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Messages - Ophyonis

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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 Weyr 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.”

 Those sweet gasps of hers were exactly what he wanted to hear. Especially given the fact that she didn’t shy away from the blows, nor was she visibly distressed by them. Either this was something she actually enjoyed, or she was a good actress. Ophy would take either, so long as she kept making those sounds. And that smile she sent him over her shoulder drew an answering smirk from him. Oh yes, she was a responsive thing. Another point in her favor as far as he was concerned.

If she didn’t react to the things he did to her, it’d just be boring. But at least so far, she was anything but.

When she didn’t protest at what he’d done to her so far, Ophyonis struck her four more times across the back, angling them in measured intervals from her lower back toward her shoulders—criss-crossing the faint, already fading marks he’d made on her skin and increasing the strength of the blows each time. Whatever she decided was edging into the territory of too much, he’d pull back just a bit from that to avoid doing any real damage. Then he'd layer the lashes over her until she was panting, trembling, and he was satisfied.

And then he'd take her again, and learn what sorts of sounds she'd make when he raked his fingers over the eventual marks on her skin.

“Good.” Ophyonis wasn’t really sure if Domnitissa understood the full significance of him offering to get her such a creature, but it didn’t particularly matter to him either way. He knew she’d be grateful regardless, and so long as she took care of it, it was no skin off his nose. Once the thing was old enough to hunt for bugs and the like on its own, it would mostly feed itself. Or so he’d learned from the few people he knew that had one, and the Miners he occasionally talked to since the move from Fort.

There seemed some excitement in her tone, anyway, though it was hard to tell if that’s what it was so much as lingering adrenaline from the events earlier in the day. Whatever the case, Ophy knew she’d do as he told her with the thing once he got an egg for her.

“We should get back.” Though he didn’t make a motion to rise just yet, Ophy didn’t particularly want to spend the rest of the afternoon in this dark, remote section of the tunnels. If Domni needed another moment or so in order to calm down, it’d be less hassle for them both if he gave it to her. But she seemed to have recovered from her fright once he’d found her.

Mine Hall / Re: Not a Gift, Exactly [ 12.5.2590; 6 PM ] || Domnitissa
« on: April 26, 2017, 05:52:04 PM »
Rising from where he knelt in front of the trunk, Ophy let the lid fall closed again and moved back to Domni with the wadded rags. She was just staring at the egg, which he wasn’t sure meant she was pleased or just stunned. Whatever the case, he carefully lifted the egg, filling her cupped hands with a hollowed nest of cloth, and settled it back in her palms. “Here. Just hold it in those, and I’ll be right back.”

Ophysk looked up as his handler moved to leave, but Ophyonis sent the Bronze the image of him staying on his sleeping couch. Though he huffed faintly, the wher set his head on his paws and remained where he was. Idly, he watched Domnitissa and the egg she held. The weight of his gaze might be unsettling to her, but Ophysk showed little interest in bothering her or the flit egg now that he’d been told no.

With as close packed as things were in the Mine Hall, it didn’t take Ophy long to reach the kitchens. Thankfully, he only had to offer little by way of explanation in order to snag some coals in a small clay pot. His next stop was the small Hatching Sands meant for the wher that lived in the Mine Hall and what would eventually be the hold, if their own handlers didn’t have a place for them to lay their eggs. Scooping some of the sand into the pot, he closed the lid on it. He could scarcely feel the heat radiating from it, which he knew was a good sign—better insulation meant it’d take longer for the warmth to dissipate.

Slipping back into their quarters, he eyed Domni again. “The coals will need changed once they die, so you may have to go to the kitchens without me at some point if I’m working. If you let it stay cold too long, the flit inside will die.” Ophy knew that Domni disliked going anywhere without him, but hopefully she’d understand this was important.

Ophy, too, was more than happy to just sit in the quiet after sex. Though he might tease and give her commands in the midst of the act, he wasn’t a man given to either sentiment or affection. And after he came, he was content to simply relax and catch his breath. Keeping her balanced on his lap, he half closed his eyes and watched Domni as they both recovered from their respective releases. As warm and nice as the water felt too, he almost felt capable of dozing there.

Instead, he just lazily hummed his approval as she touched his shoulders and kissed along his jaw. Ophyonis even tilted his head for her some to give her better access to his neck and jaw, not particularly concerned with directing her in that moment. Though he did groan softly when she shifted and he slid out of her, that faint drag of friction still sending a nearly painful twang along his nerves.

Leaning back against the edge, he ran his fingers over her back, sides, and hips, tracing the places where he’d scratched her and stroking her skin all at once. They’d still need to finish bathing before they ended up retiring to his bed, but they had more than ample time for that.

Weyr Bowl / Re: Things that roar in the night [05.05.2590/Around 9pm]
« on: April 12, 2017, 03:31:49 PM »
Most of the time, Ophysk was an easy-going wher. Unlike many of the Bronzes bonded to Peacekeepers, he didn't have problems with being overly aggressive or difficult to control. The only time he became so was during actual danger; in those moments, he was a terrifying sight to behold. And maybe his rages were all the more intense for his normal calm. Beyond those, the only other times he really let himself go was during Runs.

His presence, usually so steady and stable at the back of his Handler's mind, became overwhelming during times such as these. But where a more reserved or careful Handler might have tried to reign in that wildness, to temper their wher, Ophy never did. He saw no reason to; the heady rush of Run Lust was just a different kind of high, and one that he'd gladly give himself over to. The potential loss of control or inhibitions that accompanied it didn't scare him. Rather, he enjoyed it -- there was nothing else quite like it.

So all his attention was on the Gold wher, because that's where all of Ophysk's was. The huge Bronze tried to anticipate Kyarsk's changes of direction, to compensate for his own difficulty in making sharp turns. Any faint inkling there might have been that she was going to change her momentum, he did the same with his own. A risky maneuver, because if he misjudged it would put him further behind the others. But worth it if it paid off.

If nothing else, he did not tire. Even long into the run, when Ophyonis could feel the burn in Ophysk's muscles, the Bronze didn't really register the discomfort. Not when the Gold was still unclaimed. There would be time for exhaustion later. And while the muscles in his sides were stiff from his recently healed injuries, there had been no sharp pang to indicate he was overtaxing himself, or that he had pushed too far.

That was a good sign too.

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