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The tavern was not a place that Melina had expected to go to of all places, but she had heard rumors. There was a bard nearby, singing tales of her brave adventures. The young woman had only read tales of journeys through literature, yet to be able to hear of the world beyond Taengea filled her skull with longing and hopes of adventure. It would be difficult, however. Many people would be there, a plethora of commoners and nobles alike to hear the stories that were meant to be shared. If she went, that was something the dark-haired noble couldn’t avoid even if she wanted to. The thought caused her gaze to widen, dropping her gaze away from the written words. Could she do it? Definitely not alone. Yet, there was some hope to the thought of finally being able to face her fears of crowds and unfamiliar enclosures. Plus, the tavern would have wine, something that would be sure to steady her nerves.
A soft sound of contemplation escaped her lips. She could hear her heart beating and heat filling her cheeks. Ideally, she knew that she would never be rebellious enough to even try for an adventure outside of these walls, but perhaps, she could try to hear of one. To experience through another’s eyes, to drink merrily to the tales. No, she wouldn’t want to drink, she would forget, but to have a sip to give her courage, the crushed, fermented grapes providing her with an opportunity she wouldn’t have otherwise.
As they made their approach to the tavern itself, deep within the Central Plateía, Melina struggled not to bolt right then and there, or better yet, tell her companion that she had changed her mind. Already, her mind was like a hive of bees, buzzing erratically with the sound of panic. An internal monologue of, what if I embarrass everyone. What if I faint? What if someone notices me? Only the third question would be a fear that Melina would have, unlike her confident family. “Are we there yet?” She heard the clapping of hands, a such a startling noise that drew her out of melancholy and back into the present.
-We’re here, my lady.- A soft, reassuring whisper from the servant that had joined her, one that was there as a chaperone in case if Melina’s nerves became too much. Walking inside the enclosure, the woman gulped. It was very crowded, in fact too crowded. Why on earth did she think this was a good idea? Led to a chair by her escort, she made a feeble request for wine, already feeling sweat start to run down the back of her neck. An exchange of coins, one from her allowance was placed on the counter, a contemplative nod of reassurance met the servant. “Yes, I am fine.” The servant, uncertain if her charge was fine, decided to bite her tongue, instead sitting right beside her, her gaze apprehensive. “I have to be.”
Such a statement startled the servant, unsure why Melina felt so desperate to hear this story from this bard. However, the woman relaxed as she saw an expression of determination, even as the dark-haired noble grasped her goblet tightly. “I have to try.” Despite perspiration dripping down her scalp, her form practically shaking, she refused to give up. “Besides, no one will notice me anyway.” A dull whisper lost within the roar of the crowd as it grew to a crescendo. What the noise was about, Melina needed a second to process her thoughts and swim away from self-loathing. She couldn’t even get closer to the stage. A cheer. Why didn’t she bother dressing up? A roar. Why was it so hard to see? Deadening silence.
Looking up from her goblet, Melina began to close her eyes, as if praying to the gods and goddesses themselves that she could have the strength to carry on. Even as the gods didn’t answer immediately, perhaps they would hear her plea.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The tavern was not a place that Melina had expected to go to of all places, but she had heard rumors. There was a bard nearby, singing tales of her brave adventures. The young woman had only read tales of journeys through literature, yet to be able to hear of the world beyond Taengea filled her skull with longing and hopes of adventure. It would be difficult, however. Many people would be there, a plethora of commoners and nobles alike to hear the stories that were meant to be shared. If she went, that was something the dark-haired noble couldn’t avoid even if she wanted to. The thought caused her gaze to widen, dropping her gaze away from the written words. Could she do it? Definitely not alone. Yet, there was some hope to the thought of finally being able to face her fears of crowds and unfamiliar enclosures. Plus, the tavern would have wine, something that would be sure to steady her nerves.
A soft sound of contemplation escaped her lips. She could hear her heart beating and heat filling her cheeks. Ideally, she knew that she would never be rebellious enough to even try for an adventure outside of these walls, but perhaps, she could try to hear of one. To experience through another’s eyes, to drink merrily to the tales. No, she wouldn’t want to drink, she would forget, but to have a sip to give her courage, the crushed, fermented grapes providing her with an opportunity she wouldn’t have otherwise.
As they made their approach to the tavern itself, deep within the Central Plateía, Melina struggled not to bolt right then and there, or better yet, tell her companion that she had changed her mind. Already, her mind was like a hive of bees, buzzing erratically with the sound of panic. An internal monologue of, what if I embarrass everyone. What if I faint? What if someone notices me? Only the third question would be a fear that Melina would have, unlike her confident family. “Are we there yet?” She heard the clapping of hands, a such a startling noise that drew her out of melancholy and back into the present.
-We’re here, my lady.- A soft, reassuring whisper from the servant that had joined her, one that was there as a chaperone in case if Melina’s nerves became too much. Walking inside the enclosure, the woman gulped. It was very crowded, in fact too crowded. Why on earth did she think this was a good idea? Led to a chair by her escort, she made a feeble request for wine, already feeling sweat start to run down the back of her neck. An exchange of coins, one from her allowance was placed on the counter, a contemplative nod of reassurance met the servant. “Yes, I am fine.” The servant, uncertain if her charge was fine, decided to bite her tongue, instead sitting right beside her, her gaze apprehensive. “I have to be.”
Such a statement startled the servant, unsure why Melina felt so desperate to hear this story from this bard. However, the woman relaxed as she saw an expression of determination, even as the dark-haired noble grasped her goblet tightly. “I have to try.” Despite perspiration dripping down her scalp, her form practically shaking, she refused to give up. “Besides, no one will notice me anyway.” A dull whisper lost within the roar of the crowd as it grew to a crescendo. What the noise was about, Melina needed a second to process her thoughts and swim away from self-loathing. She couldn’t even get closer to the stage. A cheer. Why didn’t she bother dressing up? A roar. Why was it so hard to see? Deadening silence.
Looking up from her goblet, Melina began to close her eyes, as if praying to the gods and goddesses themselves that she could have the strength to carry on. Even as the gods didn’t answer immediately, perhaps they would hear her plea.
The tavern was not a place that Melina had expected to go to of all places, but she had heard rumors. There was a bard nearby, singing tales of her brave adventures. The young woman had only read tales of journeys through literature, yet to be able to hear of the world beyond Taengea filled her skull with longing and hopes of adventure. It would be difficult, however. Many people would be there, a plethora of commoners and nobles alike to hear the stories that were meant to be shared. If she went, that was something the dark-haired noble couldn’t avoid even if she wanted to. The thought caused her gaze to widen, dropping her gaze away from the written words. Could she do it? Definitely not alone. Yet, there was some hope to the thought of finally being able to face her fears of crowds and unfamiliar enclosures. Plus, the tavern would have wine, something that would be sure to steady her nerves.
A soft sound of contemplation escaped her lips. She could hear her heart beating and heat filling her cheeks. Ideally, she knew that she would never be rebellious enough to even try for an adventure outside of these walls, but perhaps, she could try to hear of one. To experience through another’s eyes, to drink merrily to the tales. No, she wouldn’t want to drink, she would forget, but to have a sip to give her courage, the crushed, fermented grapes providing her with an opportunity she wouldn’t have otherwise.
As they made their approach to the tavern itself, deep within the Central Plateía, Melina struggled not to bolt right then and there, or better yet, tell her companion that she had changed her mind. Already, her mind was like a hive of bees, buzzing erratically with the sound of panic. An internal monologue of, what if I embarrass everyone. What if I faint? What if someone notices me? Only the third question would be a fear that Melina would have, unlike her confident family. “Are we there yet?” She heard the clapping of hands, a such a startling noise that drew her out of melancholy and back into the present.
-We’re here, my lady.- A soft, reassuring whisper from the servant that had joined her, one that was there as a chaperone in case if Melina’s nerves became too much. Walking inside the enclosure, the woman gulped. It was very crowded, in fact too crowded. Why on earth did she think this was a good idea? Led to a chair by her escort, she made a feeble request for wine, already feeling sweat start to run down the back of her neck. An exchange of coins, one from her allowance was placed on the counter, a contemplative nod of reassurance met the servant. “Yes, I am fine.” The servant, uncertain if her charge was fine, decided to bite her tongue, instead sitting right beside her, her gaze apprehensive. “I have to be.”
Such a statement startled the servant, unsure why Melina felt so desperate to hear this story from this bard. However, the woman relaxed as she saw an expression of determination, even as the dark-haired noble grasped her goblet tightly. “I have to try.” Despite perspiration dripping down her scalp, her form practically shaking, she refused to give up. “Besides, no one will notice me anyway.” A dull whisper lost within the roar of the crowd as it grew to a crescendo. What the noise was about, Melina needed a second to process her thoughts and swim away from self-loathing. She couldn’t even get closer to the stage. A cheer. Why didn’t she bother dressing up? A roar. Why was it so hard to see? Deadening silence.
Looking up from her goblet, Melina began to close her eyes, as if praying to the gods and goddesses themselves that she could have the strength to carry on. Even as the gods didn’t answer immediately, perhaps they would hear her plea.
One story to the next, Anastasia allowed herself to indulge in one final fable before she'd call it a night. She'd told several already, to great uproar and the crowd in front of her grew larger and larger until the tavern she took to could truly bear it no longer. She relished in the attention, all smiles before letting a slow sip of water pour down her throat to soothe the vocal cords and make room for her last hurrah.
In victory, my chains are broken.
Always, Anastasia persisted with this thought in the back of her mind. Always, she needed to keep it there in order to defy the nature that was ingrained into her. There was darkness that festered within her soul, pain that was as of yet not fully resolved but kept buried. The bard Anastasia relished the idea of burying the past, obscuring it from her memory by the wild fabrications she told. Legends were spun from the very air itself, from the fables of old, from the wild inspiration that dwelt within her heart. Giants and cyclopes were not creatures she saw with her eyes, but fought within her chest. The expression of their existence served as a totem with which she avoided the spectres that they represented.
"Oh, come closer, friends. Draw near and hear me speak," she began, allowing the song that dwelt within her soul to pour into her words. Music had always been a means of coping, a path to righteous happiness that sought to sear the negativity within her in the blaze that was it. She found the smile woven so easily upon her lips before she placed her panpipes against them. Briefly, she allowed a mellifluous tune to vibrate against the pipes, setting the stage for the epic she sought to recount.
"Allow yourselves to imagine the cerulean plane in which terrible monsters and impossible beauty exist in tandem. I may bear the appearance of the young, but I know Poseidon's legends. Know me as Anastasia, the sweet nymph given legs so that your ears might know of the fearsome beast known as Charybdis."
Anastasia made careful emphasis of the name, her voice drawing low and her eyes wide as she sought to coax those within her vicinity to the notion of terror. She was curious to see if the Taengeans had heard the myth, and some of the elderly in the crowd seemed to screw their faces before an 'ah' of recognition escaped their lips. Anastasia found a fire in her gaze that extended into her chest as she grew bolder. Her tunes remained low, but her voice carried as the crowd grew silent with her temporary cease of the fable.
"The great terror that is Charybdis is not so due to the fearsome visage of a monster. Charybdis is the threat that sailors fear the most! One could fight a monster and stave it off! But what if that monster is water itself, driven into a whirling current? Charybdis is the invisible spectre of the deep, spinning the seas around and around. One circles about its maw until they are swallowed whole! To travel through its sea is to court death, but the fearsome Charybdis is told to protect immense treasure. Many have ventured into its maw, hoping for the reward. But ask yourself... is it worth it?"
Anastasia allowed her story to close with that, her eyes wide, but quickly they narrowed and the width of her grin replaced it. The woman possessed a saucer in which entertained patrons placed coin for her to take. She, however, did not reach for it just yet. Instead, she'd allow for the patrons to do as they pleased, confident beyond a doubt that none would dare steal from her, lest they earn the ire of Apollo and Dionysus both for very different reasons. She pilfered into her own coinpurse, taking enough coin and placing them in the hand of the server, taking from her a bottle of wine and a goblet for herself to serve. While she'd counted her tale, a particular sight had caught her eye. It was that of an attendant, a servant draped in wealth beyond her station joining another sight altogether. There was a woman who seemed on the verge of panic.
Was the tale truly so horrifying? she mused, a tinge of guilt woven within her. She had not yet poured her wine, but did not yet intend to. Instead, she wove through the crowd, placing a kiss on the cheek of each patron she'd seen place coin into her saucer before she landed upon the table of the two women that had drawn her attention. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that this woman was remarkable in her own right. Given hints of beauty by the Gods, but it was squandered on her. She was tinged in a faint sweat, her eyes drawn shut in the sort of desperation that the girl once known as Calliope knew very well, indeed. It was fear given form, and her heart bled out for the poor lass. Anastasia did not wait to speak, already set down and leaned over the table. Her lips were formed in an amicable smile, drawing one eye shut to wink at the woman.
She's beautiful upon closer look, she mused before she said,
"Did you enjoy the fable, my lady?" she asked. She knew not which house this woman dwelled from, but there was a regalness in her dress, opulence to her servant that no one but a royal would waste on their help. She bowed her head lightly before extending her hand out to the royal,
"Or should I tell you another legend and allow your trepidation to fall away?" she asked. Anastasia was more than happy to draw the attention of a royal to herself. She'd felt the heated gaze of more than one in her lifetime, but there was something about this girl that made Ana want to ease those fears of hers, so easily written on her face, away. Once Anastasia asked that question, she poured herself a glass of wine, letting her head tip back so the sanguine liquid poured into her maw.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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One story to the next, Anastasia allowed herself to indulge in one final fable before she'd call it a night. She'd told several already, to great uproar and the crowd in front of her grew larger and larger until the tavern she took to could truly bear it no longer. She relished in the attention, all smiles before letting a slow sip of water pour down her throat to soothe the vocal cords and make room for her last hurrah.
In victory, my chains are broken.
Always, Anastasia persisted with this thought in the back of her mind. Always, she needed to keep it there in order to defy the nature that was ingrained into her. There was darkness that festered within her soul, pain that was as of yet not fully resolved but kept buried. The bard Anastasia relished the idea of burying the past, obscuring it from her memory by the wild fabrications she told. Legends were spun from the very air itself, from the fables of old, from the wild inspiration that dwelt within her heart. Giants and cyclopes were not creatures she saw with her eyes, but fought within her chest. The expression of their existence served as a totem with which she avoided the spectres that they represented.
"Oh, come closer, friends. Draw near and hear me speak," she began, allowing the song that dwelt within her soul to pour into her words. Music had always been a means of coping, a path to righteous happiness that sought to sear the negativity within her in the blaze that was it. She found the smile woven so easily upon her lips before she placed her panpipes against them. Briefly, she allowed a mellifluous tune to vibrate against the pipes, setting the stage for the epic she sought to recount.
"Allow yourselves to imagine the cerulean plane in which terrible monsters and impossible beauty exist in tandem. I may bear the appearance of the young, but I know Poseidon's legends. Know me as Anastasia, the sweet nymph given legs so that your ears might know of the fearsome beast known as Charybdis."
Anastasia made careful emphasis of the name, her voice drawing low and her eyes wide as she sought to coax those within her vicinity to the notion of terror. She was curious to see if the Taengeans had heard the myth, and some of the elderly in the crowd seemed to screw their faces before an 'ah' of recognition escaped their lips. Anastasia found a fire in her gaze that extended into her chest as she grew bolder. Her tunes remained low, but her voice carried as the crowd grew silent with her temporary cease of the fable.
"The great terror that is Charybdis is not so due to the fearsome visage of a monster. Charybdis is the threat that sailors fear the most! One could fight a monster and stave it off! But what if that monster is water itself, driven into a whirling current? Charybdis is the invisible spectre of the deep, spinning the seas around and around. One circles about its maw until they are swallowed whole! To travel through its sea is to court death, but the fearsome Charybdis is told to protect immense treasure. Many have ventured into its maw, hoping for the reward. But ask yourself... is it worth it?"
Anastasia allowed her story to close with that, her eyes wide, but quickly they narrowed and the width of her grin replaced it. The woman possessed a saucer in which entertained patrons placed coin for her to take. She, however, did not reach for it just yet. Instead, she'd allow for the patrons to do as they pleased, confident beyond a doubt that none would dare steal from her, lest they earn the ire of Apollo and Dionysus both for very different reasons. She pilfered into her own coinpurse, taking enough coin and placing them in the hand of the server, taking from her a bottle of wine and a goblet for herself to serve. While she'd counted her tale, a particular sight had caught her eye. It was that of an attendant, a servant draped in wealth beyond her station joining another sight altogether. There was a woman who seemed on the verge of panic.
Was the tale truly so horrifying? she mused, a tinge of guilt woven within her. She had not yet poured her wine, but did not yet intend to. Instead, she wove through the crowd, placing a kiss on the cheek of each patron she'd seen place coin into her saucer before she landed upon the table of the two women that had drawn her attention. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that this woman was remarkable in her own right. Given hints of beauty by the Gods, but it was squandered on her. She was tinged in a faint sweat, her eyes drawn shut in the sort of desperation that the girl once known as Calliope knew very well, indeed. It was fear given form, and her heart bled out for the poor lass. Anastasia did not wait to speak, already set down and leaned over the table. Her lips were formed in an amicable smile, drawing one eye shut to wink at the woman.
She's beautiful upon closer look, she mused before she said,
"Did you enjoy the fable, my lady?" she asked. She knew not which house this woman dwelled from, but there was a regalness in her dress, opulence to her servant that no one but a royal would waste on their help. She bowed her head lightly before extending her hand out to the royal,
"Or should I tell you another legend and allow your trepidation to fall away?" she asked. Anastasia was more than happy to draw the attention of a royal to herself. She'd felt the heated gaze of more than one in her lifetime, but there was something about this girl that made Ana want to ease those fears of hers, so easily written on her face, away. Once Anastasia asked that question, she poured herself a glass of wine, letting her head tip back so the sanguine liquid poured into her maw.
One story to the next, Anastasia allowed herself to indulge in one final fable before she'd call it a night. She'd told several already, to great uproar and the crowd in front of her grew larger and larger until the tavern she took to could truly bear it no longer. She relished in the attention, all smiles before letting a slow sip of water pour down her throat to soothe the vocal cords and make room for her last hurrah.
In victory, my chains are broken.
Always, Anastasia persisted with this thought in the back of her mind. Always, she needed to keep it there in order to defy the nature that was ingrained into her. There was darkness that festered within her soul, pain that was as of yet not fully resolved but kept buried. The bard Anastasia relished the idea of burying the past, obscuring it from her memory by the wild fabrications she told. Legends were spun from the very air itself, from the fables of old, from the wild inspiration that dwelt within her heart. Giants and cyclopes were not creatures she saw with her eyes, but fought within her chest. The expression of their existence served as a totem with which she avoided the spectres that they represented.
"Oh, come closer, friends. Draw near and hear me speak," she began, allowing the song that dwelt within her soul to pour into her words. Music had always been a means of coping, a path to righteous happiness that sought to sear the negativity within her in the blaze that was it. She found the smile woven so easily upon her lips before she placed her panpipes against them. Briefly, she allowed a mellifluous tune to vibrate against the pipes, setting the stage for the epic she sought to recount.
"Allow yourselves to imagine the cerulean plane in which terrible monsters and impossible beauty exist in tandem. I may bear the appearance of the young, but I know Poseidon's legends. Know me as Anastasia, the sweet nymph given legs so that your ears might know of the fearsome beast known as Charybdis."
Anastasia made careful emphasis of the name, her voice drawing low and her eyes wide as she sought to coax those within her vicinity to the notion of terror. She was curious to see if the Taengeans had heard the myth, and some of the elderly in the crowd seemed to screw their faces before an 'ah' of recognition escaped their lips. Anastasia found a fire in her gaze that extended into her chest as she grew bolder. Her tunes remained low, but her voice carried as the crowd grew silent with her temporary cease of the fable.
"The great terror that is Charybdis is not so due to the fearsome visage of a monster. Charybdis is the threat that sailors fear the most! One could fight a monster and stave it off! But what if that monster is water itself, driven into a whirling current? Charybdis is the invisible spectre of the deep, spinning the seas around and around. One circles about its maw until they are swallowed whole! To travel through its sea is to court death, but the fearsome Charybdis is told to protect immense treasure. Many have ventured into its maw, hoping for the reward. But ask yourself... is it worth it?"
Anastasia allowed her story to close with that, her eyes wide, but quickly they narrowed and the width of her grin replaced it. The woman possessed a saucer in which entertained patrons placed coin for her to take. She, however, did not reach for it just yet. Instead, she'd allow for the patrons to do as they pleased, confident beyond a doubt that none would dare steal from her, lest they earn the ire of Apollo and Dionysus both for very different reasons. She pilfered into her own coinpurse, taking enough coin and placing them in the hand of the server, taking from her a bottle of wine and a goblet for herself to serve. While she'd counted her tale, a particular sight had caught her eye. It was that of an attendant, a servant draped in wealth beyond her station joining another sight altogether. There was a woman who seemed on the verge of panic.
Was the tale truly so horrifying? she mused, a tinge of guilt woven within her. She had not yet poured her wine, but did not yet intend to. Instead, she wove through the crowd, placing a kiss on the cheek of each patron she'd seen place coin into her saucer before she landed upon the table of the two women that had drawn her attention. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that this woman was remarkable in her own right. Given hints of beauty by the Gods, but it was squandered on her. She was tinged in a faint sweat, her eyes drawn shut in the sort of desperation that the girl once known as Calliope knew very well, indeed. It was fear given form, and her heart bled out for the poor lass. Anastasia did not wait to speak, already set down and leaned over the table. Her lips were formed in an amicable smile, drawing one eye shut to wink at the woman.
She's beautiful upon closer look, she mused before she said,
"Did you enjoy the fable, my lady?" she asked. She knew not which house this woman dwelled from, but there was a regalness in her dress, opulence to her servant that no one but a royal would waste on their help. She bowed her head lightly before extending her hand out to the royal,
"Or should I tell you another legend and allow your trepidation to fall away?" she asked. Anastasia was more than happy to draw the attention of a royal to herself. She'd felt the heated gaze of more than one in her lifetime, but there was something about this girl that made Ana want to ease those fears of hers, so easily written on her face, away. Once Anastasia asked that question, she poured herself a glass of wine, letting her head tip back so the sanguine liquid poured into her maw.
Mesmerized, that was what Melina was. The servant noticed immediately and carefully kept her eye on her charge’s cup, lest the young woman dropped it. Despite her nerves, the dark-haired woman was lost in the world of the bard. A woman she could not see but could hear every word. A lulling tale that made her anxiety lessen if only somewhat, her features straining forwards on her chair as if to come closer to the voice that spun tales that Melina could only wish to experience.
Come closer, friends. Draw near and hear me speak. The young woman wanted to do nothing more, if her father would have allowed it, she would have tried to invite the musically toned woman to the manor, but there was no way that he would. So, for now, places like this tavern, even if they invoked such anxiety of unfamiliar enclosed spaces and so many people within them was the price to pay if she wanted to hear stories of Lands Afar.
First, she was drawn to the tale, eyes wide as she heard of the fearsome beast that she had read of in storybooks, of beings of both beauty and terror. Charybdis was one of the stories that had left her shaking like a child, the thought of her dear uncle Lukos meeting such a being was something she feared, even as she held onto his letters dearly, correspondence limited through scribes and written word alone.
Perhaps it was silly to see such fear in a being that she herself would never have to face, but Melina often cared for those who did fare the seas. Who did go on adventures? What if this bard had encountered such a being, a nymph with legs, that was swallowed whole by such a sea monster. Or worse, the Scylla, who lived inside a rock deep within the sea. Being between both meant they would have to choose between a whirlpool of unforgiving wrath and a rock shoal, that was really a six-headed monster. Gripping the soft material of her outfit, she teased the seams as if trying to voyage between both sea monsters herself, desperate not to land on the fabric.
Reassurances were soft, ones that she could hear as she teased the thread, the soft material forgiving against hands. Coins were placed on her other hand, the servant giving her share in gratitude for getting to be part of such a story. -Don’t worry, my Lady, the story’s over. Just drink your wine, yes, drink it slowly, be careful not to spill it.-
The goblet, handed back to Melina was nursed, the sweetness shifting away from the nightmares, ones that instead shifted to shyness as her peripherals caught onto the bard herself. She’s so beautiful, she really is a nymph from the sea, blessed by the gods to come on land to share her story.
Coins were gathered, wine goblet placed on the table as she gave away much coin for such a tale. Spellbound, that’s what she was. Perhaps this woman really was a witch. Her father would be upset that she fell before one of those, but the thought that she could hear the story was more than worth it. The question, the first of many that the woman spoke, allowed a bit of heat to gather to her lips, embarrassed that she was so tongue-tied. Yet, she had never truly spoken to a bard, not that she remembered, or at least one that was this knowledgeable of Lands Afar.“It was a delight, I felt as if I was traversing between Scylla and Charybdis themselves. Or that you had, and I was worried that you would get swept away.”
About to reach out her hand to shake, she let it land into a gentle grip, hesitant to pull away from what surely should have been a beauteous mirage. As if catching herself staring, much to the amusement of her chaperone, she moved the coins towards the woman as if unable to believe that she was even being spoken to. “I would love to hear another tale, but I can imagine that you must get tired of telling so many stories in a night. However, if you are willing, I would be honored to hear another legend from you.” Watching as the wine was poured, another glass, she joined the woman, knowing that her servant would insist that she at least drink more to get some color to her cheeks. “Whatever tale you want to tell me, I will listen gladly.” Her tone was soft, despite the fear that she was exposing herself, making herself vulnerable in the eyes of a society who would gossip of yet another noble wasting too much coin on tales.
Already she was drawing attention from strangers who were wondering why the bard was paying attention to a noble, while blessed with some good looks, was nowhere near as dazzling as the shining star beneath her. However, as they recognized who she was, the hushed whispers of -It’s Lord Fotio’s daughter- filled the tavern, followed by hushed silence, then conversations on other topics.
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Check out their information page here.
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Mesmerized, that was what Melina was. The servant noticed immediately and carefully kept her eye on her charge’s cup, lest the young woman dropped it. Despite her nerves, the dark-haired woman was lost in the world of the bard. A woman she could not see but could hear every word. A lulling tale that made her anxiety lessen if only somewhat, her features straining forwards on her chair as if to come closer to the voice that spun tales that Melina could only wish to experience.
Come closer, friends. Draw near and hear me speak. The young woman wanted to do nothing more, if her father would have allowed it, she would have tried to invite the musically toned woman to the manor, but there was no way that he would. So, for now, places like this tavern, even if they invoked such anxiety of unfamiliar enclosed spaces and so many people within them was the price to pay if she wanted to hear stories of Lands Afar.
First, she was drawn to the tale, eyes wide as she heard of the fearsome beast that she had read of in storybooks, of beings of both beauty and terror. Charybdis was one of the stories that had left her shaking like a child, the thought of her dear uncle Lukos meeting such a being was something she feared, even as she held onto his letters dearly, correspondence limited through scribes and written word alone.
Perhaps it was silly to see such fear in a being that she herself would never have to face, but Melina often cared for those who did fare the seas. Who did go on adventures? What if this bard had encountered such a being, a nymph with legs, that was swallowed whole by such a sea monster. Or worse, the Scylla, who lived inside a rock deep within the sea. Being between both meant they would have to choose between a whirlpool of unforgiving wrath and a rock shoal, that was really a six-headed monster. Gripping the soft material of her outfit, she teased the seams as if trying to voyage between both sea monsters herself, desperate not to land on the fabric.
Reassurances were soft, ones that she could hear as she teased the thread, the soft material forgiving against hands. Coins were placed on her other hand, the servant giving her share in gratitude for getting to be part of such a story. -Don’t worry, my Lady, the story’s over. Just drink your wine, yes, drink it slowly, be careful not to spill it.-
The goblet, handed back to Melina was nursed, the sweetness shifting away from the nightmares, ones that instead shifted to shyness as her peripherals caught onto the bard herself. She’s so beautiful, she really is a nymph from the sea, blessed by the gods to come on land to share her story.
Coins were gathered, wine goblet placed on the table as she gave away much coin for such a tale. Spellbound, that’s what she was. Perhaps this woman really was a witch. Her father would be upset that she fell before one of those, but the thought that she could hear the story was more than worth it. The question, the first of many that the woman spoke, allowed a bit of heat to gather to her lips, embarrassed that she was so tongue-tied. Yet, she had never truly spoken to a bard, not that she remembered, or at least one that was this knowledgeable of Lands Afar.“It was a delight, I felt as if I was traversing between Scylla and Charybdis themselves. Or that you had, and I was worried that you would get swept away.”
About to reach out her hand to shake, she let it land into a gentle grip, hesitant to pull away from what surely should have been a beauteous mirage. As if catching herself staring, much to the amusement of her chaperone, she moved the coins towards the woman as if unable to believe that she was even being spoken to. “I would love to hear another tale, but I can imagine that you must get tired of telling so many stories in a night. However, if you are willing, I would be honored to hear another legend from you.” Watching as the wine was poured, another glass, she joined the woman, knowing that her servant would insist that she at least drink more to get some color to her cheeks. “Whatever tale you want to tell me, I will listen gladly.” Her tone was soft, despite the fear that she was exposing herself, making herself vulnerable in the eyes of a society who would gossip of yet another noble wasting too much coin on tales.
Already she was drawing attention from strangers who were wondering why the bard was paying attention to a noble, while blessed with some good looks, was nowhere near as dazzling as the shining star beneath her. However, as they recognized who she was, the hushed whispers of -It’s Lord Fotio’s daughter- filled the tavern, followed by hushed silence, then conversations on other topics.
Mesmerized, that was what Melina was. The servant noticed immediately and carefully kept her eye on her charge’s cup, lest the young woman dropped it. Despite her nerves, the dark-haired woman was lost in the world of the bard. A woman she could not see but could hear every word. A lulling tale that made her anxiety lessen if only somewhat, her features straining forwards on her chair as if to come closer to the voice that spun tales that Melina could only wish to experience.
Come closer, friends. Draw near and hear me speak. The young woman wanted to do nothing more, if her father would have allowed it, she would have tried to invite the musically toned woman to the manor, but there was no way that he would. So, for now, places like this tavern, even if they invoked such anxiety of unfamiliar enclosed spaces and so many people within them was the price to pay if she wanted to hear stories of Lands Afar.
First, she was drawn to the tale, eyes wide as she heard of the fearsome beast that she had read of in storybooks, of beings of both beauty and terror. Charybdis was one of the stories that had left her shaking like a child, the thought of her dear uncle Lukos meeting such a being was something she feared, even as she held onto his letters dearly, correspondence limited through scribes and written word alone.
Perhaps it was silly to see such fear in a being that she herself would never have to face, but Melina often cared for those who did fare the seas. Who did go on adventures? What if this bard had encountered such a being, a nymph with legs, that was swallowed whole by such a sea monster. Or worse, the Scylla, who lived inside a rock deep within the sea. Being between both meant they would have to choose between a whirlpool of unforgiving wrath and a rock shoal, that was really a six-headed monster. Gripping the soft material of her outfit, she teased the seams as if trying to voyage between both sea monsters herself, desperate not to land on the fabric.
Reassurances were soft, ones that she could hear as she teased the thread, the soft material forgiving against hands. Coins were placed on her other hand, the servant giving her share in gratitude for getting to be part of such a story. -Don’t worry, my Lady, the story’s over. Just drink your wine, yes, drink it slowly, be careful not to spill it.-
The goblet, handed back to Melina was nursed, the sweetness shifting away from the nightmares, ones that instead shifted to shyness as her peripherals caught onto the bard herself. She’s so beautiful, she really is a nymph from the sea, blessed by the gods to come on land to share her story.
Coins were gathered, wine goblet placed on the table as she gave away much coin for such a tale. Spellbound, that’s what she was. Perhaps this woman really was a witch. Her father would be upset that she fell before one of those, but the thought that she could hear the story was more than worth it. The question, the first of many that the woman spoke, allowed a bit of heat to gather to her lips, embarrassed that she was so tongue-tied. Yet, she had never truly spoken to a bard, not that she remembered, or at least one that was this knowledgeable of Lands Afar.“It was a delight, I felt as if I was traversing between Scylla and Charybdis themselves. Or that you had, and I was worried that you would get swept away.”
About to reach out her hand to shake, she let it land into a gentle grip, hesitant to pull away from what surely should have been a beauteous mirage. As if catching herself staring, much to the amusement of her chaperone, she moved the coins towards the woman as if unable to believe that she was even being spoken to. “I would love to hear another tale, but I can imagine that you must get tired of telling so many stories in a night. However, if you are willing, I would be honored to hear another legend from you.” Watching as the wine was poured, another glass, she joined the woman, knowing that her servant would insist that she at least drink more to get some color to her cheeks. “Whatever tale you want to tell me, I will listen gladly.” Her tone was soft, despite the fear that she was exposing herself, making herself vulnerable in the eyes of a society who would gossip of yet another noble wasting too much coin on tales.
Already she was drawing attention from strangers who were wondering why the bard was paying attention to a noble, while blessed with some good looks, was nowhere near as dazzling as the shining star beneath her. However, as they recognized who she was, the hushed whispers of -It’s Lord Fotio’s daughter- filled the tavern, followed by hushed silence, then conversations on other topics.
Calliope of Aetaea.
Anastasia never wished it on herself to think of the name that laid claim to a world of suffering. Terror had been the condition of her existence, and often she'd confused nightmare with reality. To compare Calliope of Aetaea to anyone, let alone any sort of royal-blooded heiress astounded her to no end. She was the bard, but truly she wondered what stories the royal in front of her needed to share. She knew the anxiety, the trepidation that accompanied the waking world. And she had to know. But, it was neither the time nor the place. Anastasia allowed her gaze to lower to the generous offering on the table. The bard hadn't come to the table she was at for the royal to laud her with such reward, but it was beyond contemptible for her to refuse it as it was offered. It would be a dishonor to Apollo and Hermes both, and the idea of drawing ire from the God that resonated with her the most was humiliation incarnate.
"It's seldom that the young of the kingdom's courts know tales from other lands. Truly, my lady, I commend the expansiveness of your knowledge!" she began. There was sincerity in her voice, a soft chuckle accompanying her words at the worry that dashed itself in as well. When Melina offered her hand, Anastasia made a decision. Perhaps it was foolish, but the bard raised Melina's hand, placing it gingerly upon her own lips before allowing the royal to release hers. Anastasia knew her place well enough, and was pleased to allow the fearful beauty to speak. She seemed to grow more confident in each utterance, or perhaps it was merely Ana's hope that she did. She pined to hear the woman's quiet voice turn louder and firmer. Truly, she relished in each word of praise and each request that Melina made of her. She did not, however, answer immediately.
A smile cast upon her lips as she allowed her fingertips to comb over the coin. She glanced to find her direction, but otherwise kept her entrancing hazel eyes locked upon Melina's own. She did not count the coin, sliding it towards the edge of the table before leaving it there. The bard nodded, allowing the pleasure to sift from her lips in the form of a voice culled. The words she spoke were for the table alone, and far quieter than the rumours that brandished momentarily about the tavern.
"My lady, it would be my distinct pleasure."
The daughter of Lord Fotios of Leventi? Aren't there three?! Why can't these fools use her name? she admonished them mentally. Of course, Anastasia was not shy to ask, but the idea of giving this woman the pleasure of hearing her name without it being asked of her drew fire throughout her mind. But, it was not meant to be. Rather than listen to the whispers she placed her undivided attention upon the courtier. There was a rush of exhilaration that came to her. She'd the pleasure of a number of courtier's attentions in her lifetime, but it was so very rare that she caught the sight of a female one. The bard was not shy with her gaze, letting her lips draw to follow the movements of Melina's. So very briefly, she imagined the feeling of them pressed to hers. The heat of a flush coaxed at her flesh, beginning as a soft flutter within her chest but moving throughout the rest of her.
Anastasia raised the goblet to her lips, allowing yet another sip of the delightful liqueur to coat her throat. She'd been talking for hours, but never did she grow tired of it. It was Anastasia's calling to perform and entertain, just as much as it was to pilfer and thieve. Thought whirled about her skull as she considered the many legends she'd compiled and invented in the course of her lifetime before settling upon the one she treasured most of all.
Her own. With minor adjustments, of course.
"Then allow me to draw closer, Lady Leventi. For this tale is for you and your servant and no others."
Anastasia hailed for the tavern servant to bring to her the saucer near the stage. Anastasia did allow herself a moment to gather, but again not count her coin. She placed six within the hand of the servant. She smiled apologetically to the courtier before she said,
"Pardon me, Lady Leventi. For you, one. For your master, five."
She shooed the servant away. It was the prerogative of Hermes that she pay respect to the tavern that housed her. She walked away with more than enough and generosity held its own reward. Anastasia rose from her chair only to move it closer to Melina's own. Once Ana was within reach of the Leventi daughter, Ana sat down and began the weaving of her tale,
"I wonder, my dear. You are well-learned in fables of old. But are you versed in the telling of today? The merchants of Greece and beyond tell of a phantom charlatan pilfering jewels from round their very necks. The prince of thieves is reputed to pass through walls and leap across rivers. He is silent as the night he revels in, as if he exists both as man and shadow.
Of course, who's to trust rumour and speculation? Have you heard, milady, of any such truth? Of baubles gone missing throughout all of Taengea? This bard is glad to be of meager means," she said with an entirely straight face. She thought fondly of the jewels she decorated along her stomach as her ritual to sleep. She dare not think of the weight of her purse this night when she at last put away the coin on the table.
"This bard is but a messenger, a deliverer of fables and couldn't fathom the gall! But nonetheless, I've heard count that the prince of thieves dashes atop Poseidon's waves. So powerless is the world to catch him that even the sea could not lay its claim."
With that, the bard decided to end her tale. It was too self-indulgent, to delve deeper. She'd reveal too much, and she had every intention of keeping her secrets to the grave even as she openly admitted the existence of her own crimes. Ana decided on a bit of daring, raising a hand to allow fingertips to gingerly dance along Melina's chin in an idle interest before she pulled back and rested her back against the plane of her chair.
"Would you do me an honour, my lady? It feels so strange to be this close and call you Lady Leventi. Tell me your name, and I'd be honored to speak it and remember it long after you walk away from me."
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Calliope of Aetaea.
Anastasia never wished it on herself to think of the name that laid claim to a world of suffering. Terror had been the condition of her existence, and often she'd confused nightmare with reality. To compare Calliope of Aetaea to anyone, let alone any sort of royal-blooded heiress astounded her to no end. She was the bard, but truly she wondered what stories the royal in front of her needed to share. She knew the anxiety, the trepidation that accompanied the waking world. And she had to know. But, it was neither the time nor the place. Anastasia allowed her gaze to lower to the generous offering on the table. The bard hadn't come to the table she was at for the royal to laud her with such reward, but it was beyond contemptible for her to refuse it as it was offered. It would be a dishonor to Apollo and Hermes both, and the idea of drawing ire from the God that resonated with her the most was humiliation incarnate.
"It's seldom that the young of the kingdom's courts know tales from other lands. Truly, my lady, I commend the expansiveness of your knowledge!" she began. There was sincerity in her voice, a soft chuckle accompanying her words at the worry that dashed itself in as well. When Melina offered her hand, Anastasia made a decision. Perhaps it was foolish, but the bard raised Melina's hand, placing it gingerly upon her own lips before allowing the royal to release hers. Anastasia knew her place well enough, and was pleased to allow the fearful beauty to speak. She seemed to grow more confident in each utterance, or perhaps it was merely Ana's hope that she did. She pined to hear the woman's quiet voice turn louder and firmer. Truly, she relished in each word of praise and each request that Melina made of her. She did not, however, answer immediately.
A smile cast upon her lips as she allowed her fingertips to comb over the coin. She glanced to find her direction, but otherwise kept her entrancing hazel eyes locked upon Melina's own. She did not count the coin, sliding it towards the edge of the table before leaving it there. The bard nodded, allowing the pleasure to sift from her lips in the form of a voice culled. The words she spoke were for the table alone, and far quieter than the rumours that brandished momentarily about the tavern.
"My lady, it would be my distinct pleasure."
The daughter of Lord Fotios of Leventi? Aren't there three?! Why can't these fools use her name? she admonished them mentally. Of course, Anastasia was not shy to ask, but the idea of giving this woman the pleasure of hearing her name without it being asked of her drew fire throughout her mind. But, it was not meant to be. Rather than listen to the whispers she placed her undivided attention upon the courtier. There was a rush of exhilaration that came to her. She'd the pleasure of a number of courtier's attentions in her lifetime, but it was so very rare that she caught the sight of a female one. The bard was not shy with her gaze, letting her lips draw to follow the movements of Melina's. So very briefly, she imagined the feeling of them pressed to hers. The heat of a flush coaxed at her flesh, beginning as a soft flutter within her chest but moving throughout the rest of her.
Anastasia raised the goblet to her lips, allowing yet another sip of the delightful liqueur to coat her throat. She'd been talking for hours, but never did she grow tired of it. It was Anastasia's calling to perform and entertain, just as much as it was to pilfer and thieve. Thought whirled about her skull as she considered the many legends she'd compiled and invented in the course of her lifetime before settling upon the one she treasured most of all.
Her own. With minor adjustments, of course.
"Then allow me to draw closer, Lady Leventi. For this tale is for you and your servant and no others."
Anastasia hailed for the tavern servant to bring to her the saucer near the stage. Anastasia did allow herself a moment to gather, but again not count her coin. She placed six within the hand of the servant. She smiled apologetically to the courtier before she said,
"Pardon me, Lady Leventi. For you, one. For your master, five."
She shooed the servant away. It was the prerogative of Hermes that she pay respect to the tavern that housed her. She walked away with more than enough and generosity held its own reward. Anastasia rose from her chair only to move it closer to Melina's own. Once Ana was within reach of the Leventi daughter, Ana sat down and began the weaving of her tale,
"I wonder, my dear. You are well-learned in fables of old. But are you versed in the telling of today? The merchants of Greece and beyond tell of a phantom charlatan pilfering jewels from round their very necks. The prince of thieves is reputed to pass through walls and leap across rivers. He is silent as the night he revels in, as if he exists both as man and shadow.
Of course, who's to trust rumour and speculation? Have you heard, milady, of any such truth? Of baubles gone missing throughout all of Taengea? This bard is glad to be of meager means," she said with an entirely straight face. She thought fondly of the jewels she decorated along her stomach as her ritual to sleep. She dare not think of the weight of her purse this night when she at last put away the coin on the table.
"This bard is but a messenger, a deliverer of fables and couldn't fathom the gall! But nonetheless, I've heard count that the prince of thieves dashes atop Poseidon's waves. So powerless is the world to catch him that even the sea could not lay its claim."
With that, the bard decided to end her tale. It was too self-indulgent, to delve deeper. She'd reveal too much, and she had every intention of keeping her secrets to the grave even as she openly admitted the existence of her own crimes. Ana decided on a bit of daring, raising a hand to allow fingertips to gingerly dance along Melina's chin in an idle interest before she pulled back and rested her back against the plane of her chair.
"Would you do me an honour, my lady? It feels so strange to be this close and call you Lady Leventi. Tell me your name, and I'd be honored to speak it and remember it long after you walk away from me."
Calliope of Aetaea.
Anastasia never wished it on herself to think of the name that laid claim to a world of suffering. Terror had been the condition of her existence, and often she'd confused nightmare with reality. To compare Calliope of Aetaea to anyone, let alone any sort of royal-blooded heiress astounded her to no end. She was the bard, but truly she wondered what stories the royal in front of her needed to share. She knew the anxiety, the trepidation that accompanied the waking world. And she had to know. But, it was neither the time nor the place. Anastasia allowed her gaze to lower to the generous offering on the table. The bard hadn't come to the table she was at for the royal to laud her with such reward, but it was beyond contemptible for her to refuse it as it was offered. It would be a dishonor to Apollo and Hermes both, and the idea of drawing ire from the God that resonated with her the most was humiliation incarnate.
"It's seldom that the young of the kingdom's courts know tales from other lands. Truly, my lady, I commend the expansiveness of your knowledge!" she began. There was sincerity in her voice, a soft chuckle accompanying her words at the worry that dashed itself in as well. When Melina offered her hand, Anastasia made a decision. Perhaps it was foolish, but the bard raised Melina's hand, placing it gingerly upon her own lips before allowing the royal to release hers. Anastasia knew her place well enough, and was pleased to allow the fearful beauty to speak. She seemed to grow more confident in each utterance, or perhaps it was merely Ana's hope that she did. She pined to hear the woman's quiet voice turn louder and firmer. Truly, she relished in each word of praise and each request that Melina made of her. She did not, however, answer immediately.
A smile cast upon her lips as she allowed her fingertips to comb over the coin. She glanced to find her direction, but otherwise kept her entrancing hazel eyes locked upon Melina's own. She did not count the coin, sliding it towards the edge of the table before leaving it there. The bard nodded, allowing the pleasure to sift from her lips in the form of a voice culled. The words she spoke were for the table alone, and far quieter than the rumours that brandished momentarily about the tavern.
"My lady, it would be my distinct pleasure."
The daughter of Lord Fotios of Leventi? Aren't there three?! Why can't these fools use her name? she admonished them mentally. Of course, Anastasia was not shy to ask, but the idea of giving this woman the pleasure of hearing her name without it being asked of her drew fire throughout her mind. But, it was not meant to be. Rather than listen to the whispers she placed her undivided attention upon the courtier. There was a rush of exhilaration that came to her. She'd the pleasure of a number of courtier's attentions in her lifetime, but it was so very rare that she caught the sight of a female one. The bard was not shy with her gaze, letting her lips draw to follow the movements of Melina's. So very briefly, she imagined the feeling of them pressed to hers. The heat of a flush coaxed at her flesh, beginning as a soft flutter within her chest but moving throughout the rest of her.
Anastasia raised the goblet to her lips, allowing yet another sip of the delightful liqueur to coat her throat. She'd been talking for hours, but never did she grow tired of it. It was Anastasia's calling to perform and entertain, just as much as it was to pilfer and thieve. Thought whirled about her skull as she considered the many legends she'd compiled and invented in the course of her lifetime before settling upon the one she treasured most of all.
Her own. With minor adjustments, of course.
"Then allow me to draw closer, Lady Leventi. For this tale is for you and your servant and no others."
Anastasia hailed for the tavern servant to bring to her the saucer near the stage. Anastasia did allow herself a moment to gather, but again not count her coin. She placed six within the hand of the servant. She smiled apologetically to the courtier before she said,
"Pardon me, Lady Leventi. For you, one. For your master, five."
She shooed the servant away. It was the prerogative of Hermes that she pay respect to the tavern that housed her. She walked away with more than enough and generosity held its own reward. Anastasia rose from her chair only to move it closer to Melina's own. Once Ana was within reach of the Leventi daughter, Ana sat down and began the weaving of her tale,
"I wonder, my dear. You are well-learned in fables of old. But are you versed in the telling of today? The merchants of Greece and beyond tell of a phantom charlatan pilfering jewels from round their very necks. The prince of thieves is reputed to pass through walls and leap across rivers. He is silent as the night he revels in, as if he exists both as man and shadow.
Of course, who's to trust rumour and speculation? Have you heard, milady, of any such truth? Of baubles gone missing throughout all of Taengea? This bard is glad to be of meager means," she said with an entirely straight face. She thought fondly of the jewels she decorated along her stomach as her ritual to sleep. She dare not think of the weight of her purse this night when she at last put away the coin on the table.
"This bard is but a messenger, a deliverer of fables and couldn't fathom the gall! But nonetheless, I've heard count that the prince of thieves dashes atop Poseidon's waves. So powerless is the world to catch him that even the sea could not lay its claim."
With that, the bard decided to end her tale. It was too self-indulgent, to delve deeper. She'd reveal too much, and she had every intention of keeping her secrets to the grave even as she openly admitted the existence of her own crimes. Ana decided on a bit of daring, raising a hand to allow fingertips to gingerly dance along Melina's chin in an idle interest before she pulled back and rested her back against the plane of her chair.
"Would you do me an honour, my lady? It feels so strange to be this close and call you Lady Leventi. Tell me your name, and I'd be honored to speak it and remember it long after you walk away from me."
To face such an image, a bard so beautiful that she had to be blessed by Aphrodite herself, Melina felt both honor and sadness. Sadness that she would never match up to such a vision, that she would always be a partially-developed swan that was lacking confidence as well as grace to tie it together. A permanent wallflower. Please stay for a little while longer, as if Melina pleaded with the gods just to have this moment where she was acknowledged before slipping into the shadows. Please.
Compliments were unexpected, drawing a hint of color to her cheeks that were clearly not because of the wine. “I find that reading legends of faraway lands fill me with great delight.” Reading itself was a solace, but at the servant’s ever-observant gaze, Melina found herself unable to say the true reason. That she longed to be part of the story, to find her own adventure. It wasn’t that being a noble was boring, in fact, she knew her place. But, to imagine herself in the steps of one well-traveled, to see marvelous sights, to face great perils, now that was something that kept her going.
Fingertips trembled as they made contact with the vision’s lips, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Why such a complimentary greeting? Why me? Melina didn’t understand. She couldn’t dare to speak of what tumult of emotions she was experiencing. She wanted to impress this nymph, no this siren, even if she was left crashing into the rocks below. Yet, she was cursed with self-loathing, despite her great admiration of this new acquaintance. The servant watching began to clear her throat, drawing Melina away from the moment and instead into the present. Releasing her own hand was difficult, for she wanted to explore what surely had been a hand well-traveled as if it had some secrets to tell as well.
Perhaps the wine was getting to her. Unlike her father, Melina had a weaker tolerance and feared that she would do something silly if she drank anymore. Waiting with bated breath, despite patience being one of her strong-suits, dark eyes found entrancing hazel. When the answer finally came, she had to hide her smile behind another sip of wine, lest rumors began circling of a noble too swept by the story. Already she could hear the buzzing hive around her, the hushed silence as they recognized who the absorbed noble was. Fotios, her father, was a scary man to many, so rumors often died as swiftly as they came. Not even her name escaped, lest the gossipers faced the Head of House’s wrath.
Lowering the goblet, the sweetness teasing her tongue along with the even sweeter words of Anastasia herself, Melina felt privileged at that very moment. A story just for herself and her servant. For once she wished that her servant wasn’t near, but even the young woman knew how foolish such a thought was. For what if the crowds scared her after this image was gone. What if something happened and she brought shame to her family? No, it was better to have an escort with her, even if she longed to hear a tale just for herself alone.
Watching the gathering of coins, ones that the bard didn’t dare to count, Melina allowed the clinking sounds of metal against metal to drag her mind to the present. “No, do not worry, I understand the necessity.” Of course, the tavern itself was a host of this vision, it was quite generous that the woman paid her due. Even to the servant as well. Such generosity made Melina speculate, wondering if she could have such a wondrous being as a friend, yet she had to silence that thought before it went further. Clearly, the wine was getting to her head. Father would not approve of her frolicking with bards, even if he humored her insistence to learn tales of the world beyond them.
No, it was best to instead treasure what she could have. A story, one for just the three of them to share. Leaning forward in her chair, allowing herself to catch the softened tones of a woven story, she rested her head on her hands. That was where Melina’s knowledge was limited. Tales of today, something her father would rebuke her upon. For what good was knowledge of the past if the present wasn’t included. This was why Eirini, her mother, wanted her to explore the marketplace more often, not only to hear rumors of current events but to understand the current world around them. It wasn’t that Melina was naïve, rather that she missed a lot of events when she contented herself with a dusty tome. However, what else was she supposed to do? Face her fears of unfamiliarity? Although, she seemed to be doing quite well at the moment as the bard spun her a tale of a phantom thief.
Interest filled her at such a tale. A thief, one that rode upon both land and sea, dashing to steal treasures of young and old. Of baubles stolen, though Melina herself wore none unless her mother forced her to. Yet, to hear of such a man scaling walls, a skill that Ariadne might have bestowed upon him. However, to dash upon the waves unscathed? While her servant showed doubt at such a feat, Melina imagined that this man would be one that would traverse the land and sea with treasures so incredibly rare, heirlooms sacred, and jewels sparkling that the land and sea would ache to swallow him whole. Yet, she found herself hoping the mysterious male in these stories would survive, this prince of thieves, not a noble or royalty would be safe if only to help the bard spin rumors and tales anew.
“What a marvelous story, Anastasia.” The name, one that she spoke reverently as if such a tale had awoken an urge of wanderlust. One that prevented her from being able to notice the dancing fingertips teasing her chin until it was too late. Something her servant would rebuke her upon later, how ladies didn’t let commoners touch them. Even if the commoner was attractive and providing entertainment. The servant was about to voice her concerns, yet Melina found her voice, a soft one that was dry with wonder. An honor? What on earth could she do that was more than provide coin?
Tell me your name. Raising from her rested position, the steeple of her hands dropping to her lap, Melina closed her eyes. While she really shouldn’t give away her name, she reasoned that if everyone else in the tavern knew who she was, were, in fact, whispering as they observed once more, only to be shushed by her servant’s glare. So, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for the bard to know as well. “My name is Melina.” In fact, she was sure that this bard could have asked anything of her and she would have provided it, just to hear another tale. Realizing that she was truly lost, a flush returned to her cheeks, as feelings began to awake. Curiosity. Longing to be understood, acknowledged as she was now. Other feelings that Melina couldn’t voice, lest she tempted fate. One that she would think about, dissect later at night when she was left to her thoughts as company. However, for now, she would stay in the presence of this vision for just a little longer, to memorize the one who gave her the gift of a story of her own.
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To face such an image, a bard so beautiful that she had to be blessed by Aphrodite herself, Melina felt both honor and sadness. Sadness that she would never match up to such a vision, that she would always be a partially-developed swan that was lacking confidence as well as grace to tie it together. A permanent wallflower. Please stay for a little while longer, as if Melina pleaded with the gods just to have this moment where she was acknowledged before slipping into the shadows. Please.
Compliments were unexpected, drawing a hint of color to her cheeks that were clearly not because of the wine. “I find that reading legends of faraway lands fill me with great delight.” Reading itself was a solace, but at the servant’s ever-observant gaze, Melina found herself unable to say the true reason. That she longed to be part of the story, to find her own adventure. It wasn’t that being a noble was boring, in fact, she knew her place. But, to imagine herself in the steps of one well-traveled, to see marvelous sights, to face great perils, now that was something that kept her going.
Fingertips trembled as they made contact with the vision’s lips, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Why such a complimentary greeting? Why me? Melina didn’t understand. She couldn’t dare to speak of what tumult of emotions she was experiencing. She wanted to impress this nymph, no this siren, even if she was left crashing into the rocks below. Yet, she was cursed with self-loathing, despite her great admiration of this new acquaintance. The servant watching began to clear her throat, drawing Melina away from the moment and instead into the present. Releasing her own hand was difficult, for she wanted to explore what surely had been a hand well-traveled as if it had some secrets to tell as well.
Perhaps the wine was getting to her. Unlike her father, Melina had a weaker tolerance and feared that she would do something silly if she drank anymore. Waiting with bated breath, despite patience being one of her strong-suits, dark eyes found entrancing hazel. When the answer finally came, she had to hide her smile behind another sip of wine, lest rumors began circling of a noble too swept by the story. Already she could hear the buzzing hive around her, the hushed silence as they recognized who the absorbed noble was. Fotios, her father, was a scary man to many, so rumors often died as swiftly as they came. Not even her name escaped, lest the gossipers faced the Head of House’s wrath.
Lowering the goblet, the sweetness teasing her tongue along with the even sweeter words of Anastasia herself, Melina felt privileged at that very moment. A story just for herself and her servant. For once she wished that her servant wasn’t near, but even the young woman knew how foolish such a thought was. For what if the crowds scared her after this image was gone. What if something happened and she brought shame to her family? No, it was better to have an escort with her, even if she longed to hear a tale just for herself alone.
Watching the gathering of coins, ones that the bard didn’t dare to count, Melina allowed the clinking sounds of metal against metal to drag her mind to the present. “No, do not worry, I understand the necessity.” Of course, the tavern itself was a host of this vision, it was quite generous that the woman paid her due. Even to the servant as well. Such generosity made Melina speculate, wondering if she could have such a wondrous being as a friend, yet she had to silence that thought before it went further. Clearly, the wine was getting to her head. Father would not approve of her frolicking with bards, even if he humored her insistence to learn tales of the world beyond them.
No, it was best to instead treasure what she could have. A story, one for just the three of them to share. Leaning forward in her chair, allowing herself to catch the softened tones of a woven story, she rested her head on her hands. That was where Melina’s knowledge was limited. Tales of today, something her father would rebuke her upon. For what good was knowledge of the past if the present wasn’t included. This was why Eirini, her mother, wanted her to explore the marketplace more often, not only to hear rumors of current events but to understand the current world around them. It wasn’t that Melina was naïve, rather that she missed a lot of events when she contented herself with a dusty tome. However, what else was she supposed to do? Face her fears of unfamiliarity? Although, she seemed to be doing quite well at the moment as the bard spun her a tale of a phantom thief.
Interest filled her at such a tale. A thief, one that rode upon both land and sea, dashing to steal treasures of young and old. Of baubles stolen, though Melina herself wore none unless her mother forced her to. Yet, to hear of such a man scaling walls, a skill that Ariadne might have bestowed upon him. However, to dash upon the waves unscathed? While her servant showed doubt at such a feat, Melina imagined that this man would be one that would traverse the land and sea with treasures so incredibly rare, heirlooms sacred, and jewels sparkling that the land and sea would ache to swallow him whole. Yet, she found herself hoping the mysterious male in these stories would survive, this prince of thieves, not a noble or royalty would be safe if only to help the bard spin rumors and tales anew.
“What a marvelous story, Anastasia.” The name, one that she spoke reverently as if such a tale had awoken an urge of wanderlust. One that prevented her from being able to notice the dancing fingertips teasing her chin until it was too late. Something her servant would rebuke her upon later, how ladies didn’t let commoners touch them. Even if the commoner was attractive and providing entertainment. The servant was about to voice her concerns, yet Melina found her voice, a soft one that was dry with wonder. An honor? What on earth could she do that was more than provide coin?
Tell me your name. Raising from her rested position, the steeple of her hands dropping to her lap, Melina closed her eyes. While she really shouldn’t give away her name, she reasoned that if everyone else in the tavern knew who she was, were, in fact, whispering as they observed once more, only to be shushed by her servant’s glare. So, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for the bard to know as well. “My name is Melina.” In fact, she was sure that this bard could have asked anything of her and she would have provided it, just to hear another tale. Realizing that she was truly lost, a flush returned to her cheeks, as feelings began to awake. Curiosity. Longing to be understood, acknowledged as she was now. Other feelings that Melina couldn’t voice, lest she tempted fate. One that she would think about, dissect later at night when she was left to her thoughts as company. However, for now, she would stay in the presence of this vision for just a little longer, to memorize the one who gave her the gift of a story of her own.
To face such an image, a bard so beautiful that she had to be blessed by Aphrodite herself, Melina felt both honor and sadness. Sadness that she would never match up to such a vision, that she would always be a partially-developed swan that was lacking confidence as well as grace to tie it together. A permanent wallflower. Please stay for a little while longer, as if Melina pleaded with the gods just to have this moment where she was acknowledged before slipping into the shadows. Please.
Compliments were unexpected, drawing a hint of color to her cheeks that were clearly not because of the wine. “I find that reading legends of faraway lands fill me with great delight.” Reading itself was a solace, but at the servant’s ever-observant gaze, Melina found herself unable to say the true reason. That she longed to be part of the story, to find her own adventure. It wasn’t that being a noble was boring, in fact, she knew her place. But, to imagine herself in the steps of one well-traveled, to see marvelous sights, to face great perils, now that was something that kept her going.
Fingertips trembled as they made contact with the vision’s lips, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Why such a complimentary greeting? Why me? Melina didn’t understand. She couldn’t dare to speak of what tumult of emotions she was experiencing. She wanted to impress this nymph, no this siren, even if she was left crashing into the rocks below. Yet, she was cursed with self-loathing, despite her great admiration of this new acquaintance. The servant watching began to clear her throat, drawing Melina away from the moment and instead into the present. Releasing her own hand was difficult, for she wanted to explore what surely had been a hand well-traveled as if it had some secrets to tell as well.
Perhaps the wine was getting to her. Unlike her father, Melina had a weaker tolerance and feared that she would do something silly if she drank anymore. Waiting with bated breath, despite patience being one of her strong-suits, dark eyes found entrancing hazel. When the answer finally came, she had to hide her smile behind another sip of wine, lest rumors began circling of a noble too swept by the story. Already she could hear the buzzing hive around her, the hushed silence as they recognized who the absorbed noble was. Fotios, her father, was a scary man to many, so rumors often died as swiftly as they came. Not even her name escaped, lest the gossipers faced the Head of House’s wrath.
Lowering the goblet, the sweetness teasing her tongue along with the even sweeter words of Anastasia herself, Melina felt privileged at that very moment. A story just for herself and her servant. For once she wished that her servant wasn’t near, but even the young woman knew how foolish such a thought was. For what if the crowds scared her after this image was gone. What if something happened and she brought shame to her family? No, it was better to have an escort with her, even if she longed to hear a tale just for herself alone.
Watching the gathering of coins, ones that the bard didn’t dare to count, Melina allowed the clinking sounds of metal against metal to drag her mind to the present. “No, do not worry, I understand the necessity.” Of course, the tavern itself was a host of this vision, it was quite generous that the woman paid her due. Even to the servant as well. Such generosity made Melina speculate, wondering if she could have such a wondrous being as a friend, yet she had to silence that thought before it went further. Clearly, the wine was getting to her head. Father would not approve of her frolicking with bards, even if he humored her insistence to learn tales of the world beyond them.
No, it was best to instead treasure what she could have. A story, one for just the three of them to share. Leaning forward in her chair, allowing herself to catch the softened tones of a woven story, she rested her head on her hands. That was where Melina’s knowledge was limited. Tales of today, something her father would rebuke her upon. For what good was knowledge of the past if the present wasn’t included. This was why Eirini, her mother, wanted her to explore the marketplace more often, not only to hear rumors of current events but to understand the current world around them. It wasn’t that Melina was naïve, rather that she missed a lot of events when she contented herself with a dusty tome. However, what else was she supposed to do? Face her fears of unfamiliarity? Although, she seemed to be doing quite well at the moment as the bard spun her a tale of a phantom thief.
Interest filled her at such a tale. A thief, one that rode upon both land and sea, dashing to steal treasures of young and old. Of baubles stolen, though Melina herself wore none unless her mother forced her to. Yet, to hear of such a man scaling walls, a skill that Ariadne might have bestowed upon him. However, to dash upon the waves unscathed? While her servant showed doubt at such a feat, Melina imagined that this man would be one that would traverse the land and sea with treasures so incredibly rare, heirlooms sacred, and jewels sparkling that the land and sea would ache to swallow him whole. Yet, she found herself hoping the mysterious male in these stories would survive, this prince of thieves, not a noble or royalty would be safe if only to help the bard spin rumors and tales anew.
“What a marvelous story, Anastasia.” The name, one that she spoke reverently as if such a tale had awoken an urge of wanderlust. One that prevented her from being able to notice the dancing fingertips teasing her chin until it was too late. Something her servant would rebuke her upon later, how ladies didn’t let commoners touch them. Even if the commoner was attractive and providing entertainment. The servant was about to voice her concerns, yet Melina found her voice, a soft one that was dry with wonder. An honor? What on earth could she do that was more than provide coin?
Tell me your name. Raising from her rested position, the steeple of her hands dropping to her lap, Melina closed her eyes. While she really shouldn’t give away her name, she reasoned that if everyone else in the tavern knew who she was, were, in fact, whispering as they observed once more, only to be shushed by her servant’s glare. So, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for the bard to know as well. “My name is Melina.” In fact, she was sure that this bard could have asked anything of her and she would have provided it, just to hear another tale. Realizing that she was truly lost, a flush returned to her cheeks, as feelings began to awake. Curiosity. Longing to be understood, acknowledged as she was now. Other feelings that Melina couldn’t voice, lest she tempted fate. One that she would think about, dissect later at night when she was left to her thoughts as company. However, for now, she would stay in the presence of this vision for just a little longer, to memorize the one who gave her the gift of a story of her own.
Anastasia was no stranger to the fact that she was beautiful. Once, she could see herself in Melina's shoes, so woefully ignorant of what was in front of them that even the slightest gasp of attention brought a flutter to the chest. Once, for Ana, it'd been a boy named Adrestus. His words poured love into her very soul and brought to her the realization: I am beautiful. And how Ana longed for the moment that she could tell another the same. The servant before them coughed once it seemed that Melina had drifted off entirely, lost and pulled away by the imagination of sensation. The bard wondered, of course, if Melina knew. Sexuality was not so easily explored among the women of Greece, let alone those royals who would marry for status above all else. Love was the prerogative of peasants whose fathers had not consigned them into slavery and to this day the bard resented that aspect of her past.
I am not Calliope of Aetaea, she reminded herself gently before recounting her tale. When she completed it, she was glad to hear the compliment that paid so easily from Melina's lips. It was a heady satisfaction that stirred within her as her name filled the air and seeped into her ear. She seemed not even to notice as Ana's fingertips danced along her chin. The servant seemed utterly beside herself not only at the bard's daring, but the Leventi daughter's allowing it all to happen. It was true that royals were often snooty creatures devoid of respect for those of lower stations in life. It was true that Anastasia was but a commoner, even if the rumours stirred by her own hand of walking the waves as a nymph. She wanted Melina to believe those fables, for the tragic truth was a far less palatable reality to confide in.
Tell me your name. Ana had asked and in the midst of Melina's struggle she was curious to see if she'd obey. It wasn't a question as some of her other words had been. No, Ana had indirectly commanded the royal, and she spared a nervous glance at the servant before she had her answer. A small smile wove itself upon the lips of Anastasia as she drew closer still. The bard was a daring woman, and the servant lay nearly forgotten in the sort of feverish sensation that arose from the exposure of vulnerability that so often was never shared by the men that attracted Ana's attention. Melina of Leventi was a noble derived of jewels or ornate decoration, so much so that the bard was left with little to tremble at. Always, Anastasia found herself weak in the company of gems. It made her feel heat that even the most delicious of men could not manage.
But, it was in the presence of such purity given from the Leventi daughter that Anastasia felt that familiar heat well within her chest. It began first as a shiver that racked her spine, then extended outwards until the whole of her body felt the tingle of nerves. Anastasia no longer felt bound by her anxiety, but as her gaze drifted just slightly lower, to the assets that Melina of Leventi brought along with her, she couldn't quite help herself. As if to calm her own nerves that had begun to manifest, the woman pulled back from her royal companion. She took a breath before allowing the whole goblet of wine to pour down her throat. She drained it so eagerly, quite aware that she broke social norm after social norm with Melina.
But, it's clear that she's interested, too, she mused, feeling a dribble of the sanguine wine pour from one side of her mouth. Even with her thirst satisfied by the wine she felt a dryness in her throat. It was impossible to miss, after all, that Melina of Leventi had her own assets that were hidden beneath her dress. It was easy to see the relative fullness of the woman's breasts, the soft curvature of her body and Ana wondered how it might feel to have it pressed to hers. It was almost magnetic, for Anastasia to see the beauty buried deep within. She pressed forward anew, one arm looping gently about the Leventi. To satisfy her servant, she did not quite touch the woman. Fingertips brushed ever so gently against the chocolate locks of her hair to peel back the strands. She whispered, a soft music to her coo as she repeated the name,
"Melina of Leventi. What a pleasure it is, to make your acquaintance. But, perhaps I've overstayed my welcome? Your servant seems... apprehensive at best," she mused aloud. Playfully, Anastasia pointed her gaze at the servant, hoping beyond hope that Melina might be egged on by that sort of admission. After all, it was her that was the mistress and not the other way around. How she wished she could see some confidence in her. Or if not confidence, then the perpetuation of the flush that cascaded upon her countenance. Shyness and reservedness, after all, did not well suit a woman with an expansive knowledge like Melina possessed.
Or, rather, it did. But Anastasia hated to see the woman in front of her wasted by meekness.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Anastasia was no stranger to the fact that she was beautiful. Once, she could see herself in Melina's shoes, so woefully ignorant of what was in front of them that even the slightest gasp of attention brought a flutter to the chest. Once, for Ana, it'd been a boy named Adrestus. His words poured love into her very soul and brought to her the realization: I am beautiful. And how Ana longed for the moment that she could tell another the same. The servant before them coughed once it seemed that Melina had drifted off entirely, lost and pulled away by the imagination of sensation. The bard wondered, of course, if Melina knew. Sexuality was not so easily explored among the women of Greece, let alone those royals who would marry for status above all else. Love was the prerogative of peasants whose fathers had not consigned them into slavery and to this day the bard resented that aspect of her past.
I am not Calliope of Aetaea, she reminded herself gently before recounting her tale. When she completed it, she was glad to hear the compliment that paid so easily from Melina's lips. It was a heady satisfaction that stirred within her as her name filled the air and seeped into her ear. She seemed not even to notice as Ana's fingertips danced along her chin. The servant seemed utterly beside herself not only at the bard's daring, but the Leventi daughter's allowing it all to happen. It was true that royals were often snooty creatures devoid of respect for those of lower stations in life. It was true that Anastasia was but a commoner, even if the rumours stirred by her own hand of walking the waves as a nymph. She wanted Melina to believe those fables, for the tragic truth was a far less palatable reality to confide in.
Tell me your name. Ana had asked and in the midst of Melina's struggle she was curious to see if she'd obey. It wasn't a question as some of her other words had been. No, Ana had indirectly commanded the royal, and she spared a nervous glance at the servant before she had her answer. A small smile wove itself upon the lips of Anastasia as she drew closer still. The bard was a daring woman, and the servant lay nearly forgotten in the sort of feverish sensation that arose from the exposure of vulnerability that so often was never shared by the men that attracted Ana's attention. Melina of Leventi was a noble derived of jewels or ornate decoration, so much so that the bard was left with little to tremble at. Always, Anastasia found herself weak in the company of gems. It made her feel heat that even the most delicious of men could not manage.
But, it was in the presence of such purity given from the Leventi daughter that Anastasia felt that familiar heat well within her chest. It began first as a shiver that racked her spine, then extended outwards until the whole of her body felt the tingle of nerves. Anastasia no longer felt bound by her anxiety, but as her gaze drifted just slightly lower, to the assets that Melina of Leventi brought along with her, she couldn't quite help herself. As if to calm her own nerves that had begun to manifest, the woman pulled back from her royal companion. She took a breath before allowing the whole goblet of wine to pour down her throat. She drained it so eagerly, quite aware that she broke social norm after social norm with Melina.
But, it's clear that she's interested, too, she mused, feeling a dribble of the sanguine wine pour from one side of her mouth. Even with her thirst satisfied by the wine she felt a dryness in her throat. It was impossible to miss, after all, that Melina of Leventi had her own assets that were hidden beneath her dress. It was easy to see the relative fullness of the woman's breasts, the soft curvature of her body and Ana wondered how it might feel to have it pressed to hers. It was almost magnetic, for Anastasia to see the beauty buried deep within. She pressed forward anew, one arm looping gently about the Leventi. To satisfy her servant, she did not quite touch the woman. Fingertips brushed ever so gently against the chocolate locks of her hair to peel back the strands. She whispered, a soft music to her coo as she repeated the name,
"Melina of Leventi. What a pleasure it is, to make your acquaintance. But, perhaps I've overstayed my welcome? Your servant seems... apprehensive at best," she mused aloud. Playfully, Anastasia pointed her gaze at the servant, hoping beyond hope that Melina might be egged on by that sort of admission. After all, it was her that was the mistress and not the other way around. How she wished she could see some confidence in her. Or if not confidence, then the perpetuation of the flush that cascaded upon her countenance. Shyness and reservedness, after all, did not well suit a woman with an expansive knowledge like Melina possessed.
Or, rather, it did. But Anastasia hated to see the woman in front of her wasted by meekness.
Anastasia was no stranger to the fact that she was beautiful. Once, she could see herself in Melina's shoes, so woefully ignorant of what was in front of them that even the slightest gasp of attention brought a flutter to the chest. Once, for Ana, it'd been a boy named Adrestus. His words poured love into her very soul and brought to her the realization: I am beautiful. And how Ana longed for the moment that she could tell another the same. The servant before them coughed once it seemed that Melina had drifted off entirely, lost and pulled away by the imagination of sensation. The bard wondered, of course, if Melina knew. Sexuality was not so easily explored among the women of Greece, let alone those royals who would marry for status above all else. Love was the prerogative of peasants whose fathers had not consigned them into slavery and to this day the bard resented that aspect of her past.
I am not Calliope of Aetaea, she reminded herself gently before recounting her tale. When she completed it, she was glad to hear the compliment that paid so easily from Melina's lips. It was a heady satisfaction that stirred within her as her name filled the air and seeped into her ear. She seemed not even to notice as Ana's fingertips danced along her chin. The servant seemed utterly beside herself not only at the bard's daring, but the Leventi daughter's allowing it all to happen. It was true that royals were often snooty creatures devoid of respect for those of lower stations in life. It was true that Anastasia was but a commoner, even if the rumours stirred by her own hand of walking the waves as a nymph. She wanted Melina to believe those fables, for the tragic truth was a far less palatable reality to confide in.
Tell me your name. Ana had asked and in the midst of Melina's struggle she was curious to see if she'd obey. It wasn't a question as some of her other words had been. No, Ana had indirectly commanded the royal, and she spared a nervous glance at the servant before she had her answer. A small smile wove itself upon the lips of Anastasia as she drew closer still. The bard was a daring woman, and the servant lay nearly forgotten in the sort of feverish sensation that arose from the exposure of vulnerability that so often was never shared by the men that attracted Ana's attention. Melina of Leventi was a noble derived of jewels or ornate decoration, so much so that the bard was left with little to tremble at. Always, Anastasia found herself weak in the company of gems. It made her feel heat that even the most delicious of men could not manage.
But, it was in the presence of such purity given from the Leventi daughter that Anastasia felt that familiar heat well within her chest. It began first as a shiver that racked her spine, then extended outwards until the whole of her body felt the tingle of nerves. Anastasia no longer felt bound by her anxiety, but as her gaze drifted just slightly lower, to the assets that Melina of Leventi brought along with her, she couldn't quite help herself. As if to calm her own nerves that had begun to manifest, the woman pulled back from her royal companion. She took a breath before allowing the whole goblet of wine to pour down her throat. She drained it so eagerly, quite aware that she broke social norm after social norm with Melina.
But, it's clear that she's interested, too, she mused, feeling a dribble of the sanguine wine pour from one side of her mouth. Even with her thirst satisfied by the wine she felt a dryness in her throat. It was impossible to miss, after all, that Melina of Leventi had her own assets that were hidden beneath her dress. It was easy to see the relative fullness of the woman's breasts, the soft curvature of her body and Ana wondered how it might feel to have it pressed to hers. It was almost magnetic, for Anastasia to see the beauty buried deep within. She pressed forward anew, one arm looping gently about the Leventi. To satisfy her servant, she did not quite touch the woman. Fingertips brushed ever so gently against the chocolate locks of her hair to peel back the strands. She whispered, a soft music to her coo as she repeated the name,
"Melina of Leventi. What a pleasure it is, to make your acquaintance. But, perhaps I've overstayed my welcome? Your servant seems... apprehensive at best," she mused aloud. Playfully, Anastasia pointed her gaze at the servant, hoping beyond hope that Melina might be egged on by that sort of admission. After all, it was her that was the mistress and not the other way around. How she wished she could see some confidence in her. Or if not confidence, then the perpetuation of the flush that cascaded upon her countenance. Shyness and reservedness, after all, did not well suit a woman with an expansive knowledge like Melina possessed.
Or, rather, it did. But Anastasia hated to see the woman in front of her wasted by meekness.
Melina was a stranger to all of these strange sensations. To be seen, acknowledged, as something to gaze upon by a sea nymph before her. No, a siren, that was causing her heart to flutter. What were these strange emotions she was feeling? Words were lost in her throat as she found herself uncertain. Surely this was wrong. When she had returned to reality, the tavern before them, the narrowed eyes she met of her servant reminded her that she had an image to uphold, even if for that moment she didn’t want to uphold it. While she wanted to find love as pure as Orpheus and Eurydice, at some point her father would expect her to marry. The thought that led her shivering at night. Would the person be unknown? Would they be as arrogant as many of the noble houses were? Would Melina even get to decide when they would reach the marriage bed?
All these questions would not be answered, not by herself or her servant. And definitely not by her father. Instead, she found herself letting out a soft sigh as she was stolen away by fantasy, the sound instinct of the gentlest of touches. The bard seemed to know what she was doing, something that put the servant beside herself, never seeing her mistress so utterly relaxed at the touch of another. It almost felt intrusive. Scandalous.
That was when the woman cleared her throat again, drawing Melina away from her thoughts once more. It was difficult leaving her mind, especially when the touches felt nice. Yet, she had to put appearances up. “Please don’t touch me.” Yet her tone suggested the opposite. “I don’t want you to get thrown out.” She felt especially vulnerable, her softness often making her follow her servant’s insistence to obey societal roles. Yet, she felt trapped, her heart caged by the very roles that bound her.
As she introduced herself, at last, she found herself seeking approval from a commoner, something that made her feel rebellious, yet frightened that others would notice. A noble that spellbound from a commoner’s sweet words? Perhaps it was something that came from being one of Lord Fotios’ daughters. After all, her mother was a tavern worker, even if an utterly beautiful one.
None of her beauty was bestowed upon her middle daughter, at least in Melina’s eyes. She was too angular, her breasts too small. Her eyes too slanted and dark. Her clothing too subtle and muted. Melina had constantly seen a list of faults when she looked herself in the mirror, none of which she could fix, even with a dose of confidence like her mother said.
Yet, this woman before her, this stunning vision, seemed positively delighted with her presence. In fact, Melina was as well, though she wouldn’t confess aloud lest her servant insisted that they leave. An insistence that was growing stronger the more bold Anastasia, the bard became.
Yet, Melina didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, to be assessed by the woman, to desperately meet her approval. For what reason, it was suppressed and unknown to Melina herself, yet she felt utterly charmed to be the focus of this vision, one that she was memorizing through every gaze. How her fingers trembled as she itched to run strands through darkened hair as well, hair as dark as the evening itself. Eyes of a rich hazel, and lips of a teasing bow that itched to make her move closer.
Yet, she mustn’t. The internal struggle of doing what was expected versus what she wished was hard to face. She was facing her own Charybdis and Scylla within her own mind. She had to toe the strait most carefully if she wished to gain her parent’s approval yet get the acknowledgment that she desperately craved. Mused words, musical in tone returned her yet again to the siren’s gaze, a soft exhale of surprise meeting she saw the gaze of disapproval from her servant. A plea, one that was unable to be voiced, was swallowed instead by another sip of wine, mouth too dry to even voice what she wanted to say. Should she stay? “My servant is here just to make sure I’m okay, right?” Her voice grew stronger, yet never loud enough to be heard beyond their table. “And I am fine, though perhaps we should…” Melina paused, darkened eyes meeting both her servant’s desperate gaze and the bewitching one of Anastasia, “Stay for a little while longer. Or at the very least, I’d like to see you again.”
To hear such stories, she justified with herself, even as her heart clenched at the justification. No, that wasn’t right, but what was? She just wanted to see this beautiful woman one last time before she disappeared to the sea with Poseidon’s call.
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Melina was a stranger to all of these strange sensations. To be seen, acknowledged, as something to gaze upon by a sea nymph before her. No, a siren, that was causing her heart to flutter. What were these strange emotions she was feeling? Words were lost in her throat as she found herself uncertain. Surely this was wrong. When she had returned to reality, the tavern before them, the narrowed eyes she met of her servant reminded her that she had an image to uphold, even if for that moment she didn’t want to uphold it. While she wanted to find love as pure as Orpheus and Eurydice, at some point her father would expect her to marry. The thought that led her shivering at night. Would the person be unknown? Would they be as arrogant as many of the noble houses were? Would Melina even get to decide when they would reach the marriage bed?
All these questions would not be answered, not by herself or her servant. And definitely not by her father. Instead, she found herself letting out a soft sigh as she was stolen away by fantasy, the sound instinct of the gentlest of touches. The bard seemed to know what she was doing, something that put the servant beside herself, never seeing her mistress so utterly relaxed at the touch of another. It almost felt intrusive. Scandalous.
That was when the woman cleared her throat again, drawing Melina away from her thoughts once more. It was difficult leaving her mind, especially when the touches felt nice. Yet, she had to put appearances up. “Please don’t touch me.” Yet her tone suggested the opposite. “I don’t want you to get thrown out.” She felt especially vulnerable, her softness often making her follow her servant’s insistence to obey societal roles. Yet, she felt trapped, her heart caged by the very roles that bound her.
As she introduced herself, at last, she found herself seeking approval from a commoner, something that made her feel rebellious, yet frightened that others would notice. A noble that spellbound from a commoner’s sweet words? Perhaps it was something that came from being one of Lord Fotios’ daughters. After all, her mother was a tavern worker, even if an utterly beautiful one.
None of her beauty was bestowed upon her middle daughter, at least in Melina’s eyes. She was too angular, her breasts too small. Her eyes too slanted and dark. Her clothing too subtle and muted. Melina had constantly seen a list of faults when she looked herself in the mirror, none of which she could fix, even with a dose of confidence like her mother said.
Yet, this woman before her, this stunning vision, seemed positively delighted with her presence. In fact, Melina was as well, though she wouldn’t confess aloud lest her servant insisted that they leave. An insistence that was growing stronger the more bold Anastasia, the bard became.
Yet, Melina didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, to be assessed by the woman, to desperately meet her approval. For what reason, it was suppressed and unknown to Melina herself, yet she felt utterly charmed to be the focus of this vision, one that she was memorizing through every gaze. How her fingers trembled as she itched to run strands through darkened hair as well, hair as dark as the evening itself. Eyes of a rich hazel, and lips of a teasing bow that itched to make her move closer.
Yet, she mustn’t. The internal struggle of doing what was expected versus what she wished was hard to face. She was facing her own Charybdis and Scylla within her own mind. She had to toe the strait most carefully if she wished to gain her parent’s approval yet get the acknowledgment that she desperately craved. Mused words, musical in tone returned her yet again to the siren’s gaze, a soft exhale of surprise meeting she saw the gaze of disapproval from her servant. A plea, one that was unable to be voiced, was swallowed instead by another sip of wine, mouth too dry to even voice what she wanted to say. Should she stay? “My servant is here just to make sure I’m okay, right?” Her voice grew stronger, yet never loud enough to be heard beyond their table. “And I am fine, though perhaps we should…” Melina paused, darkened eyes meeting both her servant’s desperate gaze and the bewitching one of Anastasia, “Stay for a little while longer. Or at the very least, I’d like to see you again.”
To hear such stories, she justified with herself, even as her heart clenched at the justification. No, that wasn’t right, but what was? She just wanted to see this beautiful woman one last time before she disappeared to the sea with Poseidon’s call.
Melina was a stranger to all of these strange sensations. To be seen, acknowledged, as something to gaze upon by a sea nymph before her. No, a siren, that was causing her heart to flutter. What were these strange emotions she was feeling? Words were lost in her throat as she found herself uncertain. Surely this was wrong. When she had returned to reality, the tavern before them, the narrowed eyes she met of her servant reminded her that she had an image to uphold, even if for that moment she didn’t want to uphold it. While she wanted to find love as pure as Orpheus and Eurydice, at some point her father would expect her to marry. The thought that led her shivering at night. Would the person be unknown? Would they be as arrogant as many of the noble houses were? Would Melina even get to decide when they would reach the marriage bed?
All these questions would not be answered, not by herself or her servant. And definitely not by her father. Instead, she found herself letting out a soft sigh as she was stolen away by fantasy, the sound instinct of the gentlest of touches. The bard seemed to know what she was doing, something that put the servant beside herself, never seeing her mistress so utterly relaxed at the touch of another. It almost felt intrusive. Scandalous.
That was when the woman cleared her throat again, drawing Melina away from her thoughts once more. It was difficult leaving her mind, especially when the touches felt nice. Yet, she had to put appearances up. “Please don’t touch me.” Yet her tone suggested the opposite. “I don’t want you to get thrown out.” She felt especially vulnerable, her softness often making her follow her servant’s insistence to obey societal roles. Yet, she felt trapped, her heart caged by the very roles that bound her.
As she introduced herself, at last, she found herself seeking approval from a commoner, something that made her feel rebellious, yet frightened that others would notice. A noble that spellbound from a commoner’s sweet words? Perhaps it was something that came from being one of Lord Fotios’ daughters. After all, her mother was a tavern worker, even if an utterly beautiful one.
None of her beauty was bestowed upon her middle daughter, at least in Melina’s eyes. She was too angular, her breasts too small. Her eyes too slanted and dark. Her clothing too subtle and muted. Melina had constantly seen a list of faults when she looked herself in the mirror, none of which she could fix, even with a dose of confidence like her mother said.
Yet, this woman before her, this stunning vision, seemed positively delighted with her presence. In fact, Melina was as well, though she wouldn’t confess aloud lest her servant insisted that they leave. An insistence that was growing stronger the more bold Anastasia, the bard became.
Yet, Melina didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, to be assessed by the woman, to desperately meet her approval. For what reason, it was suppressed and unknown to Melina herself, yet she felt utterly charmed to be the focus of this vision, one that she was memorizing through every gaze. How her fingers trembled as she itched to run strands through darkened hair as well, hair as dark as the evening itself. Eyes of a rich hazel, and lips of a teasing bow that itched to make her move closer.
Yet, she mustn’t. The internal struggle of doing what was expected versus what she wished was hard to face. She was facing her own Charybdis and Scylla within her own mind. She had to toe the strait most carefully if she wished to gain her parent’s approval yet get the acknowledgment that she desperately craved. Mused words, musical in tone returned her yet again to the siren’s gaze, a soft exhale of surprise meeting she saw the gaze of disapproval from her servant. A plea, one that was unable to be voiced, was swallowed instead by another sip of wine, mouth too dry to even voice what she wanted to say. Should she stay? “My servant is here just to make sure I’m okay, right?” Her voice grew stronger, yet never loud enough to be heard beyond their table. “And I am fine, though perhaps we should…” Melina paused, darkened eyes meeting both her servant’s desperate gaze and the bewitching one of Anastasia, “Stay for a little while longer. Or at the very least, I’d like to see you again.”
To hear such stories, she justified with herself, even as her heart clenched at the justification. No, that wasn’t right, but what was? She just wanted to see this beautiful woman one last time before she disappeared to the sea with Poseidon’s call.
Please don't touch me.
The words sounded heated and insincere despite the sentence that followed. It was apparent to Anastasia that the royal in front of her was embroiled in conflict, so twisted in her desires and the rigid standards with which a woman in her position was held. She thought back to the life she'd known as Calliope and believed she understood well enough. This woman perhaps had not seen the horrors and experienced the brutalizing pain of violation again and again, but she'd been choked out of her resistance by a sort of trauma, yet. She could only imagine the wrath of Fotious of Leventi, a rigid man and one of the patriarchs of the royal houses of Taengea itself. This was no mere girl frightened of the world. Melina of Leventi was a victim of circumstances and unlike Calliope of Aetaea, no boat would guarantee her freedom.
Ana's throat vibrated with gentle music, a soft coo that drew no louder but carried mellifluously just for Melina and her servant to hear. She shifted in her chair as a hand rose up, intent upon turning Melina's gaze to meet her own. Hazel eyes met those orbs of chocolate, her striking gaze intent upon boring into the very soul of the unfortunate royal in front of her. Then, she smiled. Bright teeth were submitted to Melina's scrutiny as sympathy materialized upon Anastasia's lips. Then, she spoke, and the words were softer still. She did not need the servant to hear what she had for Melina to know.
"The song of a sea nymph is a powerful thing, Lady Melina of Leventi. Your fear for my safety, truly, is appreciated. But, I can take care of myself. One doesn't venture between the Charybdis and the Scylla without the fortitude to handle it."
It was such a beautiful thing to see Melina flourish under her attentions. Yes, the young royal was flustered. Yes, the woman was dazzled by the sight and sound of the bard. But, she was speaking. She was wanting. Anastasia of the Siren's Song wondered if this lovely royal knew anything of her assets, of the fortune the man that claimed her hand would have for the presence of her. Truly, the bard wished to enlighten her. Truly, she wished she could have Melina see what Ana saw in her. Never before had Anastasia felt such a powerful connection to someone. Deep within the once rotted heart within her chest she felt the stir of affection. She pined for Melina to understand, but she'd need to sway the servant to her side.
Once more, Anastasia poured to fill her glass. At the same time, she sought to tide over Melina's. The influence of wine was a powerful thing. It could draw words from even the most tight-lipped of men. It could coax sensation from even the most reserved of women and Anastasia was counting on that fact. She raised her goblet in toast for the delightful royal before she tipped her head back and claimed several sips of the freshly poured tincture. Then, Anastasia made her move. The woman allowed her digits to pilfer into Melina's hair. She drew her close to press her lips to the royal's right cheekbone. Then, she murmured in her ear,
"I think, Lady Melina, that your servant can see that you're just fine. Has she ever seen you so talkative to a stranger? If you'd like, you can dismiss her and I will personally assure your delivery to the Leventi manor before it reaches too late into the evening. I can tell you stories, if you'd like. But, we can also leave this place. We can take a walk in the cool evening air and allow the worries that take place under the sun to wash away. Is that... agreeable?"
Anastasia was worried that the servant was being too restrictive of her ward. She was concerned and rightfully so that the royal in her grasp was sheltered beyond a point of health for her. Even if it was just for the night, Anastasia wanted to show this woman the pleasure of liberation. She craved for her to understand what it was to be free. Ana, after all, had known freedom for six years.
Those six years had turned a caged bird into a goddess under the tides.
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Please don't touch me.
The words sounded heated and insincere despite the sentence that followed. It was apparent to Anastasia that the royal in front of her was embroiled in conflict, so twisted in her desires and the rigid standards with which a woman in her position was held. She thought back to the life she'd known as Calliope and believed she understood well enough. This woman perhaps had not seen the horrors and experienced the brutalizing pain of violation again and again, but she'd been choked out of her resistance by a sort of trauma, yet. She could only imagine the wrath of Fotious of Leventi, a rigid man and one of the patriarchs of the royal houses of Taengea itself. This was no mere girl frightened of the world. Melina of Leventi was a victim of circumstances and unlike Calliope of Aetaea, no boat would guarantee her freedom.
Ana's throat vibrated with gentle music, a soft coo that drew no louder but carried mellifluously just for Melina and her servant to hear. She shifted in her chair as a hand rose up, intent upon turning Melina's gaze to meet her own. Hazel eyes met those orbs of chocolate, her striking gaze intent upon boring into the very soul of the unfortunate royal in front of her. Then, she smiled. Bright teeth were submitted to Melina's scrutiny as sympathy materialized upon Anastasia's lips. Then, she spoke, and the words were softer still. She did not need the servant to hear what she had for Melina to know.
"The song of a sea nymph is a powerful thing, Lady Melina of Leventi. Your fear for my safety, truly, is appreciated. But, I can take care of myself. One doesn't venture between the Charybdis and the Scylla without the fortitude to handle it."
It was such a beautiful thing to see Melina flourish under her attentions. Yes, the young royal was flustered. Yes, the woman was dazzled by the sight and sound of the bard. But, she was speaking. She was wanting. Anastasia of the Siren's Song wondered if this lovely royal knew anything of her assets, of the fortune the man that claimed her hand would have for the presence of her. Truly, the bard wished to enlighten her. Truly, she wished she could have Melina see what Ana saw in her. Never before had Anastasia felt such a powerful connection to someone. Deep within the once rotted heart within her chest she felt the stir of affection. She pined for Melina to understand, but she'd need to sway the servant to her side.
Once more, Anastasia poured to fill her glass. At the same time, she sought to tide over Melina's. The influence of wine was a powerful thing. It could draw words from even the most tight-lipped of men. It could coax sensation from even the most reserved of women and Anastasia was counting on that fact. She raised her goblet in toast for the delightful royal before she tipped her head back and claimed several sips of the freshly poured tincture. Then, Anastasia made her move. The woman allowed her digits to pilfer into Melina's hair. She drew her close to press her lips to the royal's right cheekbone. Then, she murmured in her ear,
"I think, Lady Melina, that your servant can see that you're just fine. Has she ever seen you so talkative to a stranger? If you'd like, you can dismiss her and I will personally assure your delivery to the Leventi manor before it reaches too late into the evening. I can tell you stories, if you'd like. But, we can also leave this place. We can take a walk in the cool evening air and allow the worries that take place under the sun to wash away. Is that... agreeable?"
Anastasia was worried that the servant was being too restrictive of her ward. She was concerned and rightfully so that the royal in her grasp was sheltered beyond a point of health for her. Even if it was just for the night, Anastasia wanted to show this woman the pleasure of liberation. She craved for her to understand what it was to be free. Ana, after all, had known freedom for six years.
Those six years had turned a caged bird into a goddess under the tides.
Please don't touch me.
The words sounded heated and insincere despite the sentence that followed. It was apparent to Anastasia that the royal in front of her was embroiled in conflict, so twisted in her desires and the rigid standards with which a woman in her position was held. She thought back to the life she'd known as Calliope and believed she understood well enough. This woman perhaps had not seen the horrors and experienced the brutalizing pain of violation again and again, but she'd been choked out of her resistance by a sort of trauma, yet. She could only imagine the wrath of Fotious of Leventi, a rigid man and one of the patriarchs of the royal houses of Taengea itself. This was no mere girl frightened of the world. Melina of Leventi was a victim of circumstances and unlike Calliope of Aetaea, no boat would guarantee her freedom.
Ana's throat vibrated with gentle music, a soft coo that drew no louder but carried mellifluously just for Melina and her servant to hear. She shifted in her chair as a hand rose up, intent upon turning Melina's gaze to meet her own. Hazel eyes met those orbs of chocolate, her striking gaze intent upon boring into the very soul of the unfortunate royal in front of her. Then, she smiled. Bright teeth were submitted to Melina's scrutiny as sympathy materialized upon Anastasia's lips. Then, she spoke, and the words were softer still. She did not need the servant to hear what she had for Melina to know.
"The song of a sea nymph is a powerful thing, Lady Melina of Leventi. Your fear for my safety, truly, is appreciated. But, I can take care of myself. One doesn't venture between the Charybdis and the Scylla without the fortitude to handle it."
It was such a beautiful thing to see Melina flourish under her attentions. Yes, the young royal was flustered. Yes, the woman was dazzled by the sight and sound of the bard. But, she was speaking. She was wanting. Anastasia of the Siren's Song wondered if this lovely royal knew anything of her assets, of the fortune the man that claimed her hand would have for the presence of her. Truly, the bard wished to enlighten her. Truly, she wished she could have Melina see what Ana saw in her. Never before had Anastasia felt such a powerful connection to someone. Deep within the once rotted heart within her chest she felt the stir of affection. She pined for Melina to understand, but she'd need to sway the servant to her side.
Once more, Anastasia poured to fill her glass. At the same time, she sought to tide over Melina's. The influence of wine was a powerful thing. It could draw words from even the most tight-lipped of men. It could coax sensation from even the most reserved of women and Anastasia was counting on that fact. She raised her goblet in toast for the delightful royal before she tipped her head back and claimed several sips of the freshly poured tincture. Then, Anastasia made her move. The woman allowed her digits to pilfer into Melina's hair. She drew her close to press her lips to the royal's right cheekbone. Then, she murmured in her ear,
"I think, Lady Melina, that your servant can see that you're just fine. Has she ever seen you so talkative to a stranger? If you'd like, you can dismiss her and I will personally assure your delivery to the Leventi manor before it reaches too late into the evening. I can tell you stories, if you'd like. But, we can also leave this place. We can take a walk in the cool evening air and allow the worries that take place under the sun to wash away. Is that... agreeable?"
Anastasia was worried that the servant was being too restrictive of her ward. She was concerned and rightfully so that the royal in her grasp was sheltered beyond a point of health for her. Even if it was just for the night, Anastasia wanted to show this woman the pleasure of liberation. She craved for her to understand what it was to be free. Ana, after all, had known freedom for six years.
Those six years had turned a caged bird into a goddess under the tides.
Please don’t stop.
Those were the words she wanted to say, yet a sense of propriety of well-nurturing reared its head, forcing her to say that which she wished not to. It was obvious that Melina was lying, her soft voice heated with a sense of longing. But for what? More stories? What on earth could she be longing for? Soft breaths escaped her lungs as she licked her lips, chasing after the taste of wine. This woman is so free to do as she wishes, how I wish I could partake in such freedom too, but that will never be. Still, I can listen to her stories, be in her company for a little while longer, surely?
A soft coo escaped the siren, a sound that reminded Melina of a gentle bird she had once seen on her father’s estate. A dove. How the dove had visited, a sight to behold, before spreading its wings and flying away. Something Melina could never do. She was expected to marry at some point, to provide an heir, and ultimately follow societal rules. There was no room for happiness or listening to bards. These thoughts threatened to drown her, already feeling the unforgiving rock that Scylla lived under drawing her closer.
However, before she could drown, a hand made itself known to her peripherals, muddy brown meeting hazel. The gaze was intense, as if the woman was searching for something, and Melina was unable to do anything but bear her very soul to the woman to see. Anxiety wrecked the poor noble, fear that just as she never measured up to anyone else’s expectations, that she would fail this bard as well. A smile was not the expected answer.
Nor were the words. A harsh exhale of breath, relief that Melina didn’t know that she was holding in escaped her. Indeed, this woman would be safe. She would survive the voyage. Now, could Melina say the same? Not the way she was now. I wish this moment would never end. Yet such a naïve thought, considering the words of her servant entering her ears, darkened curls making contact with her own straight locks.
-This is getting dangerous, my lady. Perhaps we should go.- For once, Melina wanted to protest, as if she knew what she was doing, that she was not succumbing to the wiles of a woman. Not that Melina knew that herself. Closing her eyes, she gazed at Anastasia, watching her refill both their goblets. A gulp escaped her. No, she wanted to drink, to have the sweet taste of wine on her lips along with the tales in her ears. Which brought her to the current predicament. What should she do with her servant? Should she dismiss her? It was obvious the servant was growing agitated and that was making Melina more anxious as a result.
Father would disapprove. Mother would be disappointed, and I don’t even know what Agape and Dafni would think. Still, even as she brought the goblet to her lips, the flush of drink ever-present on her lips, she found herself feeling the urge to do something reckless. Not something dishonorable, but simply an urge of rebellion. She wanted to see what this evening would bring. Yes, she was doing fine. More than well. Even though if she were soberer, the Leventi woman would have been more alarmed. Yet, I want to talk to her more. I want to feast my eyes on her beauty even through the setting sun. I want.
As lips pressed to her cheekbone, the goblet lowered with shaking hands. I want. Her mind practically shut down before it could utter another thought, so hypnotized was she that all she could find herself doing was nodding until the bard pulled back. “I think I should go outside and get some air.”
Her voice grew a bit in volume, not enough for surrounding tables to hear, but enough for her servant to hear. “I know that you like to catch up on gossip when you aren’t watching me. Enjoy the night. Talk with the tavern servants. Eat, drink, and be merry as Dionysus would say.”
Drawing closer, she slipped some coins into her servant’s hands. “Just don’t tell anyone. I want to be able to say I was confident enough to make a new friend.”
Narrowed eyes were what met her, yet Melina stood her ground, flushed cheeks overly bright and hopeful. -I hope you know what you are doing, my lady because I don’t trust her one bit. Especially not with you.- Rising to her feet, the servant gave Anastasia an assessing look of judgment before sniffing and walking away.
Meeting Anastasia’s gaze with her own shy one, she found herself drinking a little bit more as if trying to swallow her shame as she watched her servant’s parting back. “Perhaps that was a bit too much. She was only trying to help.” Doubt was already taking over what bravado she had at that moment, the young woman gazing down at her wine with a sigh. Still, this was the first time that she thought that the servant was wrong. For surely a bard was trustworthy enough. It wasn’t like Melina was planning anything more than converse. Or that was what she thought.
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Please don’t stop.
Those were the words she wanted to say, yet a sense of propriety of well-nurturing reared its head, forcing her to say that which she wished not to. It was obvious that Melina was lying, her soft voice heated with a sense of longing. But for what? More stories? What on earth could she be longing for? Soft breaths escaped her lungs as she licked her lips, chasing after the taste of wine. This woman is so free to do as she wishes, how I wish I could partake in such freedom too, but that will never be. Still, I can listen to her stories, be in her company for a little while longer, surely?
A soft coo escaped the siren, a sound that reminded Melina of a gentle bird she had once seen on her father’s estate. A dove. How the dove had visited, a sight to behold, before spreading its wings and flying away. Something Melina could never do. She was expected to marry at some point, to provide an heir, and ultimately follow societal rules. There was no room for happiness or listening to bards. These thoughts threatened to drown her, already feeling the unforgiving rock that Scylla lived under drawing her closer.
However, before she could drown, a hand made itself known to her peripherals, muddy brown meeting hazel. The gaze was intense, as if the woman was searching for something, and Melina was unable to do anything but bear her very soul to the woman to see. Anxiety wrecked the poor noble, fear that just as she never measured up to anyone else’s expectations, that she would fail this bard as well. A smile was not the expected answer.
Nor were the words. A harsh exhale of breath, relief that Melina didn’t know that she was holding in escaped her. Indeed, this woman would be safe. She would survive the voyage. Now, could Melina say the same? Not the way she was now. I wish this moment would never end. Yet such a naïve thought, considering the words of her servant entering her ears, darkened curls making contact with her own straight locks.
-This is getting dangerous, my lady. Perhaps we should go.- For once, Melina wanted to protest, as if she knew what she was doing, that she was not succumbing to the wiles of a woman. Not that Melina knew that herself. Closing her eyes, she gazed at Anastasia, watching her refill both their goblets. A gulp escaped her. No, she wanted to drink, to have the sweet taste of wine on her lips along with the tales in her ears. Which brought her to the current predicament. What should she do with her servant? Should she dismiss her? It was obvious the servant was growing agitated and that was making Melina more anxious as a result.
Father would disapprove. Mother would be disappointed, and I don’t even know what Agape and Dafni would think. Still, even as she brought the goblet to her lips, the flush of drink ever-present on her lips, she found herself feeling the urge to do something reckless. Not something dishonorable, but simply an urge of rebellion. She wanted to see what this evening would bring. Yes, she was doing fine. More than well. Even though if she were soberer, the Leventi woman would have been more alarmed. Yet, I want to talk to her more. I want to feast my eyes on her beauty even through the setting sun. I want.
As lips pressed to her cheekbone, the goblet lowered with shaking hands. I want. Her mind practically shut down before it could utter another thought, so hypnotized was she that all she could find herself doing was nodding until the bard pulled back. “I think I should go outside and get some air.”
Her voice grew a bit in volume, not enough for surrounding tables to hear, but enough for her servant to hear. “I know that you like to catch up on gossip when you aren’t watching me. Enjoy the night. Talk with the tavern servants. Eat, drink, and be merry as Dionysus would say.”
Drawing closer, she slipped some coins into her servant’s hands. “Just don’t tell anyone. I want to be able to say I was confident enough to make a new friend.”
Narrowed eyes were what met her, yet Melina stood her ground, flushed cheeks overly bright and hopeful. -I hope you know what you are doing, my lady because I don’t trust her one bit. Especially not with you.- Rising to her feet, the servant gave Anastasia an assessing look of judgment before sniffing and walking away.
Meeting Anastasia’s gaze with her own shy one, she found herself drinking a little bit more as if trying to swallow her shame as she watched her servant’s parting back. “Perhaps that was a bit too much. She was only trying to help.” Doubt was already taking over what bravado she had at that moment, the young woman gazing down at her wine with a sigh. Still, this was the first time that she thought that the servant was wrong. For surely a bard was trustworthy enough. It wasn’t like Melina was planning anything more than converse. Or that was what she thought.
Please don’t stop.
Those were the words she wanted to say, yet a sense of propriety of well-nurturing reared its head, forcing her to say that which she wished not to. It was obvious that Melina was lying, her soft voice heated with a sense of longing. But for what? More stories? What on earth could she be longing for? Soft breaths escaped her lungs as she licked her lips, chasing after the taste of wine. This woman is so free to do as she wishes, how I wish I could partake in such freedom too, but that will never be. Still, I can listen to her stories, be in her company for a little while longer, surely?
A soft coo escaped the siren, a sound that reminded Melina of a gentle bird she had once seen on her father’s estate. A dove. How the dove had visited, a sight to behold, before spreading its wings and flying away. Something Melina could never do. She was expected to marry at some point, to provide an heir, and ultimately follow societal rules. There was no room for happiness or listening to bards. These thoughts threatened to drown her, already feeling the unforgiving rock that Scylla lived under drawing her closer.
However, before she could drown, a hand made itself known to her peripherals, muddy brown meeting hazel. The gaze was intense, as if the woman was searching for something, and Melina was unable to do anything but bear her very soul to the woman to see. Anxiety wrecked the poor noble, fear that just as she never measured up to anyone else’s expectations, that she would fail this bard as well. A smile was not the expected answer.
Nor were the words. A harsh exhale of breath, relief that Melina didn’t know that she was holding in escaped her. Indeed, this woman would be safe. She would survive the voyage. Now, could Melina say the same? Not the way she was now. I wish this moment would never end. Yet such a naïve thought, considering the words of her servant entering her ears, darkened curls making contact with her own straight locks.
-This is getting dangerous, my lady. Perhaps we should go.- For once, Melina wanted to protest, as if she knew what she was doing, that she was not succumbing to the wiles of a woman. Not that Melina knew that herself. Closing her eyes, she gazed at Anastasia, watching her refill both their goblets. A gulp escaped her. No, she wanted to drink, to have the sweet taste of wine on her lips along with the tales in her ears. Which brought her to the current predicament. What should she do with her servant? Should she dismiss her? It was obvious the servant was growing agitated and that was making Melina more anxious as a result.
Father would disapprove. Mother would be disappointed, and I don’t even know what Agape and Dafni would think. Still, even as she brought the goblet to her lips, the flush of drink ever-present on her lips, she found herself feeling the urge to do something reckless. Not something dishonorable, but simply an urge of rebellion. She wanted to see what this evening would bring. Yes, she was doing fine. More than well. Even though if she were soberer, the Leventi woman would have been more alarmed. Yet, I want to talk to her more. I want to feast my eyes on her beauty even through the setting sun. I want.
As lips pressed to her cheekbone, the goblet lowered with shaking hands. I want. Her mind practically shut down before it could utter another thought, so hypnotized was she that all she could find herself doing was nodding until the bard pulled back. “I think I should go outside and get some air.”
Her voice grew a bit in volume, not enough for surrounding tables to hear, but enough for her servant to hear. “I know that you like to catch up on gossip when you aren’t watching me. Enjoy the night. Talk with the tavern servants. Eat, drink, and be merry as Dionysus would say.”
Drawing closer, she slipped some coins into her servant’s hands. “Just don’t tell anyone. I want to be able to say I was confident enough to make a new friend.”
Narrowed eyes were what met her, yet Melina stood her ground, flushed cheeks overly bright and hopeful. -I hope you know what you are doing, my lady because I don’t trust her one bit. Especially not with you.- Rising to her feet, the servant gave Anastasia an assessing look of judgment before sniffing and walking away.
Meeting Anastasia’s gaze with her own shy one, she found herself drinking a little bit more as if trying to swallow her shame as she watched her servant’s parting back. “Perhaps that was a bit too much. She was only trying to help.” Doubt was already taking over what bravado she had at that moment, the young woman gazing down at her wine with a sigh. Still, this was the first time that she thought that the servant was wrong. For surely a bard was trustworthy enough. It wasn’t like Melina was planning anything more than converse. Or that was what she thought.
The freedom that Anastasia of the Siren's Song had claimed was anything but free. Everything that the woman had ever known, even if it was abuse and rage, was left behind. She'd absconded from the world she knew and was terrified of the prospect of adventure. Beaten and raped into submission by her accursed husband, Alector of Athenia, she'd been but a husk of a human being when the courage to stand up for herself arose from her. Never did Calliope fear for her life. She'd been kept as a toy, ravaged against her will and wrought to the whims of a man, but never did Alector threaten her. Instead, he sought to brainwash her, to pull her deeper and deeper into unwilling lust until all that was left to her was the identity of a doll to be twisted to his pleasure.
That was not my place, she ruminated, and it seemed that Melina of Leventis had the possibility of suffering such a fate. Anastasia internally screamed at the idea of that fate for her, feeling the tick of her heart rise higher and higher the longer she spent in the company of the royal. She studied Melina's face, her lips curved into a grin as she bore the full breadth of who she was to the bard. There was a deep sense of relief that materialized within her breath. However, there was the barrier of defense that sought to pin Melina into her fate. The servant spoke her words, a venom that sought to lull Melina into the submission that Anastasia didn't seek for her. The bard did not resent the idea of submission in the slightest. She gave herself to men and women alike, allowing herself to flourish in the undeniable pleasure of being taken willfully.
How different it is, to bask in the ecstasy of it all, she reflected. The stare in Ana's eyes was venomous in turn, glaring at the servant as the concern for her ward flickered in her gaze. There was fire that swelled within her chest. It rose into a fierce inferno and all that sought to combat it might yet find nothing left of them. Anastasia of the Siren's Song, however, allowed the expression to wilt quickly enough. She would not force her charge into anything, for the very idea of coercion stoked the flames within her chest. It was so apparent within Melina's gaze that she wanted or even needed more from Anastasia. She wasn't sure where that desire would go, but the soul of Calliope of Aetaea within her sought to find companionship within a like-minded woman. A woman that she once was and could feel that wanted to change herself as she did. Shaking hands marked a sort of change in resolution within Melina. She seemed utterly captivated, so lured in by the promises that the bard lauded upon her, the unspoken praises that she showered her in. More than anything else in this world, what Anastasia could offer Melina was a realization of self.
We are the same, she wanted to tell her. She wanted to throw away the lies and deceit that she'd poured into reality over the year. Anastasia of the Siren's Song was a mortal woman who had taken the initiative to turn herself into an immortal goddess. And there was more to expand upon in her legend. She sought immortality, she sought renown. She sought the riches and opulence of the world so that she might yet never worry about being coerced again. Anastasia sought independence for in that independence one might truly know the meaning of peace.
I think I should go outside and get some air.
It was a start. The woman who called herself a siren did not react to the words her companion had for her servant. She instead blew a kiss at Melina before she offered,
"I will wait outside for ten minutes, my dear. Come find me if you'll come join me," she completed with no further comment on the battle waging within Melina. Quickly enough she claimed her reward of the evening, pouring the copious amount of coin into her purse before placing the sack within a satchel she carried with her. She placed two coins on the table to pay for the bronze goblet she planned to take with her. Then, she turned her head, blowing yet another kiss but this time to the server behind the counter of the bar. The bottle she claimed next was nearly half full, and she'd already purchased it in full. Anastasia of the Siren's Song allowed one final look at her intriguing companion before she dismissed herself.
The bard raised her goblet to her lips, feeling the delicious swerve of her step. She was growing intoxicated, but she kept her wits about her in a sufficient capacity. She had every intention, if the beautiful soul sitting at that table decided on joining her, to share the wine and more. She wanted to divulge as much as she could without breaching into the secrets she kept buried within. She wanted to show Melina of Leventis that she was not alone in the world.
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The freedom that Anastasia of the Siren's Song had claimed was anything but free. Everything that the woman had ever known, even if it was abuse and rage, was left behind. She'd absconded from the world she knew and was terrified of the prospect of adventure. Beaten and raped into submission by her accursed husband, Alector of Athenia, she'd been but a husk of a human being when the courage to stand up for herself arose from her. Never did Calliope fear for her life. She'd been kept as a toy, ravaged against her will and wrought to the whims of a man, but never did Alector threaten her. Instead, he sought to brainwash her, to pull her deeper and deeper into unwilling lust until all that was left to her was the identity of a doll to be twisted to his pleasure.
That was not my place, she ruminated, and it seemed that Melina of Leventis had the possibility of suffering such a fate. Anastasia internally screamed at the idea of that fate for her, feeling the tick of her heart rise higher and higher the longer she spent in the company of the royal. She studied Melina's face, her lips curved into a grin as she bore the full breadth of who she was to the bard. There was a deep sense of relief that materialized within her breath. However, there was the barrier of defense that sought to pin Melina into her fate. The servant spoke her words, a venom that sought to lull Melina into the submission that Anastasia didn't seek for her. The bard did not resent the idea of submission in the slightest. She gave herself to men and women alike, allowing herself to flourish in the undeniable pleasure of being taken willfully.
How different it is, to bask in the ecstasy of it all, she reflected. The stare in Ana's eyes was venomous in turn, glaring at the servant as the concern for her ward flickered in her gaze. There was fire that swelled within her chest. It rose into a fierce inferno and all that sought to combat it might yet find nothing left of them. Anastasia of the Siren's Song, however, allowed the expression to wilt quickly enough. She would not force her charge into anything, for the very idea of coercion stoked the flames within her chest. It was so apparent within Melina's gaze that she wanted or even needed more from Anastasia. She wasn't sure where that desire would go, but the soul of Calliope of Aetaea within her sought to find companionship within a like-minded woman. A woman that she once was and could feel that wanted to change herself as she did. Shaking hands marked a sort of change in resolution within Melina. She seemed utterly captivated, so lured in by the promises that the bard lauded upon her, the unspoken praises that she showered her in. More than anything else in this world, what Anastasia could offer Melina was a realization of self.
We are the same, she wanted to tell her. She wanted to throw away the lies and deceit that she'd poured into reality over the year. Anastasia of the Siren's Song was a mortal woman who had taken the initiative to turn herself into an immortal goddess. And there was more to expand upon in her legend. She sought immortality, she sought renown. She sought the riches and opulence of the world so that she might yet never worry about being coerced again. Anastasia sought independence for in that independence one might truly know the meaning of peace.
I think I should go outside and get some air.
It was a start. The woman who called herself a siren did not react to the words her companion had for her servant. She instead blew a kiss at Melina before she offered,
"I will wait outside for ten minutes, my dear. Come find me if you'll come join me," she completed with no further comment on the battle waging within Melina. Quickly enough she claimed her reward of the evening, pouring the copious amount of coin into her purse before placing the sack within a satchel she carried with her. She placed two coins on the table to pay for the bronze goblet she planned to take with her. Then, she turned her head, blowing yet another kiss but this time to the server behind the counter of the bar. The bottle she claimed next was nearly half full, and she'd already purchased it in full. Anastasia of the Siren's Song allowed one final look at her intriguing companion before she dismissed herself.
The bard raised her goblet to her lips, feeling the delicious swerve of her step. She was growing intoxicated, but she kept her wits about her in a sufficient capacity. She had every intention, if the beautiful soul sitting at that table decided on joining her, to share the wine and more. She wanted to divulge as much as she could without breaching into the secrets she kept buried within. She wanted to show Melina of Leventis that she was not alone in the world.
The freedom that Anastasia of the Siren's Song had claimed was anything but free. Everything that the woman had ever known, even if it was abuse and rage, was left behind. She'd absconded from the world she knew and was terrified of the prospect of adventure. Beaten and raped into submission by her accursed husband, Alector of Athenia, she'd been but a husk of a human being when the courage to stand up for herself arose from her. Never did Calliope fear for her life. She'd been kept as a toy, ravaged against her will and wrought to the whims of a man, but never did Alector threaten her. Instead, he sought to brainwash her, to pull her deeper and deeper into unwilling lust until all that was left to her was the identity of a doll to be twisted to his pleasure.
That was not my place, she ruminated, and it seemed that Melina of Leventis had the possibility of suffering such a fate. Anastasia internally screamed at the idea of that fate for her, feeling the tick of her heart rise higher and higher the longer she spent in the company of the royal. She studied Melina's face, her lips curved into a grin as she bore the full breadth of who she was to the bard. There was a deep sense of relief that materialized within her breath. However, there was the barrier of defense that sought to pin Melina into her fate. The servant spoke her words, a venom that sought to lull Melina into the submission that Anastasia didn't seek for her. The bard did not resent the idea of submission in the slightest. She gave herself to men and women alike, allowing herself to flourish in the undeniable pleasure of being taken willfully.
How different it is, to bask in the ecstasy of it all, she reflected. The stare in Ana's eyes was venomous in turn, glaring at the servant as the concern for her ward flickered in her gaze. There was fire that swelled within her chest. It rose into a fierce inferno and all that sought to combat it might yet find nothing left of them. Anastasia of the Siren's Song, however, allowed the expression to wilt quickly enough. She would not force her charge into anything, for the very idea of coercion stoked the flames within her chest. It was so apparent within Melina's gaze that she wanted or even needed more from Anastasia. She wasn't sure where that desire would go, but the soul of Calliope of Aetaea within her sought to find companionship within a like-minded woman. A woman that she once was and could feel that wanted to change herself as she did. Shaking hands marked a sort of change in resolution within Melina. She seemed utterly captivated, so lured in by the promises that the bard lauded upon her, the unspoken praises that she showered her in. More than anything else in this world, what Anastasia could offer Melina was a realization of self.
We are the same, she wanted to tell her. She wanted to throw away the lies and deceit that she'd poured into reality over the year. Anastasia of the Siren's Song was a mortal woman who had taken the initiative to turn herself into an immortal goddess. And there was more to expand upon in her legend. She sought immortality, she sought renown. She sought the riches and opulence of the world so that she might yet never worry about being coerced again. Anastasia sought independence for in that independence one might truly know the meaning of peace.
I think I should go outside and get some air.
It was a start. The woman who called herself a siren did not react to the words her companion had for her servant. She instead blew a kiss at Melina before she offered,
"I will wait outside for ten minutes, my dear. Come find me if you'll come join me," she completed with no further comment on the battle waging within Melina. Quickly enough she claimed her reward of the evening, pouring the copious amount of coin into her purse before placing the sack within a satchel she carried with her. She placed two coins on the table to pay for the bronze goblet she planned to take with her. Then, she turned her head, blowing yet another kiss but this time to the server behind the counter of the bar. The bottle she claimed next was nearly half full, and she'd already purchased it in full. Anastasia of the Siren's Song allowed one final look at her intriguing companion before she dismissed herself.
The bard raised her goblet to her lips, feeling the delicious swerve of her step. She was growing intoxicated, but she kept her wits about her in a sufficient capacity. She had every intention, if the beautiful soul sitting at that table decided on joining her, to share the wine and more. She wanted to divulge as much as she could without breaching into the secrets she kept buried within. She wanted to show Melina of Leventis that she was not alone in the world.
-I hope you know what you are doing, my lady because I don’t trust her one bit.- The words echoed in Melina’s mind, already starting to tear away at what decision she had made. Finding herself wanting nothing more than to fidget, she brought the wine goblet to her lips and took yet another sip. Maybe I should go after her, she looks really mad at me. Her mind was already starting to unravel at the seams. But for once, I felt like I mattered. She smiled at me even as she looked deep into my inner self, without saying a single word.
Was it worth her servant’s ire? That was when Melina remembered herself. She was too kind to that servant, her sisters had said, reminding her once again of status and prestige she had flowing through her veins. Yet, such status and prestige meant that she shouldn’t have been talking for this long with the bard. In fact, she shouldn’t have been doing many things. Allowing the commoner to touch her, to be bold enough to tease at her hair, to kiss her cheek. Those things simply weren’t done. Yet, she found herself unable to resist such touches, in fact, her anxieties lessened. This was odd for Melina since the young woman was often anxious around strangers.
Which made Melina think, could this stranger be someone special to her, then? Besides being a bard? Besides being stunningly beautiful? Cheeks flushed further as her inner turmoil continued. Well, my servant definitely doesn’t approve, in fact, she seemed annoyed that I insisted she keeps quiet. What is she thinking will happen? We are just going to talk.
Yet the venomous glare that the beauteous siren gave back was something that surprised Melina. Why was she rising to my defense? Does she really want my company? Of course, the woman had suggested it herself, but to Melina, she was worried it was due to pity and not because she actually enjoyed speaking to the Leventis. Still, such hazel eyes could hold such a softness to them, a gentleness that Melina had yearned to see for years. Not as if she needed to be coddled, but as if she was protective, caring for Melina despite recently just learning her name.
Time was ticking, the more that Melina fidgeted, the more she recalled that the bard would only weight for her for so much longer. That she had limited time. Each struggle was a challenge, to do what was expected, tread too close to Charybdis, and she would lose this brief feeling of happiness she had felt. Tread to close to the siren and she would crash into Scyllas, the rocks unforgiving as they longed to drag her under the waves.
Though, those kisses. Surely she was not flirting with me? Each blown kiss was taunting, a reminder of what she had to lose. Time spent with a potential acquaintance turned friend. Ten minutes? How much time has passed? How much time is left? And already, she could hear the increase in gossip, an imaginary sound in reality, but to her very real. What if she followed, what whispers would reach her family’s ears. She didn’t want to dishonor them.
However, the second kiss was blown to the server behind the counter of the bar, one that watched the bard’s exit with an intrigued expression. A strange feeling filled Melina after that, a feeling of wanting that kiss instead.
Yet, that didn’t make sense, for it was just a cordial farewell, a bit saucier, yet nothing clearly meant of it. That didn’t make it better to her mind, and as trembling fingers grasped at the heart of her pelos, a muted material, she found herself finally making her decision. Go after her, her mind whispered. You don’t want to keep her waiting.
Even if Scyllas ended up drowning her in the very end, she would still follow, because she was seen for once. She wasn’t overlooked for someone better, someone prettier. No, it was just for herself alone. So, Melina rose to her feet, making her departure as well, however, unlike Anastasia, she didn’t blow a kiss to anyone, for there was no one there that gathered her intrigue and fascination as the woman who was waiting outside the tavern.
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-I hope you know what you are doing, my lady because I don’t trust her one bit.- The words echoed in Melina’s mind, already starting to tear away at what decision she had made. Finding herself wanting nothing more than to fidget, she brought the wine goblet to her lips and took yet another sip. Maybe I should go after her, she looks really mad at me. Her mind was already starting to unravel at the seams. But for once, I felt like I mattered. She smiled at me even as she looked deep into my inner self, without saying a single word.
Was it worth her servant’s ire? That was when Melina remembered herself. She was too kind to that servant, her sisters had said, reminding her once again of status and prestige she had flowing through her veins. Yet, such status and prestige meant that she shouldn’t have been talking for this long with the bard. In fact, she shouldn’t have been doing many things. Allowing the commoner to touch her, to be bold enough to tease at her hair, to kiss her cheek. Those things simply weren’t done. Yet, she found herself unable to resist such touches, in fact, her anxieties lessened. This was odd for Melina since the young woman was often anxious around strangers.
Which made Melina think, could this stranger be someone special to her, then? Besides being a bard? Besides being stunningly beautiful? Cheeks flushed further as her inner turmoil continued. Well, my servant definitely doesn’t approve, in fact, she seemed annoyed that I insisted she keeps quiet. What is she thinking will happen? We are just going to talk.
Yet the venomous glare that the beauteous siren gave back was something that surprised Melina. Why was she rising to my defense? Does she really want my company? Of course, the woman had suggested it herself, but to Melina, she was worried it was due to pity and not because she actually enjoyed speaking to the Leventis. Still, such hazel eyes could hold such a softness to them, a gentleness that Melina had yearned to see for years. Not as if she needed to be coddled, but as if she was protective, caring for Melina despite recently just learning her name.
Time was ticking, the more that Melina fidgeted, the more she recalled that the bard would only weight for her for so much longer. That she had limited time. Each struggle was a challenge, to do what was expected, tread too close to Charybdis, and she would lose this brief feeling of happiness she had felt. Tread to close to the siren and she would crash into Scyllas, the rocks unforgiving as they longed to drag her under the waves.
Though, those kisses. Surely she was not flirting with me? Each blown kiss was taunting, a reminder of what she had to lose. Time spent with a potential acquaintance turned friend. Ten minutes? How much time has passed? How much time is left? And already, she could hear the increase in gossip, an imaginary sound in reality, but to her very real. What if she followed, what whispers would reach her family’s ears. She didn’t want to dishonor them.
However, the second kiss was blown to the server behind the counter of the bar, one that watched the bard’s exit with an intrigued expression. A strange feeling filled Melina after that, a feeling of wanting that kiss instead.
Yet, that didn’t make sense, for it was just a cordial farewell, a bit saucier, yet nothing clearly meant of it. That didn’t make it better to her mind, and as trembling fingers grasped at the heart of her pelos, a muted material, she found herself finally making her decision. Go after her, her mind whispered. You don’t want to keep her waiting.
Even if Scyllas ended up drowning her in the very end, she would still follow, because she was seen for once. She wasn’t overlooked for someone better, someone prettier. No, it was just for herself alone. So, Melina rose to her feet, making her departure as well, however, unlike Anastasia, she didn’t blow a kiss to anyone, for there was no one there that gathered her intrigue and fascination as the woman who was waiting outside the tavern.
-I hope you know what you are doing, my lady because I don’t trust her one bit.- The words echoed in Melina’s mind, already starting to tear away at what decision she had made. Finding herself wanting nothing more than to fidget, she brought the wine goblet to her lips and took yet another sip. Maybe I should go after her, she looks really mad at me. Her mind was already starting to unravel at the seams. But for once, I felt like I mattered. She smiled at me even as she looked deep into my inner self, without saying a single word.
Was it worth her servant’s ire? That was when Melina remembered herself. She was too kind to that servant, her sisters had said, reminding her once again of status and prestige she had flowing through her veins. Yet, such status and prestige meant that she shouldn’t have been talking for this long with the bard. In fact, she shouldn’t have been doing many things. Allowing the commoner to touch her, to be bold enough to tease at her hair, to kiss her cheek. Those things simply weren’t done. Yet, she found herself unable to resist such touches, in fact, her anxieties lessened. This was odd for Melina since the young woman was often anxious around strangers.
Which made Melina think, could this stranger be someone special to her, then? Besides being a bard? Besides being stunningly beautiful? Cheeks flushed further as her inner turmoil continued. Well, my servant definitely doesn’t approve, in fact, she seemed annoyed that I insisted she keeps quiet. What is she thinking will happen? We are just going to talk.
Yet the venomous glare that the beauteous siren gave back was something that surprised Melina. Why was she rising to my defense? Does she really want my company? Of course, the woman had suggested it herself, but to Melina, she was worried it was due to pity and not because she actually enjoyed speaking to the Leventis. Still, such hazel eyes could hold such a softness to them, a gentleness that Melina had yearned to see for years. Not as if she needed to be coddled, but as if she was protective, caring for Melina despite recently just learning her name.
Time was ticking, the more that Melina fidgeted, the more she recalled that the bard would only weight for her for so much longer. That she had limited time. Each struggle was a challenge, to do what was expected, tread too close to Charybdis, and she would lose this brief feeling of happiness she had felt. Tread to close to the siren and she would crash into Scyllas, the rocks unforgiving as they longed to drag her under the waves.
Though, those kisses. Surely she was not flirting with me? Each blown kiss was taunting, a reminder of what she had to lose. Time spent with a potential acquaintance turned friend. Ten minutes? How much time has passed? How much time is left? And already, she could hear the increase in gossip, an imaginary sound in reality, but to her very real. What if she followed, what whispers would reach her family’s ears. She didn’t want to dishonor them.
However, the second kiss was blown to the server behind the counter of the bar, one that watched the bard’s exit with an intrigued expression. A strange feeling filled Melina after that, a feeling of wanting that kiss instead.
Yet, that didn’t make sense, for it was just a cordial farewell, a bit saucier, yet nothing clearly meant of it. That didn’t make it better to her mind, and as trembling fingers grasped at the heart of her pelos, a muted material, she found herself finally making her decision. Go after her, her mind whispered. You don’t want to keep her waiting.
Even if Scyllas ended up drowning her in the very end, she would still follow, because she was seen for once. She wasn’t overlooked for someone better, someone prettier. No, it was just for herself alone. So, Melina rose to her feet, making her departure as well, however, unlike Anastasia, she didn’t blow a kiss to anyone, for there was no one there that gathered her intrigue and fascination as the woman who was waiting outside the tavern.
Truly, Anastasia reveled in the attention brought to her exit. It seemed that the tavern would be less for her departure, and gone were the tales and legends she'd dreamed up in the midst of her time in the centre of it all. Certainly, the bard felt the weight of the coin in her satchel, the riches a sufficient bounty to feed and bathe her for quite some time, yet. It was that delightful Leventi woman, the one Ana waited for, that secured the bard's ability to open up the rest of her night to her. Normally, the avaracious siren would steal into houses, strap down her breasts and bathe herself in black fabric so as to lay claim to the bountiful reward and opulent baubles she craved so very much. However, tonight she may yet sleep draped in coin.
Anastasia had bad habits that were born of her skill and her addiction to the shining trinkets and currency of the world. She laid with jewels adorning her naked body, finding that the solace of sleep only truly came to her in one of two ways. Either she found a warm body to keep her up, then put her to bed. Or she adorned herself with the delicious reward of thievery. Buying jewelry simply wasn't something she could see herself doing, so married to the idea of hoarding her wealth that it seemed an easier task simply to take. Take from whoever she wanted, claim their live's bounty as her own. Anastasia thought on the direction her life went into as she waited, counting down the moments until the aforementioned ten minutes were up.
Will she come? she wondered, an anxious breath in her lungs. She'd hedged a bet, her own desire to spend more time with the lovely girl who reminded her so much of herself leveraged against the idea that this woman needed to stand up for herself. She hoped beyond hope that she'd come to understand, and Anastasia implemented every tool to her knowledge to coax some amount of gall within Melina. Anastasia poured herself another goblet of wine, relishing momentarily in the chill that accompanied the evenings that wrought from the end of the year. A shuddering breath filled her lungs before she let that goblet full of wine pour down her throat. She felt, little by little, the reward that was intoxicating arise within her, her breath steeped in the scents of the liqueur when at last Melina joined her.
Anastasia felt the grin pull at her lips as she languidly stepped forward to enshroud the Leventi heiress into a hug. She placed her lips on the royal's forehead, her daring only waxing higher and higher as the night and her inebriation drew further and further. Once she pulled away from Melina's forehead, the bard drew light fingertips along her jawline, drawing nearer until her lips hovered just shy of her earlobe. Her words were dance between inquisitive and sultry tones as she murmured,
I'm very glad to see you, Lady Melina. But now, we are at an impasse. Your servant is no longer here to 'protect' you from me. So... what shall we do? This city is yours, as is my time. Whatever you want from me, I will give."
The bard fully intended on teasing the royal that accompanied her. Seeing the flush painted upon her lovely face was a pleasure that drew into the deepest parts of Anastasia's soul. Tonight, if the royal would allow her, Anastasia sought to instruct her on just what it was like to let the world fall away and indulge oneself in the freedom that was indifference to authority.
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Truly, Anastasia reveled in the attention brought to her exit. It seemed that the tavern would be less for her departure, and gone were the tales and legends she'd dreamed up in the midst of her time in the centre of it all. Certainly, the bard felt the weight of the coin in her satchel, the riches a sufficient bounty to feed and bathe her for quite some time, yet. It was that delightful Leventi woman, the one Ana waited for, that secured the bard's ability to open up the rest of her night to her. Normally, the avaracious siren would steal into houses, strap down her breasts and bathe herself in black fabric so as to lay claim to the bountiful reward and opulent baubles she craved so very much. However, tonight she may yet sleep draped in coin.
Anastasia had bad habits that were born of her skill and her addiction to the shining trinkets and currency of the world. She laid with jewels adorning her naked body, finding that the solace of sleep only truly came to her in one of two ways. Either she found a warm body to keep her up, then put her to bed. Or she adorned herself with the delicious reward of thievery. Buying jewelry simply wasn't something she could see herself doing, so married to the idea of hoarding her wealth that it seemed an easier task simply to take. Take from whoever she wanted, claim their live's bounty as her own. Anastasia thought on the direction her life went into as she waited, counting down the moments until the aforementioned ten minutes were up.
Will she come? she wondered, an anxious breath in her lungs. She'd hedged a bet, her own desire to spend more time with the lovely girl who reminded her so much of herself leveraged against the idea that this woman needed to stand up for herself. She hoped beyond hope that she'd come to understand, and Anastasia implemented every tool to her knowledge to coax some amount of gall within Melina. Anastasia poured herself another goblet of wine, relishing momentarily in the chill that accompanied the evenings that wrought from the end of the year. A shuddering breath filled her lungs before she let that goblet full of wine pour down her throat. She felt, little by little, the reward that was intoxicating arise within her, her breath steeped in the scents of the liqueur when at last Melina joined her.
Anastasia felt the grin pull at her lips as she languidly stepped forward to enshroud the Leventi heiress into a hug. She placed her lips on the royal's forehead, her daring only waxing higher and higher as the night and her inebriation drew further and further. Once she pulled away from Melina's forehead, the bard drew light fingertips along her jawline, drawing nearer until her lips hovered just shy of her earlobe. Her words were dance between inquisitive and sultry tones as she murmured,
I'm very glad to see you, Lady Melina. But now, we are at an impasse. Your servant is no longer here to 'protect' you from me. So... what shall we do? This city is yours, as is my time. Whatever you want from me, I will give."
The bard fully intended on teasing the royal that accompanied her. Seeing the flush painted upon her lovely face was a pleasure that drew into the deepest parts of Anastasia's soul. Tonight, if the royal would allow her, Anastasia sought to instruct her on just what it was like to let the world fall away and indulge oneself in the freedom that was indifference to authority.
Truly, Anastasia reveled in the attention brought to her exit. It seemed that the tavern would be less for her departure, and gone were the tales and legends she'd dreamed up in the midst of her time in the centre of it all. Certainly, the bard felt the weight of the coin in her satchel, the riches a sufficient bounty to feed and bathe her for quite some time, yet. It was that delightful Leventi woman, the one Ana waited for, that secured the bard's ability to open up the rest of her night to her. Normally, the avaracious siren would steal into houses, strap down her breasts and bathe herself in black fabric so as to lay claim to the bountiful reward and opulent baubles she craved so very much. However, tonight she may yet sleep draped in coin.
Anastasia had bad habits that were born of her skill and her addiction to the shining trinkets and currency of the world. She laid with jewels adorning her naked body, finding that the solace of sleep only truly came to her in one of two ways. Either she found a warm body to keep her up, then put her to bed. Or she adorned herself with the delicious reward of thievery. Buying jewelry simply wasn't something she could see herself doing, so married to the idea of hoarding her wealth that it seemed an easier task simply to take. Take from whoever she wanted, claim their live's bounty as her own. Anastasia thought on the direction her life went into as she waited, counting down the moments until the aforementioned ten minutes were up.
Will she come? she wondered, an anxious breath in her lungs. She'd hedged a bet, her own desire to spend more time with the lovely girl who reminded her so much of herself leveraged against the idea that this woman needed to stand up for herself. She hoped beyond hope that she'd come to understand, and Anastasia implemented every tool to her knowledge to coax some amount of gall within Melina. Anastasia poured herself another goblet of wine, relishing momentarily in the chill that accompanied the evenings that wrought from the end of the year. A shuddering breath filled her lungs before she let that goblet full of wine pour down her throat. She felt, little by little, the reward that was intoxicating arise within her, her breath steeped in the scents of the liqueur when at last Melina joined her.
Anastasia felt the grin pull at her lips as she languidly stepped forward to enshroud the Leventi heiress into a hug. She placed her lips on the royal's forehead, her daring only waxing higher and higher as the night and her inebriation drew further and further. Once she pulled away from Melina's forehead, the bard drew light fingertips along her jawline, drawing nearer until her lips hovered just shy of her earlobe. Her words were dance between inquisitive and sultry tones as she murmured,
I'm very glad to see you, Lady Melina. But now, we are at an impasse. Your servant is no longer here to 'protect' you from me. So... what shall we do? This city is yours, as is my time. Whatever you want from me, I will give."
The bard fully intended on teasing the royal that accompanied her. Seeing the flush painted upon her lovely face was a pleasure that drew into the deepest parts of Anastasia's soul. Tonight, if the royal would allow her, Anastasia sought to instruct her on just what it was like to let the world fall away and indulge oneself in the freedom that was indifference to authority.
Melina sought her courage not to run back into the tavern, yet courage of a liquid kind came to her aid this night. Already, her heart was beating rapidly, her cheeks flushed, as her gaze met the familiar vision. This woman should have been the noble, stealing hearts aplenty, whereas Melina herself could hardly charm anyone. Such negative thoughts threatened to drown her, yet she thought of how for once she had caught someone’s eye.
A woman’s, and that was when it all fell into place. Perhaps if she couldn’t be beautiful, she could be in the company of someone as magnificent as this siren. Soft breaths escaped her as she licked her lips, already wishing she was wearing something more charming. Wishing that she could glimmer in the night as this woman did so naturally. Yet, it wasn’t jealousy, rather it was swift admiration of the feminine form, unknowingly turning to lust.
Please tell me she is still here. Anxiety filled the woman, afraid the image would be gone, long forgotten as she succumbed to feverish dreams. Yet, on a second glance, the familiarity of those dark locks brought a wicked thrill to the woman, a sound of surprise filling her as the vision still waited, even when she could have been too late. She waited for me.
Melina felt a power in such a thought, the rarity of being noticed, considered special. If only she’d stay, as a friend, as something more. Melina hushed the thought, but her mind was already thinking of it. As kindred. Through alcohol, her mind was imaging flesh touching flesh, her gaze widening in surprise at the image. But that is wrong. I’ve never… Yet, the thoughts spun in mocking afterthought, as if teasing her just as this woman would.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I would have understood if you had left.” To be encased in a hug was a surprise, one that found Melina unexpectedly melting into the hold. Muddy brown meeting a rich hazel as lips approached her forward, the Leventi heiress was unable to voice what she wanted to say. Why are you being so nice to me? Why are you so beautiful. Why are you looking at me as if I mattered?
Instead, she voiced something else. “I don’t need protection, not from you.” There was a thrill of danger of being close to someone who was clearly interested in her, even as her mind tried to deny the very thought. I wish those lips would come closer to my own, but we shouldn’t. We mustn’t.“I wish I could be as natural as you.” Fingertips grasped at the woman’s garb, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the bard’s teased her earlobes. “But, what I really want is to be remembered past this night. I know I will remember your stories, your beauty, your kindness, but will you remember me once we part?”
Melina didn’t realize that she was asking for something more than that, even if her soft tone showed desperation in it. “For while you may be a nymph that can ride the seas, I cannot. They swallow me up whole, and I’m often forgotten to the waves and waters below.”
No, she didn’t want to make the bard sad, such a confession shouldn’t have been voiced. “But you noticed me, even for a second, and I’m happy.” However, she knew better than to keep her tongue loose in front of a tavern. People could overhear.
“Let us walk into the sunset as you said, I want…” Lost within the hazel gaze, her muddy brown desperately tried to express what she wanted. I want... Melina had so many wants, so many things she wanted to say that weren’t in hushed whispers. How she wondered how Anastasia looked at night, was she just as beauteous as under the sun’s rays. Fingertips shyly pointed towards a familiar path, one that would lead down to the ever-familiar Grecian waters.
"Can we take a walk together for a little while?" Why was she the one asking when she was sure that Anastasia was the one that should be? Melina was about to scold herself. "Anywhere you want to go, I was just pointing in a general direction." Even if Anastasia didn't know it, Melina was struggling. To not reach out for the hand of the vision before her, to not place lips on her skin. The struggles were deeper than that, however, as Melia craved more than even she truly realized. A friend. A lover. Someone that truly saw her as more than the broken swan she was.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Melina sought her courage not to run back into the tavern, yet courage of a liquid kind came to her aid this night. Already, her heart was beating rapidly, her cheeks flushed, as her gaze met the familiar vision. This woman should have been the noble, stealing hearts aplenty, whereas Melina herself could hardly charm anyone. Such negative thoughts threatened to drown her, yet she thought of how for once she had caught someone’s eye.
A woman’s, and that was when it all fell into place. Perhaps if she couldn’t be beautiful, she could be in the company of someone as magnificent as this siren. Soft breaths escaped her as she licked her lips, already wishing she was wearing something more charming. Wishing that she could glimmer in the night as this woman did so naturally. Yet, it wasn’t jealousy, rather it was swift admiration of the feminine form, unknowingly turning to lust.
Please tell me she is still here. Anxiety filled the woman, afraid the image would be gone, long forgotten as she succumbed to feverish dreams. Yet, on a second glance, the familiarity of those dark locks brought a wicked thrill to the woman, a sound of surprise filling her as the vision still waited, even when she could have been too late. She waited for me.
Melina felt a power in such a thought, the rarity of being noticed, considered special. If only she’d stay, as a friend, as something more. Melina hushed the thought, but her mind was already thinking of it. As kindred. Through alcohol, her mind was imaging flesh touching flesh, her gaze widening in surprise at the image. But that is wrong. I’ve never… Yet, the thoughts spun in mocking afterthought, as if teasing her just as this woman would.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I would have understood if you had left.” To be encased in a hug was a surprise, one that found Melina unexpectedly melting into the hold. Muddy brown meeting a rich hazel as lips approached her forward, the Leventi heiress was unable to voice what she wanted to say. Why are you being so nice to me? Why are you so beautiful. Why are you looking at me as if I mattered?
Instead, she voiced something else. “I don’t need protection, not from you.” There was a thrill of danger of being close to someone who was clearly interested in her, even as her mind tried to deny the very thought. I wish those lips would come closer to my own, but we shouldn’t. We mustn’t.“I wish I could be as natural as you.” Fingertips grasped at the woman’s garb, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the bard’s teased her earlobes. “But, what I really want is to be remembered past this night. I know I will remember your stories, your beauty, your kindness, but will you remember me once we part?”
Melina didn’t realize that she was asking for something more than that, even if her soft tone showed desperation in it. “For while you may be a nymph that can ride the seas, I cannot. They swallow me up whole, and I’m often forgotten to the waves and waters below.”
No, she didn’t want to make the bard sad, such a confession shouldn’t have been voiced. “But you noticed me, even for a second, and I’m happy.” However, she knew better than to keep her tongue loose in front of a tavern. People could overhear.
“Let us walk into the sunset as you said, I want…” Lost within the hazel gaze, her muddy brown desperately tried to express what she wanted. I want... Melina had so many wants, so many things she wanted to say that weren’t in hushed whispers. How she wondered how Anastasia looked at night, was she just as beauteous as under the sun’s rays. Fingertips shyly pointed towards a familiar path, one that would lead down to the ever-familiar Grecian waters.
"Can we take a walk together for a little while?" Why was she the one asking when she was sure that Anastasia was the one that should be? Melina was about to scold herself. "Anywhere you want to go, I was just pointing in a general direction." Even if Anastasia didn't know it, Melina was struggling. To not reach out for the hand of the vision before her, to not place lips on her skin. The struggles were deeper than that, however, as Melia craved more than even she truly realized. A friend. A lover. Someone that truly saw her as more than the broken swan she was.
Melina sought her courage not to run back into the tavern, yet courage of a liquid kind came to her aid this night. Already, her heart was beating rapidly, her cheeks flushed, as her gaze met the familiar vision. This woman should have been the noble, stealing hearts aplenty, whereas Melina herself could hardly charm anyone. Such negative thoughts threatened to drown her, yet she thought of how for once she had caught someone’s eye.
A woman’s, and that was when it all fell into place. Perhaps if she couldn’t be beautiful, she could be in the company of someone as magnificent as this siren. Soft breaths escaped her as she licked her lips, already wishing she was wearing something more charming. Wishing that she could glimmer in the night as this woman did so naturally. Yet, it wasn’t jealousy, rather it was swift admiration of the feminine form, unknowingly turning to lust.
Please tell me she is still here. Anxiety filled the woman, afraid the image would be gone, long forgotten as she succumbed to feverish dreams. Yet, on a second glance, the familiarity of those dark locks brought a wicked thrill to the woman, a sound of surprise filling her as the vision still waited, even when she could have been too late. She waited for me.
Melina felt a power in such a thought, the rarity of being noticed, considered special. If only she’d stay, as a friend, as something more. Melina hushed the thought, but her mind was already thinking of it. As kindred. Through alcohol, her mind was imaging flesh touching flesh, her gaze widening in surprise at the image. But that is wrong. I’ve never… Yet, the thoughts spun in mocking afterthought, as if teasing her just as this woman would.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I would have understood if you had left.” To be encased in a hug was a surprise, one that found Melina unexpectedly melting into the hold. Muddy brown meeting a rich hazel as lips approached her forward, the Leventi heiress was unable to voice what she wanted to say. Why are you being so nice to me? Why are you so beautiful. Why are you looking at me as if I mattered?
Instead, she voiced something else. “I don’t need protection, not from you.” There was a thrill of danger of being close to someone who was clearly interested in her, even as her mind tried to deny the very thought. I wish those lips would come closer to my own, but we shouldn’t. We mustn’t.“I wish I could be as natural as you.” Fingertips grasped at the woman’s garb, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the bard’s teased her earlobes. “But, what I really want is to be remembered past this night. I know I will remember your stories, your beauty, your kindness, but will you remember me once we part?”
Melina didn’t realize that she was asking for something more than that, even if her soft tone showed desperation in it. “For while you may be a nymph that can ride the seas, I cannot. They swallow me up whole, and I’m often forgotten to the waves and waters below.”
No, she didn’t want to make the bard sad, such a confession shouldn’t have been voiced. “But you noticed me, even for a second, and I’m happy.” However, she knew better than to keep her tongue loose in front of a tavern. People could overhear.
“Let us walk into the sunset as you said, I want…” Lost within the hazel gaze, her muddy brown desperately tried to express what she wanted. I want... Melina had so many wants, so many things she wanted to say that weren’t in hushed whispers. How she wondered how Anastasia looked at night, was she just as beauteous as under the sun’s rays. Fingertips shyly pointed towards a familiar path, one that would lead down to the ever-familiar Grecian waters.
"Can we take a walk together for a little while?" Why was she the one asking when she was sure that Anastasia was the one that should be? Melina was about to scold herself. "Anywhere you want to go, I was just pointing in a general direction." Even if Anastasia didn't know it, Melina was struggling. To not reach out for the hand of the vision before her, to not place lips on her skin. The struggles were deeper than that, however, as Melia craved more than even she truly realized. A friend. A lover. Someone that truly saw her as more than the broken swan she was.
There was a palpable catharsis within Anastasia as she spent longer and longer in the presence of Melina of Leventi. Power over men was a simple thing, so did their lusts pile higher and higher in face of the assets the bard possessed. But, power over a royal, a female royal that seemed to pull into her every word and hang on her every movement? Anastasia felt the build, the waxing of desire that saw no end in sight. Intoxication loosened Anastasia's tongue, weakened her resolve and made it all the easier for her to want. The fact that the servant of before had wilted into nonexistence, leaving Melina of Leventis under the ward of the bard...
Perfection.
Anastasia could see the beauty within Melina that the royal could not. She saw beneath her meager dress, a far cry from the ostentatious ensemble that the bard 'siren' draped herself in. When Anastasia pulled Melina into that hug, she relished in the heat of her contact. Fingertips pulled against Anastasia's garb, and she certainly heard the sigh that escaped the royal's lips. Every gentle brush, every sultry tone sought to wind Melina of Leventis tighter and tighter into her hold. How ardent the desire was to bring Melina tighter against her, so that breasts pressed into breasts and lips could seize lips. But, she held herself at bay. It was a heady feeling, the lust that welled within Anastasia of the Siren's Song. But such desire was beyond dangerous. There was no decorum that she wanted to uphold. There was no propriety that she would not betray. As Anastasia wound Melina more tightly, so too did she become embroiled in the heart of her own machinations.
I need you, she thought but wouldn't say. Perhaps Melina could feel the throbbing within her chest. the erratic beat of Ana's heart as she heard the words the royal had to say to her. I don't need protection, not from you. The bard wanted to agree with her. She wanted to believe that every feeling Anastasia so willingly thrust upon Melina was entirely benign. But, they weren't. Desire was a terrible thing, a fire of longing that sought to burn all that surrounded it. It consumed, but Ana was perfectly willing to be consumed. I wish I could be as natural as you, she heard next, and the smile wound easily upon her lips. Anastasia brought her fingers up along the Leventi's shoulder, winding them gently into her hair before, at last she pulled away from her chest.
Will you remember me once we part?
Ana felt her chest implode with the force of that question. She couldn't help but melt into the asking. Her lips parted in low laughter, so quiet that even the royal in her grasp might have trouble interpreting it. Anastasia pulled at Melina's arm, guiding her out of the immediate light of the tavern and into the nearby shadow. Night was drawing closer and closer and Anastasia of the Siren't Song knew exactly where she wanted to be. The bard was stunned into silence as she listened to more and more of Melina's indulgence into word. She'd turned from quiet and anxious to a poet whose words of compliment drew a flush even from the 'siren' holding her wrist. She released that wrist to take hold of the woman's hands, instead. She listed them higher, brushing Melina's fingers against the bard's own cheekbone before she pressed her lips to her wrist. Her interest was impossible to hide, growing bolder and needier with every word that Melina gifted her with.
Anastasia of the Siren's Song did not seek to immediately heed Melina's request. The idea of going to the shores appealed to her tremendously, but not before she gifted Melina with a hint of the bounty that was coming for her. The would-be siren pressed the royal against the shadowed outside wall of the tavern, holding her to it not with her hands but with her chest. Her slight breasts pressed into Melina's, fully feeling that her assets were somewhat larger than her own. Delicious, she mused silently. There were no words for the siren to speak as she wound her digits anew into Melina's hair. Gently she tugged on the strands, intent on bringing the Leventi closer, to wind the both of them so tightly within Ana's own hold that they might never part from the intoxicating embrace. The bottle of wine had dropped to the floor forgotten, and it was a miracle of fate that it did not shatter. However, the sanguine liquid spilled onto the floor, leaving Ana with only one means to further intoxicate herself.
She took one moment to look over Melina of Leventis, those hazel eyes of her capturing the woman's before she allowed herself to draw nearer.
"We'll go in a moment..." she trailed off before lips sought purchase over hers. Anastasia claimed Melina of Leventis in a heated kiss, throwing the both of the into the wall. Her fingers kneaded into Melina's scalp as the other sought to claim purchase upon her lips. Slow encouragement brought the bard to part the other woman's lips, intent on winding her tongue momentarily with Melina's before she pulled away with a shuddering breath that filled her lungs with the sweet scent of the woman that she wanted more than anything else in the world. In that moment, there was only Melina of Leventis. She was not merely noticed, but the eye of the storm.
The bard shifted Melina's head to expose some of her neck, placing her lips upon her flesh in three gentle nudges against her pulse. Then, the bard whispered into Melina's ear,
"Come with me..." she breathed, the sultry tones in her voice wavering with the flurry of exacerbated emotions. To say Anastasia had lost control would be a stretch, but she was losing herself more and more with each passing moment. A grin coursed upon the siren's lips as she turned around, raising her hands to her own hair and fanning out the dark locks before slow steps drew out every movement of her hips for Melina of Leventis to follow. She turned her head back to lay her eyes upon the flustered royal before she closed one eye in a playful wink, one hand raised to wiggle one finger. She called Melina to her, to follow her to their destination as she took them to the beach the royal wanted to visit so badly.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There was a palpable catharsis within Anastasia as she spent longer and longer in the presence of Melina of Leventi. Power over men was a simple thing, so did their lusts pile higher and higher in face of the assets the bard possessed. But, power over a royal, a female royal that seemed to pull into her every word and hang on her every movement? Anastasia felt the build, the waxing of desire that saw no end in sight. Intoxication loosened Anastasia's tongue, weakened her resolve and made it all the easier for her to want. The fact that the servant of before had wilted into nonexistence, leaving Melina of Leventis under the ward of the bard...
Perfection.
Anastasia could see the beauty within Melina that the royal could not. She saw beneath her meager dress, a far cry from the ostentatious ensemble that the bard 'siren' draped herself in. When Anastasia pulled Melina into that hug, she relished in the heat of her contact. Fingertips pulled against Anastasia's garb, and she certainly heard the sigh that escaped the royal's lips. Every gentle brush, every sultry tone sought to wind Melina of Leventis tighter and tighter into her hold. How ardent the desire was to bring Melina tighter against her, so that breasts pressed into breasts and lips could seize lips. But, she held herself at bay. It was a heady feeling, the lust that welled within Anastasia of the Siren's Song. But such desire was beyond dangerous. There was no decorum that she wanted to uphold. There was no propriety that she would not betray. As Anastasia wound Melina more tightly, so too did she become embroiled in the heart of her own machinations.
I need you, she thought but wouldn't say. Perhaps Melina could feel the throbbing within her chest. the erratic beat of Ana's heart as she heard the words the royal had to say to her. I don't need protection, not from you. The bard wanted to agree with her. She wanted to believe that every feeling Anastasia so willingly thrust upon Melina was entirely benign. But, they weren't. Desire was a terrible thing, a fire of longing that sought to burn all that surrounded it. It consumed, but Ana was perfectly willing to be consumed. I wish I could be as natural as you, she heard next, and the smile wound easily upon her lips. Anastasia brought her fingers up along the Leventi's shoulder, winding them gently into her hair before, at last she pulled away from her chest.
Will you remember me once we part?
Ana felt her chest implode with the force of that question. She couldn't help but melt into the asking. Her lips parted in low laughter, so quiet that even the royal in her grasp might have trouble interpreting it. Anastasia pulled at Melina's arm, guiding her out of the immediate light of the tavern and into the nearby shadow. Night was drawing closer and closer and Anastasia of the Siren't Song knew exactly where she wanted to be. The bard was stunned into silence as she listened to more and more of Melina's indulgence into word. She'd turned from quiet and anxious to a poet whose words of compliment drew a flush even from the 'siren' holding her wrist. She released that wrist to take hold of the woman's hands, instead. She listed them higher, brushing Melina's fingers against the bard's own cheekbone before she pressed her lips to her wrist. Her interest was impossible to hide, growing bolder and needier with every word that Melina gifted her with.
Anastasia of the Siren's Song did not seek to immediately heed Melina's request. The idea of going to the shores appealed to her tremendously, but not before she gifted Melina with a hint of the bounty that was coming for her. The would-be siren pressed the royal against the shadowed outside wall of the tavern, holding her to it not with her hands but with her chest. Her slight breasts pressed into Melina's, fully feeling that her assets were somewhat larger than her own. Delicious, she mused silently. There were no words for the siren to speak as she wound her digits anew into Melina's hair. Gently she tugged on the strands, intent on bringing the Leventi closer, to wind the both of them so tightly within Ana's own hold that they might never part from the intoxicating embrace. The bottle of wine had dropped to the floor forgotten, and it was a miracle of fate that it did not shatter. However, the sanguine liquid spilled onto the floor, leaving Ana with only one means to further intoxicate herself.
She took one moment to look over Melina of Leventis, those hazel eyes of her capturing the woman's before she allowed herself to draw nearer.
"We'll go in a moment..." she trailed off before lips sought purchase over hers. Anastasia claimed Melina of Leventis in a heated kiss, throwing the both of the into the wall. Her fingers kneaded into Melina's scalp as the other sought to claim purchase upon her lips. Slow encouragement brought the bard to part the other woman's lips, intent on winding her tongue momentarily with Melina's before she pulled away with a shuddering breath that filled her lungs with the sweet scent of the woman that she wanted more than anything else in the world. In that moment, there was only Melina of Leventis. She was not merely noticed, but the eye of the storm.
The bard shifted Melina's head to expose some of her neck, placing her lips upon her flesh in three gentle nudges against her pulse. Then, the bard whispered into Melina's ear,
"Come with me..." she breathed, the sultry tones in her voice wavering with the flurry of exacerbated emotions. To say Anastasia had lost control would be a stretch, but she was losing herself more and more with each passing moment. A grin coursed upon the siren's lips as she turned around, raising her hands to her own hair and fanning out the dark locks before slow steps drew out every movement of her hips for Melina of Leventis to follow. She turned her head back to lay her eyes upon the flustered royal before she closed one eye in a playful wink, one hand raised to wiggle one finger. She called Melina to her, to follow her to their destination as she took them to the beach the royal wanted to visit so badly.
There was a palpable catharsis within Anastasia as she spent longer and longer in the presence of Melina of Leventi. Power over men was a simple thing, so did their lusts pile higher and higher in face of the assets the bard possessed. But, power over a royal, a female royal that seemed to pull into her every word and hang on her every movement? Anastasia felt the build, the waxing of desire that saw no end in sight. Intoxication loosened Anastasia's tongue, weakened her resolve and made it all the easier for her to want. The fact that the servant of before had wilted into nonexistence, leaving Melina of Leventis under the ward of the bard...
Perfection.
Anastasia could see the beauty within Melina that the royal could not. She saw beneath her meager dress, a far cry from the ostentatious ensemble that the bard 'siren' draped herself in. When Anastasia pulled Melina into that hug, she relished in the heat of her contact. Fingertips pulled against Anastasia's garb, and she certainly heard the sigh that escaped the royal's lips. Every gentle brush, every sultry tone sought to wind Melina of Leventis tighter and tighter into her hold. How ardent the desire was to bring Melina tighter against her, so that breasts pressed into breasts and lips could seize lips. But, she held herself at bay. It was a heady feeling, the lust that welled within Anastasia of the Siren's Song. But such desire was beyond dangerous. There was no decorum that she wanted to uphold. There was no propriety that she would not betray. As Anastasia wound Melina more tightly, so too did she become embroiled in the heart of her own machinations.
I need you, she thought but wouldn't say. Perhaps Melina could feel the throbbing within her chest. the erratic beat of Ana's heart as she heard the words the royal had to say to her. I don't need protection, not from you. The bard wanted to agree with her. She wanted to believe that every feeling Anastasia so willingly thrust upon Melina was entirely benign. But, they weren't. Desire was a terrible thing, a fire of longing that sought to burn all that surrounded it. It consumed, but Ana was perfectly willing to be consumed. I wish I could be as natural as you, she heard next, and the smile wound easily upon her lips. Anastasia brought her fingers up along the Leventi's shoulder, winding them gently into her hair before, at last she pulled away from her chest.
Will you remember me once we part?
Ana felt her chest implode with the force of that question. She couldn't help but melt into the asking. Her lips parted in low laughter, so quiet that even the royal in her grasp might have trouble interpreting it. Anastasia pulled at Melina's arm, guiding her out of the immediate light of the tavern and into the nearby shadow. Night was drawing closer and closer and Anastasia of the Siren't Song knew exactly where she wanted to be. The bard was stunned into silence as she listened to more and more of Melina's indulgence into word. She'd turned from quiet and anxious to a poet whose words of compliment drew a flush even from the 'siren' holding her wrist. She released that wrist to take hold of the woman's hands, instead. She listed them higher, brushing Melina's fingers against the bard's own cheekbone before she pressed her lips to her wrist. Her interest was impossible to hide, growing bolder and needier with every word that Melina gifted her with.
Anastasia of the Siren's Song did not seek to immediately heed Melina's request. The idea of going to the shores appealed to her tremendously, but not before she gifted Melina with a hint of the bounty that was coming for her. The would-be siren pressed the royal against the shadowed outside wall of the tavern, holding her to it not with her hands but with her chest. Her slight breasts pressed into Melina's, fully feeling that her assets were somewhat larger than her own. Delicious, she mused silently. There were no words for the siren to speak as she wound her digits anew into Melina's hair. Gently she tugged on the strands, intent on bringing the Leventi closer, to wind the both of them so tightly within Ana's own hold that they might never part from the intoxicating embrace. The bottle of wine had dropped to the floor forgotten, and it was a miracle of fate that it did not shatter. However, the sanguine liquid spilled onto the floor, leaving Ana with only one means to further intoxicate herself.
She took one moment to look over Melina of Leventis, those hazel eyes of her capturing the woman's before she allowed herself to draw nearer.
"We'll go in a moment..." she trailed off before lips sought purchase over hers. Anastasia claimed Melina of Leventis in a heated kiss, throwing the both of the into the wall. Her fingers kneaded into Melina's scalp as the other sought to claim purchase upon her lips. Slow encouragement brought the bard to part the other woman's lips, intent on winding her tongue momentarily with Melina's before she pulled away with a shuddering breath that filled her lungs with the sweet scent of the woman that she wanted more than anything else in the world. In that moment, there was only Melina of Leventis. She was not merely noticed, but the eye of the storm.
The bard shifted Melina's head to expose some of her neck, placing her lips upon her flesh in three gentle nudges against her pulse. Then, the bard whispered into Melina's ear,
"Come with me..." she breathed, the sultry tones in her voice wavering with the flurry of exacerbated emotions. To say Anastasia had lost control would be a stretch, but she was losing herself more and more with each passing moment. A grin coursed upon the siren's lips as she turned around, raising her hands to her own hair and fanning out the dark locks before slow steps drew out every movement of her hips for Melina of Leventis to follow. She turned her head back to lay her eyes upon the flustered royal before she closed one eye in a playful wink, one hand raised to wiggle one finger. She called Melina to her, to follow her to their destination as she took them to the beach the royal wanted to visit so badly.
It was easy to get lost in the siren’s call, to drift closer to the rocks of Scylla. All the reservations were quieted as muddy brown eyes caught onto the beauty before her. How she wanted, yet Melina didn’t know the true depths. For society was cruel, homosexuality wasn’t even something she learned about from anything other than stories, tragedies of legends whose lives ended way too swiftly.
Yet, Melina couldn’t deny that she was drawn towards the feminine form, especially one as lovely as Anastasia’s. Even garbed, the young woman longed to peel back her garments and see what laid beneath. Would they be similar, different? Such a thought made her fingertips curl into the fabric, another soft gasp escaping her. While Melina could admit that she had deep admiration of the feminine form, the softer curves, the elegance, the utter beauty, there seemed to be a missing piece of the puzzle that she was missing. Perhaps, she wasn’t just comparing herself to her female idols, but rather, she wanted to also be with them. No, that didn’t seem right.
However, despite her swift mental dismissal, none of them drew from Melina the softened gasps that Anastasia of the Siren’s Song did. Every word she had said was spoken true, from the desire that gripped her tightly, a sensation so deep that she was unable to do anything other than thrusting herself into it, allow the tides to carry her away to the wondrous siren she had met. Brushes of fingertips teasing one another as her gaze grew unusually bright. This was what she wanted, Anastasia’s attention. At whatever price. The swiftness of Ana’s heartbeat matched her own, the young woman already losing her decorum. This wasn’t right. She mustn’t.
To outsiders, it would only look like a plainly dressed woman was giving an elegant one a hug. One that could be explained easily through friendship, maybe a departure that would fill both with tears at night. Yet Melina knew the truth. It was more than that, in fact, she knew that as she confessed not needing protection, the intoxication making her bolder from both lust and alcohol.
Surely, Melina would be safe with a bard. This woman traversed safely through Scylla and Charybdis, and the Leventi woman wanted to know. How was she able to defy societal norms in such a way that wasn’t completely scandalous, yet find her happiness in such actions? Melina was trapped to Charybdis, but the offering of approaching Scylla, the thought of not being forgotten by this siren…
It was everything that she wanted. So, she had followed the woman to the shadows of an alleyway, not even thinking about how dangerous this was all becoming. Or perhaps, she knew, but for once didn’t care. Her brightened gaze met that of the siren’s hazel as her whispers grew softer, broken as her hands were lifted towards the heavens only to make contact with the soft skin of Ana’s cheekbone. "Please remember me. Even if it is just for this night.” Even Melina knew it was foolish to ask for more, despite her expression of utter want.
The sound of dripping wine was heard, yet ignored by the pair as they were absorbed in each other. Anastasia grew bolder, drawing a deep blush from Melina as kissed were placed on her right wrist. The feeling of drowning immersed Melina, but for once she was happy to take the plunge, to meet the siren in the unforgiving waves.
-We’ll go in a moment.- Words of going to the beach were long forgotten as lips met her own, a soft moan escaping her lips. The softness of such petal-like lips drew her closer, almost like a bee longing to find its own flower. Melina felt sympathy with that thought and chuckled, something she would eventually share with Anastasia if she dared to ask. A moment, I could stay here forever.
Yet, it became even better as she felt the softness of curves, the fullness of breasts against her chest. Such sensations made her arch against the wall, mouth opening with utter breathlessness that became anew once the bard explored readily. Her tongue delicately teased the woman’s, a soft inquisitive sound escaping her throat. As fingers kneaded into her scalp, her arms sought purchase on the exquisite garb that Ana dressed with.
It ended much too soon, yet both were breathless, Melina utterly struck by the fallen star that must be Anastasia herself. Her pulse grew erratic at the kisses, Melina now wanting nothing more than to cover said neck, so that no one other than the bard herself could place such kisses upon her milky skin.
-Come with me- It was so easy to follow this sea nymph that Melina didn’t even think about her slightly plumper lips. Finally, Melina wanted to make her reasons known why she wanted to take this gorgeous woman to the beach. Romanticisms aside, some that Melina had to admit were genuine after the stolen kisses, there was something about this bard that drew the Leventi heiress to the woman. Familiarity, no, perhaps her vibrant personality as that of a fallen star, one that Melina desperately hoped would never be extinguished.
As she sought to compose herself, the pair drawing out of the alleyway by the other end, growing closer to the beach, Melina found herself whispering the true reason why she wanted to walk the beach. “I wanted to see you under the sunset. I imagine that both Apollo and Artemis themselves bless you under their chariots.” Already, her reason seemed foolish, for she had already seen Anastasia under the darkened shadow, the light of the tavern, and even the evening sun. “I wanted to see off the sea nymph that utterly had stolen my first true kisses. I know that they are free creatures, even if I selfishly stole a moment of their time.” Her eyes, however, seemed to show how much she wanted Anastasia to stay, to share more of those shameful kisses, to feel their bodies pressed against another. To find pleasure in each other's flesh.
Bashful at the fact, clearly alcohol making her reveal more about herself than she should have, Melina found herself giving a shy smile to the bard before following this raven-haired beauty to the familiar sands of the beach.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was easy to get lost in the siren’s call, to drift closer to the rocks of Scylla. All the reservations were quieted as muddy brown eyes caught onto the beauty before her. How she wanted, yet Melina didn’t know the true depths. For society was cruel, homosexuality wasn’t even something she learned about from anything other than stories, tragedies of legends whose lives ended way too swiftly.
Yet, Melina couldn’t deny that she was drawn towards the feminine form, especially one as lovely as Anastasia’s. Even garbed, the young woman longed to peel back her garments and see what laid beneath. Would they be similar, different? Such a thought made her fingertips curl into the fabric, another soft gasp escaping her. While Melina could admit that she had deep admiration of the feminine form, the softer curves, the elegance, the utter beauty, there seemed to be a missing piece of the puzzle that she was missing. Perhaps, she wasn’t just comparing herself to her female idols, but rather, she wanted to also be with them. No, that didn’t seem right.
However, despite her swift mental dismissal, none of them drew from Melina the softened gasps that Anastasia of the Siren’s Song did. Every word she had said was spoken true, from the desire that gripped her tightly, a sensation so deep that she was unable to do anything other than thrusting herself into it, allow the tides to carry her away to the wondrous siren she had met. Brushes of fingertips teasing one another as her gaze grew unusually bright. This was what she wanted, Anastasia’s attention. At whatever price. The swiftness of Ana’s heartbeat matched her own, the young woman already losing her decorum. This wasn’t right. She mustn’t.
To outsiders, it would only look like a plainly dressed woman was giving an elegant one a hug. One that could be explained easily through friendship, maybe a departure that would fill both with tears at night. Yet Melina knew the truth. It was more than that, in fact, she knew that as she confessed not needing protection, the intoxication making her bolder from both lust and alcohol.
Surely, Melina would be safe with a bard. This woman traversed safely through Scylla and Charybdis, and the Leventi woman wanted to know. How was she able to defy societal norms in such a way that wasn’t completely scandalous, yet find her happiness in such actions? Melina was trapped to Charybdis, but the offering of approaching Scylla, the thought of not being forgotten by this siren…
It was everything that she wanted. So, she had followed the woman to the shadows of an alleyway, not even thinking about how dangerous this was all becoming. Or perhaps, she knew, but for once didn’t care. Her brightened gaze met that of the siren’s hazel as her whispers grew softer, broken as her hands were lifted towards the heavens only to make contact with the soft skin of Ana’s cheekbone. "Please remember me. Even if it is just for this night.” Even Melina knew it was foolish to ask for more, despite her expression of utter want.
The sound of dripping wine was heard, yet ignored by the pair as they were absorbed in each other. Anastasia grew bolder, drawing a deep blush from Melina as kissed were placed on her right wrist. The feeling of drowning immersed Melina, but for once she was happy to take the plunge, to meet the siren in the unforgiving waves.
-We’ll go in a moment.- Words of going to the beach were long forgotten as lips met her own, a soft moan escaping her lips. The softness of such petal-like lips drew her closer, almost like a bee longing to find its own flower. Melina felt sympathy with that thought and chuckled, something she would eventually share with Anastasia if she dared to ask. A moment, I could stay here forever.
Yet, it became even better as she felt the softness of curves, the fullness of breasts against her chest. Such sensations made her arch against the wall, mouth opening with utter breathlessness that became anew once the bard explored readily. Her tongue delicately teased the woman’s, a soft inquisitive sound escaping her throat. As fingers kneaded into her scalp, her arms sought purchase on the exquisite garb that Ana dressed with.
It ended much too soon, yet both were breathless, Melina utterly struck by the fallen star that must be Anastasia herself. Her pulse grew erratic at the kisses, Melina now wanting nothing more than to cover said neck, so that no one other than the bard herself could place such kisses upon her milky skin.
-Come with me- It was so easy to follow this sea nymph that Melina didn’t even think about her slightly plumper lips. Finally, Melina wanted to make her reasons known why she wanted to take this gorgeous woman to the beach. Romanticisms aside, some that Melina had to admit were genuine after the stolen kisses, there was something about this bard that drew the Leventi heiress to the woman. Familiarity, no, perhaps her vibrant personality as that of a fallen star, one that Melina desperately hoped would never be extinguished.
As she sought to compose herself, the pair drawing out of the alleyway by the other end, growing closer to the beach, Melina found herself whispering the true reason why she wanted to walk the beach. “I wanted to see you under the sunset. I imagine that both Apollo and Artemis themselves bless you under their chariots.” Already, her reason seemed foolish, for she had already seen Anastasia under the darkened shadow, the light of the tavern, and even the evening sun. “I wanted to see off the sea nymph that utterly had stolen my first true kisses. I know that they are free creatures, even if I selfishly stole a moment of their time.” Her eyes, however, seemed to show how much she wanted Anastasia to stay, to share more of those shameful kisses, to feel their bodies pressed against another. To find pleasure in each other's flesh.
Bashful at the fact, clearly alcohol making her reveal more about herself than she should have, Melina found herself giving a shy smile to the bard before following this raven-haired beauty to the familiar sands of the beach.
It was easy to get lost in the siren’s call, to drift closer to the rocks of Scylla. All the reservations were quieted as muddy brown eyes caught onto the beauty before her. How she wanted, yet Melina didn’t know the true depths. For society was cruel, homosexuality wasn’t even something she learned about from anything other than stories, tragedies of legends whose lives ended way too swiftly.
Yet, Melina couldn’t deny that she was drawn towards the feminine form, especially one as lovely as Anastasia’s. Even garbed, the young woman longed to peel back her garments and see what laid beneath. Would they be similar, different? Such a thought made her fingertips curl into the fabric, another soft gasp escaping her. While Melina could admit that she had deep admiration of the feminine form, the softer curves, the elegance, the utter beauty, there seemed to be a missing piece of the puzzle that she was missing. Perhaps, she wasn’t just comparing herself to her female idols, but rather, she wanted to also be with them. No, that didn’t seem right.
However, despite her swift mental dismissal, none of them drew from Melina the softened gasps that Anastasia of the Siren’s Song did. Every word she had said was spoken true, from the desire that gripped her tightly, a sensation so deep that she was unable to do anything other than thrusting herself into it, allow the tides to carry her away to the wondrous siren she had met. Brushes of fingertips teasing one another as her gaze grew unusually bright. This was what she wanted, Anastasia’s attention. At whatever price. The swiftness of Ana’s heartbeat matched her own, the young woman already losing her decorum. This wasn’t right. She mustn’t.
To outsiders, it would only look like a plainly dressed woman was giving an elegant one a hug. One that could be explained easily through friendship, maybe a departure that would fill both with tears at night. Yet Melina knew the truth. It was more than that, in fact, she knew that as she confessed not needing protection, the intoxication making her bolder from both lust and alcohol.
Surely, Melina would be safe with a bard. This woman traversed safely through Scylla and Charybdis, and the Leventi woman wanted to know. How was she able to defy societal norms in such a way that wasn’t completely scandalous, yet find her happiness in such actions? Melina was trapped to Charybdis, but the offering of approaching Scylla, the thought of not being forgotten by this siren…
It was everything that she wanted. So, she had followed the woman to the shadows of an alleyway, not even thinking about how dangerous this was all becoming. Or perhaps, she knew, but for once didn’t care. Her brightened gaze met that of the siren’s hazel as her whispers grew softer, broken as her hands were lifted towards the heavens only to make contact with the soft skin of Ana’s cheekbone. "Please remember me. Even if it is just for this night.” Even Melina knew it was foolish to ask for more, despite her expression of utter want.
The sound of dripping wine was heard, yet ignored by the pair as they were absorbed in each other. Anastasia grew bolder, drawing a deep blush from Melina as kissed were placed on her right wrist. The feeling of drowning immersed Melina, but for once she was happy to take the plunge, to meet the siren in the unforgiving waves.
-We’ll go in a moment.- Words of going to the beach were long forgotten as lips met her own, a soft moan escaping her lips. The softness of such petal-like lips drew her closer, almost like a bee longing to find its own flower. Melina felt sympathy with that thought and chuckled, something she would eventually share with Anastasia if she dared to ask. A moment, I could stay here forever.
Yet, it became even better as she felt the softness of curves, the fullness of breasts against her chest. Such sensations made her arch against the wall, mouth opening with utter breathlessness that became anew once the bard explored readily. Her tongue delicately teased the woman’s, a soft inquisitive sound escaping her throat. As fingers kneaded into her scalp, her arms sought purchase on the exquisite garb that Ana dressed with.
It ended much too soon, yet both were breathless, Melina utterly struck by the fallen star that must be Anastasia herself. Her pulse grew erratic at the kisses, Melina now wanting nothing more than to cover said neck, so that no one other than the bard herself could place such kisses upon her milky skin.
-Come with me- It was so easy to follow this sea nymph that Melina didn’t even think about her slightly plumper lips. Finally, Melina wanted to make her reasons known why she wanted to take this gorgeous woman to the beach. Romanticisms aside, some that Melina had to admit were genuine after the stolen kisses, there was something about this bard that drew the Leventi heiress to the woman. Familiarity, no, perhaps her vibrant personality as that of a fallen star, one that Melina desperately hoped would never be extinguished.
As she sought to compose herself, the pair drawing out of the alleyway by the other end, growing closer to the beach, Melina found herself whispering the true reason why she wanted to walk the beach. “I wanted to see you under the sunset. I imagine that both Apollo and Artemis themselves bless you under their chariots.” Already, her reason seemed foolish, for she had already seen Anastasia under the darkened shadow, the light of the tavern, and even the evening sun. “I wanted to see off the sea nymph that utterly had stolen my first true kisses. I know that they are free creatures, even if I selfishly stole a moment of their time.” Her eyes, however, seemed to show how much she wanted Anastasia to stay, to share more of those shameful kisses, to feel their bodies pressed against another. To find pleasure in each other's flesh.
Bashful at the fact, clearly alcohol making her reveal more about herself than she should have, Melina found herself giving a shy smile to the bard before following this raven-haired beauty to the familiar sands of the beach.