Logs:Happy Twenty-Ninth, N'thei - Revision history

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Satiet at 02:21, 22 September 2011

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Satiet at 21:24, 21 September 2011

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 | what = They don't fight. It's amazing.
 | when = Day 25, Month 11, Turn 18, Interval 10
 | gamedate = 2009.01.31
 | quote = "Please?"

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 It's not hard-- wait. Best start that again. It's not /difficult/ for Satiet to get herself laid. The extra effort is nice and all, and N'thei will look back on this night some day and cling to the image of his woman in her sexy robe, but the poignancy of it won't hit him for a while yet. Right now, no offense to Wyaeth-and-Teonath, he's just a man having hand's down the best sex of his life, with no earthly idea how he got so damn lucky and no will to question it, either. Couch, floor, random pieces of furniture between the outer weyr and the inner weyr, eventually to bed. He's just fucking happy; literally. The L-word never slips out, but the number of breathlessly flattering things he has to say about Satiet kind of makes up for it-- and none of them are as cheesy as 'always liked your eyes,' fyi.
-So she's not good at being nice or complimenting! Sue her. At least she's good at other things. Things that matter more to a man, and the night, without further attempts at niceness, ends on a nice note nonetheless. Couch, floor, random pieces of furniture in between, and eventually the bed; scattered in between are pieces of her carefully pieced together, ridiculous little outfit. It's after they're in bed, spent and perspiring that Satiet curls into N'thei's side, arm slung possessively over his torso and burrows herself. There's still no words, but sometimes you don't need to talk or say the L-word to know that she's spending the night here. All you need is the cadence of slowed breathing and the tacit trust, however brief, placed in N'thei that allows her a moment of vulnerability. And hey, if he or she wakes up in the middle night, why not. He could get another chance to actually be violate-y.{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}
+So she's not good at being nice or complimenting! Sue her. At least she's good at other things. Things that matter more to a man, and the night, without further attempts at niceness, ends on a nice note nonetheless. Couch, floor, random pieces of furniture in between, and eventually the bed; scattered in between are pieces of her carefully pieced together, ridiculous little outfit. It's after they're in bed, spent and perspiring that Satiet curls into N'thei's side, arm slung possessively over his torso and burrows herself. There's still no words, but sometimes you don't need to talk or say the L-word to know that she's spending the night here. All you need is the cadence of slowed breathing and the tacit trust, however brief, placed in N'thei that allows her a moment of vulnerability. And hey, if he or she wakes up in the middle night, why not. He could get another chance to actually be violate-y.
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	So she's not good at being nice or complimenting! Sue her. At least she's good at other things. Things that matter more to a man, and the night, without further attempts at niceness, ends on a nice note nonetheless. Couch, floor, random pieces of furniture in between, and eventually the bed; scattered in between are pieces of her carefully pieced together, ridiculous little outfit. It's after they're in bed, spent and perspiring that Satiet curls into N'thei's side, arm slung possessively over his torso and burrows herself. There's still no words, but sometimes you don't need to talk or say the L-word to know that she's spending the night here. All you need is the cadence of slowed breathing and the tacit trust, however brief, placed in N'thei that allows her a moment of vulnerability. And hey, if he or she wakes up in the middle night, why not. He could get another chance to actually be violate-y.		So she's not good at being nice or complimenting! Sue her. At least she's good at other things. Things that matter more to a man, and the night, without further attempts at niceness, ends on a nice note nonetheless. Couch, floor, random pieces of furniture in between, and eventually the bed; scattered in between are pieces of her carefully pieced together, ridiculous little outfit. It's after they're in bed, spent and perspiring that Satiet curls into N'thei's side, arm slung possessively over his torso and burrows herself. There's still no words, but sometimes you don't need to talk or say the L-word to know that she's spending the night here. All you need is the cadence of slowed breathing and the tacit trust, however brief, placed in N'thei that allows her a moment of vulnerability. And hey, if he or she wakes up in the middle night, why not. He could get another chance to actually be violate-y.
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 | icons = satiet_lust.png, n'thei.jpg
 | log = N'thei's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
 Rank certainly has its privileges; among them are amply appointed apartments. Two chambers connect to form a large weyr, the outer cavern larger and better decorated. Here are impersonal furnishings: a seating arrangement of sofa and chairs in front of a large, tiled fireplace with a blue-and-black rug before it; an antique-looking desk, dinged and dented in a few places but polished and well-kept for its obvious age; a tall cupboard with tack-hooks beside it, gear for dragonriding neatly arranged inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendor for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside.