"I can't deny it any more!" Weft gasped with his jade eyes filled with passion.
"What can't you deny" queried Magdylana twirling her rapier with her citrine eyes danced in amusement.
"I thought I wanted to kill you but this fight was a flimsy pretext to get closer to you" Weft sobbed and threw his dagger down and ran off sobbing.
"Hmph" Magdylana chuckled to herself but then she followed him and sat down next to him.
"I'm living a lie!" Weft whimpered and then he wrapped his arms around his knees and put his chin on them and looked really crestfallen and adorable.
"Why don't you leave your order and be my concubine?" Magdylana suggested suggestively. She ran a hand up and down Weft's leg and she had blood orange nail varnish on her perfect fingernails.
"I can't!" Weft wailed.
"Oh come on, I'll buy you pretty shoes and scarves and clothes and a kitten" Magdylana promised...
"I'm not a slut and I can't be bought, but what sort of clothes are we talking about?" Weft sniffed.
"The finest silks!" Magdylana proclaimed and tossed her chocolatey brown hair as if to say she could do anything she wanted.
Weft thought about it "Well maybe my elders won't notice." he sniffled. "No grabbing my butt or calling me your bitch though" he demanded.
"I'll do my best not to" Magdylana lied.
I haven't got a single thing to add to the above. Muahahahahahahaaa! If the writer is willing I'll post an excerpt from the sequel too.
(3:23:57 PM) Anke: Where is Suitov going to get involved [in the Twine Wars storyline], anyway?
(3:24:20 PM) Mutt: He's with Soprone, but not at the very beginning.
(3:25:46 PM) Anke: Any more plans already, or waiting to see what happens first?
(3:26:03 PM) Mutt: I don't have plans, nope.
(3:26:44 PM) ***Anke is wondering how to get Yrn involved
(3:26:46 PM) Weft: Well, obviously they wait until they're really desperate, then get drunk and drugged off their faces, then fall and hit their heads on a gutter, and THEN hiring him starts to look like a good idea.
(3:27:06 PM) Vespers: but at some point he transitions, willingly or not, from being 'with' someone, to being more of a cult of personality, right?
(3:27:40 PM) Mutt: Cult of personality sounds so... cultish.
(3:28:27 PM) Mutt: Let's just call it a little treason.
(3:28:58 PM) Anke: well, as long as it's just a little
(3:28:21 PM) Vespers: I mean, it's obvious that by the height of the war, Suitov is a power, not the bully-boy of a power. Or it wouldn't be Suitov we're talking about. And you know perfectly well all the best generals' forces were a cult of personality
(3:28:45 PM) Vespers: Napoleon, Wellington, Grant, Lee, Washington...
(3:28:54 PM) Mutt: Right, in that sense.
(3:29:21 PM) Mutt: "Cult" has all kinds of unpleasant associations for me, ha.
(3:30:51 PM) Vespers: Cult of personality =/= traditional 'cult', although traditional cults ARE also cults of personality, generally speaking. and, well, call it hero worship if you like
(3:30:59 PM) Vespers: dunno if you like that better :P
(3:31:27 PM) Suitov: I think I preferred empire of blackest snow.
(3:32:19 PM) Suitov: Or "northern terror", that was a good one.
(3:30:53 PM) Mutt: Where he fits with the rest of Shade, if that's what you're asking, Ves, is as a smaller (or certainly not the biggest... you kinda need land to support being huge) BUT very high-tech power.
(3:32:03 PM) Vespers: so he's a hammer. Not a, well, avalanche like the Flag.
(3:32:59 PM) Suitov: We're a laser rifle.
(3:33:10 PM) Anke: Cute
(3:33:35 PM) Vespers: laser rifles ain't much good against avalanches :P
(3:33:59 PM) Suitov: It's your analogy.
(3:34:20 PM) Vespers: (great mental image. "Stay back! I'm warning you!" *pew pew SCHLOMP*)
(3:34:49 PM) Weft: I've seen him face down an avalanche and I don't remember the *pew pew* bit.
(3:35:35 PM) Vespers: hah, rather
(3:35:37 PM) Anke: VERY cute. <3
(3:36:18 PM) Weft: I remember it as more terrifying and very loud.
(3:36:14 PM) Vespers: Weft's pretty supportive. Sure you haven't gotten him mixed up with vamp-weft?
(3:36:41 PM) Weft: I am NOT suppotrgviiveeveddsafdsfsfsdf *hiss*
(3:37:03 PM) Anke: X)
(3:37:13 PM) Weft: DIE.
(3:37:20 PM) Weft: I'll make you eat your own liver.
(3:37:46 PM) Felix: It'd be tasty. I eat well.
(3:37:57 PM) Anke: meh
(3:38:12 PM) Weft: Yes, eat well, because it shall be your last... well, last liver.
(3:38:18 PM) Vespers: By the way, Weft totally is adorable
(3:38:27 PM) Vespers: he's such a kitty :P
(3:38:55 PM) Weft: DIE IN A MAGICALLY-INDUCED COMA WHERE YOU'RE IN UNSPEAKABLE AGONIES RELIVING EVERY NIGHTMARE YOU EVER
(3:38:55 PM) Suitov: Calm. Down.
(3:38:55 PM) Weft: ...sorrysir
(3:39:43 PM) Vespers: sort of a kitty crossed with a tiny baby puppydog that's totally in love with you [*]
(3:39:33 PM) Anke: The more hissyfits you throw, the less seriously people take them...
(3:39:44 PM) Anke: ... so save them up.
(3:40:20 PM) Weft: I have like a year's supply in my shoulder muscles alone.
(3:41:03 PM) Anke: Sounds like you could do with a massage
(3:41:42 PM) Weft: Sounds like anyone attempting it wouldn't value their life.
(3:43:27 PM) Anke: Why are you in such a bad mood today?
(3:46:10 PM) Weft: Mr. Vespers called me a *inaudible*
[And Vespers had to go to bed here]
[*] Whole bottles of ink, or the equivalent online, have been spilt over who Vespers meant by "you".
- Music:Living Colour - Cult of Personality - GH3 soundtrack
Suitov debrainwashed Weft and they shared a clumsy, desperate kiss just seconds before they were parted for ever.
It's minimalist, I suppose...
But you KNOW I want more detail.
"Come on, Jade. I thought you knew, that's all. You kept making those backhanded comments about me being jealous."
"Yeah, of me! Jealous of me. I'd have never thought you were jealous of..." She caught his eye. "Of him. Of Ice."
"More fool you. And lucky Ice... yet again. Always lucky. Looks, loot and ladies, right? What more could you want in a man?" So why are you here, miss tall and red avenger? Why here, with me?
"Why don't you tell me, Weft? What can you offer that Suitov can't?"
He let his eyes wander down her long legs while he figured out what to say. Those long, muscled legs in her ripped jeans. On second thought, that wasn't helping. He looked towards the door instead. Then back to her. Jaina's eyes were... he'd found them horribly tacky at first, but when you looked into them, really looked, you could... He pulled himself together, yet again. Was it just him or was it getting hot in here?
"For a start," he said, "I can mend that slash in your jeans." Of course, you'll have to take them off first. "After that, well, I guess we'll see." If there was a cleverer line, he couldn't think of it. That had always been Suitov's arena too.
Jaina ran her left hand over the taut denim, almost shyly. "I think I'd like that," she said.
Rewritten because Jainey didn't like being the... initiator. Lady's prerogative, right, boys?
Weft squeaked in surprise. For a second it seemed that his eyes would flutter closed; then he squirmed inhumanly out of her grasp and staggered backwards. It was the only time she'd seen him move clumsily.
"Um," croaked Weft, swallowed a couple of times and tried again. "Don't think I haven't thought about it. But I... can't."
Jaina smiled the smile of a predat oh shit Weft coming must close laptop seeya soon darlings x ^_^
What was 'normal' with this guy, anyway?
His four limbs twitched just once, finding themselves thoroughly immobilised by the woody vines she'd grown in a hurry, and he looked at her. "I take it I failed," Weft said steadily.
"You could say that," Sylvie replied, and sighed. "Is it worth asking why you tried to kill me?"
"I was told to."
"Simple as that?"
"Simple as that."
"Right." It would be wrong to say she was developing a headache; Sylvie had been nurturing this one all morning, beginning with the loud alarm shrieks from her little two-headed companion, who had flown off to chase a brown-and-white magpie and hadn't been seen since, and growing worse as the sun came above the gorse and heather to shine in her eyes.
Being almost assassinated hadn't exactly helped matters, though. And now...
Not knowing what else to do, Sylvie put her meagre camp in order. She left until last the overshirt, trousers, belt and shoes she'd removed from her would-be murderer while he was unconscious. She didn't really want to touch them. Far too many ways to get cut.
Weft had noticed, of course he had, that he was stripped down to his undershirt and shorts. Sylvie still wasn't sure she'd removed all the weapons, but she'd wanted to leave him some dignity. Besides, she'd gummed his fingers together as an extra precaution. With any luck, he wouldn't get out of her little trap before she was long gone.
A nagging thought recurred to her and she turned back to the restrained assassin. "You know, one thing I have been wondering. Surely your superiors know you're," choose words carefully, now, "friends with Sebastian. Weren't they worried you'd warn him?"
"Or you directly?" he added. He seemed resigned. "No. I couldn't, even if I'd wanted to. Which I - did, very much."
Sylvie folded her arms and looked at him in case he'd elaborate.
"And if you're wondering, no, I wasn't slacking off or going easy on you. I made a genuine error, your magic was too good, you got me fair and square."
Except that it was completely by chance. It didn't bear thinking about. If she hadn't set up those silent alarms in case another wild stag came blundering by...
"Actually," Sylvie said, "I was wondering why you were sent in particular, instead of someone with no... emotional involvement in the case. Their cruel joke at the victim's expense, perhaps?" She didn't really think so, but... no, actually she wouldn't put much past these people. Not given the way Suitov talked about them.
"I don't think they think like that. More likely they were punishing me," Weft said matter-of-factly.
Sylvie raised an eyebrow. "For?"
"Take your pick. I'm a pretty lousy botcher, always making mistakes. I deserve it."
"Is that so?"
"Come off it, Sylvie. I just tried to kill you! I would think you'd at least agree with that one."
Sylvie shrugged and turned away. Give him time to stew. She had the strong feeling that now was an opportunity to get some answers she wouldn't normally hear.
Besides, she had a lithe, pliant and scantily-clad visitor tied up and he'd just said he deserved to be punished. Sylvie always did her best to be accommodating.
"My dear friend," he began, addressing the assassin who was currently wrapped in his arms and gently purring.
"Mm?" enunciated Weft, too warm and comfortable to move.
"When I agreed to sleep with you..."
"Mmmmm."
"...which you convinced me was the only way to save the dragons' lives..."
"Oh," said Weft, "yeah, the dragons, yeah. Only way."
"I don't recall marriage being mentioned at any point."
Weft opened his eyes and leaned back a little. He gave Iceheart a narrow look. Then he chuckled. "You're such a kidder, Rigey. A one-night stand? Really, what sort of boy do you think I am?"
"OMG," said Weft, "I am so hot today." He took off his conservatively cut bubblegum pink sweater and twirled it teasingly.
"Yes, yes you are," leered Müttly Föe, applauding.
"Shut up. This is supposed to be a stakeout," Weft told him.
"I came out centuries ago. Are you going to stake me?" asked Müttly Föe honestly and euphemistically.
"Keep your brain on duty," snapped the monk.
"That is hard when the blood is rushing elsewhere," the half-vampire said. "Aww, no," he added, disappointedly watching Weft wriggle into a black turtleneck.
Some day he would ask about those scars across the assassin's abs. He had a feeling there was a dramatic and potentially hawt story behind them. There certainly was for all of Müttly Föe's scars, which he did not need to keep because he had a healing factor and cellular regeneration, but he kept them to remind him and also for the coolness factor.
"Is there any sign of movement?"
"Oh right, the target." Müttly Föe squinted across the dock. The windows of the houseboat were darkened and the curtains were drawn. The curtains were yellow with a pattern that looked sort of like abstract feathers or ribbons. "No there is no sign of movement. You realise I could just stop time and use the Force and then..."
"Shut up. My assignment, my rules." Weft's hand found the back of Müttly Föe's neck. In an instant he dug a thumbnail into a pressure point to remind the vampire who was boss.
"I can tell it is going to be hard work getting into your pants," Müttly Föe said appreciatively.
"You're a size 10. You wouldn't fit."
I mean, technically it's all true, but I may have exaggerated the numbers of 'shippers slightly.
Personally... so completely over the Webbie pairing. It was cool a few years ago when nobody was doing it. Now - practically canon anyway and everyone's on board ship. (Jexely is still <3 though and I have a guilty soft spot for SebRiccy. I might upload some more of those.)
Recently, and I KNOW I keep going on about it, but Laffweffa - so obvious! I can't see why anyone else doesn't see it! And it's het for a change ^^
- Mood:Hey baby, you can sail my ship
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babylonvenus- Ishtar is Love. and sex.
- Profusion writing and roleplay
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