Title: A Tuluki Dance
Date: 2011-08-03 09:56:27
Type: Logs
Synopsis: An atypical response to a GDB question about typical Zalanthan dancing. Aja Driamuasek and Ilune Jul Tavan unwind at the Tooth.
(Aja Driamusek and Ilune Jul Tavan stumble across each other near the Sanctuary.)
The delicate, lofty woman smiles faintly to you, nodding to you.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman frowns, struggling with her hood as she pulls it over her head.
You raise the hood of a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.
Cracking a shadowed smile, you look up at the delicate, lofty woman.
Lofty of stature and lean of frame, this woman's body bears a delicate portrayal. With a thick, unruly sprout of brown-black hair that is pushed back in a disheveled heap, she might carry the vague silhouette of a gwoshi when nothing is worn on her head. A few locks of contrasting hair fall around her brow, their blue shade concealing her bright green eyes at times.
Her olive facial features are stricken into a defined structure with her freckled cheekbones prominently high, and her thin nose tilted upward, all cradled by a pointed chin. Small, rounded ears poke out from either side of her head from beneath her mound of hair.
The delicate, lofty woman is in excellent condition.
The delicate, lofty woman is using:
three intricate symbols in cobalt and white
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Nah, and if I remember, last we talked I was a bit snippy..."
To you casually, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is seeing you, friend Aja."
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Sorry about that."
The delicate, lofty woman holds out a hand above her eyes.
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"I still owe ya a tour of the compound, too... don't forget. We should set a definite date."
Turning to join her, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"... And I am always glad to see you, Ilune. Is all well?"
You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:
"Next week too soon?"
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Next week's perfect."
Lifting their voices in unison, the drums reaching to a deafening clamor, a colorful, boisterous drum circle shouts, in sirihish:
"The world, the whole world at peace! Give us peace!"
You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:
"And I don't remember you being snippy with me. If you were, I hope I did nothing to earn it and if I did, you have my apologies."
To you as she reaches out for your hand, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is always well, friend Aja. I is missing Jhalav ways of mine. I is wanting spear of mine. I is happy with brother of mine here, though, friend Aja."
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Nah, just the few weeks leadin' up to the event were stressful..."
Looking to her hand before lifting her own, gloved, and giving a quiet squeeze, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"If you start to get too... uncomfortable, do what you must. You'll have a welcome here when you need it."
You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:
"Mm. I can only imagine."
You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:
"Thank you for your kind words. I'll see you next week, and finally have a glimpse of this estate of yours."
Glancing north, then south, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is wanting to join friend of mine, if you is wanting I to."
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"Yeah, lookin' forward to it."
The delicate, lofty woman smiles toward you in a charming manner.
The stout, crook-nosed man sends you a telepathic message:
"His Light, Aja."
With a quiet chuckle, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"If I'm wanting you to? I think I would hope you would do as you please, within all normal bounds of reason, and enjoy yourself."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You send a telepathic message to the stout, crook-nosed man:
"His Light guard you, Agent, a thousand times over."
You dissolve the psychic link.
Sounding confused, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is just asking if you is wanting to talk and perhaps dance with I, friend Aja."
Head canting to one side, her shadowed smile intrigued, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"... Goodness, you do have a dancer's blood in you. I would be... delighted... to be able to join you, if you wish it."
You think:
"... My other business can wait."
You are carrying:
a light brown, leather instrument case
You now follow the delicate, lofty woman.
The delicate, lofty woman releases your hand and wraps her arm around your waist, turning southward.
To you conversationally, the delicate, lofty woman exclaims, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is Jhalav, friend Aja. Please do not be fooled by brother of mine, who is -shyest- of all Jhalavs!"
The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak glances over the delicate, lofty woman and gives a surprised laugh, your light brown, leather instrument case bouncing against her hip while she rests her free arm on her shoulder.
(Walking for the Tooth…)
Mouth quirking, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"If he is shy, dear Ilune, I fear I don't know what I would make of you."
You feel like this woman is highly dangerous.
To you cautiously, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is not wanting to ask, friend Aja. I is fearing your answer..."
(Hemote) The crisp aroma of mint lingers in the air around
the figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.
The figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
The delicate, lofty woman glances to you briefly, her eyes then dipping to the ground with a hint of embarrassment.
Pale eyes amused beneath the shadows of her hood, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"... I'm afraid I don't know you well enough, although by all accounts you are a sociable, bold, and engaging young woman."
Head lowering in a faint nod, the figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster ambles on past.
The figure in a hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster walks north.
Shrugging with a light swing of her arm, the delicate, lofty woman walks south.
To you cheerily, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is never called so many things, friend Aja..."
Peering over, the delicate, lofty woman looks down at you.
The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak keeps a leisurely pace at the delicate, lofty woman's side, mouth quirking.
With a hint of wryness to her voice, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"Never? Hm. What have you been called then?"
The delicate, lofty woman makes a flippant wave of her hand, laughing softly.
The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak echoes the delicate, lofty woman's laugh, her own quiet and wry, still.
Her voice mumbling on the side of amusement, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is called lots of things, I is just joking like city women is doing so often, friend Aja."
With a simple shake of her head, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"And you do it very well. I should ask your pardon. My... humor is at best elusive and at worst non-existent."
(Hemote) The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak studies the delicate, lofty woman with a sidelong gaze, her tone keeping a serene, conversational cadence.
Holding out a scab-covered hand, a foul-smelling dwarvish beggar exclaims, in an unfamiliar tongue:
"ksci! snhi muj gla uhylyzkab!"
Shaking her head with a friendly smile to you, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is liking you very much, friend Aja. I is not thinking humor of yours is worst."
The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak frowns down, fleetingly at a foul-smelling dwarvish beggar's hand.
The delicate, lofty woman tugs you along away from a foul-smelling dwarvish beggar, grimacing.
Recollecting herself and glancing back to her, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"You are too kind, my friend. Are we meeting someone, if I might ask?"
The delicate, lofty woman asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Is you wanting to, friend Aja?"
With a simple shake of her head, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"Not at all. It was more a question of your own desires."
You think:
"She's good."
You feel that she is very, very good.
To you slowly, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is not wanting to dance with anyone but my friend Aja."
You feel that this is utterly intriguing.
With a softer voice, you ask the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"Where did you learn to dance, Ilune?"
You think:
"Because you are breathtaking to watch."
You feel a weary doubt, that even at your best, that you were never so good.
To you simply, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is learned as young Jhalav in tents of us."
With a flickering smile, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"I was dancer - many years ago, when I was much younger than I am now. It has been a delight, seeing you."
The delicate, lofty woman squeezes you affectionately, appearing flattered.
Smiling to herself, the delicate, lofty woman walks south.
(Hemote) The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak lets out a soft breath, nearly a laugh.
You think:
"Very clever girl."
The delicate, lofty woman turns as she nears the entrance, sliding her hand from around you.
The delicate, lofty woman takes hold of your hand, tugging you inside.
"The Tembo's Tooth" - Tavern [EWD Quit]
Smooth, sanded cylini planks have been laid across the floor of this cramped room, their polished surface flickering in the lights of the candles. Dark stains splatter the wooden floor at odd intervals, disrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the wood with slight warps and bends. A curved bar, formed from what appears to have once been highly polished agafari wood extends from the northern wall. Spaced around it are several bare, ascetic wooden barstools. A sturdy trapdoor has been set in the floor behind the bar. Several rows of shelves have been inset into the wall behind the bar and contain a variety of local ales and liquor. Willowy, vine-like plants drape from rounded clay bowls, the gloss of their leaves reflecting the dim light of the candles spaced around the room. Rows of booths line the northern and southern walls while the center of the room is occupied by two rounded tables.
To you over her shoulder, the delicate, lofty woman asks, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Where is you wanting to dance, friend Aja?"
With a chuckle, following her in, lead by the hand, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"Wherever there's room, in a place like the Tooth."
l e
To the east is "The Tembo's Tooth" - Spice Den.
[Near]
The stumpy, gnarled dwarf is sitting on a plush, embroidered couch.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf stands here, scowling faintly.
The chubby, brown-haired man is sitting on a plush, embroidered couch.
The slender, raven-haired woman is sitting on a plush, embroidered couch.
The delicate, lofty woman smirks, glancing around the tavern.
The figure in a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak shakes her head, her hood falling away from her face.
You lower the hood of a hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.
To you, reaching up to your hood, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is wanting to see this pretty hair of yours, friend Aja."
Hair falling across her face as she casts the delicate, lofty woman an arch look, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"Ask and you shall receive."
To you, tugging your along through a string of tables to a quiet end of the tavern, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is always asking, in case of this, friend Aja."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman trots along after the delicate, lofty woman, squeezing through a crowd of drinking patrons.
The delicate, lofty woman stops where there is a good few paces of room, turning around.
Sliding it across an empty one with a pointed look to a nearby dwarf, you put your light brown, leather instrument case onto a compact agafari table.
To you with a soothing motion of her hand, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is thinking your lute is fine, friend Aja. No one is knowing how to play one here."
Tugging at the clasp with a gloved hand, you stop using your hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak.
With a soft breath, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"They'll leave it be, I think."
Draping it across it, you put your hooded, white-trimmed, red cloak onto a compact agafari table.
The delicate, lofty woman smiles encouragingly, both hands on her hips as she awaits you.
With an intrigued study of her before she steps closer, brushing at a strand of hair along the side of her face, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"... Well, friend? Do your worst."
With a determined glint in her green eyes, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is always doing worst of mine."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman chuckles, softly, reaching for one of the delicate, lofty woman's hands.
You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
"Thief! Thief!"
The coy-looking, young elf raises the hood of a deep-hooded, brown robe.
(Hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman glances, fleetingly, into the next room.
The delicate, lofty woman places her hands on your shoulders, smiling in a reassuring way to you.
Her brow peaking, the delicate, lofty woman looks down at you.
You notice the delicate, lofty woman start watching you.
Sliding gloved hands to rest against her waist, shoulders rolling, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"... You seem to favor slower dances..."
(Hemote) The crisp aroma of mint lingers in the air around the ethereal, fair-haired woman.
To you quietly, nodding faintly, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"You is knowing I well, friend Aja."
Leaning into the delicate, lofty woman, the ethereal, fair-haired woman steps closer, slipping an arm further around her waist and easing into her rhythm.
The delicate, lofty woman lifts a hand to rest on your neck, her other not moving from the shoulder.
You feel acutely aware of everything.
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's pale eyes narrow, attentive in their wry, helpless amusement.
The delicate, lofty woman twists her hips backward, tugging you along as she makes small steps away.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's bright green eyes remain on you, collecting her form curiously as she moves.
Arms tensing about the delicate, lofty woman's waist, the ethereal, fair-haired woman follows her, sidestepping and grazing past an admiring, taller man.
The brutish, red-eyed half-giant has entered the world.
The delicate, lofty woman guides you to turn to the side, taking a step nearly past you.
Taking in a slow, relaxed breath, the ethereal, fair-haired woman brushes her knee against the delicate, lofty woman's leg, your flowing white linen skirt brushing against her.
One of the ethereal, fair-haired woman's hands slips away from the delicate, lofty woman's waist, letting her turn and shift.
You think:
"... If only Brethel-da could see this..."
The delicate, lofty woman's hands trail along your neck, resting to cup under your chin as she shimmies to side-step to each side. Her hips flair out from underneath her long purple linen skirt, and she stretches her leg past you to press her body back to you.
The delicate, lofty woman bumps against you, offering a polite smile all of a sudden.
Quietly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"You is best I has danced with in this city of yours, friend Aja."
With an answering smile, a slight, teasing wrinkle of her nose, the ethereal, fair-haired woman lets a hand glide up the delicate, lofty woman's leg and hip, settling there as she lets the other hug to her back.
With a grave tone and glittering eyes, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"I dare say you say that to whomever you are with... and thank you."
The delicate, lofty woman throws her head back and laughs loudly.
Shaking her head faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is not doing that, friend Aja...."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's slender body shakes with supressed laughter, giving the delicate, lofty woman a fond squeeze, almost a hug.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's hands squeeze you in return.
With a quiet click of her tongue as she turns her, giving a slight twist, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"... My apologies then."
The delicate, lofty woman releases you, folding her hands behind her back as she takes one step back.
The delicate, lofty woman's brow lifts to you expectantly, a coy smile on her lips.
Brow arching, the ethereal, fair-haired woman looks the delicate, lofty woman over from toe to head, taking her time in her quiet inspection, posture still slightly tensed, a dancer's tension.
The delicate, lofty woman lifts her chin slightly to you, as though beckoning.
Ever so slowly, the ethereal, fair-haired woman lifts a single gloved hand to the delicate, lofty woman almost but not quite touching her upper arm.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's body twists slightly to touch the gloved hand.
His curious, red-eyed gaze assessively scanning the area, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant grins broadly as settles back a bit to watch a graceful dance.
With an easy flick of her wrist, the ethereal, fair-haired woman stretches further and pushes against the delicate, lofty woman's arm, encouraging her to spin around.
The delicate, lofty woman giggles as she spins on her heel, stopping with her back facing you.
The delicate, lofty woman wiggles her bottom from side to side, her hands still behind her back.
With an easy, smooth stride, the ethereal, fair-haired woman closes the distance to the delicate, lofty woman in the same moment, an arm slipping about her waist.
Laughter warming her own tone, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"... Did I get that right?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman reaches for one of the delicate, lofty woman's hands, lifting it, placing it at the back of her own neck.
The delicate, lofty woman wraps her arms around your waist in turn, craning her neck back to lean her cheek against your own.
The general ruckus in the tavern escalates slightly as a hooded figure rushes up the eastern ramp and into the room from the spice den, holding a sack of coins aloft and bellowing jubilantly.
Smiling happily, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Yes."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's hair, too-long, brushes at the delicate, lofty woman's neck and shoulder.
The delicate, lofty woman's body shudders slightly at the touch, as though tickled.
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes quickly scan over the room, studying the faces of the nearest and most entranced patrons.
Behind the delicate, lofty woman, the ethereal, fair-haired woman curves and writhes, drawing her along with her to a silent, sinewous dance.
The delicate, lofty woman's hips shake slowly from side to side, rubbing against you as her feet pad in place.
You think:
"Breathe..."
The delicate, lofty woman's hand trails through your hair as she lets out a soft, content sigh.
Transfixed by the dance, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant stands as still as stone, his gaze settling on the delicate, lofty woman and you for a long moment.
With something like contentment teasing at the corner of her mouth, the ethereal, fair-haired woman begins to move backwards, guiding the delicate, lofty woman with cautious tenderness, at first.
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the delicate, lofty woman's waist an assuring squeeze.
You think:
"I've got you."
You think:
"Feel me, little one. Listen..."
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's hand tugs slightly on your hair as she is squeezed.
Her smile warming, steadying, the ethereal, fair-haired woman's eyes drift half-closed as she moves faster, her breathing escalating as she gives a sudden twirl, using her body and hands to guide the delicate, lofty woman.
(hemote) Sweat glistens at the ethereal, fair-haired woman's collarbone.
You think:
"... Perfect..."
The delicate, lofty woman twirls lightly on her toes, her hand trailing along you as she does. She slides to a stop, her pair of shaggy quirri-hide boots tapping on the ground.
The delicate, lofty woman takes a decisive step toward you, placing a hand at your lower back and one at your shoulder.
The hand at her waist lifts, the ethereal, fair-haired woman letting it rest against the side of the delicate, lofty woman face while she stills, but for the slightest of rockings from side to side.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the delicate, lofty woman's face a fond brush, gloved hand soft, while her other arm hangs at her side, motionless.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman tilts her head to rub against your hand with a pleased smile as she drifts from side to side.
She reaches down and snatches up the unused hand, placing it on the delicate, lofty woman's neck.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman lets the hand slide down to the side of the delicate, lofty woman's neck, joining the other, cupping her neck as she leans into her, swaying with her silent dance.
The delicate, lofty woman takes three quick steps to one side, half-twisting back into place after causing no more than a lean in the dance.
The chubby, brown-haired man has arrived from the east.
The slender, raven-haired woman has arrived from the east.
The short, barrel-chested dwarf has arrived from the east.
The stumpy, gnarled dwarf grunts, squinting as he looks around.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman's hands are feather light against the delicate, lofty woman's skin.
The stumpy, gnarled dwarf walks west.
With a glance around the tavern, the slender, raven-haired
woman says, in sirihish:
"Crowd picked up."
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's skin is shined with
sweat.
With a bright smile, the slender, raven-haired woman says to you, in sirihish:
"Aja! Hello. "
The ethereal, fair-haired woman cracks a sharp, approving smile, her body following the movement of the delicate, lofty woman's own, as they dance a silent, sensuous dance in a quieter corner of the room.
The brutish, red-eyed half-giant stoops a bit as he nods toward the chubby, brown-haired man, grinning.
The chubby, brown-haired man nods to the slender, raven-haired woman, looking about.
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman starts, stiffening.
The slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Oh, looks like we were missing dancing."
Smiling, the chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"Must be because I'm here, hmm?"
The ethereal, fair-haired woman turns her head, picking out the slender, raven-haired woman and narrowing her pale eyes with amused greeting, body not easing away from the delicate, lofty woman's own.
The delicate, lofty woman squints out past the gawking patrons immediately around them in the corner of the tavern to the slender, raven-haired woman.
The delicate, lofty woman glances back to you, shrugging slightly.
The delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is not caring if all these ones are watching, friend Aja."
The slender, raven-haired woman grins and waves to the delicate, lofty woman as she watches.
Looking towards the corner, the chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"Hmm? Yes, you'd think I'd be told, hmm?"
With a tone of grave apology, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"My pardon, little one. I am so very out of practice... I shouldn't have let them distract me."
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
Curiously, the chubby, brown-haired man looks up at the brutish, red-eyed half-giant.
Shaking her head faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is needing no apology, friend Aja. I is having best time of life of mine."
Smiling as he nods, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:
"Hello."
The slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-
haired man, in sirihish:
"I fear we interrupted with our entrance."
The delicate, lofty woman gives you an affectionate peck on the cheek, nodding reassuringly to you.
Winking, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:
"We'd better go then."
Head tilting up, the slender, raven-haired woman looks up at the brutish, red-eyed half-giant.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman cracks a smile, nose grazing the delicate, lofty woman's hair while she chuckles and steps into an easy spin with her.
The brutish, red-eyed half-giant says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Hello Agent. I'm Morjadin."
The delicate, lofty woman's hands move over your body for a moment before finding their place at each hip.
With a teasing volume to her voice, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"I suppose they don't like the dance..."
To you, half-snorting, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is liking it, friend Aja."
The chubby, brown-haired man looks up at the delicate, lofty woman.
The chubby, brown-haired man looks at you.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman slows the spin as easily, laughter fond and returning her hands to the sides of the delicate, lofty woman's neck.
The chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Hmm...to many clothes."
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles, looking back to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant.
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman rolls her eyes skyward for a moment.
The chubby, brown-haired man says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:
"Ahh, good to see you."
The slender, raven-haired woman says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:
"Hey there Jadin! I haven't seen you since that day outside the Bazaar when I talked to you about the Fist. I was glad to hear you joined. "
(hemote) Sweat glistening at her skin, the ethereal, fair-haired woman gives her shoulder a subtle lift.
The slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"Be good. I still have fruit to pelt you with."
The loose shoulder to the ethereal, fair-haired woman's blouse slides down her neck, balancing precariously against her upper arm.
With a wide grin, his red eyes lighting up a bit, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Thanks! I like bein' seen too."
After a laugh, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:
"You know I can't be good."
The delicate, lofty woman rests her head against yours, murmuring softly.
His eyes settling on the slender, raven-haired woman for a long moment, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant asks the slender, raven-haired woman, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh, you the nice one that sent me to Sergeant Nora?"
Chuckling, the slender, raven-haired woman says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"I know. That's why I carry so much fruit."
The chubby, brown-haired man nudges the slender, raven-haired woman.
The delicate, lofty woman's hands glide up and down you as the two step back and forth, taking turns advancing in their twisting motion.
Nodding, the slender, raven-haired woman says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:
"That was me, although the Agent may disagree on the nice bit."
Softly, her dance a slow roll, an unhurried, patient movement against her, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"Shh..."
In amusement, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:
"Oh you're nice."
(hemote) The air in the tavern already heated, humid, the
ethereal, fair-haired woman's body is quite warm against the delicate, lofty woman's own.
Raising a brow, the slender, raven-haired woman asks the chubby, brown-haired man, in sirihish:
"I am?"
The chubby, brown-haired man asks, in sirihish:
"Well, let’s get going, hmm?"
The slender, raven-haired woman nods.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's chest is rising and falling irregularly, her breathing a quiet pant.
His eyes peering up as he rubs at his brow, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Oh. Well, thanks anyway, even if you are not nice. Sergeant Nora was good to me."
Smiling, the chubby, brown-haired man says to the slender, raven-haired woman, in sirihish:
"You always have fruit for me, so yes. Nice."
Smiling and waving to you and the delicate, lofty woman, the slender, raven-haired woman says, in sirihish:
"Have fun dancing."
The delicate, lofty woman's ruffled blue silk blouse flutters from side to side.
With a smile as she drags a hand down the delicate, lofty woman's arm, you look at the slender, raven-haired woman.
With a grin, the slender, raven-haired woman says to the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:
"I'm glad she was and you joined us."
Towards the pair dancing, the chubby, brown-haired man says, in sirihish:
"Less clothes means better tips."
You feel enraptured.
The chubby, brown-haired man chuckles.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman laughs, softly, sliding her hand around the delicate, lofty woman waist, again, letting it settle against the silk.
The delicate, lofty woman glances down to her tattooed arm.
Nodding, the chubby, brown-haired man asks the brutish, red-eyed half-giant, in sirihish:
"See you about, hmm?"
You contact the chubby, brown-haired man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the chubby, brown-haired man:
"*sensuous contentment shimmering across her thoughts* You are impossible, Brethel-da Kurac."
You dissolve the psychic link.
The chubby, brown-haired man moves towards the street, hand in hand with the slender, raven-haired woman.
With a polite nod, his eyes closing in his direction, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant says to the chubby, brown-haired man, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Alright then. Thanks."
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's glittering tattoos glisten with her coat of sweat. She drips from her chin.
Pale eyes refocusing on her face, softening, the ethereal, fair-haired woman cups the delicate, lofty woman's chin between a few gloved fingers.
Body slowing, stilling, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"You should rest, little one. You don't care for yourself..."
(hemote) A few drops of sweat roll down the ethereal, fair-haired woman's neck, disappearing beneath your loose-cut white linen blouse.
Stopping, her eyes wandering over you without her chin moving, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is fine, friend Aja."
The stout, crook-nosed man has arrived from the west.
Soothingly, giving a protective squeeze of her other arm, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"There will always be time for another dance. Let me find you a drink of water, hm?"
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's cheeks begin to glow in a blush.
Dancing to a sensuous and silent melody, the ethereal, fair-haired woman holds close to the delicate, lofty woman, one hand cupping her chin.
The stout, crook-nosed man sits at a curved, agafari bar.
The robust, head-shaven man trades a red-striped granite tankard to the stout, crook-nosed man.
You feel like this girl is going to faint away if she isn't careful.
Following along, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is wanting to kiss you, friend Aja. I is too hot to not."
The delicate, lofty woman stares at you with a serious expression, the fingers of her hand curling over your cheek.
Apology in her pale eyes, along with understanding before she lowers them, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"I... can't, Ilune..."
His brow furrowing as he suddenly straightens, the brutish, red-eyed half-giant grumbles under his breath, shaking his head slowly as he lumbers off.
Gently, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"... Forgive me..."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman leans, just a little, into the delicate, lofty woman's hand.
Nodding faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is forgiving of you, friend Aja."
Smiling faintly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Perhaps next time us is dancing, friend Aja."
With a strained laugh, nose brushing her temple, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"You don't... It is a... long story. A custom of mine."
With a soft breath that ruffles the delicate, lofty woman's hair, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"I don't take favorites..."
Laughing softly, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is wanting to hear story of yours, friend Aja.
Perhaps next time, when us is not dancing."
With a grave nod, pale eyes fond, you whisper to the delicate, lofty woman in sirihish:
"... Next time. When you are not getting something to drink."
The stout, crook-nosed man looks around a curved, agafari bar, then to the doorway.
The ethereal, fair-haired woman gives the delicate, lofty woman's face a fond brush, again, before pulling back her hands, slowly.
Regret plain in her eyes, the delicate, lofty woman whispers to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is meaning to ask of your story, friend Aja. I is curious where you has learned instruments of yours."
You think:
"I'm too old for this."
The delicate, lofty woman drops her hands from you casually.
Looking over her, clearing her voice as she lifts it, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"I might well ask you the same question. For my part, I am... Circle-born."
(hemote) No small amount of tension lingers in the ethereal, fair-haired woman's slender body, even after the dance has ended.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's hand fidgets restlessly at her side, her eyes on you.
Sliding it free, frowning a little, you get your leather waterskin from your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
With a tone of practiced ease, pushing the skin into her hand, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"You will take at least a drink of this. Chaska would never forgive me if I let you faint away here."
To you, her hand on her cheek, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is wanting to talk more about story of yours, friend Aja. I is not having time today. I hope I is able soon."
You give your leather waterskin to the delicate, lofty woman.
The delicate, lofty woman accepts her leather waterskin with a polite smile.
Her eyes on you, the delicate, lofty woman drinks water from her leather waterskin.
With a deep nod, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"If you wish, and only if you will share yours as well. I do not think mine is as of as much interest."
(hemote) The ethereal, fair-haired woman's breathing slowly calms, steadying.
You notice: The delicate, lofty woman's green eyes wander over you thoughtfully.
Hair clinging to her sweat-streaked skin, the ethereal, fair-haired woman gathers the tangled strands in one hand, lifting them away from her neck.
To you, a hand on her slowly recovering chest, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is so happy to. I is looking forward to this story of us, friend Aja."
Handing it back with a warm smile, the delicate, lofty woman gives you her leather waterskin.
Watching her before mirroring the gesture, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"Until next time, Ilune? His Light watch over you. And thank you for the dance."
With a look of quiet relief, you sip from your leather waterskin.
To you as she steps close, patting your shoulder, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is liking you very much, friend Aja. I is definitely reconsidering Jhalav ways of mine so I can share with us story of us."
You think:
"Story of us. Oh, for pity's sake, Aja. What are you doing?"
The delicate, lofty woman turns to the side and steps past you, a pleased smile on her face as she drifts into the crowd.
With a hint of a smile and touching her free hand to her own, you say to the delicate, lofty woman, in sirihish:
"I'd be honored if you would... but I would not pry."
The ethereal, fair-haired woman watches after the delicate, lofty woman before letting out a wry chuckle.
You think:
"I'm far, far too old for this."
Over her shoulder, the delicate, lofty woman says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"I is offering, friend Aja."
With a lingering smile, you put your leather waterskin into your leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.
The delicate, lofty woman takes two steps backward, her eyes on you, then turns around and enters the crowd.
The delicate, lofty woman has departed from the land of Zalanthas.