Immaculate
Stars, why couldn't she stop smiling? It was late. She had early class tomorrow. But she wasn’t the least bit tired.
Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Private Neon Streets
- Thread starter Sophelia Ardemark
- Start date
Stars, why couldn't she stop smiling? It was late. She had early class tomorrow. But she wasn’t the least bit tired.
Vibe Terrorist
Immaculate
An exasperated huff. Roll of blue eyes. Teeth biting down lightly into her lower lip.
Vibe Terrorist
Sophelia ArdemarkImmaculate
She gasped.
Her roommate turned over.
Hand clamped firmly over her mouth and she felt her cheeks burning.
Isar would see the three dots typing for a very long time.
Pausing
And then going again.
Her roommate turned over.
Hand clamped firmly over her mouth and she felt her cheeks burning.
Isar would see the three dots typing for a very long time.
Pausing
And then going again.
Vibe Terrorist
Isar shook his head, then his thoughts began to drift to the taste of alcohol off skin.
It had all just been an act. For show.
Hadn’t it?
Sophelia ArdemarkImmaculate
There was a small flash as she took a quick picture beneath the sheets. Clearly wearing his sweater. Tongue was out and her free hand gave him a very rude Tapani gesture. Followed up by a message.
Vibe Terrorist
Isar sent back a picture of him returning the gesture and nothing else, then passed out.
The next few days sent him spiraling down a path. Every time he got close to someone he just ended up messing it up, getting them hurt or killed. And he had a trail of bodies and broken hearts to prove it.
Still, the Zeltron could not help himself and respond to her messages when he got them, usually within a few minutes. Until one day stood in front of that full length mirror in his place, high on glitterstim and buzzed off Whyren's Reserve, and stared at the person staring back at him. Bloodshot violet eyes. Unkempt purple-red hair. An addict. A conman. A cheat. A killer.
A killer.
Did he just imagine it, or did he see faces in the darkness behind him, just over his shoulder in the mirror? Faces of the people he killed.
"Just fffffuckin do it already then," he hissed, eyes balling shut then flaring open again.
His datapad buzzed against his thigh.
He ignored it and wandered out to his balcony. For the eleventh time that evening he thought about jumping. He didn't.
But he ignored all of the messages. And day by day found himself drinking more, smoking more, staying out until the morning and then sleeping through the day. Killing off Grimwall's cronies when he found them.
Trying not to think about her.
Trying just to forget she existed.
Because wouldn't that be so much simpler?
He was bad for her. Like he told her. Just bad news.
Sophelia Ardemark
The next few days sent him spiraling down a path. Every time he got close to someone he just ended up messing it up, getting them hurt or killed. And he had a trail of bodies and broken hearts to prove it.
Still, the Zeltron could not help himself and respond to her messages when he got them, usually within a few minutes. Until one day stood in front of that full length mirror in his place, high on glitterstim and buzzed off Whyren's Reserve, and stared at the person staring back at him. Bloodshot violet eyes. Unkempt purple-red hair. An addict. A conman. A cheat. A killer.
A killer.
Did he just imagine it, or did he see faces in the darkness behind him, just over his shoulder in the mirror? Faces of the people he killed.
"Just fffffuckin do it already then," he hissed, eyes balling shut then flaring open again.
His datapad buzzed against his thigh.
He ignored it and wandered out to his balcony. For the eleventh time that evening he thought about jumping. He didn't.
But he ignored all of the messages. And day by day found himself drinking more, smoking more, staying out until the morning and then sleeping through the day. Killing off Grimwall's cronies when he found them.
Trying not to think about her.
Trying just to forget she existed.
Because wouldn't that be so much simpler?
He was bad for her. Like he told her. Just bad news.
Sophelia ArdemarkImmaculate
In the middle of Master Planchard’s lightsaber technique class, she checked her comm for the umpteenth time. It had been a few days since she’d heard from Isar. And it worried her. It wasn’t like him.
Fingers hesitated over the keys. Then she began typing out a message. Only to delete it.
She waited another day and a half.
Then she sent: just checking in. You doing alright?
A few more days passed and nothing. Not even a thumbs up! She frowned and checked the messages again, wondering if she’d said something to upset him. Was she the problem? And why did she care so much?
She’d probably just read everything wrong. Things like this rarely happened to her. She’d never been…ghosted before. And she felt foolish. It’s not like they were even dating. Maybe she should leave it alone. She almost asked Jen but then thought better of it.
And she might’ve left things well and good alone except for this nagging feeling something was wrong. There was still that ghost of a connection between them. Even across the distance and stars. Taking out her comm. She sent another message. Messages on top of messages.
‘Just text back even with like or something? You’re worrying me. And if it’s me, I won’t bother you anymore. Just tell me. Okay?’
Days turned into another week. Then two. And that was enough. She didn’t know if Grimwall was still on Nar Shadda after she’d told the Council what happened. But they didn’t have jurisdiction there. Scary thoughts plagued her nights. Isar lying in a gutter. Asking leave for personal reasons, she took a transport to Nar Shadda. Multiple airsick bags later, she found herself standing outside Isar’s penthouse with a travel bag slung over one shoulder. And she knocked.
Fingers hesitated over the keys. Then she began typing out a message. Only to delete it.
She waited another day and a half.
Then she sent: just checking in. You doing alright?
A few more days passed and nothing. Not even a thumbs up! She frowned and checked the messages again, wondering if she’d said something to upset him. Was she the problem? And why did she care so much?
She’d probably just read everything wrong. Things like this rarely happened to her. She’d never been…ghosted before. And she felt foolish. It’s not like they were even dating. Maybe she should leave it alone. She almost asked Jen but then thought better of it.
And she might’ve left things well and good alone except for this nagging feeling something was wrong. There was still that ghost of a connection between them. Even across the distance and stars. Taking out her comm. She sent another message. Messages on top of messages.
‘Just text back even with like or something? You’re worrying me. And if it’s me, I won’t bother you anymore. Just tell me. Okay?’
Days turned into another week. Then two. And that was enough. She didn’t know if Grimwall was still on Nar Shadda after she’d told the Council what happened. But they didn’t have jurisdiction there. Scary thoughts plagued her nights. Isar lying in a gutter. Asking leave for personal reasons, she took a transport to Nar Shadda. Multiple airsick bags later, she found herself standing outside Isar’s penthouse with a travel bag slung over one shoulder. And she knocked.
Vibe Terrorist
No one answered. Lights off. Nobody home. Inside, Isar had an alarm system but nothing that would try to kill an intruder - he typically figured he could do that himself. On the dining room table, left out in plain view, was a spinning hologram with a map of the upper city of Nar Shaddaa and a list of names in a spiderweb which all led back to Dr. Grimwall.
Many of the names were crossed off.
The datapad was also connected to Isar's personal commlink and showed his location: Red Light District, Club Parallax.
Another district entirely.
***
He leaned over the balcony and looked at the club floor below. In his hand, drink number two. No wait, there had been that shot with the lethan. Alright then. Drink three. He smiled to himself, but it did not quite reach his eyes.
"Hello handsome," Isar turned at the purr in the voice, eyebrow raising at the approach of a Twi'lek, her skin a deep crimson. The lethan who'd given him the shot. An Iridonian woman was with her, horns poking through dark hair.
"Well, guess I should say thanks for the drink."
"You should."
"Thanks."
The Iridonian laughed while the Twi'lek smirked.
"You looking for something?"
"Well..." the two women shared a look, "We were looking to go on a little trip."
"Oh. Right," Isar's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. "That's 50 credits per."
Reaching inside the pocket of his flashy, silver jacket which he wore above a floral yet equally flashy deep purple and shimmering gold button down, Isar pulled out two small plastic bags of spice and shook them. Then he held out a hand for the credits.
"Ladies first."
Sophelia Ardemark
Many of the names were crossed off.
The datapad was also connected to Isar's personal commlink and showed his location: Red Light District, Club Parallax.
Another district entirely.
***
He leaned over the balcony and looked at the club floor below. In his hand, drink number two. No wait, there had been that shot with the lethan. Alright then. Drink three. He smiled to himself, but it did not quite reach his eyes.
"Hello handsome," Isar turned at the purr in the voice, eyebrow raising at the approach of a Twi'lek, her skin a deep crimson. The lethan who'd given him the shot. An Iridonian woman was with her, horns poking through dark hair.
"Well, guess I should say thanks for the drink."
"You should."
"Thanks."
The Iridonian laughed while the Twi'lek smirked.
"You looking for something?"
"Well..." the two women shared a look, "We were looking to go on a little trip."
"Oh. Right," Isar's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. "That's 50 credits per."
Reaching inside the pocket of his flashy, silver jacket which he wore above a floral yet equally flashy deep purple and shimmering gold button down, Isar pulled out two small plastic bags of spice and shook them. Then he held out a hand for the credits.
"Ladies first."
Sophelia Ardemark
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Immaculate
Sophelia Ardemark was not above breaking in. However, it occurred to her that was some stage five clinger behavior. And, she didn’t really know how to. She settled for pressing her face against the glass and peering inside.
And knocking a few more times. Loudly.
No response.
Eyes caught the open image on the table and she squinted. A frown tugged on her mouth, pulling away, she dipped behind some bushes and changed out of the sweats and into a more Nar Shadda appropriate outfit. It was a light blue shimmering long-sleeved blouse. The smallest bit of sheen if the light caught it right. She tied the base at her midriff. Then she tugged on the black leather shorts and strappy flats with lacing’s that wound up her calves.
Better.
Stashing her bag where she changed, she thought about the glowing dot on the map she’d seen. But relied more on that connection in her mind. Flagging down a cab, she went on her way. Following that thread as it grew closer and closer. When the cab stopped, she even felt like she could almost smell lavender. Head shook, and she got out, making her way into a club.
Should she just leave?
He must be fine if he was at a place like this.
She hesitated in the crowded doorway. Even as her eyes did a quick scan of those at the bar. Others moving closely on the dance floor as the music thrummed and pulsed in her ears. Then, like a magnet snapping in place, her eyes found him. Bright silver jacket. That shirt.
Eyes rolled.
Jaw clenched.
Was that a smile on his face?! And all those women surrounding him. Her frown deepened. Fists clenched at her sides.
She should just leave.
Clearly he was FINE.
She half turned. Paused again.
Absolutely not.
This man was going to be held accountable for being a bad friend. Slender legs marched across that dance floor. Those throngs of people. Like an ion torpedo seeking its target. Hands raised and she went to shove his upper back as she approached him from behind.
“WHAT….is your problem?!” A heave. A big glare as she ground out. A mixture of emotions wildly tangling themselves into an angry knot.
Isar du Vain
And knocking a few more times. Loudly.
No response.
Eyes caught the open image on the table and she squinted. A frown tugged on her mouth, pulling away, she dipped behind some bushes and changed out of the sweats and into a more Nar Shadda appropriate outfit. It was a light blue shimmering long-sleeved blouse. The smallest bit of sheen if the light caught it right. She tied the base at her midriff. Then she tugged on the black leather shorts and strappy flats with lacing’s that wound up her calves.
Better.
Stashing her bag where she changed, she thought about the glowing dot on the map she’d seen. But relied more on that connection in her mind. Flagging down a cab, she went on her way. Following that thread as it grew closer and closer. When the cab stopped, she even felt like she could almost smell lavender. Head shook, and she got out, making her way into a club.
Should she just leave?
He must be fine if he was at a place like this.
She hesitated in the crowded doorway. Even as her eyes did a quick scan of those at the bar. Others moving closely on the dance floor as the music thrummed and pulsed in her ears. Then, like a magnet snapping in place, her eyes found him. Bright silver jacket. That shirt.
Eyes rolled.
Jaw clenched.
Was that a smile on his face?! And all those women surrounding him. Her frown deepened. Fists clenched at her sides.
She should just leave.
Clearly he was FINE.
She half turned. Paused again.
Absolutely not.
This man was going to be held accountable for being a bad friend. Slender legs marched across that dance floor. Those throngs of people. Like an ion torpedo seeking its target. Hands raised and she went to shove his upper back as she approached him from behind.
“WHAT….is your problem?!” A heave. A big glare as she ground out. A mixture of emotions wildly tangling themselves into an angry knot.
Isar du VainVibe Terrorist
Isar felt familiar presence in the back of his mind, getting closer.
Here?
Impossible.
Then a shove sent him stumbling forward into the railing.
“Oof.”
The Twi’lek and the Iridonian woman both grabbed their clutches and their drinks, tucking the spice baggies beneath their dresses, and left, not wanting to stick around to see how this turned out.
Isar turned around, raking back locks of wine dark hair from his face. Violet eyes fastened on Sophelia and could not help but drink her in, gaze following the delicate lines of the wraps around the fair muscle of her calves, then skimming all the way up past her blue blouse to her eyes. They looked upset. And angry. And…
The Zeltron swallowed, then loomed over her and ground out, “You’re not supposed to be here, love.”
The amount of danger she was in if Grimwall’s organization found out made him sick just thinking about it.
Sophelia Ardemark
Here?
Impossible.
Then a shove sent him stumbling forward into the railing.
“Oof.”
The Twi’lek and the Iridonian woman both grabbed their clutches and their drinks, tucking the spice baggies beneath their dresses, and left, not wanting to stick around to see how this turned out.
Isar turned around, raking back locks of wine dark hair from his face. Violet eyes fastened on Sophelia and could not help but drink her in, gaze following the delicate lines of the wraps around the fair muscle of her calves, then skimming all the way up past her blue blouse to her eyes. They looked upset. And angry. And…
The Zeltron swallowed, then loomed over her and ground out, “You’re not supposed to be here, love.”
The amount of danger she was in if Grimwall’s organization found out made him sick just thinking about it.
Sophelia ArdemarkImmaculate
“Me?”
As he loomed over her, she didn’t step back or pull away. She went to shove him again. That got a few looks from those who walked by. Hurried to get by. Heel of her palms shoving out toward the hard lines of his chest. All those sleepless nights? Those countless hours of worrying.
That something had happened to him.
It was easier to latch onto anger.
Than to explore what was beneath.
“I shouldn’t be here? Seriously?” Chin tipped back. Shoulders squared. Her noble background completely showing as if she was addressing a delegation. No fear. No shame. Just cool confidence.
“Is this how you treat all your friends? Just ignore them? Ghost them? Making them think…the worst happened?”
A tremble of barely contained ire ran through her body. “Glad to see you’re doing just fine,” she spat.
Isar du Vain
As he loomed over her, she didn’t step back or pull away. She went to shove him again. That got a few looks from those who walked by. Hurried to get by. Heel of her palms shoving out toward the hard lines of his chest. All those sleepless nights? Those countless hours of worrying.
That something had happened to him.
It was easier to latch onto anger.
Than to explore what was beneath.
“I shouldn’t be here? Seriously?” Chin tipped back. Shoulders squared. Her noble background completely showing as if she was addressing a delegation. No fear. No shame. Just cool confidence.
“Is this how you treat all your friends? Just ignore them? Ghost them? Making them think…the worst happened?”
A tremble of barely contained ire ran through her body. “Glad to see you’re doing just fine,” she spat.
Isar du VainVibe Terrorist
The half-unbuttoned purple-gold shirt beneath his blazer was soft, the fabric smooth as palms pressed against it. Fingers pressed into his chest.
Frustration and hurt and something else rolled from her in the Force and in her eyes, the Zeltron attuned to the shifting currents of her emotions as much as he tried not to be.
“I’ve been busy,” he replied icily, his hands coming up to wrap around both of her upper arms.
Killing and drinking. That would just piss her off more if he told her.
Maybe he should… that would get her to finally go. But seeing her here, this close to him again, Isar found he did not want her to leave.
“I told you, didn’t I? I’m bad news. You don’t want to be around me, Stardust.”
His fingers tightened on her arms incrementally.
“You’ll just get hurt.”
Still, Isar could not let her run off now. The things Grimwall would do if he got ahold of her didn’t bear thinking about. Isar let out a sigh.
“What are you doing here anyway? You didn’t come out just for me…”
And then he realized that of course she did. Guilt gnawed at his insides. He needed another drink. The ice evaporated from his tone.
“Ah what the hell, who am I kidding. You never could keep your hands off me. I’ll buy you a drink then.”
He flagged down a waiter.
Sophelia Ardemark
Frustration and hurt and something else rolled from her in the Force and in her eyes, the Zeltron attuned to the shifting currents of her emotions as much as he tried not to be.
“I’ve been busy,” he replied icily, his hands coming up to wrap around both of her upper arms.
Killing and drinking. That would just piss her off more if he told her.
Maybe he should… that would get her to finally go. But seeing her here, this close to him again, Isar found he did not want her to leave.
“I told you, didn’t I? I’m bad news. You don’t want to be around me, Stardust.”
His fingers tightened on her arms incrementally.
“You’ll just get hurt.”
Still, Isar could not let her run off now. The things Grimwall would do if he got ahold of her didn’t bear thinking about. Isar let out a sigh.
“What are you doing here anyway? You didn’t come out just for me…”
And then he realized that of course she did. Guilt gnawed at his insides. He needed another drink. The ice evaporated from his tone.
“Ah what the hell, who am I kidding. You never could keep your hands off me. I’ll buy you a drink then.”
He flagged down a waiter.
Sophelia Ardemark
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Immaculate
Heart quickened as his magenta fingers wrapped around her skin. His icy tone quickly cooling her pulse. He’d ‘been busy.’ Fingers curled into fists.
“Clearly.”
She twisted away from him, sliding out of his reach. Being that close. Was too close. It made her feel things…
He clearly didn’t want.
An indignant rise and fall of her chest as he lectured her about what was good for her. Ire flashing deep in her star-pricked blue eyes. “I thought you knew better by now than to tell me what to do, Prince. Get hurt?”
And she felt dumb.
She had come all this way for him. Lips parted. As if she was about to deny it. Mouth closed then parted again. Stars, she’d been a fool. Still was a fool.
“A little too late for that,” she finally whispered, looking down. No. No! She shouldn’t feel ashamed. He was the one who’s ghosted her! And for what? To live his life clubbing every night.
Blue eyes lifted. She stepped in a half step closer to him even as the waiter came. Drinking was never great for her. But maybe tonight? One drink. To numb the raw edges. To help her relax. Just a little.
One drink.
She ordered a pina colada with no regrets. The music boomed around them. Probably not the best place for confrontational conversations. Or really any talking.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to…talk anymore? I’m a big girl, Isar. I can take it.”
Isar du Vain
“Clearly.”
She twisted away from him, sliding out of his reach. Being that close. Was too close. It made her feel things…
He clearly didn’t want.
An indignant rise and fall of her chest as he lectured her about what was good for her. Ire flashing deep in her star-pricked blue eyes. “I thought you knew better by now than to tell me what to do, Prince. Get hurt?”
And she felt dumb.
She had come all this way for him. Lips parted. As if she was about to deny it. Mouth closed then parted again. Stars, she’d been a fool. Still was a fool.
“A little too late for that,” she finally whispered, looking down. No. No! She shouldn’t feel ashamed. He was the one who’s ghosted her! And for what? To live his life clubbing every night.
Blue eyes lifted. She stepped in a half step closer to him even as the waiter came. Drinking was never great for her. But maybe tonight? One drink. To numb the raw edges. To help her relax. Just a little.
One drink.
She ordered a pina colada with no regrets. The music boomed around them. Probably not the best place for confrontational conversations. Or really any talking.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to…talk anymore? I’m a big girl, Isar. I can take it.”
Isar du VainVibe Terrorist
For a moment, Isar thought she might leave as her anger spiked and her body language spoke of storming off.
Instead, she stayed, even taking a step closer to him after ordering.
Isar studied the azure depths of her gaze for a minute, the corner of his mouth twitching up at her words. A hand snaked around her waist, resting against her back, fingers brazenly on the gap of bare skin between blouse and shorts. One finger hooked into the rear belt loop.
“Can you?”
A pull to tug her closer to him, their knees brushing. The smell of coconuts and sea spray a subtle note beneath the sweat and cologne hanging in the air of the club.
“Take it?” His words seemed edged and sharp, mischievous yes, but dangerous.
His other hand came up and he ran a thumb to tuck back a lock of her hair behind her ear, his head tilting as he studied her beneath the flashing, neon-drenched lights of the club.
“All of it?”
The words hung in the air. Threats and promises.
Then he acquiesced.
“What do you want to know? That I’ve been killing them? Grimwall’s network. Or that I can’t get the thought of the way your skin tastes against my tongue out of my mind…”
“Your drinks,” said a waiter, approaching with gaze averted, used to the goings on in this establishment.
It was the Red Light after all.
Isar snatched up his whiskey and took a long sip, then turned his attention on Soph.
Casually, he pressed the chilled glass to the side of her neck with a smirk.
“You finally going to cash in on that second punch?”
Sophelia Ardemark
Instead, she stayed, even taking a step closer to him after ordering.
Isar studied the azure depths of her gaze for a minute, the corner of his mouth twitching up at her words. A hand snaked around her waist, resting against her back, fingers brazenly on the gap of bare skin between blouse and shorts. One finger hooked into the rear belt loop.
“Can you?”
A pull to tug her closer to him, their knees brushing. The smell of coconuts and sea spray a subtle note beneath the sweat and cologne hanging in the air of the club.
“Take it?” His words seemed edged and sharp, mischievous yes, but dangerous.
His other hand came up and he ran a thumb to tuck back a lock of her hair behind her ear, his head tilting as he studied her beneath the flashing, neon-drenched lights of the club.
“All of it?”
The words hung in the air. Threats and promises.
Then he acquiesced.
“What do you want to know? That I’ve been killing them? Grimwall’s network. Or that I can’t get the thought of the way your skin tastes against my tongue out of my mind…”
“Your drinks,” said a waiter, approaching with gaze averted, used to the goings on in this establishment.
It was the Red Light after all.
Isar snatched up his whiskey and took a long sip, then turned his attention on Soph.
Casually, he pressed the chilled glass to the side of her neck with a smirk.
“You finally going to cash in on that second punch?”
Sophelia ArdemarkImmaculate
"He-ey," a protest left her lips as he tugged her toward him. Even as the feel of his skin sent little shocks of pleasure through her system. Teeth grit, trying to ignore it. Trying to ignore her betrayal of a body.
Weak and pathetic.
Hand lifted to push at his chest, fingers spreading across exposed and tattooed skin, dipping beneath that garish shirt and jacket. Her drink remained untouched on a small table. "You've been going after them. Killing them alone?" Frustration and anger drew golden brows together. Why? Why would he be so stupid? Then a heat rose to her cheeks at his next words.
Throat went dry.
"I know how to handle you, Isar." Painful word spoken after painful word.
Then his cocky smirk. Devilish glint, lethal and volatile spark in those lilac eyes. Someone who probably pulled a few moves like that and was used to getting some pairs of long-legs following him home.
Her free hand shoved that wrist of his away almost immediately. Not caring if his drink spilled in the process. Then wound back, flattening and aiming for a sharp slap against the side of his face.
"See?"
Weak and pathetic.
Hand lifted to push at his chest, fingers spreading across exposed and tattooed skin, dipping beneath that garish shirt and jacket. Her drink remained untouched on a small table. "You've been going after them. Killing them alone?" Frustration and anger drew golden brows together. Why? Why would he be so stupid? Then a heat rose to her cheeks at his next words.
Throat went dry.
"I know how to handle you, Isar." Painful word spoken after painful word.
Then his cocky smirk. Devilish glint, lethal and volatile spark in those lilac eyes. Someone who probably pulled a few moves like that and was used to getting some pairs of long-legs following him home.
Her free hand shoved that wrist of his away almost immediately. Not caring if his drink spilled in the process. Then wound back, flattening and aiming for a sharp slap against the side of his face.
"See?"
Vibe Terrorist
The drink sloshed, the cold liquid spilling over his shirt. A two thousand credit shirt, ruined.
Then she slapped him.
The crack turned his head sideways and left his cheek stinging. Isar’s teeth ground together and his head snapped back toward her as a blur of emotions rose like a whirlwind through him.
“Is that right?”
He gripped her by the offending wrist and tried to pull her into a spin as he turned so that her front would be pressed up against the balcony, him behind her.
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
The words came hot on the back of her neck, against her bare skin. The music pulsing through the place made his words barely audible, thrumming so deeply he could feel it in his gut. A strobing light flashed past them, nearly blinding.
“Handling me?”
One hand moved to her hips as his pressed up behind her.
“Do they teach you how to dance, wherever you’re from? Or are you too busy slapping people who saved your life? Twice. Not that I’m counting.”
He still held the drink in his other hand, though most of it was running down his shirt now.
Sophelia Ardemark
Then she slapped him.
The crack turned his head sideways and left his cheek stinging. Isar’s teeth ground together and his head snapped back toward her as a blur of emotions rose like a whirlwind through him.
“Is that right?”
He gripped her by the offending wrist and tried to pull her into a spin as he turned so that her front would be pressed up against the balcony, him behind her.
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
The words came hot on the back of her neck, against her bare skin. The music pulsing through the place made his words barely audible, thrumming so deeply he could feel it in his gut. A strobing light flashed past them, nearly blinding.
“Handling me?”
One hand moved to her hips as his pressed up behind her.
“Do they teach you how to dance, wherever you’re from? Or are you too busy slapping people who saved your life? Twice. Not that I’m counting.”
He still held the drink in his other hand, though most of it was running down his shirt now.
Sophelia ArdemarkImmaculate
Palm still echoed where it had connected with his face. One hand caught herself against that balcony as she felt his warmth at her back. Caging her in. Neck turned. A flicker of warning in her blues.
Oh, two could play at this game.
Nose brushed against his. Her lips just a breath away from his own. Words tumbled against him in warm puffs.
"Of course I can dance."
A grind of her hips against him. They swayed to the beat of the club. And gave her enough space to spin around. Hands lifted and trailed down the sides of his necks, flicking those wine colored strands of hair before dropping lower across his broad shoulders, then angled off to the side.
"I'm from Tapani."
As if that explained everything. Her hands trailing down the length of his arm until her fingers locked around his wrist. With full intentions of tugging him along with her. Down to the gyrating and moving bodies, below, on the low-lit dance floor that was heavy with curling smoke and the smell of spice and sweat. Lust and desire.
Her drink remained forgotten and untouched. And left behind.
Isar du Vain
Oh, two could play at this game.
Nose brushed against his. Her lips just a breath away from his own. Words tumbled against him in warm puffs.
"Of course I can dance."
A grind of her hips against him. They swayed to the beat of the club. And gave her enough space to spin around. Hands lifted and trailed down the sides of his necks, flicking those wine colored strands of hair before dropping lower across his broad shoulders, then angled off to the side.
"I'm from Tapani."
As if that explained everything. Her hands trailing down the length of his arm until her fingers locked around his wrist. With full intentions of tugging him along with her. Down to the gyrating and moving bodies, below, on the low-lit dance floor that was heavy with curling smoke and the smell of spice and sweat. Lust and desire.
Her drink remained forgotten and untouched. And left behind.
Isar du Vain
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Vibe Terrorist
Those blues mesmerized him. Transfixed him in place while she ground back against him and his body reacted with a surge of heat and warmth and his eyes grew half-lidded with the emotions wrapping around the pair of them.
"Tapani," he repeated, stupidly. Entranced.
He let the drink slip from his fingers and fall on the ground, forgotten and discarded.
Something had happened in Tapani, recently. Something he should remember.
But Isar was three drinks and one line of spice in, with the woman he dreamed about grinding against him and then dragging off to the dance floor on the level below. All thoughts of Tapani and its problems disappeared as he followed her with a hunger in his eyes that he had tried to fight back and now could not save himself from.
"I'll be the judge of that," he whispered in her ear as they descended into the throng of bodies.
And then all concept of spoken words was lost in the crowd. Too much noise. Too much pulsing bass and the thrum of the holowoofers to hear anything else as the soundwaves rippled through them like a physical thing. The smell of cigarra smoke and spice and cologne and sweat mingled together on the dance floor amid the press of bodies. Lights flickered up above, but only stuttering, leaving the heaving mass of bodies on the dance floor dimly lit.
He kept tight hold of her wrist and she his until they finally came to a stop amid the surging press of people. Isar moved with her, spinning her around and pulling her close as the rhythm moved them like a being all its own. Their bodies melded together, his nose in her tangle of blonde hair, his hands all over her waist. Moving. Exploring.
Maybe it was the drinks or the spice, or maybe just the way he felt here with her, but his inhibitions - what little he had for protecting her - shattered. The moment poured over him. The smells. The feels. The emotions. Force. The emotions, like a drug all their own to a Zeltron. He could feel them cascading from the crowd all around him, most of them riding a euphoric high.
Reaching out, his mind caressed that of the woman in his arms, then he asked...
Do you feel it?
And he let her feel what he felt, the heady concoction of sapient emotion, of living that poured out from the crowd all around him, even as bodies jostled against them.
And the feel of her against him. There on the dance floor of Club Parallax.
Sophelia Ardemark
"Tapani," he repeated, stupidly. Entranced.
He let the drink slip from his fingers and fall on the ground, forgotten and discarded.
Something had happened in Tapani, recently. Something he should remember.
But Isar was three drinks and one line of spice in, with the woman he dreamed about grinding against him and then dragging off to the dance floor on the level below. All thoughts of Tapani and its problems disappeared as he followed her with a hunger in his eyes that he had tried to fight back and now could not save himself from.
"I'll be the judge of that," he whispered in her ear as they descended into the throng of bodies.
And then all concept of spoken words was lost in the crowd. Too much noise. Too much pulsing bass and the thrum of the holowoofers to hear anything else as the soundwaves rippled through them like a physical thing. The smell of cigarra smoke and spice and cologne and sweat mingled together on the dance floor amid the press of bodies. Lights flickered up above, but only stuttering, leaving the heaving mass of bodies on the dance floor dimly lit.
He kept tight hold of her wrist and she his until they finally came to a stop amid the surging press of people. Isar moved with her, spinning her around and pulling her close as the rhythm moved them like a being all its own. Their bodies melded together, his nose in her tangle of blonde hair, his hands all over her waist. Moving. Exploring.
Maybe it was the drinks or the spice, or maybe just the way he felt here with her, but his inhibitions - what little he had for protecting her - shattered. The moment poured over him. The smells. The feels. The emotions. Force. The emotions, like a drug all their own to a Zeltron. He could feel them cascading from the crowd all around him, most of them riding a euphoric high.
Reaching out, his mind caressed that of the woman in his arms, then he asked...
Do you feel it?
And he let her feel what he felt, the heady concoction of sapient emotion, of living that poured out from the crowd all around him, even as bodies jostled against them.
And the feel of her against him. There on the dance floor of Club Parallax.
Sophelia Ardemark