Firesprite
Vicariously Alive
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2000
- Posts
- 3,141
Lissa, The Barmaid
OOC: sorry I havn't been here.. had probs with Lit. Ravenloft, please email me when you have the time? thx.
IC:
Awakening drowsily Lissa moaned and lifted her hand to forehead. With a wince she realised her shoulders were marked, wounded from the wild night of passion she spent with the aggressive Cervantes.
Prising her eyes open against the sharp light of dawn she discovered she was no longer in the bed of the Tavern, she had come to in a small alley. Taking stock of herself she rose, her nakedness startling as she tried to recall how she came to be here. The only possession remaining to her the charm against pregnancy in her navel. She dimly recalled a necklace that Cervantes had draped about her neck before he left, and at the moment its clasps joined, her desire to follow him died as if it had never been.
Sneaking along the alleyway she tried to puzzle out what had happened. She recalled enjoying every minute of his rough bestial lovemaking, the desire to follow where he led and the knowledge that he could make her rich with her spying. Why had she suddenly chosen to feign sleep and let him leave her like that? how had she ended up naked in the dirty alley?
Suddenly she realized, the necklace had its own charm. The charm to prevent a liason with a girl from becoming the stalkings of a jilted woman, a charm to convince a woman that all was right, and while she wore it, that she was anybodys woman.
Prodding and prying at her hazy memories of yesterday she recalled rising late from her bed, and walking naked down the stairs from the upper rooms to the common room below.
Rough and ready cart drivers and folk passing through town having a morning ale all looked astonished at the sight of her decent. The rest of the day mercifully dimmed to a series of flashes, smells, tastes that convinced her she had been used by these men, all the men at once and some men alone. It was only when one man, being altogether too rough ripped the necklace from her neck, startling her to her full senses and she ran from the common room and away.
Peering into a yard Lissa spied some homespun woolens hanging out to dry. Sneaking in and stealing them was an easy job for someone as skilled as she.
Decently attired again Lissa returned to the Tavern, to fetch her horse, claim her wage and follow after Cervantes.
Anger rose within her as she found that the very man she was looking for had stolen her black horse, Raven, and the owner of the tavern claimed to know her not.
Returning to the stables she inspected the horses currently housed there.. picking a stallion that seemed hardy and well trained she unearthed her savings from the hayloft, saddled the stallion and was gone before any noticed.
Throughout the day she travelled, seeing traces of the small parties passage, identifying her own horses prints in the soft dirt, seeing where another had joined the party, and all the while, trying to decide how to approach them again.
The wounds on her shoulders seemed to burn unlike anything she felt before, but she worried not, as she knew as others didn't what was already in her blood.
She knew she was the Spirit of the Night, and her true name, KyLissa, struck from the records of her far-away kingdom when it became known that the magics of the beasts of the night flowed in her veins.
OOC: sorry I havn't been here.. had probs with Lit. Ravenloft, please email me when you have the time? thx.
IC:
Awakening drowsily Lissa moaned and lifted her hand to forehead. With a wince she realised her shoulders were marked, wounded from the wild night of passion she spent with the aggressive Cervantes.
Prising her eyes open against the sharp light of dawn she discovered she was no longer in the bed of the Tavern, she had come to in a small alley. Taking stock of herself she rose, her nakedness startling as she tried to recall how she came to be here. The only possession remaining to her the charm against pregnancy in her navel. She dimly recalled a necklace that Cervantes had draped about her neck before he left, and at the moment its clasps joined, her desire to follow him died as if it had never been.
Sneaking along the alleyway she tried to puzzle out what had happened. She recalled enjoying every minute of his rough bestial lovemaking, the desire to follow where he led and the knowledge that he could make her rich with her spying. Why had she suddenly chosen to feign sleep and let him leave her like that? how had she ended up naked in the dirty alley?
Suddenly she realized, the necklace had its own charm. The charm to prevent a liason with a girl from becoming the stalkings of a jilted woman, a charm to convince a woman that all was right, and while she wore it, that she was anybodys woman.
Prodding and prying at her hazy memories of yesterday she recalled rising late from her bed, and walking naked down the stairs from the upper rooms to the common room below.
Rough and ready cart drivers and folk passing through town having a morning ale all looked astonished at the sight of her decent. The rest of the day mercifully dimmed to a series of flashes, smells, tastes that convinced her she had been used by these men, all the men at once and some men alone. It was only when one man, being altogether too rough ripped the necklace from her neck, startling her to her full senses and she ran from the common room and away.
Peering into a yard Lissa spied some homespun woolens hanging out to dry. Sneaking in and stealing them was an easy job for someone as skilled as she.
Decently attired again Lissa returned to the Tavern, to fetch her horse, claim her wage and follow after Cervantes.
Anger rose within her as she found that the very man she was looking for had stolen her black horse, Raven, and the owner of the tavern claimed to know her not.
Returning to the stables she inspected the horses currently housed there.. picking a stallion that seemed hardy and well trained she unearthed her savings from the hayloft, saddled the stallion and was gone before any noticed.
Throughout the day she travelled, seeing traces of the small parties passage, identifying her own horses prints in the soft dirt, seeing where another had joined the party, and all the while, trying to decide how to approach them again.
The wounds on her shoulders seemed to burn unlike anything she felt before, but she worried not, as she knew as others didn't what was already in her blood.
She knew she was the Spirit of the Night, and her true name, KyLissa, struck from the records of her far-away kingdom when it became known that the magics of the beasts of the night flowed in her veins.
Last edited: