Commander of the Immortal Army
Bisexual, Prefers Women.
Single.
Immortal
Authored by Rhys.
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Post by Connor Lachesis on Sept 22, 2017 21:19:58 GMT
Connor’s expression did not flash some incredulous look, nor did his face steam in the way that Solara’s had as the man bit back his response. No, instead, he regarded the clown with a flat, unamused look. As if he didn’t know. His lip twitched, just about to follow with a response, when the man continued – this time directing his words to Solara. Her punishment came swiftly, her hand biting into man’s cheek light a lightning crack. At that, he might’ve smiled… But, when the man continued, his face crew cold. “It’s alright, go.” He responded smoothly to Solara, failing to release the other man.
The dinner bell sounded then, the cohort in the room immediately beginning to spill away. That was it, the opportunity to handle him swiftly and easily. At once, his grip tightened and his other hand flicked up abruptly to push the man by his shoulder. With a twisting motion, he guided the man’s hand up and into a painful angle behind his back, and began ushering him with force toward the periphery of the room. He did not acknowledge the man’s speech, nor did he reprimand him. Instead, once they were close enough for a pair of guards to hear, Connor nodded toward the man and gave him a push. “Escort him out. He has no place here.”
The pair of Immortal guardsmen surged forward, complying with the order. Connor had just turned away, eyes drifting back over the room in search of Solara, when another figure caught his attention. While it seemed his date had followed through on her need for space… Another seemed to be almost ready to slip into the banquet hall. And she was clear of any of the people which had approached her upon her smoky entrance into the room.
Curiosity certainly killed the cat.
With a few quick strides, the Commander posted himself at the bottom of the stairs, effectively heading off the dark-skinned beauty before her feet ever met the floor of the ballroom. Bowing his head, and offering a gloved hand, the uninjured one, Connor gave her a look. Not appraising in the way of Djinn, not flirtatious as Seymour regarded everyone, and certainly not fearful, it was a look of mischief, and an unspoken challenge. “You chose to forgo an announcement… It would be a shame if you did the same for a dance, especially with a perfectly good ballroom.”
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Post by shaecayrn on Sept 22, 2017 22:33:12 GMT
Djinn slipped from her side agreeably, and received a smile, at least, until she realized that he was merely using her request as an excuse to escape the crowd. A pity. At least he would have been witty amusement. Moments later Ymir fled with her date, telling her not to get into trouble, and leaving her alone with… Orin. The most serious, boring of the lot. Even here, his first thought had been of that stupid plant. The man was obsessed. Didn’t he have anything else to care about? She let out a sigh of disappointment. Her eyes moved across the dance floor as she debated slipping into the crowd herself, and the unmistakable sight of Djinn having irritated somebody was a hard scene to miss. As the woman stormed away, her dance partner escorted Djinn off the floor, and shoved him into the hands of a couple guards. Somebody of authority then. Interesting. The announcement for dinner came, and she let a smile curve her lips upwards once again. Food and drink would be a good thing, so long as she could leave Orin behind for the meal. He was handsome enough, but it was far too hard to get used to him as he was, when she truly preferred the mysterious appearance of him with paint and everything else he decorated himself with usually. At least that had some flare for style. The woman slipped herself from Orin’s escort grip and descended down the stairs. Her shadows, as always, played around her feet, darkening her skirts and the stairs. To her surprise, the very man who had escorted Djinn off the floor awaited her as she stepped down the stairs. His hand was extended to her as she approached, and as he spoke, her eyes scanned over him appraisingly. His lips quirked in a manner that spoke of mischief, and his eyes met hers without hesitation. A challenge, and while it was subtle perhaps, when seen from the outside, she could not mistake it for what it was. One corner of her lips quirked up, and her hand trailed down the longest streak of silver on her cheek. ”Indeed, it would be. How nice of you to prevent such an occurrence.”[/url] Her voice was low, almost husky, and tinged with just the hint of sarcasm, as if she truly hadn’t cared whether she danced or not, and a little as if she already knew his game. After all, it was exactly what she had encouraged, with her dramatic entrance filled with shadows. Even now, as her slender fingers slid into his hand with only a touch of hesitance, shadows came before them. They came with the cool feeling of her magic, sliding ahead of her fingers, and then fading to the heat of her hand. Carefully, she controlled her normal want to jerk away from physical touch, particularly from men. Instead, she followed him onto the floor, allowing his hand to settle on her waist, her own fingers coming to rest, featherlight, upon his shoulder. The mage was as tense as a feline ready to spring, though she followed his lead well enough for an amateur dancer. She didn’t seem used to having a partner. Perhaps this place was a bit too far out of her element. To distract herself and keep her own steps pliable to following his lead, Shimmer focused upon Connor’s face, her lips curving in shadowy mischief. ”So, am I to dance with a stranger and wonder who you were all night, or will you share your name with me?” Her teeth were shown in her grin, a sharp contrast to her skin as one dark brow raised slightly. Connor Lachesis
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Commander of the Immortal Army
Bisexual, Prefers Women.
Single.
Immortal
Authored by Rhys.
Offline.
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Post by Connor Lachesis on Sept 23, 2017 1:00:04 GMT
The looming Immortal was unflinching as she regarded him. In fact, he seemed entirely at ease with the proximity of one who was a potential threat. His expression was almost expectant, by the time her decision finally fell from her lips. In response, the Commander bowed his head in a small, courteous nod, though the look in her eye, and the curve of her mouth were not lost on him.
He felt… as if he were playing with fire.
Meeting his hand, the woman offered her slender fingers to meet his touch. True to what he’d seen thus far, however, she also seemed inclined for a theatric flare. Briefly, his eyes flicked down to the mist, though his fingers were thoroughly insulated from any temperature change. Absently, he wondered what her aim was, exactly with such a display. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have two daggers hidden away on his person… But that didn’t mean he enjoyed the lack of advantage. His own magic, both the unpredictability and the burden of controlling it, could be frustrating sometimes. None of this shown on his face, however. Instead, a small, bemused smile settled across his mouth, as his eyes seemed to dance with thought.
“That seems like fun.” He mused quietly, before he lead her out onto the dance floor. Had she arrived any earlier, he might’ve not been so bold. Fortunately, Solara had been an excellent instructor in giving him a crash-course. The thrill, too, of the proximity of one who seemed so intent on coming across as dangerous certainly emboldened him further. In a sense, it was like one predator meeting the other.
Placing his injured hand lightly on her waist, mindful of the fact that only his index finger and thumb could really grip, it was only a moment before he adjusted the grip of his uninjured hand on her own. Where his body had been tense earlier in the evening, he was now more relaxed. His shoulders were held high, though, as he began guiding them into motion. Meanwhile, her body – it moved with a stiffness to the legs and shoulders. He was almost swayed to comment, but then she initiated first.
“Names are pesky things, aren’t they?” He mused, meeting her gaze with an indulgent smile. “I’ll tell you, but we must keep it a secret.” The tone of his voice dropped, speaking to her as if she were a close friend. In all actuality, he had been announced himself prior to her arrival. His name was known widely, though certainly not his face… And that was what he was banking on. His eyes practically flared as he uttered the next syllables, a dare plainly. “Commander Lachesis. But please, call me Connor. What of you, or shall I just call you the Lady of the Smoke for the evening?” His tone was far from the honeyed sweetness that Seymour used. Each syllable had a kind of punctuation to it, vaguely almost goading, but also very deliberate. If she wanted to dish out mischief, it was clear: he would match her.
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Post by shaecayrn on Sept 23, 2017 14:37:21 GMT
Slowly, as she stepped to his lead, her body relaxed slightly, until she moved with slightly more grace. Her shoulders, however, were still tightly wired. She didn’t like following another’s lead. It was why she’d never done much partner dancing in the first place. Not that anyone wanted to dance with her in the first place. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected anyone here to either, and Connor’s invitation had been bit of a surprise until she had realized that he was doing to her exactly what she was doing to him. Measuring, weighing, judging. How dangerous was she and how much did he need to keep an eye upon her? A low sound of amusement came from her as he told her that she would have to keep his name secret, her eyes staring into his boldly. Perhaps she sought his soul. In reality, she just couldn't quite tell how concerned she should feel. He held his own sort of danger to him, and a warrior's grace. This close quarters meant he held more advantage, despite her magical prowess. His voice dropped, making her lean in slightly, uncomfortably close for her. She imagined they held a bit of the image of two who may get intimate soon, though that couldn't be farther from the truth. And each syllable came from him carefully pronounced, his eyes simply daring her to cause trouble as he spoke. Her own dark gaze flashed with recognition at his name, and a hint of caution came through before it was chased away by the shadows and mystery. Shaecayrn studied him for a moment as he continued to speak. It seemed she was dealing with a live tiger now, and she was holding his tail. -Best keep a solid grip then…- The thought was fleeting but a warning to herself. Any true mischief must be kept low key. Her voice was a low purr. ”Connor.” She tested his name on her tongue, fingers fluttering upon his shoulder for a brief moment before she offered him yet another dangerous smile. Her eyes glinted slightly with amusement as she continued, the sort of humor that may flee at any moment.. Her own voice held no challenge within it, simply an easy confidence. ”Most folk know me as either the Shadow… for rather obvious reasons. But since you don’t choose to hold me to calling you ‘Commander’... You may call me Shimmer. Lady of the Smoke would be acceptable as well as flattering, but I think that's a bit of a mouthful, don't you?” Her fingers fluttered, her shadows fluttering with them for a moment before settling again, and resting as they had since the start, clinging to her feet and skirt. Idly, her thoughts ran for a moment. Is this what flirting felt like? This dance was too close, their words a bit like two fighters testing each other. Shimmer couldn't decide if she liked the feeling or if she preferred the social outcast behavior she had relied upon for so long. But this ball could have so many opportunities, along side the ability to simply celebrate a success that nobody here knew of. That thought brought a small smirk to one corner of her lips, a secret that nobody knew. It was at that moment some part of her mind truly registered that the hand upon her waist was gripping with only a few fingers, his lead weakened because of it. Was that his own caution? Did he wish to pull away quickly? Or was it something else? Inwardly she laughed. It wasn’t as though she wanted his touch to be more firm. In truth, she’d rather his hands be anywhere but on her. But this dance was nothing but a mask for the truth they both sought from each other. Gently, she focused for a moment, sending a probe of magic down to his hand, curiosity driving her to discover what was wrong with the limb. Her magic would have a slightly tingling feeling, if he noticed it at all, as she found that only half of his hand worked as it should. Something had caused it to not. Poison, perhaps? Or an old battle wound? There was no way of knowing, without asking him outright, and she was not one to admit to her curiosity so openly. Instead, she took a bit of the lead from him, slipping herself into a transitional spin that sent her starry skirt spinning out delicately, before bringing her back and spinning her in under his arms, so that she came back with her back to him, standing slightly to one side. A move favored by lovers who wished to dance closer, she had rarely ever practiced it. Luck was with her for her to succeed with it. She shifted her own steps in order to keep the basic step of the dance going, but now both of her hands came down to take his damaged hand, leaving only his other hand upon her. A shiver passed through her tugging his hand to where she could study it better brought part of her back to meet the side of his chest. Shimmer knew the shiver would be felt by him, as close as they were, but she hardly cared. Still she wanted to pull away from him, but forced herself to stay in place, studying his hand with her magic. Her voice floated to him, a quiet, musing tone now, that of a scholar. "Oh dear, Connor, what is this? What did you do to yourself, hm?" She ignored any protest from him, her fingers gentle before they firmed in their grip. A gentle murmur came from her after, the words a gentle chanting rhyme that came to the beat of the music. "What once was whole, lays broken and abused, Fill it once again with life, to be properly used. Flesh, rent and torn, healed wrong, unused, Repair damage done, let flesh be renewed."The chant was truly no more than a focus for her, continuing in repetitive fashion. Sometimes the sentences didn't even make sense. Often healing was not a magic that required such a focus, for she could simply pour energy into the wound and heal it. But whatever had happened to Connor's hand had healed already, and she had to undo the damage and heal it without damaging the hand once again. Her magic slid through his flesh, her inner view of it showing dull red where the nerves were dead, a slightly brown color where muscles had atrophied as a result. The bones were still mostly strong, but she strengthened them slightly anyway. The last piece she did though, was connect the formerly damaged nerves back into the healthy ones, allowing feeling to run through the entirety of his hand once more. Her lips quirked slightly as she finished, letting her power slide back to its passive task of controlling the shadows around her feet, and releasing his hand as she turned back to face him. Connor Lachesis
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Commander of the Immortal Army
Bisexual, Prefers Women.
Single.
Immortal
Authored by Rhys.
Offline.
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Post by Connor Lachesis on Sept 25, 2017 22:40:00 GMT
Her reaction to his words – from the intense way in which she met his gaze, to the bold purr of her response – seemed to bring him some satisfaction. In truth, there was something impressive about one so willing to meet him in such an unflinching way. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he favored Solara. In truth, with this woman, however, the situation was quite different. He had no desire to bed this one, rather, he wanted to know of her. To test her, for the display of grandeur with which she’d entered the ballroom, to determine if she really was what she portrayed.
Up until that point, the impression hadn’t fallen flat.
Tilting his head slightly, his lips curved as he regarded her; the corners of his eyes even crinkled with a smile, as his gaze fixed upon her with the burning intensity of a furnace. Still, slowly, he kept their bodies moving lightly through the motions of their dance. Even despite her new-found knowledge, her body was relaxing. It was… impressive. Stepping light and quickly, he guided them into one of the graceful turns Solara had taught him only a while before then.
“I do agree, it is quite long.” A pause, then as if he were testing the name, “Well, Shimmer, regardless of titles, it was a pleasure to have met you here tonight.” The tone of his voice was something surprisingly genuine, not condescending, despite his clear intent in having asked her to dance. His eyes were briefly drawn toward the movement from the corner of his field of vision. The ebb and flow of the shadows… there it was again. Her ethereal ability. Had he not the nerve, or the confidence in dealing with her here, he might’ve been more concerned by such a magical display.
If only he’d have guessed what was coming.
Raising his hand, he allowed her the lead as she sought to guide herself into the transitional spin. It was unexpected, but not inherently suspicious. It did, however, draw his attention away from whatever vestiges of sensation might’ve been left in his hand. The injury, having occurred only a month or so before the gala, had happened in his defense of Solara and her ranch. Everything in that smoky night had been a blur, from the men he’d slain, to the bastard who had taken cover in the shadows, holding he and Solara under the sight of a crossbow… Truthfully, it was entirely a matter of luck that any crossbow bolt had hit him so. Then again, perhaps it had been more favorable than his spirited, painted mare having taken the bolt. Regardless, the thing had skewered his hand to his saddle, and the injury had only been worsened further when he fell from it. Solara had worried intensely, apologizing in excess for the ramifications the injury had for him. He had, of course, dismissed her concerns. After all, his right hand was the one he used dominantly with a blade. What he hadn’t expressed was the fact that he had sought out healers, both through official channels among the Immortal King and through his own less-than-scrupulous ones, and anyone and everyone he’d spoken to had been unable to repair such an injury. He’d been told the damage would be permanent, due to an inability to reverse the improper healing which had been done. As it were, as he guided her through the spin, he felt nothing with her probing touch of magic.
And then, she stepped in close, hands grasping his injured one. A shiver briefly caused her body to tremor, the scent of her head so close to his face causing him to briefly catch the sweet scent of her. Connor did not dwell on the proximity or any such pleasantries, because her words immediately caused his jaw to set. In seconds, his expression shifted to something entirely more dangerous. It were as if he were a glass, about to shatter – about to break away from their dance in favor of holding the injury close. He was just about to respond when her soft chant began. “I-” His voice fell away.
The Commander’s toes nearly curled, and not at all in a good way. The feeling inside of his hand – it was indescribable, as if his very muscles and bones were moving from within, outside of his own volition. He held his breath. The feeling persisted. And then, all at once, he could feel her grip, from where she’d taken his hand. The Immortal let out a surprised breath, not quite a gasp, as his eyes widened incredulously. Had she…? Well, if that display was certainly not far more shaking than her entrance.
She turned, regarding him with a smirk that was every bit as bold as before. At once, he sought to control his expression, though he lifted his hand, turning it and flexing his fingers. She really had done it. He felt it, he could move them, could squeeze again. His gaze flicked to her face, studying intensely a moment.
The words that fell from his lips next clearly expressed gratitude, despite her advance having been unsolicited on his part. “Well, perhaps meeting you was lucky for me indeed…” All the more intriguing, given that she was, in that moment, the most powerful person with any kind of healing ability that he had encountered in all of his 2,500 years. He was not about to say that. Instead, the Immortal man locked eyes with her, and slowly bowed his head, as he had when asking her to dance. Taking one of her hands with his newly healed fingers, he slowly drew her knuckles up. With his next words, his lips just barely graced her skin – a contact which most certainly would’ve caused it’s own kind of tingling sensation, as his deathly magic briefly pulsed outward with the contact. It was uncontrolled, wild, and very different from her sort of magic; his own carefully curse, which in that moment, fortunately, did not affect her with any significant potency. “Shimmer.” Lowering her hand, he took a step back, deftly opening up the space between them.
Not so far away, the sound of another bell signaling the formal beginning to their banquet dinner had sounded. In truth, he much would’ve rather continued speaking to her further. However, despite her presence and the newfound fortune of his injury having been healed, there were other pressing matters to attend to. That, and Connor didn’t get the inclination this would be the last time his path would cross with hers. “I need to step out. I hope we meet again.” Pivoting on a heel, with one final lingering look that caused his eyes to practically glow, he was off, his hand once again flexing before him tentatively even as his strides carried him off toward the hall.
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Post by shaecayrn on Sept 26, 2017 13:53:01 GMT
She caught only the barest hint of his expression of shock before it was swiftly tucked away with admirable control. Instead, their feet having stopped actually dancing now, Shimmer met his intense gaze with one of her own, her lips having curved into a deeper smile of satisfaction. Not only had she obviously succeeded at what she had wished to do, but she had shaken him. He was lifting his hand, flexing his fingers as if it was the first time in a while that he had moved them properly. And then he spoke once again.
Some inner part of her delighted in his voice. It was a deep, pleasant sound, hearable without being loud, something that so many people in general lacked. Shimmer could not hide the slightest quiver of her muscles as he bowed slightly, taking her hand in his. Part of her, indeed, debated taking insult at the unasked for and unwanted touch. But such a scene did her no good here, so aside from that shiver, she allowed her hand to raise.
The brush of his lips upon her knuckles caused her to contain yet another shiver, this one accented by inner disgust. Silently, the mage reminded herself that a man such as Connor, and immortal commander who had seen far more in his years than she had, was thanking her. Such small displays held a deeper significance, and to insult him by refusing would reverse what little work she had just done. His voice spoke her name with a new tone, and it came to her almost like a caress, before he released her hand and stepped back, putting a polite amount of distance between them. Even as part of her wished to close that distance, yet another part of her shied away from it. Her smile curved dangerously up on one side, and she answered his polite exit with a wordless nod, an acknowledgement that was far closer to that of a foreign queen than of someone who was unknown and of no particular rank.
Even as he pivoted on his heel, her voice carried after him. "Fare well, Commander. Thank you for the dance."
For a moment, Shimmer looked down at her hand, where it still held a residual tingle from the magic that had pulsed outward towards her, and she flexed her own fingers, ridding herself of the feeling of his lips on her skin. Desperately, she hoped there was something fun to cause mischief with at the Dinner... for otherwise this event was going to be quite droll. Smirking, she strode towards dinner.
((Shimmer Exit))
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