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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Aug 13, 2014 17:01:46 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers clearly relished in his current activities, and as Keretheriel yielded more to his touch, that touch intensified in both pressure and frequency, responding to her motions and muscular contractions with focused attention. The woman’s moans clearly seemed to spur him on, and the Arc displayed no care as to anything else in the world outside her enjoyment. That is, until another voice cut in above the moans.
Viers had to admit that he had been caught off-guard by the newcomer’s arrival. He mentally kicked himself for it, however, because he should have been more wary, especially since there had always been the looming possibility of Floraelia herself coming back to the apartment while he was entertaining Kereth. The Arc realized, too late, that he didn’t even have a legitimate escape plan, let alone enough awareness to have defended himself were the intruder in his private time intent on attacking him: luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case, but once again, Viers was forced to internally berate his impulsive nature and its propensity to get him into compromising situations.
The Arc more or less gave up on what he was doing as soon as the first syllable left their new guest’s mouth, and had slid himself back off the bed enough to rise and turn to face her in the time it took for her to finish her second sentence. Viers stared down the diminutive, military-garbed Dorya with one eyebrow raised, perfectly sculpting his face into an expression that conveyed the questions who the fuck are you? without the need for him to actually speak the words. Wiping his lips on the back of his right forearm, Viers let his energy cycle down, forcing the intoxicating release that had been taking place, which had been amplified by the phase shift of his own spiritual essence, to dampen considerably, effectively dimming the energetic output of the room to only what Kereth herself was putting off. Luckily, the woman’s introduction had already answered his first and most pressing question: no, she wasn’t sent by Floraelia to bust him for getting down in her bed with someone else. Now it was just a matter of mitigating the damage of the situation.
Without actually taking his eyes off the cross-armed Dorya, Viers spoke to Keretheriel, possibly still on the bed behind him. “Friend of yours?”
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Post by Keretheriel on Aug 15, 2014 22:09:15 GMT -5
Her upper body rippled in erotic tension, lifting the entirety of her ribcage cleanly off the sheets; her fingers spread wide, clutching silk as every muscle above her hips flexed. When the curves of her hips rolled against him both shoulders touched down, slipping in the mess of lengthy blue-black hair beneath them. The Siren didn't notice the breach their little oasis suffered. She didn't hear any throat clearing or her name. What really registered was the mention of the Magistrate and that Viers had withdrawn.
A long, steady exhale compressed the smooth expanse of the Siren's stomach as jet lashes rose slowly to reveal irises that were on fire.
Prone was a word that had a certain implication of vulnerability, of weakness. The woman lying on the bed that belonged to the Magistrate's daughter, with her hands tangled in silk and her thighs parted for the touch of another was not prone. She was exposed, but never vulnerable. Those black-cherry lips pressed together as her body rose to be supported by bent elbows; her chin lowered, allowing the intensity of her stare to level on first her would-be lover and then on to the interloper.
”If she were a friend of mine, she'd not be interrupting. . .”
Those preternaturally pale eyes scoured the other woman's form as if the force of her gaze alone could strip every stitch of clothing from her diminutive form.
”And you are?”
The Siren was a veritable hurricane of raw energy, especially now that Viers had gone quiet.
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Aug 16, 2014 22:26:18 GMT -5
Dorya’s expression was every bit as blank and stony as her energetic profile – to the swirling maelstrom of energy and indignation in the room, the Operative was an immovable formation, held fast in the ground against a torrential current. Of course, on the emotional side of things, the Variance had to admit that she had the high ground, so remaining within the boundaries of her cryptic stoicism would have been far easier even than it normally was, if not for the immense amount of humor that could be found in the situation threatening to crack her outer shell with a laugh. Dorya kept any expression telling of her amused enjoyment at the situation under wraps much in the same way the tingling sensation of fire in her blood caused by her position of remained unfelt – by looking bored.
The Variance let a slow glance of her dark eyes slide over both of them while they expressed their bewildered outrage while simultaneously trying to retain their dignity by shamelessly flaunting their nude states. They had reason to flaunt, certainly, and Dorya’s appraising glances acknowledged that, but the Operative didn’t take much time to admire – her mission here predicated on a swift retrieval of Keretheriel, especially considering that others could have been attracted to the energetic explosions the pair’s lovemaking had elicited.
The Operative resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she answered, her surprisingly-pleasing, accented voice breathy, as if she were already frustrated.
“Dorya. Consider me an escort: one who is here to ensure you get to your very urgent meeting with Magistrate Virianus safely. And quickly.”
Had she mentioned they were on a timetable?
Dorya’s arms uncrossed as she took another step forward, flexing her fingers as she eyed the Siren’s male counterpart.
“I don’t need you. Nor do I care why you are here, but since I am confident someone at the Tower would be interested to know what you were doing, and importantly, where you were while doing it, if you want me to forget I saw you, abs and all, then keep out of my way.”
Dorya didn’t know who the man was or why he was in Floraelia’s apartment, but she was confident that the Magistrate would be eager to find out, were she to mention what she walked in on. To keep himself out of trouble, the man would be best served by following the Operative’s instructions. Dorya took another step toward the bed and the naked woman atop it, extending her gloved hand carefully from her spot right beside Viers. The Variance tipped her chin downward and hinted at a smile.
“It’s generally not a good idea to keep Alpha waiting. Why don’t you cover up, and we’ll be on our way.”
The Variance couldn’t say she was relishing this particular assignment, running a simple errand for the Magistrate, but at least she’d been given a unique position of power and a bit of eye candy for her trouble.
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Aug 17, 2014 9:54:03 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers found himself weighing the various, convoluted elements of his situation carefully, if very rapidly, as the interloping female spoke. Here he was, in Floraelia’s bedroom, atop a woman who is either in some collusion with or being targeted by Alpha, the exact person whose notice the Arc had been intent on escaping, with an agent of Alpha in the mix as well who may or may not have been lying about her level of interest towards his presence in the apartment. The situation had far too many variables which were unknown: would Dorya identify him to the tower, or worse, tell Floraelia how he had been found? Was Kereth actually more interlaced in the workings of the Tower than she had let on? The second seemed less likely: the Siren was a good actor, but she was off her game enough due to the intoxication of Viers’ blood that she would be hard pressed to be only acting so genuine about her confusion. What was more likely is that, as she hinted, she was something of a target for he Tower, which didn’t bode well, but was ultimately her problem, and not a sword Viers was prepared to jump in front of for her sake at the expense of his.
That left Dorya as the most pressing unknown variable, especially considering that the woman appeared to be a metaphysical dead spot, much like Viers himself at the moment. Not only was it unclear who the woman really was, but the question of what was also up in the air. As for her intentions to forget she ever saw him, Viers didn’t take her words to heart for a second, but that level of intense skepticism wouldn’t have a lot to do with his reaction to the situation: she had him at a major disadvantage, and whether he took the woman at her word or not, Viers didn’t have much choice but to play along like he did. The only real other option was to attack her, and while he and Kereth could undoubtedly best the woman and escape, she might be able to keep them busy long enough for reinforcements from the Tower to arrive, and that would complicate the situation even further.
The Arc bent down and snagged his coat from where it had fallen near the bed, taking a step away from Kereth and the bed just as Dorya stepped forward. Settling the coat over his shoulders and crossing his arms, Viers gave Keretheriel a wry, sidelong glance. “Don’t worry. We can pick back up another time.”
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Post by Keretheriel on Aug 18, 2014 14:26:18 GMT -5
The Siren's expression was an unfaltering mix of imperial neutrality and predatory impulse. This woman, this self-proclaimed escort had so casually inserted herself into a space Keretheriel had made hers― if only temporarily― and not only had she managed to separate Viers from her but now she had the audacity to give her some thinly-veiled demand that she relocate elsewhere, where not mattering right this minute. Were she in a less altered state of mind Keretheriel might be willing to agree that perhaps it wasn't the most tactically sound course of action to climb into bed with Viers― the both of them presenting a considerable target to the Tower― and not just any bed: probably the most potentially compromised bed in terms of security for trespassers in the whole of the Trade City barring Alpha's own.
The bend of her knees drew together fluidly when Viers started moving; both elbows straightened so that it was open palms on white sheets supporting her upright position. The stare that tracked his motion to retrieve his coat was arctic, and not solely in color. Oh, she wouldn't blame him later for acting in his own self-interest: she should have been doing the same. Now? It's not as if she expected him to defend her or anything nonsensical like that, but his very clear nonchalance in light of the escort's interference was more than mildly irritating.
”I have no meeting with the Magistrate.”
The weight of her gaze didn't leave Viers until he made eye contact with her and her focus redirected to Dorya.
”Though I should have expected the Magistrate could be cross that I sought no audience with him on my arrival in his City.” The Siren watched her Escort intently.
When the other woman approached the bedside, extending a hand toward the Siren, the corners of Keretheriel's mouth curled into a smirk. Could she persuade the Magistrate's courier to join them? Surely the imagery of their bodies tangled together― the contrast of their sun-darkened flesh against her own fair tones on a backdrop of pure snow― held some appeal even for the stoic herald of the Tower. ”Now, I don't suppose that you would know the mind of your Master past his desire for a timely 'meeting,' am I correct? I'll be direct: I'm not really inclined to attend. At least, not right now. ” A finely-shaped brow rose in a smooth arc for emphasis before those pale eyes rolled over to Viers, offering him a once-over before returning to Dorya in a 'I mean, really? You can't see I'm busy' gesture. Keretheriel's lower body slid forward until her feet could drop off the edge of the bed to the floor and support a rise to her full height. Dorya's proffered hand wasn't taken, no, but it also wasn't ignored: if the Escort remained still long enough the tip of the Siren's left index finger would trace a very light path starting between her thumb and forefinger and up through the center of her palm― as up as far as the other woman would let her, really.
”I'm certain there is no real deadline to be met, Dorya,” the thick, honeyed accent enunciated her name slowly, as if she were testing each syllable for taste. ”The Magistrate's temper would not be tested over the loss of one hour. . .”
Keretheriel stared down into those dark eyes as she stepped closer to her, making no effort to resist raising a hand to follow the pathways of the inked markings on her face with her thumb.
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Aug 19, 2014 12:24:18 GMT -5
Though Dorya may have rapidly begun losing patience with the woman she was supposed to bring to Alpha, the Operative’s carefully-constructed exterior didn't betray any of her inner thoughts or feelings. Keretheriel certainly wasn't the first frustrating party Dorya had been made to contend with, and in her current position she certainly would’t be the last. Her companion, at least, seemed to get the memo enough to be preparing to make himself scarce, which was a smart move considering his position and location. In all circumstances, it would undoubtedly be better for his health if he was not known to have broken into the apartment of a Council member, especially one who just happened to be the only daughter of the Magistrate. Withering stare or no, Viers was right to prepare an exit.
When Keretheriel stood up without assistance, Dorya didn’t choose to leave her outstretched hand out in some display of solidarity, and instead clasped it with her left behind her back in a classic military ‘at ease’ position. The Variance stared at Keretheriel as she advanced, looking her right in the eye and not drifting her gaze from the Siren’s for even a second – she wasn’t about to play into Keretheriel’s advances in the slightest, not even by glancing over the woman’s naked body again. She could remember the details well enough without another look anyway. What Dorya did buy into! Apparently. Was the woman’s casual, semi-flirtatious manner, undoubtedly in an effort to ease the difficulty of persuading her. Smiling somewhat sardonically, the Operative patiently spoke to the Siren as the woman stood before her.
“The Magistrate certainly did not seem ‘cross’ when he asked me to bring you back to the Tower, but he did stress the importance of your meeting to me quite clearly. I am to make sure no harm comes to you inside the city, and the Magistrate asked me to relay to you that, once your meeting with him is over you will be guaranteed safe passage out of the city if you wish to leave. That alone is an unusual offer, I’m sure you realize, but if the Magistrate’s set timeline is not followed, I’m not certain the offer won’t be withdrawn, so I would urge you to accept it.”
If the Siren decided to try and touch Dorya, tracing the markings on her face (since her arms were covered by her jacket), the Operative wouldn’t attempt to stop her, or otherwise seem to pay it any mind. Dorya was sure that Alpha had chosen her to bring in Keretheriel for a specific reason, and the woman’s behavior indicated that a less structured personality would have struggled not to be distracted from their mission. Dorya, however, had much more ambitious desires than bedding the attractive target of her mission, and therefore stayed unflinchingly on-task, despite Keretheriel’s advances.
“Additionally, I have to insist that we move to the Tower as soon as possible: your little energy display made you both extremely easy for me to find, and that means others, those who might wish you harm, will undoubtedly be able to find this place also. In the interest of keeping you safe, relocating someplace safer would be a great idea. Once there, I am sure I can make sure any needs you have are met before your meeting with the Magistrate.”
Dorya’s gaze would follow Keretheriel’s wherever the woman went throughout the room, keeping a pointed lock to accentuate her words, especially the last sentence.
“I have been instructed to give you any considerations you require, within the parameters of my assignment, and I would be happy to ensure you are well accommodated, as long as your safety is assured first.”
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Sept 24, 2014 14:20:26 GMT -5
Your little energy display made you both extremely easy for me to find.
There it was. Rosencrance Viers had spent the time since Dorya’s arrival with an unsettling, nagging, hidden thought scratching at the back of his consciousness like an alleycat looking for milk, reminding him that there was something incredibly important about this situation that he was not taking into account. This kind of thing happened to him a lot, and over time the Arc had learned to trust that the spine-tingling sensation of wrong was a warning from his animal instincts that danger was afoot. Viers had always possessed finely-tuned reflexes- it was when it came to complex reasoning that the man overwhelmingly lacked the ability to force his plans all the way through to their conclusion, a fact that had relegated him to act (more often than not) as a follower, rather than a leader. Sure, the Arc could plan, like any man with half a mind could, but he could only manage it in teeny-tiny increments – and when he did plan, the situation that was relevant to said plan inevitably changed so drastically from his expectations he might as well not have bothered and just jumped in wholesale. Therefore, over time Viers had found that it benefited him greatly to rely more and more on these feelings of unsettling nervousness, because clearly his instinctual abilities were much more developed than his inductive and deductive reasoning skills.
In this moment, with the situation train so far off the proverbial tracks it would be more reminiscent of a projectile weapon than a mode of transportation, that scratching awareness at the back of Viers’ mind had raised in volume and intensity from a meow to a roar, and it was Dorya’s explanation of just why they should vacate the premises that made the everything snap into focus.
He’s coming.
Regardless of the fact that Viers had been halfheartedly searching for his old boss, the idea of the Mage making a grand entrance while his Arc was here, in this situation, was more than enough to freeze Viers’ blood for a matter of seconds. Never-mind that having Achréiøs anywhere near Kereth would be an unmitigated disaster for all parties involved (except Achréiøs, of course), the crux of Viers’ continued ability to determine his own destiny hinged on his meeting the Mage intentionally, in different circumstances and on his own terms, not the other way around.
Internally, Viers had officially started to panic.
The fact that these thoughts all snapped into focus at once caused the Arc to suddenly clench himself up into a vault-like, locked-down energetic state, and as he did the room would feel suddenly, sharply colder, as though arctic draft had blown through it and dropped the ambient temperature ten degrees. While Dorya and Kereth were still talking, Viers slipped himself out of the room rapidly, settling his jacket atop his shoulders at the same time. The Arc would make a direct beeline for his bedroom if unmolested by the two women currently playing flirt-chicken with each other and carefully retrieve the wrapped parcel of his artifact weapon before he made a dash for the elevator.
Viers was certain that Keretheriel would be none to happy at his sudden abandonment of her, especially considering that he was leaving her naked with a complete stranger who just happened to be in the employ of the sociopathic city Magistrate/dark overlord. In a way, Viers’ action was a vote of confidence as to Kereth’s ability to take care of herself, though the man doubted that the Siren would choose to look at it that way. When the danger of sudden Mage-apparition was past, the Arc would seek to locate the other party of his newfound-yet-not-quite-consummated partnership: but for now, even though she didn’t know it, he was going to save her life from a much, much more frightening creature than the Magistrate could ever hope to conjure and send after her.
And to think: she’d never know how heroic he was being.
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Post by Keretheriel on Oct 5, 2014 21:28:00 GMT -5
”Mm.”
Dorya certainly had an awful lot to say and most of it proved to be useful. That the Magistrate seemed so keen on meeting her and had directed his courier to be mindful of the condition she was brought to him spoke volumes─ not that Keretheriel could necessarily interpret what it meant to the nth degree, but it was something to dwell on nonetheless.
As it was, the Siren was far more interested in pushing the boundaries between herself and Alpha's messenger girl. The pad of the former Guardian's thumb rested against the rise of the other woman's cheekbone for a moment before gliding over her flesh with a whisper-soft touch to follow the glyph-like markings that spread down her face and disappeared into her collar. Her lips parted as the force of her gaze lowered, perhaps betraying the Siren's suspicions that the inked pathways blanketed her entire body. At the sound of Viers quickly─ and silently─ vacating the master room, Keretheriel's hand dropped away from Dorya and the weight of that preternatural stare fell to where he was supposed to be. The temperature drop was noted and dismissed as the Siren turned away from Dorya and followed in his wake─ her smooth strides far less hurried.
It would be impossible to miss, however, that─ as the Siren's nude form shifted in direction─ there was a distinct ripple that started from the topmost swell of her breasts and cascaded like liquid down the length of her body. It was pretty to watch, if nothing else, but also served its function: the formless fluid-like fluctuation settled against her fair skin like a film before it began to gather a bit more substance and reflect a shade of pale lavender. By the time she reached the door, a very fitted, lightly constructed bodice had already given her wayward curves something to strain against atop flowing skirts that trailed behind her in a short train. The arm that pushed against the door purposefully slid through translucent, silky fabric of the same pastel violet hue that draped pleasantly off-the-shoulder. Her newly-manifested attire wasn't winter-ready by any means, but it was certainly in a much more cheerful color than her previous garments. The fingers of her right hand brushed against the full pout of her lips─ lips that had been darkest cherry and had somehow faded to a more natural wash of color ─ and those uncanny eyes fixated on Viers as she caught up with him before the elevator reached their floor.
Without a word the Siren moved to face the Arc and, unless he forcefully stopped her, she'd quickly, but gently, grip the solid lines of his neck with both hands and press a kiss to his mouth, withdrawing only to murmur, ”Until we meet again,” as she leaned into him, their noses touching briefly. The scent of warmed vanilla and spice grew exponentially strong then and Keretheriel retreated, holding his stare evenly if he hadn't pushed her away, her hands lightly moving down either side of his throat and releasing him from her grasp. . .
She'd not stop him from maneuvering around her when the lift doors glided open behind her. In fact, she expected that Alpha's darling messenger girl would be on her heels, impatient to complete her given task. . .
”Shall we, then?”
The smirk of the Siren spread attractively across her features.
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Oct 6, 2014 21:10:14 GMT -5
Dorya reacted to Keretheriel’s sensual touch with all the excitement of a child tolerating a grandmother’s doting pinches. Briefly, the Variance wondered to herself if her assignment would figure out that her suggestive manner was ineffective and give it a rest, but she quickly came to the conclusion, based on the woman’s other behavior, that the ineffectual nature of her advances would only make her try that much harder. Dorya, however, was a stone slab when it came to readability, and her preternatural patience would make her stony exterior and almost insurmountable obstacle for Kereth. Still, there could be some hope reserved that the woman would get the hint; the Variance wasn’t about to hold her breath for it though.
The woman’s sudden departure caused the Variance to quirk and eyebrow and spin on her heel to stalk after her. Clearly the Siren had decided to go after her male compatriot, who decided to stealthily make his way toward the exit. Somehow, Dorya didn’t blame the man – Kereth seemed to be more than a handful, and while her physical form was undoubtedly highly appealing, the amount of frustration it seemed to contain almost made it not worth it. The woman was exactly Alpha’s type to want around, the Variance mused as she followed Kereth to her quick rendezvous at the elevator, staying a handful of steps behind to watch: the woman was a meddler of the highest degree, and Alpha’s council seemed to be a collection of exactly that sort of individual, though they all came in varying shapes and degrees of infuriation Dorya let the two lovebirds wrap up their goodbye, crossing her arms and somewhat-impatiently observing the interaction. The Variance couldn’t be sure she understood the significance of what had just occurred – Kereth let double meanings infiltrate her speech readily, and that fact made it difficult for her actions to be easily taken at face value. However, her interactions with the male were of very little concern to the Operative so long as Kereth deemed it worth her time to go along with Dorya’s mission, so all concern as to the woman’s secondary motives was pushed aside when Kereth finally signaled that she was ready to go.
“By all means.”
The lift had already left to carry the man out of the apartment, so Dorya would step to one side of the doors and patiently wait for it to return for them, her hands lacing together behind her back, chest-up in a military-born at-ease pose. The Variance would watch Kereth carefully as the lift returned, and then she would gesture for her guest to enter the contraption first before following and indicating their ground floor destination. With any luck, the ride down would be silent, and they would get off, cross the lobby, and soon enough be able to board the next central-bound train. However, if Dorya had been a betting woman, she would have laid down a month’s salary that silence was not a thing that would ever be allowed in Keretheriel’s company . . .
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Oct 14, 2014 21:12:39 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers pressed his fingers to his lips thoughtfully as the lift carried him down toward the building’s lobby. The Siren’s reaction hadn’t quite been what he had expected – earlier, after the Magistrate’s errand girl had first arrived, Keretheriel had seemed altogether dejected at the fact that Viers hadn’t fought for them to be able to finish their private time. She had been annoyed; a feeling that Viers anticipated would amplify at his sudden bolting out of the apartment. Yet, Kereth had acted almost lovingly as he had stepped on the elevator, and the sudden disappearance of the woman’s annoyance at his actions put the man more than a little on edge. What may have seemed a heart-felt goodbye did not feel all too different from a threat as far as the Arc was concerned – she did plan to find him, a promise which betrayed that Kereth didn’t wholly believe that he would try to find her when the coast was clear, an action he wholeheartedly planned on taking. What would happen when the woman did find him was anyone’s guess, however: the ominousness of her promise had left it to interpretation whether she wished to pick up where they had left off or exact vengeance upon Viers for the fact that the Siren didn’t agree with his behavior. The Arc couldn’t begin to predict which outcome awaited him with any degree of certainty, so as the lift doors opened at the ground floor he chose to put it out of his mind, shifting his focus to the task at hand: escape.
Viers walked quickly through the lobby, nodding to the desk-man as he stepped out the door and onto the twilight streets, quickly taking stock before picking a direction. The Eight District, with its industrial infrastructure and layered housing, was not too far if he took a quick train-ride among the masses: the energetic density of the district would be an ideal place for Viers to hide until he could return for Floraelia at a later time. The nighttime crowd was just beginning to form on the boulevard, and Viers walked quickly to merge into the mass of people moving in an orderly way towards the nearest train boarding point. He allowed his body to be swept into the sea of movement, being careful to keep his Arcanum stilled and silent as he did so. He would make his way to the train, and from there, moving as any other denizen of Vascxious Sigma, he would disembark in the Eighth District and find a suitable place to lay low. He had enough coin to rent a room, if necessary, though he hoped not to be there long.
Viers looked to the misty, darkening sky as the streetlamps began to flicker to life, wondering if he-from-whom-he-was-running would swoop down on Floraelia’s apartment at any moment. With any luck, Viers had disappeared his own energy before the Mage could pinpoint him – if so Achréiøs might decide it wasn’t worth it to come after him. It was a comforting thought, but the Arc banished it from his mind immediately – it wasn’t like the Mage to so easily give up. The Arc’s best hope of escaping intact was to blend into the sea of people around him and disappear. He tucked his packaged blade into the folds of his coat and tried to do just that, slowly moving along toward the stairs that led to the elevated train platform some three blocks down. Hopefully, Keretheriel would take his departure at face value and realize that she herself should leave as well – Viers would hate to imagine the scene, were she still in that apartment when the Mage arrived . . .
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Post by Keretheriel on Oct 19, 2014 22:14:39 GMT -5
To be fair, the Siren didn't actually wait for a response from Alpha's messenger girl: the smirk continued to pleasantly soften her features as she turned toward the end of the hallway, stepping back out into the open floorplan and moving very directly toward the white furniture nestled near that stunning view of the City. The jet-colored fur-lined cloak she'd so casually left strewn over the arm of a chaise was retrieved: the moment her slender hand grasped the fine material the dark color bled away from her grip only to be replaced by the same lavender hue as her dress. The fur trim took on a sheen of starlight as onyx became quicksilver─ certainly it was a less jarring contrast than the sultry color scheme she'd walked into the penthouse wearing. It wasn't too much longer before Keretheriel returned to the hallway and paused, having caught a glimpse of her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung where the corridor opened up to the rest of the apartment. The heavy cloak was made to settle on top of the convenient side table as the Siren studied her reflection and completely ignored her Escort for a long moment.
The pastel violet of the dress made her eyes appear very steel-like in color though the burning quality to them had not been subdued at all. The fit of the gown was divine─ of course─ but required her critical eye. The Siren leaned slightly forward, as if checking the structural integrity of the bodice's somewhat modest neckline. The index finger of one hand tapped the center of her lower lip as her focus shifted to her sleeves: the same hand moved to the opposite arm and pushed the unattached─ had it always been unattached?─ sleeve and its fine, frothy material further down on her arm until it rested just above the crook of her elbow. A quick evaluation later and the same was repeated on the other arm. Keretheriel turned to the side, examining how exposing the full line of her shoulder and upper arm changed the silhouette. She must have been satisfied with the alteration because she turned to the side, watching how her pin-straight, blue-black locks fell against the completely open back and created an alluring juxtaposition to fair skin. Those pale eyes stared for a second before both hands reached into the thick mess of hair, her body turning so that she faced the mirror more directly, and either hand pulled the silky fibers forward and down over her shoulders to drape against her front. Somehow as she's pulling those lengthy tresses away from her back they're becoming much longer: whereas at first the sleek ends of her hair barely brushed past the curve of her mid-back, now they were falling in heavy waves that drew closer to the tops of her thighs. The smirk deepened before the Siren shook all that hair free and allowed it to fall where it would─ the bulk of it curling down to her backside while some slightly shorter pieces settled attractively down over the swell of her breasts. If Dorya was becoming more impatient Keretheriel silently ignored her: the Siren was going to be in audience with the Magistrate of Vascxious Sigma. She wanted to make absolutely certain that she was presentable.
When she was entirely satisfied Keretheriel gathered her traveling cloak and moved to rejoin her stoic little Escort, flashing her a knowing smile that couldn't be mistaken for anything but the smug, completely self-aware expression it was, before she stepped into the waiting lift. There was a marked pause before the Siren turned to face the door and, presumably, Dorya. . .
{End Scene}
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