| A Touch Of Silk |
| Summary: | Lucienne and Rutger share an interesting conversation by the fireside. PS THEY'RE DRUNK. |
| Date: | 25/06/2012 |
| Related Logs: | {$related} |
| Players: |
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| Campsite, Seagard |
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| There's a fire. And four ninja guards. |
| 24 June 289 |
The squires had their melee today, but that has long ended; so has the day, a new one begun in a shroud of darkness. Most people are asleep - the sane ones, anyway. It is out under the stars that a figure, garbed all in black and illuminated only by flickering firelight sits. Lucienne's dark hair is loosed, her curls falling in a tumble down past her shoulders, some still trained in the wavy patterns of her daily braids. She lifts a flask to her lips and drinks deeply, staring into the flames.
The sane ones seem indeed, likely to be the ones that are asleep and not roaming the various encampments, drunk. There's a pause though as Rutger seemingly slips in easily enough, one hand attatched to a wine skin, the other attached to his belt. It is not as seemly as a flask, but it's contents do the same thing. There's a brief pause though as light blue eyes fall to where the dark haired woman sits. "Oh there you are." Rutger slurs "I've been looking for you." apparently Lucienne from behind seems like any other riverland girl.
Not entirely caught unawares by Rutger's voice, Luci splutters her spirits nonetheless. Most unladylike, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she turns to look over her shoulder, choking again in surprise as her eyes light upon the Nayland. "You have?" She blinks, and remembers herself only after a beat: "My lord?"
"Huh?" Rutger looks for a moment before there seems to be a bit of pause and horror that comes up over his features breifly. "Oh Lady Terrick..I." Rutger says before lowering his voice for a moment. "I thought your ass belonged to a different girl. My apologies.." And he starts to move as if to skate by. Because…Awkward
Lucienne stares at Rutger for a moment, something of shock in her gaze. She blinks again. And then she turns her pink-cheeked face back tot he fire to hide her smirk as she tells him, "You Naylands are terribly impolite, you know." She sounds rather amused about it, and adds: "My lord." No hypocrisy here!
Rutger eyes Lucienne for a moment as he turns back. "I tend to be the polite-est when not stuck into my cups." the Nayland knight notes before he smirks back, a motion made "As I am here, may I share your fire?" he does ask, at least-maintaining some dignity. "We did not have much time to talk when I was last at the Roost, but I can say-truthfully, you are a fine lady to speak briefly with."
"Please, my lord," replies Lucienne, gesturing with her flask to any number of suitable spots for sitting beside the fire with her. Here. Or there. Or over there. Or right here? After indicating a few of these spots, she draws another, smaller mouthful from her flask. "We did not," she agrees lightly as she re-corks her flask and nestles it in her lap. "You're a very fine lady without a shirt - oh. Lord. To speak briefly with. My lord. As well." Her thin brows knit with a touch of frustration, for her words are tumbling out all wrong. "I'm usually much more eloquent," the Terrick girl assures Rutger, blushing fiercely.
With the gesture, he flops down rather regally, for someone intoxicated. "Alas, cliff diving is not one of the more conversational sports." he adds, before drinking down more wine, because hat is always a good idea. "You mean I am a very fine Lord without my shirt on, and to speak briefly to?" a faint smile there. 'had I noted you were noticing I would have teased more, Lady." Rutger adds, with a faint chuckle. "Do not worry with eloquence. My tongue is fucked for the night, I fear."
"That's exactly what I meant," Luci interjects as Rutger is chuckling, bestowing upon him a very lovely smile for his understanding. That curse of his causes enough shock to prompt both of her hands to fly up and press at her lips, though, her flask dropping into her lap and sinking her skirts between her knees. "You can't say that!"
"Of course." he replies with a grin before he is drinking down more wine. And there, is a glance back over to her as eyes come off the fire. "Perhaps not, but it has already been said. I still live and the world still turns. I believe I am fine." A pause "What has you awake this late, lady? And alone-I should add."Rutger has all the fine questions.
"Oh," says Lucienne, almost convinced by Rutger's logic there. But — "Wait." She puzzles it out a little longer, before waving a hand dismissively. "I'm not alone," she says with a shake of her head, gesturing wildly over her shoulder. "You just can't see my guards and my handmaid. I have four, you know. Guards. Not handmaids. I have plenty of those, too, though. And I'm awake," she finally comes around to responding, "Because of… things. Rumours, I suppose. I'm rumour-nating. Do you see what I did there, Lord Rutger?"
"Of course. Guards. Hundreds of em. That's how I suck in. past them and sneak, Sucked? Snucked? Whatever." Rutger says with a wave of his hand. "Things and rumors? What rumors, may I ask, plague a fine woman like yourself?" Yes, ever polite he is. "I know my fair share of rumors." Rutger adds in.
Lucienne's expression changes, and she looks rather pointedly at Rutger as he challenges the vigilance of her guards. "Are you going to strangle me too? Because unless you are, then I think my men are doing a fine job, Ser. My lord."
Rutger stares flatly back to Lucienne. "I haven't decided yet, though to tell the truth Lady. I only strangle for two occasions, one is death, the other I cannot speak on with a proper lady as yourself." Counter point.
Lucienne's lips start to curve, the fire's reflection dancing across her dark, glassy eyes. She is smirking again. "So she was the latter gone wrong, then," supposes the lady, entirely improper and unapologetic.
"No." he replies back as if it was a challenge to answer such a question. And there he tilts his head for a moment. And there he raises a brow, for a moment. "I had no idea that was such a concern. I merely thought ladies fancied scarves here in the riverlands." comes a thinly vieled bit of sarcasm. And Rutger drinks more. "Why is that of interest of you?"
"No?" Lucienne sounds disappointed, for all her smirk remains. She hums a sweet little note of laughter in reply to Rutger's question, and dips her head, curls falling forward to obscure her face as she parts her knees just barely and rustles around in the folds of her skirts. Her flash is down there somewhere, isn't it? She pauses, looks back up, shaking her hair from her face to reveal a softer, lazier expression. "I'm not sure that you're the kind of man who'd really like to know the answer to that question, Lord Rutger."
"If I say no, what other option does that leave?" Rutger replies before her's looking back doown towards the lady's skirts. Eyes looking to where she is rustling and ruffling, before eyes slowly crane back up. "I do believe, I am the kind of man that likes knowing many answers, Lady Lucienne." he replies with a grin. "I pride myself in getting answers, or at least, reactions."
She could be blushing again at that reply from Rutger, or it could just be the warmth of the fire. Or all that alcohol. "But you did strangle her," is what she says, finally producing her flask again, and straightening her back as she knocks her knees firmly back together. Force of habit, that one.
Rutger sips from his wine again. "I did." he replies evenly enough. A glance given to Lucienne for a moment. Surely it is the fire, but the drunk Nayland doesn't blink. No he creeper stares just fine. More wine, surely.
Lucienne rakes a long, lascivious (drunk) glance over Rutger as he gives her his simple admission, her lips parting slightly as her eyes meet his. Her chest heaves as she draws a deep breath, and she tells him seriously, "I like an honest man, Lord Rutger. I almost strangled a girl once - such a shame I didn't." A hollow sound resonates within her little flask as she pops the cork, and the Terrick girl breaks eye contact to drink.
"Girls are easy enough things to strangle." Rutger states. "You just need to know where to place your hands." he says with a involuntary flex of his left hand. And there he eyes Lucienne for a moment. "You all are fragile, fragile things." he adds with a smirk. "But, do go on. Divuldge and see if I cannot help you."
"She's long dead now," laments lady Luci on the heels of a swallow of spirit, a wistful look crossing her features. "A noose did my job for me." She rubs one slender hand over the delicate skin of her own throat, and sighs slowly. "This is a rather obscene conversation we're having, isn't it my lord?"
"It is, but whom are we going to tell?" Rutger states. "I gain nothing by it, nor do you, particularly." he adds before taking in the view across the fire. And there's movement. slow, though as to not upset her ninja guards, as he moves to sit closer to Lucienne. "Hands wrapped in silk, to hide the bruising." he adds. "Rather it was sheets, but I find the other poetic in the telling."
"If you drink enough," points out Lucienne, tipping her flask in Rutger's direction as he moves closer, "This'll all seem just a dream, anyway." She smiles, an eerie thing this time, tight in the corners as her lashes part wider. "I'm not short on silk, as you can see," says she, pinching her skirt between two fingers and lifting the fabric. "Was it as exhilarating as I imagine it to be, my lord?"
"I always need to." Rutger admits before he is looking back towards Lucienne for a moment. "no, I find dreams pleasant. Life, not entirely, so much." he adds, before he is looking to her skirt and there she goes, lifting the fabric. Swallowing for a moment. "Killing someone with my bare hands?" a pause at the queerness of the question. "I did feel alive afterwards, yes."
Lucienne is hanging on Rutger's response, her eyes never wandering from his face. "Alive," she repeats in two drawn out syllables, the word dissolving into another short bubble of laughter. Her eyes are shining, and her smile is an easy, amused thing. "Oh, I see what you did there. Very clever, Lord Rutger. Very clever, indeed. I like clever men, too."
"Indeed? I like girls who like clever men." Rutger responds as he eyes Lucienne for a moment. "Where would you like to see this conversation to end up?" And the Nayland knight allows his own expression to hang there. "As the night is yet, young."
Lucienne grins across at Rutger, flashing white teeth briefly. She allows her eyes to wander, feigning contemplation for a long moment. "I can think of many places I would like to end up with you this evening, Lord Rutger," she admits, turning her head to regard him sidelong past her dark curls. "But none of them are anywhere two such as you and I should contemplate."
Rutger chuckles. "Why lady Lucienne? Are you afraid of being left alone with me?" he asks cocking his head ever so slightly. "Are you afraid of my hands finding purchase along your throat?" a raise of his brow. "Perhaps we should not contemplate such things. But, I am always open for ah-conversation." YEAH BABY
Lucienne's tongue peeks out of her mouth, then slips away quickly as she turns her face back to Rutger. She struggles to find what she wants to say as her dark eyes search his, breathing heavily all the while and chewing down fiercely on her lower lip - when her teeth finally unclench, there's still a small indentation left there. "Mmmm," she murmurs, lifting her chin a little. "I don't imagine we'll have much opportunity for conversation, my lord." And how very, very disappointing that is.
"A pity." Rutger states. "I have been known to talk through the night." and with that Rutger rises up and brushes down his trousers. After a moment, fingers waggle towards the Terrick lady. "Sleep well, when you find it, my dear." And so the Nayland begins to stagger out of the camp.
Lucienne watches Rutger rise, tilting her head back and wobbling unsteady in her seat. She clears her throat as he bids her goodnight, but it is not until the Nayland has taken a few steps away from her that she finds the balls to utter one word: "Fuck." And boy, is that a frustrated sigh that escapes the intoxicated lady after.
