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offshoots
[In the old days, men came to Circe, not the other way around. But a great witch knows how to improvise, especially in the name of revenge. Especially in the name of petty revenge.
Expose her disguise in Salem, will he? Well. Can't have Robin Hood being too perceptive and clever, without consequences for his fat mouth.
Servants may not need sleep, but enough liquor makes them pass out when they put their guard down. She doesn't even need to be too quiet when sneaking into the kitchen, stepping around the scotch and cards from a British get-together. No King Arthur but a few knights, a poet and a pirate. And, ah-ha! An outlaw, with drool sticking poker chips to his cheek.
Circe taps a finger to her lips. Hm. All men might be pigs, but it wasn't quite fitting in this case....hadn't been grabby fingers, but a quick tongue that had earned him this trouble... a tilt of her head. That russet hair, standing on end, did already put her in mind of a certain bushy creature. Why not complete the look?
Boop!
She taps a finger full of magic right onto his nose and steps back to observe her handiwork. Not cruel enough to earn her deserved scorn - enough to teach him not to blow her cover. And if he was so sly and crafty, than surely, not too hard a task to discover who'd turned his ears vulpine and given him a tail to match that kitsune Caster's? Admirable handiwork, if she will admit that to herself. Perfectly fluffy copper fur even she wants to reach out and pet.
Fufufu.
Time for a fox to hunt a hawk. And for Circe to spirit herself away before he catches a whiff of her among all the alcohol.]
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the tail and ears aren't really his. it's why he's not sure how to take her praising them. he's far more assured on how to react to her rubbing her face against his tail. not his, no, but tell that to the nerves there directly connected to his brain and the feeling that's going on there. Nero rubbing her face on it tickles and makes his breath short. his gasp is sharp and quiet, his back going straight.
he speaks through his teeth, through a blaze of heat working its way up his spine.]
Stop. Snuggling it.
[that's what she's doing. that's definitely what she's doing, isn't it?!
if his character influenced his fur, wouldn't it be muddy? dirty? matted, at least? then Nero wouldn't be so inclined to rub her face in it like that. with all the nerves obviously being connected to him, cutting it off would be really fucking painful and he would rather avoid that. so you know he's not in his right mind when he says,]
If you want, I'll give it to you! Just... [DEEP BREATH] s-stop rubbing on it.
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[ fuck those cat pillows. maybe there's a way to make him say nyan if she squeezes Robin right. or whatever sound foxes make. ....what sound do they make....?
well it's twitching and it tickles her so Nero giggles, at first involuntarily. and then less so once she sees his face. then it's much more a loud, bright, deliberate cheer of laughter. let it infect him and make him smile too. come now Robin, smile. watch her do it - with the lips split from ear to ear so her small face has become nothing but one overwhelming bit of unfiltered, childlike happiness. ]
I may have it?!
[ fur might be more Iskander's taste, but! Nero pulls herself in closer to wrap his tail as far around her neck as it would go. so not quite a stole, and Nero not quite six inches away, but she's got it clamped to her neck with both hands and preens up into his face. ]
How does it look? Fitting, no?
[ it must be if he's blushing that much. ]
Such generosity you've hidden! And you've let others think you're a greedy bandit. To thank you, I shall name you my personal spymaster.
[ no sword comes down on his shoulder to confer the title, but her hand will do. and shortly followed by another hug - distinctly, closely, informal - swung around his shoulders. little more than an excuse to hold him tight again, and tap her brow against the hotness of his red cheeks. for what did a Servant need with a spymaster?
...
well one could never be too careful.... ]
no subject
the flush seems to burn hotter at her giggling. there's only so much fun a person can have from cuddling something soft. lately, he's become more privy to the fact that Nero is far more childlike. or perhaps it's just an effect of being summoned. Liz could be considered a noblewoman, herself. not a king or an emperor, really, but she's as childlike (if not more) than Nero.
hadn't she been putting bows on him? like he was some kind of doll? nobles are the worst.
really, the worst. tugging on his tail, looking so happy as she wraps his-- the tail around her neck. the darker side hopes she chokes but.
she's too damn happy.]
I said it so you'd let me go, damn it!
[and she hasn't. at all. he's not generous, either. he just wants to avoid trouble as much as possible. yet it finds him. it finds him in a tiny emperor in red and the brightest smiles he's ever seen on a human face.
one that embraces him so easily. without thought. her scent swarms around him, stronger. because of a more sensitive nose? perfect. just what he needed. his arms are around her before he realizes what he's doing, fisting what little fabric at her back.]
What do you need-- aah, no. I won't ask. Arguing with you makes me tired. Do what you want. You're going to anyway, right? Okay, okay. Spymaster, sure. As long as you stop tugging on my tail, I'll do it. Alright? Deal?
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it's cute. he's cute when he's all flustered.
Nero puffs the fur up against her cheeks and tries to picture if the colors clash with her. what a shame if they would. hm. she might just wear it anyway. but then - there's a hand? and she's the flustered one, the tail falling off once there aren't her hands keeping it in place. in absence of a better place, her hands land against his chest. a thick vest, but still enough to feel out the contours, and to brush soft fingers against the silver necklace that he wore. ]
Y-you will?! You agree to it!
[ Nero doesn't have the excuse of a beastly curse. she smells him - not that he wears cologne, perfume, or battle-musk. even with the dying hint of old beer to it, its the scent of the skin that had never gotten out of her nose from the first time. and this close -
one hand comes up to turn his cheek. the other rings round his neck to make a more splendid necklace and a better angle for her to kiss his lips. rough, masculine. enjoyable to press against, to push into. eyes shut and she enjoys the act, this moment that she's wanted like a nap in summer sun...
how she's wished to be romanced, to be pursued. but she's learning, at least, that the pursuer in her dreams has begun to wear an emerald cloak. and if that is so, then again, she must be the dominant one. the one to make the moves, to act on impulses. others might sit around and debate until the stars come out, but that has never been her way, her lot in life. she's had to act first until it became second nature. until it was part of her. the joke, that Nero leaps before she knows where to land.
her hands land up into his hair again. there is no ear to curve her finger around; the shape of his skull anomalously different. it is much longer before fingers touch around his ear, and then its silk and softness, flickering in shock. ]
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I guess I am.
[always giving everyone the cryptic kind of answer, but it's the best affirmation she will get out of him concerning this. he's able to say it just before she turns his face towards her and his eyes are a fraction wider. her lips meet his and he goes still, stiff because they're in the middle of the hall and Nero has no shame. zero.
Nero is soft and feminine on her mouth but equally as enjoyable to feel for Robin. he shouldn't, he should push her away, but he answers her kiss by moving his mouth against hers. if Nero leaps before she knows where to land, Robin has to know it's land he meets and it's safe before he launches himself. with Nero, he gets caught up in closing his eyes quite often.
the ear flicks but he makes a sound to pour into her mouth. he doesn't know how many times he's told her not to touch them or his tail but she does it anyway. without fail. whatever sound he's made turns into a soft growl of frustration and he breaks away.]
Stop. Touching.
there's so much dust on this thread
first task for the new spymaster: become familiar with Emperor Nero's collected writings and see if she's come up with the phrase roguish good looks.
the mental note comes and goes; Robin holds her whole attention when his lips adjust. somehow the height difference disappears, in these instances. so that Nero can guide the pace, guide her lips across his chapped kisses. increase the tempo, the use of delicate instruments like tongues and touch, that stroke his brow and jaw between the little sounds he makes. the ones that sound like breath and grunts and stop touching -
okay that one she should have listened to - ]
H-hey!
[ grabby hands throw a tantrum when all they can hold is the air. ]
That was romantic! You can't start and then suddenly stop!
[ it had taken so long to get a moment like that! and to have it snatched away - it wasn't fair! it would be even worse than just ghosting on someone, no matter what reasons
and there is no meta text here. take the full force of her Imperial glower, even when her lips are shimmering from their shared spit. ]You should stop being so sensitive! One cannot behave themselves when prompted with a thing so tantalizing!
[ j'accuse....your ears! ]
grabs my vacuum
if it's romantic, it's only because she's roman. if he's sensitive, it's only because he has ears and a tail that he isn't used to. kissing in a hallway isn't what he would call romantic. he would call it teenage. they're supposed to be thousands of years old, they're supposed to be dead but here they are.
shenanigans. sometimes he'd rather still be dead.
her Imperial Glower has no effect. neither does her small tantrum. it never has besides irritating him.]
Are you talking about yourself? I can behave just fine. [yeah, right. some things that he's done today proves otherwise.] I'm in the middle of finding someone to get rid of these, not being sensitive. Pardon me for wanting to stay on track. Besides, now that I'm your spymaster, you can't get all-- [he was going to say lovey-dovey but he doesn't like that. nothing with love. what's a better word?] clingy anymore.
make robin clean up
If you could control yourself then you would not be a wanted criminal.
[ point - Nero (?). but a rather unsatisfying point. especially when it's followed by an audible GASP of air. ]
Clingy? How dare you!
[ that earns a very pointy poke right in his chest, piercing right through all that chest armor. ]
Now that you are my spymaster, you must learn the first lesson of servitude - do not bite the hand that feeds you! [ maybe that was the phrase she coined? hm. have him look that one up too.] You cling to me, not I to you! Now! You insist on being on track?
[ and his arm's in a death grip, only five of her tiny calloused fingers needed to snap him from a stand still. stay on track? she'll be the one to determine the track! and that was -
- was -
- where had they been going again.....
it'll come to Nero eventually, as long as Robin stopped trying to get her to stop pulling him. ]