Completed The Absence of Mercy and Empathy

[Leander Urahil]

It’s not that Leander felt sorry for the elves. They were Brotherhood sympathizers. They wanted to hurt Vel Anir. If they had the chance he’d imagine they would do the same as they were doing. Killing a whole village was a statement, one that needed to be made. Any who dared to challenge Vel Anir deserved to be slaughtered.

Maybe that was the real reason why he had been chosen, because of his heritage. Urahils were not spymasters or enforcers like some of the other Great Houses, instead they had been Knights. Those Knights had used their status, that singular idea of chivalry and honor and goodness, to inflict the necessary horrors to secure Vel Anir’s future.

But this was a baby. Innocent. Just born. It hadn’t yet sinned, hadn’t yet lifted it’s fist— not even it’s viridian eyes!— upon Vel Anir. And it was blonde, like him. The hair, so fair it was white like Odessa’s… if it weren’t for the pointy ears he could call it a descendent of his own blood.

“A baby is worth zero points.” Leander said, coming over to her and standing behind her. He nullified the room because as he put his hand on Sol’s shoulder he didn’t want her to use her sand form to slip between his fingers. He pulled her easily away from the bed, even if she were much heavier now, and pushed her off to the side.

He set his parrying dagger, still being held in one hand, onto the bed.

Leander looked at the newborn they had fought against Sol. How long had it been fighting her? It’s mother was still alive and when Leander looked at her, all he could think was this: the seething, copulating virus of elvenkind, refusing to stop, even in the face of their lengthy lifespans and magic potential; and perhaps even fucking more furiously because of it.

He picked up the baby, looking at it’s red face. He turned and put it on the hard, cold, wooden floor, away from the blood of the female lying dead. His touch was gentle, movements slow. He turned and looked at Soleil. He didn’t stop his nullifying dome. Leander took a step back and gestured from Soleil to the elf that, if somehow able to survive this, would one day seek revenge upon Vel Anir.

Leander wouldn’t be able to write this in his autobiography. He would have to omit it out if the Republic was still in place when he became the youngest Archon ever. Yet he had to do it, he knew he had to as if it was a command in his veins. Just like the Urahils before him.

“Now try.” Leander said, far worse the monster than Soleil herself was.

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Leander's nullification hit and Soleil shivered harshly, not entirely unlike an Initiate tasting the crackling sparks of lightning magic in a duel with Vance tasting the sparks of his lightning magic. Her grip on the baby's neck helplessly slid away, and she fidgeted and convulsed for a few seconds more as her imitation body, that which was the human representation of her Sandform, reverted back into a body made entirely of flesh and blood. Immediately, as always in her normal body, she was struck by nausea, by disorientation, as if her bones, deep in withdrawal, were craving some drug and she as well had been made dizzy at the same time.

Delayed, for by this time Leander had pulled her back and was moving the baby to the floor, but Soleil nevertheless said in response to the assertion of the baby's value, "Elf is e-elf."

Her speech would resemble Zinnia's to a degree, stuttering, at least in the first few moments of having been forced out of her usual Sandform.

Now try.

The hard floor. Her solid hands. In that second, Soleil understood.

She looked at her hands. Flexed them slowly into fists. Relaxed and released. Even though she was debilitated by that feeling of withdrawal and nausea, she could feel the raw strength in them (that of a normal human girl her age, but even this was more than what she was used to).

Soleil grinned at Leander. "Smart move. Heavy hands? B-Better." She flicked her eyes to Eldawyn, lying helplessly in the bed, watching in utter dismay, torment, and fright. "All yours," she said.

She then kneeled down on the floor. Slipped her hands back around the baby's neck.

And felt what it was like to take a life with hands made of true flesh.

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

Leander looked away from Sol as she kneeled on the floor. He tried to block out the sounds of a infant choking but they seemed amplified as he picked up his knife and looked towards the elf still laying in the bed.

“I’ll make it quick.” Leander said out loud, not quite realizing it until her eyes registered what he was saying in common. He leaned over the woman, a hand twisting in her hair and pulling her head back. Their eyes met and in that moment he saw not just fear but a plea. The beseeching look was like a split-second of shared telepathy.

He knew in that moment she was praying for him to switch places with Soleil. A second later her eyes held a glassy look to them, the light dimming. Leander kept his face unflappable and stern, mimicking Amell’s expression although he had yet to realize it.

Leander wiped the blood on the already stained sheets. The smell of sweat and blood and whatever disgusting fluid came from between this elf’s legs— he was almost certain he could smell piss and shit in the sheets— was beginning to irritate him.

“Hurry it up.” Leander barked at Soleil and left the room, descending down the stairs. Even when he was outside the smell still seemed to linger as if it were now a part of him, an indelible perfume of cruelty.

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Some time passed.

And then Soleil descended down that outside walkway of the Central Tree. Her Sandform had returned from the absence of Leander and his nullification magic—not that one could tell unless they touched her or tried to shove a blade through her. She disappeared briefly into the ground level temple of the Central Tree, and a moment later emerged from the open doors. She walked up to Leander.

The silence and stillness of Alyr'Sylina did not bother her; nor, she suspected, Leander.

"All done," she said, this with her usual chirpy tone and a hint of pride, as if she were but a normal girl, living a normal life in Vel Yuna, announcing to her mother or her father that her chores were dutifully finished.

She surveyed some of their combined work littering the pathways of the little elven village. Smiled up at Leander.

"You? Good killer. But me? Better."

She raked her teeth along her bottom lip in excitement.

"Count of three. Us? Both say kill total. Ready?"

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

“You needed help killing a baby.” Leander retorted, giving Soleil quite the look that didn’t hide his arrogance. Urahils killing elves was akin to Pirians making snickerdoodle cookies. Felix had once called it pest control and for once Leander agreed with his brother.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the Urahil grinned. Here it was, the first victory of the day. He was going to get a fun hourglass to show off at the Academy.

“Ready.” There was that pause, both of them looking at each other. Leander’s cheeks were beginning to hurt and then once he saw Sol’s mouth open, so did his.

“THIRTY-THREE!”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Right as Leander gave his total, so did Soleil, their voices overlapping, and an onlooker might've had trouble in discerning which of them was the more eager and excited.

"Sixty-nine!" And then after a second, smiling grandly all the while because she knew she had won, she added with a slight touch of grandiose ego (which Leander himself might've even found a cozy familiarity with), "Not including baby."

Her smile only got bigger—especially when fissures in her flesh sliced open at the corners of her lips and for an ephemeral moment made it seem that her mouth, her smile, had doubled in size.

"Your room. Let's go."

And then she trilled her tongue, this with a higher pitch than normal.

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

Perhaps if he had considered his own number he would have had the sense to lie a little. He could have, he realized too late, added another ten to his score. Not because it would have beat Soleil’s score but because it wouldn’t have made him look like such a loser. The smug look quickly turned harsh and stern. With his lips pressed tightly together he glowered at her with his pale eyes.

“I think you just like that number.” All girls did and it was a trap that Leander had learned the hard way not to fall into. Especially with Ysobel; what a mess that was.

He gave himself a moment to cool off. Being a loser was bad but being a sore loser was worse. He wasn’t going to let Soleil have the satisfaction of seeing him throw a tantrum. At least she wasn’t gloating. He could keep his cool as long as she didn’t do that.

“Yeah. My room.” Leander sighed and shook his head. When he went to push his blonde bangs off from his forehead, he saw that his gauntlet was covered in blood that was drying. He removed it and then brushed his bangs back. When he brought his hand back down it was stained red.

“The faster we get back the faster I can take a bath.”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

As it had been with the way in which Lumen closed her Friendsgiving invitations, that being with xoxo, Soleil likewise didn't get what the special significance was the number sixty-nine, and if Leander had given voice to his thoughts ("all girls did") it would have served only to confuse her further.

Regardless, she was far more attentive to Leander's closing remark.

"Bath? Gross. Awful. Why."

Soleil had been taken to the communal showers in the Academy precisely once, and she had screamed like a banshee and went hurtling out the doors the second the water was released from above and touched her imitation skin. It actually took the efforts of a few Proctors to finally catch her, dry her off, clothe her, and force her to speak on what the fuck happened. After a rigorous series of experimental tests over the next couple of months that essentially just became a parade of torture, it was determined that her Sandform's flaw could not be ameliorated. She didn't have to go to the showers anymore, but, unfortunately, she from there on out had to be on her best behavior, now that the whole proctorial staff knew the most effective way to torture her.

Aside from that, it was easy to clean herself. Just shift out of her imitation body, into a cloud of loose sand, and then back into it. For other people, not so easy, objectively she was able to recognize this. They had to use water. Or else they ended up like Bull. Bull sweat much, and he liked to skip baths and showers post-Revolution. Soleil, meanwhile, always smelled like a beach and there wasn't anything she could really do about it.

"Do that first. Me? Patient."

* * * * *

THE ACADEMY DORMITORIES​

Soleil and Leander reported mission success back at the Academy—this, of course, behind closed doors with the two Proctors who had recruited them. Alyr'Sylina destroyed. All enemies dead. The two Proctors offered light and sparing words of praise (and this, for Academy standards, was astounding), counseled them that the mission was a state secret and to keep their fucking mouths shut about it, and then released them. The remainder of the day for them was free.

And Soleil, as patient as she had said, stood beside the door to Leander's room, waiting for him to conclude his business with water and return. In the meantime, she mused on the number sixty-nine. Hmm...divisible by three and twenty-three (leaving out the obvious one and sixty-nine)...but that was it. Nothing special. Strange.

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

Leander was thankful that Sol hadn’t told the proctors about their bet. He was thankful that she hadn’t declared herself to be the victor of it. He was thankful that it seemed Soleil, for all her quirks, had a good head on her shoulders. Or maybe it was just the way she spoke that prevented her from embarrassing him. Leander would, for the first in a long time, assume it was the former. After all, pissing him off too much wasn’t a smart idea.

Immediately after they had been released, Leander had quickly gone to his room to grab a fresh pair of clothes (a luxury that only the wealthy initiates had), grabbing a small coin pouch to hide in a pocket, and a towel . He even had soap, another luxury, although he knew plenty of initiates, especially the girls, had their own methods in making soap by hoarding or selling citrus peels from the kitchens and then adding coffee grounds or salt with honey. He only knew that much because of Willow, not because he had ever considered it.

The time he took to clean himself off was brief enough to not get him in trouble but long enough so he could think of what Soleil would want from his room. He was out of money for the rest of the month but that would be fine. His early years here he had learned to be frugal. If he really needed coin he was sure he could trade something of value for coin at the Academy.

Leander even took time in heading back to the dormitories. His hair was damp and flat against his head, looking like more like muddy waters than pure sunshine. Sol was already waiting for him.

“You’re here. Great.” That meant he didn’t have any more time to try and hide something of more importance on his being. He opened the door, stepping inside first so he could hold the door open for Soleil. “Well, come inside.”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Soleil had her fingers interlaced behind her back, and with such a carefree posture she went sauntering into Leander's room, kicking her legs forward one at a time until at her languid pace she arrived at the center of his dorm.

She took a low and subtle sniff of the room. Wasn't the first time she'd been inside of a boy's room, and this one she didn't even need to infiltrate. The smells were always so...different to a girl's room. But this was just a curious little detail, neither here nor there, because this was about business.

Soleil glanced about. There was that cloak; while useful, cloaks of all kinds could be easily acquired. Not a bad choice. The chatelaine was likely kept away, under his bed or in a drawer, but that was useless, because it was equivalent to money, and money was less desirable than even a common cloak. She could pull some kind of prank, take all of Leander's underwear, for example, but that would not confer onto her any advantage or bring her much satisfaction.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, then pointed to one particular item.

"What's that?"

Soleil had absolutely no intentional of taking said item. She just wanted to get Leander talking.

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

After she had entered he had locked the door with the makeshift lock all initiates learned to make, for their doors were designed to only be locked and unlocked from the outside. It wasn’t a strong lock but it was just enough for an initiate to hide something quickly if a proctor decided to check in on them. It didn’t happen too much after the Revolution though, now the proctors knocked first.

His room was neat, bed made and desk clear of clutter. He had both a chest at the foot of his bed and a set of drawers. Leander had made adjustments to the room, instead of having shelves, he had a series of hooks scattered all about his walls. He also had a family portrait, outdated as Leander was no longer a infant and his mother was no longer alive.

“The Evil Eye,” Leander said, going over to where it hung from a hook over his bed. “My sister got it for me from a island she had traveled to. It protects you from evil intentions.” He brought it down to Sol’s eye level, letting her see close up the four concentric circles in the shape of an eye with a ring of blue, white, black and gold in the center. It was made out of ceramic and hung from a simple chain.

“Is this what you want?”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Just the question she was counting on him asking.

"No."

Just so she could have the satisfaction of denying it, getting him a little off guard maybe as he focused on the "Evil Eye" instead of her, and then slide in her real answer.

Soleil lifted a hand and with two fingers to Leander's wrist gently coaxed his hand and the artifact it held aside. She was looking up at him, her gaze no more intense than on any other occasion, her smile just the same.

"Want you."

And just as she had with Corvus Azura, Soleil displayed a similarly complete disregard for normal boundaries here to make her laconic answer perfectly clear; with her other hand she suddenly grabbed Leander's nethers, held his manhood in her palm, and though her grasp was by no means strong its abruptness likely had some effect.

"You? Handsome. Tall. Strong. Good killer. Desirable. Many girls crave. But many girls lie."

Here she flashed teeth in a little grin.

"I don't lie," she boldfaced lied.

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

He had never had a girl grab him so squarely before and look him in the eye while doing it. Leander looked down at Soleil, both brows raised in confusion. It’s not that it was unpleasant, having her hand there. What was unpleasant, or rather, embarrassing, was how quickly his body reacted to it. If he had known Soleil had any notion of doing this he would have rubbed one out, even if the proctors forbade it because of plumbing issues or whatever. Leander felt like he was back at fifteen when looking at drywall could turn him on.

Sometimes it still did. He was a young man and sex didn’t come handed to him on a silver platter at the Academy. While Leander could brag more than any of the other guys in his class about bedding whoever he wanted, there was one caveat to his claims. One night stands were few and far inbetween and that was because most of the girls here at the Academy were crazy killers. And those who weren’t?

It was a process. A horrible, never ending process of finding a girl interested in him, fawning over her like she was all that and a cup of Obanese wine, ignoring other flirtations, unable to join in on brothel runs (which Leander had lost the appeal of after his first experience but that was a story for another time), protecting them, buying them things, pretending to be thoughtful and having to listen to them go on and on and on about stupid little things. It was absolutely exhausting.

And sometimes, even after doing all that, he didn’t even get his dick wet. Then when it came time to breaking things off… well, it was those times when Leander appreciated his nullification magic most.

Leander had created a yes-no flowchart to be his cheat sheet in discovering which girls were easier to bed and which were high-near impossible. Soleil, if Leander was using his flowchart, would have have placed her on the end of being inaccessible.

“You want to have sex with me?” Leander asked, still not quite believing this, expecting Soleil to trill her tongue or pop her lips before she said something that would end up turning him into a joke.

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

"Yes," Soleil said, this somehow completely unequivocal despite her chirpy tone. Though her tone, her airy and carefree smile, could have potentially led one to think to the contrary, her invasive hand and, perhaps even more so than that, the now ferociously hungry look in her eyes, its rising intensity, utterly crushed any and all of that contrarian potential.

"Today? Birthday. Birthday sex always good. Even if birthday not yours."

She raked her teeth in a fiendish slice across her bottom lip.

"You agree."

Her grasping fingers flexed just a touch tighter.

"Can feel it."

Her eyes were twin desert suns, scorching all they beheld, relentless.

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

“Happy birthday.” Leander said stiffly. He waited a moment. Shit, she was serious wasn’t she? Her hand hadn’t moved, instead she seemed to grip him tighter. There were a few things that came to his mind about this situation when Leander pushed away the overwhelming thought that her hand felt good. The first was that he had seen Soleil plenty of times disperse into sand. The second was that he had seen Soleil plenty of times separate parts of her body and let them float around in midair. The third was that Soleil was made of sign.

So while Leander was eager, as Soleil had just pointed out, he had to ask two things in particular. The gift he still held in his hand by his sister was discard and his hand was placed on top of Soleil’s head. Normally he wouldn’t ever ask these questions, they hadn’t ever been important before now.

“Have you had sex before?” There was a hint of doubt, not because Soleil wasn’t attractive, on the contrary, she was exactly Leander’s type as she was slender with a slight build. It reminded him of how his mother was although Sol didn’t have that impressive height. “Can you even do it?” If she detached her legs or head in the middle of their coitus he wasn’t sure how he’d respond.

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

"Yes," her answer this time was spoken exactly the same as the last time, nothing about her current demeanor diminished or changed in the slightest...yet.

But now her voice actually lowered.

"Can do it..."

Here the consistency of her head, her imitation skull, became softer, softer, looser...until Leander's very hand began to descend down through it as though it were no more solid than (ironically) water. His wrist seemed to part her forehead, the space between her eyes, her nose, her mouth, all this until either he pulled back or his hand slipped completely through. In the end her face reformed easily and effortlessly, again, not unlike water, the surface of a lake coming back to its placid shape after a hand had lightly trailed across its surface.

"...in Sandform."

She squeezed, rubbed even, with her grasping hand, with what strength she could muster. It wasn't much, but her hand there was much more solid and defined than her head had just been. Certainly this was enough to drive home the point.

"Or not in Sandform."

She went on to explain: "Done both. Each once. Sandform? Painful. For you. Fine for me. But with cuffs, body. Partner okay. Enjoyed." She almost seemed a little disappointed by it. But this disappointment, if it was there, was immediately wiped away by: "But me? Better than fine. Things happen. New things; Sandform incapable. Much pleasure! Shivering. Shaking. Very nice. Want more of this. Crave more of this.

"And you?"

She made a popping sound with her lips, and then returned that smile...which now shared the same hunger as her eyes.

"Don't need cuffs."

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

Leander took a deep breath. There was a sick part of him that was curious about doing it with Soleil in her sand form. He imagined it felt like that time he had to climb over a wall naked and had accidentally scraped the more sensitive and softest part of his nether regions against the stone. He had fallen over the wall and couldn’t get up for a time. It was only when he heard the husband of the woman Leander had tried hooking up with that he had found the strength to get up and move.

The exhale was long and slow. Against his better judgement, Leander activated his magic. All magic became null and void in his room and perhaps even outside of it. He remembered how Soleil needed to readjust, and in a act that was not kindness but lust, Leander bent down to pick her up. One hand went underneath her legs, the other supported her slight back. Leander held Soleil close to his chest. He could feel her shoulder blades. She still felt light.

As if the bones in her body were hollow, like a bird. All at once she was fragile and yet still completely alluring with those large amber eyes. It reminded him of the stone inlaid on his mother’s chatelaine.

Leander sat down on his bed, setting Soleil on his lap, positioning her so her slender back with those delicate bones could rest against his broad chest. The arm that had once been underneath the crook of her knees came out from under them. One hand was free to roam and it sought nothing more than the juncture between her legs underneath her dress. Leander hesitated once more, fingers grazing against her inner thigh but not going any further.

“One last chance. You can say no,” he lowered his head, jaw pressing against Soleil’s cheek. “Or you can tell me you want it.”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

It was never particularly a pleasant feeling, the loss of her Sandform, that which she had become so very much accustomed to. Her normal body, which lay beneath the constant transformative veil of her magic, just felt partially alien to her now. It was both hers and not. Yet, even so, there were things her normal body was useful for, things her imitation body, owing to its imperfections and flaws and occasional malfunctions, could not do. Could not experience to the fullest.

This was one of them. Chief among them, in truth.

Soleil felt that initial weakness, that disorientation, that dizziness, come jolting into her body as it morphed from sand and mimicry to a real girl's flesh and blood form. Leander's uncharacteristic tenderness in holding her, cradling her, supporting her as he sat down on the bed and her transformation, with all its little convulsions and fidgeting, was completing its cycle, this she might have appreciated tremendously if she were able, if she were of sounder mind, if she were not born with the mental conditions she had. But this wasn't about love at all, even if that were not the case.

What pervaded in this room was lust, nothing more and nothing less.

Soleil shivered with greedy anticipation as Leander's hand went wandering. Her hands, now with a warmth all their own, she pressed atop Leander's, hiding under her dress as it was, to show her eagerness, to encourage his hand's exploration.

His jaw touched her cheek, and she turned her head and kissed what portion of his lips she could reach.

"Want it," she said, her breath, warm and humid, almost caressing her whispered words into Leander's flesh. She kissed him some more. "Give it to me." More, and more, and more. "Or I take."

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

Leander hadn’t planned on kissing her on the lips. Girls always just wanted to kiss and nothing else, even if Leander spent hours upon hours in doing what they wanted. But it was Soleil’s birthday and she wanted much more than a kiss. He could oblige in her desires for today and so he turned his head and kissed her back with unfiltered hedonistic hunger.

He was surprised that her lips were soft and warm like the flesh beneath his fingers as he moved his hand to the prize with Soleil’s permission secured. His other hand roved down her back until it was on her hip, pulling her dress up. When his hand gripped the outside of her thigh it displayed all the strength he had in his body as if he sought to bruise her.

She felt good on his lap. She felt good against his fingers. Even the kiss felt good and therefore Leander could think of nothing else but this physical goodness. Academy girls like her were dangerous. Soleil wouldn’t have to take anything. Leander was more than happy to give it all to her in this moment.

---

His room smelled. Leander, despite his stamina, was glistening with sweat. He got up from the bed and went to open the small window. The fresh air was cool against his damp skin. He placed his hands on the windowsill and leaned forward, taking a deep breath. As he exhaled, he dispelled the nullifying dome.

He had a start of a headache beginning to needle at the base of his skull. His muscles felt tight in certain places. More importantly, however, he wanted to go to sleep. Finally, he turned towards Soleil, centering his pale gaze on her.

“You’re going to have to keep your mouth shut about this. I’m technically with Natasha right now. Sorta. It’s complicated.” He shrugged but couldn’t help the grin that came through. Because he was young and prideful, he had to ask, unable to keep the question behind his white teeth. “So how was it? I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Soleil was laying face down in the pillow, tiny little shivers and twitches, delightful aftershocks of carnal ecstasy, all of this preceding the usual fidgets that accompanied her transformation back into her imitation body. Her magic came rushing back to her like the winds of a sandstorm through a gorge, and all her flesh, her blood, all of it became Sand once more and only a mimicry of what it once was. To the naked eye observing her naked body, it would appear as though nothing had changed...save that all of the sweat that had been coating her body and somehow disappeared: it had fallen through during her transformation, joining much of Leander's own in his bedsheets.

Soleil dragged her face over to one side when Leander began to speak. Her face, before buried deeply in the pillow after the exhaustive session and its intense climax, was then revealed. Eyes half-lidded, heavily laden with satisfaction; a smile, quite lax from her lack of energy, pleased.

But she sat up slowly in the bed. Swung her legs over the edge leisurely. Her dress and jacket, all its seemingly normal black cloth and other constituent parts, broke apart all at once and became sand, their grains marching like myriad legions of ants on the warpath, her garments reassembling themselves upon her. In a matter of seconds, without lifting a finger, she was clothed again.

"Say nothing? Easy."

Less for Leander's sake, and more for her own. Soleil loved knowing things that other people didn't know, dealing in the exchange of truths and lies, controlling the perceptions of others. Aside from the usual stroking of her own ego, she had her more base reasons for keeping Leander appeased.

And his question touched directly on those base reasons.

"Only some. But hurt? Smothered by pleasure. Felt good. Very good. You? Good killer. Also good lover."

Love didn't have anything to do with it, and those talon marks across Leander's back one might think came from a brawl with a panther rather than from Soleil's nails. Love was just the word that fit the action.

Soleil stood. Walked to him. Poked his arm with her pointer finger.

"Natasha? If poor lover? You want, she doesn't give? Find me. We do this again." Poke. "And again." Poke. "And again."

Her tired smile gained some vitality.

"When birthday?"

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

The grin only grew and Leander centered his full attention on Soleil completely. He enjoyed the compliments, not once thinking that Soleil was lying in the slightest. Why would he have any doubts? Regardless of what her face looked like now, which was a face that made him feel like he did truly earn the praise, there was also his memories and own feelings when he paid attention to Soleil.

Her offer wasn’t one he could refuse. It was tempting not just for the exchange of mutual pleasure or for the fact that Soleil, unlike many girls he had been with, didn’t complain or lay there. It was tempting because Leander could tell exactly what she was offering him: no strings attached, initiates with benefits.

Leander looked up at the ceiling in thought. When he did look back down at Soleil he made sure to match her smile. It was undeniable that there was something off about her. He couldn’t even say what it was, it was more than just her unique speech patterns, he knew that much, but that was all that he knew. Maybe it was thing with the baby?

But for whatever was “wrong” with Soleil, there was something incredibly magnetic about her as well. And it was this magnetism, whether strictly just being his insatiable sex drive belonging to a young man or something more platonic, that had Leander make his decision.

“Could say the same about you. Good lover and killer.” He wasn’t making fun of the way she spoke. He was glad she had won the bet, it was the first time that losing had felt like winning. He was about to tell her that if she waited a hour and a sandwich or two later, he could easily go again, that he wanted to go again and try more things with her. He wondered if he could convince her to let him try putting it in— he needed to focus.

“Two months from now. On the second.” Leander said, then raised a brow. “Why?”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Soleil felt she didn't need to be so aggressive this time in making her point clear. Instead of a bold, southward hand crushing any room for doubt, all she did was reach up her pointer finger and gently swiped it along the firm edge of Leander's alluring chin.

"You know why."

Then she smirked. Suggestion was one thing, but, much in the spirit of how this coupling had come to be in the first place, Soleil said further:

"Us? Bet. Natasha? On your birthday? Gives you sex? Hourglass for me. Whole week. But Natasha? If not? You. Belong to me. Whole week."

That grin reemerged with rapacious force.

"Ride you as I please."

Leander Urahil

 

[Leander Urahil]

“Deal.” He had never agreed to anything faster in his life. Regardless of the stipulations of their bet, Leander only saw it as benefitting him whether he won or lost. This was the power women had over men, wasn’t it? Felix and Amoux had once said something about it before, but Leander had been too young to understand the implications.

He didn’t care much about Natasha’s feelings in this matter. Even if the dark haired beauty did give it up, Leander thought of the possibilities of having Soleil become his hourglass. He planned on using her that week and not a single idea was about measuring time.

His hands moved all on their own, going to Soleil’s shoulders to pull her against him— far too light, and he remembered then how his hand had just pressed down into her head. With more care, he bent down, picking up Soleil, if she let him as she could easily disperse through his fingers. He was still naked, the sweat had dried now, and the window was still open.

“You could ride me now. Unless I already tired you out?”

Soleil Verdane

 

[Soleil Verdane]

Soleil allowed for herself to be scooped up. More than allowed for it, actually. Desired it. They had been granted the remainder of the day free from training and classes by the two Proctors, hadn't they? They didn't need to be anywhere, and no one would come looking for them. There was no better time to satiate her lustful impulses than now.

And Leander was more than willing. Unlike some others she could name. No need to risk taking it, devising schemes for the purpose, when it was being given.

This was a profitable arrangement.

Much like with Kor, Soleil had a preference for Leander now. If the Proctors had chosen poorly? Put on the mission to Alyr'Sylina some Initiate who, in the wake of the Revolution, had become a lesser Dreadlord? Annoying. But Leander lived the promise of Vel Anir, strived for the perfection of war just like Soleil did. He cared nothing for the opinions and emotions of others, and this was attractive. Charon was a good number one while he lived. But now he was dead; friends come, friends go. Leander was now firmly inserting himself into that spot.

In a couple different ways.

A rush of eagerness permeated her inner thighs, an anticipation whose herald was the arousing tingling thereabouts. Her dress and her jacket simply dissolved, falling away from her body in a cascade of loose sand, neatly unclothing her for the next round.

"Tired is for morning," she said.

And they had plenty of time until then.

Leander Urahil