Post by Joliette Thorne on Jul 27, 2007 8:48:33 GMT -5
Ancauail simply nods as his gaze turns from it's perusal of the door, where once Dertah left, the mysterious challenger intriguing him, "The dwarf does not serve the best ale, in the land. It is oft watered down and now is not fresh. It is a wonder he has not been slain by an angry patron."
Tenebrae stares at the reptilian. "No.. it is blood wine. Adulterated, fermented.. blood. Not fresh. I crave a more.. lively source to appease my thirst."
Ancauail nods, his apparent ignorance seeming not to bother him in the slightest, "Ah, so you seek to feast upon the blood of another. What about the dwarf here, take from him what he most prizes."
Tenebrae casts a disarmingly sweet smile toward the elf.
Andrew nods in return to Tenebrae before swiftly taking a seat.
Tenebrae cants her head toward Ancauail, a swathe of jet hair falling in her eyes. "They are little, and tough. I prefer a more delicate feast. Though I fear the effect of such cold comfort.." She glances at the near-empty bottle on the bar before her. "Has assuaged the worst of it. Famine or feast, 'round here, it seems."
Ancauail 's lips spread heavenward, crimson scaled vocal estuaries spewing forth a monotonous fury of speech, "Not long have I been in these lands, though from what I have seen, it appears to be in a lull of sorts." A white clad serving girl passes by, looking up at him as he makes no move to allow her passage past him, grinning sadistically down upon her, he speaks, "If I were a mountain, would you not go around me…?" A single razor sharp fang comes bared, making it clear that he wishes for her to do so.
Tenebrae smirks, the strange draconian's cruelty to the wench raising her level of interest by degrees. "A lull indeed, when those who claim to be the best of men," Quick glance toward the door, whence Dertah had departed. "Might be distracted by the leerings of a pixie in rut."
Ancauail said to Tenebrae, "Your tongue is indeed acerbic, stranger, and interesting conversation is something I do always enjoy. Perhaps I will even get the blood for you."
Tenebrae lofts a slender brow, the shapely jet arch raised over a peridot eye. "I am able to hunt for myself. But I do appreciate the offer." The lowering of her head to him somehow translating less as a mark of assent than an opportunity to look him up and down. "Most kind of you, sweetness."
Ancauail 's brow swiftly arches, the ebon swirling upward upon his pallid features, "Sweetness, an endearing name for one who clearly is not sweet. And yes, I am sure you are more than capable of protecting yourself…" The draconian suddenly bursts into dexterous action, appendages flying forward toward the vampire, stopping inches from her face, "…should need arise."
Tenebrae blinks not, the scaled digits a mere hands' breadth from her vulnerable eyes. "You'd not be wrong there, my lovely. Though rarely need I display as such. I far prefer wiles to warfare, though am not adverse to sucking dry the husk of a true enemy." She reaches out, slender parchment hand laid upon the calloused scaly appendage of the other, lowering it gently. "And I can spot those at fifty paces."
Ancauail allows his arm to be lowered, "Ah, guile is which you seek to revel in the uses of cloak and dagger. Interesting, I could do with one such as you…" As if taken by swift reverie his eyes veil over and only after a few moments does he return, not upon the same topic, "At fifty paces you say, what see you now?"
Tenebrae looked at Dusk.
Tenebrae looked at Andrew.
Tenebrae 's verdant gaze swifly scans the reaches of the tavern, returning in moments to the draconian's grim visage. "At fifty paces, a potential meal and a waste of space. At three paces.." That smile, twitching the corners of those rosy lips. "Things become much clearer. I see there the possibility of alliance.. of challenge. Of a chance for something to do, other than hang about this godforsaken pub, waiting for a half-decent and inevitably luke-warm conversation."
Ancauail simply smiles, "Well then, let us take this elsewhere." A clawed digit points toward the door.
Tenebrae slips from her seat, arching her back to stretch, cat-like. "If you insist." She saunters in the direction indicated by his razor-tipped digit.
Ancauail tosses stray strands of ebony villous from his crimson gaze, "I shall let you chose where, as this place is muchly new to me."
Tenebrae turns her jewelled gaze to the sky, the flush of dawn still apparent on that wide expanse. Lips the hue of crushed rose petals open, a gutteral ululation emerging from the flawless whiteness of her throat. Moments later, the sky darkens, a susurration of silken wings bringing an immense flock of corvines to land on roof and gable. "They call it a murder, you know... a group of crows, that is." A slight nod, to assert her point. "Follow me."
Tenebrae said, "North, then west. I'll wait for you."
Tenebrae tidies herself - no need to look scruffy, is there, in fine company. She stands, coltish legs bare of thigh from hem to top of boot, her stance easy. "Now.. what was it you had in mind, sweetness?"
Tenebrae equipped necromancers staff.
Ancauail said to you, "I hope you do not seek to use such a weapon, m'dear."
Tenebrae addresses the question. "It's really just a big stick. And I do make it a habit to walk softly.."
Ancauail 's breath turns bated, his eyes washing over Tenebrae in a tide of perhaps lust or hunger, maybe both, "I will not tarry pretty words with you, stranger, I seek one who will share in the tyranny that I shall spread, one to work in the shadows, while I block the sight of others."
Tenebrae laughs softly, stepping back into the shade of the great tree. At once a veil of darkness looms across the space, obscuring the woman from the draconians' view. Seconds later, she appears to his perception, but only as a blur of movement suspended by slender arms from an overhanging bough. A flurry of vicious and well-aimed kicks, launched directly at tender snout and latch of throat. Just as quickly, the swing carried her back, fingers releasing to drop her into the comfort of her beloved shadows.
Tenebrae said, "Like that, you mean? Or were you speaking metaphorically?"
Tenebrae stares at the reptilian. "No.. it is blood wine. Adulterated, fermented.. blood. Not fresh. I crave a more.. lively source to appease my thirst."
Ancauail nods, his apparent ignorance seeming not to bother him in the slightest, "Ah, so you seek to feast upon the blood of another. What about the dwarf here, take from him what he most prizes."
Tenebrae casts a disarmingly sweet smile toward the elf.
Andrew nods in return to Tenebrae before swiftly taking a seat.
Tenebrae cants her head toward Ancauail, a swathe of jet hair falling in her eyes. "They are little, and tough. I prefer a more delicate feast. Though I fear the effect of such cold comfort.." She glances at the near-empty bottle on the bar before her. "Has assuaged the worst of it. Famine or feast, 'round here, it seems."
Ancauail 's lips spread heavenward, crimson scaled vocal estuaries spewing forth a monotonous fury of speech, "Not long have I been in these lands, though from what I have seen, it appears to be in a lull of sorts." A white clad serving girl passes by, looking up at him as he makes no move to allow her passage past him, grinning sadistically down upon her, he speaks, "If I were a mountain, would you not go around me…?" A single razor sharp fang comes bared, making it clear that he wishes for her to do so.
Tenebrae smirks, the strange draconian's cruelty to the wench raising her level of interest by degrees. "A lull indeed, when those who claim to be the best of men," Quick glance toward the door, whence Dertah had departed. "Might be distracted by the leerings of a pixie in rut."
Ancauail said to Tenebrae, "Your tongue is indeed acerbic, stranger, and interesting conversation is something I do always enjoy. Perhaps I will even get the blood for you."
Tenebrae lofts a slender brow, the shapely jet arch raised over a peridot eye. "I am able to hunt for myself. But I do appreciate the offer." The lowering of her head to him somehow translating less as a mark of assent than an opportunity to look him up and down. "Most kind of you, sweetness."
Ancauail 's brow swiftly arches, the ebon swirling upward upon his pallid features, "Sweetness, an endearing name for one who clearly is not sweet. And yes, I am sure you are more than capable of protecting yourself…" The draconian suddenly bursts into dexterous action, appendages flying forward toward the vampire, stopping inches from her face, "…should need arise."
Tenebrae blinks not, the scaled digits a mere hands' breadth from her vulnerable eyes. "You'd not be wrong there, my lovely. Though rarely need I display as such. I far prefer wiles to warfare, though am not adverse to sucking dry the husk of a true enemy." She reaches out, slender parchment hand laid upon the calloused scaly appendage of the other, lowering it gently. "And I can spot those at fifty paces."
Ancauail allows his arm to be lowered, "Ah, guile is which you seek to revel in the uses of cloak and dagger. Interesting, I could do with one such as you…" As if taken by swift reverie his eyes veil over and only after a few moments does he return, not upon the same topic, "At fifty paces you say, what see you now?"
Tenebrae looked at Dusk.
Tenebrae looked at Andrew.
Tenebrae 's verdant gaze swifly scans the reaches of the tavern, returning in moments to the draconian's grim visage. "At fifty paces, a potential meal and a waste of space. At three paces.." That smile, twitching the corners of those rosy lips. "Things become much clearer. I see there the possibility of alliance.. of challenge. Of a chance for something to do, other than hang about this godforsaken pub, waiting for a half-decent and inevitably luke-warm conversation."
Ancauail simply smiles, "Well then, let us take this elsewhere." A clawed digit points toward the door.
Tenebrae slips from her seat, arching her back to stretch, cat-like. "If you insist." She saunters in the direction indicated by his razor-tipped digit.
Ancauail tosses stray strands of ebony villous from his crimson gaze, "I shall let you chose where, as this place is muchly new to me."
Tenebrae turns her jewelled gaze to the sky, the flush of dawn still apparent on that wide expanse. Lips the hue of crushed rose petals open, a gutteral ululation emerging from the flawless whiteness of her throat. Moments later, the sky darkens, a susurration of silken wings bringing an immense flock of corvines to land on roof and gable. "They call it a murder, you know... a group of crows, that is." A slight nod, to assert her point. "Follow me."
Tenebrae said, "North, then west. I'll wait for you."
Tenebrae tidies herself - no need to look scruffy, is there, in fine company. She stands, coltish legs bare of thigh from hem to top of boot, her stance easy. "Now.. what was it you had in mind, sweetness?"
Tenebrae equipped necromancers staff.
Ancauail said to you, "I hope you do not seek to use such a weapon, m'dear."
Tenebrae addresses the question. "It's really just a big stick. And I do make it a habit to walk softly.."
Ancauail 's breath turns bated, his eyes washing over Tenebrae in a tide of perhaps lust or hunger, maybe both, "I will not tarry pretty words with you, stranger, I seek one who will share in the tyranny that I shall spread, one to work in the shadows, while I block the sight of others."
Tenebrae laughs softly, stepping back into the shade of the great tree. At once a veil of darkness looms across the space, obscuring the woman from the draconians' view. Seconds later, she appears to his perception, but only as a blur of movement suspended by slender arms from an overhanging bough. A flurry of vicious and well-aimed kicks, launched directly at tender snout and latch of throat. Just as quickly, the swing carried her back, fingers releasing to drop her into the comfort of her beloved shadows.
Tenebrae said, "Like that, you mean? Or were you speaking metaphorically?"