Private Tales The Fall

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"When you reduce everything I do to such small and petty words you make me sound like some form of common criminal," he purred.

Raziel crouched down, tail swishing back and forth behind him as if he was a predator preparing to pounce.

"Though there is little need for the modesty, everything looks well proportioned from up here."

It seemed he was not out of ways to rile her up just yet.
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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"That's exactly what you are." she answered back through gritted teeth. She was letting him get to her, that much was obvious, but she thought of what she must look like, sitting there on the rock, arms around her as she shook with cold, trying to cover herself as though she were cowering. She was not cowering.

Fuck you, she thought to herself with a scowl at him, and she let her arms fall to her sides as she stood up, her chin lifted and shoulders squared as she drew in a cold breath and let it out in a sharp huff before picking up her shirt to pull back on.
 
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Dissapointingly brave. Or was it intriguing. Raziel couldn't decide just yet. His smirk wasn't washed away by her actions either.

"You probably should let that dry first," he remarked. He pointed with her tail, simply because her knew the appendage irritated her.

"It's not exactly doing anything for you right now." The transparent fabric did little more than change the shade of her olive skin.

"Still, I suppose we can get you indoors in front of a fire with a nice bath sooner."
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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Her jaw clenched so hard she feared her teeth might breath. She glared stubbornly for a moment before turning to wade back through the shallows to the grassy verge without another word to him.

Gods she was freezing, and there was only so much she could do to hide it. She pulled the blanket from Epione's back and the horse shuddered as she pulled the blanket around herself instead, her shoulders rising to her ears as she shivered.

A fire and a bath did sound appealing, but she wanted to be alone, she wanted him to be as far from her as possible. Perhaps the town might have a strong enough guard that she might tear off from him there, have him thrown in a cell even. She'd been waiting for a chance to run, and it seemed this town would provide her with that precise opportunity.
 
  • Devil
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She had recovered her sensibilities and thar made her boring. Raziel slipped down the rock, but made sure to walk around on her side of it before padding back off towards his drying clothes.

He cast her a sidelong glance with a wicked smile. His tail flicked out, just in case it caused her to wince again.



"Board for two horses, two rooms and...is that a stew you have on?"

A silence had followed Raziel into the Inn. Two things struck the people inside. First of all a tiefling was a rare thing to see on the road. Secondly a tiefling travelling with an unmarried woman alone was somewhat scandalous.

Raziel dropped several coins onto the bar. "I'm afraid I am too tired to entertain tonight, but she could do with a bit bath in her room I'd you could see to that."

Travelling entertainers. The hubbub returned. Raziel had diffused Feyre's insult already. There was also a sense that musicians and travelling entertainers were their own queer folk who didn't need to conform to the norms of society.
 
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She'd half expected him to ask for one room just to be difficult, and she'd been ready to argue. She cast her golden gaze across the inn, the skin on the back of her neck tingling with the cold glare of so many studious eyes. She realised how anxious people made her, now that even her father's own men had turned against her, now that she knew how untrustworthy the world was. In her mind she had considered waltzing in, proclaiming her name and house and requesting some citizen's arrest on the tiefling. Instead Feyre swallowed her name in the paranoia that they'd turn her over instead.

She stepped up beside Raziel and looked to the innkeeper as the babel resumed and eyes returned to their own company. "Ink and parchment too, if you will. Might I find a messenger in town?.." her brow quirked, and the man assured that he would arrange it.

"Thank you.." she nodded to him and drew her eyes over her fellow entertainer with a slight sneer before making her way to a table to wait on her room.
 
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It was the tricky part now, Raziel thought to himself. The point where he had to ensure the letter didn't lead to assassins coming in the night rather than Feyre being accepted into her extended family after the disaster.

Raziel joined her at the table with two wooden mugs of red wine.

"They will bring some stew over," he said, "And one of the girls has been sent carrying buckets of warm water up."

He took a long swig of wine. He was tired, in pain and in uncomfortably damp clothing but a fire and wine was quite the welcome reprieve.

"You think I might get a small reward for delivering you safely from the city?" he mused.
 
"Safely.." she muttered at his question. "Safely would suggest unharmed, and not mentally fucking scarred." she rolled her eyes at him and pulled a cup of wine toward her to drink greedily as she soaked in the heat of the hearth.

"It's not my business to tell the Baron what to do with his coin. If he sees fit to reward you then I'm sure he will. If not.." her shoulder shrugged lazily. "Frankly I don't care. I'd simply like to put as much distance between us as possible until I can forget all about you." her nose wrinkled, and she drank down the rest of the wine before catching the eye of the bar wench who swiftly refilled her cup.
 
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"Oh I'm far too interesting to forget quickly," he replied. "And I have been thinking about the pact I made with you."

Raziel cast a glance around them. Being a tiefling was one thing, but openly discussing magic - particularly blood magic - was quite another.

"I did promise that I would deliver you to him and the consequences of not doing that are going to be quite...unpleasant. Not that you care, but I may have to be entirely certain you're being delivered safely."

He had specifically avoided the word safely in his pact, but right not he was simply being manipulative. It might have been for a good cause, and leading her to a life as a political pawn but that was better than the noose.
 
Feyre let out a huff of feigned amusement. "Oh I plan on working particularly hard to ensure that I forget every little thing about you." she told him over the rim of her cup and drew in another long drink of wine without taking her eyes off of him. They narrowed, and she regretted ever being stupid enough to make any sort of pact with a blood mage.

"I will be writing to the Baron to request an escort. From then on I don't care whether you follow me back to the estate or not, but I'm not leaving this inn alone with you." she frowned. The wench cast a dubious look over them both as she set down two bowls of stew and a plate of bread.

She smiled gratefully as the woman topped up her wine again before leaving.

"Clearly she thinks I need it..." she smirked and wasted no time in eating the meal..
 
Something in her tone finally managed to break his light amusement at her predicament. The very idea that she could erase him - so much more fascinating and powerful than every aspect of her mundane little existence - from her mind was genuinely offensive.

Raziel's smile remained impassive, but something much darker coiled and twisted deeper inside him. He watched her closely over the lip of his mug. There wasn't much time to leave an even greater impression upon her, but he would find a way. He was exhausted, but it would not take much magic at all to deal with a lock to interrupt her relaxation for the evening.

"At least, as you said, you can enjoy a roof over your head whilst you wait for them. The stew is surprisingly edible."

His stomach quickly reminded him that he hadn't eaten properly in too long.
 
  • Nervous
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Her gaze was downcast as she ate, her eyes glancing up at him as he spoke and a brief frown sloping at her brows as he offered no argument or further taunt. She ate the rest of her meal quickly and in silence.

"Your bath's ready miss." the girl who cleared away her plate told her as she refilled her wine cup again. With a full belly and a few cups of wine, the prospect of a hot bath and a comfortable bed for the night, and the knowledge that she would hopefully be rid of him by tomorrow evening at the latest.. She felt pleasantly buzzed.

"Goodnight." she said dryly and pushed herself from her seat, feeling the wine hit her a little harder as she stood. She lifted the fresh cup from the table and after writing her note and having it subsequently sealed and sent off to the Bletchley estate, she retired up the stairs to her room. It was quaint, but the bed looked comfortable and the wooden tub sat by a burning hearth, the steam rising from the heat of the water.. Feyre closed the door behind her and stood with her back against it after she'd locked it, finding it strange to be alone.

She wasted no time in undressing and slipping into the near scalding water with her wine, a deep sigh tumbling from her lips as she closed her eyes and allowed the water to seep into her weary muscles.
 
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"Forget every little thing..." he muttered to himself. He would not have it. Raziel had displayed not an ounce of disappointment in her words, but for some reason that was a barb that caught him. He grinned a wicked grin all of his own as he formed his latest plan.

He was tired, he had lost blood and used enough magic that the wine went to his head quickly. Raziel should have rested to recover his strength, rather than tapping into it once more. Blood was his true fascination, but shadows and illusions were also his to command.

Simple glamours did not require much strength. Especially when he had a bond through blood with the target. The lock made no sound to her ears as it was turned once and then back again.

The spell fell away at the last moment. As Raziel, carrying a glass of his own stepped into the bath and placed his foot outside hers.

"Best not to waste the water," he whispered.
 
  • Scared
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As Feyre finally allowed herself to relax, the wine and the heat of the bath dragged her deeper until she had physically started to doze off. She hadn't even felt him stepping into the bath, hadn't sensed his presence at all until he spoke. Her brow furrowed, as though he were just in her head, and her lashes fluttered open drowsily.

She sobered instantly as she saw him, and water sloshed over the sides of the tub as she pushed herself to sit up so suddenly with a sharp intake of a gasp, her wine cup clattering to the floor. "GET OUT!!!" she screamed at him, trying both to cover herself and reach for the folded linen at the side of the tub all at once. If he didn't get out first then she would.
 
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"Oh look now you've spilled your wine," he airily, as if complaining about the weather. Some of the water had spilled from the bath, but not a drop of his wine.

Raziel was quicker. A hand to the folded linen scattered it out of reach. Beneath the water his tail twisted around her ankle. With the smooth surface of the bath she had little purchase against the slight tug to keep her from sitting too upright.

"Don't be silly now," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Must have taken a long time to fetch all thaf warm water. Don't waste it."
 
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Her honey eyes widened as she leaned over the side of the tub in attempt to grasp at the linen only to see it thrown out of reach. She tried to pull her knees in close to her as her arms wrapped around her chest, but she let out a trembled cry as his tail tugged at her ankle to prevent her from sitting up.

"Let me go!" she kicked out at him with her free leg with a growl through her teeth. "You've made your point!" That she was powerless, and he was not. That she was terrified, and she should be. That if he wanted to break her, he could.
 
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He was now, undeniably calm. As serene as the water itself had been just moments before his arrival.

With a soft sigh he sank into the water. The kick barely made him wince, and he placed his legs on either side of her own. Raziel tilted his head back and smiled.

"Enjoy your bath, enjoy the view. Might give you some inspiration when you get married off to some balding, fat, limp dicked country cousin of the baron's."
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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Feyre's jaw clenched, a huff escaping her nose at his insistence or completely ruining her life. He simply would not leave her alone, and a single tear born of frustration rolled down her cheek as she stared at the hearth rather than look at him at all.

"I was enjoying my bath, but like everything else you managed to ruin it." she pulled back on his grip on her ankle, refusing to look at him or even entertain the idea that she would be married off to anyone anything less than charming. Then again, it would never have been her choice, and now it wouldn't even be her father's choice, but someone who wouldn't care at all about her happiness. Still, whether the comment got to her or not she had no desire to argue with him.

She glanced at him and scowled, deciding against yelling or asking, certainly not pleading. Instead she aimed another kick between his legs, ready to get herself out of the bath at a moment's distraction.
 
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At least that got a reaction. Eyes flared open and his legs snapped together on her foot before it could cause him immense pain.

"Going to play dirty now. How rude. The water is sitlk warm and there is plenty of room," he protested.

He wore the vile sneer that followed like a glove. Every expression that crossed his face was a perfect mask. Everything about his posture was placed precisely where he wanted it. It did not matter whether he was convincing an emperor to trust his wisdom, or trying to punish an already broken noble brat just for threatening to forget him.

"Here, you can have my wine," he purred, a sickly sweet smile now forming. He offered the glass, swirling the crimson around.
 
He really was vile. And once again she caught herself cowering from him as she had in the river, she was giving him that satisfaction, that reaction that he needed to feel pleased with himself. She sneered at him and let her hands fall to her sides once more, her chin lifting an inch, and her bare chest still heaving with rage as she now attempted to slowly pull both feet free of him.

With the wine offered, she frowned and reached to snatch it from his grasp only to throw the liquid back at his face.

“I do not want your wine nor your company. I want you to get out of here.” she snapped and tossed the glass at the hearth.
 
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"For a country town that was quite pleasant wine," he said matter-of-factly. His long tongue, a brighter shade of crimson than his skin caught what it could before he splashed his face with water. Her anger was so very pure.

The magic that still bound their blood let him feel the sudden race of her pulse. It was intoxicating.

"Never mind," he continued. He had tentatively released the offending foot, but his tail remained loosely around her shin.

"So what was life like from day to day back at home?" he asking, turning to look out of the window.
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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Her galre was venomous as he complimented the wine, but his casual question about her life back home, a life she'd never have again, struck like a flint on his tongue and sparked an answering fire that burned from her chest and seared through her entire body. If she had a blade she'd have slammed it into his chest, again and again, she hated him, despised him.

She pulled back the foot that he released, and her hand balled into a fist as he looked out of the window, and she leaned forward to throw a hard right hook at his jaw.
 
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Raziel tilted his head away from the blow but she still struck his cheek. The sound of her knuckles against the contours of his face rang out. His tail tightened around her ankle sharply and yet he made no further move to defend himself.

That was going to leave a bruise. His eyes turned to look at her before his gradually turned face on once more.

"How dull you."
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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She could feel her knuckles swell and throb almost instantly. Her expression drawn into a rictus of rage and her body so tightly tensed she felt about ready to snap. She watched him turn his head, half expecting him to lash out in response and her heart pounding that bit harder with trepidation.

His words went unanswered, and she reached under the water instead to wrap her fingers around the width of his tail in effort to pry it from her leg, the disgust clear on her face. "I'm getting out. Let go of me before I scream this fucking place down." she warned, and knowing of just how precious he was of his ghastly tail she made sure to dig her nails into it's crimson skin.
 
Raziel hissed as her fingers dug into his tail. He accepted that pain, let it light the fire within him. Feyre was one limb short of him and he was happy to use that to his advantage. He grabbed her other wrist with an iron grip and surged forward without warning. The water moved in a wave with him, lifting Feyre and cascading over the lip of the bath behind her.

Raziel grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back as he pinned her against the bath with his whole body. She had his tail, but he had her. His voice was a whisper, not soft but harsh like a landslide of jagged rocks. His anger wasn't like hers, loud and directionless. It was as focused as the point of a blade.

"You fucking scream and you'll find out that your perception that the worst behind you is just a fallacy, just a shortcoming in your limited imagination. The blood of the first person to that door would be on your hands. Now I promised to deliver you to the Baron and I intend to bring you there unharmed and intact. But strike me again and I'll dump you on his doorstep in whatever state I feel like."

His chest, pressed to hers, rose and fell sharply as he breathed hard and fast against her. Adrenaline coursed through his veins but once more he was motionless. An unyielding iron that held her still.
 
  • Scared
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