Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-23 16:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, aspel cassul, jareth monaco |
You and me, we've both got sins, I don't care about where you've been...
Who: Jareth, Ari, and Aspel
What: “This is your problem.”
Where: The Armory/Aspel’s apartment
When: After this
Rating: Kind of R-ish near the end
Status: Complete
She had finally quieted down - thankfully - as he’d made his way through the streets, taking back alleys when he could and avoiding any crowds. Last thing he needed was rumors to start about him and Chiaro - that’d be a fucking nightmare. By the time he got to The Armory, he was breathing a little quicker and he was in a worse mood than he’d started the night with. The one good thing about carrying the damn woman was the he knew she didn’t have shit on her. So even if he brought her to the station, she wasn’t the one they were after. (Unless she was so fucking inept that she didn’t realize she was supposed to take anything.) They could charge her for something, he was sure, but that was a waste of fucking time and paperwork. Better to let Aspel deal with her. He lifted his free hand to knock. Useless, really; he could probably just walk in, and it would be less conspicuous than standing outside of a Councilor’s shop with a woman tossed over his shoulder. Still, no way was he entering without permission. So, he knocked and waited. It would take a moment to realize what the noise had been, and for it to really draw her attention enough to make the smith accept that she’d need to get up. A low groan was earned, followed by a huff of air. Insertion of a bookmark would be the first step before the tome was closed, and set down on the couch by her side. Why would anyone be knocking at this time of night? Mag had her own key, Ari would normally send a message first, as would Vivi or Rictor. Had Rictor ever come over this late? Her brow knitted. Something had to be wrong. Aspel’s heart leapt into her throat, what if someone was hurt? Maimed?.... Dead… ? Oh Faram. No. Please, no. A brief detour would be taken to snatch up a bathrobe, and wrap it around the minimal outfit she’d been lounging around the livingroom in before making her way down the stairs. But what if it was an intruder? A thief of some sort? A frown would pull at her lips, her hammer snatched from its stand in the supply room before it would be laid to rest against the back wall of The Armory. Certainly, if it was a robber, she could grab it quick enough. Though, if someone was hurt, she’d need to run back upstairs… Or what if it was another attack? Sighing, Aspel stepped up to the door, pulling back the blind for a second to see…. Faram. Opening the door, a rather unimpressed frown had found itself lodged across her face, one hand remained on the doorknob while the other pulled at the robe. “And the meaning of this?” Ari had realized where they were going shortly before their arrival and had commenced with attempting to get loose in earnest; sadly, Jareth Monaco had a grip like steel (she would not be surprised if she had bruises in the morning), and so here she was, hauled to Aspel’s doorstep like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. Turning her head to see the mistress of the house was awkward (Jareth was, of course, carrying her slung over his shoulder backwards for optimum embarrassment, damn him), but she did it; the annoyance which had long ago overtaken fear was writ plain on her face. “May I speak now?” she asked, venom dripping from every word. In truth, this could get even worse -- of all people to be brought to in this situation, Aspel was not her preference -- but it was better than the courts. Probably. And in her defense, she was (for once) innocent. Mostly. Jareth, beyond ready to hand the bard over, met Aspel’s frown with a glare. “This,” he said, using his free hand to point at the woman slung over his shoulder, “is not my problem.” To him, this explained everything, but he knew it wouldn’t mean a damn thing to Aspel. “She was climbing out of the window of a house that had just been robbed,” he added, shaking his head. “If you don’t want to deal with her, I’ll haul her ass to the courthouse and let them deal with her.” “I didn’t take anything!” Ari insisted for what seemed like the fifteenth time. A dissatisfied smile, strained, and seemingly ill humored in some regards - a look likely not used since finding something displeasing in the Guard - surfaced. Her mouth opened for a moment with a slight forward, half nod of her head. “I do believe you are the one who has come to place a woman upon your shoulder, therefore, in that instance, it has become your problem. However,” Each word seemed disconnected, carefully selected, and uneasy. A tone, also reminiscent of a time when dire challenges faced them before, many, many years ago. “it would appear you wish for your issue to become mine from your stance, and appearing upon my doorstep at such an hour.” Stepping back, a hand waved for Jareth to move into The Armory with the bard slung over his shoulder. “No.” The singular word was a firm, hard command. There was no rush, no insecurity, but a definite end to the conversation of Jareth hauling Ari off to another place. “This shall be dealt with here.” A hard turn of eyes on the man would be offered, a hand gesturing passively for the berserker to release the smaller woman into the shop. Once they had both moved in, the door would be closed. Clearing her throat, Aspel gestured for Ari to take a seat, and shot Jareth a business oriented look, one similar to when they would need to coldly hash out the details of missions and death all those years before. “Who did the window belong to?” Aspel’s tone and expression were entirely unfamiliar; perhaps this was why, when released, Ari obediently stalked over to the counter and pulled herself up to sit on it, feet dangling off the edge (the thought of leaving did occur -- repeatedly -- but she had a feeling she was better off trying to explain this now rather than later, and the thought of Aspel turning that derisive, cold tone on her… no, better to stay). “Viscount Argent,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Who was robbed, by the way -- not by me, I think I’ve mentioned this -- and is probably wondering why the peacekeepers never came.” Though then again, if Jareth had -- as she suspected -- been tipped off by the thief himself, then maybe the peacekeepers had come. At this point, she really didn’t care, considering everything was bungled anyway. He knew that tone, and immediately straightened. Ari beat him to the explanation, so he patiently waited until she was done protesting her innocence. He was reminded of a line from a play: methinks the lady doth protest too much. The thought brought the ghost of a smile to his face, but he made sure it wasn’t noticeable. Any variation from routine would not be tolerated, he knew. (Except that this routine was years old and unused. That had never mattered to him, though; he’d gladly fall back into any role that they wanted of him.) “There were two other EKP officers behind me,” he said tersely. He wasn’t a people person, and since the fucking victim was a member of Parliament, he’d had to make sure someone who could talk to the fucker was around. Brows rose, seemingly unimpressed still, and an elongated sigh escaped. Clearly, patience tried and mostly bordering on some other emotion that she hadn’t quite reached yet, but threatened to form at any time Aspel’s arms crossed over her chest, the toes of one foot beginning to passively tap at the floor beneath her feet. “I am certain the EKP is doing their job, I would not allow it to function any other way.” The words were curt. “As for Miss Chiaro’s involvement,” A passive glance of annoyance, was turned on the other woman before Aspel’s eyes ventured slowly around the room. “I would advise it be kept unspoken. Certainly, our member of parliament would not wish for his affair to be made public. It rarely does well for one’s image.” The words were passive, dismissive, and aggravated, before a hard gaze turned up to catch his eyes. “Understood?” While there may have been question, her tone clearly dictated it more as command. It wasn’t like he could say no, fuck you, the bitch was climbing out of his fucking window because he’d brought her there for that fucking reason. Well, more because Ari was fucking Aspel - he was pretty sure of that - and he didn’t want Aspel’s name dragged through the fucking gossips because Chiaro was a sloppy fucking thief. “Understood.” He waited to be dismissed rather than just wandering off - Aspel seemed to be in a mood, and he didn’t want to do anything else to earn her ire. “Good boy.” The words slipped out, unbidden, but it seemed the best fit in this instance. A raising of shoulders was taken before arms unfolded, and dropped easily back down to hang at her sides. Looking from Jareth, to Ari, and then back, a sigh was given before her glance fell away, a hand dismissively waving the man off. “I believe you have fellow officers that will be questioning your disappearance if you take too long, no?” Hopefully, that would be clue enough for the man to leave, and Aspel would give it a few minutes to be sure. Yet, before Jareth was completely out the door, the smith would pipe up one last time. “And Jareth?” A pause, allowing him to respond if he so desired. “Your axe. I expect it by the end of the week.” Hopefully, he’d understand precisely what she meant there as well. He nodded, only slightly confused about the comment about his axe. Why the fuck was she-- Oh. Another nod, and he was out the door, making sure to close it behind him. Ari sighed, the world-weary, deep sigh of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said. There really was no way around it -- Aspel had very tidily gotten her clear of being charged with breaking and entering (regardless of the fact that she hadn’t committed a theft, that crime would be very hard to argue away, though she would have tried anyway). A pause before she said, quietly, “Sorry for… waking you.” Although Aspel apparently had the skill of looking rather fierce and in charge even in a bathrobe, it was obvious their intrusion had been… untimely, to say the very least. The hardness of expression still remained, a hand absently pulling at a tie of the bathrobe to assure it remained appropriately closed as Aspel shifted, turning to check the door was closed, and locked after Jareth’s departure before allowing herself to take in the bard that remained perched upon her counter. Silence permeated the air, eyes rolling over the other woman before her - examining - as the smith’s back remained towards the front door. Ari spoke, and then the bard spoke again, and Aspel remained silent the entire time. “I was awake.” Was finally how she decided to answer, all other responses in this instance, were less than desired. “Right.” Another uncomfortable silence descended (and really, how long had it been since there had been uncomfortable silence between them?) and Ari fidgeted in her seat. “I suppose anything I say won’t matter at this point?” she said with another sigh. Damn, she’d gotten off clean, so why did she feel so rotten about it? She couldn’t even come up with a way to joke it off, which was a first for her. Really, she thought crossly, if the city suddenly fell under attack right about now she wouldn’t even be surprised -- everything else had already gone wrong. “I’ll go, if you like,” she offered. Aspel did not seem in a mood for company, particularly hers. “That depends upon which words you use.” Aspel’s own tone, and delivery seemed carefully selected once again, a certain withdrawn quality still seeped in around the roots of each word. Though, was there anything Ari could say to make this better? And honestly, what exactly did Aspel feel about this… Well… That was a bit more difficult than not she had to suspect. “What you will do,” Aspel began slowly, a definite amount of care still present in the words, “is retreat upstairs into my quarters, and prepare yourself for the bedroom.” Of all things Aspel could have said, it was fairly certain Ari hadn’t expected that one. “Pardon?” she asked, knowing she was staring foolishly, for the moment unable to school her expression. Not that she wasn’t happy to sweep all this under the rug (hopefully never to be spoken of again) but… “That sounds a bit like an order,” she said slowly. And while she was grateful for the alibi, she also felt… strangely discomfited by this (Aspel’s voice and expression, so hard and unfamiliar except for glimpses caught here and there these last few months). A brief moment slipped by as Aspel cleared her throat, a hand rising to press knuckles against her lips with the action, the generally smooth action seemed stiff, the smith’s entire body a bit off. “Pardon.” Came a singular word to follow the action, and her hand fell away before eyes turned back upon the bard. “I believe, what I said was, that you shall be staying here tonight.” Wetting her lips, slowly, the hard edges, and coldness was beginning to peel away. “If Jareth catches you out again, it is likely that you may find yourself with greater issue before the end of the eve.” A singular finger rose, pointing towards the ceiling as if to hush Ari - just in case the other woman was to attempt to speak - before Aspel began once more. “Additionally, this will give you an alibi for the rest of the night. You were here, we had tea and coffee, engaged in acts of entertainment, and you spent the evening over. In the morning, I would advise you wait to leave The Armory after the Bazaar has mostly opened, - assuming you do not have work before that time - stop along at a couple of the shops, make a purchase or two, and then continue on as if tonight was simply another eve in which you came over, we had dinner, and then...” A word died in her throat as it scraped along the back of her mind. “engaged with each other as we normally do. If it would be more beneficial to your story that we leave together, please let me know when is best for you to leave and I will accommodate as appropriate.” By the end, of her words, the smith seemed to have shifted, started coming back to the person Ari knew her to be, but it wasn’t without a sort of rough struggle. The transition even within her between what had been, and what still was, was a hard one. It was a change that Aspel herself was still unsure of how to cope with in many ways. “If you do not desire my company this eve, then I will assist with your alibi as you wish.” Now a drastic shift in tone had occurred, her voice dropped, something close to seeming almost…. distressed, perhaps even a little hurt, lingering around the edges but not fully emerging while eyes dipped away, looking at the forge. Admittedly, the notion of Ari with a secret life, the other woman’s morals perhaps being nearly as twisted as Aspel’s own was… oddly alluring in its own way. “That’s not what I said,” Ari responded. Her back had gone up, but she relaxed a little now as Aspel spoke. Surely, she had just misunderstood? This was more like the woman she knew, even if she seemed… strangely distant. Ari didn’t like that, either, but it was better than the cold, uncomfortable feeling she’d gotten from Aspel’s previous words (as if her rescue came with expectations which Ari was not willing to meet; that sort of thing had never been a price worth paying in her mind). “And he wouldn’t have caught me in the first place if it hadn’t been for -- no, you know, never mind,” she said. “It probably doesn’t matter.” No need to get into this Fox nonsense right now; that would come later. Maybe tomorrow. She’d have to talk to Audrey… “If that is how it is,” she continued after a moment of silent thought, “then yes, thank you.” I didn’t expect it of you, but thank you all the same. Not that Aspel didn’t have her own stories of skirting outside the law (in ways considerably more drastic than Ari’s, if it came to that) but even so, a Fighters’ Guild councilor, covering for an alleged thief? A strange life they led. “If you actually want me to stay,” she attempted, “I’d rather stay.” Do you recall what you said to me about asking questions, she didn’t add. She thought, if prompted, she might actually try honesty -- and if not, perhaps she would allow the matter to fade away (and hope, somewhere in the corner of her mind, that it did not irreparably damage their… friendship). An eyebrow rose at the beginning of Ari seeming to start in on another story, but then it just as quickly faded away, and a brief frown flickered across her face before a sort of neutrality reclaimed it once more. A thought emerged to push, to ask Ari what she was dismissing, but at the same time, perhaps she’d done enough to offset the entire mood of the evening that night, perhaps she’d… Then the bard spoke up again. The thanks seemed almost shrugged off, Aspel seeming to pass by it, before paying clear attention to the new words. “I often wish for you to stay.” It was the truth, but it left the smith feeling like she’d emotionally just been socked in the gut at the same time. Eyes wandered over to where the hammer had been leaned against the wall, a hand idly gesturing towards the stairs. “Then upstairs would be much more comfortable place to continue this conversation, no?” A glance was given over her shoulder checking the lock quick once more. “Yes,” Ari said, “all right.” She couldn’t deny that she felt a little thrill of gladness at the statement, but the whole situation was just… so immeasurably awkward that she didn’t know how to express it, her good humor replaced for the moment with the sort of discomfort she rarely allowed herself to feel. “Shall we go up, then?” The words continue this conversation, implied that they would, at the very least, say something more about all of this. She tried not to be too concerned about it (the worst had already been avoided), but her steps were not as sprightly as usual as she followed the other woman up the stairs into the living area. There was a book right in the middle of the couch, giving credence to Aspel’s words about being awake (though of the two of them, Aspel was not the liar this evening). Ari thought of offering to make tea -- this place, and that ritual, were so familiar by now -- but held herself back, perching on the edge of the couch instead, studying the book as though it was terribly fascinating for a few moments. “I… am uncertain which words you want me to use,” she ventured at last. A roundabout way of saying, if you ask, perhaps I will tell you. There was only a passing “Mm.” of confirmation before Aspel found herself leading the way into the backroom - replacing her sledgehammer on the way - and then up the stairs, and locking the apartment door. Distance would be allowed for a moment while Ari moved to make herself comfortable and the smith shifted, uncertain of how to continue herself. Though, it would appear that once more, Ari was able to speak. Pausing, Aspel stayed by the door, unsure of how to progress, but carefully picking apart each thought, and sentence that came to mind would not assist in this night at all. The best thing to do was to simply talk, to go about this conversation like she would any other, to... “What precisely were you doing?” Well, perhaps that wasn’t precisely how she would normally go at this, and maybe it wasn’t the best way to go about it, but it would be the quickest, and likely, would get them to the real point they needed to with… Hopefully, the greatest success. Which… Success at this point in the game would be the most she could hope for. “Attempting to climb out of Viscount Argent’s window unseen,” Ari answered. Which fact had already been shared, granted, so perhaps she needed to elaborate… “He’s going to be very annoyed come morning,” she said. “He’s missing a family heirloom,” And the pay for it -- assuming the Fox got a similar rate -- was going to be rather extravagant. What a failure. She sighed. “I really didn’t take anything,” she said. And then something -- trust, maybe, or gratitude -- compelled her to add, “I would have, if someone hadn’t gotten there before me.” There it was, then, out in the open, an admission of conspiracy if not larceny. “He -- she -- I couldn’t tell -- probably alerted the EKP. Some idiots like to advertise their exploits.” Her derision towards this practice was crystal clear. “I started out the evening a few steps behind, so…” She shrugged, “That’s all, really.” A slow nod was given as her mouth opened, then closed, and eyes shifted across the room, seeming to be trying to take something in, but not finding what she was looking for. “So,” a low hum hung in her throat. “I am to understand you to be a thief, no?” The question was a bit hesitant, but not rude, cold, or angry, it simply was Aspel attempting to understand precisely what was being said, to be sure she had properly grasped the situation as a whole instead of just one tiny piece. Ari the thief, skulking about in various places she ought not to be…. It was a curious thought, something she could find herself believing in some twisted way though. Had there not been actors, liars, thieves, and other even within the Guard? A matter she’d need to think over more, obviously. Taking a moment, a glance was then offered back to the door behind her, assuring it to be locked before the smith’s stance seemed to ease a bit, arms leisurely crossing across her stomach, and eyes turned to the floor. Just what had she gotten herself into here? “Sometimes,” Ari said. “Mostly, I’m a bard.” She thought of her forays into semi-organized crime -- Miles’ band was that, at the very least -- but that wasn’t her secret to tell. This, though, had been her own project. She wasn’t betraying anyone -- not her friends, not her guild. Just a singer with an… unfortunate hobby. And Aspel didn’t seem upset by the matter, curiously enough. “As I mentioned some time ago,” she said with a shrug, “everyone lies, some more than others. But I’ve always been a firm believer in… doing what one is skilled at.” “Mm.” Was all the only sound initially, a consideration and confirmation of the information offered to her from the bard… thief? Mostly bard? before her. They all did have their secrets, now didn’t they? Aspel’s stance shifted, but she still didn’t move. Had Ari stolen things from her? It wouldn’t seem a likely idea, especially with how long they’d known each other and the type of relation they’d grown to have at this time. “And what other skills may you have of which I may not know?” Finally, Aspel’s eyes ventured over to look at Ari properly, perhaps even to catch the other woman’s gaze if Ari so desired. Ari met her gaze, refusing to look down or away. This was not, perhaps, how she might have wished to share such information about herself (honestly, her preference had been not at all), but all things considered it could have gone far worse. “Getting into places I’m not meant to be, turning myself into someone I’m not, disappearing when necessary. The latter two are perfectly legitimate occupational skills, even if they carry over. The former is just… convenient.” For the first time since they had arrived upstairs, a faint smile arose on her face, not entirely certain, but at least reminiscent of her usual good humor. “There is also another set of skills with which you are, I think, somewhat familiar; still, if that offer to adjourn to bed is still open, I think I may be able to dream up something new with which to surprise you.” And now you have all the secrets I am free to share; hopefully, this will not be a judgment error on my part. The list was tucked away, a slow nod offered in response to the new set of skills she’d previously been unaware of. A set of abilities like that could be terribly useful in a number of ways. “Can you move about while unseen?” It was a curious question, a consideration instantly given to how the other woman’s skills may appropriately mix if given the chance to do so, but… If Ari could be unseen and play at the same time, then why hadn’t she already done it before? It seemed unlikely that Ari would be capable of such, yet if one never asked, than one would never know. Though, when Ari came back with the… Slightly more mischievous offer, Aspel couldn’t help the hard swallow that seemed to come naturally along with it. “Is that… So?” A low throaty hum seemed to come up almost instantly after, and her gaze lingered away from the other woman for a moment. A sort of weakness was beginning to be found, perhaps she’d be better served by telling the other woman, perhaps not, but somehow, the smith had a feeling she was about to find out. “I can’t,” Ari admitted, “but I can’t be ousted by magic, either, which tends to be the weakness of the portable version, so I’d say it balances out.” She could stay still a good, long while when necessary. And that wasn’t a refusal (nor was it an agreement, but really, a few steps back were frustrating but not insurmountable) . “That is indeed so,” she said. Had she been a braver or more confrontational sort, she might have pushed, might have asked, and your opinion on all of this? But she wasn’t those things, and when given the opportunity to let sleeping dragons lie, she tended to take it. Still, she couldn’t resist saying, “If you’ve a willingness to share your bed with an occasional thief, I am fairly certain something can be salvaged of this evening after all.” “That would seem a balance of some sort, yes.” Not being turned out by spells was quite some trick, there were few things - or people - that could boast such natural ability as to be capable of throwing of the shackles of melee or magickal combats with such ease. Perhaps, that was something that could be of use to more than just a bard…. Though… The amount of time and energy that would go into attempting to learn such a thing. The thought was shaken off, it would be considered for another time. Another thought flickered through her head at Ari’s new line, something a bit out of character even perhaps, and it was shucked off as well. Where had she gone this night? Aspel attempted to put the thoughts away, leaving the idea of comedy alone for now, a mildly pained smile was offered before she spoke. “You have taken to sharing yours with a murderer without concern.” Which was a complete fact, Aspel would never deny this, and even Ari knew it, had witnessed the smith beat a man to death with her own eyes. “I see no reason as to why a few stolen goods - assuming you are not stealing from harmless impoverished mothers and children - would be reason for us to come to a parting of ways.” Really, thievery was the least of their concerns. Ari shrugged and said, “Impoverished mothers and children own little of value; why steal from them when there are so many disgustingly rich nobles with fat insurance policies? It seems we don’t have a problem.” The fact remained unspoken that Aspel seemed genuinely penitent over her actions while Ari had displayed no intention of reforming. Quite the pair they made, even so. The thought was strangely pleasing. Thoughts for another time. She rose from her seat then to walk over to where Aspel still stood, experimentally invading the other woman’s personal space, though her hands rested on Aspel’s shoulders lightly (the easier to pull away if the invitation was unwelcome, after all) and she did not lean in for a kiss quite yet, though she found she very much wanted to. “In this case,” she said, “considering we’re meant to have been at this most of the night, I do think we ought to get started. For… verisimilitude.” And to catch up on all the time wasted in unproductive endeavors this evening. “Mm, then it is none of my concern, and if it is brought to my attention, I have no qualms playing alibi.” The words were painfully dismissive, as if this were hardly even worth seconds of consideration at all. The amount of time she’d spent in her life listening to nobles cry over pithy matters would surely make up for a few of their things going missing in the end. Surely, if they were as well off, and brilliant as they claimed to be, their goods should not be so easily parted from them. “Started..?” There was no pull back, or leaning away from the other woman’s touch, but an eyebrow did carefully raise. However, an instant desire to shift, to place her hands upon Ari’s body, yet at the same time an insecurity of sorts still floated about her head. “I fear I know not of what you speak,” Aspel shifted slightly, a hand moving to gesture towards the kitchen. “The half drank bottle of wine did not manage that by itself.” Of course, the bottle of wine sat in the kitchen, unopened, and untouched, something they would need to fix before long. Eyes finally turned down once more to look upon the bard before her. “And the song you sang earlier was quite beautiful, my apologies once more. I had not intended to nearly tear up so.” The words were spoken a bit flat, but also with an odd sort of sincerity. “You shall need to remind me of the piece again, what was it called?” If they were going to claim an alibi, then they would - of course - need the details worked out. “Drunk by you, of course,” Ari pointed out, surprised (and rather delighted, truth be told) by the turn the conversation had taken. Rehearsals were in full swing -- no one who knew her would expect her to be drinking, and the point of an alibi was realism, after all. “Thank you for the coffee. And the song? Si mes vers avaient des ailes. Not the easiest name to recall, if one is not versed in the dialect; no one can blame you for forgetting.” She beamed up with her sweetest smile, adding, “It is quite charming a cappella, isn’t it? Fortunate, since I was scatterbrained enough to forget my mandolin tonight. I’ll have to sing it for you with accompaniment another time. Remind me.” “But of course.” Aspel easily added on. “Half a bottle is barely a dent most nights.” Finally, a faint, soft smile began to slightly creep upon her lips. “You are quite welcome, if you had not noticed, I have taken to stocking it with the frequency I find you waking here.” A definite tenderness emerged, eyes even softening a bit as she looked down upon the other woman, her hands still not entirely sure where to go. “Ah,” A nod. “I would not be surprised if you need to tell it to me another dozen times before I properly recall.” The new question earned a low “Mm.” the gentle smile remaining. “Of course. I shall not forget.” Finally, a hand ventured up, fingers coming to caress over Ari’s cheek gently, as eyes roamed the other woman’s skin, and eventually began to take a down turn over Ari’s body. “And your desire for the rest of our night?” Following such a statement the smith couldn’t help but wet her lips. Faram, there was just something about the entire night, this situation, that felt so…. Right. Like knowing this new piece of Ari, this bit of difference, a darkness of sorts, just helped everything to really fit. It was rather attractive, all in its own right. Well, Ari thought, it was a comfort to know that this, at least, hadn’t changed. “Hmm… well, I’ve somewhat lost my taste for being carried for unfathomable reasons, though if anyone can change my mind by carrying me to bed, I suppose it would be you. But I do think we ought to make our way there in one way or another, by and by.” Now she did lean in, initiating a slow, lingering kiss, feeling warmth spread through her at the response. No, this hadn’t changed. Pulling away slightly, she murmured, “In the process, my shirt will become torn, quite impossible to mend, alas. You will have to lend me one of yours tomorrow.” The sight of Arielle Chiaro, bard, in head to toe clinging black would raise eyebrows otherwise; with one of Aspel’s tunics instead, she would simply look a bit debauched -- a much more harmless perception. "Have you? A pity." The words were no more than an absent mumble as Aspel found herself falling into the other woman's cues, her arms finally moving to wrap around the bard's waist, and returning the kiss was easy. An attempt was made to let it go on simply, but it was hard considering the circumstance at hand, and as Ari pulled back, Aspel found herself leaning in, attempting to prolong the contact but failing. "Easily arranged." The notion of removing the shirt in such a manner was more than appealing. "My apologies in advance." Was barely managed as hands shifted moving grip at the hem of the material. It was better to get things like this started now than later, clearly. With that thought, Aspel leaned in for another kiss, hands beginning to make short work of the shirt material below them. The offer to change her mind was still on the table -- Ari didn’t feel the need to restate it, considering she was quickly becoming far more occupied with more interesting and pleasant things. “Make it up to me,” she suggested, shortly before Aspel’s lips descended upon hers. Though really, who could possibly complain about a bit of torn clothing once in awhile, especially in such circumstances? She could always replace the shirt, she thought as the sound of ripping fabric sent a delicious little shiver up her spine. Why not simply enjoy? She answered the kiss with equal fervor, surprised but by no means complaining when it grew quickly in intensity, her own hands now tugging at Aspel’s clothing. No further concerns remained about any of this spoiling… anything, really -- if anything, Aspel seemed almost more eager than Ari might have expected, given this situation. Only when the kiss broke came a low, breathy, "I shall find a way," before fingers pushed at the remaining fabric, directing it away so that hands could caress up, and over the newly exposed skin to press gently against the bard's jawline, directing her head carefully away so that her tongue, lips and teeth could begin to trail down the other woman's neck. With hands left free, they easily smoothed back down Ari's sides, coming to rest upon the bard's hips, before her grip tightened on the spot. Yet, they would remain only briefly as her own clothing had yet to come off, first the bath robe, then she was left in nothing more than a tank top of sorts, and panties. That promise was certainly enough to heighten the anticipation. Aspel had yet to disappoint as a lover, a fact which pleased Ari a great deal. She was quite willing to move her head as directed; with her hair pulled back from her face in a tight braid, her neck was left exposed to the other woman’s whims, a fact of which Aspel seemed willing to take full advantage. Ari found herself sighing with the first stirrings of pleasure as lips and teeth and tongue teased her sensitive skin. The knot on the robe had already been untied by Ari’s hands, so it was easy for their combined effort to push it to the floor. The bard found herself smiling at what little remained underneath, the thin fabric doing little to conceal the toned body beneath. It was her turn now to grip Aspel’s hips to pull the other woman closer, her thumb tracing over the upper edge of the brand upon her hipbone. The sudden shock of feeling hands fall to her hips, and the touch so close to her brand earned a sharp gasp. Which of course, would only assist to push the driving urge in the pit of her stomach, lips rising would move to press against Ari's, this kiss less the gentle, warm meeting of lips that had occurred seconds before, and more of a heated, crushing force. Hands shifted, moving to grab at the bard's body before her, taking ahold of whatever she could manage to first, and using it in an attempts to push the woman back quickly, a bit hard - but not harmfully - back against the wall if Ari would so allow. The next action was simple, an easy follow through on the expressed actions so far as one of Aspel's legs would attempt to nudge between the other woman's pressing up against Ari. With a light growl as her head leaned forward the smith's tongue would run up along the bard's neck in one long stroke before teeth carefully scraped against Ari's earlobe. "I believe we have yet to christen this wall, no?" A heavy, lust laden whisper breathed hot air against the other woman's ear before a nip was taken right below her earlobe. Ari’s back met the wall, her head saved from thwacking against it by Aspel’s hand. Since their first such encounter, they had taken ample opportunities to slow down and enjoy each other, but this, it seemed, would be a case of hard, fast desperation. She couldn’t complain about it, though the little bit of sense she still commanded did wonder just how this had escalated to this level so quickly. She pulled Aspel more tightly against her, more than happy to be pinned between the other woman’s body and the wall, pressed tightly against her leg. “That --” a gasp as teeth nibbled a particularly sensitive spot -- “was a terrible oversight on our part.” Her hands had made it under the thin fabric of the flimsy tank, moving up to caress the skin beneath. “Especially considering how worked up you seem to be --” her head dipped down so that she might explore the skin below Aspel’s collarbone with her lips -- “the bed seems far too long a distance to travel.” “Indeed.” The smith confirmed to Ari’s observation, teeth beginning to place slight nips down along the other woman’s neck. Consideration of perhaps leaving a mark lingered not far behind, and a deep longing pulled at her insides. Though, the feeling of hands moving over her skin earned a sharp inhale of air, and then the bard’s lips earned a pleased sounding huff. The semi-question, but mostly comment, would almost be lost in the smith’s own desires to feel, and taste the woman below her, but - perhaps thankfully - it wasn’t completely. A low hum would be caught in her throat. “It is quite far.” With those few words, Aspel’s leg would press up, rocking against the other woman while a hand shifted down to pull at Ari’s pants. As Aspel’s undershirt landed on the floor to join Ari’s recently destroyed shirt (and it was entirely possible there might be a rip there, too, from Ari’s own haste, but really, sacrifices had to be made), the bard let out a breathless, delighted laugh which ended on a hitch of breath and then a moan as Aspel’s leg pressed against her. Of all ways tonight could have ended, she hadn’t expected this one. It was almost as if… “Lucky us, then,” she managed to say (really, where else was one going to find a Fighters’ Guild councilor seemingly aroused by tales of illegal activity? Clearly Aspel was one of a kind), “that we have never overwhelmingly felt the… need for a bed. Come here.” That was the last coherent thing she said for some time. |