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Red Light Warning Sign [Karne]

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  • Red Light Warning Sign [Karne]

    Enter one svelte, nineteen-year-old girl with long, gingered locks, sat with poise at the bar with an entire bottle of something much stronger than wine all to herself - not that wine didn't have its merits - and one glass. One girl that for not so much the manner of her dress as the materials involved looked to be rather out of place in Rama's Corner. Assurances, of course, that she was here on purpose, on Munto Codru, in reach of the Sith, and this was simply the first hole-in-the-wall she'd stepped into in search of some sort of alcoholic substance and maybe some company. That couldn't hurt, though chances were that she wouldn't complain if it did. Something to mark the occasion of heading down this new road in her life, perhaps?

    Nineteen was rather young for one of her kind and Munto Codru was rather far for one of her breeding to be from home, but home was stifling for the second daughter of a matriarchal house - stifling and dead-end. Powerless. It didn't matter into what kind of house a second daughter was married; matriarchal, patriarchal, as long as it brought the family a connection. It was unlikely she would ever attain the level of power her elder sister did by remaining on Morellia, but her father, her dear father had shown her another way.

    Kindred spirits of a sort, neither truly first in life, he had shared with her the gateway to true power and indoctrinated her into those ways, the ways of the Sith... and she had thanked him by putting an end to his suffering. Her father, after all, was a sick man, a dying man (as all were dying from the very first moment of life), and she left before the legal ramifications could make her life worse and ruin her. Oh, it was not that she was abused, but suffice to say her needs were not being met as second string to an heiress. Perhaps all of those needs could be met here...

    ...power and otherwise.
    Last edited by Marselia Urstalis; 01-12-2015, 05:12 PM.

  • #2
    There was no downpour or rumbling thunder to muffle the rampant inquisitiveness of his mind. The animals, flora, and weather were very different here; having spent the entirety of his life within a sodden swamp on the planet of Dromund Kaas. They, Neferis and himself, had only just arrived and it had been encouraged that he acclimate himself to his new environment before he stepped forth to be judged by his peers and superiors. Thus, he stood just outside a social hub of sorts and silently observed as men and women of every species came and went from Rama's Corner. His crimson eyes gleamed in the copse of darkness, where he'd situated himself, his black swathed frame slanted into a casual lean against a tree. It was doubtful that he'd get the kind of experience she had advised lingering in the shadows as he was and so, after a few more minutes of observation, Karne straightened himself and silently made his way to the front door of the establishment.

    A drunken pair came stumbling out just as his gloved hand extended to the door and he sidestepped immediately, narrowly missing a collision with two humans who were locking lips with admirable intensity. Beneath the black cowl drawn up over his head, a brow lofted in wonder and then he sidled past them to step inside. The scent of stale beer, some kind of tobacco, and what he could only compare to the carcasses of the animals he'd felled in the depths of the swamp, teased his nostrils in a not altogether pleasant way. His face wrinkled in displeasure beneath the hood but he did not let such things deter him.

    Stepping up to the bar counter, he slotted himself into a vacant crevice between an empty stool and a female patron. Calloused fingers raised and gingerly tugged back the cowl, revealing his azure skin, the birthmark on his face, and alert eyes that never seemed to linger in one place for long. Except on her. They swept away when the barman stepped up to him and he ordered an ale with no further description. A mug was filled and then slid to him, his gloved palm darting out to catch the container.


    • #3
      On average, if there was an empty stool a new patron at the bar would choose to sit on that stool. The majority of her observances in every bar, cantina, watering hole she had patronized between home and here - and in places rather out-of-the-way - had spoken to this fact. For the minority that didn’t step to this predictable motion, their actions were often much too forward, and by the time it was over with… much too painful to try again. Dissuading the typical male from the pursuit of her body was a skill she was well-versed in, for there was nothing quite like a drink in peace in the midst of a busy establishment - for most, this was simply too difficult to accomplish, or not of worth to try at all. The ability to do so was something she prided herself on; to her own psyche, it leant an untouchable, inviolable aura. At home, the common rabble simply knew well enough to leave her alone: at first, for fear of her father, and as she came of age, fear of what she might do. Rumour laid a most wonderful foundation for the ignorant masses.

      But what of this? Slate grey eyes left their pondering of the dark pool in her glass to find the azure face, just as one gloved hand of its owner struck out to catch the mug sliding across the bartop. The sweeping mark on his face was what made him a deviation from the few others of his species she had seen before - an interesting deviation, to be certain. Vermilion strands that clung to her cheek slipped back when her head craned around a little more, up a little further to try and see where the mark ended. Satisfied that such a thing simply wasn’t to happen unless he turned his head, a faint smile took her lips and her eyes slipped back towards her glass, head following a second later; a half-curtain of hair falling across her cheek, divided from the rest by an ear, pierced with a fine stud in the lobe. She swirled the liquid in the glass, that smile spreading. Had she found the sight of him pleasing?

      “Bold of you to get so close.”

      And that was all she said, the wine glass lifted to her lips and a fair draw taken from it. The words neither chastising nor flirtatious - simply an observation. Indifferent, save for the faint, imploring curl in the sound of them.
      Last edited by Marselia Urstalis; 02-26-2015, 01:40 AM.


      • #4
        The act of lifting the mug of ale to his lips was halted, his crimson eyes shifting to the woman who had spoke. Her. He did not answer right away, his gaze smoothing across the pink hued skin of her face, along a curl of hair tucked behind her ear, and finally resting upon the stud of metal pierced through the lobe there. What was its purpose? Had it hurt much? Fingers flexed at his side, the urge to touch nearly overwhelming in that instance. He held it in check, raising the mug to his lips and sampling the beverage while he composed his thoughts.

        "Is it?" He asked, angling his body toward the woman while lowering the container back to the bar counter. He was in no rush to finish the rest of the brew, finding he had no taste for the particular beverage. His fingers unwound from the handle and drifted up, providing a perch for the side of his head tilted sideways in curiosity. His other hand lingered between them, still clenched. Karne detected no ire in her statement and wouldn't have known an invitation readily. Regardless of that, he leaned a measure closer and let a bold smile curve his azure lips. "Why is that?"


        • #5
          At his question, at his proximity inching closer, she swallowed and lowered her own glass on the worn counter, head tilting back just so when the liquid traveled off of her tongue and further down inside of her. Was it bold, or was she just following a script? The same old thing, but... was this the same old thing? Her bare, slim-fingered hand remained curled around the glass and its cool temperature, her face moving just an inch in his direction so that her eyes could better shift to corners for a look at that visage that was closer than it had been, climbing up it from chin to wholly crimson orbs.

          "Because," the word hung in the air, and drifted off into obscurity. A moment more and her hold was released on the glass, body turning in the seat to follow suit after the direction of her gaze. Her lips curled again, fingers tucking loose hair back away behind the ear, "you might get hurt," an innocent enough supposition, as he was close enough for even something so simple as an accident to happen, "and I'm not sure you would want that..."

          Her fingers stopped behind her ear and slowly traced down around the neck to the collarbone, lingering there.

          "...but then, I know nothing of your wants."


          • #6
            Her face was directed closer and just as her eyes rose in inspection of his countenance, crimson orbs lowered to watch the way her lips issued a response. The softest intake of breath was his reaction to that initial word, a word he eagerly hung on in anticipation of the next. His clenched fist unfurled as her fingers disengaged from the wine glass, maintaining his attentive lean as she angled her body more toward him. Her lips curved and the only possible thing that could have lured his attention elsewhere in that moment was her hand, the fingers of which teased and spurred his barely contained compulsion.

            He was aware of every word but could not yet displace his gaze, his lips parting and teeth grinding without gentleness in an effort to restrain himself. His eyes followed the path of her hand, helplessly led by it until the gravity of her words demanded a response. He tilted his head back ever so slightly, unaware of the predatory angle it had assumed at her movements. He lifted his gaze to hers, matching her smile with one of his own. "I'm sure it would be worth it."


            • #7
              It wasn’t difficult to see the unspoken response he was giving off - those eyes followed her every subtle and delicate movement and the way his body strained for control was fascinating. A wondering slipped through her psyche at just what it was that might unravel him, and pursuant to that, whether she should like him to unravel, and if so, when. Of course, the other side of the matter was thus: what might happen if he was left all.. wound... up? That hand of hers left its lingering place, floating out to just between herself and him, fingers extending… and then that hand stopped, and the fingers curled back, eyes instead examining the other direction in which the mark on his face seemed to travel, disappearing underneath the collar.

              "Would it?" Her turn for a query, grey eyes tracing back up the mark to his crimson. Another point of fascination for her, those eyes. Hand still lingered in the air, excruciatingly close to where it might have gone, cleanly lacquered nails digging softly into the heel of the hand they came from. How long could this be drawn out? How thin was that restraint of his? What about hers? There was no intent to not indulge that curiosity. The other hand sat loose on the bartop, nails tracing idly at the foot of her glass.


              • #8
                There was a perceptible creak of leather as both hands tightened into fists; the muscle response rippling up his impressively carved but utterly concealed arms, causing sinew to strain against the rigid seams of his attire. As unfamiliar as this particular physical territory was, he was wise enough to know when he was being teased. It was not unlike being toyed with by a hunter who could easily sense the limits of its prey. With that thought, he found a a finite supplement of restraint and covered up his compulsion with a husky laugh. Would she so readily tease him if she did not crave the very same thing, herself? Perhaps she only found a thrill in winding him up. A shame, really; should matters progress, she would find he was very thorough and would not stop until he elicited every response her body offered him.

                "Yes." He answered solidly, his tone rough and harsh; made thus by the steady lapse of his control that had initiated the moment he had taken notice of her.


                • #9
                  There was no hesitation in that word, though whether any of it was confidence was another thing entirely, but… he had said it would be worth it, and was absolutely certain of that - this was as clear as intention and want could be. A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding issued from between her lips the moment that ‘yes’ left him and those fingers at the glass left their place to slip over the leathered, clenched fist that was closest, the tight feel of the material over knuckles being where her palm rested. The floating hand, for its part, laid pads of fingers over where the mark crossed his cheek and her head tilted again, eyes moving along with the slow path her fingers began to take down the curve of the mark, the tips of fingernails tracing a parallel on his face.

                  “What is the worth to you?” she asked quietly, the words a breathed whisper. How much was it worth, how far would he go... eyes left her fingers to find the solid, gleaming red of his own, "what would you do?"


                  • #10
                    The expulsion of the breath she held captive lured his crimson stare back down to her mouth, his front teeth ceasing their grind to hasp a bundle of his bottom lip. Her fingers alighted upon his hand, his grip clad in thick but skintight nubuck leather that allowed him to feel the pressure of those fingers but not their much desired texture. It was even more of a tease than before and his fingers unfurled ever so slowly, disparaging the white knuckled grip in favor of the heat radiating from her skin. Her skin. The words seemed to resonate through his thoughts, prompting a small, animalistic sound from the Chiss.

                    Then, he was finally rewarded with a true feel of her. The pads of her fingers laid over his cheek, just where the mark he bore began to arc. He closed his eyes, taking in the electrifying sensation of her nails gliding across his skin. Then, when she spoke, the sheen of his eyes reappeared and refocused upon her. She looked back at him and he withheld a reply in favor of other actions. The hand she did not clutch was lifted to his mouth, the same teeth that had snagged his lip now capturing the butter-soft leather curving his middle finger. He lured the material off with a tug accentuated by a head tilt, cupping it with his palm before discarding it to the bar counter.

                    "What wouldn't I do..." He corrected quietly, his index and middle finger of that newly exposed hand dipping to her lips, which had so entranced him. Balmy and pliable, he explored them with featherlight inquisitiveness.


                    • #11
                      The tilt of his head made her whole hand lay against his cheek, and the way he divested the free hand of its glove provoked several thoughts and flickers of imagery to waft across her psyche in a parade of sparklers. It was just a glove, but the removing of it felt perverse in such a public venue, and yet it wasn’t a thing that brought her embarrassment - no, social protocol still lived very much in the back of her mind, but she was so very far from home and its expectations, now wasn’t she? She was driven to a fixation whose sole focus was him with that act and the words that followed, the hand over his still-gloved one curling fingers in a clasp of his digits at the advent of his touch, a delicate contact at the softest, most pillowed point of her flesh.

                      A much shorter list, I hope… she couldn’t very well speak, not wanting to disturb his exploration, how far down does it go?, a thought at the trail of the mark, a potentially consuming curiosity; she would know. She had to, and the time for it was sometime between now and... later. That potential wait was frustrating, even now, so soon. Her fingers at his face resume their exploration, but it was a subconscious thing, her gaze instead following the collective of small facet movements of his face and eyes as he continued to discover.

                      At least until she couldn't hold it in, and nipped with a slow softness at one of those fingers, a grazing of teeth on flesh and nail trailing with lips dragging off the end of that central, small appendage. A light inward breath accompanied the motion, and an equal, outward one marked the cessation of it, her eyes fixing on his again. The drinks may well have been forgotten - a greater thirst sought to be quenched, instead.


                      • #12
                        The keen interest she showed his marking did not go unnoticed; but, he could not yet tear his fascination away from her supple mouth to properly respond to her curiosity. Not yet, not here. The need to entice and possess in that instance had overridden the desirous tremble, once witnessed at his fingertips; his bare touch indenting a bit more boldly until her teeth grazed the sensitized pad of his middle finger. The effects such an action had on him were devastating and he took an involuntary step toward her; the loose bend of his opposite, gloved hand clamping around her wrist, capturing it and dragging it forth to conform her fingers against the heated flesh of his neck.

                        "You feel so good." He told her in a low, throaty voice, the rasp of their breaths intertwining in the mere inches of space that now separated them. His index and middle finger retreated from their exploration, his thumb taking their place while his other digits cupped her jaw firmly. The rest of the establishment may as well have dissolved, the din of conversation and any other means of distraction unable to dislodge his cardinal stare from her's.


                        • #13
                          His low tone and specific words, his proximity, made her suck in a hissing breath in between the change of his fingers; the rest made her slip from the stool with care and without thought, dissolving the few inches that remained between them, making for a soft squirm right up against him, a grind to put herself into place that pushed her beyond whatever remained tying her to the reality around them. Such a small amount of touch on his part could go a long, long way; no other had ever been so consumed by her or consuming for her, and it was heady.

                          "How do you..." her chin lifted, words breathed, "taste..." and the hand at his neck went with a soft pressure to the back of his head, "I wonder," the other hand joining it to slip every finger into the darkness above, as every last bit separating her mouth from his was eaten up by the fire of her awakened hunger for this. She could be ravenous, she could come alive with abandon in the right hands, and already she was close, so close to that place when hardly a thing had occurred, her mouth and breath finding purchase along the strong lower line of his face.
                          Last edited by Marselia Urstalis; 05-09-2016, 02:33 AM.


                          • #14
                            Crimson eyes darted up from her lips as her chin tilted, meaning to pin her in place with a warning stare if her intent was to pull away. Something possessive and demanding unfurled within him in that moment and he came to recognize it for what it was. Desire. Potent and consuming, he fed upon it and let it nurture the rising obsession to own. Taste, she said. One of the senses he had yet to indulge in his exploration and yet, she was already ahead of him. He licked his lips, as if already sampling what she seemingly offered. And then...

                            A definite shudder, although slight, ran through his form as her lips encountered his flesh. The feather light caresses he plied to her transformed into an iron grip on her jaw, bringing her face about so that his mouth threatened to take. He moved forward just a milometer, his lips parting...

                            "Why don't you two get a room?"

                            The booming voice jostled him from the sensuous trance he had lapsed into, his gaze cutting sideward toward the barkeep. Anger, white hot, burst through him. Gods, he had never wanted to eviscerate someone so much as he did in that moment. His fingers relinquished her face and he sagged back against the bar counter, leaning indolently.

                            "You are bewitching. It is indeed dangerous to find myself close to you. You test the limits of my control." He told her honestly, desire still running rampant through his veins; as evident from the tension causing his fists to clench at his sides. Even now, he had to force down the urge to take hold of her.


                            • #15
                              His stare of warning had only served to paste a wicked smile across her psyche, though pulling away was the furthest thing from her mind; no sooner had she taken to his flesh with her mouth, only to be pulled away by the light touch that slipped to crushing with nary a complaint from her, the unyielding grip and pull of his hand on her face pulling a soft gasp from her willing mouth...

                              "Why don't you two get a room?"

                              Her focus snapped, and the vibrant green of her eyes slipped sidelong to the barkeep as fast as the rise of her own barely-leashed rage - who was he to dare interrupt her? - and the same seemingly inescapable thing that pulled the rather lust-provoking Chiss to her lunged off the Morellian towards the barkeep in a violent wave in one moment, only to crash and subside before it could reach the man and take hold in the next, on account of the loss of the red-eyed one's touch, and her immediate breath inward; a successful grasp for her own control.

                              Her eyes departed from the barkeep, landing on he who had been so intent on surely devouring her whole (in a manner of speaking) as he spoke the truth of just what she did to him. Such truths made an enticing bend of her lips occur as nothing else could, and she looked on his face anew after taking in the re-established strain in his tightly clenched fists. Oh, it was written all over him, as if the slightest thing would undo him; it was the most pleasing, alluring thing to her. She wanted to touch him, out of her own need, but also due to the perverse curiosity as to what might occur. She gripped her hands firmly together behind her back, in an effort to keep them to herself.

                              One didn't need hands to use their mouth, however.

                              "I wonder what it would take to break you..." she mused, her lower lip catching between her teeth when she took in a slow, sharp breath, "...but not yet, not yet."

                              She studied his face a moment, finding that this simple act fired the sensation of feeling his heated skin to her fingertips - yearning, perhaps - and she knew for certain that she needed to know what he might have done, had they been uninterrupted.

                              "I have something I need to do first," she stated, disengaging her hands from each other and bringing them around, "so if you can hold out for a little while longer," her hands slipping over his knees as she stepped close again, bringing her near enough to share words only for his ears, "I think the barkeep made an excellent suggestion."