The harlot was a plaything, yes, but she was quite fiesty. Not many got to actually control her but the two she truly saw as her masters or captors, the two highest superiors. There was the occasional child here and there, but only Basanti had gained her respect, only as blatant fact of her blood and rank; the future Queen of Arcanum. She had seen some of Valentine, one of the earlier and older sons of the sovereign, and he was quite a charmer like his mother, {nearly sarcastically speaking} and each time they had met, it was as simple passerby. It was time she knew of who he really was within. "Oh, what was his name again? Valentine?" Her lyrics were richly accented but held a chime of clarity, echoing about. A coy smile curled her features, as the harlot would fixate herself right where she was. Maybe this man would want to make her a true plaything, but he'd have a bit of a wall to break through before that would even begin to hamper her virginity. Nothing wrong with keeping yourself on the virgin's side, correct?

He watched from the shadow filled belly of a giant shrub. This little white fae seemed to pop up at every turn. He was beginning to doubt his first evaluation of her. Perhaps she was more than a toy after all. Why else would she be so eager to interact? The brute was determined to get to know her. "You would be correct," he rumbled, "Valentine it is." Extricating himself from the tangle of leaves, Valentine emerged from the shadows. His gaze impassive, he let his eyes wander the fae before his next move. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her yet; she wasn't as submissive as a slave should be. Her tendencies were both irksome and intriguing. He was torn over the desire to weaken her. To break or not to break? That was the question. "Well," he murmured, "You asked for me and here I am." "Speaking" -- Thinking

She wasn't quite the 'slave' as much as she was a trophy eager to learn about her fellow superiors. Her voice sang into the bushes, her lyrics much different than the powerful males and females that ran in Arcanum. Wasn't that much a difference or no? From the belly of the bushes, rumbled the massive brute, whose icon towered over hers but was of similar build. "Valentine is quite the name for quite the charmer." A small smile coiled her features before it would fade as quickly as it came, plume swaying behind her, frayed at the ends, but she wasn't vain enough to fix it up, which was likely to the surprise of the slate. The colbalt gaze of the brute retreated from the bushes as he exposed himself to his smaller subordinate. The harlot would patiently wait for his speech to come rumbling like an earthquake once more, ears swiveling forth to welcome the sound rather than showing submission. Her skin was tight, in case he thought this little bitch was fragile. In fact, she was a volatile bomb, seconds ticking away. Minutes seemed to tick by, until his voice would finally sound, requesting of what she had desired. Would this beast fall for the beauty? Or would she truly emerge as just a toy for this giant male to play rough with? "The real question is," A coy smile writhed her features, dissipating quickly. "What do you want from your playthings? Do you play rough or gentle with them?" Ah, she was so curious about this male. Was he the one to beat toys into sense of working like well-oiled gears in a machine, or was he like a father to them, trying hardest not to break the fragile toys that could be.

Her words were sweet, perhaps too much so. It only served to strengthen his distrust of her. There was more to this vixen than she let on, that he was sure of. But what was she, exactly? What were her motives, her ambitions? The brute decided to play the game. He would find out her inner workings one way or another. His face lit up as if flattered by her words. "You're far too kind." Eyes glittering, he moved closer. Each step towards her brought his gaze lower, an effect that was quite common for the massive wolf. It was an effect he liked to use to his advantage. While not particularly useful in a fight, it gave him an undeniable edge on intimidation. She spoke again, asking him a veiled question that sent the corners of his mouth heavenward in a smirk. Ah, it was that kind of game. This he could play. "It depends," he mused, "On the plaything." How would she respond to being pushed? "Some require a delicate touch and others...others can take a beating." "Speaking" -- Thinking

A game of war. Playing each other's cards, giving up bets and exchanges. It was all perfect harmony of life. This slate blue brute seemed to be playing along as well. Both were waiting for te next surprise. Fake flattery flashed upon his features, all to obvious to the harlot from practice spent in the art of craftiness. "No need to be flattered." She batted her eyes playfully, hoping to somewhat infuriate the now approaching man. From his side, came some heat. He may tower over her so, but she wasn't fazed. Though she should be, if she were an average 'slave', but she wasn't average. Just a little extraordinary, correct? With each small approach, came the lowering of his crown so he was able to stay within range of her. Silently, this almost infuriated her. She wasn't that short, but she held her indignation at bay, quietly sitting pretty. So the brute caught onto her game, and he had begun to reach toward the controller and was learning how to work it without thumbs. A wry smile curled his features, as his rumbling voice came, a musing silence between the words. Depending on the plaything, eh? Her haunches shifted as she pushed her forepaws to the tippy toes she could find, craning her neck and whispering into the brute's ear. "You wouldn't play so rough with me, would you?" Perhaps this was the time to not reveal her true age, but her faked age. Nobody would suspect a thing. "I'm just an innocent little girl." Then she would retreat like waves from a beach. Her lyrics were hushed, as she spoke solely to the male. "But could playtime wait until next season?"

Set on playing a dangerous game, the fae would rise to taste the air near his ear. Her nearness set his cheek ablaze with awareness, her breath tickling his ear as she asked him a question. She abandoned their veiled banter, driving straight to the heart of the matter. Of course, this encounter wasn't really about sex. In this game pleasure was just another weapon. How far was she willing to go to get what she wanted? Her words, like velvet, came again. She proclaimed innocence and he believed not a word of it. If she were truly an innocent she wouldn't be speaking to him this way. No, he believed her to be a far filthier creature. It was his turn to push buttons. When she retreated, he followed. Dropping his massive crown, he moved closer in an attempt to whisper into her ear. "To hear my name wailed from your lips would give me the greatest satisfaction." His words, like a double edged sword, were meant to cut through her. Surely she realized that he could do what he wanted with her. More importantly, what exactly was he saying? Perhaps his words weren't so veiled after all. "Speaking" Thinking

Double entendre. So much fun, when played with the right person. And this boy was a perfect contender. Disbelief was written clearly onto the brute, as if a bright red exclamation point was plastered above his skull. Innocence was easily a lie from her. Not many knew of her real intentions, that she was a weasel with a sly and cunning demeanor, writhing slowly toward power. Her words constantly dripped with honey, playing deadly games with stakes higher than one could imagine. Nobody knew what choice she'd make; If she'd rather lose her head or lose her heart. The hulking beast towered over the beast, but she wasn't too concerned with asserting herself if needed. His frame leaned against her, his crown lowered to the lowest it could be, his timbre reverberating through her veldt ears. Her banner slashed through the air as she tipped onto her toes once more, amethysts with hints of submission and defiance, masked with other emotions. "Oh, you are quite the valentine." Her italian lyrics sung through the air, her chest vibrating. Against her ribs, her heart pumped slowly, her blood running normally. "That satisfaction is one you may not hear. There are plenty of other words that I could wail as well." A smirk curled her features, as she shifted, deserting the subject of sex at it's finest. "I won't risk such battles. I know what power you own over me, sir."

Disappointment settled in his chest as the fae backed down. That was not what he had been hoping for. It had been his intention, sure, but not the desired effect. He wanted more fight, more banter...more resistance. Perhaps she wasn't as resilient as he'd thought. He smirked, eyes meeting hers and then stepped away, flowing passed the little fae's right side. It wasn't his intention, but if he should graze her side as he went by, all the better. They were done here. Valentine would keep an eye on her, she was far too mouthy for a slave, but he no longer considered her a threat. "I'll see you around...Empyrea." A threat? Possibly. Or maybe it was a promise. --exit Valentine-- "Speaking" Thinking

To the male, it seemed she had backed off far too soon. It was imminent in his cobalt orbs up until her comment of what words she would wail from her lips. As if the colbalt beast would get her to wail like a banshee for him. Daft beast. A promise would be made from his voice, ushered with a hint of venom as his hulking form retreated into the shadows. As his side barely grazed her posture with his height, she did not flinch once, holding back the desire to bite his rump. Not now to play rough. Maybe after a couple more rounds of their deadly game. "I keep my promises, or I hope to die, Valentine." Those final words came as a vibrating hiss of honey, a promise she'd keep. Quietly, she noted this location. Maybe this boy would come another day, and so would she, for round two of their entendre game. -- exit Empyrea -- my actions | my words | my thoughts