~ You Are Invited ~ [Updated]

[Divine Drivel]

Since this will be my first foray into forum RP, I chose the current book I've been enjoying for the past few months as an inspiration.

Quoting my answer to one of the questions during my application process:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Here's a question: If you could live in any fictional universe which would it be and why?

I would choose to live inside the George R.R. Martin's plot in the Game of Thrones. After reading 4 books and watching the first season on HBO, I was hooked.

This fictional universe has all the elements I would love to explore. From the endless political conflicts, the exhausting social maneuvers between its characters and the epic battles between warriors. It's also darkly romantic, in a sense. Ladies are treated the way they should be and they live in a world where the men fight their wars while the women choose a more subtle way to fight their own battles. And who could resist a knight in shining armor?

Another lure for me is the forgotten art of the olden times such as handwritten letters, the primitive living conditions and the dress codes. We now live in a world that has almost wiped any distinction between the sexes with both genders competing in the same field, putting on the same clothes and walking side by side the political arena. This doesn't mean I don't respect progress and everything that comes with it including women's rights but I simply feel that the pleasant fiction the author created could at least bring back the things I wish to experience again.

Looking for:
1. Male who will play a Dornish Prince [Must be familiar with people of the Sunspear and their customs].
2. Open to both F/M writers but typist must create a very strong male character.


Please send PM if you have questions or if the idea appeals to you.

Thanks.

TAKEN

Post Reserved for random updates regarding the plot.

[Divine Drivel]

[BON/NC/Dom/D/s]

LOOKING FOR:
Male player to play Jareem

Send PM if interested

TAKEN

Lisa Gerrard - Serenity

CHIMERA - A PROLOGUE

THE SUMMONING
(Jareem)

It was a mild afternoon when the guardsman came and approached Yalena. The scenery had begun to darken as thick, spongy clouds swirled in a maelstrom of antagonistic magnitude and threatened to dampen the river town beneath its prevailing, menacing bulk.

She seemed occupied serving a stout but richly clad tradesman and he recognized her from the description given to him by his employer, who had exotic tastes. Just as the girl was about to receive a palm print on her rear from the the pudgy hands of the opulent guest, the guard intervened, much to the annoyance of the the merchant. But the glance he gave brooked no quarrel, and he ushered the girl to a quiet booth.

He was not particularly bright, but a sturdy warrior and loyal to a fault. He had the countenance of a grizzled, hardened man and bore a thin, silvery scar from top lip to bottom. He wore an armor of brown leather as a breastplate adorned with studs and a knee-high kilt of matching material, and a vicious-looking curved blade rested by his hip. He had his instructions written down and as he cleared his throat, he unraveled the thin parchment.

“You have been summoned to the tent of Master Jareem, whose eye you caught while enjoying the festivities during the weekend. He leaves tomorrow and for this evening, would enjoy sampling the prowess and company of the famed entertainer of Port Drammed before his departure. Your owner will be substantially compensated upon your return. If you require time for preparation, your escort will wait at the steps of the tavern, but there are amenities at the camp –just outside the walls of the city- at your disposal to bathe and dress. He shall expect you within two hours.”

When he had finished, he tucked the paper back into his tunic and folded his muscular arms against his burly chest. Brown locks of hair swayed as he turned his face in the direction of the window and he added, “But, you had best hurry, if you wish to miss the rain.”


THE ACQUIESENCE
(Yalena)

The rich merchant, albeit intoxicated, had been a rather prolific company. But the stench of his breath made her want to cringe for he has been consuming copious amounts of intoxicating brew and only her rigid training has stopped her index finger from brushing her nostrils. Sometimes, she would hold her breath as the man's spittle flew from his mouth while gesticulating animatedly about the many adventuress he has had in the past moons.

Yalena was known for her tongue, its sharp overtures and wit was legendary. At one point, the robust man sitting with her was seen throwing his head back to guffaw at one of her retorts and in his mirth, raised a palm with the intention of landing his paw with a loud smack on her derriere.

But the sound of flesh hitting her generous rump never came. Instead, a shadow painted itself across the table and danced over the low bowl and a heaping plates of food. Her head swiveled and her chin raised itself until her eyes found the stoic guard holding Kadir's wrist.

The girl watched the unspoken exchange between the two men. The merchant's eyebrows wrinkled over a hazy pair of eyes while the guard's gnarly fingers stayed locked over the man's meaty limb. The wrist became limp and she could only murmur a hasty goodbye while the stern  figure lead her away.

Her steady footsteps marched quietly after those of the guard's thudding boots and when it stopped, she stood and waited. She cleared her throat delicately and the sound of parchment paper interrupted what was supposed to be her greeting. While his low baritone read the message, the girl's  face remained pleasantly attentive, her lashes falling in rhythmic cadence over her pool of washed out green eyes.

For those looking at the exchange between the guard and Yalena, they would see the curve of the girl's nape as she dipped her head in acquiescence. Shortly after, the guard would flick his wrist in casual dismissal.

Not long afterwards, she would be seen standing at the steps not too far from the tavern. As the sky rumbled like an angry beast, the clouds would swirl before releasing a mild downpour. She blinked rapidly as she offered her face to the rain.


(THE RAIN)
(Jareem)

Through the haze of the raindrops plummeting down, the guardsman emerged, wearing a drenched traveling cloak over the leather attire he wore. He gave the girl a momentary glance from head to toe and grasped her strongly by the wrist. “Come”.

And, so it was, that she was led by her escort along the almost abandoned streets. The odd obscure figure could be seen dashing for cover, while merchants protected their wares and  hurriedly packed. They passed one overturned cart that had tumbled over in the chaos and a birth of fresh dates were strewn across the cobbled lane. Pulp and mash from being trodden underfoot and the oozing juices mixed with the downpour of rain drew a scene of fruity carnage.

The banks of the River Kahl were swollen with its deposit from the storm and as they made for the gate, a loud clap of thunder held the town in its raucous grasp and a jagged trident of lightning shot out from the clouds with the alacrity of a viper striking its prey.

The camp was an assortment of wagons and trailers from several merchants, and a corral had been erected to house the mounts. One of the beasts neighed as the two walked past, while the enclosure that also served as a shelter, was inhabited by two of the animals munching on grass, oblivious to the dripping figures that scurried by.

The flap of the tent was pulled aside and they entered. There were many sections of the makeshift home, each separate and offered its own privacy. The initial room seemed like a place for greeting and relaxation for guests . It was conservatively decorated and a low, round table dominated the centre surrounded by several plush cushions. Underfoot, a multitude of rugs and carpets layered the floor. She was directed through into another room where the guardsman would go no further. “Wait in there.” He said and disappeared the way he came.

This new room was more elaborately and richly swathed with finer drapes that festooned the walls of the tent. It was lit by a single lamp that pulsed and flickered and it gave a warm, soothing glow. Several large pelts of animals littered the floor, leaving not a spot uncovered, giving the slave girl’s feet a soft and luxurious flooring to tread upon. A semi-circular wooden tub was half full with water and a towel had been draped neatly over the edge.

Moments later, a slave entered carrying a bucket and walked right by the drenched Yalena. She was nondescript and wore a simple grey shift, and her dark hair had been tied back in a ponytail. The bucket’s contents were emptied into the bath with a resounding splash. “Your feet are muddied. Please, clean up. I have been instructed to aid you, should you require anything. There is an assortment of clothing, and even scents, you may wear. What can I fetch you?” The slave’s voice barely heard over the hammering of raindrops on the canopy above them. She flinched and gave a fearful look as another roar of thunder resonated throughout the relative safety of the tent.

THE BATH
(Yalena)

She left tiny droplets dotting the plush rugs as she was lead inside the tent and gave no appearance of being fazed by the opulence revealed by each succeeding curtain prodded open by the guard's hand. She has served a powerhouse list of important figures under the Sultan's great city and was therefore used to the luxurious and sometimes quirky ways of the rich and powerful.

Her posture betrayed her bedraggled appearance for she maintained her graceful countenance despite the fact that her damp hair and clothing were clinging to her like a jealous lover. Rivulets of water could be seen sluicing from the tips of her dark tresses, dancing over her skin before they vanish to pool around her bare feet. Through it all, she remained calm and serene; curious even. Her cheeks were also tinged with anticipation.

The guard left her standing in the middle of a richly appointed room, with bathing provisions carefully laid out in one corner. Before long, a slave joined her and was caught feasting her eyes on the vibrant colors around her.

"I don't need anything else. Thank you", was all she said to the nondescript slave who has been sent to assist her. And then, she was alone again.

Her fingers curled and hooked themselves on the shoulder strap that kept her garment and slowly, she lets the silken fabric descend over the slope of her shoulder and down to her arms until there's nothing that covered her but the flush of crimson on her skin. Next to come off were the trinkets adorning her ears, arms and ankles. The clinking of precious metals embedded with equally valuable stones was magnified by the eerie silence that enveloped the tent. She suspects that not a lot of people were inside or, the Master who rules the swathed empire isn't too keen on idle chatter.

The last item of clothing to leave her body was the silks embracing her hips and as her derriere swayed from side to side, she bent her torso to push the gossamer fabric and delicate chains downwards to let them rest around her ankles. When she straightened back to her full height, only the landscape of a well proportioned body remained.

A lazy smiled played upon her lips while she sauntered towards the tub. And as the embrace of warm water enveloped her lithe figure, she anchored the back of her head on one end of the bathing vessel.. closing her eyes and hoping against hope that the man who summoned her would at least have all his teeth intact. The slave girl's face became wreathed in secret amusement and as night fell and swallowed the fiery colors of the tent.

THE SPY
(Jareem)

The slave girl seemed deflated that she was no longer needed, for she loved to gossip. She was privy to information that this new girl was not, whether it was who exactly she would be entertaining for the night or the size of the Master’s weapon. Both, she would discover for herself. The slave departed, clutching the handle of the empty bucket that swayed back and forth as she sauntered along the fur and out through the flap.

Jareem’s blue eyes peered through the tiny slit in the fabric and observed. The viewing angle from this position gave him a scope of focus that spied the slave girl’s backside as she bent over and caught the peaks and valleys that made up the lush curves so inviting to one's sight. Yet, he could see nothing of her front, but from appearances, he had chosen well. She seemed slight but shapely and the tanned color of her skin was pleasing. His plan to wait till she had re-dressed evaporated like the rise of steam from the bath and so the man whose pleasure she had been summoned for, decided to pay the bathing beauty a visit.

It was when Yalena’s eyes were closed and her head tilted back that he entered silently. The steady patter of rain masked the sound of his long robe brushing the tips of the animal fur beneath it and when he stood behind her, he placed the bath towel over her face, covering her forehead and eyes while leaving her nostrils and mouth uncovered. Then, he draped his powerful hands over her shoulders and applied a gentle pressure. “What is your name?”

The voice that spoke was low and the deep timbre sounded slightly distorted from the constant rain drops thrumming a frantic rhythm above them. His keen gaze rested upon her lips and before they opened to respond, he bent over and held his face above hers. The fringes of his dark, shoulder length hair teased her jaw as he pressed his mouth to hers, yet he did not kiss her, merely rubbed his lips from left to right to enjoy the delicate texture of her mouth.

THE MEETING
(Yalena)

The sky began to release its torrential fury and she was grateful for the humdrum, welcoming the rain's persistent march over the huge tarpaulin sheltering its inhabitants from nature's tantrum. With her long, tapered fingers curled over both sides of the tub, her lashes made a leisurely glide towards her lower lids. Thoughts swirled inside her head like the howling wind doing its best to pummel its invisible fists against the sides of the sturdy tent.

He will come. It was inevitable.

And when he did, his furtive entrance afforded him a glimpse of her most vulnerable state; gloriously naked and blissfully unaware of his presence. Her face was a landscape of peaceful oblivion until the weight of the thick towel descended over her eyes. She didn't struggle. She was ready for him. Ready to lend a stalwart facade to her composure despite the man's intent to reveal himself at a glacial pace.

She heard him ask for her name, in a deep baritone that fought its way to her ears amidst the loud clamor of furious rain battering the tarpaulin. But she felt him looming over her, the scent of barely leashed strength making her breath hitch. She needed air so  she inhaled the essence of a man who hampered her speech in the form of his mouth hovering so close to the soft pillows of her own. And when he began to lightly polish her lips with exquisite slowness, the placid water was disturbed by a slight thrust of her hips.

Yalena groped her way into molding the shape of the faceless man by lifting her right hand, letting water cascade over the glistening skin of her forearm until she found the slope between his shoulder and his neck. The pads of her fingers skimmed the side of his neck until her palm found its niche over his nape, just below his hairline and as if she was drowning from his silent assault, she clung to him.

In the dimly lit room, the throbbing flame from the single lamp mimicked the dense atmosphere. Palpable tension hummed and increased with every glide of his lips over hers.  A loud crack of thunder was followed by a flash of lightning. The latter caught the shadow of an almost kiss and masculine hands cradling both sides of the girl's head.

Then, the man heard her speak for the first time.

"My name is Yalena".

[Divine Drivel]

Updated: New plot

[Divine Drivel]

All cravings are being satisfied at the moment  ;)

Will update soon.