[ assassin's creed odyssey is very close to the format of netflix witcher/witcher 3 so maybe instead of geralt showing up to help her get a djinn it's kassandra. ]
as discussed! pls be gentle, I'm voicetesting~ (but concrit is always welcome too!!)
[ Isn't it strange, how priorities change? As a student of Aretuza, she was willing to trade her womb for beauty and power. She was hungry for it, and her ability to bear children seemed like a small price to pay, back then. But that was over thirty years ago now. Yennefer may not have aged a day since then, but she's matured, perhaps - or maybe she's just become hungrier still.
It's just as she said to Tissaia: she wants everything. Power, beauty, fertility. It's not even that she necessarily wants to be a mother, though. They took away something that was hers, and she wants it back.
Rinde is as good a place as any to start. Better, perhaps; the rumors say that there's a sleeping, captured djinn someplace nearby. And so once she's settled into the mayor's house, the man himself caught in her spell - the halfwit thought that he could imprison her, what a joke - she starts a long chain of whispers, beginning with that poor fool of an elf who believes himself in love with her. Soon, anyone in Rinde or its vicinity will know of a resident sorceress who can help townsfolk and passing travelers alike with any djinn-related issues.
Because there's no way she'll chase the creature down herself, no. She's no fool. Going after the djinn would be akin to suicide. Before she can absorb its power, it must be be freed of its prison, and to be freed of its prison, it has to grant three wishes to whatever master summons it from its vessel. To her knowledge, djinns are malevolent, abusers of loopholes, and they have their own way of twisting the words of the wisher into a result far less than ideal. Yennefer has no interest whatsoever in being a djinn's target practice.
And so the sorceress sits and waits, day in and day out, the townspeople of Rinde under her spell, the mayor's mansion an ever-extravagant party: rich foods, alcohol, orgies, and Yennefer reclining in the midst of it all, watching. Waiting.
[ There's talk about a witch that seeks a certain item. Kassandra is well-known throughout the land now as a woman who would take on any dirty job as long as there's money involved. A mercenary might have been a nice word for her, but her reputation isn't the greatest with how much blood stains her hands now.
That's why talks of a witch hardly sways her from the course of visiting this woman. She comes in with a sense of purpose, and though all of that seems to drop the moment she stepts into the premises. The place smells of alcohol and sex, disorienting her immediately. She can't help but gape at the amount of fun these people are having all around her, but she tries to stay focused on the task. The witch sits before them, watching and indeed waiting. It's as though she was always meant to arrive here and stand before her. ]
You must be the witch I've heard so much about, [ She says in a playful tone. ] I also heard that this witch in searching for a special artifact. One that only a mercenary like myself could possibly find. Tell me more, witch.
[ But of course it's a bloody mercenary. She'd rather been hoping that the man or woman to walk through the door would be in a spot of trouble, seeking for the kind of help that only a sorceress could provide. Just her luck, then, that the guest is instead the kind that will expect money from her in addition to catching her djinn.
It's not that money is an issue. It's just the bloody principal of the thing.
Still, she's hardly going to show her irritation to a woman she's only just met, and so Yennefer sits forward a little, an eyebrow raising in her visitor's direction. She sighs, and then with a single word -- ] Ragamuffin! [ -- the magic is dispersed, the orgy of townsfolk separating and staring. ]
The item I seek is likely an urn, but perhaps a bottle or jar, shut and sealed by a wizard. [ With light that trails shortly behind her finger, she draws a sigil in the air, and then another, representing what the seal may look like. The images glow for a moment, and then blink out. ] Something along those lines. It is an item of power. When it rests in your hands, you will know it for what it is.
[ She folds her hands under her chin, watching the other woman, as an idea sparks in the back of her mind, and a slow smile forms on her lips. ] I can offer anything you desire in return for its safe transport to me.
[ All she'll need to do is make a wish, or two, or three... ]
we can thread this part, then i can timeskip to when she returns with the urn?
[ So there's a sight to be audience to. With no magic at her disposal, at least not readily at her disposal, the sudden break of the spell does surprise her. All around her, the people are confused and shocked at what they were doing. Truly the work of a witch, and Kassandra knows then that this woman is no one to cross with. ]
That is quite a vague description of that which you seek. Don't suppose you would know of its last known whereabouts?
[ It's a longshot. If that were the case, she wouldn't be putting such a large prize for its recovery. Judging by her tone, Yennefer might surmise that she asks only in jests, but the next part is as serious as Kassandra can possibly be.
She steps closer to her makeshift throne and bows down near her crossed feet. ]
A powerful item. More powerful witch that seeks to retrieve it, even offers something as broad as anything as payment. I gathered this is no job for no ordinary mercenary, considering there aren't many men at your doorstep—
[ She gestures all around them suddenly, indicating the people who were most definitely spellbound. ]
Perhaps all these people are those who met the same fate by dissatisfying you?
[ And for the second time in as many minutes, Yennefer finds herself holding her breath against a hefty sigh of annoyance. Mercenaries! Just how many questions does one need ask, she wonders? That single eyebrow raises again, smug and superior, in response to the woman's questions, as she gestures around at the townsfolk, who are only just starting to gather their wits. ]
Ask yourself this, mercenary: do you truly believe I would grant such wondrous pleasure to those who cause me displeasure? [ Nay, in truth, the villagers were merely the result of Yennefer's boredom. Dissatisfaction would earn a person much, much worse.
Still, the bowing woman seems to be trying to make some sort of point, what with the way she talks, and so the sorceress straightens, watching her with a mild spark of curiosity. ] Tell me: what are your terms? If we are agreed, I will tell you what I know of the artifact's location.
[ Not that, admittedly, she knows a great deal. Really, the rumors told her that Rinde was the right place to start, and that is all.
Perhaps her nosy mercenary can discover more, once she has her on her side. ]
[ She's got a point, and it makes her laugh quietly to herself, as to not to offend the witch before her. ]
Mmm... makes sense. [ Kassandra says with a shrug. ] But me, I would not consider losing my inhibitions such a wondrous pleasure. Not that I mind with the right people.
[ This time, she winks toward the woman, clearly indicating that she's talking about her. Yes, Yennefer is indeed a beauty that she wouldn't mind bedding with, but... business first, right? ]
I am quite the easy misthios, you see? You give me a job, I fulfill your wishes and desires, and you compensate me with gold. There is no need to complicate things with the broadness of "anything," don't you agree?
[ But who is she to turn such an offer down? ]
However, if you do have time between your... festivities, I would like to see exactly what it is you are willing to do for this urn of yours. Call it parting gift.
[ Flirtatious, isn't she? And possibly rather troublesome, declaring herself to be happy only with gold. What Yennefer needs, perhaps even more than the urn itself, is someone who will free the djinn inside by spending its wishes.
Yes, troublesome indeed. But flirtatious? She can work with that. With a slow smile, one that carefully masks her irritation, she stands from the lavish bed that serves as her throne in the midst of all this, moving around to its side to procure a small bundle of dried herbs. ] Then we are in agreement, misthios. [ Not quite. She'll sway this woman to her will yet.
Sway, because this woman is too interesting to simply bend. ]
I did say anything, did I not? If you doubt me, I'm sure my magic will show you the depths of my desire... at least until a word of your choice ends the spell.
[ She raises her brows, waiting for an answer. If Kassandra agrees, gives her a word, Yennefer will light the herbs and blow the smoke toward her, the spell designed to cause an immediate arousal, but with inhibitions intact, until the word of choice is spoken. A hint of something more, something the mage will most certainly give to the person who aids her. Especially if that person spends the wishes of the djinn.
And if she refuses... well, Yennefer will just have to find another way. ]
[ So sorry for the delay in this response; it has been a bit of a time on my end!
I probably need to delete the wishlist thing; I'm lame and never got around to finishing them. But I would absolutely love to do something with these two! I'm a liiiittle out of practice with Tifa, and have been looking for the opportunity to bring her back out, so as long as you don't mind that, I'm down for pretty much anything at all! ]
[ I actually have not, yet! I finally bought it last weekend - tight finances due to covid, blah blah, but I just haven't had the time to actually play it yet. (but I'm cheating by using icons from the remake cos they're so much prettier than anything else.) once I get into a game I play it pretty heavily though so I'm sure I'll be finished with it pretty soon!
I did accidentally get spoiled and will confess that I am kind of disappointed about the fact that I could even get spoiled - blah blah the word "Remake" makes you think that shouldn't happen blah blah - but I did enjoy the demo and am looking forward to playing it. I think knowing about the twist that I don't approve of in advance will actually help me out LOL.
OK I'M RAMBLING NOW SORRY but what did you have in mind? ]
[Ramble away, I say! FF7 is one of my favorite things to go on about. It actually has to do with that twist. But I'll PM ya about that cuz I have no clever way to suggest it here.
I usually roll around in fluffy smut with these two, but am very fond of date nights or vacations for them. Costa del Sol, Golden Saucer. Camping out for a few nights.]
Two and a half years from the day the group left Midgar, Cloud straddles his trusty motorcycle, Fenrir. He slips his goggles on, revs up the engine, and peels away. He has a delivery to make somewhere outside of the city--to the Chocobo Ranch near Kalm, of all places.
While Cloud rides, something sends ripples throughout the cosmos to disrupt time itself. When he nears Kalm, the ripples rise to create a doorway of energy that sees Cloud hitting the brakes hard. He does a brief front wheelie before the back comes to a stop just in front of this strange energy.
Sighing, he steps off of Fenrir and draws closer. His hand slips in and he can see images of the group splitting up after leaving Midgar. Some of what they're talking about doesn't quite sound right to him. It certainly isn't anything that he remembers. He's about to pull back and dismiss all of this as some sort of funky hallucination when he hears the sound of battle. It's--
"Tifa!?" She's alone, too.
That..shouldn't be right, either. Pulling his hand out suddenly, Cloud turns and hops onto Fenrir, revving it back up. He wasn't sure about any of this, and if he was being honest with himself, this felt dangerous on a level he couldn't even begin to put into words. All he knew was that Tifa was in trouble.
His expression one of resolve, Cloud zips into the portal without sparing a moment more of hesitation and finds himself surrounded by a variety of colors. He ignores it, instead making his way to his goal: the surrounded Tifa. As he drives, he hears voices and sees images. He spares them glances, but never drives off the beaten path. For all he knew, he was imagining them.
Cloud zooms out of the portal in a flash of blinding light, but he doesn't flinch. No one would be dying on his watch ever again!
So he pulls out his sword and steps on the gas. When he gets close enough, he steps out onto Fenrir itself and leaps forward. As the bike slows to a stop on it's own, Cloud comes down on the nearest enemy. Energy erupts from his blade and spreads out to the other enemies, hitting each one from behind. The enemies stall, and then fall apart to the ground in defeat.
Cloud sheathes the blade and approaches Tifa. "Are you okay?"
Things have been a whirlwind since Cloud stepped back into her life. So much has changed, and none of it for the better. She wanted to save the Planet, and now look at the mess she's found herself in. Her friends dead. Sephiroth alive, and determined to take everything away from them again. And Cloud... he's different, somehow; his time as a SOLDIER changed him almost into someone she doesn't even recognize anymore.
Not to mention that somehow, she's become an enemy of Fate itself.
That day in the bar, when she told Cloud she felt trapped, she wasn't lying. But that feeling is nothing compared to the feeling that plagues her now. It's almost too much, and so when it's decided that she'll make her way to Kalm by herself, she's almost grateful.
That's not to say that she's not disappointed or hurt. She'd prefer to be by Cloud's side, and it stings that he didn't seem to want to travel with her. And yet she understands - after all, there's some small relief in being by herself too. This way, she doesn't have to constantly fight against the tears that want to bead at the corners of her eyes, or the way her fingers want to constantly clench and relax.
What would be beneficial right now, though, are teammates.
Two of the furred purple creatures were fine, but the one that slammed into her side, claws out, came as a surprise. And she'd barely taken down those three when she caught even more of them out of the corner of her eye. Too many. Not good. The cut across her left arm is bleeding, but there's no time for that. And it's not like she can run - with four legs, they'll almost certainly be faster than her. So she grits her teeth, raising her fists--
--and then reflexively raising them even higher to cover her eyes against the blinding light that erupts out of nowhere, along with the scream of an engine. And when the light dies, and she lowers her arms again, her eyes widen.
Cloud?
No. He's different, right? Even as she watches him leap from the bike and swing his sword into the first of the Fangs, she can tell there's something changed about him, although in the heat of the moment there's too much processing going on in her mind for her to identify exactly what.
He approaches her, and for a single, wild moment, she wonders if he's some kind of trick. Her fingers clench into fists again at her sides. But he saved her, didn't he? In any other case, it would've just been easier to let her die. Her fingers relax, her eyes serious and intent as she tries to search his, covered by goggles as they may be.
"I'm... I'm fine."
She has questions, of course she does, but those words are about all she can manage for the moment.
[ Rude had moved into town with the same quiet efficiency that filled every part of his life. A cheap apartment had been found, fairly close to campus; he had hooked up electricity, water, and found a decent gym; he had filled his fridge with drinks and food and settled down to the business of quietly living. All told, a thoroughly normal man, moving into a thoroughly normal apartment.
Or at least, that's how it was supposed to look. The Turks had him on what was rather generously called 'downtime'. More accurately, he was hiding out until the heat was off. There was plenty of cash in his account, so all the muscular man had to do was keep his head down and wait out the storm.
The biggest problem was filling time. There were only so many times you could go to the gym or do some reading in a day. More and more often, he had become a patron of the dive bar nearest his apartment, whiling away the hours quietly drinking and quietly reading at the bar.
It was a real toss-up. On one hand, there were college kids everywhere. Ugh. On the other hand...there were college girls everywhere. One in particular had caught his eye as soon as she came in: a petite, pretty blonde. From what he had eavesdropped on, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. More than that, she stood out simply because of her preference for scarves and jackets rather than skimpy dresses. ]
...
[ Why not? Rude listened until he overheard her drink order, then instructed the bartender to send over another with his compliments. He'd see where it went from there. ]
[ Before the incident, Sam hadn't really been the bar-hopping type. Parties were fine, of course, but she'd always thought they were better with friends than strangers. Safer, more comfortable, just generally a better experience.
But when your every night's sleep was plagued with nightmares, and your friend group just didn't meet up anymore on account of half of them being dead, missing, or in jail, and the other half being too traumatized to even manage a proper conversation... well, you did what you had to do to get by. So that's why she was at the dive bar on that night, drinking a much too strong Long Island iced tea, trying - and failing - to get through the required reading in her biology textbook.
She had been taking a break when the tall man came into the bar, on the phone with Ashley - their nightly check-in. Apart from occasional visits to Mike in prison, Ashley was really the only one she talked to anymore. So she certainly didn't notice him listening, or even admittedly pay a whole lot of attention to him until the bartender placed another iced tea in front of her, nodding in the man's direction. ]
Ash, I've gotta go. I'll call you later, alright?
[ She hung up the phone, and finally turned her attention to the man sitting a few seats away. He didn't look dangerous, but the hesitation and caution was probably too clear in her eyes even as she offered him a smile, raising the fresh glass towards him in a toast. ]
[ Rude, of course, knew none of this. All he had picked up was that she had a friend named Ashley, she was studying biology, and she had the telltale look of someone who had Been Through Some Shit. He knew the look. He wore it himself, when the stern mask slipped, and he thought about the things he had done. ]
No problem.
[ His motivation was a selfish one, but that didn't mean he couldn't be considerate about it. Rude gave a simple nod and stood from his stool, bringing his half-drained whiskey with him to approach her. It was already a good sign, that she'd hung up and talked to him. ]
...mind if I join you?
[ He was drunk enough and interested enough to be comfortably forward, but that didn't make Rude any less terrible at small talk. At least he hadn't asked Are you alone tonight? Of course she was. She was studying and making phone calls. ]
[ As he approached, Sam couldn't but be glad she'd chosen to hang up the phone. Whether it was his height - he had to be at least a whole foot taller than her - or something else entirely, there was something intimidating about him. The safest thing would have been to turn him down, but Sam could hear her therapist almost as soon as the possibility sprung to her mind.
"Not everyone is out to hurt you, Samantha." "It's okay to move on, Samantha." "You're still alive, Samantha." "You have to keep living, Samantha."
Okay, so she didn't want to go so far as turning him down, but she also needed to pay enough attention that she could clobber him with her barstool if it came down to it.
The question shocked her out of her thoughts a few seconds too late, and she offered him a distracted, yet apologetic smile. ]
Yeah. Sure, of course.
[ If she hadn't managed to scare him off completely with that, she'd smile at him as he sat, taking a sip of the drink he'd sent her way. ]
[ The last thing he wanted right now was to have the confusion of just saying 'Rude', so he made sure to add that on. After that, her concern was fair enough. The height, the muscles, the intense stare only slightly softened by drink...he'd smash himself over the head with a barstool, too.
Rude sank onto the stool next to Sam, turned towards her with his elbow propped on the bar. ]
What are you working on there?
[ He nodded down at the book in front of her. She was even easier on the eyes this close...and even more distracted. ]
[ Rude? For a moment, a quizzical expression crossed her features. What kind of a name was Rude? Surely it was a nickname or something, right? It would have been rude - ironically so - to ask however, and so instead Sam offered him another smile, trying for a little more warmth in her expression. ]
Thanks for the drink, Rude.
[ It felt better to thank him with the name he'd given her, whether it was real or not.
And just like that, she was stuck. It had been quite a long time since Sam had tried to make small talk with anyone, much less a complete stranger in a bar. Not to mention that up close like this, he was far more handsome than she'd realized before, which was a distraction in and of itself...
As such, her book was an entirely welcome topic. Sam put the drink down for a moment to lift the textbook, holding it out to Rude in case he wanted to see for himself. ]
Biology textbook. Unfortunately not all that interesting, but it's required. [ She shrugged. ] I'm a sophomore. Environmental science.
[ Or several. Two equally terrible small-talkers, trying to converse. He's almost thankful he'd interrupted her study, just to have a topic to talk about. He cants his head to study the title. ]
...don't miss having to do all that study. Impressive field to work in, though. [ He takes a sip from his drink to cover the pause. ] I'm a handyman.
[ The best kind of lie: a technically true one. He could and did fix what needed fixing, up to and including helicopters. The 'fixing' just happened to include some illegal activity. Working under the cover of being a general handyman worked just fine.
It also allowed him to get out of that stuffy suit. People would recognise him for sure if he strutted around in the Turks 'uniform'. Thus, his leather jacket still draped over his abandoned seat, he's just in his t-shirt while talking to Sam. All the better to show off the biceps with. ]
[ It should have been worrying how easily he seemed to be able to pin her as "needing" a drink. Instead, it was kind of a relief; if he could already tell, there was less need to put walls around it and pretend like it wasn't happening. Didn't mean she had to tell him the whole reason, of course. But she could at least be a little more herself.
It seemed to her like he was doing the same thing. After all, he certainly didn't look like your average handyman.
(Though he definitely had the muscles of one.) ]
I've wanted to do it since I was a kid, you know? Save the animals and all that shit.
[ She wouldn't tell him that she'd been having doubts since the incident, that she'd taken a whole year off school and thought about changing her major the entire time, that she was terrified of the potential of having to go to forests or jungles or other remote locations in order to do the exact thing she'd always dreamed of doing. ]
What about you? What made you want to, you know, be a handyman?
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sempiternals2019-11-07 04:27 pm
tis lynne... gimme yennefer.
as discussed! pls be gentle, I'm voicetesting~ (but concrit is always welcome too!!)
It's just as she said to Tissaia: she wants everything. Power, beauty, fertility. It's not even that she necessarily wants to be a mother, though. They took away something that was hers, and she wants it back.
Rinde is as good a place as any to start. Better, perhaps; the rumors say that there's a sleeping, captured djinn someplace nearby. And so once she's settled into the mayor's house, the man himself caught in her spell - the halfwit thought that he could imprison her, what a joke - she starts a long chain of whispers, beginning with that poor fool of an elf who believes himself in love with her. Soon, anyone in Rinde or its vicinity will know of a resident sorceress who can help townsfolk and passing travelers alike with any djinn-related issues.
Because there's no way she'll chase the creature down herself, no. She's no fool. Going after the djinn would be akin to suicide. Before she can absorb its power, it must be be freed of its prison, and to be freed of its prison, it has to grant three wishes to whatever master summons it from its vessel. To her knowledge, djinns are malevolent, abusers of loopholes, and they have their own way of twisting the words of the wisher into a result far less than ideal. Yennefer has no interest whatsoever in being a djinn's target practice.
And so the sorceress sits and waits, day in and day out, the townspeople of Rinde under her spell, the mayor's mansion an ever-extravagant party: rich foods, alcohol, orgies, and Yennefer reclining in the midst of it all, watching. Waiting.
She has, after all, all the time in the world. ]
you are already wonderful at her!
That's why talks of a witch hardly sways her from the course of visiting this woman. She comes in with a sense of purpose, and though all of that seems to drop the moment she stepts into the premises. The place smells of alcohol and sex, disorienting her immediately. She can't help but gape at the amount of fun these people are having all around her, but she tries to stay focused on the task. The witch sits before them, watching and indeed waiting. It's as though she was always meant to arrive here and stand before her. ]
You must be the witch I've heard so much about, [ She says in a playful tone. ] I also heard that this witch in searching for a special artifact. One that only a mercenary like myself could possibly find. Tell me more, witch.
thank you ;_;
It's not that money is an issue. It's just the bloody principal of the thing.
Still, she's hardly going to show her irritation to a woman she's only just met, and so Yennefer sits forward a little, an eyebrow raising in her visitor's direction. She sighs, and then with a single word -- ] Ragamuffin! [ -- the magic is dispersed, the orgy of townsfolk separating and staring. ]
The item I seek is likely an urn, but perhaps a bottle or jar, shut and sealed by a wizard. [ With light that trails shortly behind her finger, she draws a sigil in the air, and then another, representing what the seal may look like. The images glow for a moment, and then blink out. ] Something along those lines. It is an item of power. When it rests in your hands, you will know it for what it is.
[ She folds her hands under her chin, watching the other woman, as an idea sparks in the back of her mind, and a slow smile forms on her lips. ] I can offer anything you desire in return for its safe transport to me.
[ All she'll need to do is make a wish, or two, or three... ]
we can thread this part, then i can timeskip to when she returns with the urn?
That is quite a vague description of that which you seek. Don't suppose you would know of its last known whereabouts?
[ It's a longshot. If that were the case, she wouldn't be putting such a large prize for its recovery. Judging by her tone, Yennefer might surmise that she asks only in jests, but the next part is as serious as Kassandra can possibly be.
She steps closer to her makeshift throne and bows down near her crossed feet. ]
A powerful item. More powerful witch that seeks to retrieve it, even offers something as broad as anything as payment. I gathered this is no job for no ordinary mercenary, considering there aren't many men at your doorstep—
[ She gestures all around them suddenly, indicating the people who were most definitely spellbound. ]
Perhaps all these people are those who met the same fate by dissatisfying you?
sounds great to me :3
Ask yourself this, mercenary: do you truly believe I would grant such wondrous pleasure to those who cause me displeasure? [ Nay, in truth, the villagers were merely the result of Yennefer's boredom. Dissatisfaction would earn a person much, much worse.
Still, the bowing woman seems to be trying to make some sort of point, what with the way she talks, and so the sorceress straightens, watching her with a mild spark of curiosity. ] Tell me: what are your terms? If we are agreed, I will tell you what I know of the artifact's location.
[ Not that, admittedly, she knows a great deal. Really, the rumors told her that Rinde was the right place to start, and that is all.
Perhaps her nosy mercenary can discover more, once she has her on her side. ]
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Mmm... makes sense. [ Kassandra says with a shrug. ] But me, I would not consider losing my inhibitions such a wondrous pleasure. Not that I mind with the right people.
[ This time, she winks toward the woman, clearly indicating that she's talking about her. Yes, Yennefer is indeed a beauty that she wouldn't mind bedding with, but... business first, right? ]
I am quite the easy misthios, you see? You give me a job, I fulfill your wishes and desires, and you compensate me with gold. There is no need to complicate things with the broadness of "anything," don't you agree?
[ But who is she to turn such an offer down? ]
However, if you do have time between your... festivities, I would like to see exactly what it is you are willing to do for this urn of yours. Call it parting gift.
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Yes, troublesome indeed. But flirtatious? She can work with that. With a slow smile, one that carefully masks her irritation, she stands from the lavish bed that serves as her throne in the midst of all this, moving around to its side to procure a small bundle of dried herbs. ] Then we are in agreement, misthios. [ Not quite. She'll sway this woman to her will yet.
Sway, because this woman is too interesting to simply bend. ]
I did say anything, did I not? If you doubt me, I'm sure my magic will show you the depths of my desire... at least until a word of your choice ends the spell.
[ She raises her brows, waiting for an answer. If Kassandra agrees, gives her a word, Yennefer will light the herbs and blow the smoke toward her, the spell designed to cause an immediate arousal, but with inhibitions intact, until the word of choice is spoken. A hint of something more, something the mage will most certainly give to the person who aids her. Especially if that person spends the wishes of the djinn.
And if she refuses... well, Yennefer will just have to find another way. ]
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Tifa Lockhart - lockedhearts
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I probably need to delete the wishlist thing; I'm lame and never got around to finishing them. But I would absolutely love to do something with these two! I'm a liiiittle out of practice with Tifa, and have been looking for the opportunity to bring her back out, so as long as you don't mind that, I'm down for pretty much anything at all! ]
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I have a multitude of ideas, one of them having to do with whether or not you've played through the Remake. Have you? Also, did you dig it?]]
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I did accidentally get spoiled and will confess that I am kind of disappointed about the fact that I could even get spoiled - blah blah the word "Remake" makes you think that shouldn't happen blah blah - but I did enjoy the demo and am looking forward to playing it. I think knowing about the twist that I don't approve of in advance will actually help me out LOL.
OK I'M RAMBLING NOW SORRY but what did you have in mind? ]
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I usually roll around in fluffy smut with these two, but am very fond of date nights or vacations for them. Costa del Sol, Golden Saucer. Camping out for a few nights.]
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Spoiler warning for FF7 Remake
While Cloud rides, something sends ripples throughout the cosmos to disrupt time itself. When he nears Kalm, the ripples rise to create a doorway of energy that sees Cloud hitting the brakes hard. He does a brief front wheelie before the back comes to a stop just in front of this strange energy.
Sighing, he steps off of Fenrir and draws closer. His hand slips in and he can see images of the group splitting up after leaving Midgar. Some of what they're talking about doesn't quite sound right to him. It certainly isn't anything that he remembers. He's about to pull back and dismiss all of this as some sort of funky hallucination when he hears the sound of battle. It's--
"Tifa!?" She's alone, too.
That..shouldn't be right, either. Pulling his hand out suddenly, Cloud turns and hops onto Fenrir, revving it back up. He wasn't sure about any of this, and if he was being honest with himself, this felt dangerous on a level he couldn't even begin to put into words. All he knew was that Tifa was in trouble.
His expression one of resolve, Cloud zips into the portal without sparing a moment more of hesitation and finds himself surrounded by a variety of colors. He ignores it, instead making his way to his goal: the surrounded Tifa. As he drives, he hears voices and sees images. He spares them glances, but never drives off the beaten path. For all he knew, he was imagining them.
Cloud zooms out of the portal in a flash of blinding light, but he doesn't flinch. No one would be dying on his watch ever again!
So he pulls out his sword and steps on the gas. When he gets close enough, he steps out onto Fenrir itself and leaps forward. As the bike slows to a stop on it's own, Cloud comes down on the nearest enemy. Energy erupts from his blade and spreads out to the other enemies, hitting each one from behind. The enemies stall, and then fall apart to the ground in defeat.
Cloud sheathes the blade and approaches Tifa. "Are you okay?"
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Not to mention that somehow, she's become an enemy of Fate itself.
That day in the bar, when she told Cloud she felt trapped, she wasn't lying. But that feeling is nothing compared to the feeling that plagues her now. It's almost too much, and so when it's decided that she'll make her way to Kalm by herself, she's almost grateful.
That's not to say that she's not disappointed or hurt. She'd prefer to be by Cloud's side, and it stings that he didn't seem to want to travel with her. And yet she understands - after all, there's some small relief in being by herself too. This way, she doesn't have to constantly fight against the tears that want to bead at the corners of her eyes, or the way her fingers want to constantly clench and relax.
What would be beneficial right now, though, are teammates.
Two of the furred purple creatures were fine, but the one that slammed into her side, claws out, came as a surprise. And she'd barely taken down those three when she caught even more of them out of the corner of her eye. Too many. Not good. The cut across her left arm is bleeding, but there's no time for that. And it's not like she can run - with four legs, they'll almost certainly be faster than her. So she grits her teeth, raising her fists--
--and then reflexively raising them even higher to cover her eyes against the blinding light that erupts out of nowhere, along with the scream of an engine. And when the light dies, and she lowers her arms again, her eyes widen.
Cloud?
No. He's different, right? Even as she watches him leap from the bike and swing his sword into the first of the Fangs, she can tell there's something changed about him, although in the heat of the moment there's too much processing going on in her mind for her to identify exactly what.
He approaches her, and for a single, wild moment, she wonders if he's some kind of trick. Her fingers clench into fists again at her sides. But he saved her, didn't he? In any other case, it would've just been easier to let her die. Her fingers relax, her eyes serious and intent as she tries to search his, covered by goggles as they may be.
"I'm... I'm fine."
She has questions, of course she does, but those words are about all she can manage for the moment.
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had to use this icon again, really
XD OoOo~ Cloud: *shakes head* Tifa: *Careless Whisper plays*
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Dammit Tifa, the fish! XD
Yep, fish totally forgotten. LOL
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for sammy sam
Or at least, that's how it was supposed to look. The Turks had him on what was rather generously called 'downtime'. More accurately, he was hiding out until the heat was off. There was plenty of cash in his account, so all the muscular man had to do was keep his head down and wait out the storm.
The biggest problem was filling time. There were only so many times you could go to the gym or do some reading in a day. More and more often, he had become a patron of the dive bar nearest his apartment, whiling away the hours quietly drinking and quietly reading at the bar.
It was a real toss-up. On one hand, there were college kids everywhere. Ugh. On the other hand...there were college girls everywhere. One in particular had caught his eye as soon as she came in: a petite, pretty blonde. From what he had eavesdropped on, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. More than that, she stood out simply because of her preference for scarves and jackets rather than skimpy dresses. ]
...
[ Why not? Rude listened until he overheard her drink order, then instructed the bartender to send over another with his compliments. He'd see where it went from there. ]
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But when your every night's sleep was plagued with nightmares, and your friend group just didn't meet up anymore on account of half of them being dead, missing, or in jail, and the other half being too traumatized to even manage a proper conversation... well, you did what you had to do to get by. So that's why she was at the dive bar on that night, drinking a much too strong Long Island iced tea, trying - and failing - to get through the required reading in her biology textbook.
She had been taking a break when the tall man came into the bar, on the phone with Ashley - their nightly check-in. Apart from occasional visits to Mike in prison, Ashley was really the only one she talked to anymore. So she certainly didn't notice him listening, or even admittedly pay a whole lot of attention to him until the bartender placed another iced tea in front of her, nodding in the man's direction. ]
Ash, I've gotta go. I'll call you later, alright?
[ She hung up the phone, and finally turned her attention to the man sitting a few seats away. He didn't look dangerous, but the hesitation and caution was probably too clear in her eyes even as she offered him a smile, raising the fresh glass towards him in a toast. ]
Hey, uh. Thanks.
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No problem.
[ His motivation was a selfish one, but that didn't mean he couldn't be considerate about it. Rude gave a simple nod and stood from his stool, bringing his half-drained whiskey with him to approach her. It was already a good sign, that she'd hung up and talked to him. ]
...mind if I join you?
[ He was drunk enough and interested enough to be comfortably forward, but that didn't make Rude any less terrible at small talk. At least he hadn't asked Are you alone tonight? Of course she was. She was studying and making phone calls. ]
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"Not everyone is out to hurt you, Samantha."
"It's okay to move on, Samantha."
"You're still alive, Samantha."
"You have to keep living, Samantha."
Okay, so she didn't want to go so far as turning him down, but she also needed to pay enough attention that she could clobber him with her barstool if it came down to it.
The question shocked her out of her thoughts a few seconds too late, and she offered him a distracted, yet apologetic smile. ]
Yeah. Sure, of course.
[ If she hadn't managed to scare him off completely with that, she'd smile at him as he sat, taking a sip of the drink he'd sent her way. ]
I'm Sam.
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[ The last thing he wanted right now was to have the confusion of just saying 'Rude', so he made sure to add that on. After that, her concern was fair enough. The height, the muscles, the intense stare only slightly softened by drink...he'd smash himself over the head with a barstool, too.
Rude sank onto the stool next to Sam, turned towards her with his elbow propped on the bar. ]
What are you working on there?
[ He nodded down at the book in front of her. She was even easier on the eyes this close...and even more distracted. ]
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Thanks for the drink, Rude.
[ It felt better to thank him with the name he'd given her, whether it was real or not.
And just like that, she was stuck. It had been quite a long time since Sam had tried to make small talk with anyone, much less a complete stranger in a bar. Not to mention that up close like this, he was far more handsome than she'd realized before, which was a distraction in and of itself...
As such, her book was an entirely welcome topic. Sam put the drink down for a moment to lift the textbook, holding it out to Rude in case he wanted to see for himself. ]
Biology textbook. Unfortunately not all that interesting, but it's required. [ She shrugged. ] I'm a sophomore. Environmental science.
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[ Or several. Two equally terrible small-talkers, trying to converse. He's almost thankful he'd interrupted her study, just to have a topic to talk about. He cants his head to study the title. ]
...don't miss having to do all that study. Impressive field to work in, though. [ He takes a sip from his drink to cover the pause. ] I'm a handyman.
[ The best kind of lie: a technically true one. He could and did fix what needed fixing, up to and including helicopters. The 'fixing' just happened to include some illegal activity. Working under the cover of being a general handyman worked just fine.
It also allowed him to get out of that stuffy suit. People would recognise him for sure if he strutted around in the Turks 'uniform'. Thus, his leather jacket still draped over his abandoned seat, he's just in his t-shirt while talking to Sam. All the better to show off the biceps with. ]
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It seemed to her like he was doing the same thing. After all, he certainly didn't look like your average handyman.
(Though he definitely had the muscles of one.) ]
I've wanted to do it since I was a kid, you know? Save the animals and all that shit.
[ She wouldn't tell him that she'd been having doubts since the incident, that she'd taken a whole year off school and thought about changing her major the entire time, that she was terrified of the potential of having to go to forests or jungles or other remote locations in order to do the exact thing she'd always dreamed of doing. ]
What about you? What made you want to, you know, be a handyman?
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Noot Noot Noot