Legends of Belariath
Sutara
Exorcist of a Memory
Chapter 3: Deception
“Son of a Bitch!” she yelled, nails curled as she automatically tried to claw the skin off his face, his grunt of pain followed by a bellow as she snagged at his lids and cheeks. He instantly tried rolling her beneath him, shoving her still cold and wet body into the mud underneath, earning an arch from her as she protested and struggled.
“Sutara! Stop it!” he yelled back, fingers wrapping around her wrists as he tried to subdue her. Of course, this time, it seemed a bit harder, her fighting having more strength behind it as they both became winded. “Gods below, I didn’t want to run into you Sut, but if you could – unf, OW – stop that!” the bruise blossomed on his jaw and eye, glaring down at her before he sent the shocking grasp coursing through her. This, with the combination of freezing cold water that had soaked her through, sent her for a moment, reeling into a plateau of pain that took her breath away.
He took the moment to get better purchase on her, pulling her arms behind her, locking her wrists at the base of her back. It pushed her breasts upward, nipples pebbled from the cold, straining against the fabric. If it had been another moment, another time, he would taken clear pleasure in watching her squirm as her body responded to the cold. Instead, he waited for her breathing to come under control, watched as those dark lashes fluttered and revealed the beauty of her nether gloom gaze. They flared with a familiar fire, lips stained like some love-bitten flesh drawn into an angry line. He could not help but stare, that familiar surge of lust swamping, but soon the fire kindled in her eyes.. that darkened hue, warned him of her next move. That, and the movement of her lips, the spell casted at his chest, feeling the burn of fire erupt against the flesh as he howled in pain.
Sutara smiled in satisfaction at that sound, would have moved to gain her freedom from underneath him, but suddenly there was a sharp crack at the back of her skull. That moment of confusion, looking up at him as she tried to turn her head, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Dimly she saw the edge of another figure standing behind them, holding something, words spilling from their lips. Her last thought before unconsciousness grabbed her?
"That fucker."
10 years ago
"I can't believe you let them take our caravan, now what are we going to do?" she fumed, paced within the small room rented for her and her father, eyes shifting to glare at him as he lay prostrate on the bed. He didn't answer, Elias was always slow to answer, especially when faced with the inevitable ire he instigated in his only daughter. So she continued to pace, every once and a while moving to the door to listen, make sure no one was coming for them.
"How did you even get past all those guards and posters?" she asked, turning back to him. Yet still he didn't answer, and she'd kick violently at the edge of the bed, sending him rolling until he landed on the other side.
"OOmpf!" Elias struggled to regain his position upon the bed, glaring at her as he smoothed down his robes. Though, at her question, he grappled for an item that was cleverly concealed in the multitude of pockets set within the robe itself.
"Here, try this, it's a spell designed to change one's outer appearance, and don't worry about the caravan, I have this back up plan, it involved a trader and his horse farm.." his words were met with another upward arch of one brow, making him stare hard in turn. She was so much like her mother, something he couldn't quite get over.. Moriel bitches, sighing as he'd rub the bridge of his nose and take to laying back upon the only bed in the room.
Sutara grasped at the scrolls, turning her back on him with a little sound of disgust as she quickly read over the spells components. It seemed easy enough, a common spell, mesmorizing those words as she felt the familiar slide of unease race down her spine. However, the spell did present a way of finding out more.. perhaps find that Captain and see what exactly they wanted with her father. They weren't the usual armed slime balls looking to recoup something stolen or other wise conned out of by her beloved patron.
"I'm going out." she'd state, taking up her cloak, settling it into place as she'd open the door, slipping into the dim lit hallway. The hood of her cloak was pulled up and over the abundance of pale curls that framed her young visage, pouting vermillion lips casted in a wry smile as she silently invoked the words of the spell. That skin turned a to a sun-kissed tan, those eyes to a brilliant shade of amber brown, though still that pouting smile retained, adjusting the open collar of shirt as she'd make her way down stairs. The Inn was filled with milling throngs, denizens of sin, of shadowed worlds and less than stellar occupation, almost a bridge to the world she'd known within the Gloom, thoughts dismissed as she'd work towards the exit.
Almost there, but then, the opening of the door, letting figures within; those familiar faces, her own eyes widening before she'd duck and move to a table, half turning, now not so confident that her spell would truelly keep her disguise. From the seclusion of her corner, she'd watch as that delicious man entered, followed by atleast four others within his regiment. Still, their heraldry not recognized, frustration making a sound that caused the figure next to peer over, snort and turn away. It caused her to shift more so on her stool, half away from them, allowing her to watch with unobstructed view as they took their seat, speaking to each other in a dialect that was out of place as their uniforms were.
Her man, well, the one she was most interested in, sat slightly apart from the others. His smile was quick when called for, but he retained that aloofness of one who was simply there for his men. Obviously not for the woman, for there were more than enough, their bodices hanging low, dredges of society truelly she thought, with a soft wrinkle of her nose. There was even, some feline slut she mused, who had the gawl to try and straddle the man's thighs and thrust her ill-covered breasts into his face.
That was enough for her! Something as dark as it was disgusted rising up, like bile in her throat, making her stand and stride forward. Sutara hadn't even realized what she was doing, or what she intended on doing, when her hand came down upon the exposed shoulder of the feline whore.
One could see the widening of her Captain's eyes from behind the boxom wench, eyes she stood firm in disregarding as she pulled hard upon the catling to dislodge her suctioning mouth from his.
"WHAAAAA!" the caterwhaul rang out, the feline's ears twitching madly as she twisted to avoid a face plant on the floor, eyes glaring with spitfire in her own. Sutara simply returned the stare, for a moment her own burning with something beneath the faux-color of those irises, before she would simply lift her foot, and push forcefully at the girl's exposed bottom.
"Ok, seriously, your disgusting mine senses. Get the fuck out." Sutara would demand, pointing with one hand in some imperious manner. She knew others were watching, some gaping, others ready to raise all hell. That's when she began to feel this might have been a slight mistake, eyes darting from the feline to her Captain, retaining that narrowed eyed visage even as she would feel the slight intrusion of doubt.
Perhaps he sensed it, perhaps he simply wanted the feline slut away from him as well, for in the next instant a smile split those sin-for lips of his, a hand coming down upon her forearm. It caused a moment of panic, thinking perhaps he had seen through her disguise, but the band of his fingers were loose, a caress almost.
"It seems you've made my little lady love jealous, so, I think it would be best, if I decline your offer. " his voice was smooth, rich, cultured and somewhat accented. The accent, familiar, but not something she could place right off the bat. It brought her in like fish to a net, staring at him as he shrugged off the laughter of his men, the glares of the woman, and would stand. Just the briefest gesture of his, indicating they should find somewhere else. That was fine for her, wasn't what she needed? To better find the information only he could provide? Those thoughts churned, producing a smile upon those dark lips.
"My name is Mathias, what's yours? You know, that was quite an aggressive move back, perhaps more aggressive then the feline" he would lean in, whisper into the curve of her ear, producing a shiver down her spine.
"Lyssia." she would whisper back, thinking, what harm could it be? Her smile still firmly in place, as he would lead her to the stairs and where undoubtedly one of the more private rooms would be.
Oh, he wouldn't know what hit him.