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A Trifle Bazaar; Celebratory Reopening of the Grand Bazaar
Tweet Topic Started: Feb 12 2017, 02:26 AM (414 Views)
Ariel Feb 12 2017, 02:26 AM Post #1
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Valencia, the Fifth Age
January 4th, 5,850


The Red Dragon


Valencia’s Prince of Parties lived up to his reputation on a regular basis, huge celebratory events prepared for every public holiday with nearly each major opportunity seized upon for revelry. Today was no different, as the official seasonal reopening of the Grand Bazaar would last for its entirety, and had drawn a wide variety from the tourists wandering the streets in small groups, to local commoners from all over the city, even a handful of nobles with their noses in the air could be seen among the crowds. While this was a blessing for the city’s merchants, it was quite another headache for anyone trying to navigate Valencia’s main thoroughfares on the lower levels.

Located on the first tier of the many-leveled Imperial city, the Grand Bazaar was the City of Peace’s predominant trade district; so long as the wares you needed were legal, it was likely you would find them there. An entire section of the city, the streets were wide enough to accommodate the passage of three carriages abreast, yet filled by visitors walking on foot and the occasional supply wagon attempting to navigate the hubbub. Lining the pathways on either side, vendor stalls crowded for display space and the best vantage points from which to hawk their wares or advertise games of chance, of skill; the calls of many a salesman followed those that passed by their tables. More permanent structures loomed overhead and behind, storerooms and various emporiums that stood several stories into the air. Stretched between them hung large banners painted or dyed in bright colors, scrawled with advertisements or welcoming well-wishes.

Silken streamers and balloons danced in the crisp winter air, undaunted by the chill lingering among the buildings and shaded alleyways. The sun made a valiant attempt, but its warmth had naught the strength to reach the Last God’s creations below its heavenly perch as it slowly drifted along the horizon. To compensate for this, Valencia’s best engineers had installed tall, elegant fixtures at regular intervals. A sphere-shaped collection of Dragonsblood cores at the top of these slender rods radiated the heat of their operation down onto the festival-goers, and though their glow was mild in the broad light of day, once darkness descended on the city they would double as sources of illumination. It was clear just how far the reach of their warmth stretched, for overhead beyond the cone that captured and redirected their warmth, frost collected on the side of stone buildings where long icicles had not already formed. Though snow had not yet succeeded in blanketing the rooftops, there was little doubt it would stay away for much longer.

Down on street-level where the river of people flowed like the currents of fast-moving streams, the temperature was pleasant albeit far from a balmy summer day. This was most evident in the frequently skimpy costumes donned by street performers, around which the tide of partiers would stall to watch in loose halos. More common were long-sleeves and skirts, or thick trousers, though the noble tendency toward voyeuristic near-nudity as a fashion trend was not absent either. The air was filled with the sound of laughing children, loud conversations, and barking vendors fighting over the crackle of sizzling meat and jingling bells; the spicy smells of warm cider, seasonal baked goods, and chocolate sweets promised a wealth of available food and drink. Further toward the center, cheerful, live music was an invitation to dance that many had already taken as evidenced by the moving circle of folk-dancing couples that dominated the space, though several taverns along the way offered similar opportunities on a smaller, more private scale.

The Red Dragon herself was in attendance that afternoon, released from her responsibilities for a few hours and unable to resist the call of the celebration. There was something nice about strolling among the peasants, for their gatherings always seemed more lively and somehow more honest, absent all the political maneuvering that would no doubt be present at Alyxandaer’s shindig planned for the next night. It grew tiring to put on airs, to guard your words as though any slip-up might hand your enemy the dagger that would slit your throat. But here, amongst the Empire’s people? Saerelith felt as near to free as one might wearing the cloak of the her station, an item few failed to recognize in the sea of living beings that parted wordlessly before her, wise to avoid her ire.

She had chosen a dress of fine red silk that fell from an empire waist in flattering ruffles, belted by a amber-dyed band. Falsely sleeveless, mesh material covered her long sleeves in translucent crimson on which fine details had been stitched in complementary goldthread to form the pattern of a phoenix with wings outstretched on her breast. Her boots were black leather of fine, supple quality, more practical for walking the cobblestone streets comfortably, a gentle click of her lifted heels accompanying her walk down the packed road. No heavy trinkets or baubles accented her outfit this time around, only the billowing faux-feathers of the distinct cloak draped over her shoulders, the deep hood of which had been drawn up to frame her face and ward off the cooler breeze. Rosy cheeks and the pink shade on the tip of her nose were evidence of a walk from the Timeless Keep through areas of the city less populated by heat-lamps, but her expression held the determination of a woman on a mission.
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Ternunda Hunter Feb 12 2017, 06:02 AM Post #2
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The best thing about events like the reopening of the Grand Bazaar were that Ravensguard could move without even having to try being unseen. It was easy. Step left there and go around a person here… Or sink into a crowd of loud, excitable idiots. Whenever working for an event like this, Vincent stuck to the walls and rooftops, though - cold and drafty as they may be away from the heaters. But, lucky for him, Vincent wasn’t actually working that night. He did hope, however, he wouldn’t see anyone he was supposed to care about knowing. Relationships had been forged and he had to smile upon meeting them as he played the part of a polite noble wading through life on money he did not earn or need.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been given a personal day or night… Though, that was mostly because of his own habits and less because of his superiors. Whenever he wasn’t working he was training, so he chose to go ahead and work anyway. There was too much to do and too many people to follow or watch to be sitting around attending Grand Bazaar reopenings. Still, he looked forward to the chance to dance and eat without judging every person based on general capability, threat level, and watching for any clues that they weren’t really who they said they were.

Vincent didn’t have anyone to go with, not for years now. So, he went alone, like he did for any event he actually attended, found partners to dance with, and stood alone when he was tired of interacting with people. Okay, perhaps he was being a bit chilly. He did, at least, take the time to make sure he looked the part. Blending in was a part of his job and looking grim, as he may have decided to feel that day, would not help anyone. He was dressed in simple but flattering clothes. He had on black trousers and a cream colored tunic with belts and straps of dark cured leather crossing his chest and waist. Silver buckles and rivets spotted the rich browns; it was all strategic, of course. He always carried his daggers with him. He didn’t have to, but actually using real weapons was much less concerning than wielding the dark like it was forged for days in the finest smithy.

His dark brown curls were a bit messy from dodging overly excited men and women hurriedly prancing to the next stall or display. As was practice, he smiled politely to those who crossed his path if they chanced a glance up his tall frame to a handsome face with enough scruff to tell he found it more a chore than a necessity to shave. Blue eyes deep as the color of the ocean at night settled under naturally trim brows, but they never seemed to really look at any particular person. Vincent always looked like he was in a bit of a trance; glazed over and incredibly impartial. Whether that was just his naturally ‘sunny’ disposition or because of something he’d seen or been thinking about was yet to be determined.

Finally, though, after agile steps maneuvered him around inattentive or drunk attendants, he made it to where he really wanted to go. His gaze actually focused and settled on a group of about a dozen men and women dancing with each other to a traditional folk song with a typical 3-step pacing. But, he could feel the song coming to an end… And that was his cue to get himself into the mess that was exiting and entering dancers all giggling and huffing like they’d just ran miles.

With quick, smooth few steps, he slid into position, taking the place of a couple. He was immediately partnered with a peasant woman wearing a flowery bodice and skirt all the way down to her ankles. She had pretty blonde hair and dull grey eyes.. But, to be truthful, he didn’t see her. As he danced his eyes glazed over like they always did. He stared through her and the rest of the people around him as he moved, focusing on the song and every exact movement of his body. Dancing was wonderful practice. This song was in 4. He extended an arm out to her to start, making a point to keep up with the fast pace of the song. They went on for awhile in a flurry of spins and occasional lifts. She wasn’t a small woman but he wasn’t a weak man, either.

As the song started to slow to an end, and as he started his finishing spin, his eyes landed on a particularly beautiful creature forging a path of fire through the horde; aimed right for the crowd of dancing bodies. He knew exactly who she was, but he’d never had the chance to speak with her… nor did he make it a point to do so. Surely Harlan would be terribly upset with him for mingling with a dragon. Being seen with her was the exact opposite of keeping a low profile. But, he also never expected a situation like the one about to arrive would ever have happened… And that was infuriating.

The woman left him after he bowed to her. It seemed the Red Dragon had two choices: take the vacant spot with Vincent or wait until the starting song ended to get in. His eyes settled on her with his right hand behind his back in preparation for the coming song: a faster tempoed song in 4 with a heavy emphasis on every other beat… It was a beautiful song. Haunting, even. He made no effort to wave her over nor even offer the spot. If she wanted to dance she would do so, he knew that much… But his eyes were unusually intensely trained on her own amber ones. He’d fully accepted the fact he might not have been able to dance for the tune at all. So, he waited while the band worked on their intro, completely stilled.
Edited by Ternunda Hunter, Feb 12 2017, 06:12 AM.
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Ariel Feb 12 2017, 07:21 AM Post #3
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The Red Dragon

By the song that caught her ears over the din of the crowd, she knew two things immediately despite the distance yet between them: that the song was soon due to end, and that she was on the right path. Though the buildings themselves never moved, the locations of certain events involved with the Reopening Night tended to change from year to year, but Saerelith followed the sound of the music like a shark hunting the scent of blood; around her, the revelers varied in status, but all gave the tall woman a cautious berth reminiscent of a school of fish. It suited her fine that the people kept their distance, and the eyes glued to her in passing failed to inspire interest. She had long since grown accustomed to their attention, for better or for worse. The Cloak came with a certain notoriety that she had once been extremely proud of, felt entirely deserving of for her feats, but as of late the attention was naught but a minor irritant. The people were little more than faces she remained aware of on the edge of her consciousness as they moved aside with a short bow or a wide-eyed, startled scuttle.

As the musicians wound down through the final few notes, the Red Dragon came upon the outer ring of observers huddled just of the edge of the space occupied by dancers themselves. For the most part, those with their backs to her remained ignorant of her presence while the music came to a stop, erupting in cheers alongside much of the audience not themselves gulping for air like fish out of water on the dancefloor. Saerelith let her eerie eyes drift lazily over the dancers with one hand propped idly on one hip as participants began either to throw in the proverbial towel and make space for newcomers, or quickly switch partners in accordance with tradition. There seemed to be attendants from every end of the social spectrum that paired themselves off together; Saerelith’s lips twitched in a brief smile at a particularly odd couple before her gaze fell on a man whose partner had only just left.

There her impassive stare lingered for half a heart-beat longer than necessary on his bowed form, taking only a quick skim of his appearance to create an early assessment. Handsome was an understatement as his face turned toward her, but beauty was common among those of Ascendant heritage; by his fine features and tall stature, there could be no doubt blue blood flowed in his veins. The outfit he wore reinforced this initial impression, not lacking for quality nor cut by the way it fit him just so. Saerelith decided she did not know him at a glance, but the nobility numbered so many that it was near impossible to remember them all by face alone.

His eyes met her own, and when they did not immediately dart elsewhere in search of safer territory, the Red Dragon regarded him with the rise of a sculpted brow and the subtle cant of her head. That reaction alone piqued her curiosity and warranted her continued attention, for rare was the individual who did not immediately defer. When the empty space before him did not immediately fill, Saerelith considered the opportunity that presented itself only for a split second. A lilting vocal harmony gradually grew from on stage, signaling the start of the next song with a stirring melody and informing her that time had run out. With the gentle nod of her head as if to say very well, let’s roll the dice, she closed the distance between them to place herself in that vacant spot and lifted one bare hand to push back the hood of her fluttering cloak to her shoulders. Russet brown hair cut to fall mid-neck had been mildly tousled by the journey hidden within beneath her hood, but moved in loose waves as the woman bowed in a small curtsey to mirror the other pairs around on either side. Brushing aside the strands of her bangs that invaded her vision as she stood straight once more, she offered him a polite albeit slightly stiff-lipped smile that seemed to communicate she had not yet completed her full evaluation of him, but was content to observe social norms.

Her actions were absent hesitation as she laid her left hand on his shoulder with the adjoining arm bent at a slight angle, her right fingers raised and spread to accept his hand should it be given in turn. Slight of build as she might appear bedecked in a ruffled dress, as she stepped forward to press her body against his, the iron of muscle on her frame would have been detectable from first touch. And yet, she fit against him with an expert’s poise, a reed that would bend with the wind rather than resist its guidance, awaiting his lead.
Edited by Ariel, Feb 12 2017, 08:01 AM.
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Ternunda Hunter Feb 12 2017, 08:27 PM Post #4
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Still his night continued to turn for the unexpected as the dragoness advanced and stole the position in front of him. A woman in yellow with black hair - looking so close to a sunflower it was actually unsettling - was making her way for the spot only to be blocked off by the Red Dragon in her beautiful red and molten, intense glare. He let a smile tug at the corners of his lips to reveal healthy white teeth; she would not be scaring him away, try as she might.

Vincent’s right hand made its way to her hip while his other did accept her own waiting patiently in the air. His hands were larger than hers and calloused under the knuckles from his training and climbing. Firm, strong, but not rough. Still, even as she pressed her firm body to his she’d be met with a wall of sculpted muscle under hard leathers and linen in return. Unlike her willingness to bend and flex and accommodate… He was not. Vincent immediately took control, leading her in a back step and a turn, expecting that she was, ready or not, fully capable of keeping up. His steps were smooth and precise and he'd do little to give her room to improvise save the coming dips, spins and potential lifts.

He listened and enjoyed the intro, to start, figuring it would be best if they went through the motions and got a feel for each other's style of dance before engaging in likely meaningless conversation. Still, he'd been surprised that night, already. He couldn't be wrong again, right?

Vincent leaned down a little, bringing his lips close to her ear so she could well receive the dark baritone rumble that was his voice among the cacophony of music, dancing, laughing, and screaming attendees. ”Pleasure to have you for this dance, my Lady.” He figured she already decided he was terribly lucky to have the opportunity, but he said it anyway. The first crest of the wave that was the beautiful song they'd happened a dance to was fast approaching, and he planned to make it worthwhile. How long had it been.. A total of fifty seconds? Her intensity only made his fight against grinning more steeply uphill.

The very moment the beat hit for the first crest of the song he pushed her out so she could spin, letting the flower of fire that was Saerelith flourish in the stiff air for a long moment before pulling her back in tightly to his body. He lead her into a series of steps and turns where the light seemed to blur around them as he leaned down again. Unabashed, he took in a deep breath through his nose to receive a scent he’d never actually been able to encounter on a woman. Dark.. Cloves and perhaps a hint of brimstone. A result of her being the Red Dragon and wielding fire, no doubt.. Was it a constant thing or had she been recently engaging in some practice or more? Regardless, it was more pleasant than not. He considered initiating an actual conversation, positive she would be able to provide something more entertaining than the last partner he had. He all but gave up on her completely after all she did was blush actually gush over him. So, he decided it was less important. He would lead their bodies while she could lead the conversation if she so desired. But, he never did shy his eyes away, looking down at her only two inches shorter in her heels.

But, before the next crest in the middle of the song arrived, the director instructed them all to swap partners for awhile. He didn't look disappointed, but he felt it as he was traded off to another woman wearing pink ruffles and an incredible amount of makeup and accessories. Saerelith was paired with a relatively short man, at least seven inches below her, with a tree-trunk build and balding head. He never tried to look up at the woman, obviously intimidated by his new partner and seeming to be more tortured than excited. His shoulders slumped forward only making his oversized tunic look more and more like a bag rather than an article of clothing on his clunky frame. He had to pull his hand away from her waist few too many times to drag his trousers back up his hips only to feel them slide back down immediately.

His steps were of poor form. He stumbled and nearly stepped on her toes more than once. He could not lead her, he had to be lead as he was obviously an amateur… But, Vincent didn't feel bad for the Red Dragon as his own situation was no better. The woman he was paired with decided she would let him lead but by parking her feet directly over his as she tried to lean on him like it was some romance. He had to actually drag her through the motions and support her body like she was a fresh kill and he needed to dispose of the corpse before it was seen. Still, when Saerelith was not in front of him his eyes glazed back over to look almost cloudy in his intense boredom. He moved through the motions of a simple dance to a wonderful song with an underwhelming partner. The agent wished he had her back in his arms.
Edited by Ternunda Hunter, Feb 12 2017, 10:03 PM.
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Ariel Feb 13 2017, 07:17 PM Post #5
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The Red Dragon


The nameless man let his hand fall to the rise of her hip and as he met her waiting grasp with his own, Saerelith’s body language conveyed no uncertainty when she took the first step backward in order to follow his lead. His fingers were toughened and calloused beneath her soft touch, a fact she filed away for later review. Hobbies were not uncommon among the upper ranks of the city, but labor-intensive entertainment certainly was; a noble whose time was occupied by craft stuck her as a mild oddity. Her own hands lacked the carefully manicured perfection enjoyed by most noble ladies, short nails evidence of a preference for practicality that stood in direct opposition to the frilly, gossamer dress she wore.

His body was like carved stone granted animation by the Last God, a sculpture given life for the purpose of acting as her partner for the dance, adding fuel to the proverbial crackling hearth of growing curiosity that had taken root in her mind. Who was this man whose grace came as quite the surprise, whose steps never faltered while his chilly gaze captured the fire of her own? It was clear by the unusual elegance with which he moved that he was no amateur, a pleasant fact to be presented with. Saerelith had always been fond of dance, regardless of style and tempo, had always been drawn to the expressionism of performance theater, the thrill of emotion that song could evoke, and the musicians had yet to disappoint this afternoon. The artform had long provided the woman with an avenue for stress relief; there was little more frustrating that being in desperate need of an outlet only find your partner for the evening had less poise than their living deity had seen fit to give a spoon. There were only so many times she could stand to have her feet stomped upon by an unlearned novice, but as luck would have it, she was given no occasion to fear for the safety of her toes in her first partner’s arms.

A voice like honeyed thunder met her ear when he bent ever-so-slightly to speak over the cacophony of instrumental refrain and audience delight, the relative difference between their heights normalized by the lift of her boots, inciting the most unexpected reaction. Saerelith felt the fine, nigh-invisible hairs on her forearms and nape rise to the occasion, stirred to brief and fleeting response by his seemingly innocent statement, much to her chagrin. The darkening of her expression had nothing to do with his acknowledgement of the luck that had landed the Red Dragon in his embrace, incensed instead by the ease with which he had provoked the reaction in her.

“I find myself at a disadvantage, ser,” she admitted with a small smile that failed to reach the inferno of her eyes, feeling safe in the assumption she made to follow. “You know who I am, but I cannot say that I know your face.” His was a countenance she was not likely to forget, whether he chose to provide his identity or not that evening; she had decided already it would be a pity to leave without the prize of his name in the short minute they had been whisked around the dance-floor.

As the music surged toward its beautiful, high-energy crescendo, Saerelith replied to the unvoiced command in the man’s body language by spinning outward at arm’s length in a whirlwind of crimson faux-feathers and dancing burgundy fabric, her ensemble an outfit built with movement in mind. She lingered there only a moment standing on graceful pointe with a flourish of her free hand before he drew her back into his arms, and pulled her through the next series of steps with a sureness that gave her confidence in his ability. Though he gave her little room for improvisation, she took comfort in the routine of well-known choreography, a true pleasure when paired with a partner of considerable skill.

In ordinary circumstances, the Red Dragon would not have wasted the effort involved with conversation, but there seemed something different about this man in particular. Just precisely what it was that set him apart from the rest of the nobility, she had trouble deciding, but his body melded with hers in swing and sway with an expertise she rarely had the opportunity to engage. There was a pull to him, a sensation akin to the allure a flame held for moths.

“Tell me something,” Saerelith began quietly, voice notably absent suspicion. “Why have I not seen you before at Court? I dare say I would remember a man as fleet of foot as yourself.” The thought that he might be a traveling dignitary from one of the other major city-states did cross her mind, but his style of clothing and familiarity with the local dances made that possibility seem less credible. “What House has you hidden away? I must remind them to let you out more often.” Her words adopted a teasing lilt.

The make-shift maestro cried the order to switch partners, and with the hints of reluctance briefly slowing her actions, Saerelith broke free of him to pair with the next man in line. A pathetic creature in comparison to the Dragon herself, her new partner was several hands beneath her natural height to begin with, and the added elevation of her boots placed his head at the awkward level of her breasts. She graciously accepted his hand and hesitated just long enough to acknowledge the stocky fellow had no intention of taking the lead before forcing him backward with a pace. Despite his - and her - best efforts, the poorly dressed man seemed to fall out of synch regularly with her motions and managed to crush her boots with his own ungainly steps more often than not. This soured her mood considerably, an irate furrow of her brow and the hiss of sharply inhaled air through her teeth causing him to practically shrink further still, mortified to have displeased her.

Caustic energy practically radiated from her stiffened posture, and she could not deny the strong resentment that bubbled like hot magma in her chest. Her amber eyes swept away from the unfortunate man she nevertheless carefully assisted through a simple jig, hovering over the crowd aimlessly before settling on her preferred partner stuck in a similarly mismatched situation. Nearly sympathetic, she felt the unsettling tug of jealousy well within her ribcage and smothered the embers before they threatened to ignite further. It seemed such a shame to waste his talents on those less able to match him, and before she realized it had happened, Saerelith made a decision. Though she was willing to linger with the male whose trousers seemed perpetually in need of a belt, as soon as the song wound toward another interlude and the caller’s voice rang out over the crowd, she separated from the man who looked nearly as eager to escape her as she was him.

Out across the dance-floor she strode, ignoring the heartbroken objection of a lanky noble queued to be her next partner and wove between other couples still in motion effortlessly in pursuit of the ocean-eyed stranger. She didn’t wait to be acknowledged, or pause for an invitation once she’d acquired the target in her vision, affecting an air of casual interest that masked deeper desires in her mind’s eye. Though it seemed a garishly clothed woman had taken her place at his side before Saerelith’s arrival, this did little to dissuade her.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I believe this dance is mine.” Saerelith’s words were not unkind when directed at the woman’s painted face, though there was an iron in her cadence that implied to refuse would be unwise. When the competition opened her mouth, she was given no room to negotiate as Saerelith cut in a second time. “I am afraid I really must insist.” One delicate hand was extended toward Vincent as open invitation, much to the outrage of his current partner, though she had at least the wisdom not to object. Instead, the smaller, pink-ruffled woman dipped in a half-hearted curtsy and took her leave with only a handful of glances cast over her shoulder at the handsome man that would elude her for another dance yet.
Edited by Ariel, Feb 13 2017, 07:26 PM.
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Ternunda Hunter Feb 13 2017, 08:36 PM Post #6
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Vincent was quite tired of having his current partner on his toes, but not as irritated as the Red Dragon, it would seem. Thankful for the freedom, he had already started turning to accept the newest partner waiting patiently for her turn. Too little to late, though, as he found his eyes stalled by the fluttering of red in his periphery which instantly brought the intensity of his gaze back to life as he turned his head to see the selfish creature fight for his attention. It took everything he had not to smirk as she stole a place with him, again.

Vincent completely forgot the woman he was supposed to dance with, the next crescendo of the song arriving the moment their hands and bodies met, again. He wasn't one to dwell on 'deeper meanings,' he just took that as a reason to start off with her in an intense, deep step forward and spin which, ultimately, ended with her in a low dip as the song returned to a more relaxed level. His eyes locked onto Saerelith’s while she was down there and then he finally let that smirk play on his lips before pulling her back up to continue the dance, swaying gently as the woman on stage chimed softly over head. Many couples around them attempted to do the same thing, a tasteful dip at the end of the middle climax... But that also lead to many women complaining about falling to the ground. It was best to ignore the unfortunate interruptions.

He leaned in again, holding her close as if she was under his protection, like every step and move was letting him keep an eye on all those around them... Like he had a suspicion there was to be an attempt on either of their lives. Finally, he offered a response that was not quite an answer to her seemingly eager questions, "It would seem this dance is, in fact, yours." The confidence in his tone was thick, his pleasure in her reaction to being separated from him light but present as silk wrapping around them in compliment to his voice. After a soft, rumbling 'mmm' in her ear he leaned back a little to get a full view of her face to satisfy at least some of her curiosity, "It isn't often I am able to attend events like this one. I may not have many responsibilities--" he lied "--But I am far too busy to wander a bazaar to dance with a beautiful woman who could have just as easily been the one she forced away with a stern glare and sharp tone of voice."

And it was true. Vincent didn't believe in something as ridiculous as fate, but he did believe in coincidence. He was not fated to dance with the Red Dragon that night... But he was glad he did. He wondered if she would be satisfied with his response or if she would prod him for his name again. And then, of course, he wondered if he'd actually give it to her. His cover was relatively infallible, but she knew someone else who actually knew it all. He supposed he'd have to decide when the time actually came, if it came.

He pulled his eyes away from her own to glance up at the stage. The woman reveled in the attention her song gathered. Aside from those dancing around the stage there were plenty of people gathered around the pairs chanting and humming along with her. She was at an interlude where there were only instrumentals, waiting patiently for the final climax of the song as she danced provocatively on the dance floor, humming and adding in artistic notes and repeats of various lines from before in the song. The woman had dirty blonde hair that stuck up in multiple directions from her bouncing and running her fingers through her hair and throwing it in every direction. The woman wore very little which was less of an attractive thing to Vincent than anything. He preferred to unwrap the present, not see what was inside before he could even get his hands on it. Like the woman already in his arms.

He saw the director above approach the front of the stage again, prepared to call for another switch. He looked overly excited. A short, thin man with shoulder length silver hair and hands that seemed just a little too large for his body. He had a yellow grin as his eyes roamed the crowd, landing on Vincent who had a stern, hard expression. The man's mouth closed and his hands fell as the breath he'd gathered to shout for a switch slowly escaped through the corners of his mouth like a deflating balloon. It was enough. Vincent looked back to the woman as she started to sing again before returning his attention to the dragoness. Maybe he'd never have her see him again. But at least they would be able to finish the song together. At least that.
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Ariel Feb 16 2017, 05:33 PM Post #7
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The Red Dragon


To be paired with someone who wasn’t so inclined to stomp on her feet was visibly a relief, Saerelith’s mood steadily improving as they wound through the crowd in sync with the music. It was clear by the fluidity of her movements, the lack of impending stormclouds in her expression, and most notably the growing smile that had taken up residence on her lips. She was not entirely a hateful creature, precocious and capricious without a doubt, but full of passion for the things she did enjoy - a man with the skill to match her certainly qualified. She followed his lead without hesitation, going so far as to life one pointed foot from the ground with a showy kick of her long skirts when he leaned her backward for an impressive dip. Despite the delightful performance, by the way her lean frame tensed within his supporting hands as though prepared to catch herself should he let her slip, it seemed absolute trust was not something she was eager to grant a stranger. He would not have been the first man with great ambition to drop her on a dance floor. As such, it was a pleasant surprise when she found his arms unyielding and his grasp firm, lifting her from the vulnerable pose back onto her feet effortlessly.

From the cries of objection and the shrieks of unexpected descents, Saerelith knew without having to look that other women had not been quite as lucky. Unnecessary though it might be, her molten eyes reluctantly left the tall, cool drink of her partner’s chiseled features to lilt over the unfortunate couples who had attempted to mirror them and failed. Sweeping the area with a glance had taken only a fraction of a moment and she was amused enough to have laughed, but the sound of a man’s smooth voice tickled her ear and instantly lured the Red Dragon’s attention back to him. The smile that touched her face this time held the flavor of amusement, the subtle squint of her gaze a hint that she had caught something amiss in his statement.

Though his words held an alluring cadence, she had been given no reason to beyond the charm of his technique and the intensity of his gaze to believe him, and it was evident in the way she seemed to be withholding as much of herself from him as he did from her. That he had chosen to refrain from revealing his identity had not escaped her and struck her as odd, a stray thread in the tapestry he had begun to weave. Noblemen in the city were like rats baited by the smell of success and fell generally into two categories while in her presence: those who wanted to elevate themselves by association and those who hoped to find a weakness in the Red to exploit for their own schemes. In either case, most would volunteer their names and ranks in the hopes of planting a seed in the ear of a powerful, unattached woman.

“Is that so?” Saerelith shifted up onto her toes mid-step to reply in a playful, airy whisper, the rise and fall of her chest quickened by more than just the swift pace of the current song. “What luck, then, that you managed to find time in your busy schedule to attend the festival. It would have been quite a pity had you chosen to stay in tonight.”

The strength of his arms was comforting in an intoxicatingly primal, instinctual sense that begged her to let slack the line that held the her in check. Truly unusual was the man who felt the Second of the Five would tolerate a protective embrace, let alone desire it, and yet she couldn’t deny the satisfaction that being held by her anonymous partner produced. The stubborn element of her personality found it vexing, both to have her probes for information surreptitiously avoided and to find herself drawn in by the mystery he represented. If he wanted to play at games, she was willing to oblige, if for no other reason than to test his proverbial boundaries. Admittedly, if he did refuse to provide his identity, there were other ways to seek him out. She was not without her methods, and counting Valencia’s Spymaster among her closest confidants did come with an advantage or two she felt perfectly comfortable exploiting for her own purposes.

Saerelith’s vibrant eyes left his face to follow his attention when she saw his expression sour toward the stage. On the dias, she watched the slender director wilt beneath Vincent’s icy stare and raised an eyebrow in impressed appreciation as the maestro hesitated before the crowd. The man opened his mouth like he meant to say something, but much to the Red’s continued amusement, he turned about-face with a twirl of his silvery hair, muttering something far too quietly to be heard over the blasting music before disappearing behind the curtains. A peal of Saerelith’s melodic laughter met the air, her lean form shuddering against her dance partner in a fit of barely-controlled giggles as she stole back control of the conversation.

“What an intimidating man I find myself with,” she let her teeth graze the edge of her bottom lip, bright eyes finding his only to dance between the intensity of his gaze and the appealing curve of his mouth as though torn. “Why, if I only I had his name… My work requires so much of my time, it will be such a shame to leave the dance with only a memory.” The woman stretched to near his ear conspiratorially, the heat of her breath against his neck. “However will I invite him for drinks to a more... private setting without his name?”
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Ternunda Hunter Feb 16 2017, 09:22 PM Post #8
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Shadow Stalker

Saerelith’s prodding taunts were just as futile as poking a shadow with a stick. He rumbled a soft ‘mmm’ before pulling her more tightly to his body to avoid a couple who’d started wandering much too close for his liking. Crisis averted, he looked into her eyes with a cool confidence, his silver-tongued retort rolling out of his mouth with as little effort as it took to simply draw breath. “Sometimes a taste is more satisfying than the whole bite. Like when sipping a fine wine; you let it slide along your tongue and down your silken throat, quickly satisfied, and wanting more… but the server has left with the tray. What do you do then? Would you wait for him to return or would you chase him down?” The ending question was a probe as much as it was a tease. If she would wait, he would have an easier time with her.. But if she would chase, he would find himself more challenged than he unwittingly anticipated. And then, of course, there was the possibility that she’d elect some third route that was never offered in the first place. Which would mean she planned to be incredibly stubborn and that unyielding attitude would have to be picked at until it fittingly burned to ash at her well-dressed feet.

Still, it wasn’t until her final utterances did a darker thought cross his mind… And once it did, he wasn’t quite able to shake it. Vincent was very much a focused, few track mind kind of man. So, at the time all he was thinking about was dancing and being himself; engaging in playful banter with a beautiful woman, an opportunity which he rarely found himself in an opportune enough situation to grab up. He was simply enjoying what he could, relishing in his luck that night. But her whispers of continuing beyond after the song struck its final chord shifted his mind like an operator did for train tracks. Rather than stop at the dead end the lever was pulled and he was heading a new direction that wasn’t necessarily his originally intended destination. Still, the change was welcome, unplanned as it may have been. A new prize for a goal oriented man to strive for. He did enjoy a good chase. But with Saerelith he planned to do less chasing and more running. All for good reason, of course. Uncanny, though, that just with those tempting words did he already craft some master plan to have the woman chasing after him. A woman of instant gratification. A woman comfortable with finding herself pandered to by those who figured they could only gain by kissing the ground beneath her feet and bending to her will. Lucky for her, Vincent decided, he was not so easy.

He leaned his head down a little to accommodate her as she reached, her breath a welcomed sensation on his neck. Though, hot as it was he had to stifle a shudder as her sultry notes hit him just right. The Red Dragon’s words only brought out a mischievous smirk to play, though, dominating his recently playfully curved lips. The man didn’t pull away from her to respond, in fact, he challenged her by moving even closer to the point she’d nearly be able to feel his lips make contact with her jaw, ”I suppose that would be left up to what you plan to gain from the experience, Lady Red Dragon. Perhaps, while you consider, I will have already led you away, seated you at a table on a balcony with the stars and moon glimmering overhead, and have filled your cup with wine.” A staccato exhale from his nose rushed down her soft skin as an obvious sign of his amusement… or perhaps preference to his suggested scenario. ”Perhaps I can recommend you choose whether the time is worth it soon.. Our song is ending after this. Regardless, I promise not to keep you out past your bedtime,” He teased.

Vincent pulled away from her as they arrived at their final crescendo, disabling his partner from a swift response. No, he wanted her to mull it over. What was more was he wanted to watch her consider it. Bear witness to those beautiful brows knitting together, if he would be so lucky, as she processed his words and decided whether or not she would bite, retreat, or play. He lead her to turn so her back was facing him, guiding her to strut forward and show off her favorite moves while he held onto her hand firmly, canting his head to the side as he fully expected her to perform the most provocative of forms. He planned for her to tease and taunt… and, in turn, he planned for patience. So, while he watched her with trained, vigilant eyes, he moved his hips and slowly maneuvered around her while she was given a moment of spotlight… being his deep, attentive gaze. To him, it was only his eyes that mattered, and he cared little if anyone else found their attentions wandering from their less than exemplary partners to the gem of the night; the finest and most coveted ruby, Saerelith Redstorm.
Edited by Ternunda Hunter, Feb 16 2017, 11:57 PM.
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Quix56 Feb 17 2017, 09:12 PM Post #9
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Lord Arsehole in Training & Voiceless Whisper


The grand re-opening of the Grand Bazaar was in full swing.
For an entire week, the giant shopping precinct of Valencia was closed to promote the attendance of the multiple parties and events set up by the royal family and different portions of the elite. For all intents and purposes, it was declared a national holiday. Only what were considered vital establishments, like the Royal Bank and several of the larger market chains trading in fresh food and vegetables were open, and even these were located outside of the Grand Bazaar proper.
Magitech lights and wreaths made of multicoloured cloth and paper entwined hung from strings crisscrossing the many walkways between stalls. The main thoroughfare was perhaps the only place free of any sort of overhanging adornment. Despite being absolutely everywhere, it added a very artistic edge and somehow managed to escape the feeling of being cluttered. The Bazaar itself however, could not be described the same: the citizenry were out en masse.
People from all walks of life, those who lived and dwelled within Bloodletter’s Run, and even the higher classes from Avenue Aeternas mingled in an environment fit for kings. The Minister for Commerce had easily outdone herself again, hiring only the best musicians and show dancers for the event. It had been a mighty feat for this celebration was not only just to celebrate the reopening for the current year, but also the completion of the last renovations of the Grand Bazaar expansion, and thus, its' reveal to both the public and the staff who now had bigger stalls to move into.

One of these who had received an extension order and now found he now had an official storeroom was Wyatt Honeydew; proprietor of In-Dew-Time, a long-standing magihaberdashery along the main thoroughfare of the Grand Bazaar’s main entrance. He and his sister, Lucy, a part-time student artificer ran a small team who specialised in trading, fixing and second-hand selling of basically anything that wasn’t nailed down. In advent of the extension, a new contract had been drawn and they had found themselves under the ownership of a set of brothers from a very high point in society. The infamous Argon brothers. The Argons held a title deed to quite a notable chunk of the shopping precinct including the last extension. They didn't own the businesses, but with the relevant ease at which they could be shut down if so much as a finger was raised was a suitable deterrent for not paying rent on time.

Lord Argon had passed some of the deeds down to his eldest son, and he had passed some to him, one of which was In-Dew-Time, which was the excuse at which he found himself stood in the Bazaar Proper trying to find it.
It was useless asking for directions, both because most people he didn't recognise would be tourists and wouldn't know, and most people he did recognise weren't the sort of people he would have believe he couldn't find a simple shop. It was not time pertinent, he was not there for business, not on the first day of the working year, but rather as an excuse to get away from the house. Malacai had refused to come citing his dislike of the commoners. How he had expected to interface with his new enterprise was beyond Jared. He regretted not travelling down with the family scribe now, he had planted the idea in her head that it would be a good event to take note of, and she had scuttled off before he could explain why. Reliya was always a bit like that, full of youthful energy and a need to keep busy. He remembered when she had first fallen into the family service and it had been Malacai who had taken an interest in her; these days she was more a sore point between them, but Jared always made an effort to make her feel welcome, even if elder brother did the opposite. Malacai hated having to deal with anyone below him.
It was this and several other reasons that Jared found himself alone in the midst of a sea of people all falling over themselves to look at the wares Valencia had to offer at one of the largest open-air markets left in the empire. Most had become indoor exchanges. Jared suspected that would be the fate of the Grand Bazaar also - there was no where else to build laterally, so building up would be the next natural point of call. Some of the units had built up and into the walls, but no proper infrastructure had been put in place to secure any higher floors elsewhere.

At the very centre point of the Grand Bazaar, the most peculiar fountain Jared had ever seen was suspended thirty feet in the air over the central plaza. The fountain was a glass sphere with water that gushed out and over its surface, defying gravity and adhering to the globe as it spun around it’s fixings, a keen observer would see the wires attached to four support beams in the corners of the plaza: the only physical proof it was not completely suspended by some sort of invisible force. The entire feature was lit from inside with a golden hue, and with the water covering its surface, the light rippled through causing it to sparkle and catch the eye. Underneath the fountain there were musicians and dancers in all assortments of colours and garbs all consumed in an all out mass mingling complete with trading partners as the music stopped and started. There was no way this sort of thing would happen at the open invitation ball the next night up at the Keep. Jared already knew that despite it being open invitation there would be more separation in classes than ever before. If anyone expected people like Nobles and Dragons to be dancing with the common people, it definitely wouldn’t happen here in Valencia.

Scratch that.
Saerelith Redstorm, the Red Dragon of Valencia had just shot past on his right dancing with a man who looked to contain no more noble blood than he contained commoner blood. It was a bloody strange world.
Tearing himself away from the square and the prospect of being drawn in with the dancers, Jared made for the path between the centre and the Royal Bank of Valencia. Maybe he had missed the shop, the streets were packed and it was difficult to look on both sides of the path at once. Causeway designed for travel of carts and carriages as well as people contained none of the former and all of the latter today. As he passed a stall with all sorts of runic charms he finally found it.
Pulling himself out of the sea of people and into the stall front, he straightened his jacket, and adjusted his silver cufflinks. It was important to look important.

There was enough room for a few people to stand before the mountain of what could easily be considered junk was piled. Lampshades, cooking appliances and a large bronze kettle all sat on different sized boxes on display. Inside the kettle a brown cat was curled up. He peered in and the cat seemed to open one eye and look back at him. Jutting backwards in anticipation that the cat might suddenly try and attack him for disturbing its rest, he trod on someone’s toes. Turning around he became aware he had accidently stepped into a staff member.

”Good aftern- evening,” he caught himself, noting a nearby clock had put the time just after six, ”My name is Jared Sebastian Argon; I’d like to speak to the proprietor of this stall if I may.”
A few of the stall workers looked at one another and swapped worried looks. Perhaps he had come across as too important.
I’m afraid he’s on break at the moment, Can I help? A girl moved forward to greet him as the other staff seemed to move away in her presence so he suspected she was somehow in charge, despite her age. She wasn’t tall, even for his height, she was a head below him, but with her arms folded and the stern look she was wearing, she was metaphorically taller. It took him a few seconds to realise she hadn’t spoken, but instead he had heard her voice inside his head. If it wasn’t for the noise generated by the people behind him he would have noticed immediately. He wondered if the connection was two way, and looking her in the eyes tried to reply using his thoughts. There’s been a reshuffling of ownership and your stall falls under my jurisdiction now, he thought, This is weird, can you hear me?
A reply came promptly. Yes, but I’m not deaf, you can talk out loud if you like.
”Sorry, it’s just a little odd, that’s all. Honestly I’m not here on business, I just wanted to show my face and say it’ll be a pleasure to be working with you.” The girl’s posture relaxed a little, and some of the stern edge lifted. Her face still looked quite cold in comparison though.
I’m Lucy Honeydew. She offered him her hand, and in the pause between thoughts, he took it and gave a firm handshake, My brother, Wyatt, owns the stall.
”Nice to meet you. I apologise for my abruptness, I’m not used to travelling this far outside the Noble’s District.”
I can tell. There was a pause, where she physically grimaced, Sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean to think out loud.
Jared gave a sharp laugh, and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, ”It’s okay,” he chuckled, ”It’s a refreshing honesty I’m not at all used to.”
She seemed to smile in response, but there was no reply. It was hard to tell if she had spoken and he had just not got the message, and to prevent it from becoming awkward, he decided to break the silence with another question.
”Will Wyatt be off break soon? I don’t really want to impose for too long, I would rather not scare off any of your customers!”
She seemed to look over his shoulder, and he instinctively looked to see the cat yawning from within the kettle, and then disappear into it again.
Yeah, he’s probably going to be a while.
He thought he caught a wind of annoyance in her reply.
”Well, in that case, If you haven’t been invited to tomorrow’s ball up at the Keep, consider yourself both invited. I look forward to maybe seeing you there.”
Maybe.

It was a one word answer and she had turned around and disappeared back into the store. Jared would have considered it rude if not for the fact he had felt he had got to know that this was just the sort of person she was. Short, direct and to the point. He imagined that if he wasn’t capable of talking, he wouldn’t say a lot either.
He turned and considered the kettle for a moment.
”She seems nice, doesn’t she puss?” he said out loud to the cat, as if expecting it to reply to him too. He blinked a few times, before running his hand against his face, ”I’m talking to a cat, I think I need to get out more.” He didn’t wait any longer before stepping out into the sea of people and disappearing into the crowd.
”You’re telling me,” the cat popped his head out of the kettle, ”Oh, he’s gone.”
Edited by Quix56, Feb 17 2017, 11:23 PM.
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Ariel Feb 18 2017, 08:41 AM Post #10
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The Red Dragon


His first question was met with an incredulous look as though she felt the question had an obvious answer, an amused shade to the curl of her lips and the quizzical furrow of her brow. To what end would he invent this hypothetical scenario? Had he proven less entertaining thus far, she might not have bothered to indulge his fantasy, but her patience was apparently willing to extend at least this distance. “Well,” she paused only briefly to consider whether his query were serious in nature or intended as a jest, “what need have I to chase when I can signal for his return with but a wave of my hand? Surely if you sample something you like, you would not let it get away.” Saerelith returned his stare without any hint of intimidation lurking in those fiery depths, her own prideful entitlement uncowed by his chilly intensity.

So near, the vibration of his words against her skin provoked a small thrill that was equal parts enticing and concerning. The woman prided herself in control, though her temper was not always included, and the simple fact that her reaction to his presence was such a visceral one was cause for great intrigue. Like a hound on the hunt, she had caught the scent of a fox and she had no intention of letting the sly creature evade her pursuit. Even if he was a dashing stranger in the guise of a hypothetical waiter. Though as his words reached her ears, she let the smirk fade from her lips. The instinctual flag of self-preservation signaled that his early charm was something to be wary of, and that she enjoyed his attention immensely was cause for minor alarm.

She shivered in his arms at the sensation of his laughter, though her footwork never faltered, and in an instant confusion was no longer allowed to taint her countenance. "What do I plan to gain?” The implication in his statement was slightly offensive, that her plans might have an ulterior motive. Saerelith opened her mouth to dominate the conversation, but found that he lead in this as he did in their dance, and chose to deliver a counter-offer before she had the opportunity to rebut. The Red Dragon was not known to hold her tongue, and though he described a scenario that was tempting, in doing all of the aforementioned, he had provoked the inclination to be stubborn. Had she been allowed to answer then, it would likely have been a no.

It was just as well that the obdurately anonymous man chose then to step away from her, disengaging from the intimacy of their touch to provide her both with time to debate his proposition and a convenient spotlight. She did so enjoy the rare opportunity to show off, indifferent to the eyes her high station brought in its tenure. Every moment in the public eye was under scrutiny, and as such there was a limit to just how much of a show she was willing to put on, but Saerelith had enjoyed the chance to perform. She didn’t let his unforeseen withdrawal interrupt the rhythm she had been moving to, and as he pulled away, the Red Dragon wove another stride backward beyond his reach in with the sway of her hips. He could no longer touch, this single gesture conveyed without words, should the desire strike him; the burning embers of her eyes dared him to defy her.

The singer crooned a pretty melody of longing before heavier instruments picked up the bass line, and the kicks of a drumset carried the beat slow and jazzy. Saerelith shifted her weight between the balls of either foot to undulate sinuously in time with music, the pop of hip or shoulder synced every now and then with the stomps of the bass drum. Her arms began to slide in serpentine motions, the curl of her fingers made to emphasize the illusion of a wave, a smooth transition made to isolations of her chest that seemed to roll effortlessly down her body. Satisfied by the distance between them, the air around her seemed to slowly, gradually thicken with the hair-raising sensation that precedes the arrival of a thunderstorm. The temperature in this localized area began to rise, warming beyond what might have been plausibly explained by the magitech heat-lamps. Bathed in the amber light of the luminous fountain marvel that dangled high above their heads, tiny sparks burst in the air from nothingness as controlled pyrotechnics that developed with intensity as the song wore on.

Her eyes never left his, regardless of where his might choose to stray - though she had been pleasantly rewarded thus far with the entirety of his focus as they danced. It was gratifying, and absolutely to be expected by a creature of her obvious value. Of that she would leave no doubt in his mind, the coordination and control required by her performance evident in its fluidity, and as her hands fell to her modest skirt, they roamed suggestively up the curves of her silhouette. Fire danced to life in small trails of flickering embers that orbited her elegant form as if carried by a stiff wind that was not there, sputtering and feeding off the surrounding oxygen. This show was harmless to Red Dragon herself, a mere taste of the power she had been gifted with by the sheer luck of her birth, and would do little more than singe anyone unfortunate enough to near her at its current strength. It was an effective tool to wave her abilities in his face, however, the allure of the femme fatale on display in each graceful step. The only proof of exertion was the increasing pace at which her chest rose and fell with a performer’s trained breaths, production of such a fanciful lightshow otherwise leaving her unphased. The flames crackled to a high point to match the musician’s crescendo and began to leak the smell of smoke and brimstone into the air, though no choking fog ever descended.

As the song she followed began to slow as it neared the final verses, the showy fireworks vanished with an abrupt suddenness that left the gaze with only the marvelous Saerelith Redstorm as a safe harbor. She reveled in exertion, the endorphins of performance as effective a boon as any silly man on her psyche, but as the air began to clear with a natural current from the open plaza, the woman began a sultry walk back toward the man who had let her go. It was clear she was in no rush.

It was this dance that might have helped to inspire the scandalous rumors of the risque performance to follow the next night at the more formal event for the new war hero’s benefit, the Razaria of Lynnestrum origin. This was a shade more tame, lacking the disrobing necessary for that exotic number, but plenty provocative despite the woman’s modest dress.

Only once she had reached him did she speak, calling his bluff as much as it was a concession to his invitation. “You are fortunate that I favor wines, but you’ll find mine a picky tongue. I’ll accept your invitation to the stars on one condition: your name.” Her voice held an airy edge as she regained her breath, fixing him with a challenging glare. “I will not waste my time with a stranger who hides behind pretenses like anonymity, and I’m not entirely convinced you can handle me.”
Edited by Ariel, Feb 19 2017, 03:44 AM.
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