The Hounds Calling

Sonya held the reins loosely in a hand as the large steed steadily clopped down the beaten path. Artax was moving slow today, the weight of the wagon carting her things made the trek to the temple more taxing than their usual journeys together. She’d hardly noticed the lushness of the Jade Forest. The warms skies overhead hanging empty, absent of clouds or the songs sang by the exotic birds within the looming trees. Her thoughts were elsewhere, drowned in a sea of anger and disappointment.

 She’d been foolish with her affections. Again. How many times was she destined to keep making the same mistakes? Why did she always find such interest in the emotionally unavailable? She wondered. The night before she left. The evening she’d boarded the boat to leave on her mission. She’d sat with James, hoping to make amends for the trouble she’d caused him. He repayed her with what she took as honesty. The truth about the man she’d felt herself falling for. And damn if it didn’t hurt.

 Now she rode with contempt on her shoulders and acid on her tongue with no one to spill it to. She grit her teeth as the home of the collective began to rise up over the horizon. Whatever. She had a job to do. Dawson had given her clear instructions on how to handle this lot and what was expected of her. She wouldn’t let her scorn fog her sense of duty. Eli and James wouldn’t even be a footnote in this operation report as they no longer mattered. Her focus was now set on Desmond Slade and the collective.

 “Integrity first. Service before self. Excellence in all we do. For in our darkest hour, all that is heard is the call of the Raven.” She quoted quietly, just as the gates of the temple stood tall before her.

Wylark Grindelwald 

First and foremost. Caterina and Wylark have this very deep and genuine connection that makes her very vulnerable and soft in his presence. He makes her very truthful, and honest with herself. She is attracted to his silent bad-boy type. He’s this mysterious gentlemanly Gilnean that can be just as cold hearted as any criminal, and he’s lost between the past, drugs, and almost goes through the motion of each day. She thinks he’s a very beautiful man, right down to his core. The way he looks at her with such tender and honest eyes, and notices little things about her. The way he admires something as simple as her smoking, and thinks she’s perfection for it. It’s so honest. This all just sort of happened over time and the way he handled her in certain situations. Caterina has very strong feelings for him, but it doesn’t go past an emotional care and soft looks. Sometimes he’ll light a cigarette for her, or escort her home when Braxton still has business to attend to but she’s sleepy. For the most part, though, they don’t seek alone time in fear it’d be suspicious.

 At the end of the day, she is selfish, self-preserving Caterina Primrose and she knows that if she got caught, Braxton would kill her.  She wouldn’t risk her situation with Braxton like that for anything - as much as I’d love to see her in a healthy, loving relationship, it’s not in her character, currently.

Lukas Drake 

 This man is very passionately in love with Caterina and recently admitted it to her. Lukas would catch her eye due to his artistic talent and creativity, humor, and good looks. She’s more sexually attracted to him, but from the one on one interactions, she’d be attracted to his passion for her. He’s so fierce about the way he wants to have and take care of her. 

 More than that, if Caterina had the opportunity to go after a man more powerful than Braxton, should Braxton rid himself of her, she’d go after anyone who she believes can give her what she wants. 

It’s hard to break bad habits.

mentions: 

@braxtonhudson

@thehoundmaster

“When role-playing in a certain game or universe, it is crucial that you follow the canonical story when applying your character to said lore.” 

Like, by this dickpimple’s own logic, no character is ever allowed to be in a bar and flirt, because according to the canon story, we are all off fighting the Legion. All of us.

After a long and in depth conversation on Skype with the leader and officers of Hudson’s Shipping Company, Quillys, two neutral parties who GM their own guild, one of my officers and a friend who was there to tell me to calm down when I was being unreasonable on certain points (and did just that), an OOC understanding has come into play.

My last post that I referenced to being deleted because of the retcon initiated by other parties will remain deleted and Anna’s reaction will remain retconned, as the RP remains retconned.

I am deleting my last post on account of people ret-conning a roleplay.

“I would never assume to tell someone where they could and could not stand.”

Those were the opening words to the most terrifying moment in Quillys’s life. She had faced down a sociopath who had every intent of killing her and this sense of dread dwarfed that horror ten fold. For now she was in the presence of Braxton Hudson and his associates were in toe. Quillys didn’t know them all by name, but each and every one of them had an energy about them that demanded an air of caution, respect.

The first thing that Quillys would notice about Mr. Hudson was his charismatic nature. He held himself with such a degree of class, of sophistication that it was hard not to be drawn in when he spoke. His words were like velvet on the ear. The way he seemed to actually take interest in what Quillys had to say…it was hard to tell if the man was being sincere or not. Perhaps that was just part of Mr. Hudson’s many talents. She had observed him converse on matters of business and the man was nothing short of charming…but something about him raised her hackles.

She couldn’t explain it, could never quite put her finger on it. Perhaps it was something in the man’s gaze, that understanding that in all matters he would often be the one ahead. As much as Quillys would have adored the chance to study the man, this was hardly the time to do it, for the man had started to speak again and in this engagement she wished to keep up, to at least match the man blow for blow…verbally speaking at least.

Their conversation was a strange one. Mr. Hudson spoke of the sea and the ships that roamed them like graceful titans. Quillys spoke of the stars, solace, and the desire to be alone with her confessor…the heavens above. There would be a certain level of flattery, an expression or two of praise, but the woman had to wonder how much of it was real.

Quillys felt as though she was standing upon the gallows, a noose already firmly around her neck and she was simply sharing a few kind words with her executioner before the stool was kicked away. This whole time, Quillys expected the drop, but it didn't’ come. Instead it felt as though was being granted a pardon as more pleasantries were exchanged and soon Quillys found herself stepping off into the night.

For the moment…she believed she was safe, not realizing the noose was still firmly around her neck and the drop was indeed coming.

((So I greatly regret not taking screenshots of this rp, I would have loved to have shared some of the back and forth between Braxton and Quillys as it was very artistic and enjoyable. I wish i could share that sense of dread that my character was feeling in that moment, during the whole event my hands were ice cold. A huge shout and thank you to Mr. Hudson and his crew for a fantastic night of rp, it’s not one i shall soon forget, most post from this night are coming.))

@braxtonhudson

@everythingisbetterwithpirates

@thehoundmaster

@zouriankraft

@caterinaprimrose

The warmth felt in this moment was enough to lull the sleepy Siren back into a slumber, suddenly very unconcerned with the weight pressing down on the dip of her waist. Alas the pressure against her lips was nothing to ignore, and surely had startled her in the beginning as it didn’t immediately register who had claimed her their own.

Peeking an eye open would this single gray iris eagerly inspect her captor, the hum of amusement on her tone masked by grogginess, her head falling backward deeper into the pillows as to be able to speak without muffling her words against the kaldorei’s flesh, “If'n this’s how yah’ wake me e'ery mornin’, I should keep m’ front door unlocked e'ery night…”

With a careful motions had the human rolled around so her body was pressed into the illidari’s, lips eager to pepper the woman’s neck in nibbles and kisses of minor affection. Goosebumps and butterflies… Her head was spinning in excitement, swimming blissfully with the fresh memories of the night prior.

The evidence of the transpires resided in the piles of lazily discarded clothing littering around the Siren’s bedroom. Sin was surely written into the foundations, and the Siren was shameless in the regards.

~ @shailae , @edelira

Whether or not Siren took much notice of the finer details of Edelira’s body the night before, every scar and imperfection would likely be quite noticeable to the woman. The tattoos that glowed a soft purple would also prove to be a form of scar, raised slightly from her skin and the colour of it coming more from the glow then any actual ink.

She let out a heavy sigh and reached down, almost uncermoniously groping at the human’s rear and pulling her up to face level with herself with a laugh and giving her another kiss on the lips, and as she pulled her lips free she said in an almost relieved tone “It’s been too long since I’ve been able to truly enjoy another woman, so this was a pleasant surprise.”

[ @emily-r-oswan ]

The pressure from their bodies pushing together would warrant a flinch and hiss from the human, her wounds still fresh from prior events. Though after a moment of remaining in her companion’s arms would the ache dull. The longer Lira kept her hold the more comfortable Siren became, practically melting against her counterpart, pain replaced by pleasure, with casual sweet nothings to be whispered into the illidari’s ear.

Her legs would tangle and curl around the elf’s, her fingers and palms lacking regard for the opposing woman’s personal bubble- which might as well not exist at all, with their current situation- as they’d begun to explore the plenty imperfections littering her body. Groping, squeezing, grazing. All in the sake of exploring, of course (*cue innocent smile*).

Siren found them to be badges of honor and heroism, bravery imprinted on the body, a past written in the skin. She was so opened minded in the regards based on her own couple of flaws- alas most of her scars were hidden, written over by ink in the form of tattoos.

Though in terms of Lira… Her scars were beautiful. And each little flaw would earn a kiss from the rogue, a trail of pecks leading all the way from her bosom, up her neck and over her jaw. At the end of the journey would Siren’s lips eagerly press into the elf’s, a firm kiss expressing infatuation and all around minor affection. Towards the end Siren had grown bold enough to latch onto the woman’s bottom lip and tug it in a rough dosage of play. The impish grin returned.