Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2004-08-16 04:34 pm
the_lioness) wrote2004-08-16 04:34 pm
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He was watching her from across the dimly lit tavern. At first she intentionally avoided looking at him, but she soon felt his gaze boring into the back of her head. Scowling, Alanna grabbed a cup out of Lightfingers' hand and winked at the thief by way of apology. Careful to toss back the wine in a manly fashion lest her credibility suffer, she nonchalantly turned and located the King of Thieves over the cup's rim. George's lanky body was folded into his favorite hearth chair, one arm resting on a bent knee as he unconsciously drummed his fingers along his thigh. Although ostensibly listening to the thief whispering in his right ear, George was entirely focused on the red haired squire across the room. Alanna slowly lowered her cup, flashing George a quick smile. Despite any prior misgivings, she knew visiting the Dancing Dove tonight had been a good idea.
George continued to study her out of the corner of his eye. He nodded to his associate and clapped him on the back, indicating that their business was through for the evening. Taking a moment to scan the tavern, he ascertained that business was brisk, but under control. Earlier that day, he'd personally tossed a rowdy drunk out in the street. The clientele had been remarkably well-behaved ever since. For a thief, George was curiously fond of law and order. As long as it was the Rogue's laws being obeyed, that is. George smiled with the satisfaction of a job well done and motioned for Alanna to join him upstairs.
Alanna narrowed her eyes in response. She wasn't at all sure she liked being summoned by George. She was, after all, a noble. Granted, she was a noble who spent the vast majority of her time being ordered about, but she enjoyed relative autonomy in the city. George took one look at her mutinous expression, chortled and performed an elaborate court bow in her direction. The assembled thieves cheered loudly at the sight, thumped their tankards on tables and bowed mockingly to each other. Alanna ground her teeth together and indicated for George to lead the way.
She felt herself flush as she trailed George up the stairs. The way he moved fascinated her. His every motion was infused with the natural grace of someone constantly on their guard. Every day, she worked side by side with handsome, strong men. Men that the court ladies competed viciously for but who were like brothers to her. With the exception of Jonathan, the thought of a romantic relationship with any of her friends made her vaguely ill. No, it was George's long and wiry frame that occupied her thoughts and made all the blood rush out of her head lately.
Suddenly bashful, she watched his back until they reached his chambers. He grinned at her over his shoulder and held the door. He was the only man who did that for her. For some reason, that realization made her eyes water. Shoving the door closed with his foot, George circled her like a cat stalking its pray. He ran a large hand over her coppery hair and cupped her chin in his palm. Alanna kept her face tilted down, her eyes darting left and right as she tried to make sense of the emotions roiling through her. George tapped her cheek twice with his index finger to distract her before pushing up on her chin. Startled, she peered at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to knock me off balance again, George?" Much to her dismay, her voice quavered slightly. George chuckled and replied, "If I am lass, is it working?" Alanna glared at him, silently wishing she knew where he kept his ear collection. Something told her she would gain great satisfaction from dumping it over his head.
"Now, there's my lass," George laughed. "I can tell when your temper ignites. Your face begins to match your hair." Before she could retort, George abruptly wrapped his long arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. He dangled her easily off the floor and Alanna found herself eye level with him for the first time. Her hands automatically balled into fists. She noticed that the teasing light in his hazel eyes had been replaced by something intense and unfamiliar. Against all reason, Alanna found herself thinking that his large nose lent his face a certain character. In fact, George had a reckless aura about him, a touch of madness that greatly intrigued her. George was a beloved source of spontaneity in her highly regimented life.
George's free hand covered the back of her neck as his fingers played with the wispy ends of her short hair. Still, he did nothing but look at her. Deeply disturbed, Alanna tried to wiggle out of his grasp but like a determined fisherman, George held on tight to his catch. Eventually, Alanna relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy being held close to his warm, hard body. A small sigh escaped her lips. As soon as George felt her struggles cease, he leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. Alanna immediately stiffened, a thousand protests clogging her throat as she registered the feel of his firm lips against her own. She shuddered when he nudged her top lip and sucked it lightly, the resulting weakness in her limbs causing her eyes to drift shut. Her surprised moan strongly affected George, who was not nearly as calm and collected as he appeared. He crushed her mouth with his and growled low in his throat. Alanna surged against him, all but climbing his lean body in her desperation to get closer to him. She wrapped one strong arm around his torso and draped the other around his neck, her hand roaming over his shaggy hair and long face. As the kiss intensified, she held it against his cheek in order to feel his jaw move as he plunged his tongue into her mouth.
The sensations coursing through her body reminded her of a particularly strenuous bout with magic. Inexplicably, she felt languorous and exhilarated at the same time. She was suffused with weakness, yet pumped full of energy.
George pushed away from her, his cheeks red and his breath labored. Alanna stubbornly kept her eyes closed. He looked at her with an expression that would have scared her to death had she seen it. She felt his legs moving as he backed her up against a wall, but was too distracted by the spot where his neck met his shoulder to react one way or another. Inhaling, she smelled stable, smoke, drink and man. She giggled, thinking to herself that Jonathan always smelled of freshly laundered linens. After all, it simply wouldn't do for the heir to the throne to smell like a common stable hand. Alanna raised her head and eyed George mischievously. "Jonathan smells like a boy," she whispered. George looked militant for a moment than grinned good-naturedly, the teasing spark back in his wide set eyes. "Well, I suppose I smell like a dirty thief then," he quipped. "No," she whispered, her eyes turning a deeper purple. She cleared her throat. "No, you smell like you. Dangerous. And slightly smoky."
George drew in a breath and tangled both sets of fingers in her fiery hair. He touched his forehead to hers. "Lass, you know what I'm thinkin' about us. I intend to wait. But I won't be someone you turn to whenever you fight with Jonathan. Someday, you'll come to me of your own accord. Until then, it's one kiss a visit only you'll be getting from me." He smiled and backed away from her. Hurt and unsure of how to act after what had just transpired, Alanna stormed towards the door. Her hand on the handle, she grasped her ember stone for strength and whirled back around intending to verbally slice into him. To her horror, George was covered with a sickly orange glow. She felt her knees shake and dimly heard someone screaming in the distance. She instinctively reached for George, her fingers grasping for his sleeve, only to watch him dissolve before her. His suddenly shadowed eyes never left her face.
*************
Alanna choked on her scream as she awoke. Her hands were twisted in the bed linens and her legs felt unusually heavy. Untangling herself, she leapt out of bed only to crash to the floor. Her stiff muscles refused to cooperate, so she lay on the floor while tears pooled in her eyes. George, she thought, I must save George. Furious with herself and her wayward emotions, she wiped her eyes, muttering about dreams and consequences. Besides, she reasoned, that particular kiss happened years ago. Sighing deeply, she focused on the here and now, finally taking stock of her surroundings. Moments later, she remembered where she was. Milliways. The bar at the end of the universe.
Snorting slightly, she pulled herself upright and looked around the nondescript room she'd been assigned by the bar downstairs. It was sparsely decorated and held only a small bed, an ancient wood table and a large fireplace. Grim, Alanna thought. It needs some color. To her surprise, a bright tapestry depicting her lioness shield unfurled on one wall. With a wry grin, she shook her head in astonishment and then nodded with approval. She reached inside to test her gift and discovered that her magic was fully restored. The events surrounding her mysterious appearance at Milliways came back to her in a rush, and she gasped as she visualized Thom's face. Her brother was here.
Alanna sighed, recalling how she'd tossed the vervain into the fire and depleted her gift trying to see George and Jonathan. Her efforts had failed and all she had sensed was a cool, non-threatening darkness. Eventually she tried contacting the Goddess. The resulting screech in her head had knocked her backwards across the room. Giving in to exhaustion, she had crawled into the surprisingly soft bed and slept. Judging by her fully restored magic and strength, she guessed that she had slept for several days.
Determinedly, she shoved her lingering doubts about George and his safety aside. She pulled her tunic over her head and stretched the kinks out of her sore muscles. What she really wanted was to go outside for her morning Shang exercises, but the dark gods only knew where she might end up if she did. Perhaps she should get a feel for this place first. She smiled, admitting to herself that Thom was a large part of the reason she wasn't willing to leave yet. They still had much to discuss. She strapped on her scabbard and left the room, determined to find this "Serious" person Bernard had mentioned and ask about a security position. As she pulled the door shut, the fire briefly flickered with a preternatural orange blaze.
George continued to study her out of the corner of his eye. He nodded to his associate and clapped him on the back, indicating that their business was through for the evening. Taking a moment to scan the tavern, he ascertained that business was brisk, but under control. Earlier that day, he'd personally tossed a rowdy drunk out in the street. The clientele had been remarkably well-behaved ever since. For a thief, George was curiously fond of law and order. As long as it was the Rogue's laws being obeyed, that is. George smiled with the satisfaction of a job well done and motioned for Alanna to join him upstairs.
Alanna narrowed her eyes in response. She wasn't at all sure she liked being summoned by George. She was, after all, a noble. Granted, she was a noble who spent the vast majority of her time being ordered about, but she enjoyed relative autonomy in the city. George took one look at her mutinous expression, chortled and performed an elaborate court bow in her direction. The assembled thieves cheered loudly at the sight, thumped their tankards on tables and bowed mockingly to each other. Alanna ground her teeth together and indicated for George to lead the way.
She felt herself flush as she trailed George up the stairs. The way he moved fascinated her. His every motion was infused with the natural grace of someone constantly on their guard. Every day, she worked side by side with handsome, strong men. Men that the court ladies competed viciously for but who were like brothers to her. With the exception of Jonathan, the thought of a romantic relationship with any of her friends made her vaguely ill. No, it was George's long and wiry frame that occupied her thoughts and made all the blood rush out of her head lately.
Suddenly bashful, she watched his back until they reached his chambers. He grinned at her over his shoulder and held the door. He was the only man who did that for her. For some reason, that realization made her eyes water. Shoving the door closed with his foot, George circled her like a cat stalking its pray. He ran a large hand over her coppery hair and cupped her chin in his palm. Alanna kept her face tilted down, her eyes darting left and right as she tried to make sense of the emotions roiling through her. George tapped her cheek twice with his index finger to distract her before pushing up on her chin. Startled, she peered at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to knock me off balance again, George?" Much to her dismay, her voice quavered slightly. George chuckled and replied, "If I am lass, is it working?" Alanna glared at him, silently wishing she knew where he kept his ear collection. Something told her she would gain great satisfaction from dumping it over his head.
"Now, there's my lass," George laughed. "I can tell when your temper ignites. Your face begins to match your hair." Before she could retort, George abruptly wrapped his long arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. He dangled her easily off the floor and Alanna found herself eye level with him for the first time. Her hands automatically balled into fists. She noticed that the teasing light in his hazel eyes had been replaced by something intense and unfamiliar. Against all reason, Alanna found herself thinking that his large nose lent his face a certain character. In fact, George had a reckless aura about him, a touch of madness that greatly intrigued her. George was a beloved source of spontaneity in her highly regimented life.
George's free hand covered the back of her neck as his fingers played with the wispy ends of her short hair. Still, he did nothing but look at her. Deeply disturbed, Alanna tried to wiggle out of his grasp but like a determined fisherman, George held on tight to his catch. Eventually, Alanna relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy being held close to his warm, hard body. A small sigh escaped her lips. As soon as George felt her struggles cease, he leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. Alanna immediately stiffened, a thousand protests clogging her throat as she registered the feel of his firm lips against her own. She shuddered when he nudged her top lip and sucked it lightly, the resulting weakness in her limbs causing her eyes to drift shut. Her surprised moan strongly affected George, who was not nearly as calm and collected as he appeared. He crushed her mouth with his and growled low in his throat. Alanna surged against him, all but climbing his lean body in her desperation to get closer to him. She wrapped one strong arm around his torso and draped the other around his neck, her hand roaming over his shaggy hair and long face. As the kiss intensified, she held it against his cheek in order to feel his jaw move as he plunged his tongue into her mouth.
The sensations coursing through her body reminded her of a particularly strenuous bout with magic. Inexplicably, she felt languorous and exhilarated at the same time. She was suffused with weakness, yet pumped full of energy.
George pushed away from her, his cheeks red and his breath labored. Alanna stubbornly kept her eyes closed. He looked at her with an expression that would have scared her to death had she seen it. She felt his legs moving as he backed her up against a wall, but was too distracted by the spot where his neck met his shoulder to react one way or another. Inhaling, she smelled stable, smoke, drink and man. She giggled, thinking to herself that Jonathan always smelled of freshly laundered linens. After all, it simply wouldn't do for the heir to the throne to smell like a common stable hand. Alanna raised her head and eyed George mischievously. "Jonathan smells like a boy," she whispered. George looked militant for a moment than grinned good-naturedly, the teasing spark back in his wide set eyes. "Well, I suppose I smell like a dirty thief then," he quipped. "No," she whispered, her eyes turning a deeper purple. She cleared her throat. "No, you smell like you. Dangerous. And slightly smoky."
George drew in a breath and tangled both sets of fingers in her fiery hair. He touched his forehead to hers. "Lass, you know what I'm thinkin' about us. I intend to wait. But I won't be someone you turn to whenever you fight with Jonathan. Someday, you'll come to me of your own accord. Until then, it's one kiss a visit only you'll be getting from me." He smiled and backed away from her. Hurt and unsure of how to act after what had just transpired, Alanna stormed towards the door. Her hand on the handle, she grasped her ember stone for strength and whirled back around intending to verbally slice into him. To her horror, George was covered with a sickly orange glow. She felt her knees shake and dimly heard someone screaming in the distance. She instinctively reached for George, her fingers grasping for his sleeve, only to watch him dissolve before her. His suddenly shadowed eyes never left her face.
*************
Alanna choked on her scream as she awoke. Her hands were twisted in the bed linens and her legs felt unusually heavy. Untangling herself, she leapt out of bed only to crash to the floor. Her stiff muscles refused to cooperate, so she lay on the floor while tears pooled in her eyes. George, she thought, I must save George. Furious with herself and her wayward emotions, she wiped her eyes, muttering about dreams and consequences. Besides, she reasoned, that particular kiss happened years ago. Sighing deeply, she focused on the here and now, finally taking stock of her surroundings. Moments later, she remembered where she was. Milliways. The bar at the end of the universe.
Snorting slightly, she pulled herself upright and looked around the nondescript room she'd been assigned by the bar downstairs. It was sparsely decorated and held only a small bed, an ancient wood table and a large fireplace. Grim, Alanna thought. It needs some color. To her surprise, a bright tapestry depicting her lioness shield unfurled on one wall. With a wry grin, she shook her head in astonishment and then nodded with approval. She reached inside to test her gift and discovered that her magic was fully restored. The events surrounding her mysterious appearance at Milliways came back to her in a rush, and she gasped as she visualized Thom's face. Her brother was here.
Alanna sighed, recalling how she'd tossed the vervain into the fire and depleted her gift trying to see George and Jonathan. Her efforts had failed and all she had sensed was a cool, non-threatening darkness. Eventually she tried contacting the Goddess. The resulting screech in her head had knocked her backwards across the room. Giving in to exhaustion, she had crawled into the surprisingly soft bed and slept. Judging by her fully restored magic and strength, she guessed that she had slept for several days.
Determinedly, she shoved her lingering doubts about George and his safety aside. She pulled her tunic over her head and stretched the kinks out of her sore muscles. What she really wanted was to go outside for her morning Shang exercises, but the dark gods only knew where she might end up if she did. Perhaps she should get a feel for this place first. She smiled, admitting to herself that Thom was a large part of the reason she wasn't willing to leave yet. They still had much to discuss. She strapped on her scabbard and left the room, determined to find this "Serious" person Bernard had mentioned and ask about a security position. As she pulled the door shut, the fire briefly flickered with a preternatural orange blaze.