House Rashmi
New
The Mountain Endures
Roleplay posts: 5 
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:38:25 GMT -8
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Post by House Rashmi on Aug 5, 2017 9:32:52 GMT -8
 A suite of room, located inside the manor proper, belonging to Layla Rashmi . Entering from the hall, a visitor would first encounter a large room, dominated in the center with a large dance floor. Around the outside, comfortable seating is available for visitors and guests, as well as a baby grand in one corner. The walls are decorated with paintings of flowers and pastoral scenes, and vases of blooming roses in all shapes and colors rest on virtually every flat surface. Further in, her private chambers have a large, soft bed, and hardwood furniture. The decor here is dominated with charcoal drawings of Layla’s family through the years, going back to her first pregnancy and following to the present. |
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 5, 2017 9:41:16 GMT -8
Layla gently pulled -Deleted- into the suite of rooms, shrugging out of her coat as she skipped through the door. Despite all the running and playing, the little priestess apparently still had enough energy left that she was bouncing with each step, rather than dragging herself along as might have been expected. Perhaps something in the room revitalized her, or perhaps it was simply her nature. Whatever the cause, the bittersweet moment from the garden had passed, and she was all happiness again, now. She released Circe’s hand to skip and twirl across the dance floor, her long hair flying out behind her, mindless of the scuffs and dings her armored boots and spurs would certainly leave in the hardwood. She called out as she approached the door to the inner rooms, “if I get out of all this metal, will you dance with me tonight?” |
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Aug 6, 2017 6:52:15 GMT -8
Circe awkwardly followed along as Layla pulled her around the manor and leads her toward the suite, not seeming to object beyond the typical, mild, and apparently inescapable discomfort that seemed to occur whenever someone attempted to touch her. Even so, she did not seem overly bothered by this turn of events - though she did wince slightly as Layla began to carve away at the floor with her spurs.
"You'll dance, I'll stumble around. But if you really want.." Her tone was far from questioning, almost matter-of-fact when she called back. Circe was an almost remarkably unskilled dancer, in spite of whatever sort of swiftness or grace she displayed elsewhere, and her time with Layla had done very little to help. Even if she had improved, she'd swear up and down that she was as bad at it as she'd always been.
But then again, Circe would claim a lack of skill at almost anything, and whether it was borne out of some odd sense of humility or a low opinion of herself was debatable.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 6, 2017 12:09:26 GMT -8
Slipping into the back, Layla practically tore her armor off. It took several minutes to remove, of course, but she carelessly dropped the plates wherever they fell, noticeably speeding up the process. This was followed by equally careless discarding of mail and arming coat and all of it. A quick pass with a damp cloth to remove a bit of the sweat of the day, and she was more or less ready. Then she reconsidered, and pulled a loose blue cotton dress over her head rather than returning to -Deleted- in the buff. Like all of her dresses, it was ankle-length, and like most, it had long sleeves and a high collar as well. At first glance, the only visible skin was her face, her bare feet, and her hands. Upon closer inspection, the thin fabric of the dress and the complete lack of underthings revealed the first impression of modesty to be largely an illusion. She skipped back into the larger room with a wide smile and a merry laugh, reaching for Circe immediately. She leaned against the elf and places her hands on Circe’s hips, gently guiding her to find the slow, swaying rhythm. Layla had been dancing since she was a child. It was her first passion and for much of her youth, her only joy. She had trained in many styles, and and moved with an uncommon, almost supernatural grace. To Layla, dancing was literally a holy communion with her goddess. And yet, she never commented on Circe’s lack of skill. She didn’t tell her a step was wrong or clumsy or graceless. She simply found the joy of dancing with someone so close to her heart. |
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Aug 6, 2017 16:10:27 GMT -8
Circe waited by the door, going so far as to turn herself away from the sounds of metal falling to the floor, only to look back toward the sound of laughter soon after. She shifted around when Layla set her hands back on her, but as apparently usual, didn't do anything to prevent her from doing so. Perhaps interestingly, Circe kept her gaze firmly on Layla's face, possibly out of some sense of politeness or professionalism. "..Welcome back-" Her reply was short and slightly clipped, seemingly cut off as Layla immediately moved into the dance.
Layla was clearly the better dancer - if anything, Circe's complete lack of skill would make her seem better through comparison, which itself might be the only kind thing that could be said. Even with someone far more graceful leading the dance, Circe was clumsy and rigid, almost mechanical in her movement as she made some effort to mimic Layla's movements. She was always at least a step behind, her own half of the dance lacking in fluidity. Even so, she seemed to enjoy it, at least as well as she showed any sort of joy.
And as much as she seemed to dislike Layla's marring of the floor, she would inevitably do the same as the pair danced, her own boots scuffing at the wood as she worked into her awkward, graceless rhythm.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 6, 2017 18:46:11 GMT -8
Layla leaned against Circe, guiding her through the steps and giving quiet words of encouragement, punctuated with soft kisses along her neck and cheek. Layla had a particular skill as a dancer in making her partner look better than they were, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. Actually, that isn’t true. Layla was a priestess and the hand of her goddess in the physical world. She was a conduit of tremendous divine power. Despite her own protests, many in the faith considered a living saint. She was, quite literally, a miracle worker. But even she lacked the ability to make Circe appear to be a skilled dancer.
But she didn’t care. She cared that Circe had chosen to join her in what was one of the great joys of her life. That they were sharing this together. She cared very deeply for Circe, and the connection had grown substantially over the years, after all. She valued their moments of closeness.
The also valued an excuse to practice her other particular skill as a dancer. As she danced, leaning against Circe and without breaking the graceful rhythm of her steps, she quietly began slipping off the elf’s clothing. “Will you stay with me tonight, darlin’?”
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Aug 7, 2017 19:01:00 GMT -8
Her reaction to the kissing and touching, whether it was now or any other time, would more than likely give someone the impression that Circe barely tolerated the position she was in. Even as she tried to keep up, she seemed to lack any sort of genuine passion, and her end of the dance slightly stilted and mechanical, beyond simply being unskilled. At best, she could memorize steps and roughly move as needed, and at worst it really was stumbling as she said it would be.
Whatever her reason to go along with it, she didn't make a whole lot of fuss, allowing Layla to do as she pleased while they dance. Circe's brow arched just the slightest bit when she heard the question, and after a moment she offered a slight nod in return. "If you'd really like me to.."
As before, her answer was nearly a question itself, with only the tone she spoke in preventing it from being - but even then, her choice of words made it seem that way, as though she was unsure that is what the woman truly wanted.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 8, 2017 9:27:34 GMT -8
“I do… I want you to stay with me… an’ to kiss me…” Layla pressed herself against Circe, nuzzling and kissing her neck. With deft hands, she slowly undressed the elf. One by one, Layla removed each article of clothing, tossing it aside and forgetting about it entirely before it even hit the floor. Her soft lips trailed kisses over the newly exposed skin, exploring Circe’s body like it was the first time.
With the emotional intensity of the first time, at least. With the small hesitations and slightly timid body language of the first time, as well. But it was not at all their first time, and Layla was not about to let the lessons learned in the literal thousands of previous nights she had been with Circe fall to the wayside. The little priestess knew what Circe liked and how she liked it, and she put that information to good use now.
She took her time about it, savoring each moment. The dance slowed and shifted into a graceful sway and roll of the hips as she murmured against Circe’s skin. “I want you…”
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Aug 9, 2017 7:58:29 GMT -8
"I will then, if you want.." The elf continued to allow Layla to do as she pleased, with Circe only taking the lead to remove a few key things. The contrast in their apparent enthusiasm and passion would only seem to grow even beyond Circe's apparently tepid response. She turns her gaze down to watch Layla move about and kiss at her skin, her face as impassive as usual beyond a slightly furrowed brow. After some time, she reached forward to properly set her hands onto Layla, carefully holding onto the woman's hips.
Circe's demeanor cracked slightly as she hesitated in her own movements, as though unsure if she was allowed to set her hands where she had, showing quite a bit more concern for this than she had for Layla undressing her. Her movements gradually grew more self-assured and confident, if not a whole lot less awkward and clumsy. She let out a faint sigh when Layla began to slow the dance, her own hands gently kneading in against the woman's skin.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 9, 2017 13:18:13 GMT -8
Layla responded strongly to the touch. An excited little squeak slipped from her as Circe grabbed her hips. She pressed herself against Circe’s naked body, straddling the elf’s thigh and grinding against her. She nuzzled her cheek to Circe’s breasts and murmured softly again, the silver ring through her lower lip brushing lightly against her with each quiet word. “I like how you touch me…”
She slid her hands up, wrapping around the back of Circe’s neck to pull her down into a warm kiss. Left to her own devices, Circe almost never took much initiative in their relationship, even if she wasn’t exactly the reluctant partner she often appeared to be. Fortunately for their sex life, Layla was more than happy to take the lead. Sometimes, that took the form of undressing Circe on the dance floor. Sometimes, pulling her physically into a deep, passionate kiss.
And sometimes, it took the form of physically grabbing Circe’s wrists and putting the elf’s hands on her ass, then whispering against her lips, “tonight, I want you to fuck me until I scream.” Layla had always been a fan of the direct approach.
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Aug 9, 2017 19:13:23 GMT -8
"Uh-" Once again, whatever confidence she had managed to build up was quickly dashed by Layla's own words and actions, with Circe freezing up when her hands are pulled downward. After another long moment of hesitation, she gave the woman a firm squeeze as she returned the kiss - now managing to show just a hint of enthusiasm as she closed her eyes and slowly nodded her head.
Maybe she really did enjoy her situation. From the outside looking in, that would certainly not appear to be the case, but she clearly didn't mind Layla's touch, at the very least. She let out another low sigh, into the kiss this time, apparently content with holding the woman for the time being.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 11, 2017 13:36:12 GMT -8
Having made her point, Layla giggled into the kiss and handed the reins back to Circe. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, pressing back into Circe’s hands. Layla was a creature of passion, and prone to getting carried away in the moment, but this particular moment, she was enjoying letting Circe go where she wanted. Well… mostly.
Obviously, she had already been more than a little controlling about the course of the evening. Ultimately, it was her nature, but she tried, at least. And staying like this, swaying in Circe’s arms while they kissed, was hardly an onerous chore. In a way, it was an extension of the dance. A more intimate dance, of course, considering Circe’s state of undress and the position of her hands.
But in the end, Layla could only be who she was. As much as she enjoyed the warm kiss and the closeness, her hands soon enough began to drift.
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-Deleted-
Established
Roleplay posts: 38
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:14 GMT -8
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Post by -Deleted- on Aug 12, 2017 6:51:20 GMT -8
Apparently, all it really took to fluster Circe was something like that - or maybe she wasn't nearly as calm and confident as she let on. Either way, it seemed as though she didn't mind Layla having taken the lead, not nearly as much as the lewder words and actions. Circe gently kneaded her fingers into Layla's skin - her own skin much more rough and calloused by comparison.
Slowly, she seemed to grow more content with her situation. Even if she wasn't able to express any true passion, she was still capable of enjoying things. She gave Layla a faint squeeze, slowly swaying in place, though even that simple "dance" would seem clumsy when performed by her.
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