Today Was Not The Day

Khymarah has not had a great day. No siree.

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Khy Marah
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: Wicked Witch of the East!
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Thu Dec 13, 2018 10:43 pm

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
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The auburn haired creature let her nose wrinkle slightly as Drezda explained perhaps the finer intricacies of diplomacy that Khymarah didn’t understand. It was obviously a man’s world, the politics of Anaxas, and assumedly the Hoxian had to play the part to keep those pompous kenser fools in check. The woman had wondered, for a time, if she was broken in some way, undesiring of the menfolk and far more happy with her art than socialising. There had been brief possibilities, encounters as an adult that could have probably been more than Khy had wanted, but she’d gently deflected or blatantly refused.

Thanks but no thanks, you’re not my type.

The very direct question from her brunette counterpart threw the Bastian, and her eyes widened as her cheeks turned a deep crimson, stumbling on her reply even with her liquid courage searing her veins. It was the question of the loose lipped, lubricated by whiskey and a natural Hoxian boldness. Still, Khy had grown up in Bastia and Anaxas. She might admit more to Drezda than she should have, but there was still an overhanging of self doubt and social shame.

“I uh…well not really…no? No. I didn’t have friends in Brunnhold Miss Ecks, and I don’t imagine throwing myself at clientele is appropriate or acceptable.” She found her feet again, scrabbling in the depths where the Hoxian had shoved her, trying to wrap her mind around this conversation. As though it was the most natural thing for two galdori women to be discussing. As Drezda explained things that Khy hadn’t ever truly thought about, the red head focused on not being overwhelmed by the inappropriateness of it all, distracted by the slip of a perfectly painted lower lip between perfectly white teeth, feeling a warmth in her belly from more than just the whiskey.

“My parents know nothing, at all. About anything. Then, to be fair, I wasn’t even sure it was something. I’m not even really sure now, you know? Gods, I don’t even know what they’d say. Mother, maybe, would be accepting on a certain level. Father though? He would call it a…childish infatuation. A fad for the younger generation.” Khy raised an eyebrow and sighed, watching the plume of steam escape on her breath as she contemplated the Hoxian’s bitter words.

”Men are expected to sow their wild oats, provided they don’t produce spawn out of wedlock then society just nods and laughs and jokes about it being just a gentleman’s thing. Women are meant to show restraint and delicacy, purity and grace. Alioe forbid we have such terrible thoughts like those menfolk.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice, another shy smile creeping onto her lips. She might not have shared her bed with either sex, but she knew her so called role in society.

Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, little girl.

“It is rather crisp tonight, I’ll admit. I should have considered that before suggesting we take a walk. Perhaps we—oh?“ Khy paused her suggestion abruptly, her field pulsing slightly with a giddy rush of nervousness. Drezda, the powerful commanding Drezda Ecks, had just invited her to her home. For sane reasons, of course, but for a moment the red head felt a tingle up her spine and a rush in her chest.

It means literally nothing Khy, but perhaps there has been too much whiskey for this. Politely decline and go home before you make a complete fool of yourself.

“Sure, that sounds like a wise idea. I would have been walking in the dark otherwise, and if I’m being honest I’ve had such a poor day that I imagine I could very easily trip and knock myself out on the way. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.” The Bastian drew a hand from her pocket and raised it in a gesture as though to say ‘lead the way’, all the while her smile in place. Of course, they were talking of things no proper ladies would discuss. Admitting things no proper lady would admit. All over a nightcap or two.

But the red head felt a warmth. Not of lustful attraction, but of a kinship. A sudden friendly voice in a sea of unfriendly. A confidant. She didn’t know Drezda enough, or at all really, to know that her perceived friendship might just actually dissipate when the drink wore of, but for a little while the auburn haired galdor could pretend like she had someone that liked her.

Someone who wasn’t there just for her artistry or her family name, a someone who she looked up to. Someone to take a page from, to grow bolder and firmer. To take life and shake it and say ‘it’s my turn.’

Someone like Drezda Ecks.


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Drezda Ecks
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Fri Dec 14, 2018 3:13 pm

Vortas 27, 2718 | Ecks Residence | 25H
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Not really.

Amazing how two words could fill the Hoxian with something close to glee, telling more than a simple 'no' would have done. Perhaps she'd tried, perhaps she hadn't but the young woman had obviously never succeeded in fulfilling anything. She'd wanted to though, Drezda felt, had wanted to test boundaries, to establish her own sense of identity but she hadn't managed it. Instead she'd flowered but hadn't completely bloomed, fresh and unsullied but stunted in her growth, caught on the cusp of something that was yet to be realised. There was no sense in picking a flower that had already fully opened because it was already tainted, death a near inevitability as certain as the loss of innocence.

Pristine, perfect and yet she was what 24? 25? Three years behind her, she'd said so that sounded about right. To have reached that age and to have not indulged in anything carnal... Clock the Circle, surely she'd at least been kissed? But no, she couldn't have kissed a woman before or she would have pushed things further unless she had been guilt-ridden, perhaps drunk when it took place, put down to a silly loss of inhibition, a mistake no matter how intoxicating the experience might have been. If she'd kissed a man... well, that was inconsequential and even if she had, it was hardly doubtful that she would have allowed any man to get anywhere with her.

The Hoxian was honestly... stunned.

To suspect it was one thing but to be told- The passives she'd had liaisons with were hardly as pure, many of them having been gated in Brunnhold at one point or another, or otherwise housed together. It happened, she wasn't one of those gollies who thought passives were celibate - it would be to her disadvantage if they were - and so she knew that the girls she took in tended to have experience of something. The idea of making an introduction, of moulding Khymarah perfectly by making her think that anything she did was the way things were done. How could the redhead say that it wasn't the way things worked when she hadn't a clue?

It was potentially... cruel, but then Drezda wasn't actually a very nice person. The idea of using her that way, well... she wasn't really thinking of the potential consequences beyond the fact that she thought the woman would keep quiet about it. A galdori rather than a passive, the chance to merge fields and feel emotions hum and crackle in the air between them.... that idea was intoxicating.

And the girl was basically offering herself up on a platter, perhaps not realising how easy she was making this. The Hoxian could just reach out and... pluck.

"Good, it's settled then. It's this way," she murmured, inclining her head in slight acknowledgement before she did take the lead, offering guidance although she'd keep her pace so that the artist could easily walk beside her. Not that she had much choice in any case as her dress didn't exactly allow great speed.

As she walked, she steered the conversation back to the topic of female relationships, her words soothing and full of assurances. That this was right. That this was natural.

"There's nothing childish about it, I can assure you. There's something more childish in the affairs that men conduct. Those are mere infatuations. If a woman doesn't allow herself to be led then she matures quite quickly actually. Think of women you know who've broken with what their families might wish, choosing to go into academia or medicine or anything like that. Serious women, determined women. Do you think they don't know their own minds? The idea that we can't know what we want or that being with another woman is like... a game, some play version of what happens with a man. Of course, any man is going to want you to think that," she scoffed, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. The woman felt like she was moving on icy limbs, the prospect of a bath to warm her goose-pimpled flesh a welcome one but she was going to have a guest so that... well, it wasn't totally out of the question, she supposed.

Steady on! she admonished herself although a secret smirk moved her lips on the side that Khymarah couldn't see.

"Men don't want to lose women to other women and women are definitely worthy competition. Why on Vita would you have a man? They're selfish, fumbling beasts. Brutes! They don't know anything about women's pleasure so why bother?" the female diplomat questioned, making a sound of disgust close to the sound of someone spitting. "No, women who settle for men are the immature ones. Duty, they call it. Doing what you're clocking told is more like it!"

She fell silent for a few moments, the only sound the gentle crunch of frost underfoot. They were getting quite close now and the diplomat hadn't quite decided things, hadn't settled what she would do about her prospective pet.

"I don't have issue with obedience, I like it when people do what they're told but... within reason," Drezda added somewhat cryptically, a sly smile breaking across her features, a great deal of restraint having slipped away despite the fact that much of the alcohol's effects had evaporated, no doubt courtesy of the water. Speaking of the water...

When she reached her residence, she pulled the bell, listening to its familiar chimes and the quick hurry of footsteps. The door was opened swiftly, the mousy-haired woman beyond recognising her mistress and attempting to bow a little awkwardly as she pulled the door wide.

"Good evening, mistress. The fire's lit in the parlour and Rosmilda thought that you might want-" the woman began but cut off abruptly when she realised that the diplomat wasn't alone, hazel eyes wide.

"That's fine. You can sort out some tea for myself and my guest. Rosmilda will serve," the Hoxian ordered briskly, some of her former hardness making a reappearance as she unclasped her cloak and all but shoved it into the human's arms. She clung onto it, moving to close the door after Khymarah and then standing ready to take her coat. Once received, the middle-aged woman would scurry off, leaving Drezda to lead her guest into the parlour.

There she found her lover, head bent over her embroidery near the fireside, oil lamp turned down low. She must have heard the door and heard Drezda's voice and step in the hall but she hadn't moved, appearing a little too busy until the woman stepped over the threshold, making a sound of appreciation as the fire's warmth swept over her. The freckled face rose, a hopeful expression on it, lips poised as if to speak before Rosmilda saw Khymarah and her whole face fell. Green eyes darted back and forth between the artist and the diplomat, gaze filled with agony that showed in the liquid swelling in her eyes.

It was just a few moments, a perfect insight into the young passive's feelings before her head dropped, needlework being carefully set aside as she stood.

"How may I be of service, mistress?" Rosmilda questioned, eyes kept demurely down although they were obviously inclined to slide towards the artist - her worthier, galdor rival.

"Cora will be coming with tea. You may stay and serve it then perhaps- We shall see," Drezda murmured, moving to examine what the redhead had been working on, moving around the passive without so much as looking in her direction. She peered down at an autumnal scene, full of leaves in russet and gold hues. A difficult thing to work in near darkness, she thought as she turned up the oil lamp. The servant had probably been worried that she'd be scolded for making use of it. More than likely she'd had it turned up higher before Drezda came in but no matter.

"Attend to my guest, I'll be back in a moment," she told the passive, her tone brisk but softening considerably before she spoke to Khy. "Please, make yourself comfortable, Khymarah. Warm yourself by the fire, you're almost blue with cold," the diplomat laughed, smiling softly as she left to use the bathroom, pretending that she couldn't see how rigid her passive had gone. She'd left the artist alone with a veritable statue, a very, very jealous one.
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Last edited by Drezda Ecks on Mon Mar 25, 2019 9:29 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Khy Marah
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: Wicked Witch of the East!
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Sat Dec 15, 2018 5:36 pm

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
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The younger galdori nodded in tipsy thought as they walked, listening to Drezda’s words the same way a student might listen to a University professor. Indeed, the men she had encountered so far had been pompus, full of themselves and absolutely convinced that the red head should be swooning and impressed by their manly achievements. The Hoxian spoke of them with contempt and rage, the voice of a woman either burned in the past or absolutely clear on her future.

Khymarah got the impression that Drezda was the latter.

Surely there were some men folk out there that were kind, loving and respectful, but even then the painter had no desire to seek them out. They were the mythical beast among the hatchers, that she was more than happy to leave alone. Her mind appreciated the female form, the curve of a hip or the soft angles of a jaw. Lovely long waves of hair and smooth full lips. There was perfect beauty in those little things, graceful and powerful all at once.

Smiling as they reached the house, the auburn creature raised her eyebrow.

“Within reason? I’ve always been obident because it caused less of a fuss. It’s harder to be noticed when you’re not ruffling feathers.” She said softly, looking over the front view of Drezda’s residence with interest. The woman wasn’t close to her own home, but then Vienda was easy enough to traverse that it wouldn’t take long at all to get back by carriage.

As the passive opened the door, addressing her mistress with wide eyes, Khymarah smiled politely and handed over her thick black cloak when prompted. They walked through to the parlour and the red head saw the woman before her, quietly embroiding some scene or the other by far to dim lantern light. The passive’s green gaze passed to the guest, and for a moment the galdor swore she seemed almost in tears. Good Alioe, was having to make tea such a chore for her? Perhaps the work she was doing was sentimental to her.

"Attend to my guest, I'll be back in a moment,"

Khymarah glanced at the brunette, before looking back at the passive. She felt a sense of tension already between the young woman and herself, working to let her field hum with calm. Passives, she felt for. Her own Florence was not at all a demure downtrodden thing, but instead a fiery spirit with a quick tongue and a kind heart. The red head allowed her to be free at home. To read and—Gods forbid anyone find out—to write. Coming into the home of someone who treated passives as Anaxas expected them to be treated was always hard. But harder so when the passive was clearly agitated. No one knew what set their dangerous magic off, so it was safer to tread softly in the painters opinion.

“I..oh..okay sure. Thanks I’ll….yes.” Watching Drezda leave for a moment, Khymarah turned back to Rosmilda with another small smile.

“Hello there. I uh…that’s very good. Have you been doing needlework for long?” She asked awkwardly, gesturing to the embroidered autumn scene. Moving closer to the fire, the galdori held her hands out to the fire and sighed.

“It’s far nicer in here than it is out there that’s for sure. I believe your mistress just about froze her legs off in that beautiful dress.” Letting an awkward laugh out, the artist cleared her throat and glanced around the room.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any tea, would you?” Dampening her field to appear less threatening, the red head moved to perch in one of the lounge chairs, sweeping her thick scarlet curls over one shoulder and lacing her fingers together to rest them on a crossed knee. Her head was fuzzy from the whiskey, but it didnt mean she was stumble over drunk. Still, tea would be good.

Her mind wandered as she wanted, staring into the fire instead of looking at the stiff passive. Morning was going to be interesting, as she would recall over excited confessions to the older galdor with shame. Florence would probably laugh at her, and she’d never hear the end of it. At least the woman didn’t take her gossip beyond the house.

At least the day had ended on a better note than it had began, regardless of what the sobriety of morning would bring.

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Drezda Ecks
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Sat Dec 15, 2018 8:08 pm

Vortas 27, 2718 | Ecks Residence | 25H
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As soon as Drezda swept out of the room, Rosmilda's gaze rose, green orbs scanning her fellow redhead from top to toe. She examined the woman physical form in detail, her gaze surprisingly bold for a passive, especially one in the employ of Drezda Ecks but then this one had been given a great deal of freedom. She traced the curve of her porcelain neck, the swell of her chest, the tapering at the waist before it flared out again. A full-bodied woman, hair richer in shade than the passive's own and her skin... Khymarah did have some freckles but they were fine and dainty, what would be called cute rather than Rosmilda's own, which were thick and heavy, clear to see on her face from a mile away. Beautiful, clear skin that she knew that her mistress would adore. She considered white skin without blemish to be so important and the passive knew that in her eyes this woman was far higher than she.

This artist was galdor and beautiful, everything that the servant could not be. And she hated her for it. Here was a rival that she could never hope to come close to, a rival who if she said she loved Drezda, the diplomat would reciprocate. She had to add insult to injury by trying to treat the servant as a person. Must she try to be nice? Maybe her mistress would break this woman and cast her aside, leave her as heartbroken as Rosmilda now was. Still, if she spoke an ill word to her guest, her mistress would have her hide - possibly literally. If she punished her for her insolence, at least the woman would touch her but it wasn't worth pissing her off.

"Thank you, ma'am. This piece has taken many houses so far. I started sewing at about 5, embroidering soon after. My mother-" the servant explained, breaking off abruptly with a hard bite of her lip. No, life before must never be mentioned, the time when she had been presumed galdor. The servant picked up her word then set it back down again, awkward and uncomfortable in the artist's presence. Why was she feigning interest in her?

However, the mention of Drezda's dress struck a real nerve, making the redhead's temper flare. "She wouldn't take the carriage so of course she was going to get cold wearing it. I would have gotten a bath ready for her once she came home but I won't be doing that now, will I? You'll likely stay for quite some time and the two of you are hardly going to share a bath!"

The waspish comment escaped before she could stop it, the last part in particular grossly inappropriate. To expose her mistress's interests so casually, flippantly. Although given that she'd brought this woman home at night, was it really still a mystery to Khymarah?

"My apologies, ma'am, I should not have spoken so. Please forgive me for my rudeness," Rosmilda murmured, glancing nervously towards the door as if expecting to find the Hoxian standing there. Instead, there was a soft knock and then Cora entered, manouevring carefully with the tray. The redhead rushed forward to take the burden from the elder servant. The housekeeper retreated, leaving the pair alone again. Rosmilda carried the tray to the low table, following an intricate ritual as she dealt with tea leaves and hot water, blending things in the right way.

It was a Hoxian blend, dark and extremely bitter, its colour slightly offset by an off-white syrup made from Snowberries, a traditional accompaniment. The syrup was a mixture of sweet and sour, certainly more the former than the latter unlike in its natural state. Rosmilda had once eaten a Snowberry and her face had ended up puckered, a slight pins and needles feeling in her tongue. It wasn't to everyone's taste but then neither was the tea. Cora had thoughtfully placed some alternative sweeteners on the tray.

She poured the brewed liquid into a cup, adding a measure of cold water to offset the temperature.

"Will you take some Snowberry Syrup? Or would you prefer something else in it? Honey or sugar? I warn you that the tea is very bitter. If you haven't had a Hoxian tea before... I'd recommend something sweeter than Snowberry," the servant murmured helpfully, hovering expectantly over the tea tray as she waited for Khymarah's instructions. She began on her mistress's tea, the woman's preferences well-known to her.

"I- My earlier comments... may I ask that you don't tell my mistress?"
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Drezda took longer than was strictly necessary to make her return. If it had been a simple matter of dealing with her needs then she would have been back within a minute or two. However, once she'd dealt with the effects of the whiskey and water, the diplomat went to her room to assess herself. Eyeing herself in the mirror, she carefully touched up the scarlet on her lips before she unravelled her hair. The decorative sticks were pulled out, the dark locks tumbling free with a slight wave in them courtesy of the way they'd been bound. She considered brushing it to smooth down some of the errant hairs but decided against it, the wave fetching in appearance but sure to be lost if she took a comb or a brush to it.

The diplomat took some time to rub some warmth back into her legs before she padded downstairs, walking in at the exact moment that Rosmilda was asking Khymarah not to tell her something. A frown was instantly on the woman's face.

"Don't tell me what, Rosmilda?" she asked coldly, watching the girl jump, a cup wobbling in her grasp, rattling on its saucer and sending hot liquid sloshing over the side onto her skin. She heard the hissing intake of breath, the girl biting her lip. She cradled her injury briefly before moving to clean up her mess, blotting the spill.

"It was a... a misunderstanding, mistress. I misspoke and inadvertently said something that might be construed as offensive. Possibly," the passive explained, working quickly to finish her tea making as Drezda seated herself on the couch close to Khymarah's chair. She hurried to present cups to both women.

"Construed?" the diplomat questioned, amusement in her voice. She still couldn't help but be amused by some of the vocabulary that came out of the passive's mouth, even after all these months. She cleared her throat, becoming a little more serious again.

"Did she say something offensive?" she asked Khymarah, brows raised. "Go, Rosmilda, I'll speak with you later," she added with a snap, watching as the girl fled with her embroidery, throwing one final look back their way, a mix of pain and wistfulness before she disappeared.

The Hoxian sighed, briefly pinching the bridge of her nose with eyes closed before she straightened and sipped her tea. "I apologise for anything she might have said, she can be quite... insolent at times. She has her uses when she behaves though but... I should do something about it."

She shook her head, taking another sip of her tea. "But never mind her. Are you warmer now? And your tea? Is it all right? I know it's probably more... bitter than you're used to, most beverages here seem quite weak to me but... bitter or not, it is quite sobering. The taste alone does the trick for that!" she laughed.
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Last edited by Drezda Ecks on Mon Mar 25, 2019 9:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Khy Marah
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: Wicked Witch of the East!
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Tue Dec 18, 2018 4:18 pm

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
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Khymarah blinked, absolutely taken aback by the passives outburst, a hand moving to rest on her chest and dual colored eyes wide with shock.

“I beg your pardon?” She said with a scoff, hardly able to process outburst that was gone as quickly as it had come. The scarlet haired galdor blushed deeply, uncomfortable with the strange words and even more uncomfortable with the passive’s anger. Khymarah didn’t do anger. She did kindness and compassion and understanding. She did tolerant empathy when the lower race saw her as any other golly.

But she didn’t do anger.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I’m not sure what ever possessed you to. I’m no threat to your mistress if that’s your concern.” As the tea appeared, the red head looked with interest, curiosity piqued by the snowberry syrup that had come with the familiar beverage. Her gaze watched the hot liquid as it was tipped into a cup, listening with interest.

“I’ll be guided by your recommendation. Sugar please, two serves.” Watching the passives face, she took a moment to think on the comment before opening her mouth to speak.

"Don't tell me what, Rosmilda?”

The voice startled Khymarah, and she glanced up at Drezda, watching her move around the room to sit on the couch, before turning her eyes back on Rosmilda. The Hoxian has freshened up, letting loose her tightly drawn bun to allow raven waves to cascade around her perfectly sculpted face. The younger woman felt her heart racing in her ears and swallowed hard at the warmth pooling in her stomach.

Drezda Ecks was quite beautiful.

Taking the tea cup with what she hoped was a steady hand, the painter smiled quickly and waved the other.

“No of course not. Just a mix up of words, easy to happen. I’ve had more than my share of tongue ties.” She blew on the beverage, looking directly at the passive over her cup, giving nothing away about the outburst. At her core, the red head was still a sympathiser, and she didn’t know what happened behind closed doors. Perhaps Drezda was a firm mistress, which in Anaxas was her god’s given right. It didn’t mean Khy needed to add to it.

Sipping her tea, the woman smiled and shook her head as she placed it down on the saucer in her other hand.

“Not at all Drezda. As you said, unquestionable obedience isn’t always right. Her will, whilst challenging, means she’s loyal in the end. Because you’re holding the key to her bending or breaking. Nothing could keep someone more faithful than that, right?” It felt filthy to say, talking about someone as though they were a broody mare, but it was true in most ways. She’d seen it, time and again, in the children that worked the Soot District. They shouldn’t defend their cruel masters, but some of them did. Some of them had construed abuse for love, in the twisted horrors of their little minds.

Shaking off the uncomfortable thoughts, she sipped again with a bright smile.

“It’s definitely a lot more...uh...vibrant than your standard Queens Breakfast, but not unpleasant. It reminds me of the mugrobi breakfast beverage, kofi? Coffee? Very strong and bitter, needs milk. But sobering, yes, that is a great description!” Balancing the cup on her saucer, Khy ran a finger around the fine rim of the porcelain, eyes drifting to look down at the dark beverage.

“You have a lovely home Drezda. Is it just you? I mean, outside of the help.” She couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the better of her as she recalled the Hoxians previous comments about older friends living together who were really more than friends.

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Drezda Ecks
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Tue Dec 18, 2018 9:23 pm

Vortas 27, 2718 | Ecks Residence | 25H
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Khymarah had covered for Rosmilda and Drezda knew it. And it bothered her. She knew that she wasn't wrong, couldn't be. Months she'd had the girl - seasons! - and she knew her well, intimately so. No matter the girl's faults, tongue ties weren't one of them. It took serious duress for her sure tongue to trip her and given how calmly and eloquently she'd explained the matter, that hadn't occurred. She hadn't stuttered before she described it as a misunderstanding, she'd been deliberating, considering the best term to use to minimise the diplomat's backlash. Whatever Rosmilda had said, she'd said it clearly and without room for slippage. Oh, it might have come out accidentally, the servant intending to keep her to herself but she wouldn't have said something without purpose; the scrap could have a very sharp tongue at times.

Both redheads had lied to her and it was highly bewildering. She could understand why Rosmilda might have done it but what she'd walked in on, what she had overheard together with the lie that the artist could have so easily refuted... What had Khymarah said or done in her absence for the passive to identify her as an ally?

Correctly identified her as an ally. That was something that... disconcerted her. That was the mark of a sympathiser. The Hoxian might fraternise with her passives, positively fornicated with them but she didn't sympathise with them. She hated herself for touching her girls, for ever wanting to and hated herself for those attractions she felt towards those of the fairer sex that were not galdori. But Khymarah must be one because... why else would she have lied?

Still, it didn't matter how thoughtful or potentially perturbed the diplomat might be because as soon as the Bastian commented on her ability to bend or break the passive, Drezda had to laugh. In fact, the timing was unfortunate, the Hoxian managing to bring some of the hot tea most of the way up her nostrils although thankfully she managed not to snort it out. Nonetheless, there was a definite splutter, the woman swallowing hastily and doing her best to hide her amusement.

Oh, she had no idea what she'd just so innocently touched upon although Drezda didn't intend to enlighten her.

"Oh well, she's certainly loyal, I can be certain of that," she replied, her display of humour replaced with more of a frown.

"I shouldn't say it, I know I shouldn't but... I... I love you?"

She could remember it all too well, the pained expression in those green eyes, the shimmer of tears and yet that shred of hope deep within them. As if Drezda would respond in kind. As if she would stoop so low as to love that. But the girl had thought it, believing that her protectiveness of her at the Hanging at the start of Dentis was some indication of higher feeling for her rather than a protection of property - property that only she had the right to damage.

Well, she was fairly sure that if the servant did love her then her loyalty was guaranteed. However, she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her under the circumstances. She hadn't been able to bring herself to touch her in... how many weeks now? The revulsion was too strong, in spite of her needs and desires. Was it any wonder that she'd gone to a bar? Was it any wonder that she'd brought a galdori woman home? It wasn't something that she'd done before. That would have been clear to anyone who'd seen the shock on her housekeeper's face. She did not spontaneously entertain guests and she didn't have friends so to have someone show up unexpectedly was more than a little surprising. She'd surprised herself.

And she was still entertaining the wild notion of bedding the artist. Her enforced separation from Rosmilda definitely wasn't helping matters and she abhorred the idea of sinking even lower, sinking low enough in her wants to willing to touch the passive again. Khymarah was a better prospect, she really was but she couldn't entertain these thoughts.

She mustn't,

Her lips pursed. "It does not need milk," she commented sharply, taking another sip of her strong tea. "You don't put milk in Winter Haven, it would be- It isn't done. It's meant to be suitably bitter and hot and not diluted."

The woman pondered the matter for a moment. "Haven from Winter is a more accurate translation and I'd hope that it doesn't bear any similarity to anything that comes out of Mugroba. They wouldn't know what winter was even if it was dropped on them like a mountain," she retorted, bristling just a little. Any comparison to Mugroba would not be met kindly by the ivory-skinned Hoxian. She had a disdain of heavily freckled faces of many Anaxi so to have completely dark skin...

It was beyond disgusting. Mugrobi just looked filthy. No comparison with anything of theirs could ever be good in her eyes. She set her teacup carefully down on its saucer and placed it on the table, teeth plucking at her lower lip as she did so.

Sobriety was definitely happening but yet it wasn't returning her to her senses. She was still having thoughts.

"I'm the only one here aside from the help as you so aptly refer to the passives. Did you expect there to be another galdor here? Were you wondering if I had a lover squirrelled away in a spare room?" she questioned with a smirk, her tone playful. "Oh, I could certainly accommodate one but... well, I suppose that I'm here for work, not pleasure. The two can be mixed, I'm sure, but I haven't gone to any lengths to do so," Drezda explained, crossing her legs and allowing herself to sink into the sofa a bit, truly unwind.

"Speaking of work, I don't suppose that you paint anything truly interesting? Portraits are all well and good I suppose but I imagine the style is rather... dull. From necessity, of course." A smile worked its way across her features, a true humour in her features now. "I don't expect you to name names but I don't suppose that any of the Anaxi rich ever request anything risque? Any of them have more exotic tastes than they'd like to let on?" she asked, laughing at the notion.

As if any Anaxi would request a portrait that involved any nudity. The notion of it was hilarious but she still wondered if any would risk it. Hire an artist and rely on her discretion so that you could have a piece of art that could never see the light of day. Nudity in a painting was all well and good, certainly but that was art of anonymous people, not people that you knew, people in power.
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Khy Marah
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: Wicked Witch of the East!
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Sat Dec 22, 2018 4:32 pm

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
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As Drezda snapped sharply about the tea, Khymarah’s eyes widened as she began to take another sip, pulling it away from her lips with a shake of her head. She’d clearly offended the woman, but it had been an accident.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean the tea needed milk. I mean Mugrobi kofi. I just…didn’t explain myself very well.” Wincing at her own faux pas, the red head artist took that delayed sip, tilting her head slightly at the Hoxian’s clear dislike of the dark skinned race that lived in the huge desert between Anaxas and Hox. There was a tone to her voice, similar to the tone used by any galdor between here and Bastia commenting on the lower races. Obviously the Mugrobi people seemed to bother the pale skinned woman, and Khymarah was loathe to press on why. She herself hadn’t had many interactions with the people, but those which she had met had never been offensive or rude. Perhaps Drezda had other reasons.

There it was again, the capture of a full lip between pristine white teeth, sending the scarlet haired woman’s pulse racing and her field humming warmly. By the Gods, she needed to stop staring.

Her blush got deeper as the Hoxian diplomat teased her lightly, eyes straying once again to the cup to avoid meeting the dark black of the older womans, chuckling with a dismissive sound and waving a hand.

“I just…I wasn’t sure if…you might have a…friend…I just…yes. Okay. This is lovely tea.” The Bastian stammered with all the grace of a stunned garmon, taking another sip and internally bereating herself for the lack of connection between her brain and her mouth.

You sound like an absolute clocking kenser!

Placing the saucer and tea on the table, Khymarah laughed genuinely and shook her head.

“Anaxi folk ask for something risque? That’s probably the most un-Anaxi thing that could happen. They’d sooner eat a hat then do something ‘improper’. I think, commission wise, the most exciting piece I did was some politician riding a chrove whilst spraying Magma from his hand. Totally made up, but he thought it showed his power or something to that effect.” Pausing a moment, she glanced at the woman with a slow private smile.

“I have my own works, a private collection, but nothing that anyone has seen or paid for. Anaxas doesn’t have the…mentality…for that yet.” Khymarah smirked, brushing her hands over her red skirts with a casual self conciousness. She didn’t show people her private collection, in fact not even Florence had seen it. There were fantastical things in there, like women conversing with birds or wild creatures in their natural setting.

There were however, other paintings in there. Ones that the Bastian culture might better appreciate. Like a Gioran woman naked in the snow, and a Hessean couple stealing kisses in the depths of a drake-stable. They were not appropriate for all tastes.

Finding a sudden streak of boldness, the emerald-saphirre eyed painter drew her own lip between her teeth and looked into the fire.

“Why’s that Drezda? Are you requesting a sitting?” Her gaze flicked back to the woman briefly, before turning back to her skirts with a soft laugh and a press of her hand to her eyes.

“Sorry, that was inappropriate. I have no idea where that came from. Clocking whisky.” Khy muttered with an awkward grimace, before pushing her hair away from her face and reaching for the tea again.

Sober up. Sober up. Come on tea.

"It's getting late, and I am probably not sobering up as I thought I might. Perhaps I should be heading home, before anything else stupid comes out of my mouth. I..I'm not very good. Socially. I have a tendancy to speak without thinking sometimes and it just comes out wrong. I--" Clamping her lips together tightly, the Bastian winced and lifted the tea.

"Anyway." She breathed, drinking deeply of the bitter beverage.

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Drezda Ecks
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Sat Dec 22, 2018 6:03 pm

Vortas 27, 2718 | Ecks Residence | 25H
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She had meant her snapped words but she regretted them when she saw how flustered the other woman became, obviously not having meant any offence but finding that she'd put her foot in her mouth once more. She hadn't meant anything by it, poor thing, and now she might be too terrified to open her mouth again. The woman was ready to retreat back into her shell, a place that she'd been so carefully coaxed out of and which the diplomat didn't want her going back into it when she sobered up either.

Her teasing words earned another stammered reply, the Hoxian smirking as she watched how flustered she was. It was cute but... she didn't want Khymarah trying to do a runner either. She wished that she'd look at her. If she commanded it, would the artist... No, probably not. Not yet at least but then maybe she was willing enough to please her that she'd do anything she asked. She was easier to steer than a kenser from what she'd seen so far.

So tempting.

"Now, now, Khymarah. What did I say about single women and 'friends'?" she shot back teasingly, laughing softly as she shook her head. She finished her tea and set the cup back on the table.

As the Bastian talked about her art, Drezda slipped off her shoes, setting them gently on the floor before she bent her legs, almost tucking her feet beneath her. The skirt of her dress rode up to mid-thigh, the young woman caring little about whether she crumpled the material or not; it wouldn't be her job to straighten it out again. She leaned on the arm of the couch, allowing her to be much nearer to her guest but also more relaxed and intimate. While the redhead didn't seem capable of looking her way for more than a few seconds, the Hoxian was hardly taking her eyes off her.

"Men have poor taste so I'm surprised. Especially politicians. Your private collection sounds far more interesting. I don't suppose that I could see it sometime?" the woman questioned slyly. She was a lot closer when she leaned on the arm of the couch but if she stretched out her arm she could touch the side of the chair that Khymarah was sitting in but it was still that - a stretch. She pushed herself back up, feet touching the floor just as the artist asked if she'd been suggesting a sitting.

The diplomat's eyebrows shot up, a mischievous grin on her lips although Khymarah was already looking away. Damnit, woman! She was going to miss out on far too much if she kept doing that.

The Hoxian stood, padding over to the other's seat. She perched herself on the arm, toes touching the floor, her back to the Bastian although she twisted around so she could look at the redhead. "Would you like that? If I was requesting one?" she questioned, voice soft and only dropping in volume as she continued. She placed one hand on the top of the sofa back, the other under the artist's chin to coax it up so that the other would look at her.

"If you don't look up then how do you expect to see anything, hm? Some artist," she teased with a breathy laugh. Her index finger moved to stroke under the other's chin, wanting to feel the soft skin of her throat. It looked soft, delicate.

Too easy, too tempting.

"It's not inappropriate. You find me attractive. You're flirting with me. Perfectly natural," Drezda breathed as she leaned closer, tilting her head to the side so that she wouldn't bump noses with the other when she leaned in close to press her lips to Khymarah's. Provided that the other didn't pull away, it would be gentle but firm, moving her lips softly but briefly against the other's before drawing back a scant inch, a distance that would allow their breath to mingle.
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Khy Marah
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Sat Dec 29, 2018 7:32 pm

Vortas 27th, 2718
PAPER TIGER| TWENTY FORTH HOUR
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"S—see it?” The red heads voice came out as a squeak at first, before she cleared her throat and took another sip of the tea, heart racing in her chest as she put it back down on the table. Tocking hell why had she told Drezda about those paintings?!

“I uh…well I…maybe just…for you I…I guess.” Her cheeks turned a shade darker as the Hoxian stood up, barefoot as she moved to Khy’s own chair to perch on the arm rest. The Bastian looked up wide eyed as the brunette moved a hand to her chin to tilt her head up, eyes tracing the graceful curve of the other woman’s back as she perched on the chair where she had turned towards her with a wicked smile, swallowing hard at Drezda’s sudden shift in attitude. The younger woman felt a flutter in her stomach, butterflies racing as her mouth went dry.

“You have a beautiful figure…I mean for painting…I uh…I wasn’t…I…” A soft sigh escaped the auburn haired creature as Drezda’s finger traced the soft skin of her throat, dual colored iris’ dropping to the full curve of the other womans lips. Her field drew closer, almost protectively, as the brunette Hoxian dragged her into unfamiliar territory. As the older woman leaned slowly, Khymarah heard her pulse in her ears, frozen under the Hoxian’s sultry words and cool touch.

“Uh…yes. Looking. Sorry. I…” Drezda’s words were breathy, tickling her own lips warmly. The Bastian’s field drew tighter still, contracting with nervousness and anticipation, not entirely sure what she should be doing. Her insticts told her to lean in, but her years of ingrained socially accepted learnings held her back. Alioe, she couldn’t drag her eyes from the softness of the other woman’s mouth, so perfectly formed and delicately stained.

“Natural. Yes—” Her mindless words faded away as the Hoxian closed the gap between them, eyes slipping shut as the warmth of Drezda’s lips pressed against her own in a soft kiss. Her field released in a warm, slow wave, enveloping the brunette in a soothing sense of delight. It was brief and gentle, a perfect first kiss. Khymarah kept her eyes closed as the older woman pulled back, lips slightly parted and breathing shallow. Her head felt light and her hands trembled slightly in her lap. Opening her eyes with a soft sigh, the painter looked over the diplomat’s face, before settling on her lush lips again with a small smile.

“Oh.” She breathed softly, before tilting to close the gap between them again with an inexperienced kiss in return, her mouth copying Drezda’s own movements. A barely audible sound escaped the woman, her eyes closed and field pulsing with excitement at the new experience. Shifting slightly in her chair, Khymarah lingered, enjoying the soft warmth of the Hoxian’s lips.

Bad. Naughty. This is wrong. So wrong.

Her mind screamed at her, what would her parents say if they knew their daughter was seated in the Hoxian Diplomat’s home, drowning in her first kiss…with a woman? It weighed on her, chewed at the back of her thoughts. But oh, the sweetness, it was every explicit novella she’d read in the privacy of her bedroom brought to life. So perfectly perfect. Enough to draw wanting from the red head. She wanted more of it, leaning into Drezda with a deep inhale through her nose, fingers curling into the red material of her skirt.

Shame!

Quite suddenly the woman drew back with a gasp, brow furrowed and eyes still closed tight. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, too loud, and the butterflies in her stomach danced wildly.

“Drezda I...” Khymarah began, unsure of herself and her feelings. The warmth of the kiss seemed to radiate through her entire person, tugging at her core and tingling across her skin. Was this how it felt everytime? To kiss someone?

It was nice.

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Drezda Ecks
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Sun Dec 30, 2018 12:00 pm

Vortas 27, 2718 | Ecks Residence
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Drezda had to be very, very careful with her field. As soon as she grew close to Khymarah, even before she attempted to kiss her, the artist began to dampen her field. It was a little exasperating if the diplomat was honest, the woman certainly not willing to allow her own to become doetoed simply because Khymarah couldn't handle this. She dampened her own a bit, giving the other a chance to come to terms with her nearness but the Bastian's own dampening continued. If she wasn't careful, she was going to hide it altogether and make the mona get pissy.

The young woman could admit that it was odd to go to kiss someone and end up dealing with another field, the possibility of merging quite a strong one. It was so unlike what happened with passives. If she touched Rosmilda or kissed her, there was a total absence, a negative space where she might expect to find mona congregating. Admittedly, there had been times when she'd thought that she could caprise something but the girl was passive, the whole point of what she was was that she lacked so obviously she hadn't actually sensed a field, or anything like one. It was the same with all passives she'd had over the years, even those she'd been intimate with. Not an aura, not a glamour, not anything... recognisable between any of them. And yet-

But Khymarah had a very solid, undeniable field, even if it was being sucked into oblivion. Well no, Drez wasn't going to suffer a doetoed or a dampened field when the other could simply learn to deal with the reality of the situation. So she not only allowed her field to expand to its natural size but flexed, closing the distance between their lips and feeling the other's monic aura whoosh out. Merging after that was frankly easy, the Hoxian allowing her own field to overlap and weave into Khymarah's own as one might allow fingers to interlace.

It was actually a lot, something that the Perceptive hadn't quite anticipated. How long had it been since she'd had intimacies with another galdor? Circle preserve her, it was a lot.

She drew back a little, panting a bit from the headiness of the merge, caprision an unavoidable activity but an oddly intoxicating one. There was so much she could sense but the information went both ways, her own openness and vulnerability a given. It meant that when Khymarah was the one that closed the gap between them, the redhead undoubtedly felt the twinge of irritation in response to the control that she exerted. But there was also the thinnest tendril of fear that was tied up with a ribbon of panic.

This was sweet, undeniably so but she couldn't-

This was too-

There was no control. It was like she'd taken a step and found herself not even teetering on the edge but suddenly in empty space and falling.

There were no secrets here, there was no way to hide the tangle of her emotions from herself or from Khymarah and if she didn't fight it, if she just let it all unravel as the other was doing, so open, so easy to read as conflicting feelings warred with each other then Drezda would feel better. If she let her secret feelings out instead of bottling them up-

She couldn't. She hung onto whatever sense of Hoxian self-control had been instilled in her and fought. She was so concerned with her own emotions that were trying to flood her feelings that she wasn't fully in the moment, had unexpectedly allowed the artist to press her for more rather than the other way. When Khymarah was the one who drew back, it was an unexpected but much needed relief. Gasping the diplomat drew away, propelling herself to her feet at the same time that she broke the merge with haste - too abrupt - and dampened her field. There was a sensation in it, almost a stinging and the speed of it left her feeling disorientated, dizzy so that she got up and basically fell into the couch, holding onto it for dear life to stop herself from falling in a heap.

Too close, she couldn't allow anyone that close to her. What had she been thinking?

Well, she hadn't. Rosmilda had royally fucked up her self-control with her declarations of love, the passive so detestable to her that she'd allowed her lust levels to build and overflow, led her to this.

"Khymarah... it's late. You should probably go," she responded a little woodenly, clawing for something solid and finding the bitch within her. She needed her out. She needed her gone before something broke, really broke inside Drezda. She couldn't have a fling with this woman, couldn't have anything more stable but there had been the draw of power there, power in making her a puppet to her whims. Until she merged with her, understood the potential seriousness of this. The emotions involved.

She couldn't handle the emotions.

This wasn't something that she could have and yet in that moment, she'd realised that it was something that she very much wanted.

Not this, never this, not for her. The other was too good, too soft and gentle and pure and innocent and she didn't need Drezda in the mix.

Drezda didn't deserve this.

And it was pulsing through her field, not entirely dampened after all but broadcasting frustration, bleeding her own upset and self-loathing as she fought back the urge to cry.

"This was a mistake, I shouldn't have brought you here," she added, the bitch's claws digging in deep while her owner leaned against the couch, back to her guest, eyes closed as she tried to breathe, tried to weather this.

The truth was that she didn't want Khymarah to go at all but she was hoping- no, relying on the fact that her words would hurt enough that the other would want to leave. That she wouldn't have sufficient wits to caprise her properly and feel the truth of it, even now as her self-induced loneliness began to settle in with heartbreaking despair.

She just needed sufficient control to be able to open her mouth and call for a passive because she didn't trust her legs to carry her to one of her servants, didn't trust herself not to collapse in a heap of self-misery.

This would hurt Khymarah and she knew it but it would be better in the long run, much better. The diplomat just needed to summon the strength to kick her out properly, have the carriage organised, have her ushered out.

Just not yet.

She couldn't yet.
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Last edited by Drezda Ecks on Fri Jan 04, 2019 9:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
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