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       #Post#: 4675--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: August 6, 2014, 2:00 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       I'm on a friend's computer (And he's creepily reading over my
       shoulder XD)
       So here's the next chapter, and after this is new stuff.
       Enjoy!
       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
       Glasses clinked together, and happy lips parted as they drank
       the sweet wine of Skingrad. Blanche and Samara grinned at each
       other as Shakh celebrated with a few Fighter's Guild members.
       "To Welkynd stones!" Samara said. "And learning that not all
       bandits are snaggletoothed ruffians with hive-minds!"
       "Also!" Blanche grinned. "To successfully treating my first
       on-sight battle wound. And the patient lived!" They drank, then
       set their glasses down.
       "Your cheeks are red," Samara pointed out to Blanche, touching
       her own cheeks and laughing, then laughing harder when Blanche's
       blush deepened. A loud bang on the table made both of them jump,
       and Blanche slid her arms around Samara's waist, a frightened
       look on her face.
       Shakh laughed. "Look at you two gettin' all cozied up!" He
       swayed a bit. He let out a loud belch, and Samara gagged, waving
       her hand in front of her face.
       "Gods, that's disgusting!"
       "Don't act like you don't do it!" Shakh laughed before
       sauntering off. The two giggled at him when he looked confused
       and sat at the wrong table. Samara looked down and saw Blanche
       staring at her.
       "What are you looking at?" She asked, leaning in to speak in her
       ear over the loud noise. Blanche looked down at what Samara
       guessed was her chin, then blushed again.
       "I-nothing."
       Samara yawned. "Oh, good. Wine makes me sleepy." She gave
       Blanche a smile. "You wanna head to bed? We've got a carriage to
       catch tomorrow."
       "Uhhh..." Blanche suddenly seemed unsure. "I'll be up in a
       little bit. I wanna finish this wine."
       Samara shrugged and went upstairs, unaware of Blanche staring
       holes into her. One inside the room, she began to shed her
       clothing, simple black felt pants that Blanche insisted on
       buying for her, as well as her dark shirt, one that Blanche also
       made her wear. She dropped it on the floor and turned around
       when she heard the door open.
       "Oh, hi, Blanche. I figured you'd enjoy the rest of the wine
       instead of gulping it." She smiled at Blanche before unclasping
       her bra and letting it drop.
       "S-Samara?"
       "Hmmm?"
       "Can we go to bed now?"
       Samara gave her an odd look. "That was...the point?" She slid on
       a sleeping shirt, a large man's shirt she had seen in a shop one
       day and fell in love with, and slid between the covers. After a
       moment, Blanche followed.
       "Blanche, you're still wearing your robes."
       "I, uh...I know. I'm very comfortable."
       "Take it off. You'll get hot and make me hot. Besides, if you
       puke, you'll regret it."
       Blanche shucked the robes off and kicked off her shoes, her face
       reddening. Samara didn't notice and leaned over Blanche to turn
       the lantern off. A small gasp escaped from her lips when a hand
       slid up her back, under the shirt. She looked down at Blanche,
       surprised.
       "Did you?"
       "I'm sorry! I'll sleep in another room!" Her movement to sit up
       was halted as Samara planted herself on Blanche's hips. The
       redhead leaned in, lightly caressing the blonde's earlobe with
       her tongue.
       "Don't move a muscle."
       Blanche gasped in surprise when Samara pinned her arms above her
       head. "I'm going to have fun with you, darling." The younger
       woman said in a low voice before planting kisses on Blanche's
       neck. Small gasps pierced the quiet air as clothing slid against
       bedsheets, and the sound of kisses punctuated the air as lips
       met.
       Samara cut the lantern off as she let Blanche's arms go. As the
       light went off, Samara let out a loud moan, Blanche's hands
       keeping busy. The rest of the night was not much quieter
       #Post#: 4703--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: Callidus Thorn Date: August 7, 2014, 3:33 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Well, to forestall any pms about this, I suppose I'd better
       comment :P
       *Reads*
       Heehee. :)
       So next time there's new stuff? Awesome ;D
       #Post#: 4759--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: King Of Beasts Date: August 8, 2014, 1:45 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Yay, new chapter  ;D
       And this one is more fun than the others to a certain point  :P
       #Post#: 5064--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: September 9, 2014, 6:20 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Thanks for you patience, y'all :]
       Luckily with all the time I've had on my hands lately, i've been
       able to put work into two chapters after this one. I just wish I
       was this inspired when it came to NEIS :/
       ~~~~
       The weeks passed by in a blur after they got back from Hrotunda
       Vale. Blanche spent whatever time she had free with Samara, who
       spent her free time in bed with Blanche. The time between
       afternoon and dusk was bliss for the two women, who spent their
       time exploring new things and enjoying their discoveries. One
       such pleasing discovery for Blanche was that Samara was actually
       talented at Illusion and Destruction magic. Blanche was
       determined to expand Samara’s skill, and gave her lessons
       whenever the two of them came up for air.
       “I don’t want to get up,” Samara yawned one afternoon. Blanche
       rubbed the area above Samara’s navel gently with her fingers,
       tracing the intricate and colorful tattoo that wound its way
       under her breasts. Blanche traced the leaves of the green vine
       on Samara’s skin as if she were drawing it out herself. She
       kissed the colorful nightshade on Samara’s ribs, making the
       redhead sigh in delight.
       “Then don’t,” Blanche shifted closer to Samara and kissed her
       cheek. “Stay here, with me.”
       “Mmmm, tempting.” Samara rubbed Blanche’s bare shoulders as the
       blonde tried to pin her to the bed.  Blanche leaned down to kiss
       her, and ended up getting flipped onto her own back. She let out
       a light sigh as the redhead kissed the nape of her neck. The
       sheets and bed Samara’s estranged father had gotten her were far
       more comfortable than anything Blanche herself own, despite her
       mother’s riches. Blanche had helped buy Samara matching
       furniture, though Samara insisted she didn’t, knowing she would
       be the target of many thieves.
       “I really should go,” Samara said as her kisses traveled lower
       to Blanche’s breast. A hand and mouth worked together to make
       the blonde purr.
       “I don’t see you running out the door,” Blanche said
       breathlessly, gently running a hand through Samara’s hair before
       her head went lower. Samara made a satisfied sound that mingled
       with Blanche’s own startled gasp. Waves of pleasure shot through
       her legs and up her back as Samara used her mouth and hand to
       makee the waves stronger. Soon, Blanche’s body was rocking
       against Samara’s touch.
       There was a knock on the door, making Samara pause slightly.
       “Don’t stop!” Blanche pleaded as she caught Samara’s lips with
       her own. The redhead let out a longing sound.
       “Could be important,” she murmured between kisses.
       “More important than this?” Blanche’s hand traveled down and
       made Samara gasp. The knocking became more insistent as Samara’s
       breaths quickened.
       “Just a moment!” Samara’s voice sounded higher-pitched than
       usual. Blanche giggled into Samara’s mouth as they eagerly
       kissed.
       “Samara.”
       The voice made Samara stop and push Blanche’s hand away. She
       quickly slid into some pants and a light shirt, wiping her face.
       “Samara-” Blanche protested before Samara flung the door open. A
       tall, fair-skinned Nord woman with raven hair looked down at
       Samara.
       “Alda?” Samara’s voice was shocked.
       “You’re in danger,” Alda said, authority in her voice. Blanche
       felt panic rise in her throat, but Samara responded with anger.
       Samara’s wrist was in Alda’s hand, blocking the slap that
       Blanche hadn’t seen her try to deliver.
       “Samara, stop.”
       “You think you can come here [I] a year[/I] after you abandoned
       me, and tell me I’m in danger? Who do you think you are?!”
       Samara’s chest heaved, and her eyes blazed. Alda only blinked
       calmly back at her.
       “Trust me, Samara. You need to get out of the city, now. Did you
       hear about Bruma? That’s about to happen-”
       “No! There’s no way you could know about that!”
       “Do you not remember what happened back in jail?”
       “Jail? You were in jail?” Blanche’s voice was incredulous as she
       came up behind Samara, no longer content with listening on the
       bed. The sheets were wrapped around her naked body. Alda gave
       Blanche a strange look.
       “Who’s this?”
       “What do you care?” Samara snapped, finally yanking her hand
       away. Alda’s stern look didn’t budge.
       “Because I love you. Now get out of your house, before this city
       is destroyed.”
       “You don’t get to tell me what to do!”
       [I]”Samara!”[/I]
       Alda’s voice startled Samara, and she recoiled slightly. Alda
       took a deep breath.
       “I was there when the Emperor died. In order to protect you, I
       had to leave you.”
       “You were there?” Samara looked uncertain.
       “Yes. I had to find his bastard son so the Dragonfires could be
       re-lit. Those Oblivion gates? They’re going to open one right in
       the city, like they tried to do to Bruma. I’ve been closing
       gates left and right as fast as I could, but it’s too much for
       me. Mehrunes Dagon will be attacking the city soon, and if you
       died…”
       “But where could we even go, Alda? If there are gates open like
       you said, then there’s no way any of us are safe.”
       “There is one place, near Bruma. I’ve given this some thought,
       Samara. I could sneak you in, you’re capable of being undetected
       for as long as you want.”
       “And Blanche?”
       “Who?”
       “My girlfriend.” She pulled Blanche closer, unaware of the
       uncomfortable look she had on her face. Alda’s eyes were cold as
       steel.
       “One of you, that’s all.”
       “Then I’m not going.”
       “Samara!”
       “No, you’re crazy! You left me to follow someone you SAY was the
       Emperor, and disappear for a year, then come back and DEMAND I
       leave my girlfriend behind, and come with you Bruma? No. Get
       out. Get out of my house.”
       “I paid for this house, too! My name is on the deed!”
       “I declared you dead six months ago, Alda! This place is mine!”
       Alda looked shocked, the expression finally breaking the steely
       gaze.
       “I see. I don’t know what I expected. You are the master of
       moving on, Samara.”
       “I am very uncomfortable,” Blanche blurted out. She turned red
       when the two women looked at her. Alda turned her gaze, once
       again calm, back to Samara.
       “Goodbye, Samara. I was hoping you’d come with me, but it seems
       I go alone to Paradise.” She turned and left, and Samara shook
       her head.
       “She’s absolutely mad!”
       Blanche closed the door, still looking uncomfortable. “What did
       she mean by Paradise?”
       “I have absolutely no idea.”
       Samara dropped the sheets around her body, and Blanche let out
       an appreciative sound as she surveyed her lovers tattooed body.
       Along with the vines depicting nightshade, the petals of the
       blossoms exploding in arrays of blues and purples along her
       hips, stomach, and ribs, she had tattoos of Ayleid and Dwarven
       script on her body, single words that were supposed to mean
       words of encouragement. Blanche wasn’t going to tell her that
       the words were not only entirely incorrect, but misspelled as
       well.
       But Blanche’s favorite tattoo of Samara’s were the dragon wings
       on her back, a red and black, along with a small wolf on her
       ankle. The wings went from her shoulders to the swell of her
       rear, magnificent in detail. They were slightly torn, with holes
       here and there, as well as ragged along the edges. Blanche
       looked up at Samara’s face finally.
       “You’re going to hate me for this.”
       “What?” Samara poured herself a glass of wine, filling the cup
       nearly to the brim.
       “The Arch Mage wants to send me to Vahtacen.”
       “Where?”
       “It’s an Ayleid ruin. I…may have started taking more classes at
       the University instead of working at the Temple.”
       Samara wasn’t sure how to feel. Two emotions crossed her face;
       confusion, anger, then confusion again. Blanche raised her
       brows.
       “Samara?”
       “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
       “I don’t know! I thought you would think less of me if I stopped
       working. I thought you’d be angry that I can afford to go to
       University, and you can’t.”
       Samara knew what she was feeling then.
       “Excuse me?” Her offense showed on her face. “Blanche, you’re
       not responsible for my feelings. I would have been happy for
       you. But now I’m angry, and hurt.” She set the cup down and
       crossed her arms. Blanche had her gaze cast on the floor as she
       began dressing.
       “Where are you going?” Samara demanded. Blanche briefly glanced
       up, then kept dressing.
       “I have to go pack. He wants me there within the week.”
       “Fine. Go. I don’t care,” Samara huffed as she turned around,
       picking the cup back up. She only turned back around when the
       door closed, finding herself in an empty shack. She downed the
       rest of the contents of the cup and sat on her bed, fuming.
       #Post#: 5067--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: King Of Beasts Date: September 9, 2014, 7:46 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       So Alda finally decided to come back, hmm?
       I wonder what kinda trouble Samara will get into of those gates
       open lol
       #Post#: 5591--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: Elisabeth Hollow Date: October 9, 2014, 5:33 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       Thunder rolled in the distance, the sound resonating in Samara’s
       chest. She sighed and woke up, her red hair curled in a few
       places from sweat. Blanche had been gone for nearly two weeks, a
       time frame Samara could do without. Sliding from bed, she laid
       on the dirt floor for a moment before suddenly sitting up.
       A loud explosion shook her house, and Samara threw her door open
       in time to see the storm wasn’t a normal storm. The sky was as
       red as blood, boiling angrily with molten lava. Flecks of star
       bursts winked in and out from behind the tumultuous waves of
       reddened clouds.
       It was horrifyingly beautiful.
       The beauty was soon forgotten as she realized the sounds of
       screams were piercing the air. The air was hot and thick with
       heat and the smell of sulfur and blood. Members of the
       Waterfront, people she had known her whole life, were running
       from armored monstrosities and creatures from nightmares.
       Horned, humanoid creatures with blackened teeth and faces
       wielding hateful-looking swords cut down people she had cared
       for over the years. Blood splattered on the ground, and sizzled
       on the molten armor of the horrific creatures.
       She closed her door.
       Inside the darkness of her house, she slid her armor on, the
       soft leather shimmering with enchantment. Out of everything she
       did, this armor was the one selfish thing she did for herself.
       It hid her identifiable curves, giving her slimmer, smaller
       look. She tied her hair back and slid her mask on, her vision
       sharper and clearer. She sighed as she slid her greaves on,
       feeling the rejuvenating effects of the spell strengthening her
       limbs, opening the valve of her magicka more, letting it flow
       easier. Her boots strengthened her legs and made her limbs more
       flexible, and her steps quieter.
       She threw open the door, her steely resolve dissolving when the
       figure of a man stood in her doorway. She took in a breath to
       scream, and nearly instantly a hand covered her mouth.
       “Quiet,” he hissed. “Don’t draw attention to yourself!”
       She struggled, pushing away. She seethed in anger when she saw
       his face.
       “What are you doing here, Imbel?” She spat.
       “No time,” his elven armor gleamed in the roiling red light.
       “Can you fight?”
       She looked at the dagger with disgust, but took it anyways. “Not
       with this,  not very well. I only use my hands and a bow.”
       “Just like your mother,” he muttered before checking behind him.
       The monsters were still occupied with other victims. “That won’t
       do well with them. They’re from Oblivion itself, and their armor
       will burn you, and the arrows will bounce off. Follow me, and
       keep out of sight.”
       She obeyed, grabbing her bow. “But-”
       There was a roar as a large, dark-furred beast began tearing its
       way through the dremora. Jakben grabbed her arm and pulled her
       along. Samara swore she heard him say “Prestley,” but before she
       could really absorb the situation, they were running past the
       chaos and into the shadows.
       “Where are we going?” The volume of Samara’s voice didn’t matter
       over the screaming and odd pulsating, humming noise.
       “The Temple! We’ll be safe there.”
       “We should stay out of the city, make a break for an old fort
       I’ve got cleaned out.”
       “You mean Fort Homestead?”
       “How’d you know?!”
       A dremora saw them in its peripherals and turned towards them.
       It pulled out a sword that seemed to be made from hot coals and
       blackened steel and walked towards them.
       “Jakben-” Panic was in Samara’s voice as she reached behind her
       to grab an arrow as Jakben’s elven shield blocked a blow meant
       for her head.
       “I forgot my arrows!”
       “Just stay back!” He grunted as the dremora pushed him back with
       sheer strength, sending him a few steps backwards. A strangled
       laugh, almost gurgling, came from the monster’s throat as it
       advanced on Jakben.
       “Why don’t you stab it?” Samara offered.
       “What a wonderful idea! I should have thought of that!” Jakben
       spared an eye roll before the dremora attacked again,
       mercilessly beating on Jakben’s shield. He cried out through
       gritted teeth as a crack was heard. The dremora gurgled in
       laughter once again.
       “Foolish mortal! I have wounded you.” The voice grated in
       Samara’s ears like steel in a dying man’s throat. “Prepare to-”
       There was a small, unprotected area at the base of the neck that
       Samara had noticed. Once the dremora turned its back, she
       plunged the dagger into its throat. She hissed in pain as the
       armor burned her skin, causing her wrist to blister up nearly
       immediately. It fell to its knees, then fell over. Jakben looked
       relieved.
       “Thank the gods! I thought I was done for!” He groaned as Samara
       helped him up, looking around cautiously.
       “Do you feel that?”
       He nodded. “The air changed. We need to get to the Temple.”
       The air rumbled with an energy that Samara had never felt
       before. She rushed on with Jakben, the energy pushing and
       pulling at what seemed to be their very souls. She felt her very
       essence jump as a bright, fiery explosion littered the sky with
       embers, two gargantuan figures, one shaped as a bedazzling
       dragon, and the other as fear incarnate, swung and bit, clawed,
       and lunged, crushing the districts beneath them.
       Everything stopped as the two battled, and Samara suddenly had
       an instinctual feeling that they should be nowhere near the
       city. She grabbed Jakben’s hand, ignoring the startled look on
       his face as she pulled him away from the city. Bodies littered
       the districts as they sprinted between alleys, dodging swinging
       axes of Mythic Dawn agents and dremora alike. Suddenly Jakben
       slowed.
       “Where’s your lover?” The raging battle was near-deafening, but
       Samara heard him, just barely.
       “Not in the city!” They reached the gate, which was ajar after
       the guardsmen abandoned their posts. Once they were out, the air
       seemed thinner, more calm as a final burst of light blinded
       everyone in the city momentarily. Both Jakben and Samara covered
       their eyes as the entirety of Nirn filled with deafening
       silence.
       #Post#: 5606--------------------------------------------------
       Re: At my Feet (R)
       By: King Of Beasts Date: October 11, 2014, 10:04 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       She should've left the city when she was warned lol
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