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Messages - Ophyonis

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Mine Hall / Re: They Do Move in Herds [ 14.02.2591 / 06AM ]
« on: July 12, 2018, 06:41:22 PM »
When the Hunter fell, Ophysk didn’t realize at first that it was dead. The Bronze only narrowly managed to pull back out of the way, his bulk making him slow; had he been further beneath it, surely he would have been trapped. But because he’d attacked its front legs rather than its underbelly, he was able to react in time.

But he didn’t stop at first, the burning wrath still strong in him, and he surged forward recklessly. Even though the beast lay still, he launched himself at its face, raking with his claws and biting at tender places, at its eyes, until there was even more gore coating his jaws and heavy teeth.

It took Ophy a moment to reach him even for his obedience, and he actually left his place after ushering another Holder further into the tunnels. The thing was down now, though, and those damnable doors were still open. //Enough!// And he put all the command behind it that he had in him, seeking to pierce the clouds of Ophysk’s rage. He’d try to drag the wher off if he had to, but there was no doubt who was the stronger of the two.

The advance of his handler was what truly got his attention, and Ophysk snarled at the Hunter’s corpse one last time before moving to Ophy’s side. He was still bristling and ready, and so as Ophyonis joined those trying to push the heavy doors closed before another Hunter could appear, he told his wher, “Push, you son of a bitch.”

Between those who had rushed to help and the weight of so many whers in tandem, incited by a woman he didn’t recognize and her Bronze, the doors were moving, at least.

He just hoped they were fast enough.

The quick little Blue wasn’t even aware of the presence of bigger whers in the vicinity at first. His only attention had been on the man that his handler had identified, intent on bringing him down and subduing him—even if he wasn’t really old enough yet to understand just how important that was to Ophy’s job. All Onisk knew was that he liked getting physical. Had he not been wearing his muzzle already, he surely would have bitten the man he landed on, bearing him to the ground with a growl that was just as challenging as it was happy.

He didn’t know Vlcarsk or any other opponent was nearby until the Brown quite bodily hauled him off the man he had downed. With teeth tearing through membrane and puncturing the fleshier arm of the wing, he actually screamed then—not just a sound of pain, but of anger too, as he rounded on Vlcarsk with the intention of fighting a where he didn’t know was several times his size.

No matter that he was still only a few months. The tiny little thing just knew it was time for a fight.

Another one of the things that Onisk had trouble with was filtering what passed between his bond with Opyhonis. So as the unfamiliar Brown wher latched onto his Blue, Ophy growled through the flare of pain that erupted in his shoulder and upper arm. It didn’t matter that the injury hadn’t actually happened to him; with Onisk’s pain and rage (but conspicuous lack of fear) on full blast, that got transmitted to.

His original trajectory had been for the man with the knife. But as things truly started to break off into a fight, just as good and messy as any that had happened back at Fort, Ophy’s priorities changed. No one would accuse him of being soft, but the things he’d bonded to held a certain importance to him. And no matter how much trouble he might get in later for not moving to break up the fight right away… he didn’t care.

As he reached Onisk and the Brown wher, he waded right in with no hesitation. Likewise, there was no reluctance in his effort to disentangle them—grabbing Onisk by the harness and punching Vlcarsk as hard as he could right in the snout, where they were more sensitive compared to thicker, more muscled areas. Hopefully it would make the Brown let go, but if Onisk ended up sacrificing a wing, so be it.

Whers didn’t need them to fly. He could live without it.

At the back of his mind, Ophy could tell Ophysk had gotten to his feet, a growl seeming to rise in his own chest just as it did in the Bronze’s. But that wher at least listened, and when his handler wordlessly told him to stay put, near Domni, he didn’t move. Even if he was reluctant not to get involved.

Spoiler for OOC:
I never thought I’d get to have a character punch a wher. XD I don’t want either of them fatally injured, but bring it on otherwise. I’m not anticipating either will leave this unscathed.

Mine Hall / Watched Pots Still Boil [ 13.04.2591; 12:20 PM ] Event
« on: June 28, 2018, 03:07:35 PM »
This was one of Ophy’s “days off”, which meant that, the same as any Peacekeeper without a beat for the day, that he’d been helping with the construction outside the Hall again. The physical labor of it didn’t bother him much, but given the reinstatement of the Keepers, the principle of it did. Sure, Notkerric would say it was about fostering a good reputation with the Holders as well as the Craftsmen. No matter their newly reformed ranks, they couldn’t throw their weight around all the time. Nor did it give them the right to be holier than thou.

But fuck, what he wouldn’t give for an actual day of rest. Just staying in bed with Domni sounded fucking fantastic, and Ophy missed more than he wanted to admit the greater chances he’d had to just laze around at Fort. There had been more space to cover and more people to watch, but there’d been more Keepers too—which meant they’d had an actual shift rotation that involved not working.

Having anything like that again seemed far off into the future.

His real annoyance of the day was not really about hauling the rock, but about wrangling Onisk at the same time. His young Blue was a feisty thing, and so far he’d quickly learned that keeping the beast on a muzzle was currently the best option. He’d taken for granted how easy Ophysk had been to train, as the Bronze hadn’t required that kind of gear after the first few months. Onisk might be nearing that mark himself, but he was showing no signs of learning not to bite everything.

Eventually, Ophy was determined to teach him if only out of sheer stubbornness; he wasn’t about to be bested by his own fucking wher. And though someday the thing would be well-trained enough to bite only when told, for the time being a muzzle would have to do.

Which meant he spent a fair amount of time fighting to keep it on the Blue too. All morning, it seemed that whenever he’d turned his back, Onisk was pawing at the leather straps to try to get them off his nose. And with Ophysk focused on the task at hand, his handler couldn’t just rely on the Bronze to heavy-handedly command the lower-ranked creature. That, and it was the principle of that too—Ophyonis didn’t want Onisk to obey Ophysk specifically; the annoying little monster would have to learn to obey him first and foremost.

So by the time they broke for lunch, he was already in a bad mood. With a heavy chain attached to Onisk’s harness, he had the Blue heeling just to his left as he waited in line for the food being served from the kitchens. Ophysk was laying under the table by Domni, marking their spot, but Ophy was pissed off and determined to make the Blue listen. Leaving him unattended would surely mean the muzzle would be off and chewed up in a matter of minutes, and he wasn’t about to trust Domni to deal with it.

That, and he didn’t really want to deal with her getting bitten.

Which meant that he had a particularly good view of the events that sparked the whole mess. An argument had started further back in the line, around enough of the curve of the room that he could see who and where it was. Someone (or someones) had tried to cut in line, he thought—and a small group was now heatedly telling another handful of individuals to fuck off. A few of them, he vaguely recognized as members of former gangs, though he’d never known their names.

When the first punch was thrown, he’d decided it wasn’t his problem. There were on-duty Peacekeepers that would end it soon enough. But then the light inside the hall caught on something sharp and metal, the moment before he heard a cry and saw blood blossoming down someone’s front and onto the floor.

For all his flaws when it came to biting, Onisk was a quick learner—they’d already covered the basics of identifying and pinning someone that Ophy picked. So there was no hesitation then—he simply pictured the Blue running over to the individual with the knife and tackling them to the floor. Onisk had already been eager and antsy, picking up on the current of tension that bloomed in the room, and he’d shot off as fast as any runner, with his handler in tow.

Spoiler for OOC:
I think it’s about time there was some kind of fight again, don’t you? :para:

The tl;dr is that some reformed gangs are going at each other with increasing boldness. Peacekeepers will no doubt be quick to try to break it up, but I know how much all of you love a good scuffle. :bird: As far as getting your characters involved (or not), live your dreams. :love: As always, there is an OOC thread you can check into here.

Weyr Bowl / Re: The Weyr Provides [ 03.09.2590 / 9 AM ] Event
« on: June 24, 2018, 12:19:02 PM »
Ophy was disappointed with that answer. The idea of having a bit more fun—some really challenging fun—had appealed. That was one of those things he found himself missing about Fort more often than not. Sure, he and other Peacekeepers might spar in order to stay in shape, but it wasn’t… the same. Not as actually fighting someone who was as eager and hungry for it as he was.

He’d have thought this man would be one of those.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. The ‘no’ had been a casual one, with the same polite veneer that he’d long ago learned to recognize meant it was never going to happen. He eyed his opponent then, contemplating what might have been if he’d actually said yes. It was not to be, but it would have been interesting.

Even if it did get him in trouble.

“Shame, though.” He turned to Domni then, intending to collect her so they could go get some lunch. But not without one last jab, as he glanced from the girl that had been manning the booth and back to his opponent. “I guess that means you’ll be giving up those marks she offered?”

Neither of them had really won, but a forfeit of any kind seemed close enough to a loss to him.

Weyr Bowl / Re: The Weyr Provides [ 03.09.2590 / 9 AM ] Event
« on: June 20, 2018, 10:12:34 PM »
He would never, ever admit it, but Ophy was somewhat impressed by the other man’s obvious skill. Or practice. Or both. Though he was certainly younger than the Peacekeeper, he hadn’t fumbled any of his throws—and his confidence seemed well-earned. Of course, Ophyonis was still convinced he would beat him out if they had a real competition. If they were throwing at targets harder than the ones that had been set up for the Gather.

But standing almost idly on the sidelines as he watched the younger man throw, that spark of competition didn’t vanish either. Even though there was little actual challenge in the game. The sheer fact that someone had seriously wanted to test their hand against him was exciting. That they weren’t intimidated by him only added to that; and despite himself, he had to wonder who the fuck this kid was.

His eyebrows went up at the comment, all smooth and like it wasn’t the invitation it sounded like. A thin, altogether unpleasant grin crept across his face, and Ophy shrugged a shoulder with all the casual air as though they were discussing the weather. “What the Weyr doesn’t know won’t hurt it.”

Maybe that was risky. He could get in trouble for violating the Weyrleadership’s rules—and most importantly, make Tavianna and Notkerric angry. But what was today if not about having fun?

It wasn’t his fault that his idea of fun was significantly more violent than most people’s.

Mine Hall / Re: They Do Move in Herds [ 14.02.2591 / 06AM ]
« on: March 10, 2018, 09:51:13 AM »
Young as he was, Onisk didn’t really understand what it was that roused him. All the little Blue knew was that something was wrong. His older Bronze companion might not be reacting to whatever it was—yet, anyway—but it didn’t occur to him to doubt himself because of it. Instead, with all the confidence of a much larger creature, he hissed and nudged at Ophysk. It might have looked comical if anyone were of the presence of mind to see it.

“The fuck are you on about?” Since he hadn’t pulled one of the earlier shifts, Ophy hadn’t bothered to get out of bed yet. Still stretched out and dozing next to Domni before they went down to the Weyr Hall for breakfast, he was less than amused at being woken by grumbling from both whers. Ophysk was about as pleased with the smaller Blue, absently growling at him and pushing Onisk away with one foot.

But then the Bronze paused, and the unfamiliar feeling radiating from Onisk started to make sense. The Blue just hadn’t known what had put him on edge.

That pushed all of them fully awake. Sliding out of the furs, Ophyonis threw on his nearest clothes and shoved his feet into his boots. “Stay here.” It was directed equally at Domnitissa and Onisk—the former, he fully expected to obey without question. And between Ophysk’s higher rank and the beginning of the Blue’s training, Onisk stayed too though he was reluctant and grumbling.

Small he might be, but he was determined to help too. Even if it was just protecting their living quarters.

Ophy knew they didn’t have time for him to put on all of his wherhide armor, but he strapped on what of it he could. The bigger pieces meant to protect vitals rather than limbs. His Bronze pushed out of the room ahead of him, nudging the hanging cloth door aside and taking off down the tunnels at a reasonably quick pace. And the closer they got to the great hall, the clearer it was that this wasn’t just a false alarm or preemptive warning like last time.

The shouting, screaming, and running crowds certainly made that clear.

But of all the things he’d expected to find when he got to the entrance of the Hall, a Hunter inside—past the heavy metal doors—was not something Ophy would have guessed.

Fuck. That was the kind of morning this was going to be.

Their training might not have covered this, but how many times in the past had they had to extrapolate for situations that just couldn’t be planned for? After all that, it was easy to know what to do:  Ophyonis moved to help the nearest group of Holders and Peacekeepers pulling the injured back into the safety of the tunnels, and Ophysk launched himself after the Hunter along with the rest of the whers.

The Bronze was angry. Enraged. How dare this creature push its way inside their home? His sides burned at the memory of the Hunter that had nearly killed him before, the scars it had left behind, and Ophysk used that rage now to further fuel his violence. He knew how to work in tandem with other creatures like himself. And with others attacking the beast’s underbelly and legs, he skidded beneath it to join them. Biting at one of its front limbs, he sawed his teeth at its tough hide, intending to drive it back, to at least make it retreat.

Tearing at its flesh, he’d far prefer if it had to crawl away.

Spoiler for OOC:

If anything, that unfocused look on her face just pleased him all the more. It wasn’t detached in the way he’d seen some people get, when they were hurting and their mind did its best to distance them from what was happening. No, this was something else—like she’d been reduced to little more than her responses to what he wanted of her, the way he touched her and demanded her attention. Ophy found that he liked that. Very much. There was a certain power to it, along with the knowledge that she truly wasn’t trying to recoil from what he was doing—in either body or mind.

That was further confirmed by the fact that she obeyed readily enough. She didn’t hesitate at all, no matter whatever was going on inside her or the way her back no doubt stung. Approvingly, Ophyonis squeezed her ass as she shifted onto her hands and knees.

Once she was, he satisfied yet more of his curiosity. He hit her—hard—with the crop again, quick strikes across her hips and the backs of her thighs. The strokes might not mark her skin, as Ophy had found it was no simple thing to do so, but he wanted her to feel it. Both in the moment and when he ended up fucking her in this position.

He lost count of how many times he whipped her that way, before finally tossing the crop beside her on the bed. Stepping forward to close the distance between them, he grabbed her by the waist to pull her back, completely to the edge of the bed, and pushed into her. One hand remained there on her hip, and the other clawed up her back to tangle in her hair.

She didn’t get any time to adjust before he started moving, rough and quick deep.

Ophysk was indeed less than thrilled when the other Bronze lunged at him too, clawed feet ringing out against the stone of the floor. With the other male in his space, Ophysk lashed out, snapping at him with thick and strong jaws—a warning for Nerihesk to stay away. But when there was no actual physical contact, no impact of one wher running into the other, and his teeth didn’t connect, his attention got drawn away by Arrobesk again.

These other males were competition, yes, and he’d fight any of them if that was what was required. But compared to chasing the Queen when she ran, they were secondary concerns. He’d only combat them if he had to.

Fast when he got going, Ophysk wasn’t built for finesse. But he could get quite a bit of momentum going behind his bulk and mass, and he used all of that to chase after Arrobesk now. He had to be quick, to make up for the clumsy turns and lack of agility. And when she projected her want of a fight at them as she spun, he had to skid to a near halt without running into her. Ophysk had never been a fighting wher, but he was aggressive enough when provoked into it. With lust running all through his blood as Arrobesk ran toward them—toward Nerihesk—that was provocation enough.

He barreled headlong into the other Bronze then, heedless of Yannusesk’s more cunning approach. If Arrobesk wanted a fight for her, a fight she’d get. Mirroring his vicious snap at Nerihesk earlier in the run, Ophysk bit at him, teeth finding purchase as he lifted his forepaws to claw at him too. The big, flashy Bronze didn’t even roar.

Spoiler for OOC:
I don’t even have an excuse for how late this is. :|

@RaynePOTM Completely up to you where/how badly Ophysk bites Nerihesk, and all of that. <3 Let me know if I need to change anything.

Weyr Bowl / Re: The Weyr Provides [ 03.09.2590 / 9 AM ] Event
« on: January 21, 2018, 03:58:30 PM »
With the other, younger man watching him back, Ophy didn’t look away either. He’d long ago stopped being cowed by the glares or displeased looks of other people—sometime in his childhood that he couldn’t even remember. Certainly before the riots at Nabol. Molded by the Pass and the kind of rough crowd his family had always been part of at the Holds, Ophyonis wasn’t intimidated by much. If anything.

When he was younger, he might have taken more insult from his opponent’s jab, but this time he just barked a laugh. If the other wanted him to go first, whatever. No skin off his nose. And while this mysterious man with no name didn’t seem scared, or concerned, Ophy would guess it might be out of pride. Or maybe stupidity.

He’d been that young once too.

So shifting the knives he held in his hand, he simply stepped past him and squared up to throw.

The targets weren’t difficult; after all, they weren’t moving like a living target might have been, and they weren’t that far away—no doubt positioned for anyone who idly had an interest, rather than those who were truly familiar with such a thing. After all, that was the sort of thing that would dominate an event like this; it wasn’t a serious competition. At least, it hadn’t been until the two of them had arrived at the booth.

Ophy’s throws were precise, measured, and lacking the lazy cockiness that otherwise characterized much of what he did. But this was the kind of thing he took seriously—especially with pride on the line. And when the knives had found their mark clustered around the center of the target, he turned and swept a mocking bow to his counterpart.

Spoiler for OOC:
Everyone is so good at friends. 8D @SanctifiedSavage Lemme know if I need to change anything.

Mine Hall / Re: Endgame [ 17.09.2590 / 9pm ] Wher Run Event
« on: September 27, 2017, 02:54:51 PM »
Darsk’s cut around the pillar was about the trickiest of maneuvers that a Bronze like Ophysk could handle. Unable to redirect his momentum as quickly as another might, his feet skidded on the stone floor as he chased her, claws digging against the ground. He cast a spray of loose rock and dirt as he did so, no doubt into the face of some more unfortunate male behind him. But as with all Runs, there was no time to consider the others -- only the Gold ahead of him, fleeing from them all in the hopes that only the best would catch her.

All for a better clutch that way.

Yet that wasn’t Ophysk’s own concern either, but hers. All he knew, or could know in that moment, was his burning need to be the one to catch her, to claim her. Even the movements of the other chasers were ignored by him, including the collision of at least one of Darsk’s suitors with the pillar itself. Only narrowly did Ophysk avoid getting barreled into, snarling at his fellow Bronze, though without real heat.

Now would not be the time to fight another one of them. Not when there was still a Queen to pursue. He just wanted them out of his way.

Even for a creature of his size, strength, and endurance, this Gold was putting him through his paces. Her motions were not tricky, not difficult to predict -- beyond that singular zigzag around the inconveniently-placed pillar -- but she seemed virtually tireless. Lungs going like a bellows, Ophysk could feel the sharp burn of exertion in his muscles. Regardless of whether or not he caught her, this would be a tiring Run. All the better, as far as he was concerned. A Queen like this that would push them so far was certainly worth catching.

Mine Hall / Re: Endgame [ 17.09.2590 / 9pm ] Wher Run Event
« on: September 22, 2017, 05:13:31 PM »
It was really just habit for Ophy to keep an eye on the upcoming Run postings. His Bronze was a healthy one, after all, that relished the chance to chase regardless of whether the female in question was Green or Gold. And it was easier on both of them if he knew in advance around when the Runs were going to be; that way, it wouldn’t be a surprise when Ophysk’s demeanor became more aggressive and focused on potentially sating his lust rather than whatever task his handler had for him.

He was an obedient Bronze, all things considered. But even his patience and rather mild manners could become testy when there was a lady wher about to instigate a Run. Even more so when it was a Gold looking for a suitable sire for her next clutch.

So they were both ready, the day that Darsk took off post-patrol to the Run Cavern. And since it was a locked run rather than a free one, Ophy saw no reason to accompany his Bronze there. Ophysk knew the way, and could be trusted to behave himself on the path. It might unsettle those he passed to see a wher lacking a handler stomping his way to the Cavern, but beyond looking a little grumpy at them, Ophysk wouldn’t leave anyone the worse for wear.

Ophyonis, on the other hand, made his way back to his and Domnitissa’s room. He’d ride the Run Lust out on her as he did for other locked ones, and the free ones that he did not win.

Like the other males, Ophysk knew better than to approach Darsk before she actually fled from them. Her scrutiny he endured in silence, muscles tense and ready—and then once she took off, Ophysk was eager and ready to follow.

Straightforward runs were more his speed regardless. He was not a wher built for finesse or turning on a dime. But if Darsk wanted to run until one of them caught her, that he could do.

Weyr Bowl / Re: The Weyr Provides [ 03.09.2590 / 9 AM ] Event
« on: September 03, 2017, 01:23:38 PM »
Something about the way that the younger man looked at him had Ophy giving him a second look over—a more thorough one this time. He carried himself in a fashion that he hadn’t really seen so much since leaving Fort. So many of those that used to share the underbelly of Fort had dispersed like dust in the wind, seeking new lives and new paths since the move. A number had fled into the arms of the Weyr permanently, siding with them and abandoning their Holder upbringings.

Such as it was, it had been a while since Ophy had met someone else… even remotely like himself… that he didn’t already know. And he had no idea who this man was, but he certainly was that. His bearing made that clear, and his motions too:  the set of his jaw and shoulders, everything. It did annoy the Peacekeeper slightly that he had to look up at him; he didn’t often encounter men who were significantly taller than he was, and it was with narrowed eyes that Ophyonis studied him.

The young girl hawking the booth answered both of their questions in turn, and the faint quirk of a smile rapidly turned into a toothy, if slightly unpleasant, grin. “Five marks, huh? Sweetening the deal for us?” He wasn’t about to complain about that; and if it was a ploy of hers, it was going to work on him at least. Familiar with knives as he was, Ophy felt confident that he could beat just about anyone else that stepped up to the booth—excepting maybe a few other Peacekeepers or the occasional dragon rider that had a more violent bent. Not that he’d admit to such a thing.

So as he selected three of the finely-honed daggers that were arrayed out in front of them, he turned a sly look to the dark-haired man beside him. “Let’s see how good you are.”

@SanctifiedSavage @Drewliet

Weyr Bowl / Re: The Weyr Provides [ 03.09.2590 / 9 AM ] Event
« on: September 01, 2017, 11:29:18 PM »
Though it was being put on by the Weyr, even Ophy had to admit that they knew their audience. How long had anyone on Pern been to a proper Gather? They’d long ago gone the way of so many other formerly common facets to life—certain types of animals, all the other settlements, and regular access to certain delights. So though he was naturally somewhat wary of anything to do with dragon riders at all, it had taken little convincing for him to decide on going—especially when he’d learned that Tavianna, Notkerric, and the rest of their family would be attending.

Ophyonis had never been the sort of man to care about appearances, and he certainly hadn’t bothered to when he was still part of his old boss’ gang. But since joining the Peacekeepers, and since starting to work for Tavianna, those things had mattered a little more. He still needed to be the sort of person that could knife someone in the dark and take care of the evidence, but along with the new perks had come the responsibility of not besmirching their reputation either.

So fine. He’d gone. Even dragged Domni along, though she was typically nervous about being around so many people.

And, though it had been a decision neither one of them had particularly relished, he’d left Ophysk at the Mine Hall. There wouldn’t be much reason for him to go, and one less large beast in what would already be a crowded location was probably for the best. The Bronze might naturally be docile and rather easy-going, but tight spaces weren’t his thing, and neither was screaming; and no doubt, there would be yelling and screeching. So Ophysk had settled into a rare long nap during the day while his handler was away.

Partly out of habit, Ophy had elected to do a circuit of the grounds before committing to any one thing; it was always smart to know the lay of the land, as it were, even if he didn’t anticipate there would be any major altercations today. The Weyr seemed too committed to playing nice for that.

The Farmers’ food looked promising, and so did the chance of betting on the runners. How fucking long had it been since there’d been anything to bet on? Riders had their damn Bet before each Hatching, but that was invite-only, and Ophy wouldn’t have gone even if he ever was. But something like this? It felt more like home, more normal, and he was determined to at least try to make good on his bets. But they had all day, and he wasn’t in a rush, with Domni on his arm as he led her around.

Other booths were less interesting to him—the one the Fishers had seemed more geared toward children or people who liked pretty trinkets, and he had no interest in having things painted on his face. But when a tiny girl with a deceptively loud voice started shouting about daggers, that caught his attention right quick.

This was something he could get on board with.

Slipping his arm out of Domni’s, Ophy directed her to one side, out of the way, and told her firmly to stay put. Only then did he slide a mark to the hawker, briefly eying the man that had stepped up in front of him. Whatever form this took, he wanted in on it. “This a single person game, or a competition?” He’d wait his turn if the former. If the latter… even better. He’d relish the practice and an opponent both.

@Drewliet @SanctifiedSavage

Arrobesk’s brief notice of Ophysk drew the Bronze wher’s attention, the faintly lifted end to her growl an indication that during her Run, at least, she would tolerate his presence. No doubt her reaction would have been very different were that not the case. She was a strong looking Gold, almost scrappy in a way—just as Arrobella herself appeared.

It would be an interesting evening, if Ophysk caught her wher.

He paid little mind to the others that gathered, another man and a younger woman among them. They were bonded to a Bronze and a Brown, respectively:  so serious contenders for the win. Ophy felt a faint spike of aggression from his own bonded. He would fight them during this Run, if he had to. While he might normally be a rather docile for a watchwher, all of that would fall to the wayside when Arrobesk’s Run actually began.

Someone less used to snarling whers might have jumped indeed when the Gold rounded on them with a snarl. Nevertheless, Ophyonis just grinned. Ophysk wsa less amused, a growl rumbling up out of his throat, that any creature would make threatening gestures toward his handler. Yet whatever altercation there might have been dissipated, if solely because Arrobesk chose that moment to spin away and dart off.

The Run was officially under way.

Only then did Ophy move back toward the entrance. Remaining with his Bronze while they waited was one thing. But only an actual iddiot would remain somewhere that could end up in the path of a Queen eager to mate, and all her suitors besides.

That Arrobella was talking to one of the other men didn’t bother him any. It would be her wher’s doing, ultimately, that determined who she’d be leaving with. And even if Ophysk didn’t win, and none of the other contenders were partial to his company, Domni would still be warming his bed.

Ophy only really knew of the pair through reputation, but that was enough. Arrobesk’s Runs were notoriously bloody things, even for those who won, but that didn’t dissuade him or his Bronze from wanting to participate. Ophysk had healed since the Hunter attack that had nearly taken his life—enough so that he’d already participated in other Runs in the last few months with no ill effects.

Plus, it wasn’t in either of their natures to worry. Either he’d catch her or he wouldn’t. But regardless of that outcome, Ophysk was a big wher. A strong Bronze. Any contenders who sought to fuck with him would not find him shrinking or docile.

If ichor got drawn, so be it.

So Ophyonis had idly been waiting in the Dining Hall after dinner, waiting for when the bloodthirsty Gold would let anyone close enough to start the Run—watching as Ophysk’s eyes changed from an excited green to moody orange, deepening to ruby red before finally settling on a mix between that and purple, like a dark wine. A definite change came over the Bronze not long after that, rising from where he’d been laying with tense muscles and attention fixated in the direction of the Run Cavern. Which could only mean one thing, really:  the Gold had finally called to her prospective mates. The Run itself was about to start.

“‘Bout time.” If it had just been a Green, Ophy might have said ‘fuck it’ to the whole thing and just rode out the Run Lust with Domni. But he could tell when Ophysk was gonna be stubborn, and this was one of those times. The Bronze wasn’t about to be denied chasing a Queen when he had the opportunity.

Well trained as he was, though, he didn’t leave his handler’s side as they made their way to the Run Cavern. Even as they reached the edge of it, where Arrobella was waiting, he stayed close. Virtue of a well-trained ‘Keeper wher being that he did what he was told. And Ophysk knew better than to approach Arrobesk yet, skirting off to the side of the entrance in the same direction that his handler did too. Out of the way. They’d hardly be the last to show up, but antagonizing the prickly Gold wasn’t the best way to start this off either.

Wasn’t much point in talking before a Run, at least in Ophy’s opinion, so he didn’t. Just nodded a greeting to the other handler as he rested one hand on his Bronze’s shoulder. Wouldn’t be long now.

Truthfully, he hadn’t directly intended to mock her, but the twitch of a grin along his mouth didn’t exactly communicate that. His fingers drummed a quick pattern against the tabletop, and then Ophy flicked them outward in a gesture of dismissal. “Sure, sure. Don’t know many Holders who talk like that, though.” Which, despite her words to the contrary, seemed to indicate that she at the very least knew the transformation to being a proper wife wasn’t quite done yet. Either that or his presence had shaken her enough to break the more polished façade for a moment.

“Ain’t that the truth. Most are scared of us. And for good reason.” There was no point in denying he could count himself among all those things. The gang had saved him from a worse fate growing up. Stealing had been a simple act of survival. And murder, well… murder was something he’d discovered a long time ago that he had a certain taste for.

Far more than normal, probably. Not that Ophy’d ever lost sleep over it.

Hooking one leg over his other knee, he leaned back in the chair, eyes flicking around the inside of the room. “Well, even mean whers can behave sometimes. And I’ve got no reason to do anything stupid here. Just visiting, though. Not like I’m actually a ‘Keeper or anything.”

Not yet, anyway. Maybe that would change, if Xerlyle was right and it wouldn’t be so different from enforcing, and more lucrative too.

The heat of her response had him arching his eyebrow, though Ophy wasn’t really concerned. He hadn’t threatened her, nor really done anything untoward save acknowledge that he recognized her from less than respectable beginnings. So he just shrugged slightly, leaning an elbow on the table to his left as he watched her. “Nah, nothing wrong with it. Just surprised ‘cause most that come from such a place aren’t so fond of ‘Keepers.”

Which would beg the question of why he was there, but he didn’t really care if she was curious. Seemed like it was going to be an amusing conversation either way, if she was so insulted that he’d spoken to her at all.

At her question of whether or not he was married, though, Ophyonis laughed again. It wasn’t a pleasant sound in general, though this particular iteration wasn’t outright meant to be cruel. “Who, me? Nah, I ain’t got a pretty enough face to snag some nice Holder lady. And I don’t care enough to act at being anything other than what I am.”

Ophy supposed he should have expected that kind of response. Whatever she might have been when he’d seen her last, the woman before him now was a far cry from that. She had the look of someone who was actually fed and taken care of—a well-to-do Holder woman with long, pretty hair and a baby on her arm. The very picture of domesticity.

Which she probably was, if she’d managed to get out of that life and find the protection of a ‘Keeper. Her husband, if he’d have to guess. Absently, he wondered if they knew about her past. Wouldn’t that be a surprise, if they didn’t?

Unlike some, Ophyonis didn’t see those who got out and got better lives as traitors. A lot of people tended to, poisonously jealous of those who clawed and climbed their way out of the slums, away from the gangs and the brothels and the gambling dens. But as far as he saw it, that’s what everyone wanted:  more than what they had. Some were just better at getting it than others. Which it seemed she was, if she was here, now, looking like that and feigning that ‘Little Red’ was not a name she knew.

Someone else might have doubted themselves then, fearing they’d been mistaken and given offense. Ophy didn’t care. He knew he was right, though it’d be no surprise she didn’t recognize him in return. They’d only crossed paths a handful of times, back when he was still a courier delivering messages and goods to and from the gang and its allies. And oh, but she’d been a sweet and fiery thing. Still was, if that sharp and cutting edge in her polite question was any indication.

Absently, he picked a chair and crossed to it, smirking at her as he sat. “Don’t worry, I’ve got no reason to fuck with you. Just wasn’t expecting to see you here.” His gaze swept her up and down. “Suits you though. You out and married now?”

Knowing the way to the Peacekeeper Headquarters was never a thing Ophy had thought he’d ever have cause to know. Sure, he’d grown up knowing their beats, when and where they usually showed up in business that wasn’t theirs, and how to avoid getting caught doing something they’d get pissy about. But never before had he cared where the damn things came from or went to everyday. Their base of operations was in a nicer part of the Hold regardless, which wasn’t somewhere he had a need to go. Even when he’d still been a courier instead of an enforcer, there just hadn’t been a reason.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever be friends with one either, but there he was. Fuckin’ friends with one. Granted, it helped that Xerlyle was less than above the table in his dealings, selling his time equally to the Peacekeepers as to the head of Ophy’s gang. So whatever prejudice Ophyonis might have held for him from being a ‘Keeper was negated by that.

Not to mention they’d hit it off real quick, which was why he was making his way to the headquarters in the first place. Ophy had never given a fuck about his own Turnday. But Xerlyle had insisted it was the kind of thing to be observed—bespeaking a slightly more reputable Holder upbringing, Ophyonis guessed—and who was he to turn down drinks or drugs he didn’t have to pay for, and probably a pretty whore to go along with it all?

Xerlyle had been clear there was a room for visitors to wait in. He’d been tasked with helping to train the new recruits that particular evening, meaning his shift would end earlier than normal. And if Ophy wanted to meet him there, he was welcome to.

Finding it was easy enough, with its few seating arrangements for those that might be waiting too. Pushing the curtained door aside as he stepped into it, Ophyonis wasn’t surprised to see someone else—even a woman with a baby. Had to be the wife of one of the ‘Keepers. But his eyes did narrow faintly as he crossed the threshold.

Why did she look familiar?

The red hair was the first thing that tugged at his memory; and then, when she glanced up to see who he was, the sight of her face clicked into recognition and he barked a quick laugh. “Little Red? What are you doing here?”


Ophy couldn’t say how many minutes passed of him hitting her with the crop, and the actual length of time didn’t really matter. Not when he had all night with her. But Domnitissa’s unfeigned reactions drove him on, exploring different angles and strengths of strike all across her back, even down to the top of her ass. The varied sounds, depending on so many different things all at once, steadily had the heat rising in his blood.

“You really are a sturdy little thing,” he crooned to her approvingly, tracing the tip of the crop down her spine in a steady drag. Only the harder of his hits even seemed to promise eventual marks, which gave him some idea how far he could go in marking and hurting her—all valuable knowledge for the rest of the night and when he saw her again. Which seemed an inevitability at this point.

Stepping closer to the bed, Ophyonis twirled the crop around her side, using the shaft of it to tilt her head up so she was slightly arched and looking up at him. His free hand ghosted over her left shoulder and then down, tapping a little half-rhythm on her collarbone. “I want you on your hands and knees now.” Another croon, soft but promising. He fully intended to fuck her again then, though a few testing strikes on her ass and the backs of her thighs might be in order first.

Though it wasn’t exactly a massage, the sensation of her rubbing him down with soapsand was similarly relaxing. Ophy hadn’t originally imagined ending the evening in the Bathing Springs, but doing so had turned out well. With Domni still on his lap, he steadied her with one hand on her hip, thumb splayed down toward her thigh.

And when she was done, with her arms looped over his shoulders, he cracked one eye open. Lazy as he was, he didn’t really want to stand up. But finishing their bath seemed a good idea. Then they could either relax more in the water or make their way back to their shared room.

“Sure. Then I’ll wash you.” He didn’t care so much about returning the favor out of politeness; rather, it was just another reason to get to touch and enjoy her.

Shifting under her, Ophy lifted her off his lap and then rose, setting her on her feet. He stretched then, spine popping softly as the tensions of the day further worked their way out of his muscles.

The sound of her breath catching was a sweet thing. Ophy didn’t mind that she usually made so little noise when he was hurting her; the way she relaxed into it was always worth it, and at times like that those soft intakes or exhalations of breath said more than any moan, whimper, or scream ever could. That he could shake even her quietly practiced composure was a different kind of pleasure altogether, and one that had him all but purring with his mouth against her skin.

He did pause when she tensed, but her muscles didn’t stay taut for long. More like it had just been out of surprise. No matter how many times he’d imagined it, Ophyonis had never cut her before. That had been off-limits, tempting fate too much even for him. He wasn’t obsessed with her—not like some poor idiots who got themselves tangled up with some whore and then thought love was involved—but Ophy didn’t like being denied things he wanted. And if he’d hurt her too badly, her former owner would have done just that.

Once she had relaxed again, he swiped at the cut with his tongue a second time and leaned back again. The next few cuts were just as slow and precise, though they were only half the length of the first. With steady hands, he made sure they were perfectly straight, equally spaced and angling in perfect rays to create the first curve of a half circle that would spread between her shoulderblades.

It was a design he’d thought about for a while, and one that was oh so satisfying to create. It would end up mirrored on the other side of her back, and the centerpiece of it nestled perfectly centered on her spine.

Though he took his time, Ophyonis didn’t lower his mouth back to her skin until he’d finished the first half. Domnitissa wasn’t bleeding profusely, but the tracks of blood, like red tears, had run together, dripping along her sides in thin rivulets and pooling at the slightly lower place between her shoulders, even inching down her spine. The smell of it was distinct, warm and coppery, and even more vivid when he licked at the bright red lines on her skin.

“Fuck, Domni.” The words came out as a low moan against her skin. It was really a shame he couldn’t do this and fuck her at the same time. But that would just be asking for a careless cut or the ruination of the design he was creating. But there’d be no uncertainty about the fact that this was doing things to him that nothing else ever quite had. 

When she gripped his sides, Ophyonis thought maybe she wasn’t ready to leave just yet after all. Even so, obedient as ever, she moved off him, and he pulled her to her feet once he’d risen to his own. Domni was steady on them, if nothing else, which meant she was doing better than she had been when he’d first found her.

“Oh, fuck no, we ain’t going back there.” She had to mean the Weyr Hall where the fight had taken place. There was just no reason to go back there at all—so he squeezed her hip in a way that was meant to be reassuring. “No point. We’re gonna go back to our room, is all.”

Once it was clear she was ready, if she was, he’d lead her there. But for the moment, Ophy leaned one hip against Ophysk when the Bronze stood next to him. In the dim light, he watched Domnitissa to see her expression best he could. “Things ended pretty quick,” he explained, knowing that would probably reassure her too. “The riders put it down and whipped us all. Everyone they caught, anyway. Didn’t like being challenged, I guess.” The last came out nearly as a growl.

Mine Hall / Re: Not a Gift, Exactly [ 12.5.2590; 6 PM ] || Domnitissa
« on: June 23, 2017, 08:56:44 PM »
“Good girl.” Despite her previously stunned silence, Ophy could tell Domni meant what she said. He’d never heard her say something with such conviction before, even if it was soft. The amount of seriousness in her voice was a good sign—she’d do whatever she needed to in order to keep the egg alive, which was good. If she proved negligent, that would be her one chance. In the event that Domnitissa’s egg didn’t hatch through some fault of hers, he’d not be getting her another. But Ophyonis didn’t imagine that would be the case.

He just hoped the thing didn’t turn out to be a dud.

“No idea when it’ll hatch,” he commented almost absently, tracing one finger down her jaw in something like an affectionate gesture. “Since I’ve got no fucking clue when it was laid. But it usually takes ‘bout two months from that to hatch, so you’ll have something less than that to wait.”

Stepping away from her then, he sat on the edge of the bed and set to pulling off his boots and socks. Now would be the time to relax, since work was done for the day.

A bit amused since she had yet to move, Ophy flicked his eyes to her. “It could hatch at any time, so it’ll prob’ly be best if you aren’t ever away from the room for long.” Not that she was as a general rule, unless they were eating or visiting the Bathing Springs. “Do you know how you’re supposed to bond to it when the time comes?” 

When it seemed at first that she wasn’t too keen on talking, Ophyonis didn’t either. After all, this was one of the reasons that he’d gone to her in the first place -- because unlike the official Healers in their Hall, she wouldn’t ask questions that would be better going unanswered. With his arms held out before him, he allowed her to move them however she needed as she inspected and cleaned them.

The question she did ask, though, was a pertinent one:  one that she seemed to have answered for herself when she peeled up his shirt, which was now sticky with blood, both his own and not. “Ahh, fuck.” Ophy flinched as the drying blood and fabric tugged at the wound, but the curse wasn’t particularly heated and wasn’t directed at her. Outside, Ophysk shifted uncomfortably at the greater flare of his handler’s pain, but obediently stayed where he was and made no move to enter the hut he had been forbidden from.

“Just there. I think.” Ophy added the last with a faint snort. Sometimes, with the adrenaline of a fight, certain wounds would go unnoticed until later. Which was yet another reason he’d sought out someone who could tend his injuries. He didn’t exactly like the idea of losing too much blood or getting an infection because there was something he’d missed.

“It’s the only one I feel, anyway,” he clarified, “other than the ones on my arms.”

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