"That's assuming they want you to control them and you're strong enough to."
Oh, oh no. So few people play with her hair like he does, and even fewer still care to indulge her in this, knowing how much she enjoys it. The pleasantness of it nearly makes her toes curl. (Too little touch in one's life? Perhaps.) In a rare fit of who knows what, she leans further into him, relaxing, humming.
He continues speaking, and she's half listening, eyes closed, cheek pressed to his chest like a lazy cat. "Minions are definitely a responsibility," she sighs. "You all get into so much trouble out on the field. What's the sort you get into?" Good to know, so that she can nip that in the bud.
It's her turn to snort. Personal safety? Linda? "I don't think she'll find that a very appealing offer, pet."
"Nah, there's always a way." Merlin seems pretty sure about this, shrugging.
Oh, well, oh man, cute. Yeah, that's cute. Let him adjust a little, find a good angle to let her rest against his chest while he keeps brushing her hair down to her back, clever fingers trailing along her spine all the way down to the tips of her locks. Then again.
"I get into a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. Hard to describe really. Usually it has to do with my inquisitive nature though."
He sighs when she doubts this Linda person is going to be reasonable. "Unfortunately, I really need that piece of jewellery."
Careful, Merlin, shower her in all this attention and she'll want to keep you...
Clever fingers, yes. She's already grown attached to those fingers. And potentially to the man owning those fingers. Enough to readily accept him as one of hers, at least. The first time he grazes her back, she shifts, huffs, not quite laughing, but clearly failing to expect the skittery feeling of being tickled.
"Like exploring the ship?" And Liv or Salo who will probably want to castrate him.
That sigh has her leaning back, reaching up, dragging the pads of her fingers along the line of his jaw. "You've put me in a good mood, pet. I'll barter with her for it."
He leans his head on top of hers, burying his nose in blond hair for a moment. Just because she feels pretty nice against him, let's be fair. His fingers drag along her hair down and down to her back, again and again.
He could get used to this.
"Yes, like that," he murmurs with obvious amusement in his tone of voice.
Then she leans away and tells him the best news. "You will?" There's a brilliant smile to go with that. "Thank you." She'll get an affectionate kiss to her forehead as well.
Inviting the mother of all shit storms into your life, buddy...
Funnily enough, she could get used to this, too.
This close, cheek pressed to his chest, eyes shut, it's so very easy to hear the thump of his heart. A soothing sound. Quiet and steady, something she rarely ever has the opportunity to listen to, unless it's one of those rare moments with Liv or Namtar. Very rare, these days.
It's difficult to fully understand his enthusiasm behind a ring, save for the part about it and magic. Still, she lifts her shoulder in a shrug, shooing him away when he plants a kiss on her forehead. "Don't thank me yet, sweetling. I'll have to see if she wants anything, first. She's a fickle little beastie." Pot, meet kettle.
"Well," and now she's sighing, straightening her top before looping their arms together and leading him to her room. "I need a drink. You'll probably need a drink too, before I shoot you back to the dungeons."
"Ah, it's better than what I could have done on my own," he says and lets her have her space when she starts shooing him off. "I wouldn't know where to even begin these negotiations."
He would just steal back what is his. He might still have to do that depending on how long it will take to acquire the Spikard back by the usual ways.
Then she's pulling him forward and he's going with it with a smile.
"Oh well, here I was hoping we could avoid that imprisonment part. Somehow. I'm sure you could find some use for me right here." He was flirting so very shamelessly now. "But you are right, I'd love a drink."
"Finding her would be a start, pet." After that... "I'm sure she'd take a liking to you. You wouldn't have to work very hard."
Seeing as he's flirting with her so blatantly, she can't imagine Linda taking much issue one bit with his attentions. Or negotiations...
Velia's not looking at him as she steers them to her room. Once inside, his arm is abandoned as she ghosts over to a small cupboard-like compartment, housing a number of bottles which range in various colors. Her room is a scattered mess. Bed in the corner, sheets haphazardly tossed aside; a hammock in the opposite corner; various gear and outfits, ranging from her norm to more conservative; and books. So many books, in fact, they take up the corner by the hammock.
"You were, hmm?" It's tempting. He's attractive, fun, attentive. She could very much have fun with him, and yet, in this very moment, she has no interest whatsoever in entertaining these sorts of advances, or to explore where they'll lead. "Grab a drink and sit down, darling, you don't have to whore yourself out to me." She's got her own bottle filled with a dark blue liquid, and she's slipping back into the hammock, sitting in it as if it were a rocking chair. He's welcome to claim the space beside her, or take the bed.
He's going to stand instead. Because it looks like he might disturb the delicate ecosystem of this place by inserting himself in it. He'll grab that drink, though, thanks, and then wanders to the book pile, reading some of the titles.
"You'd think that people in a space ship no longer used paper," he says with a dry smile.
"I'm not whoring myself, this is called flirting and some people find it passable waste of time. I rather like it." He doesn't apologise to her, though. It's not who he is. That is a game they play in the courts, a game of apologies. Make someone apologise and you win. He's not exactly a good in apologies.
"Of course I was trying to avoid the imprisonment. How is that even surprising to you?" he laughs and picks up a few of the books. "No one wants to be locked up."
"Most don't," she responds with an answering smile. "Some of the best kept secrets are up here--" A tap to her head, "--and in those. Call the mages paranoid, but who would want their specialty available for just anyone with access to the network to read?" And now he gets a pointed look, her brows wiggling.
The books he picks up are all about magic, of course. The one in his hand outlining a more detailed account of necromancy. Scattered in the mess is a sketchpad as well, with designs of tattoos she's fiddled with.
"It's fun." Flirting, of course it's fun, and it is a wonderful time killer. "I don't expect mine to feel obligated to fuck me, is all I'm saying. Quite understandable if they want to, though," she says, taking a sip. Her feet are just low enough to the ground that she can toe the floor and rock the hammock. But just barely. "If you're aiming to avoid imprisonment with Salo, then you might want to make yourself comfortable. You can stay here. I don't mind."
Who'd have thought it. Letting someone stay with her in her room. And not for sex.
"Are you actually serious?" he asks, wiggling a book between his fingers. It feels so arbitrary. Why wouldn't you hold the information also online? There's no need to allow just anyone to read it. Books are always there, anyone could come and read them. Anyone could come and burn them or steal them. Paper is dangerous. Paper is stupid.
He flips through the necromancy book, taking a sip every now and then as he follows the lines of the magical logic. It's similar to what he's used to. Knowledge, it's all about knowledge.
"I didn't think you required sexual favours from... yours?" He gives her a glance then focuses on the book again. She obviously doesn't feel very humble about herself either. Merlin just grins at that fact.
"Well, I'm glad to stay if you don't mind the company."
She shrugs. "I'm not a house leader. I don't make the rules. They're old as dirt, some of them, and their beliefs are even older."
Books hold a certain appeal at times. Something solid for her in a ship full of intangible things. Ghosts. Voices. The network. She doesn't like the network, despite its usefulness; it's too distracting.
"I had one once who thought she had to." Rock, rock, rock. Her boot slips on the floor, sending the hammock jerking. "Imagine being followed by a dog who constantly tries to hump your leg. Actually, I wonder if that's how Liv must feel with Horace?" She shouldn't snicker, but she does.
Velia falls silent eventually, watching him, her look a considering one.
He glances at her and wonders if the rest of the houses are like this, too. What is the point of it? He doesn't get it.
"That sounds like a pain in the ass," he mutters over the book, completely fine by splitting his concentration between her and the text. "What's a Horace?" That makes him arch his brows and give her a curious look. That Liv chick looked like she wouldn't let anything follow her around and get in her way, to be honest.
The question finally makes him close the book and empty his glass with a smile. "No, not right now. But I'm a shapeshifter, luv, I could have. Or six fingers. Three heads. Natural chitin armour. Wings. A giant... You get the point."
"Horace is a he. He's a ghost." Now she's watching him again, half empty bottle resting against her cleavage, the lip of it pressed to her lower lip. "My ghost."
She couldn't answer, even if he asked about the houses and the books. This is life for her, and understanding how most of the leadership works on here is beyond her. They all have their own motivations.
The shapeshifter bit has her sitting abruptly up in the hammock, bottle in hand so as not to spill all over herself. Her eyes are wide, expression wondering, as she hops to her feet and circles him, dragging her fingers along his back as she does.
"You're a blank canvas." There's something almost reverent in her tone as she stops in front of him, dragging the tips of her fingers down his chest. "Do you shift often?"
"Your ghost?" Merlin asks. It seems very specific somehow. Maybe she'll tell him more about this Horace. Honestly, spirits are something that are so specific in each world. It's a mystery to him still.
Then she jumps up and circles him. He laughs, high and amused, his voice rising up with delight. "Well... I can, it's just a matter of desire, really. In my home, the Courts of Chaos, you have to shift instinctively. Sometimes it's the only way to survive the life in the ever changing conditions."
He follows her with his gaze and then lets his forehead elongate to a point where it splits into two horns.
It's the wrong thing to say, because a symphony of voices explode the second she claims him. With an eye roll, she waves them off, fighting to ignore the squawking of five voices--I'm not yours! Why didn't you mention me? Fuck Horace! Fuck you! Velia, I'm the best one! She doesn't like us!--and focus on Merlin.
"Not mine." A pointed look off to the side, straight at Horace. "I call the group of them ghostly familiars. Similar to how some witches will claim an animal? That is a thing still, isn't it?" Some planets she knows still follows that system. "The thing about Arcana's form of necromancy is that if you don't have a spirit, you can't reanimate a corpse. It's easy enough to throw a ghost into a body when you're casting, but will the ghost help you once it's resurrected? Too many factors left to chance if you don't barter, and sometimes, you don't have the luxury of bartering."
She's grinning by the time he gives himself two horns. If she were taller, she might've reached up to poke at them. "It's not an illusion, right? Could you ram someone with those?"
"Aah," Merlin listens with curiosity as she explains her craft. It seems a bit arbitrary to him but that's always the case when you trust in another entity to do your bidding. He's worked enough with demons to know how that goes.
"I usually just trust in my own ability to make things happen," he says with a mild shrug. "I don't like controlling others." Good thing he landed such an outstanding profession as the king, then, eh?
"Oh, honey," Merlin says with a mild laughter and turns one of his fingers into a dagger. "It's real alright." It's how his kind fights often enough. They've forgotten these skills in Amber for some reason. It seems strange to him but who is he to judge.
Just to prove the dagger is real and completely capable, he tears a hole in his overalls with it.
That makes her laugh. That makes the ghosts laugh, as well, the six of them sharing a joke Merlin isn't in on, and she has no intention of expanding on. There's some things you don't share with a stranger... such as the fact that she couldn't command the others to do what she wanted, even if she tried. That they agree to listen to her is their own choosing. And an obscene amount of bribery. Horace humping Liv's leg is just one of the sacrifices she's had to make. "You're adorable, pet."
He shifts so easily and she's left considering the hole in his onesie. Most people can't do the things he does. "It took Emberine a long time to manipulate her form." Yet here he is, doing it without blinking. "Do you..." She glances pointedly down at his crotch, brows lifting.
"Well, thank you," Merlin says easily. He has a feeling he didn't quite get the joke but whatever. It's not like he has to get every one of them.
He shrugs and returns his body parts back to normal. Her question is pretty direct and for a moment he's left chuckling. Not because of the question but the fact that she doesn't even blush asking it. He rather likes her.
So much for trying to keep things mature. But how, exactly, is she expected to pass up on questions about dick sizes when he's flaunting some shapeshifting ability? Like, was he born with a tiny little thing? Does he change its size based on who he's going to fuck and their preferences?
How big does she want it... She's charmed in a way only Velia can be, talking about dicks. "I'd rather you know how to use it, darling."
Which is so very true. The absolute worst was fucking someone who didn't know how to use their sexy bits. Virgins were cute, but her patience for them was short-fused and she tended to lose interest. Which means... hurt feelings. Wah wah'ing. So ridiculous.
"They'll line up here for you. I might almost be jealous at the thought. I like you enough that I don't want to share."
"That, unfortunately, you'll have to find out in action," Merlin said, mockingly apologetically.
The mere idea of people lining up to have sex with him was a little absurd, though. He had a healthy appetite, for sure, but that was a little too much.
"I see," he said carefully and gave her a curious look. "Is it common here to have that sort of reaction?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
purpleandgray) wrote2017-01-16 06:04 pm
no subject
Oh, oh no. So few people play with her hair like he does, and even fewer still care to indulge her in this, knowing how much she enjoys it. The pleasantness of it nearly makes her toes curl. (Too little touch in one's life? Perhaps.) In a rare fit of who knows what, she leans further into him, relaxing, humming.
He continues speaking, and she's half listening, eyes closed, cheek pressed to his chest like a lazy cat. "Minions are definitely a responsibility," she sighs. "You all get into so much trouble out on the field. What's the sort you get into?" Good to know, so that she can nip that in the bud.
It's her turn to snort. Personal safety? Linda? "I don't think she'll find that a very appealing offer, pet."
no subject
Oh, well, oh man, cute. Yeah, that's cute. Let him adjust a little, find a good angle to let her rest against his chest while he keeps brushing her hair down to her back, clever fingers trailing along her spine all the way down to the tips of her locks. Then again.
"I get into a lot of trouble, I'm afraid. Hard to describe really. Usually it has to do with my inquisitive nature though."
He sighs when she doubts this Linda person is going to be reasonable. "Unfortunately, I really need that piece of jewellery."
no subject
Careful, Merlin, shower her in all this attention and she'll want to keep you...Clever fingers, yes. She's already grown attached to those fingers. And potentially to the man owning those fingers. Enough to readily accept him as one of hers, at least. The first time he grazes her back, she shifts, huffs, not quite laughing, but clearly failing to expect the skittery feeling of being tickled.
"Like exploring the ship?" And Liv or Salo who will probably want to castrate him.
That sigh has her leaning back, reaching up, dragging the pads of her fingers along the line of his jaw. "You've put me in a good mood, pet. I'll barter with her for it."
no subject
Maybe he's counting on that....He leans his head on top of hers, burying his nose in blond hair for a moment. Just because she feels pretty nice against him, let's be fair. His fingers drag along her hair down and down to her back, again and again.
He could get used to this.
"Yes, like that," he murmurs with obvious amusement in his tone of voice.
Then she leans away and tells him the best news. "You will?" There's a brilliant smile to go with that. "Thank you." She'll get an affectionate kiss to her forehead as well.
no subject
Inviting the mother of all shit storms into your life, buddy...Funnily enough, she could get used to this, too.
This close, cheek pressed to his chest, eyes shut, it's so very easy to hear the thump of his heart. A soothing sound. Quiet and steady, something she rarely ever has the opportunity to listen to, unless it's one of those rare moments with Liv or Namtar. Very rare, these days.
It's difficult to fully understand his enthusiasm behind a ring, save for the part about it and magic. Still, she lifts her shoulder in a shrug, shooing him away when he plants a kiss on her forehead. "Don't thank me yet, sweetling. I'll have to see if she wants anything, first. She's a fickle little beastie." Pot, meet kettle.
"Well," and now she's sighing, straightening her top before looping their arms together and leading him to her room. "I need a drink. You'll probably need a drink too, before I shoot you back to the dungeons."
no subject
He would just steal back what is his. He might still have to do that depending on how long it will take to acquire the Spikard back by the usual ways.
Then she's pulling him forward and he's going with it with a smile.
"Oh well, here I was hoping we could avoid that imprisonment part. Somehow. I'm sure you could find some use for me right here." He was flirting so very shamelessly now. "But you are right, I'd love a drink."
no subject
Seeing as he's flirting with her so blatantly, she can't imagine Linda taking much issue one bit with his attentions. Or negotiations...
Velia's not looking at him as she steers them to her room. Once inside, his arm is abandoned as she ghosts over to a small cupboard-like compartment, housing a number of bottles which range in various colors. Her room is a scattered mess. Bed in the corner, sheets haphazardly tossed aside; a hammock in the opposite corner; various gear and outfits, ranging from her norm to more conservative; and books. So many books, in fact, they take up the corner by the hammock.
"You were, hmm?" It's tempting. He's attractive, fun, attentive. She could very much have fun with him, and yet, in this very moment, she has no interest whatsoever in entertaining these sorts of advances, or to explore where they'll lead. "Grab a drink and sit down, darling, you don't have to whore yourself out to me." She's got her own bottle filled with a dark blue liquid, and she's slipping back into the hammock, sitting in it as if it were a rocking chair. He's welcome to claim the space beside her, or take the bed.
no subject
"You'd think that people in a space ship no longer used paper," he says with a dry smile.
"I'm not whoring myself, this is called flirting and some people find it passable waste of time. I rather like it." He doesn't apologise to her, though. It's not who he is. That is a game they play in the courts, a game of apologies. Make someone apologise and you win. He's not exactly a good in apologies.
"Of course I was trying to avoid the imprisonment. How is that even surprising to you?" he laughs and picks up a few of the books. "No one wants to be locked up."
no subject
The books he picks up are all about magic, of course. The one in his hand outlining a more detailed account of necromancy. Scattered in the mess is a sketchpad as well, with designs of tattoos she's fiddled with.
"It's fun." Flirting, of course it's fun, and it is a wonderful time killer. "I don't expect mine to feel obligated to fuck me, is all I'm saying. Quite understandable if they want to, though," she says, taking a sip. Her feet are just low enough to the ground that she can toe the floor and rock the hammock. But just barely. "If you're aiming to avoid imprisonment with Salo, then you might want to make yourself comfortable. You can stay here. I don't mind."
Who'd have thought it. Letting someone stay with her in her room. And not for sex.
Someone must be lonely.
no subject
He flips through the necromancy book, taking a sip every now and then as he follows the lines of the magical logic. It's similar to what he's used to. Knowledge, it's all about knowledge.
"I didn't think you required sexual favours from... yours?" He gives her a glance then focuses on the book again. She obviously doesn't feel very humble about herself either. Merlin just grins at that fact.
"Well, I'm glad to stay if you don't mind the company."
no subject
Books hold a certain appeal at times. Something solid for her in a ship full of intangible things. Ghosts. Voices. The network. She doesn't like the network, despite its usefulness; it's too distracting.
"I had one once who thought she had to." Rock, rock, rock. Her boot slips on the floor, sending the hammock jerking. "Imagine being followed by a dog who constantly tries to hump your leg. Actually, I wonder if that's how Liv must feel with Horace?" She shouldn't snicker, but she does.
Velia falls silent eventually, watching him, her look a considering one.
"Do you have any tattoos?"
no subject
"That sounds like a pain in the ass," he mutters over the book, completely fine by splitting his concentration between her and the text. "What's a Horace?" That makes him arch his brows and give her a curious look. That Liv chick looked like she wouldn't let anything follow her around and get in her way, to be honest.
The question finally makes him close the book and empty his glass with a smile. "No, not right now. But I'm a shapeshifter, luv, I could have. Or six fingers. Three heads. Natural chitin armour. Wings. A giant... You get the point."
no subject
She couldn't answer, even if he asked about the houses and the books. This is life for her, and understanding how most of the leadership works on here is beyond her. They all have their own motivations.
The shapeshifter bit has her sitting abruptly up in the hammock, bottle in hand so as not to spill all over herself. Her eyes are wide, expression wondering, as she hops to her feet and circles him, dragging her fingers along his back as she does.
"You're a blank canvas." There's something almost reverent in her tone as she stops in front of him, dragging the tips of her fingers down his chest. "Do you shift often?"
no subject
Then she jumps up and circles him. He laughs, high and amused, his voice rising up with delight. "Well... I can, it's just a matter of desire, really. In my home, the Courts of Chaos, you have to shift instinctively. Sometimes it's the only way to survive the life in the ever changing conditions."
He follows her with his gaze and then lets his forehead elongate to a point where it splits into two horns.
no subject
"Not mine." A pointed look off to the side, straight at Horace. "I call the group of them ghostly familiars. Similar to how some witches will claim an animal? That is a thing still, isn't it?" Some planets she knows still follows that system. "The thing about Arcana's form of necromancy is that if you don't have a spirit, you can't reanimate a corpse. It's easy enough to throw a ghost into a body when you're casting, but will the ghost help you once it's resurrected? Too many factors left to chance if you don't barter, and sometimes, you don't have the luxury of bartering."
She's grinning by the time he gives himself two horns. If she were taller, she might've reached up to poke at them. "It's not an illusion, right? Could you ram someone with those?"
no subject
"I usually just trust in my own ability to make things happen," he says with a mild shrug. "I don't like controlling others." Good thing he landed such an outstanding profession as the king, then, eh?
"Oh, honey," Merlin says with a mild laughter and turns one of his fingers into a dagger. "It's real alright." It's how his kind fights often enough. They've forgotten these skills in Amber for some reason. It seems strange to him but who is he to judge.
Just to prove the dagger is real and completely capable, he tears a hole in his overalls with it.
no subject
He shifts so easily and she's left considering the hole in his onesie. Most people can't do the things he does. "It took Emberine a long time to manipulate her form." Yet here he is, doing it without blinking. "Do you..." She glances pointedly down at his crotch, brows lifting.
no subject
He shrugs and returns his body parts back to normal. Her question is pretty direct and for a moment he's left chuckling. Not because of the question but the fact that she doesn't even blush asking it. He rather likes her.
"Yeah," he winks at her. "Of course"
no subject
So much for trying to keep things mature. But how, exactly, is she expected to pass up on questions about dick sizes when he's flaunting some shapeshifting ability? Like, was he born with a tiny little thing? Does he change its size based on who he's going to fuck and their preferences?
"Do people think you're like some sexual god?"
no subject
The second question made him snort out a laughter, however.
"I do hope not, it's definitely not the kind of fame I've tried to reach for."
Not that he had tried to reach for any kind of fame. It just happened to him, unfortunately.
no subject
Which is so very true. The absolute worst was fucking someone who didn't know how to use their sexy bits. Virgins were cute, but her patience for them was short-fused and she tended to lose interest. Which means... hurt feelings. Wah wah'ing. So ridiculous.
"They'll line up here for you. I might almost be jealous at the thought. I like you enough that I don't want to share."
no subject
The mere idea of people lining up to have sex with him was a little absurd, though. He had a healthy appetite, for sure, but that was a little too much.
"I see," he said carefully and gave her a curious look. "Is it common here to have that sort of reaction?"