02-11-2015, 04:46 PM
She relinquished the beer with surprisingly docility. The lingering nature of his stare was accepted as worship entirely her due; he'd have been playing with fire to offer anything less. Of course, if all she'd wanted was a quick fuck, she wouldn't have bothered with the pretence of the club; she would have simply taken what she wanted without the preamble. Her intentions were more convoluted, and lust narrowed Giovanni's gaze too far. Ori meant to pull those strings, but there was more she wanted from him.
"The favour you owe me? For being complicit in your little secret?"
She was not naive, and neither was she being coy. The edge to her voice was faintly sharp, though the intensity of her interest did not abate. Languid. Considering. She knew exactly what he meant, and the tartness of her answer was not a rebuff so much as a reminder of where the power lie. Assume nothing, with Ori. "That favour will be claimed another day."
She brushed away the hint of threat with another darkly glittering smile.
"Tonight, we're going to have fun"
The odds blinked on dozens of holo-screens, as did fighter stats, wins and losses. Blood and sweat set an odious tang to the fragrant scent of the wealthy. Glasses clinked. Cheers, growls and threats punctuated the noise of the crowd. Laughter. Violence. A cacophony of emotion. A tool to be bent to will.
A graceful swing and Ori reclaimed her legs from the table, stood. "I'll get my own drink."
The quirk of her smile suggested she wasn't offended -- and she wasn't -- but the words lashed a sting nonetheless for his negligence. By now he must realise she enjoyed playing with him.
She'd told him he sat amongst the rich and powerful of Moscow, a cuckoo in a brilliantly lined nest. It was up to him if he choose to make use of the generous information, but for now he was on his own. She left him there an inordinate amount of time, seeing to her own interests before the main show. She wanted to know who exactly graced their presence at the Almaz this evening, information not easily won given the place's reputation for discretion and secrecy. But then Oriena was an expert at loosening lips.
As the fights in the pits began to wrap up, the lights overhead shifted focus. Screens projecting a clear view of the cage sprang up at various junctures, as the evening's main event was announced to the thirsty masses.
The statistics of two fighters scrolled the screens. The first: gold eyes, almost yellow. A carnal expression, thick matted hair and beard, teeth white underneath the thatch of dark. Both fighters were muscular, ropey, and still smudged with the darkness of the Underground -- like they'd quite literally been dragged up from the bowels of the earth. But the second man, if man was a word that could even describe him, was cadaverous despite the sinew. Like a starved and powerful dog. And the black void of his gaze was hungry. Blood stained his lip, which he sucked on in something near desperation. An image echoed a thousand times on the numerous screens.
Inhuman, she'd heard.
Flesh struck flesh almost the moment the two were raised from the mechanics below. For a moment silence greeted the voracious start to the fight. Then the cheers began.
Ori made her way back through the enraptured crowd. The gift flooded in like ice on a sweltering day, and she knew Giovanni would sense it one way or another, if she didn't know if he'd have any idea what she did with the sinuous threads. One hand made a caress down the side of his neck, smoothed a path down his collarbone to rest flat, just within the opening of his shirt. The other slid a fresh bottle of beer into his lap. She lounged in a position hypocritically proprietorial, considering her own internal reaction to Giovanni's arm about her shoulders.
"Serve or burn,"
she reminded him. A tickle of breath in his ear. He'd hear the wicked grin in her voice, even if he couldn't see it on her lips. He said he was a god. She'd coax him to prove it, and not just to her this time.
[[Wolfkin vs rougarou. Fight! (Mortal Kombat theme tune optional XD) Ori is fixing to set those guys loose on the crowd - it will happen the moment one or both of them slam into the bars of the door. Feel free to control them or any other NPCs, but please don't kill off the wolfkin.]]
Edited by Oriena, Feb 11 2015, 04:53 PM.
"The favour you owe me? For being complicit in your little secret?"
She was not naive, and neither was she being coy. The edge to her voice was faintly sharp, though the intensity of her interest did not abate. Languid. Considering. She knew exactly what he meant, and the tartness of her answer was not a rebuff so much as a reminder of where the power lie. Assume nothing, with Ori. "That favour will be claimed another day."
She brushed away the hint of threat with another darkly glittering smile.
"Tonight, we're going to have fun"
The odds blinked on dozens of holo-screens, as did fighter stats, wins and losses. Blood and sweat set an odious tang to the fragrant scent of the wealthy. Glasses clinked. Cheers, growls and threats punctuated the noise of the crowd. Laughter. Violence. A cacophony of emotion. A tool to be bent to will.
A graceful swing and Ori reclaimed her legs from the table, stood. "I'll get my own drink."
The quirk of her smile suggested she wasn't offended -- and she wasn't -- but the words lashed a sting nonetheless for his negligence. By now he must realise she enjoyed playing with him.
She'd told him he sat amongst the rich and powerful of Moscow, a cuckoo in a brilliantly lined nest. It was up to him if he choose to make use of the generous information, but for now he was on his own. She left him there an inordinate amount of time, seeing to her own interests before the main show. She wanted to know who exactly graced their presence at the Almaz this evening, information not easily won given the place's reputation for discretion and secrecy. But then Oriena was an expert at loosening lips.
As the fights in the pits began to wrap up, the lights overhead shifted focus. Screens projecting a clear view of the cage sprang up at various junctures, as the evening's main event was announced to the thirsty masses.
The statistics of two fighters scrolled the screens. The first: gold eyes, almost yellow. A carnal expression, thick matted hair and beard, teeth white underneath the thatch of dark. Both fighters were muscular, ropey, and still smudged with the darkness of the Underground -- like they'd quite literally been dragged up from the bowels of the earth. But the second man, if man was a word that could even describe him, was cadaverous despite the sinew. Like a starved and powerful dog. And the black void of his gaze was hungry. Blood stained his lip, which he sucked on in something near desperation. An image echoed a thousand times on the numerous screens.
Inhuman, she'd heard.
Flesh struck flesh almost the moment the two were raised from the mechanics below. For a moment silence greeted the voracious start to the fight. Then the cheers began.
Ori made her way back through the enraptured crowd. The gift flooded in like ice on a sweltering day, and she knew Giovanni would sense it one way or another, if she didn't know if he'd have any idea what she did with the sinuous threads. One hand made a caress down the side of his neck, smoothed a path down his collarbone to rest flat, just within the opening of his shirt. The other slid a fresh bottle of beer into his lap. She lounged in a position hypocritically proprietorial, considering her own internal reaction to Giovanni's arm about her shoulders.
"Serve or burn,"
she reminded him. A tickle of breath in his ear. He'd hear the wicked grin in her voice, even if he couldn't see it on her lips. He said he was a god. She'd coax him to prove it, and not just to her this time.
[[Wolfkin vs rougarou. Fight! (Mortal Kombat theme tune optional XD) Ori is fixing to set those guys loose on the crowd - it will happen the moment one or both of them slam into the bars of the door. Feel free to control them or any other NPCs, but please don't kill off the wolfkin.]]
Edited by Oriena, Feb 11 2015, 04:53 PM.
![[Image: orianderis.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/orianderis.jpg)