part of the occasion that celebrated his victorious return that he intended to seek them out and get answers from those he could.
Already there had been several who spoke of cryptic decisions, one who was willing enough to admit that coin had passed hand and there had been whispers of threats. If he had only stayed, sent his unit south, or put off what had ended up being far less important, he could have spoken for himself and put his own bid to be the Queen's husband forward. Now instead his Hatshepsut was the bride of someone else, and he could have no claim to her without a death.
He had taken himself back a bit from the festivities, needing to watch and take breaths to calm himself before the rage that had been burning in him turned. It wouldn't exactly do to burn down his own home with everyone within to get retribution. Not tonight.
Without Mayet draped over him like usual his attention turned elsewhere, catching sight of the woman a few times before his eyes fell on her in focus. She looked vaguely familiar, like perhaps he should know her, but she was also distinctly exotic. Her features spoke more of the Bedoan and southern tribes than the Egyptian people, different than his usual tastes but perhaps after everything that had occurred different was what he needed. Her lips were closed about her little finger when their eyes connected and he gave a tilt of his chin, beckoning her closer to where he lingered against a column, his own lips tilted in a slight smile.
"What is your name?"
Dark kohl lined his eyes, giving an even more intense than usual edge to his stare. He'd grown accustomed to using it to assist in shielding his gaze from the sun in the southern campaign, and it had become a part of his usual attire most days. Aside from the kohl though, he looked very little like his usual preference of plain kalisaris or loose robes when he lingered at home. Today he had forgone that for a show, a reminder of the status and stature of his home and family and power. Instead, a gold collar inlaid with lapis lazuli, ruby, and malachite designs went along with cuffs of the same color and design that sat around his upper arms and another set at his wrists. His fine kalisaris were tucked about his hips and fell just past his knees with a gold belt inlaid with the ruby and obsidian ankh of Hei Moghadam prominent against his abdomen, and his chest was as usual bare. It revealed the tattoos that had covered his left arm and were now slowly spreading across his chest, including those still healing from where they had been imprinted on his skin only recently.
Too many people it seemed had forgotten exactly who he was and what he was capable of. There were people here who had gone against him and selected Iahotep to take the place that should have been his by right and birth. And it was part of the occasion that celebrated his victorious return that he intended to seek them out and get answers from those he could.
Already there had been several who spoke of cryptic decisions, one who was willing enough to admit that coin had passed hand and there had been whispers of threats. If he had only stayed, sent his unit south, or put off what had ended up being far less important, he could have spoken for himself and put his own bid to be the Queen's husband forward. Now instead his Hatshepsut was the bride of someone else, and he could have no claim to her without a death.
He had taken himself back a bit from the festivities, needing to watch and take breaths to calm himself before the rage that had been burning in him turned. It wouldn't exactly do to burn down his own home with everyone within to get retribution. Not tonight.
Without Mayet draped over him like usual his attention turned elsewhere, catching sight of the woman a few times before his eyes fell on her in focus. She looked vaguely familiar, like perhaps he should know her, but she was also distinctly exotic. Her features spoke more of the Bedoan and southern tribes than the Egyptian people, different than his usual tastes but perhaps after everything that had occurred different was what he needed. Her lips were closed about her little finger when their eyes connected and he gave a tilt of his chin, beckoning her closer to where he lingered against a column, his own lips tilted in a slight smile.
"What is your name?"
Rubiah wasn't normally one to obey orders. Especially from strangers. She lived her life as she did and she was proud of the fact that she was tied to nothing, despite the fact that a lack of name was something she resented. It was a clash of emotions that made no sense but then contrariness was in her nature. She hated not having the rights and luxury that others got by birth but then felt a sense of pride that she had achieved the same, to some degree, with having no such advantage. Which meant that her independence was a streak of honour for her. Ergo, obeying rules or instructions was not her natural inclination.
But Rubiah was not rebellious by nature for the sake of revolt. She wasn't an idiot who would refuse to follow or accept simply for the sake of claiming her own autonomy. Those who did such stupidity were morons. They cut their nose off to spite their face. They didn't understand that you could choose to follow a command and still claim your own soul and spirit. It was only when you were physically to kneel or others used leverage over you to influence your choice that you were bound. Deciding to obey wasn't a diminishment of self.
And that is exactly what she did in the moment when the handsome Osorsen the Younger nudged his chin in a manner that was a universal instruction of 'come here'. Her eyes lit up over the lips that cleaned her fingers, and she set aside the little bone that was left from her ministrations on the table. She cared nothing for the clean-up but instead reached for a small bunch of red grapes. Taking them into her palm, she then turned back and obeyed the command that was given across the room.
Moving with a sinful sway to her hips and a determined stride that spoke of confidence in her body, Rubiah didn't break the eye contact that the lord had instigated. She didn't look down demurely at her feet or blush from the attentions. She watched him with a look of acceptance and her head high. Like it wasn't a blessing to be chosen for his attentions - but an expectation. Her arrogance only stopped being off-putting because she held it with such charisma.
Her gaze broke from his only for a moment as she progressed through the crowd in a straight enough line. It trailed over the jewels he wore, over the open tanned skin and muscle he showed to all those who cared and down his long legs. Where she was short, he was tall, and she wondered just how much of him she would be allowed the climb.
Her eyes bright with fire, she came to stand before the man, possibly a little closer than was considered polite in political or noble circles and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her stare bold as the shimmering bronze of her dress fell back into place around her ankles.
As he asked her name, Rubiah plucked a grape from the bunch she held aloft, her elbow in her waist. Her tongue came out to wrap around the piece and she sucked it in between her lips. Her teeth came down on it and she swallowed. She never broke eye contact.
"Rubiah." She stated simply. As if he should know whom she was. "And you're Osorsen." She didn't give him a title, nor herself a surname. She just stated them as they were. "You summoned me here. What is it you bid?" Her gaze turned challenging as she plucked another fruit from the bunch and held it in an offering manner to him. Everything about her spoke of knowledge, experience and gameplay.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Jun 6, 2020 12:08:31 GMT
Posted In Like Gravity on Jun 6, 2020 12:08:31 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Rubiah wasn't normally one to obey orders. Especially from strangers. She lived her life as she did and she was proud of the fact that she was tied to nothing, despite the fact that a lack of name was something she resented. It was a clash of emotions that made no sense but then contrariness was in her nature. She hated not having the rights and luxury that others got by birth but then felt a sense of pride that she had achieved the same, to some degree, with having no such advantage. Which meant that her independence was a streak of honour for her. Ergo, obeying rules or instructions was not her natural inclination.
But Rubiah was not rebellious by nature for the sake of revolt. She wasn't an idiot who would refuse to follow or accept simply for the sake of claiming her own autonomy. Those who did such stupidity were morons. They cut their nose off to spite their face. They didn't understand that you could choose to follow a command and still claim your own soul and spirit. It was only when you were physically to kneel or others used leverage over you to influence your choice that you were bound. Deciding to obey wasn't a diminishment of self.
And that is exactly what she did in the moment when the handsome Osorsen the Younger nudged his chin in a manner that was a universal instruction of 'come here'. Her eyes lit up over the lips that cleaned her fingers, and she set aside the little bone that was left from her ministrations on the table. She cared nothing for the clean-up but instead reached for a small bunch of red grapes. Taking them into her palm, she then turned back and obeyed the command that was given across the room.
Moving with a sinful sway to her hips and a determined stride that spoke of confidence in her body, Rubiah didn't break the eye contact that the lord had instigated. She didn't look down demurely at her feet or blush from the attentions. She watched him with a look of acceptance and her head high. Like it wasn't a blessing to be chosen for his attentions - but an expectation. Her arrogance only stopped being off-putting because she held it with such charisma.
Her gaze broke from his only for a moment as she progressed through the crowd in a straight enough line. It trailed over the jewels he wore, over the open tanned skin and muscle he showed to all those who cared and down his long legs. Where she was short, he was tall, and she wondered just how much of him she would be allowed the climb.
Her eyes bright with fire, she came to stand before the man, possibly a little closer than was considered polite in political or noble circles and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her stare bold as the shimmering bronze of her dress fell back into place around her ankles.
As he asked her name, Rubiah plucked a grape from the bunch she held aloft, her elbow in her waist. Her tongue came out to wrap around the piece and she sucked it in between her lips. Her teeth came down on it and she swallowed. She never broke eye contact.
"Rubiah." She stated simply. As if he should know whom she was. "And you're Osorsen." She didn't give him a title, nor herself a surname. She just stated them as they were. "You summoned me here. What is it you bid?" Her gaze turned challenging as she plucked another fruit from the bunch and held it in an offering manner to him. Everything about her spoke of knowledge, experience and gameplay.
Rubiah wasn't normally one to obey orders. Especially from strangers. She lived her life as she did and she was proud of the fact that she was tied to nothing, despite the fact that a lack of name was something she resented. It was a clash of emotions that made no sense but then contrariness was in her nature. She hated not having the rights and luxury that others got by birth but then felt a sense of pride that she had achieved the same, to some degree, with having no such advantage. Which meant that her independence was a streak of honour for her. Ergo, obeying rules or instructions was not her natural inclination.
But Rubiah was not rebellious by nature for the sake of revolt. She wasn't an idiot who would refuse to follow or accept simply for the sake of claiming her own autonomy. Those who did such stupidity were morons. They cut their nose off to spite their face. They didn't understand that you could choose to follow a command and still claim your own soul and spirit. It was only when you were physically to kneel or others used leverage over you to influence your choice that you were bound. Deciding to obey wasn't a diminishment of self.
And that is exactly what she did in the moment when the handsome Osorsen the Younger nudged his chin in a manner that was a universal instruction of 'come here'. Her eyes lit up over the lips that cleaned her fingers, and she set aside the little bone that was left from her ministrations on the table. She cared nothing for the clean-up but instead reached for a small bunch of red grapes. Taking them into her palm, she then turned back and obeyed the command that was given across the room.
Moving with a sinful sway to her hips and a determined stride that spoke of confidence in her body, Rubiah didn't break the eye contact that the lord had instigated. She didn't look down demurely at her feet or blush from the attentions. She watched him with a look of acceptance and her head high. Like it wasn't a blessing to be chosen for his attentions - but an expectation. Her arrogance only stopped being off-putting because she held it with such charisma.
Her gaze broke from his only for a moment as she progressed through the crowd in a straight enough line. It trailed over the jewels he wore, over the open tanned skin and muscle he showed to all those who cared and down his long legs. Where she was short, he was tall, and she wondered just how much of him she would be allowed the climb.
Her eyes bright with fire, she came to stand before the man, possibly a little closer than was considered polite in political or noble circles and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her stare bold as the shimmering bronze of her dress fell back into place around her ankles.
As he asked her name, Rubiah plucked a grape from the bunch she held aloft, her elbow in her waist. Her tongue came out to wrap around the piece and she sucked it in between her lips. Her teeth came down on it and she swallowed. She never broke eye contact.
"Rubiah." She stated simply. As if he should know whom she was. "And you're Osorsen." She didn't give him a title, nor herself a surname. She just stated them as they were. "You summoned me here. What is it you bid?" Her gaze turned challenging as she plucked another fruit from the bunch and held it in an offering manner to him. Everything about her spoke of knowledge, experience and gameplay.
His gaze followed her in the manner she expected it to as she wove her way towards him, lingering on the way the light shone against her skin and the curve of her hips as they swayed in the red material. The bare breast was not shocking, but it was certainly a tantalizing glimpse at what her body offered beneath the drape of the fabric, and his lips twitched in a smile as she halted before him. Watching her lips wrap around the grape before she replied, his dark eyes betrayed a heat that she seemed content to stoke within him though the rest of his expression was mostly impassive.
Rubiah. She was familiar, though he could not place her, not of a noble family perhaps but certainly of class. A merchant's daughter, wealthy enough to place her here, or the companion of one of the finer ladies who had taught her well. He wondered if she had done reconnaissance on him, discovered that he preferred to be simply Osorsen, not Sirdar H'Moghadam. It was not difficult looking him over to see that he himself preferred to buck tradition. His beard and natural hair in place of the mostly hairless or wigged noblemen that filled the party around them, the tattoos along his left arm and shoulder were slowly expanding onto his chest, each one a symbol of his family or the victories he had won.
"You are familiar to me, Rubiah. Yet I feel I would remember if we had been introduced." Delicate fingers plucked another grape from the bunch and as she offered it to him, he knew exactly who he desired to bring into his bed that night. Mayet would scold no doubt, and play cold at him for a few days, but she was used enough to his occasional use of others that he could win her back without trouble. After all, he had given her all that he could for the time being, one night without him would not go amiss.
Taking her wrist as she offered to him, he brought the fruit and her fingers to his lips, teeth scraping gently against her fingertips as he took hold of the grape, the juicy richness bursting across his tongue. He released his hold on her though he did not wish for her to move away just yet, his own gaze still locked with hers as she asked what he bid. His summons had been one of interest that had only grown in the moments they had spent in one another's company, and desire was burning slowly in his chest as she remained close.
"I wish to know more of you. How if such beauty has been close by it has so far escaped my notice, and how you have just now come to be here." This time he took one of the grapes she held, offering it out to her as she had done, the spark of interest well and truly lit. No doubt before the night was past it would be fanned into a flame.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Aug 4, 2020 10:21:24 GMT
Posted In Like Gravity on Aug 4, 2020 10:21:24 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
His gaze followed her in the manner she expected it to as she wove her way towards him, lingering on the way the light shone against her skin and the curve of her hips as they swayed in the red material. The bare breast was not shocking, but it was certainly a tantalizing glimpse at what her body offered beneath the drape of the fabric, and his lips twitched in a smile as she halted before him. Watching her lips wrap around the grape before she replied, his dark eyes betrayed a heat that she seemed content to stoke within him though the rest of his expression was mostly impassive.
Rubiah. She was familiar, though he could not place her, not of a noble family perhaps but certainly of class. A merchant's daughter, wealthy enough to place her here, or the companion of one of the finer ladies who had taught her well. He wondered if she had done reconnaissance on him, discovered that he preferred to be simply Osorsen, not Sirdar H'Moghadam. It was not difficult looking him over to see that he himself preferred to buck tradition. His beard and natural hair in place of the mostly hairless or wigged noblemen that filled the party around them, the tattoos along his left arm and shoulder were slowly expanding onto his chest, each one a symbol of his family or the victories he had won.
"You are familiar to me, Rubiah. Yet I feel I would remember if we had been introduced." Delicate fingers plucked another grape from the bunch and as she offered it to him, he knew exactly who he desired to bring into his bed that night. Mayet would scold no doubt, and play cold at him for a few days, but she was used enough to his occasional use of others that he could win her back without trouble. After all, he had given her all that he could for the time being, one night without him would not go amiss.
Taking her wrist as she offered to him, he brought the fruit and her fingers to his lips, teeth scraping gently against her fingertips as he took hold of the grape, the juicy richness bursting across his tongue. He released his hold on her though he did not wish for her to move away just yet, his own gaze still locked with hers as she asked what he bid. His summons had been one of interest that had only grown in the moments they had spent in one another's company, and desire was burning slowly in his chest as she remained close.
"I wish to know more of you. How if such beauty has been close by it has so far escaped my notice, and how you have just now come to be here." This time he took one of the grapes she held, offering it out to her as she had done, the spark of interest well and truly lit. No doubt before the night was past it would be fanned into a flame.
His gaze followed her in the manner she expected it to as she wove her way towards him, lingering on the way the light shone against her skin and the curve of her hips as they swayed in the red material. The bare breast was not shocking, but it was certainly a tantalizing glimpse at what her body offered beneath the drape of the fabric, and his lips twitched in a smile as she halted before him. Watching her lips wrap around the grape before she replied, his dark eyes betrayed a heat that she seemed content to stoke within him though the rest of his expression was mostly impassive.
Rubiah. She was familiar, though he could not place her, not of a noble family perhaps but certainly of class. A merchant's daughter, wealthy enough to place her here, or the companion of one of the finer ladies who had taught her well. He wondered if she had done reconnaissance on him, discovered that he preferred to be simply Osorsen, not Sirdar H'Moghadam. It was not difficult looking him over to see that he himself preferred to buck tradition. His beard and natural hair in place of the mostly hairless or wigged noblemen that filled the party around them, the tattoos along his left arm and shoulder were slowly expanding onto his chest, each one a symbol of his family or the victories he had won.
"You are familiar to me, Rubiah. Yet I feel I would remember if we had been introduced." Delicate fingers plucked another grape from the bunch and as she offered it to him, he knew exactly who he desired to bring into his bed that night. Mayet would scold no doubt, and play cold at him for a few days, but she was used enough to his occasional use of others that he could win her back without trouble. After all, he had given her all that he could for the time being, one night without him would not go amiss.
Taking her wrist as she offered to him, he brought the fruit and her fingers to his lips, teeth scraping gently against her fingertips as he took hold of the grape, the juicy richness bursting across his tongue. He released his hold on her though he did not wish for her to move away just yet, his own gaze still locked with hers as she asked what he bid. His summons had been one of interest that had only grown in the moments they had spent in one another's company, and desire was burning slowly in his chest as she remained close.
"I wish to know more of you. How if such beauty has been close by it has so far escaped my notice, and how you have just now come to be here." This time he took one of the grapes she held, offering it out to her as she had done, the spark of interest well and truly lit. No doubt before the night was past it would be fanned into a flame.
'You are familiar to me, Rubiah. Yet I feel I would remember if we had been introduced.'
"You would." Rubiah held no concerns for her own confidence. This man had already noticed her from across the way, doing as she saw fit. He had already summoned her to stand before him, accepted her lack of formality and her breaks with tradition. It was clear from the heat in his stare that he liked what she was offering, that he was intrigued by the arrogant charisma that she wore like a second skin. There was no harm to her natural attitude shining through. Not with this man.
"I usually take great care to ensure I'm unforgettable." Her smile was slow and seductive.
Rubiah felt Osorsen's gaze on every detail that she offered him. In her walk, in the way she consumed the fruit, in her supplication of letting him wrap his fingers around her wrist. The touch was hot and strong and his fingers were long and powerful. Rubiah felt herself shiver with delight as the man lifted her hand to his lips and took the grape into his mouth. She was careful to ensure that the tips of her fingers brushed against him, that the corner of one of her nails brushed just the slightest of frissons over his lower lip. There was a flash of recognition in both their eyes as they met one another's gaze and Rubiah's tongue reached out to moisten her own lips.
When the lord let her go, Rubiah's hand hovered in the air a moment before she lowered it. A minute form of gameplay that told him she would not act as a puppet on his strings but he her own master, lowering the limb when she wished to.
'I wish to know more of you. How if such beauty has been close by it has so far escaped my notice, and how you have just now come to be here.'
The lord spoke with a deep baritone that drew her like gravity. It rumbled through his chest like thunder. The tension in his frame made it seem rough and gravel-like. But, by the time it reached his lips and was spoken aloud it had been molded by a skilled tongue and tinged with formal education. Still deep, it rolled from his lips like dark honey.
"I'm no secret. Just a traveller" Rubiah assured him, her eyes glancing from his lips to his neck and down across the muscles of his chest. "But perhaps the Gods have kept us thus far apart for their own amusement. Perhaps we should amuse @set with blasphemous rebellion?"
Her words were taunting. For she knew that many of the nobles took their faith seriously. An atheist herself, she cared not for anything that fell upon her, but she wasn't about to turn this male away with her theories of missing Gods. Instead, she would use them to her advantage, a temptation of darker intent.
When the lord Osorsen reached to take a grape from the bunch in her hand, Rubiah was careful to ensure that she did not shy away from his touch. The back of his hand grazed the side of her covered breast and she did nothing to move out of his way. He offered up the morsel, so tiny and dark between his fingertips.
Leaning forwards, Rubiah claimed the grape without the use of her hands. Her lips wrapped around it, her tongue slipping it from his touch. The taste of the fruit was decadent on her tongue. She was sure to suck down in his thumb.
Her eyes flickered across the crowds of the party. Most were immersed in their own conversations and turning to their own partners. But some, the ones that stood close enough to have witnessed her progress across the room now watched them with interest. She smiled up at the Sirdar, her teeth bared and nipping at the pad of his thumb as she pulled away.
"We appear to have an audience." She commented, clearly not caring a moment for the voyeuristic delights of others...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sept 5, 2020 17:42:24 GMT
Posted In Like Gravity on Sept 5, 2020 17:42:24 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
'You are familiar to me, Rubiah. Yet I feel I would remember if we had been introduced.'
"You would." Rubiah held no concerns for her own confidence. This man had already noticed her from across the way, doing as she saw fit. He had already summoned her to stand before him, accepted her lack of formality and her breaks with tradition. It was clear from the heat in his stare that he liked what she was offering, that he was intrigued by the arrogant charisma that she wore like a second skin. There was no harm to her natural attitude shining through. Not with this man.
"I usually take great care to ensure I'm unforgettable." Her smile was slow and seductive.
Rubiah felt Osorsen's gaze on every detail that she offered him. In her walk, in the way she consumed the fruit, in her supplication of letting him wrap his fingers around her wrist. The touch was hot and strong and his fingers were long and powerful. Rubiah felt herself shiver with delight as the man lifted her hand to his lips and took the grape into his mouth. She was careful to ensure that the tips of her fingers brushed against him, that the corner of one of her nails brushed just the slightest of frissons over his lower lip. There was a flash of recognition in both their eyes as they met one another's gaze and Rubiah's tongue reached out to moisten her own lips.
When the lord let her go, Rubiah's hand hovered in the air a moment before she lowered it. A minute form of gameplay that told him she would not act as a puppet on his strings but he her own master, lowering the limb when she wished to.
'I wish to know more of you. How if such beauty has been close by it has so far escaped my notice, and how you have just now come to be here.'
The lord spoke with a deep baritone that drew her like gravity. It rumbled through his chest like thunder. The tension in his frame made it seem rough and gravel-like. But, by the time it reached his lips and was spoken aloud it had been molded by a skilled tongue and tinged with formal education. Still deep, it rolled from his lips like dark honey.
"I'm no secret. Just a traveller" Rubiah assured him, her eyes glancing from his lips to his neck and down across the muscles of his chest. "But perhaps the Gods have kept us thus far apart for their own amusement. Perhaps we should amuse @set with blasphemous rebellion?"
Her words were taunting. For she knew that many of the nobles took their faith seriously. An atheist herself, she cared not for anything that fell upon her, but she wasn't about to turn this male away with her theories of missing Gods. Instead, she would use them to her advantage, a temptation of darker intent.
When the lord Osorsen reached to take a grape from the bunch in her hand, Rubiah was careful to ensure that she did not shy away from his touch. The back of his hand grazed the side of her covered breast and she did nothing to move out of his way. He offered up the morsel, so tiny and dark between his fingertips.
Leaning forwards, Rubiah claimed the grape without the use of her hands. Her lips wrapped around it, her tongue slipping it from his touch. The taste of the fruit was decadent on her tongue. She was sure to suck down in his thumb.
Her eyes flickered across the crowds of the party. Most were immersed in their own conversations and turning to their own partners. But some, the ones that stood close enough to have witnessed her progress across the room now watched them with interest. She smiled up at the Sirdar, her teeth bared and nipping at the pad of his thumb as she pulled away.
"We appear to have an audience." She commented, clearly not caring a moment for the voyeuristic delights of others...
'You are familiar to me, Rubiah. Yet I feel I would remember if we had been introduced.'
"You would." Rubiah held no concerns for her own confidence. This man had already noticed her from across the way, doing as she saw fit. He had already summoned her to stand before him, accepted her lack of formality and her breaks with tradition. It was clear from the heat in his stare that he liked what she was offering, that he was intrigued by the arrogant charisma that she wore like a second skin. There was no harm to her natural attitude shining through. Not with this man.
"I usually take great care to ensure I'm unforgettable." Her smile was slow and seductive.
Rubiah felt Osorsen's gaze on every detail that she offered him. In her walk, in the way she consumed the fruit, in her supplication of letting him wrap his fingers around her wrist. The touch was hot and strong and his fingers were long and powerful. Rubiah felt herself shiver with delight as the man lifted her hand to his lips and took the grape into his mouth. She was careful to ensure that the tips of her fingers brushed against him, that the corner of one of her nails brushed just the slightest of frissons over his lower lip. There was a flash of recognition in both their eyes as they met one another's gaze and Rubiah's tongue reached out to moisten her own lips.
When the lord let her go, Rubiah's hand hovered in the air a moment before she lowered it. A minute form of gameplay that told him she would not act as a puppet on his strings but he her own master, lowering the limb when she wished to.
'I wish to know more of you. How if such beauty has been close by it has so far escaped my notice, and how you have just now come to be here.'
The lord spoke with a deep baritone that drew her like gravity. It rumbled through his chest like thunder. The tension in his frame made it seem rough and gravel-like. But, by the time it reached his lips and was spoken aloud it had been molded by a skilled tongue and tinged with formal education. Still deep, it rolled from his lips like dark honey.
"I'm no secret. Just a traveller" Rubiah assured him, her eyes glancing from his lips to his neck and down across the muscles of his chest. "But perhaps the Gods have kept us thus far apart for their own amusement. Perhaps we should amuse @set with blasphemous rebellion?"
Her words were taunting. For she knew that many of the nobles took their faith seriously. An atheist herself, she cared not for anything that fell upon her, but she wasn't about to turn this male away with her theories of missing Gods. Instead, she would use them to her advantage, a temptation of darker intent.
When the lord Osorsen reached to take a grape from the bunch in her hand, Rubiah was careful to ensure that she did not shy away from his touch. The back of his hand grazed the side of her covered breast and she did nothing to move out of his way. He offered up the morsel, so tiny and dark between his fingertips.
Leaning forwards, Rubiah claimed the grape without the use of her hands. Her lips wrapped around it, her tongue slipping it from his touch. The taste of the fruit was decadent on her tongue. She was sure to suck down in his thumb.
Her eyes flickered across the crowds of the party. Most were immersed in their own conversations and turning to their own partners. But some, the ones that stood close enough to have witnessed her progress across the room now watched them with interest. She smiled up at the Sirdar, her teeth bared and nipping at the pad of his thumb as she pulled away.
"We appear to have an audience." She commented, clearly not caring a moment for the voyeuristic delights of others...