reblogged 6 days ago on 17 September 2014 WITH 938 notes »reblog
via amandaonwriting // originally word-stuck

 ”…what absolute fool would be so pathetic?” Capricia quirked a brow as she glanced towards the grey-eyed redhead holding the book open. 

  “I d-don’t k-k-kn-know…?” Vivienne Daube hunched her shoulders a bit, blinking behind her glasses. “I m-miss Lytha and K-Khurn, but they have t-th-t-things to d-do. They’ll be b-back when they can.”

  With an arched brow, the blonde elementalist smirked and plucked the book from Vivienne’s hands before she tossed it over her shoulder. Ignoring the Scholar’s aghast expression at such disrespect to a tome, Capricia tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Now, you were going to help me find a poem of some sort to gently break the news to my Wolf?”

  “…you r-re-really n-need s-so-something like th-that?”

  Capricia paused, brows lifting. “What an excellent point. Do wrap up the books I selected, they’ll make for fine reading while he’s away.” 

word-stuck:

pacalai பசலை

answered 1 week ago on 12 September 2014 WITH 1 note  
via chris-etlantes // originally chris-etlantes

#: "Kneel," the garnet-haired courtesan said, a smirk toying at the corners of her mouth. In one hand, a short whip swayed about her ankles.



chris-etlantes:

The Krytan bent down onto one knee, keeping his right hand on the risen leg, while the other hung at his side. He lowered his head for a few moments, and then gazing back up at the dominant woman. “Does this amuse you, mistress?”

Saville laughed throatily, peridot eyes glinting as she swung the whip through the air with a negligent twist of her wrist. “You have no idea…” With a smirk towards the corner of the room where the white-haired Radaj stood, Saville brought the whip down with a snap of leather against flesh.

Posted 1 week ago on 10 September 2014 WITH 4 notes »reblog

{Yes, another character. No, I don’t care. It’s a Wachenfeld, AT LAST!}

Posted 1 week ago on 10 September 2014 WITH 7 notes »reblog

It squeaked.

That was the first irritant that she noted when she began to move about in the leather gear that she’d carefully selected from the assortment available in the shop. Capricia wasn’t adverse to practical garments- after all, one couldn’t wear silk and jewels for absolutely everything- but she had certain standards. The buckskin leggings were a delight; they fit perfectly, showed off her legs in a manner she found appealing and allowed for a freedom of movement that both skirts and heavier armor did not. Her boots were of the same soft material, treated to be water resistant, and her usual dancing grace allowed for silent walking when she wore them.

The vest, however…

While it fit admirably to her curves, the leather was of a stiffer material and had the slightest inclination to squeaking when she bent. Capricia’s lips pursed as she turned back to the mirror and she examined herself critically. 

"The boning in the vest, you say it’s absolutely necessary?"

On the man’s face was the expression of the greatly put-upon and his exhalation was slow and precisely cotrolled. “Yes, madame. The boning is part of the protective nature of the garment. It’s designed so a blade cannot be easily slipped between the ribs.”

"Mm."

"It is cut to allow for freedom of movement while guarding madame’s finer assets," he said, the struggle with impatience clearly written on his face. "Madame’s figure makes it necessary for a particular style."

One pale brow arched and Capricia didn’t bother withholding a laugh as she looked at the merchant in the mirror. “Does it now? Very well. This same style, but I’ll have it without the boning under the leather.”

His jaw tensed. “Madame, I have explained the necessity of the boning and it’s purpose in prote-“

"Yes, yes. You’ve been very verbose about such a thing." Capricia waved a negligent hand in the air. "And I’ve told you precisely what I want. You will bring me one that does not have the boning beneath the leather. In… a dark green." Yes, that would be just the thing. While red had its’ place and she did so love how it set her hair off, the Leours colours would have to be, by necessity, her first choice. After all, wouldn’t her Wolf come completely alert at the sight of her in properly coloured leather? The elementalist smirked as she turned, striking a pose to examine the length of her thigh outlined in the snug charcoal leather. 

As if she needed additional protection from blades… Capricia nearly laughed at the merchant’s set expression and the annoyance stamped on every inch of his body as he stalked into the storeroom. Smoothing a hand across her hip, the blonde grinned at her own reflection, tiliting her left hand to let the sunlight play across the opal adorning her ring finger. Just as everything else in her life was little more than a game to be played, so this training she was going to request from her darling Medea Wachenfeld would be. 

And my, wasn’t it going to be delightful to see Noel’s expression when he found her atop Hawksbury, dressed so? She’d have to remember to send Ulrecht a particularly thoughtful gift for the idea.

Posted 2 weeks ago on 6 September 2014 WITH 7 notes »reblog

{Learning how to include animated gif images in my static GIMP creations; a couple of iffy attempts so far, but I’m somewhat pleased with this one!}

Posted 2 weeks ago on 4 September 2014 WITH 9 notes »reblog

THEIR BLOOMING LOVE

  The latest thrilling romance from Winter Quartermaine! Witness the lovemaking of the upper echelon! Witness their unbridled passions, the unchecked desires that throb wildly beneath silken brocade and satin breeches!

“No, Gwenar, my angel, my dove, my delicate rose, the violet light of my icy life,” Delian rasped in his throaty, deeply masculine voice. His long-fingered, manly hands squeezed her delicate wrists as he flexed the boundless muscle barely concealed and so wildly emphasized by the heavily embroidered aubergine velvet stretched across his broad shoulders. The porcelain-skinned highborn lady with the hair of firelit amber gasped breathlessly, her fragile fingers trembling helplessly in his powerful grasp. 

  “I… I always hoped you would say such,” Gwenar murmured, her fluttering lashes swaying with the tremulous ardor rising through her veins like heated maple sap. Moist lips of pliant velvet were offered demurely as she waited, trembling hopefully in his desirous grasp, to see if they would be taken.

   

    Read more to experience the unleashed lust of two nobles tearing asunder the boundaries of their upbringing! In stores around Divinity’s Reach now!

answered 2 weeks ago on 4 September 2014 WITH 5 notes  
via chris-etlantes // originally chris-etlantes

* for a drunk text; @ for a middle of the night text



chris-etlantes:

*: “To that blonde-haired chick I saw at the tavern today. Your cleavage was like BAM.”

@: “To Mrs. Quinn Rilley, on her challenge (that was conducted in secret) to see if her coffee is sugary. It is. I can hear shapes and see voices. It is the middle of the night, and I can think I can hear Mordremoth raising another tentacle from my desk.”

 Capricia glanced down and smirked as she adjusted the lay of her bodice. “Mm, it really is.”

  The redhead glanced over and then blinked, not quite following the reference. Her attention diverted, she leaned over to the drawing of the square she had made and tilted an ear, striving earnestly to hear it.

Posted 2 weeks ago on 4 September 2014 WITH 6 notes »reblog

 With the smoke rising, he could only cough as he scrabbled across the scorched earth. Dirt and pebbles raked at his burnt flesh, but there was no time to pause and try to ease the pain. He couldn’t even draw his limbs beneath his body in order to rise. No muscle responded well enough to allow him to run, so he crawled, clawing frantically at the ground to drag himself along as swiftly as he could. 

 ”Oh, come now, we’re certainly not done yet.” 

  The light, cheerful voice sang out nearly above him and he coughed into the blackened ground, choking on the dust as a delicate foot was introduced beneath his ribcage. One gentle push rolled him onto his back, and the Separatist looked up into the sparkling blue eyes of the woman who had decimated his band of fellows. Her lips were set in a charming smile, and only a few bits of ash clung to the pale skin that the cut of her gown revealed. “Surely you’d not thought to scamper off and leave me wholly unsatisfied?”

  “Just let me go you psychotic bitch! You BURNED EVERYONE!” He coughed as he spat the words at her, smoke lining his throat, and a burn cracked beneath the pressure of her boot as she leaned her slight weight onto his chest. 

  “Now, now. Language, mmm? Do remember you’re in a lady’s presence.” Pale golden hair swayed about her shoulders as she tilted her head, lips curling into a thoroughly amused smile. One of the daggers she’d used to wield whips of snapping lightning shone at her hip and the other was shaken at him, the tip shining. “You’re already rather well done. It shouldn’t take much more to add you to the smouldering remains of your fellows, no?”

  “You’re just BURNING PEOPLE!”

  A sprightly laugh sounded as she took several dancing steps back, avoiding the clumsy swing he aimed at her ankles. “Oh, no. Certainly not that.” Her eyes gleamed with flame alive behind the blue of her irises. “It is simply this. I am to be wed soon, or I do rather hope so.” Now she skipped lightly behind him as he rolled onto his stomach and clawed at the hem of her skirt. Laughing sweetly, she leaned down and exhaled a thin trickle of hungry flame. 

   ”I am the last of the Vetrov bloodline,” she said, smiling fondly down into the man’s burning face, her voice melodic beneath his screams. “And my maiden name should have a proper funeral pyre.”

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