09
07/20/2007

GM: Saras pauses, glancing away while he thinks, and then asks, "What would you have me do with the bracelets from your proposal to me? I have thought of putting them into a display, or remaking them into something else, or even destroying them so that they would not raise a sigh from me each time I rediscover them, but... I have never followed through, not knowing what they might mean to you now."

Helena: I blink, smiling at the memory, laughing a little at Hoss's commentary which comes back clear in my mind's ear. "Um... I had no idea you had kept them. I don't know... Why do they make you sad?"

GM: "You were great sport that night, but now... I fear you have darker memories to contend with. That game feels denied us."

Helena: I smile in puzzlement and then realize. "Oh. I hadn't actually thought... Oh." My face clouds. "I don't know," I whisper, honestly.

GM: Saras smiles just enough to let you know that it is all right. "If you wish, one night, say the word. If that night never comes, so be it. I would never have you fear a night with me, no matter what."

Helena: "I don't know." I frown at the repetition. "What I remember now is... enjoying you so completely, and being so alive with you, and what it led to." I splay out my fingers so the ring shows. "If you can stand me changing my mind, I can be up for... playing that way again. It would not be you I would fear; I know that."

GM: He takes your displayed hand in his, turning the ring to catch the light. "Perhaps, when we return, we may roll our duel into our lovemaking. I will halt if you need; I know you trust that."

Helena: "I do. I trust you completely." I kiss him long and slow, with promises for later.

After a while I say, "Shall we go dancing tonight? Or is there some production on at the theatre we should catch on a rare night home? Or fencing? Or we could go inside, and I could tell you about how Random had an unfortunate accident today, and we could spend the evening making love?" I look up at him and smile brightly. "I suppose that last's not fair, as I would probably spend some part of the evening making love to you in any case..."

GM: "There is nothing unfair about that," he answers, smiling. "Do you think Alma will be bothered to have Avye so long? There is a play I heard of that may be a pleasant diversion." The play he names is something of a comedy in Shakespearean style, with many veiled (and not so veiled) jabs at the victors of the last war. It is not popular, exactly, but has garnered quite a following in quieter circles. The Underways Troupe of Rajas (a minor House famed for Theater and Sorcery) is performing it tonight at a small venue in Hendrake, and they begin a six Turning stand at the Jesby Estates Round two nights hence.

"We could come home and fence after, and then love each other to sleep, if you are offering."

Helena: "That sounds completely marvellous, if you can get tickets. I would enjoy that very much."

GM: Saras believes (accurately, you later learn) that he can make an arrangement. Do you want seats in a box, or in the floor gallery? Do you dress to the nines, or more subdued? Plan for dinner out, or when you get back home? Any other details?

Helena: Well dressed but not flashy; Zaran is very decorative. ;-) Dinner can be wherever Saras would like; is there someplace he's been wanting to go or try? I can't think of any others...

GM: There is a restaurant in Hendrake called Dragon and Phoenix that does marvelous things with roasts of various flying beasts. Saras knows the sous-chef. ;-) The play starts rather late, so he thinks to eat first. Any going's on over dinner? Ordering adventurously, or seeing what they do with an old favorite?

Helena: He knows the sous-chef, for Serpent's sake! I plan to order the chef's recommendation. And I am happy to be as adventurous as they would have me be. Public Displays of Affection as inspired!

GM: The chef ignites a Drake in Pyretic Cherry sauce right at your table, making much of a show of it. It is such a massive undertaking that you and Zaran split this special, and even have a bit to take home after. Zaran is open to PDAs, and your mutual affection draws less attention than the explosive dinner.

The only distraction is the occasional flare or outline of blue fire in your other eye when a diner receives or makes a Trump call. Is that any bother?

Helena: Uh... I don't know. Is it? Is this something new I'm noticing; is it building up; or has actually it been reactive that way since we first noticed the Trump effect?

GM: It has been reactive in this fashion all along, but you have not been in the presence of Trump use much in recent months. You would have noticed it Trumping back and forth from the mines, but it's hardly a distraction when you're using it yourself. The sensation isn't painful - a faint chill at its worst, and none of these are even that powerful.

Helena: So a slight bother at the few times I'm trying to concentrate on something else. I presume this is something I made Saras aware of before, and thus my occasional blink and head turn is not troubling to him. If he asks I will mention, "Trump," in a low tone.

GM: He does ask silently once with a touch of his hand, but otherwise he lets it pass, relatively unworried, if not unconcerned.

Box or floor seating for the theater?

Helena: Oh, box if we can get it. Private. Just because it is special. But if we can't, I am completely happy with floor seating.

GM: You got a decent semi-private box, divided from the other couple with a heavy curtain.

The performance is well layered and suitably funny. Most every character seems drawn from caricature of Amber nobility, though not so blatantly that they can be easily identified at first glance or even first lines. Benedict, Caine, Corwin, and Julian's counterparts seem to receive the greatest skewerings, by pun and by the bold auburn hero, while the interchangeable vacuous princesses leap from lover to lover and loyalty to loyalty quite thoughtlessly. The redheaded princess does a fine bit of knife juggling, and the choreography of swordplay is truly remarkable for a comedy.

Helena: Nicely done! Those bits that seem very true to me make me smile. I am in the mood to try and appreciate a comedy, I think.

GM: At the curtain call, as the players come out to take their bows, the playwright makes an appearance. It is difficult to make out his black hair and blue eyes against the overwhelming flare of Trump surrounding him, intense enough to freeze your eyelashes beneath your patch.

Helena: I push back in my chair and try to turn my head from him, forgetting for a moment that the glare will still be visible. To avoid making an inadvertent shout I just grip Saras's arm. When I can manage it I will whisper, "Trump... extremely strong. It..." I gesture towards the eyepatch, grimacing.

GM: With his hand over yours on his arm, he assists you, mentally and with a small nudge of shift that might make the chill bearable if not entirely manageable. Do you resist his aid at all? Will you let him see what you 'see'?

Helena: I don't resist him; I let him see.

GM: Saras, marvels at what you are sensing. He measures what you 'see' against your usual response, and just boggles. "What is this man dipped in?" his mind asks yours, mostly rhetorically.

Helena: "Blood of Amber, of course. Directly or by proxy. Look at him."

GM: "But how? They don't look like THAT! Trump is not Pattern."

Helena: I shrug, still wincing. "Can we go?"

GM: Saras nods, giving you a hand up.

Helena: I lean on him more than I meant to, and walk along, using his guidance with the distracting Trump vision interfering with my own.

GM: Distance is of no use until you pass through a Ways veil, and then the sensation is gone.

Helena: I put out a hand for a wall, and rest a moment in relief, sighing. I give Saras a tight smile. "They're everywhere, eh?"

GM: Slight tinkling behind your patch as the lashes shed frost. Saras keeps a hand in reach. "What convinces you that he was of Amber?"

Helena: "Nothing. Stupid logic. My mind jumped at the association between the subject of the play and his appearance.

"That, and I know few in Chaos who would squander such power so flagrantly. But there are some, of course."

GM: "He betrayed no concentration. How could he do that without... effort of some kind?"

Helena: "Could be... a projection of some kind? Or Trump as a shield, in case he anticipates danger."

GM: "Did you sense a connection elsewhere? A threat in the crowd?"

Helena: "I did not."

GM: "Why would a playwright need either?"

Helena: "Either he thinks his play will draw an enemy eventually, or it amuses him or serves him to attract attention from those who can see it."

GM: "Yet, I noted no reaction from anyone else in the audience...."

Helena: I shrug, weary all of a sudden. "So maybe it was... tuned the same way as this eye. That would point to Caine's interference. Or to an art similar to his."

GM: "Certainly reasonable, given his probes of late. Do you mark this playwright as his spawn, or just some agent?"

Helena: "I have no idea. I don't know enough about the Pattern to have that sense some have of noticing others with it. And maybe that Trump shield covers that."

GM: "Loud Power over loud Power."

Helena: "Exactly. I would gather it could offend those strong in the Logrus."

GM: "I marked dozens in the crowd that had assayed, and yet they were all unmoved. If it was meant to cover Pattern, it must
have worked, unless they are all better actors than my eyes can uncover."

Helena: "I'm thinking these thoughts, too, but it is all conjecture."

GM: Saras eases you behind a pillar. "May I see the eye? I want to see if you are well there. If well, I may See after that... if you allow."

Helena: I nod. "Yes."

GM: He eases off the patch once you are in shadow, touching gently. Your skin tingles, but it is not as burnt as it feels. Then his gaze intensifies.

Saras backs up after a long minute. "It does not appear to be some external offense, at least. Would that I understood this damnable orb..." he growls.

Helena: "You or me. Did Alma speak to you of it or what she thought she understood of it at all?"

GM: "I never asked. Part of me feared she would take that as excuse to blind herself for you. Even in my study of you, what little Alma speaks of her Art is still jibberish to me."

Your eye socket is 'healing,' returning to normal.

Helena: "I know." I pause. "It is starting to feel better again, by the way."

GM: "Good." A gentle kiss. "Shall I take you home?" He is trying to perhaps salvage your evening

Helena: "Please. I hope to have shaken off this mood before <kicking your ass> fencing." (or equivalent colorful Chaosi term)

GM: He couches your arm around his. "Blades tonight?" He is preparing to put aside the wrestling you had spoken of earlier.

Helena: "You would let me defeat you so easily by choosing the arena of my strength?" I tease.

GM: "We have dueled with a leveler before... even a cheat, to gain the outcome we desire." Smiling, relaxing

Helena: "It would not be a cheat on the battlefield, to bring all ones resources to bear."

GM: He nods. "Excellent...." And he smiles all the way home.

Helena: I am infected by his smile. It puts aside the tension brought on by the strange Trump effect.

There is a new tension here, around our intended evening's games, but there is also the thought that this is Saras. The opportunity of trusting again... the power of its draw is at least as great as the power of the fear.

We cross the threshhold of my Ways, past the range of the cameras, and I ghost past my clothes in an instant and back to my human form, naked, taking a relaxed but ready stance as the fine silks drift to the floor without me.

GM: "You are a marvel, {beloved}." His eyes admire you as he begins to circle you, sizing up what tack to take.

Helena: "It is what we make of each other, my love."

GM: There are some tiny hesitations while he plots and maneuvers, likely thoughts of assurances and safe words and other precautions that he considers and discards. He must trust you as well; let himself believe that you would ask if you needed something more or something less from him.

Helena: I perceive that... and will probably process it further later...

GM: After a long moment, not quite a handful of breaths, he slips from his jacket, wordlessly calling the match on. As the hunter, he likely figures to be able to discard the rest of his evening wear at his leisure later... since he lacks your dramatic means of disrobing. A single bracelet appears in his left hand as he steps forward, his right hand reaching for your left wrist: a feint?

Helena: My smile stretches into a grin as I change my stance into one of readiness to respond to an attempted hold (he would recognize that, I would suppose), but I do not retreat, waiting for him to commit to this, in which case I will attempt to throw him, or to change his approach.

GM: There is truly little weight behind his right hand's reach, but as you turn to catch his left for your throw, you realize why, as the touch of his right hand snaps a bracelet to your left wrist from out of his sleeve or some other conjured space. However, there is enough distraction from that move for you to throw him hard. Aiming to put him on the floor, some piece of furniture, or someplace else? Do you seek to keep your hold on his left wrist?

Helena: Straight onto the floor, trusting his knowledge of falls to keep him safe.

I want to slip out of the bracelet while the fall distracts him from attaching any further enchantment -- if it's not too late already. I shift out of it and turn my hold on Saras's arm so that he can't catch it as it falls.

If I find I can't shift out, I use the hold to turn him so he's face down, half against the chair.

GM: Need to know if Helena is attending the right (perceived feint) or left (bracelet) attack from Saras. I understand the rest of your strategy

Helena: The hold or grab is coming from the right, so that's the one

I'll subvert to the throw if he follows through with it. If he moves with the bracelet, I will just dodge back all together, since him getting that on me gives him lots of extra options.

GM: To some extent, you're treating the feint as a real attack.

Helena: yes. It wasn't clear to Simone that it was definitely a feint... just that it could be. If it was more clear to Helena, then, yeah, she's all about watching his move with the bracelet.

GM: To Helena, it looks like a feint. Saras has outfoxed her before, but that is her impression of the move. Does that change your strategy?

Helena: Slightly; it means he won't be committing weight or momentum to that right hand, so a throw from there would be a lot harder. I'll go instead for his left wrist with my right hand, trying to turn into him (i.e. back of my arm along the back of his arm) to get the throw I'm looking for.

GM: His commitment to the right seems very limited, so that seems reasonable. By shift out, are you trying to mist free, or just narrow your arm somehow?

Helena: Whatever's quickest.

GM: A quick narrowing then, but the bracelet narrows with you, maintaining a consistent snug. Ingenious damned things.

Helena: I work on the hold on him a second, trying to keep him from concentrating, and then try to mist out.

GM: You go misty, but the ring hovers at the same height, following where your wrist should be. As soon as you release him, Saras flings a second band into your gaseous form, which begins to hover beneath where your head belongs.

Helena: Physical again, then, and think of a new way to get a hold of him. I must keep him moving before he can do much else with the bands.

GM: When you return to physical, the second band is a collar around your neck. How do you press to try to throw him off? While not smug, he seems pleased with himself, as if he imagined some of your responses beforehand.

Helena: Has he gotten back up?

GM: How quickly do you get back at him? Looks like he's prepared for a ground fight, but if you circle, he will kick to his feet.

Helena: I will wait for him to start to kick up, and when he is at the moment of least purchase, I will move in and put him down again abruptly.

GM: *Whoof* Smiling like he would laugh if he could breathe. What next?

Helena: Gain another arm hold, get him half up and turned away from me.

GM: Favoring your left (bracelet) or right?

Helena: mm. right. With the left prepared to push him away if he seems to be coming for me with another ring.

GM: You pin him, and you feel him dig in, seeking you resist you, even though your strength is superior so far. Then, you feel a pull, dragging your left arm up and back, caught in some web of force.

Helena: I take that drag as a hold point, and using it as leverage haul him upright against me. My right leg binds his left, and my left knocks his right foot out from under him, so almost but not quite too much of his weight is in that arm hold.

GM: He turns, suspended a long hard moment, and then you have him in a bad spot. By this point, though, your left arm is seemingly netted behind your back, forearm parallel to the floor. Next move? You could certainly break or tear something if you pressed him at all harder.

Saras grunts softly, pained but pleased

Helena: I tense there... "Release it, or I lift." There is joy of having... not quite won, but gained leverage, in my voice.

GM: You feel him move slightly, considering, and then your strength tails off slightly. He is able to buy himself some space, though he cannot twist free immediately. Do you press or reset?

Helena: I switch my grip, getting him flat on the floor with my foot on his underarm and my grip still holding up his shoulder. "Release it."

GM: "Will you trade an arm for an arm?" His legs begin to twist upward such that you think he might dislocate his own shoulder with his movement.

Helena: "Stubborn." I let him fall, and prepare to fight him with this one grip on my left arm.

GM: "A necessary defense, love," he explains. Do you circle, retreat, or seek a new opening?

Helena: my arm is pinned in one place, I take it? Seek a new opening, eithe rway.

GM: Pinned behind you, but not anchored in space. Saras retreats a step. Perhaps a sharp advance would take him off guard?

Helena: I smile, feint the advance...

GM: A bracelet appears in each hand, the right high, the left low. Seeking your free wrist and an ankle at once.

Helena: and then push back executing a tight flip. I intend the top of my left foot to clip the underside of his chin.

GM: You get the side of his jaw and his ear. He gains no purchase. How do you follow the flip back?

Helena: spinning kick to his upper arm. He's got the bracelets, which means I've got to be fast fast .

GM: The second kick he follows with a toss of bracelet, from the arm that you don't kick the crap out of. His arm drops to his side, but you have an anklet now.

Helena: crap! I grin, feral. Follow up with the reverse spin, going for that vulnerable elbow he's got out after the toss.

GM: Kicking again?

Helena: Fastest possible response: After the follow through on the kick to his upper arm, I'm in position for a hard downward strike with my forearm right angle to his outstretched arm.

GM: Glancing shot, and he catches your bound arm as he turns. You still can keep your wrist from his reach for the moment. Next move?

Helena: Elbow up and back at the side of his jaw, and follow the momentum to flip myself over that bound arm, so it ends up in front of me.

GM: The elbow shot is a good one, but your arm refuses to come forward as you hoped. Despite his daze, the move ends in a draw. Next idea, as he tries to thread your legs with his to still you?

Helena: Shift through myself, so my front is my back, reshaping the shoulder to tolerate it, and step up his thigh to push myself out of his grip and throw him back wards, sending me sailing a few feet.

GM: The shift is good, though not flawless, and you do throw yourself clear. However, the bracelet quickly compensates as well to put the arm behind you again. Saras's throw at your other ankle is wide as you spin for distance

Helena: (i'm imagining this fast I've-got-you-you've-got-me grip-trading martial arts scene ;-) Awesome.)

GM: (that's what I saw too - cool! :-))

Helena: I take a new stance, drawing ready.

GM: Saras steps back, then gestures at his missed bracelet to summon it back.

Helena: I put a hard underlay of marble beneath my skin. While he's got half an eye on his wayward bracelet, I dive past him to get a grip on his undamaged arm and spin him away with me

GM: He drops his summons abruptly, leaving it lie, and narrowly avoids your grip. Moving physically to the bracelet in the change of position now.

Helena: Push off the crouch I landed int to tackle him away from the bracelet, my shoulder in his side.

GM: He curls suddenly, rolling with you. You feel him reaching. Do you guard the arm or the leg first in your tangle?

Helena: I try for arm he's reaching with -- a sharp jab to the center of the underside of his upper arm that should numb at best and at least make him pause.

(So I guess that means I'm attacking rather than defending either ;-) )

GM: Sure. Saras just manages to release the bracelet in the direction of your ankle when you numb his remaining arm. It grabs hold, and your ankles link together, but you have one arm to his none
until he recovers. Next move?

Helena: I reach around and wrap my arm around his neck in a headlock, finding purchase against his side and the floor, pulling up onto my knees, his back against my front. I am within two or three seconds of choking him out.

GM: His chin ducks hard enough to keep you from his best blood supply, and then he kicks down on the join of the anklets to stretch your grip. How hard to you press to keep at his neck?

Helena: I lift as high as i can, trying to maneuver into a better spot. "Release or say good night." I rumble, half purring, into his ear.

GM: He eases up on your anklets. Is he relenting?

Helena: Since I don't quite have him yet, I just keep going for it... until and unless he drops them all together.

GM: He was possuming, and has to fight again to keep you out of his neck. You feel your strength waning.

Helena: Gah! A last pull, before I can't try any more.

GM: One of his arms finally responds, and the last bracelet is set... though you think he was going gray just before he hooked it.

GM: Reaction, as your other arm is pulled behind?

Helena: I resist it... holding... (but I suppose I can't resist it?)

GM: You try, but it seems irresistible... though painless, you note.

Helena: And I can't separate my ankles to stand?

GM: Nope, though you could hop or twist up if you tried. Wouldn't get far with him so close to you.

Helena: Right. Well, I strain my arms against the backwards pull of the bracelet. So he's got my muscles taut against the bonds, a look of ferocious concentration on my face. A sudden shift to my strongest form...

GM: You become fully marble, but cannot free yourself. Saras is watching, only a fraction of his concentration on repairing his limbs. Not smiling too broadly, but pleased indeed.

Helena: I bring my knees up suddenly to knock him over.

GM: He rolls back, caught hard... sprawls. Lying still, though breathing regularly

Helena: I test my bonds quickly... any change?

GM: Nope. Bound tight. Must be at least partly independent or preprogrammed

Helena: I follow up by nudging him over onto his stomach, and straddling the middle of his back. My joined ankles and feet press down on his lower back.

So he can't raise his hips up off the ground to stand.

GM: You pin him. He groans. "Sore loser," he jokes, coughing.

Helena: "You counted your victory before you had it, Teacher."

GM: "I suppose I did," coughing laughter... then your ankles pull up toward your wrists, and he rolls you off. "Or did I?"

Helena: "Ah!"

The change of position renews my struggling.

GM: He rolls away a bit, not trusting to recover in your reach. You really do have precious little mobility left, though. Feet above your waist, arms bound wrist to elbow.

Helena: I breathe hard a couple of times, just enough tension to sense if anything changes about my bonds. Watching him warily, half grinning, half that feral, fighting look.

GM: No changes present. He smiles, not at all put out by your final struggle. Though he is sore, he is quite thrilled.

Helena: "Happy with yourself, Sorceror?" I growl.

GM: "Are you happy, Unconquerable Changeling?" A soft pop as he resets something in his arm. He kneels near you again, though not in reach of your teeth, you note. ;-)

Helena: "I am happy to know more of how to defeat you next time." My grin is equal parts defiance and mischief.

GM: "You came very close too often, {beloved}. May I kiss you, or will that cost me my nose?

Helena: "I grant you a kiss, since I can't press my... obvious advantages just at the moment."

GM: Saras takes your face in both his hands - a little gingerly, given the abuse his arms have happily taken - and kisses you for all he's worth, long and passionate. When he pauses for air, his chest working hard to fuel ongoing passion and healing both, he steps away again, looking down at you with love and mischief.

"How much tighter would I have to bind you to gain your full surrender, {beloved}?" (Clearly only regarding tonight, not some ongoing bargain)

Helena: "Were you not so close, there are shapes I would try," I play-growl back, settling into human form -- except for wrists and ankles, so that I can still test occasionally without concern. "I suppose that means you haven't done it yet, but I haven't any ideas at the moment." I grin.

GM: "Would you prefer a truce or more sorcery before I carry you to our bed?" eyes full of laughter.

Helena: "Is 'neither' an option?" I show slight fangs beneath my smile.

GM: "If I carry you back with neither truce nor sorcery, what guarantee do I have against your teeth, {beloved]? I relish the fight still in you, but I'm not sure how much more I can endure and still be of any use for pleasing you. Of course, I could just take you here, if you don't mind the carpet beneath your struggles."

Helena: My eyes flash, and heat runs from my groin to the back of my throat. "Given I can't promise, it would have to be sorcery -- unless you think this carpet is safer for you than any other location."

GM: Waggling his eyebrows in playful menace, "Do you wish to be fixed as you are, or in the form of my choosing?"

Helena: "I have to say I'm curious... remembering that sometime I'll be free of this, and... I know where you sleep." Grin back.

GM: "Those truisms are rarely far from my mind, {beloved}." Smiling, though there is effort in his expression, he gazes upon you with the intensity of a Working. You feel him note your marble wrists and ankles, and his mind carries those forward into his design... and then you are in your entity shape, at least from the neck down, and heavy with milk besides. He is only a little careful of your teeth when he stoops to pick you up, favoring one of his arms still, you note.

Helena: I stretch a little against the bonds to show off to him what he has made of me, and noting I haven't got much way to struggle at this point that he can't see and intercept, I am good while he carries me.

GM: Saras sets you on the bed, arranging pillows beneath you (if you remain good), and then steps back out of the bedroom, shedding clothes as he goes. After a very brief moment, he returns, an ice bucket of champagne in one hand, a plate of snacks in the other, and not a stitch on him. You note - emotional reactions may vary - that he has a substantial bruise on his right arm, and he does not carry the champagne in that hand very far from his body.

Helena: I actually grin and feel (only a little) bad at the same time. "Love, give me a hand back to help heal your arm, and I swear to let you rebind it after before trying... anything else."

GM: He puts down your repast, leans in to kiss you, and you feel the force holding your arms back ease. "You fought well. No regrets." Both of your hands are freed, and the tug on your ankles eased enough for you to sit up comfortably. Do you hold to your word and help him knit? It won't take long with your skill in shepherding shift. Any struggling during or after the pull tries to bind your arms again?

Helena: No, bound by my promise, I help him, tender kisses for his chest and neck and mouth while I do so. When I am done, I give him a nod, my smile heading towards mischievous again, and let the bonds take back their hold.

GM: His kisses are small when you are free, but he comes back bolder when you have honored your promise. There's no lack of trust, as near as you can tell, just a reservedness while he was healing, so inward are his arts.

Instead of pulling your legs up again when your game resumes, he assembles a fine net of forces that holds your knees well apart, heels together. "I learned long ago to always eat what I catch." He pauses to lick his eyebrows before unbinding his hair and settling his hands on your knees....

Helena: My breath comes short at that promise and at the tension of being splayed for him. I am so heightened that just the touch of his hands, the slight brush of his hair against my leg, sends my head back with a moan.

GM: His hair covers much of his moves, and he is far more playful this time than last, full of surprises in his approach. He lets you be tickled by his attentions, lets himself go too fast or too slow as the mood takes him, and seems to enjoy making you squirm.

Helena: He must enjoy it, for the amount he's doing it. I alternately strain towards him, wanting more, and strain away when the intensity gets too great. I ache under his complete control, his timing and his skills and his whim commanding me utterly.

GM: Three times, he pauses shy of letting you go over....

Helena: By the third time I'm gasping, straining to reach him for just one... more... touch... _please please please anything_ it starts in my mind and becomes a small, incoherent cry.

GM: "Mercy, {beloved}?" he asks, flipping his hair back so you can see his dark joy.

Helena: My breath comes fast, flat through my nose. It's hard to parse what he's saying in the tangle of fire that my brain has become. I finally figure it, and give the tiniest nod. "yes. Yes, please, yes."

GM: Saras returns to you, his hair still flipped back, and at last he is merciful. Very, very good.

In the after, he climbs your body like a great, languorous snake, savoring your spasms and aftershocks. "A good hunter leaves nothing of his prey wasted." Before you are fully recovered below, he bends to your breasts, feeding as much as teasing.

Helena: The sense of being drawn from coupled with the sudden shock of his attention to my sensitized breasts sends another wave through me that I can hardly ride and stay conscious.

GM: He pauses when your eye rolls back a bit. "Stay with me, {beloved}. No rest for the wicked... either of us." Bends to tease that nipple, much lighter with lips and tongue.

Helena: I come back slowly, still on the edge of another, or the blackness, still jangling, and though it's easing, every touch is almost too much. "As you... require," I manage to get out, panting for air and stop and don't stop and endless more.

GM: He slows, becoming patient and tender, but he seems indeed intent on making a meal of you. If he can, he will let you have some of your sense, though keeping you buzzing as long as he can manage would be a prize he'd savor. Saras will draw slower to calm you or add hands and fingers to warm you, as needs be.

Helena: Without being able to pull away or adjust, he has me completely. Between his shifting and his complete control he has me exactly as he wants me.

GM: After an hour or two, he finally relents. He burps politely in thanks, dangling a few grapes just above your lips. "Peace, {beloved}, or do you wish for more?" He snuggles beside you, fat and happy, metaphorically speaking. Gently, he rubs your shoulders, continuing to offer you little snacks while you both recover and consider.

"You have healed me, freed me, given me the strength to try to love you as you deserve. I will always have something more for you, Helena fair, always." The sentimentality eases aside to make room for some teasing in his tone now. "Besides, my pretty prey has not kept such a fine count of my progress. Hands, yes; lips and tongue and mouth, yes... but another hungry part has hardly partaken of you at all." He begins kissing you - patient, teasing, or both - though he clearly needs no time to ready himself.

Helena: At his words my body has a moment to thrill to the picture of it, and another little cry escapes me. "I had not lost count... but I did not know if you had the energy for more." I run through the ripple shift, replacing like with like, and at the reset, anticipation and desire hit like a spike through my core.

GM: "After such a meal, I am certainly ready for more." More kisses, and while he maneuvers for position above you, you feel the net of force holding your legs unravel, allowing you some purchase, some means of holding on, should you wish.

Do you make any external changes in this shift, or is it just a moment of refreshment? You would feel some small resistance at first before Saras parts the conjured gate to let you flow as you will.

Helena: It is intended as a moment of refreshment, not to change what Saras has made of me. And this resistance... small as in I can overcome it and surprise him? ;-)

GM: You felt Saras' will behind the small resistance, so he is aware that you can shift as you will now. When he saw that you had made no move to actually undo his 'sorcery,' he did not bother reestablishing control, so anything further you might do could certainly be a surprise, were it quick or subtle enough. Your arms are caught fast, and your strength is still quite diminished, but otherwise you can move or shift as you wish... at least until he reestablishes what ties he has loosed.

Helena: His long attention having sated me -- over and over and beyond -- and this new attention piquing my interest and desire yet again, I am well up to playing to take his control. He'll have me when he is so desperate he can do nothing else -- or when I can do nothing more to delay him. I smile inwardly at the thought, and let the smile creep catlike across my face, telegraphing just a split second...

I snake 'round behind him where he's kneeling above me, knocking him forward onto the bed. My knees are outside his thighs, my feet between his knees. I shift my shoulders to bring my joined wrists and elbows over my head and around the front, so I can use my joined hands to pin his neck, and I lean forward over him.

I put my lips to his neck, just under his ear, and whisper against him so he can feel the tips of delicate teeth, "I see you are ready. But how badly do you want that last taste you have not had?"

GM: After a grunt and a growl, "Even more now than a moment ago, {beloved}. I am never fool enough to be lazy with you... though I must admit to some carelessness just now." You feel his shoulders move beneath you, as if he tests something internally. "Thank you for the stretch, Helena fair." Four slim limbs, each about the diameter of a lemur's tail, sprout from beneath his shoulder blades to grab your arms, and you feel a shift taking hold of his lower body as well. "I cannot hope to match your speed, but perhaps I can surprise you a time or two... and it is not as if you have taught me nothing in our time together." His neck is shifting to let him turn all the way 'round to face you.

Helena: I give a short laugh into his neck. "You have learned much." With a brief shift, I slip his grasp and kick off, using my hands at his collarbones as the point of a handstand flip. My hope is to land on my feet off the bed, facing away from him, and quickly step forwards and spin to face him and gain distance.

GM: The spin is a fine one, and you discover that even the bracelets are doing little to hold you at the moment.

A quick few moves later, you are out the door and into the black sand, with Saras just a dozen paces behind. After you vault the pillars to get into the meadow beyond, you feel your wrists being tugged again, pulled behind you so you cannot pump as hard when you run. At last the lead you had begins to narrow. What next?

Helena: Ah. And the terrain unfortunately does not become unpredictable until I make the trees, still at least a half mile away.... I plow in and switch direction to try and trip him up, rolling under his legs and up and away back towards the house....

GM: The move goes off very well, spilling Saras hard, but not so hard that you think he suffered much beyond a loss of wind. You are up and running toward the house. Maybe a dozen steps or so from rising from your roll, you catch a flash of bright yellow and vivid green in your peripheral vision, and then Saras plows into you at the end of his mighty leap, careful of his claws, but otherwise a brutal, beautiful leaping tackle, spilling you to the ground together in a tangle.

This is not Saras' usual demon-form. He looks far more amphibian, with the garish markings of a poisonous frog worn proudly rather than subtly, and by no means smooth below. The markings are apparently not for show, as everywhere he has touched feels a cool numbing that is spreading through your body. It may lead to paralysis, or at least shifter's inertia. Your instinctual shifting either doesn't recognize it as poison or can't isolate it to expel it. His legs encircle yours, and he hugs your upper body tight, trying to still you enough to activate the restraints again.

Helena: I quickly try to match his physiology, so as not to be affected... struggling hard while I do so, but if that doesn't work... just struggling hard, with the priorities of first disentangling myself and second getting back to my feet before he marshalls the cuffs back into play.

GM: The chemistry of what he is introducing into your system is fiendishly complex. By the time you have it countered enough to restore what strength the bracelets leave you with, your arms are caught very tight against your back, but he has not been able to catch your legs enough, odd as the construction of his own legs is at the moment (optimized for leaping only, it seems). Still he wrestles with you, trying to slide down enough to bring his arms into play on your legs without leaving himself open to a head butt or bite or kick (or accidentally catching you with his long claws, you note). The toxin from his skin has muted your shifting such that it would take a lot longer than usual to make any changes you wished.

Are you still leaving a portion of your concentration on the toxin, or just struggling physically now?

Helena: The threat of the claws does make me cautious, even if I know he wouldn't stab me on purpose. I turn all my attention to struggling physically, trying to get out of his grasp, especially during the awkward moment where he's trying to switch his attention to my legs.

GM: You do fight free with one good thrash at an opportune moment, with only a light scratch on the hip from his claws, but as you try to stand and run, the second toxin hits, and you crumple, limp as a rag doll. You will find that your voice still works, though softened from the paralytic in your veins. "Perfumes are my preferred outlet in chemistry, but it is hard not to be a student of poisons if one lives in Chaos long enough." Gently, he hauls your legs together, clicking the anklets tight to each other. "I imagine there are plenty of fine places in the woods for staking out game. Do you think you'll have the antidote puzzled out by then?" Unless you say something to pause him, he slings you over his shoulder and starts walking toward the tree line.
Helena: "What do you think?" I whisper, my eyes bright with lust and the chase and frustration and playful anger and admiration of him.

At being carried, helpless, there is a tiny squirm of worry, some echo I do not wish to recognize. I put it out of my head with imagining and anticipation of all he might do to me...

GM: Lust and nerves do nothing for your concentration, but by the time he reaches the trees, you are getting some motion back in your fingers and toes. However, Saras has already picked out a sturdy tree with a suitable slant to it. Pressing your back against the thick trunk, he forms the webs of force such to hold your wrists and ankles tight against the sides of the tree, leaving you almost no room to squirm. Around the time you have completed your purge of the toxins, Saras has completed his conjured lock of your shape-shifting. "Is the true visage of my youth appealing to you, or would you rather something more conventional?" referring to his current long-limbed frog-monster form.

Helena: "I would have you as will best give you the pleasure you have not yet taken from me. You are... extraordinary. Beautiful. And..." I glance at my trapped arms and legs, and the line of goosebumps that is running up my belly and across my chest, raising swollen nipples, "it appears you have caught me, {beloved opponent}."

GM: His body sheds moisture like a brief expression of steam before he touches you, raising a lily scent from his skin that pleases your senses. With some amusement, he notes that these long clawed hands slung with webbing can at last properly encompass the bounty of your current peaks. After the lightest scratches of your skin, you feel his claws grow round at the ends, that he might be less careful with your softness. The razor triangles of his teeth brush your neck, your shoulders, teasing without blood.

When his tongue tastes no more of his toxins in you, he draws very close; close enough for your lips and teeth to engage him at need. So slowly, he presses himself into you. Without you being able to shift, he is a bit large for you, but the excitement and his remaining care can help you forget.

Helena: The scratches quicken me, and to the extent I can I lean forward to press fully into his encompassing claws.

GM: His hands turn, lifting and rubbing by turns. Deeper he goes, closer he leans.

Helena: I am in a hurry to have him, to take him completely, but can't move forward any further, and his weight pushes me back against the tree. My breath comes short. Little gasps in response to each touch of his teeth and further inch of his penetration.

GM: His hands move wider, leaving his thumbs only to play. Lips and teeth close on your neck as he presses that male prominence into you until there is no more of you to plumb.

Helena: My head goes back, taking and submitting, wanting...

If he could devour me or we go through one another, it would not be too much.

That the strange mouth can encompass all my throat, the strange hands encompass all my chest... the strength...

GM: Simple pressure relents, then begins again... plumbing becoming a rhythm. Lines of red rise on your flanks, despite the engineered roundness of his claws.

He releases your neck with his teeth, licking up along your jaw... a hint of blood there now gone.

Helena: I am struggling now to keep up with him, to get ahead of him... to get away from him and get closer all at once.

GM: Teeth at your ear, a small nibbling surrounded by such heated breath. "Helena," he huffs.

Helena: My vision is light and stars. I cannot manage his name, but I mouth it.

GM: The tree bites at your back from the relentless pressure of him. His hands move as he leans right, one returning more fully to your breast, the other reaching around the great trunk toward your wrist, your hand.

Helena: I could not describe how it is possible to want more of him, somehow. That he fills me so much there is glorious pain at end of each thrust makes me want more; each scratch on my shoulder and throat draws me to struggle against that glorious mouth, to be marked by him, taken by him every possible way.

GM: At last, he swells slightly, making a last few strained thrusts before spilling enough that you actually feel some fullness from it. Blood trickles from your ear, your neck, though there is no room for pain yet.

Helena: I am close to sobbing from this ravishing, from the height of anticipation and mindless desire. I have no purchase from which to finish myself, and his pause at the peak of his climax leaves me shuddering, begging wordlessly.

GM: He shakes from his finish, now too engorged to move within you, in or out. Saras has to turn his head to keep from putting his teeth through your shoulder, or compromising more than the skin of your neck.

His fingers are intertwined with yours, the claws buried in the bark of the tree now.

Helena: The begging becomes voice, "Saras, take me with you, take me with you; don't leave me here; gods, Serpent, please... anything. Saras please..."

GM: "I... I...." His voice is a knot in his neck. He pulls back, a terrible friction at this size, very slowly withdrawing.

Helena: "Aaaah," spine arching in reaction... so close...

GM: He breathes, a shuddering deep in his chest, and then advances. It is nearly too much. Your legs tremble.

Helena: My voice is stopped, my gasps bring almost too little air. I feel I may faint, but struggle to stay and know the rest of this.

GM: When he can go no farther, he retreats again, pulling back. He is growling anew, maintaining his presence in you with will alone, he is so spent. The softening grants motion, but soon he may fall away.

Helena: His new motion after I thought him done... something unclenches within me and a series of hard ripples run through me, seeming to come from the back of my throat and all the way through my core to my sex around him. I do know stars, then, for a second or an hour. I am grateful for my bonds, or I would fall. My body is used and senseless.

GM: Saras falls at your knees, a slow slithering down your bound and angled body. "Nn... nothing left, {beloved}." His head comes to rest against your leg. "I am s-s-sorry."

Helena: An exhausted smile plays with my features, lifting them from near unconsciousness once and twice and again. I love you, I think I say, but I am drifting...

GM: "Ahh..." he whispers. "Not... thwarted...." He finds the strength to touch your other leg, to hang his hand there; a gentle shaking in his entire body.

Helena: Mmm... I sigh, and gone.

GM: Strange dreaming a while later... Loren?

Helena: hmm? muzzily, not at all alert.

GM: Coolness, an outline in the silver eye of his form. "Helena?"

Helena: not taking any trump calls right now, thanks, I think.

GM: seems you've already answered. Stunned silence from your father.

Helena: mm. I blink and try to raise my head, and then just let it fall back against the tree. Shaking my head to gain clarity, I mumble, "You should wait until a person really answers, Sir.

"I'll call you back."

GM: "I...." Silence a moment, a sense that he has shaded his eyes. "As you say." Connection cuts.

Helena: I blink for true... what time is it by the sky?

GM: Only a few hours into dark... was dusk for your chase.

Helena: Am I still bound to the tree?

GM: Quite. Saras curled at your feet.

Helena: In spite of my poor father's shock, I have to smile at that. "Saras, {beloved}," I say quietly...

GM: Saras does not stir.

Helena: I speak his name more loudly once more.

GM: A curling and turning.

Helena: My smile is a living thing, for fondness and love of him. "Saras, Lover, I need you. Wake up."

GM: Finally, he looks up, blinking away a hard earned sleep. "Hmmm?"

Helena: I smile down at him. "Love, I'm sorry. I need you to let me down. Father is... trying to call."

GM: "What?" he mumbles. Slowly, he drags himself from the ground, finding Zaran's shape, if not his feet yet, on hands and knees, seeking strength

Helena: "I'm sorry, just... let me down. We'll go straight back to the house and to bed, I promise."

GM: Mumbled. "Ah. Yes. All right." The rings release at once, almost dropping you onto Saras in the suddenness.

Helena: I am careful as I can be not to land on him.

GM: While you stand above him, he rolls onto his back, looking up at you. "Wait... Father... your father?"

Helena: I nod.

GM: Small laughs then, almost just a shaking with no noise

Helena: My legs are weak, but I am smiling.

"Come along, let's help each other back."

GM: "A moment," he asks, still laughing, then he at last can drag himself to his feet. The discarded rings leap to stack around his left wrist. "I may wish to be elsewhere when you return his call, if you don't mind."

You are in possession of all your powers at this point

Helena: "Coward."

GM: "Damn right, vixen."

Helena: I run through a quick replacement shift, making sure there is nothing left of injury about me.

"He can hardly blame you. He probably just wants to know when we're coming for Avye."

GM: Clean and clear now, though not badly hurt to begin with. "That would be my guess as well." He chuckles. "I should have left you on the tree and called myself to find out," snapping his fingers in mock regret.

Helena: "Excellent idea. I'll go clean up, and you call him back." I smile brightly and head down the hill.

GM: "Ah. But.... Oh." He follows, head down.

"Only because I love you," he jokes, as you enter the house together. Saras heads for your Trump deck.

Helena: I don't want to risk falling back to sleep immediately, and I do want to get cleaned up for Avye's sake and for a better rest the remainder of the night. I run a hot shower, leaving the door open for Saras to join when he is done.

... and perhaps to overhear.

GM: He makes the contact. Lots of 'yes sir', though he is almost certainly Loren's senior. Then, "Another night. Really? Let me ask Helena." He leans back to give you a look, the bracelets rattling on his wrist.

"Your parents would like to take Avye and the twins to Hanla's for some bragging."

Helena: "When?"

GM: (he is wearing a robe for the call) "A dawn party. Some grandparent festival I haven't heard of."

Helena: "Mmm, right. I presume he's calling you from somewhere Alma can... advise him?"

GM: "I can hear her... saying that she can hear you. Much laughing, my dear."

Helena: "Tell them that would be wonderful, if Avye is not being too much bother."

GM: And you do hear Alma laughing in the far distance, beyond the blue light show of your husband. "It's fine," he tells Loren. "Yes. Certainly. Perhaps you should expect such. Oh. Yessir." He cuts the connection.

Helena: I finish rinsing out my hair and give him a squint... "It ...sounded okay?"

GM: "Quite. Loren actually sounded like he wanted some more time to begin spoiling her properly."

Helena: "Lovely."

"We should have told them to ask again in three months when you've recovered."

GM: "I thought so." He opens his nightstand drawer, letting the rings fall in. "At least that long... give or take." A wink, and then, "Is there water left for me, {beloved}?" as he discards his robe.

Helena: I nod. "Mmhmm. Join me."

GM: He smiles, gladly following you.

Helena: I let him into the shower and help him wash all over, tenderly, sleepily ... now that I can let my second wind lapse since we don't have to pick up Avye.

GM: He offers you some of the same once you have washed him back to some semblance of life. "I would say that I wish I could have seen Loren's face, but I daresay it was still stuck at the same look of horror when I called him back." Chuckling

Helena: "Was it?" I grin, feigning innocence. "I suppose it was not the pose he expected to catch me in at that exact moment."

GM: "Or any moment, I daresay. Artfully draped with blood, so carefully hung for my pleasure..." he teases.

Helena: "Oooh, don't go there," I shudder even now with remembered pleasure.

GM: "Not for a few months, at least." Gentle touches, a wordless thank you. "You were exquisite."

Helena: "I felt exquisite. You were exquisite."

GM: A long exhale, a breath, and then a passionate kiss to close the evening. When you step from the shower, he towels you dry, seeming happy to have the original you back (yes?)

Helena: (yes)

GM: Once you're both dry, off to bed, to sleep this time....

Helena: Sleeping entangled, my head against his chest.

GM: His arm around you.