Logs:Seducing Unwary Sailors With Feminine Wiles
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| RL Date: 21 February, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A laundress and a sailor try to escape from the goldflight outside. |
| Where: Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Blizzard-y. |
| Mentions: Itsy/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: NSFW, kthnx. |
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---< Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr(#2203RJ) >-------------------------------<
A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a
refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework
captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the
day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the
dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and
various flora.
Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an
assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike.
Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting
in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving
is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the
softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst
the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this
a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.
Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small
hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with
cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for
irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans
and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting
materials tucked underneath.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Drex M 17 6'2 muscled, black hair, brown eyes 2s
Farideh F 19 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Complex The cloying humidity filling the greenhouse is a welcome respite from the combination of raging blizzard and dragon flight outside its temporary sanctuary. It's in the enveloping warmth and amongst the headily-fragranced vines that Farideh's sought solace. She's sitting on one of the wooden benches dispersed in the space, cross-legged with her hair all messy around her face and her arms full of clinging, purring kitten - well, she's not really much of a little kitten anymore. For the time of day and what's going on high above, there's not a single gardener in sight, and that suits the laundress just fine; more solitude for her. Drex has been scarce about the Weyr for some time, spending more and more time in his room, or somewhere else more obscure. The mood about the Weyr today has spurred him to action; no one's really explained how this whole thing works (or, more likely, he hasn't asked), and it's with an obvious agitation that he comes clumping into the greenhouse. There's a dusting of snow even from the short walk across the bowl, and he stops in the entrance while snow melts around him under the heat of the greenhouse, pulling out the bottle snatched from those provided in the living cavern to inspect it closely. With a grunt of satisfaction, he heads down the line of greenery, unknowingly in Farideh's direction. Because cats know, it's with a little struggle that Lady Annoying extricates herself from Farideh's arms, amid indignant sounds from the brunette. She jumps down and pads towards Drex hopefully, trying to twine about his legs with a precious mewl. That leaves her part-time owner to chase after her much more noisily, ducking under a hanging plant in her efforts. "Where are you going? It's cold out there," Farideh tries explaining, like the feline can definitely understand what she means. "You're going to--" her breath catches and she straightens from the slightly-bent over position she was chasing the cat in, and stares apprehensively at Drex. Nevermore has Drex been so happy to be almost tripped up, as happens when the cat twines around his legs. Bending, the sailor scoops her up in one hand, cradling her against him. "Lady Annoying! You won't be all grouchy and weird and girly at me, will you?" With a cute cat in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, at any other time Drex might represent a welcome sight. Except that, when Farideh's words draw his puzzled gaze, the sailor scowls, abruptly. "You." Glare. "What are you doing here?" That Drex clutches the feline so familiarly causes Farideh to glare right back at him. "Yes, it's me. There's nothing on the door that said Keep Out, and you don't own it," lifting her chin stubbornly in challenge to his words. "It's warm and there was no one here." But now he is and being that Lady Annoying clearly favors him over her, her irritation is not going to be ebbing anytime soon, it would seem. Wine or no. "What are you doing here? Isn't there a closet you could be claiming, somewhere?" She crosses her arms over her chest, lowering her chin just thus, to keep that menacing glower on him. "How do you know I don't?" Own it, that is. Drex buries his face into the cat's fur, totally not to rub in the fact that the kitten's purring happily, no. With a shrug, "Moved on from closets. What's got you in such a mood? Shouldn't you be... I don't know... seducing unwary sailors with your feminine wiles and promises of pretty gather dresses?" He doesn't mean himself of course, but neither does he clarify that fact. "Your crap would be all over," Farideh snaps at him. "You're not very subtle about it." He's struck a cord, or maybe it's that crackling tension in the air. She stares back at him blankly, her eyes barely narrowed and her lips tightly compressed while he speaks. "Seducing unwary sailors and promising them gather dresses? What are you going on about? I never promised you anything, least of all a dress. You don't have the calves for them," snootily. "It is," Drex snaps back, before he flusters and his mouth presses into a thin line. The cat struggles in his arm, and he bends to release her, before straightening fully, frowning again at Farideh. "Not me, you dumbass. I suppose you think Itsy all of a sudden just decided she likes pretty dresses and braids and gathers, and girls?" By the time he reaches the end of the list it's practically shouted, face flushed beneath dusky skin, radiating jealousy. Since they're having a shouting match, "You're the dumbass. You didn't even know that your best friend is a fucking lesbian. I would know if my best friend was a lesbian." Instead of the cute kind of angry she usually gets, Farideh looks genuinely pissed, having to keep her mouth compressed lest she simply screams. "I didn't have anything to do with it. It's not like I like girls, you-- you idiot." "Shut up," Drex retorts angrily with a stabbing of finger in her general direction to emphasize the point, "It's your fault, looking all pretty and being all... you. She wants you, and she always gets what she wants. Always." The noise that escapes him is a mixture of frustration and jealousy, and he has to take a few goes at trying to open the bottle, blinking quickly. Finally, the pop of liquidy reward is granted, and he gulps down several mouthfuls, some of it spilling messily over his chin. An irate sound leaves her trembling lips - not to be mistaken for trepidation, only anger - when he accuses her, again. "What am I supposed to do? Hide when she comes around? Put a box over my head?" Farideh's eyes fairly snap with her ire, and she takes one threatening step forward, which is eventually followed by a couple more. "You two. Both of you. I'm not a possession you can just claim, I'm a person with feelings too," as she moves to close the gap. Her hand reaches up to try and steal the bottle of wine from him, though that means she's got to use her tippy-toes for tat extra leverage. "Idiots." Drex's eyes narrow as she steps forward. "Just stop being so--" he makes a noise, as if unable to figure out how quite to express the sentiment. He holds the bottle up, out of her reach -- which probably isn't that hard -- while his other hand grabs for her arm to try and stop her. He's staring at her, all weirdly (and maybe even a bit creepily) for a moment, before he leans forward abruptly to kiss her. Slim fingers reach up for the bottle, not quite brushing the bottom, and Farideh unintentionally settles one hand on Drex's arm in reflex to keep herself from tipping over. "Stop being so what?" she demands, shifting her focus from the wine to his face. His stare gets a perturbed one in return, her brows furrowing. Certainly, she's not expecting the kiss, and that's why her eyes widen in surprise. It's mere seconds before that initial resistance melts away and she leans in of her own accord. Ok, so... now he's here and she's here and they are kissing, and... well. There's a relative inexperience in the way Drex kisses her, but it's not hard to figure out that dropping the bottle and wrapping his other arm around her to pull her closer is quite nice indeed. And not that much harder to figure out that fingers wandering up under her shirt is also quite nice. That flush is still lingering in his face, but it's less frustration and more a sudden need, only tempered by the awkwardness of inexperience. Any deficiencies that Farideh should find in the way Drex handles her or how he kisses don't get voiced in the present, because there's much better to do with her lips just now. She winds her slender arms around his neck and presses her body eagerly against his, lips insistent in that same needy way, both gently pressed and sweetly inviting. The longer she kisses him (rather than him kissing her), the bolder Drex seems to get; he's kind of tugging at her clothes a little, like he wants to get them off but doesn't really know how, so it's this awkward little tug while he continues to kiss her. The tugging gets to be old after a while, and it's Farideh who breaks the kiss with a fluttery type of sigh, her cheeks flushed. Her arms untwine and her hands make a path down his chest, before pushing lightly, at the same time she takes a couple steps backwards. She drags the hem of her shirt up and over her head, then simply drops it at her feet. It's in this half-naked state that she stares at him, with heated gaze and reddened cheeks, waiting for-- an unspoken something. Drex kind of... freezes, and stares. It's kind of like that time she asked him to kiss her. Except this time, he's driven by something else, a need, to keep going. He practically trips over himself to follow suit, getting an arm awkwardly caught for a moment, before finally managing to tug his shirt off. And then he's going for his pants, only he has to undo his belt first, and the knives there get in the way, and he's cursing impatiently as he drops first one then the second to the ground. He seems to think she's just waiting for him to take his pants off. Clearly. Farideh presses fingertips to her lips to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble out, though it's there, in her eyes, mixed together with the want. She's watching him fumble with his pants and its accoutrements, but seeing this could take all night, she takes over the task of slipping off her own in an easy movement; she, after all, doesn't have a bunch of knives or even a belt. And then she waits perfectly quietly, stepping out of the puddle of her shed clothing, suddenly having all of the patience in the world. She's laughing at him! That just makes Drex fluster further, growl a "what?" at her, and after he's finally succeeding in kicking off his pants, stride towards her, all impatience in contrast to her patience. He's reaching for her in a quick grab, with the intention of sweeping her off her feet, and if that succeeds, setting her down on top of that puddle of clothing she'd created around her feet. A curt head shake is Farideh's only response, but that doesn't keep the amusement off her face or her lips form curving winsomely. Her sound of protest is definitely fake when he scoops her up, her arms willingly, readily slipping around his shoulders, at least until he sets her down again. "Drex," she sighs, just before her pulls his face to hers for another lingering kiss, her fingers framing his jawline. Drex's grinning at the reaction, and once he's settled her down, he settles in on top of her, elbows bracing him as his lips meet hers again. After a moment, his fingers start to explore, and while there's definitely something inexperienced in the way he does it, that heat that rides across the entire Weyr overrides any hesitations. He doesn't speak, and as long as there's no protestations, eventually he'll get to where he needs to get, even if it takes one or two tries. In the wake of sated lust, Farideh's stretched out like a languid feline underneath Drex, her arms thrown above her head. She's still waiting for her breathing to slow and become less rapid, for her heartbeat to stop beating like it wants to beat right out of her chest. Her dark hair is a tangled mess around her face, but she looks positively content, even if she's staring up at the ceiling rather than at the sailor, even if she's largely silent where moments before she wasn't. Drex's head is bent down into her shoulder, the weight of his body fairly heavy on top of her as he seeks to get his breath. He makes a noise, like he's trying to speak, takes a breath, and finally manages to get out, "That was..." as he pushes up to an elbow and looks at her. She's not looking at him, and so she might sense rather than see the frown that creeps up. "...was that ok?" Farideh's eyes lift to Drex's so close above her. "Of course it was. It was good." It's her turn to frown, but despite the expression, she slides her arms back around his neck affectionately. "Why? You don't think it was?" "I... of course it was," Drex blusters, like it totally wasn't his first time and he has nothing to compare it to but those salty stories heard in gruff sailor tongues. He can't keep looking at her, because that's totally awkward, and so he looks away and... there's their cat, just staring at them. "I... we should, ah," he's shifting his weight to climb off her, pulling free of her arms. That only makes one of them who cares about the cat, per usual. When Drex gets up, Farideh follows, sitting up first and giving her hair a proper tousling, and then using her palms to push herself put onto her feet. There are a few clothing things to put on, and she spends time attending to that, shimmying back into her pants and re-donning her shirt. It's once she's done that she gives the sailor an unsure glance. She even tries to say something, and when nothing comes out, closes her mouth and colors appropriately. Awkward. Drex is getting dressed, too, but he's giving little peeks in her direction as he does so, like he's sneaking looks at her before she puts on all her clothes. Her unsure look makes him unsure, doubly so when she opens her mouth to speak and then say nothing. Stooping to collect his knives, he tucks them back into his belt, before standing there awkwardly a moment, staring down at the bottle which has had most of its contents spilled out. Most, but not all, and that's probably why he bends down to gulp down whatever's left, darting another uncertain look at her before he heads for the exit. Whatever feelings of contentment or affection may have been lingering are dashed unquestionably by his drinking from the bottle. It prompts a horrified look from Farideh, albeit in silence, her open mouth and hiked brows following him out. Once he's gone, good and truly gone, she'll vent and fuss, and probably kick over a few plants, before finding somewhere to mend her injured pride. |
Comments
Edyis (00:09, 24 February 2015 (EST)) said...
Somewhere someone just won a bet. I can't say which one I feel worse for Farideh or Drex.
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