Post by Aleyna on Dec 21, 2009 2:54:00 GMT -5
OKAY SO This is an old RP between Laz and myself that I really liked. So I'm reposting it.
Sated Wanderlust
It had been a few days since her feet walked across the stone floors of Ironforge. Aleyna saunters along the familiar path from the tram to her apartment, idly looking over at the grand library of the Explorer's League. Her ram trotted behind her, his leather reins trailing from in front of his horns to her hand. She loosely tied them at the base of her stairs and slowly made the climb, clearly in no rush. With a flick of her worn key and a shove with her shoulder, the heavy door creaks open and slams back closed.
"Laz, you here?" She asks as she begins to pull off her backpack, stepping down the stairs and into the main room of the little building, looking about with raised eyebrows.
The big, dead draenei is slumped in a chair, eyes closed but not actually asleep. If he were under the effect of his sleeping potions, he wouldn't have responded to her arrival as he does.
"Ley!" he grunts, sitting forward in his chair. "Where the fuck have you been?" As if she were a teenager who'd stayed out long past her curfew. His voice does betray equal parts anger and worry.
"Uh..." She hesitates, looking around to make sure that he was talking to her. She turns back to him and cocks an eyebrow curiously. His behavior has obviously thrown her a curve ball.
"I've been... out?" She ventures. Usually stating that she was off having trysts with other men was the wrong thing to say, so she leaves it vague. She eyes him warily and asks cautiously, "...Why? What's wrong?"
He comes against a road block when she counters with her own question. What's he supposed to say? Because my creepy boss might kidnap you and cut off your fingers or Light knows what else? Would he show her Nat's finger?
It's a lot easier for Lazaar to keep being pissed. "Been gone a long time," he snarls, pushing himself to his feet and taking a moment to grope around for more verbal ammunition. "You could at least tell me beforehand so I don't start to think you're dead in a ditch somewhere. Your rib's still fucked up, too, and you shouldn't be running around."
"Er.. allright, then. I'll leave a note when I know next time," She says with little conviction, as if to just tell him something to make him calm down. She walks to the table, tossing her bag in a spare chair.
"My rib is fine," She adds in an afterthought. "Campy fixed it again. Well. I messed it up and it hurt when I breathed, so I tracked him down and made him fix it again. But it's fine now." She nods firmly, satisfied with her explanation.
Lazaar fidgets and flicks his tail with agitation. The frustration of not saying exactly what he means or wants to say, which is a terminal condition with him. Except when it comes to insulting people, perhaps; he's always willing and ready to point out faults (real or imagined.) The mention of Campion while he's in this darker frame of mind just serves to push more buttons.
"How nice of him," he says with mock sweetness. "He's really just a gentleman, isn't he? I hope you won't cry too hard when we finally have to bump him off."
Her wary look falls into a full frown. "What's got your tail in a knot? I was only gone for a few days. You're being weird," She huffs and shifts her weight, popping her hip out to the side in agitation. She fixes him with a look, crossing her arms.
"Nothing," he snaps, mirroring her crossed arms and meeting her look. "Tell me. How am I being weird?"
Aleyna's eyebrows shoot up again at the snap. Certainly not 'nothing', it seems. "You're acting like we're together or something. And it's definitely not 'nothing' if you're throwing a fit like this," She sighs in exasperation. Such a woman, that Lazaar.
"I'm not. I just happen to give a shit, alright? There something wrong with that?" Tip-toeing closer to the heart of the matter, but he backtracks to the safety of business. "I'm your goddamned boss, too. I need to know where all you assholes are."
"You 'happen to give a shit', eh? Is that like saying that you care about me?" Aleyna's frown twists into a crooked grin, but her tone seems to be more flattered than mocking. She ignores the 'boss' tirade and steps around the table to stand infront of him. She looks up at him and narrows her eyes playfully, shifting her hands to rest on her hips.
His face stiffens, lips pressing into a flat, hard line. "No!"
Well, that sounded meaner than he intended, so he continues, blurting: "Shit. Stop turning my words around. I don't not care. You're a nosy loudmouth bitch, but . . . you've got good stuff about you too, I guess. You're not always annoying, just most of the time you are."
That is a Lazaar compliment. Take it or leave it. Meanwhile, his eyes are staring very pointedly at the wall above Aleyna's head.
Ignoring the insults, Aleyna takes it as a compliment. She beams up at him with a wide grin and announces, "You DO don't you? " Her laughter echoes through the room. Somewhere near the cabinets Soot can be heard clambering about because of the sudden disruption.
When she quiets down, she reaches out to prod at his crossed arms. "Hey. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know that you would MISS me," she grins. Despite her teasing words, her apology seems rather genuine.
Lazaar doesn't laugh with her. He unfolds his arms in time to catch the hand she used for prodding, enclosing it in the firm grip of his boulder-like fist. He's back to making shadowy eye contact. "I told you when you first came around that this wasn't a game . . . the Kamil. It still isn't.
"Things are getting weird, Ley. Be careful and I want you to promise you'll tell me if you see anything strange." He gives her hand a cold squeeze. Feeling a little stupid to hear himself say the words. Like an overly-concerned parent. "Okay?"
Aleyna's smile falls and she peers up to meet his gaze with furrowed eyebrows. "I know this isn't a game, Laz," she states solemnly. She holds contact with his eyes and continues speaking evenly, "What weird stuff? Has something happened? I need to know what I should be looking for."
Even when oddly serious, she still asks a million questions.
It takes a few moments for him to respond, trying to decide how to phrase this, and finally just settling on blunt honesty. "He sent me one of Nat's fingers."
Lazaar sighs, as if it was a relief to finally tell that to someone else. "I'm trying to make sure he doesn't have any reason to cut off more. Or when she's all out of fingers, go after you because he knows I actually give a shit about you."
He brings his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fuck."
"Wait, what?" She asks a bit loudly, but she had clearly heard him.
Aleyna's head tilts slightly as her expression twists. Her voice drops in volume as it takes on a tone that is equally shocked and confused, "Who? One of her fingers? And then MY fingers?"
"The boss," he says, ambiguously, not entirely certain himself if that was THE Sobaru, or if it was Kolek all along.
Lazaar gives her hand another squeeze and a shake for emphasis. "That's what I want you to watch for. I'm doing my best not to piss him off anymore, but . . . he's a son of a bitch is the thing. Unpredictable."
She looks down, staring at Lazaar's hooves but not actually seeing them. Her hand gives his a brief squeeze back as best she can with the size difference before she bites her lip as she hums in thought. She knew that the boss over everything was pushy, but to this extent? "Can't be good," She mumbles, more than likely voicing a thought than actually speaking to Lazaar.
A sudden thought hits her and she looks back up to address him, "What about the trips to Nagrand? It's still safe to go get orders of DC, right?"
"I'm gonna try my best to stay outta trouble, though. Promise," She adds as an afterthought, realizing that she hadn't actually given him her word yet.
Lazaar mulls this question over carefully. "You can still fill the orders, but I want you and Grinne to go together. Better than going alone. You don't have to both meet Kolek. Maybe one keeps watch?" He rambles, waving a hand, as if this somehow clarified things.
"Got to walk the line for now. Keep him happy . . ." his teeth clench together, ". . . even though I want to punch his flat fucking face in."
He realizes he's squeezing Aleyna's hand again, but a lot tighter than can possibly be comfortable. He lets it drop with something like apologetic gingerness.
Aleyna grimaces and shakes out her hand, trying to regain feeling in her fingers. She goes about stretching out her palm and popping her joints as she talks, "Grinne's never been to Outlands before, so it'll be a task to drag him out there. But we'll get it done."
Satisfied with her hands, she returns to looking up at him with worry. "We're doing decent sales. What else does he want?"
She briefly debates hugging Lazaar in an attempt to comfort him, but she decides it might be counter productive at the moment.
"What does he want? I don't know. He's krokul. They get fucked up in the head after they lose the Light." He still considers the Broken deeply disgusting, even though he's not one to judge. Not these days.
"Right now we wait, but if it comes to it, we'll bump him off and take the Kamil for ourselves." He leans in close, "Don't you breathe a word about that, though. Not a word."
Krokul. Aleyna knows she recognizes the word from somewhere, but she cannot quite place it. A question had been bubbling up, but she finds herself distracted by the mention of power.
"You think we could?" She asks, stepping foward and very much into his personal space. Her slightly sore hand rests where his heart lays still and she looks up at him with a slight grin. "I won't say a word. Promise."
"We could. He's just a sad, shriveled bastard hiding in Shattrath." For a moment, he wonders if Yeva would be upset with him if he were to kill her brother. The moment passes quickly, though, dispelled when Aleyna puts her hand on his chest.
Lazaar puts his arms around her waist to pull her in tighter. His lips finally curl into a chapped smirk. "You just sneak in there and slit his throat. Maybe give him some poison. Easy."
She leans on him now that he's pulled her close enough to do so, her other hand moving to mirror the other. "Easy," She repeats with a crooked grin. "It's not like anyone would mind."
She idly picks at the collar of his shirt, still grinning to herself. Quite a plan, indeed!
"Not at all," Lazaar whispers conspiratorially. His tail has long since begun making slow, lazy figure eights.
"You do that, and maybe I'll make you my second in command." It's not a proper mafia unless you've promoted your lover to the highest rank, right? "You and me calling the shots. How'd you like that?"
He laughs at his own joke, giving her a playful squeeze around the waist.
She slides her hands up from his chest to wrap around his neck, careful of his face tentacles. Her eyes light up with unbridled glee at the mention of being second in command. However, the fact that he wants her to do the dirty work for it isn't lost on her, but really, why expect anything less?
"With you and me in charge, we might actually get some things done," She smirks. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"No, let's not . . . So we wait." Lazaar sighs his impatience, but the exhale still comes through a wicked smile.
". . . But waiting doesn't have to be boring, eh?" He leans in to plant a kiss on her lips, a very rare gesture on his part; perhaps because he's well aware of how much he must taste like stale cigar smoke and musty, unnatural undeath.
She's quite shocked at first, as it's not something she's used to from him. However, she tries to quickly recover and return the kiss, standing on her toes a bit to match his height. To her, the taste isn't wholly unpleasant. It's definitely not what's considered 'normal', but she doesn't mind it. It's the thought, not the rot.
After he breaks the kiss, the corners of his smirk is practically lost in either mutton chop. He gives her a long look eye-to-eye, then -- perhaps feeling uncomfortable with the overt show of affection -- barks a laugh and slaps her on the butt. Ah, Lazaar, ever the romantic.
"You thinking what I'm thinking, sweetheart?" The way he pronounces the pet name drips with something like sarcasm.
She snickers and shakes her head, reminded as to why she's happy that she chose to 'keep' the one that won't be sappy. His demeanor matched what she wanted. The chance at power just happened to be a plus.
"I think I am, honey," Aleyna grins and pulls him by the front of his shirt, leading him towards the stout stone bed.
Sated Wanderlust
It had been a few days since her feet walked across the stone floors of Ironforge. Aleyna saunters along the familiar path from the tram to her apartment, idly looking over at the grand library of the Explorer's League. Her ram trotted behind her, his leather reins trailing from in front of his horns to her hand. She loosely tied them at the base of her stairs and slowly made the climb, clearly in no rush. With a flick of her worn key and a shove with her shoulder, the heavy door creaks open and slams back closed.
"Laz, you here?" She asks as she begins to pull off her backpack, stepping down the stairs and into the main room of the little building, looking about with raised eyebrows.
The big, dead draenei is slumped in a chair, eyes closed but not actually asleep. If he were under the effect of his sleeping potions, he wouldn't have responded to her arrival as he does.
"Ley!" he grunts, sitting forward in his chair. "Where the fuck have you been?" As if she were a teenager who'd stayed out long past her curfew. His voice does betray equal parts anger and worry.
"Uh..." She hesitates, looking around to make sure that he was talking to her. She turns back to him and cocks an eyebrow curiously. His behavior has obviously thrown her a curve ball.
"I've been... out?" She ventures. Usually stating that she was off having trysts with other men was the wrong thing to say, so she leaves it vague. She eyes him warily and asks cautiously, "...Why? What's wrong?"
He comes against a road block when she counters with her own question. What's he supposed to say? Because my creepy boss might kidnap you and cut off your fingers or Light knows what else? Would he show her Nat's finger?
It's a lot easier for Lazaar to keep being pissed. "Been gone a long time," he snarls, pushing himself to his feet and taking a moment to grope around for more verbal ammunition. "You could at least tell me beforehand so I don't start to think you're dead in a ditch somewhere. Your rib's still fucked up, too, and you shouldn't be running around."
"Er.. allright, then. I'll leave a note when I know next time," She says with little conviction, as if to just tell him something to make him calm down. She walks to the table, tossing her bag in a spare chair.
"My rib is fine," She adds in an afterthought. "Campy fixed it again. Well. I messed it up and it hurt when I breathed, so I tracked him down and made him fix it again. But it's fine now." She nods firmly, satisfied with her explanation.
Lazaar fidgets and flicks his tail with agitation. The frustration of not saying exactly what he means or wants to say, which is a terminal condition with him. Except when it comes to insulting people, perhaps; he's always willing and ready to point out faults (real or imagined.) The mention of Campion while he's in this darker frame of mind just serves to push more buttons.
"How nice of him," he says with mock sweetness. "He's really just a gentleman, isn't he? I hope you won't cry too hard when we finally have to bump him off."
Her wary look falls into a full frown. "What's got your tail in a knot? I was only gone for a few days. You're being weird," She huffs and shifts her weight, popping her hip out to the side in agitation. She fixes him with a look, crossing her arms.
"Nothing," he snaps, mirroring her crossed arms and meeting her look. "Tell me. How am I being weird?"
Aleyna's eyebrows shoot up again at the snap. Certainly not 'nothing', it seems. "You're acting like we're together or something. And it's definitely not 'nothing' if you're throwing a fit like this," She sighs in exasperation. Such a woman, that Lazaar.
"I'm not. I just happen to give a shit, alright? There something wrong with that?" Tip-toeing closer to the heart of the matter, but he backtracks to the safety of business. "I'm your goddamned boss, too. I need to know where all you assholes are."
"You 'happen to give a shit', eh? Is that like saying that you care about me?" Aleyna's frown twists into a crooked grin, but her tone seems to be more flattered than mocking. She ignores the 'boss' tirade and steps around the table to stand infront of him. She looks up at him and narrows her eyes playfully, shifting her hands to rest on her hips.
His face stiffens, lips pressing into a flat, hard line. "No!"
Well, that sounded meaner than he intended, so he continues, blurting: "Shit. Stop turning my words around. I don't not care. You're a nosy loudmouth bitch, but . . . you've got good stuff about you too, I guess. You're not always annoying, just most of the time you are."
That is a Lazaar compliment. Take it or leave it. Meanwhile, his eyes are staring very pointedly at the wall above Aleyna's head.
Ignoring the insults, Aleyna takes it as a compliment. She beams up at him with a wide grin and announces, "You DO don't you? " Her laughter echoes through the room. Somewhere near the cabinets Soot can be heard clambering about because of the sudden disruption.
When she quiets down, she reaches out to prod at his crossed arms. "Hey. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know that you would MISS me," she grins. Despite her teasing words, her apology seems rather genuine.
Lazaar doesn't laugh with her. He unfolds his arms in time to catch the hand she used for prodding, enclosing it in the firm grip of his boulder-like fist. He's back to making shadowy eye contact. "I told you when you first came around that this wasn't a game . . . the Kamil. It still isn't.
"Things are getting weird, Ley. Be careful and I want you to promise you'll tell me if you see anything strange." He gives her hand a cold squeeze. Feeling a little stupid to hear himself say the words. Like an overly-concerned parent. "Okay?"
Aleyna's smile falls and she peers up to meet his gaze with furrowed eyebrows. "I know this isn't a game, Laz," she states solemnly. She holds contact with his eyes and continues speaking evenly, "What weird stuff? Has something happened? I need to know what I should be looking for."
Even when oddly serious, she still asks a million questions.
It takes a few moments for him to respond, trying to decide how to phrase this, and finally just settling on blunt honesty. "He sent me one of Nat's fingers."
Lazaar sighs, as if it was a relief to finally tell that to someone else. "I'm trying to make sure he doesn't have any reason to cut off more. Or when she's all out of fingers, go after you because he knows I actually give a shit about you."
He brings his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fuck."
"Wait, what?" She asks a bit loudly, but she had clearly heard him.
Aleyna's head tilts slightly as her expression twists. Her voice drops in volume as it takes on a tone that is equally shocked and confused, "Who? One of her fingers? And then MY fingers?"
"The boss," he says, ambiguously, not entirely certain himself if that was THE Sobaru, or if it was Kolek all along.
Lazaar gives her hand another squeeze and a shake for emphasis. "That's what I want you to watch for. I'm doing my best not to piss him off anymore, but . . . he's a son of a bitch is the thing. Unpredictable."
She looks down, staring at Lazaar's hooves but not actually seeing them. Her hand gives his a brief squeeze back as best she can with the size difference before she bites her lip as she hums in thought. She knew that the boss over everything was pushy, but to this extent? "Can't be good," She mumbles, more than likely voicing a thought than actually speaking to Lazaar.
A sudden thought hits her and she looks back up to address him, "What about the trips to Nagrand? It's still safe to go get orders of DC, right?"
"I'm gonna try my best to stay outta trouble, though. Promise," She adds as an afterthought, realizing that she hadn't actually given him her word yet.
Lazaar mulls this question over carefully. "You can still fill the orders, but I want you and Grinne to go together. Better than going alone. You don't have to both meet Kolek. Maybe one keeps watch?" He rambles, waving a hand, as if this somehow clarified things.
"Got to walk the line for now. Keep him happy . . ." his teeth clench together, ". . . even though I want to punch his flat fucking face in."
He realizes he's squeezing Aleyna's hand again, but a lot tighter than can possibly be comfortable. He lets it drop with something like apologetic gingerness.
Aleyna grimaces and shakes out her hand, trying to regain feeling in her fingers. She goes about stretching out her palm and popping her joints as she talks, "Grinne's never been to Outlands before, so it'll be a task to drag him out there. But we'll get it done."
Satisfied with her hands, she returns to looking up at him with worry. "We're doing decent sales. What else does he want?"
She briefly debates hugging Lazaar in an attempt to comfort him, but she decides it might be counter productive at the moment.
"What does he want? I don't know. He's krokul. They get fucked up in the head after they lose the Light." He still considers the Broken deeply disgusting, even though he's not one to judge. Not these days.
"Right now we wait, but if it comes to it, we'll bump him off and take the Kamil for ourselves." He leans in close, "Don't you breathe a word about that, though. Not a word."
Krokul. Aleyna knows she recognizes the word from somewhere, but she cannot quite place it. A question had been bubbling up, but she finds herself distracted by the mention of power.
"You think we could?" She asks, stepping foward and very much into his personal space. Her slightly sore hand rests where his heart lays still and she looks up at him with a slight grin. "I won't say a word. Promise."
"We could. He's just a sad, shriveled bastard hiding in Shattrath." For a moment, he wonders if Yeva would be upset with him if he were to kill her brother. The moment passes quickly, though, dispelled when Aleyna puts her hand on his chest.
Lazaar puts his arms around her waist to pull her in tighter. His lips finally curl into a chapped smirk. "You just sneak in there and slit his throat. Maybe give him some poison. Easy."
She leans on him now that he's pulled her close enough to do so, her other hand moving to mirror the other. "Easy," She repeats with a crooked grin. "It's not like anyone would mind."
She idly picks at the collar of his shirt, still grinning to herself. Quite a plan, indeed!
"Not at all," Lazaar whispers conspiratorially. His tail has long since begun making slow, lazy figure eights.
"You do that, and maybe I'll make you my second in command." It's not a proper mafia unless you've promoted your lover to the highest rank, right? "You and me calling the shots. How'd you like that?"
He laughs at his own joke, giving her a playful squeeze around the waist.
She slides her hands up from his chest to wrap around his neck, careful of his face tentacles. Her eyes light up with unbridled glee at the mention of being second in command. However, the fact that he wants her to do the dirty work for it isn't lost on her, but really, why expect anything less?
"With you and me in charge, we might actually get some things done," She smirks. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"No, let's not . . . So we wait." Lazaar sighs his impatience, but the exhale still comes through a wicked smile.
". . . But waiting doesn't have to be boring, eh?" He leans in to plant a kiss on her lips, a very rare gesture on his part; perhaps because he's well aware of how much he must taste like stale cigar smoke and musty, unnatural undeath.
She's quite shocked at first, as it's not something she's used to from him. However, she tries to quickly recover and return the kiss, standing on her toes a bit to match his height. To her, the taste isn't wholly unpleasant. It's definitely not what's considered 'normal', but she doesn't mind it. It's the thought, not the rot.
After he breaks the kiss, the corners of his smirk is practically lost in either mutton chop. He gives her a long look eye-to-eye, then -- perhaps feeling uncomfortable with the overt show of affection -- barks a laugh and slaps her on the butt. Ah, Lazaar, ever the romantic.
"You thinking what I'm thinking, sweetheart?" The way he pronounces the pet name drips with something like sarcasm.
She snickers and shakes her head, reminded as to why she's happy that she chose to 'keep' the one that won't be sappy. His demeanor matched what she wanted. The chance at power just happened to be a plus.
"I think I am, honey," Aleyna grins and pulls him by the front of his shirt, leading him towards the stout stone bed.