Feverish air filled her lungs, arid as it was, did little to hinder the light banter betwixt the two sharing an awning of one of the shops. The sunlight filtered through the clouds, giving some reprieve to the beams of torrid heat that lanced down upon the desert. It was here that she was sent, but not alone, the Commander had become are of how the two worked, especially when an assignment was given to the both of them. He was no fool, though not oft finding himself in the field, he had eyes in the forest, and knew just how well acquainted the two have become. It was no surprise that she stood at the side of Yvelont this day, dressed in her usual farce while watching the denizens pass them by.
Ruddy lips pulled into a smile while fingers curled around his arm; golden depths were set on his features now, especially as those walking the street before them dwindled in numbers. The rough pads, of her fingertips, rose to brush at his chiseled jawline, gingerly caressing at the flesh. She guides him to look down at her while her jovial expression melts away and reveals the harsh, stern demeanor, painted across her sun-touched features.
Whispered words spilled into the space shared between them and Rivienne's body leaned forth, allowing the dress to stretch until stressed. It was her lips that threatened to brush the shell of his ear, and if anyone saw the two, it would have appeared to be a tryst taking place.
“I have information that the gathering will take place tonight, a quaint dinner, where our guests will be present.†Lashes lowered, giving her eyes a hazardous appearance, “When night falls, our invitations will be waiting for us at the Sunsilk, the tailor there is also well aware of the task at hand.†Her nose brushes his cheek and she continues, even as his arm snaked around her waist, making sure her frame was molded to his. Their act did not draw the eye; people turned away and she chuckled softly before continuing.
“You were told not to draw your blade, yet,†the baritone came from his lips softly, gracing her ear as she pulled back so their eyes could meet. All the while, a free hand roamed over the round of her hip, dancing along her thigh, until feeling the strap she had, and more importantly, the all too familiar knife she carried on her person. His lips twist into a smirk as his nose brushed her own. "..I find that you barely separate yourself from it."
“..The Commander spoke to thee, then. My blade will not be drawn, unless it is blood they seek.†Her hand snakes down to fall over his own, curling her fingers over the back of his hand. Lashes brush at his cheek and she looks down, trailing his hand back to the swell of her hip. “Or if they draw harm to thee, I will rip their heads from their necks,†it was a promise made, for threats were never fancied to be taken lightly. Unfortunately, it would also mean that their cover would be blown if she went for their throats suddenly.
He took a hold of her chin and motioned her to look at him. Concern was written plainly across his countenance and he furrowed his brows. For a moment, silence enveloped them and the chattering of those walking past was all that could be heard. It was this simple look, this motion, that reeled her back to some semblance of control. Gingerly, he pushed auburn hair and tucked it neatly behind her pointed ear.
“Remember the words we shared, this life is not only yours,†he murmured while a finger rose to press to his lips. She began to pull away from him with a sway and a smile that rivaled that of a snake's. He found it enticing, though knew well what was behind such a serpentine look. Ruthless, cold, dangerous. Yet..
“..And thus, I shall be careful to not let it go to waste. I live two lives, the one shared with thee is far too precious.†Rivienne concluded while sweeping a hand to the split of her skirt, exposing gratuitous flesh, sculpted by strenuous exercise and kissed by the scars of combat. Fingers sought the sheath of the blade, where she tapped gingerly before fabric folded over and concealed her once more. With that said, she turned away from him, giving a glance past the slope of her shoulder and meeting his gaze one final time, before they had to prepare for tonight's events.
Ruddy lips pulled into a smile while fingers curled around his arm; golden depths were set on his features now, especially as those walking the street before them dwindled in numbers. The rough pads, of her fingertips, rose to brush at his chiseled jawline, gingerly caressing at the flesh. She guides him to look down at her while her jovial expression melts away and reveals the harsh, stern demeanor, painted across her sun-touched features.
Whispered words spilled into the space shared between them and Rivienne's body leaned forth, allowing the dress to stretch until stressed. It was her lips that threatened to brush the shell of his ear, and if anyone saw the two, it would have appeared to be a tryst taking place.
“I have information that the gathering will take place tonight, a quaint dinner, where our guests will be present.†Lashes lowered, giving her eyes a hazardous appearance, “When night falls, our invitations will be waiting for us at the Sunsilk, the tailor there is also well aware of the task at hand.†Her nose brushes his cheek and she continues, even as his arm snaked around her waist, making sure her frame was molded to his. Their act did not draw the eye; people turned away and she chuckled softly before continuing.
“You were told not to draw your blade, yet,†the baritone came from his lips softly, gracing her ear as she pulled back so their eyes could meet. All the while, a free hand roamed over the round of her hip, dancing along her thigh, until feeling the strap she had, and more importantly, the all too familiar knife she carried on her person. His lips twist into a smirk as his nose brushed her own. "..I find that you barely separate yourself from it."
“..The Commander spoke to thee, then. My blade will not be drawn, unless it is blood they seek.†Her hand snakes down to fall over his own, curling her fingers over the back of his hand. Lashes brush at his cheek and she looks down, trailing his hand back to the swell of her hip. “Or if they draw harm to thee, I will rip their heads from their necks,†it was a promise made, for threats were never fancied to be taken lightly. Unfortunately, it would also mean that their cover would be blown if she went for their throats suddenly.
He took a hold of her chin and motioned her to look at him. Concern was written plainly across his countenance and he furrowed his brows. For a moment, silence enveloped them and the chattering of those walking past was all that could be heard. It was this simple look, this motion, that reeled her back to some semblance of control. Gingerly, he pushed auburn hair and tucked it neatly behind her pointed ear.
“Remember the words we shared, this life is not only yours,†he murmured while a finger rose to press to his lips. She began to pull away from him with a sway and a smile that rivaled that of a snake's. He found it enticing, though knew well what was behind such a serpentine look. Ruthless, cold, dangerous. Yet..
“..And thus, I shall be careful to not let it go to waste. I live two lives, the one shared with thee is far too precious.†Rivienne concluded while sweeping a hand to the split of her skirt, exposing gratuitous flesh, sculpted by strenuous exercise and kissed by the scars of combat. Fingers sought the sheath of the blade, where she tapped gingerly before fabric folded over and concealed her once more. With that said, she turned away from him, giving a glance past the slope of her shoulder and meeting his gaze one final time, before they had to prepare for tonight's events.
![[Image: jqza5eX.png]](http://i.imgur.com/jqza5eX.png)
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.â€
Rivienne Delacroux ♚ Bowmaiden's Tumblr
