[ P ] the rocks beneath my feet begin to crack

back then, i was dauntless—

The taunting curl of his lips grows, and Senka's gaze drops to watch it before flicking back up to his eyes, offering no noteworthy reaction to his comment. A prickle of awareness tickles down the length of her spine, but she ignores it, giving Odysseus a flat expression. "That's inappropriate," she retorts firmly, thankful that he can't hear the way her heartrate increases. Clinging to her wits this time, Senka's mask is not so easily damaged tonight; the problem that will likely be her downfall, however, is that Odysseus has already chipped it. Apply pressure to the right spots, and she is liable to crumble.

"I'm tired," Senka declares, not bothering to wait for a response before she's pushing back from the table and walking away. She'd heard the young waiter just as clearly as Odysseus had, and needs no guidance to locate the stairwell and subsequent hallway—though she's certain that she'll hear him following after her. Other than the fact that he clearly likes baiting her, it's currently his job to stay close to her side.

All of Senka's stubborn bravado leaves the moment she pushes the door open. She stops dead in the doorway, every muscle in her body turning tense as she scans the painfully small room, the space filled mostly by the singular bed. "No," she says harshly, her jaw clenching. There isn't enough floorspace to demand he sleep there—or even to suffer it herself—and she doesn't trust him in such an intimate setting. "Seriously?" Senka snaps, finally turning her muzzle towards him to level him with an expectant glare that demands an explanation.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

Humor hangs from the corners of his upturned lips. She scolds him, calling him inappropriate. A shrug would lift broad shoulders. No shame or apology crossed his features. Odysseus might be very capable of playing the part of a gentleman, but nothing would ever tame the innuendo in his deep voice or the filthy words that made themselves at home on his tongue. She had no clue. Inappropriate didn't begin to cover it. But he wouldn't taunt her anymore, conceding for the evening as tiredness tugged at him.

When she announced that he was tired, only his eyes tracked her for a split second, following her as she rose from their table and headed to the room. Tossing back the last of his drink, he too would rise, trailing after her, in no real hurry. She couldn't and wouldn't get far.

Walking down the hallway, she reaches the room first, pushing open the door. But then she would freeze. He didn't have to wait long for her outrage. No. A dark lifted. "Please don't tell me its not nice enough for you." He said dryly becoming coming to her side. One look at their room though and he knew why she was upset. Turning towards him, she leveled him with a glare. A sigh would part his lips. "I didn't have a part in this if thats what you plan to accuse me of." Thankfully a staff member came walking towards them, sparing him from really upsetting her by laughing. Odysseus didn't share the same feelings about their predicament. "Boy, the lady wants her own bed." They should have had two beds to begin with, as he requested. Sorry sir, thats the last available room. The dark wolf managed to scrape together some grace to look displeased with the answer. "This isn't the room I requested." A growl would lace his tones.

Leave my staff alone, Odysseus. A melodic voice would appear behind him and the boy would take the opportunity to sneak away. "Perhaps they should do their jobs better." He answered before turning, a warm smile curling his dark lips. She stepped into his embrace with the familiarity of someone who had known him for years. A mans hands would slide across her skin like he already knew each curve, pulling her against his chest as he wrapped her in a hug. "I told you two beds." He chided. That would have her baby blue stare swinging towards Senka. I didn't think you were serious. She said with a small shrug looking at Odysseus once again. I'm Giselle. She would introduce herself to Senka, offering a small dip of her head.

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(This post was last modified: 12-04-2023, 01:06 PM by Odysseus.)

back then, i was dauntless—

Odysseus claims innocence for the situation, and Senka just stares at him with her lips pressed into a thin line. She hasn't figured him out enough yet to trust him, but she's pretty certain he hasn't lied to her. He's told plenty of half truths and evaded giving her answers, but she's of the opinion that the things he has said to her are at least mostly truthful. Despite his occasionally lewd commentary, she's inclined to believe that this was an accident, though the flustered response of a younger wolf stating that it's the last available room does little to settle her mood.

Before Senka can open her mouth to say a single word, a female interjects, making it quickly obvious that she is the owner of the tavern. If she hadn't already guessed this was Odysseus's friend, she would have by the way they embrace—as if each of them knows the other intimately. Senka has half a mind to tell him that he can go share a bed with this woman and leave her alone, but that would rather defeat the purpose of his job, so she bites her tongue. At least, until the woman levels her stare upon the Scowcroft and says she didn't think Odysseus was serious.

"He was," she states flatly, her expression closed off and not exactly welcoming. Propriety dictates she introduce herself in answer to Giselle, but Senka doesn't; this woman is a stranger, and Senka is valuable, not stupid. Instead, she simply lifts her chin and stares Giselle down in a manner not unlike the imperious judgement of her own mother. "Are you going to correct this mistake?" Senka asks with an arch of her brow; if she could have put her hands on her hips, she would have.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

Senkas displeasure rolled off her in waves, it was nearly palpable in the narrow hallway. When Giselle claimed that she hadn't believed him, his expression turned exasperated. "Giselle..." He started to say, but Senka would cut in, stating that he had been serious about the request. The noble beside him glared at the tavern owner, looking down her pretty nose. Giselle noticed too. The warmth would leave her features though it didn't stray from being polite. Like my staff said, its the last room I have for the night. Holding Senkas gaze for a moment longer, the two women seeming to face off.

They would reach a stalemate. He could see in the pursing of Giselles lips. She had nothing else to offer him and now she really wouldn't be making his life any easier, courtesy of Senka. I must get back to work. My deepest apologies And with that, she turned taking a few steps down the hall before looking back at Senka. He's a good cuddler. Her baby blues glittered with wicked humor.

For what it was worth, he did try to stifle his laugh. With nothing more to be done, Odysseus wordlessly turned back towards their room, stepping in the tiny space. He took up most of it, the room seemingly even smaller with him in it. An ear remained cocked towards Senka, anticipating her outrage, her outright refusal and whatever else she felt compelled to throw at him to let him know just how unhappy she was. It wouldn't stop him from reclining onto the bed, settling in amongst the cushion and linens. "I promise not to bite." He said with a tired, half smile, his voice teasing. Laying on his belly with hips tipped to the side, he arranged himself so that she had place beside him, though the room simply wasn't big enough for her to truly escape him.

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back then, i was dauntless—

Evidently, whatever relationship Odysseus has with Giselle guarantees him a place to stay, but the benefits end there. There will be no special treatment tonight—and though Senka is not so spoiled she wants the finest room in the building, she does want her own place to sleep. Apparently, that's too much to ask for. She's starting to regret this trip.

Gisella turns to leave, and Senka has all but dismissed her from memory when the other woman looks over her shoulder and comments on Odysseus's talent for cuddling. Senka's muzzle twitches, holding back the urge to curl her lip—but gods, she wants to flash her teeth at the bitch. Odysseus earns the subject of her ire with his snorted, half-stifled laugh, and her head swings around to level her glower back upon his retreating form.

Standing in the doorframe rigidly, Senka wants to cause a scene. She wants to blame her bitchy attitude on a spoiled upbringing; she wants to curse Odysseus for bringing her here. She wants to demand that they sleep in the damn woods, if only so that she can maintain a healthy distance from him.

Senka does none of those things.

She watches her companion settle himself as easily against the blankets as he had in August's chair, a snort escaping her at the taunt of his promise. "Chivalrous," she comments with a quirk of her brow, finally pushing off the doorframe begrudgingly and making her way into the room. The door snicks softly shut behind her, drowning out any sounds from beyond it, and Senka leaps nimbly onto the empty space in the bed, her delicate paws barely shifting the mattress.

Stubbornly, Senka refuses to look at him, and her ears are tipped back towards her skull as she circles once and then settles on her side—pointedly with her back towards Odysseus. In her effort to leave an appropriate distance between them, she is a bit too close to the wall for comfort, her legs tucked up close to her chest and belly, but she makes no complaint. In fact, she doesn't say a word at all. She's hoping that Odysseus will assume she's fallen asleep quickly, but Senka is far from sleeping.

She's wired, frustrated, and worried—and she lays there just staring quietly at the wall, counting the lines in the wood.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

When she finally does step into the room, its begrudging. "Sometimes." Many words could be used to describe Odysseus but chivalrous wasn't one of them. The door clicked shut behind her, plunging them into silence and dim lighting, only a few candles lit the small space. He watched, unashamed, as she made herself comfortable, circling in her spot before settling down. She hardly made a dent in the mattress. With her back to him, she was completely silent and still, but her breathing would give her away. Plus, no one falls asleep that fast.

She plastered herself as close to the wall as she could get, leaving her with no room to stretch her legs. Odysseus wouldn't hesitate to unfurl himself just a bit more, the movement making the mattress dip beneath his weight. His body curled towards her, maintaining whatever minimal space there was. His head would lower, resting across his forepaws, though he wouldn't sleep. Not yet.

Ears were torn between angling towards the door and the woman beside him. The room was small enough that no one would be entering unnoticed, just as no one could walk by with the gentle creaking of wood alerting him to their presence.

Tomorrow they would enter Yorkshire, an area that was even more heavily populated with Imperial soldiers. It would make for an even longer day. But that was the furthest thing from his mind. His business partners wife currently shared bed space with him. From the corner of his eye, he could just make out the tense curve of her back, her shoulders rigid. Even as tired as he was, there was still a secret thrill that raced up his spine. This close, every breath he drew in smelled of ocean spray and yarrow. Her perfume was invasive, searing his lungs and clouding his thoughts.

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back then, i was dauntless—

Senka is still in a way that is unnatural, ignoring the way Odysseus shifts behind her as if her life depends on it. She pretends not to notice him at all, her gaze locked on the worn wooden wall, but every inch of her is aware of his close proximity. Despite mostly respecting the space she'd put between them, Senka can feel the slow build of his warmth seeping into the air around her, like settling a blanket over her shoulders. A shiver ripples down her spine, mostly unnoticeable save for the slight shift of her fur over her skin.

Her mind flickers rapidly between what awaits her tomorrow and the way she gets a lungful of cinnamon every time she takes a breath. It's a sharp contrast to the sweet vanilla she is used to, but she finds it to be equally comforting, and inappropriately mesmerizing. Her toes curl where they're tucked against her breast, tangling in her fur in a desperate effort to keep him from recognizing how much his mere proximity effects her.

There's a familiar prickle of awareness at the nape of her neck, as though she's being watched. Something in Senka stirs whenever she looks at Odysseus and finds his intense stare already upon her; Augustine can be just as breath-stealing when he looks at her, but Senka doesn't think she's ever had his attention in such an undivided way. This past year, she's hardly had his attention at all, and the building loneliness is an ache that refuses to subside.

"Are you staring at me?" she finally asks into the quiet dark, though she doesn't move. She's certain she knows the answer already, but that selfish, greedy part of Senka's soul wants to hear him admit it. That same wretched part of her wants him to be watching her because he wants to, because he can't help himself—not because he's being paid to be here.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

Are you staring at me? Lips don't tip up in a signature smirk. Amethyst don't glitter with sinful mischief. But there is an intensity. Even shrouded in minimal light, his gaze is heated, suggesting that all she needed to do was ask. Her warmth slowly seeped into the bed, tantalizing as it crept his way. The soft sounds of her quick breaths filled the room, teasing his ears with each inhale and exhale. Odysseus doesn't answer her immediately nor does he move.

Thus far, their conversations had been nothing but her prying questions and his half truths. Except at dinner. He had given her an honest answer, one that she immediately scolded him for. It would always take more than a slap on the wrist to deter him.

When he does speak, his voice is rougher, deeper with a cocktail of sleepiness and sex. "Yes." The singular word hangs in the air between them. Suddenly, he itches to trace the curve of her back, from the slender column of her neck, passed her shoulders to her hips. With that thought, his stare would leave her face as he turned his head slightly to let his gaze trace that very path down her body.

His morals, or lack thereof, didn't have Augustine crossing his mind. Other than the fact that his wife was temptation. This trip was about getting her to her family, to see her dying father. But even that wasn't enough. Odysseus had always been just selfish enough to pursue what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. His entire life was wrapped up in danger, he didn't fret over a scorned husband.

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back then, i was dauntless—

Odysseus doesn't answer for a long time. He lays silent and still behind her, and the longer the quiet creeps on, the more she thinks that he isn't going to answer her at all. Her eyes are half lidded, unwilling to ask again, when his answer comes. "Yes." The tone of his voice has dropped an octave, and lacks the velvet softness he usually speaks with. A shiver runs the length of Senka's spine.

One word, and she feels practically undone.

She is deathly still, as though even a twitch of her ear might break her resolve—as though it might beckon him closer. That selfish thread of hers, though, it preens beneath the weight of his attention, basking in the warmth of his wandering eyes. Her heart is thrumming, and she can feel her pulse throbbing in the column of her throat, a strange mix of anxiety and forbidden desire.

Senka should really learn when to leave well enough alone. She's certain that if she ignores him for the rest of the night, that Odysseus will do nothing more than stare. The problem is, she isn't certain that she wants him to do nothing. Fates, what is wrong with her? She tells herself to let it go, to let the silence build, to let morning creep up on them. She tells herself to keep her fucking mouth shut.

She doesn't.

"Do you still think I'm an asset?"

It's whisper-soft, little more than a breath, but there's no hiding her question in the lingering dark. And she knows, too, that those hadn't been his exact words, but that gluttonous thread of her heart is only too willing to twist what he'd meant when he first said them. She wants him to tell her more words like that, to cater to the neglected parts of her that grasp desperately at any possibility of a compliment, of admiration, of adoration that's been slipping through her fingers like sand for the better part of a year.

Senka wants everything that she can't have.

—i'd burn so bright it blinded

code // art

my demons come to play

The air around her is tense. Greedily, he wants to reach out and shatter it. Shamelessly, he wants to press his nose to the curve of her throat. Selfishly, he wants to slide that ring off her finger. But he remains still. Tension lines his shoulder, despite the way he comfortably laid. In the confines of their room, he couldn’t escape any part of her. Her body heat, her perfume, even her voice. It may not show on his face, but his thoughts raced with all sorts of sin. He dragged in steady breaths, remaining just as muted. Senka so much as hardly breathes following his confession, his gaze still upon her, as if her movements might have some rippling effects. When she does end her silence, her voice is so soft, the faintest of murmurs that he didn’t have to strain to hear in the quiet.

Do you still think I’m an asset?

Inky lips tipped up in a sleepy, half smile. She twisted his words. He had spoken of her potential, but here she was stating it as fact in her question. It dawned on him then. She was fishing for a compliment. The gears of his mind turned, putting the pieces together. “I still think you could be.” How desperate was she for attention that she'd seek it anywhere? Desperation often made wolves do questionable things. It wasn't a complete surprise though, she was after all a politicians wife. She would always play second fiddle to her husbands work.

That tidbit of knowledge had his head lifting and his mass shifting towards her. With some semblance of self control, he still didn't touch her, if only just barely. All she had to do was move. His heart beat steadily against his ribs, though his skin was hyperaware of just how close she was. Odysseus leaned partially over her, a quick puff of air blowing out one of the candles. He was just respectful enough, he toed with line with bold disregard while never laying a hand on her. The room would darken, leaving one more lonely candle flickering by the door, offering barely enough light. His movements were slow, deliberate as he lingered half a breath longer before reclining back into his spot.

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