Post by Jason Thornvaald on Nov 7, 2008 22:03:25 GMT -5
The overly-expensive silk sheets had barely cooled before Lyra Corvus was getting out of them.
Standing at an intimidating 6 feet 3 inches tall, she carried most of her impressive height very well in her long, toned and shapely legs. Every inch of her skin was a pale, ivory alabaster, marred only by the twin black stylized feather wing tattoos stretching down both inner-forearms from elbow junction to wrist, and the ones that covered her back from the curve of her shoulders to the top of her rear. Completely unabashed in her nudity, Lyra stood from the bed in one fluid motion, the corded muscles in her arms and abdomen rippling with the motion. Her coppery blonde hair spilled loose in a feathery tide down her back, the faintly curly tips swaying to her rear as the powerful woman stepped over to her jacket--which had been set onto a fancily gilded chair near-by when she'd first entered the room.
There was a very good reason why her enemies and allies alike had begun to call her The Valkyrie.
The extremely handsome, rather expensive male whore slowly sat up from the sheets, a faintly bemused smile on his face. It wasn't the first time Lyra--First Mate to one of the most feared pirate Captains flying the stars--had paid for his services. And every time the experience was much the same. She found him, took him to a room, used his services, then immediately paid him and sent him on his way. She very rarely spoke, and only when it was absolutely unavoidable. This visit had passed much as her other visits to Aphrodite's Arms did.
But this was the first time she'd ever moaned another man's name.
He shook his head slightly--long brown hair brushing against his shoulders and into his pale blue eyes--with a light sigh. The discretion didn't hurt his feelings, of course, far from it. He doubted Lyra even knew his name, let alone be moved to moan it. It had surprised him more than anything else. She always seemed so cold, so remote. Like an ice queen, covered in frost and untouchable by mere mortal man. Apparently he'd been wrong, because there was one man out there in the black who might be able to do what he had previously thought impossible.
Lyra fished out a credit chip, then turned back to him. Her ice-colored eyes were as cool and remote as always. The whore got to his feet with another light sigh, replacing his meager clothing before pulling out the scanner he kept tied to his wrist with a leather cord. He scanned her chip, and payment was received with a satisfying bleep of the machine.
He handed her chip back with a smile, which she accepted with her usual, polite-but-distant nod. He hesitated however, rather than turning for the door as had become their normal custom. She blinked at him a little after a moment, brow furrowing. "I hope this Dane fellow knows how lucky he can be," the whore murmured, tone soft with sincerity. "And if he doesn't, you should give him the hint. Life is too short to live it alone, Lyra."
The viking woman's eyes went wide a moment before she suddenly scowled, cheeks turning a faint, uncomfortable pink. The whore blanched, then bowed his head.
"Forgive me, Ms. Corvus. I've overstepped myself." He cleared his throat, then, falling back on the training that had been instilled in him for years. "Please enjoy the rest of your stay, Ms. Corvus. If you should need anything, do not hesitate to ask the front desk."
And then he turned on his heel and left, somehow knowing that Lyra Corvus would never seek his services again. That was a woman who didn't expose herself to very many, and he had made the mistake of laying her bare. An unforgivable crime.
Back in the room, Lyra did her best to ignore the pretty whore's words, not liking all the confusion and upset they caused in her head and, even worse, her heart. She couldn't afford to be heart-sick. It was hard enough making her way in this world being a woman. Play hell she would turn into some doe-eyed, simpering floozy and destroy all the hard work she had fought tooth and nail to achieve her entire life. Just as soon as she gave into the strange fascination she had for Hart's boarder crewman, that's when the mutterings would start. The crew would start to second-guess her authority. Ask her when they would get to have their turn with the ship's new whore. Most crewmen thought that was all a woman was really good for, in this world.
Lyra had spent her lifetime proving them wrong. She wasn't about to screw it up now.
The Norwegian turned on her heel and headed into the bathroom to shower, putting thoughts of Dane and all the confusing emotion that followed firmly behind her. Moments later she exited the steaming room dressed in a clean blue top and her tight black leather uniform pants, her long hair pulled back into its tight, no-nonsense braid. She replaced her boots, then turned to the gun harness draped across one of the chairs. The pirate sat down and pulled both of her short-barrel shotguns from their holsters.
Several minutes later she had her kit rolled out, cleaning one of the weapons with an almost religious dedication. She had to pause in her work when her comm. suddenly went off. She grabbed the ear-piece and fitted it over her ear, tapping it.
"Go ahead."
Lyra, this is Thorn. Aphrodite just gave me a juicy peach of intell. Gather up the boys and get back on board. We're gonna have to hustle if we're gonna catch this one ripe.
Lyra held her gun up, staring down the massive twin barrels to check for debris before lifting up again and snapping them back together with a satisfying clack.
"Copy that, Captain. Corvus out."
Standing at an intimidating 6 feet 3 inches tall, she carried most of her impressive height very well in her long, toned and shapely legs. Every inch of her skin was a pale, ivory alabaster, marred only by the twin black stylized feather wing tattoos stretching down both inner-forearms from elbow junction to wrist, and the ones that covered her back from the curve of her shoulders to the top of her rear. Completely unabashed in her nudity, Lyra stood from the bed in one fluid motion, the corded muscles in her arms and abdomen rippling with the motion. Her coppery blonde hair spilled loose in a feathery tide down her back, the faintly curly tips swaying to her rear as the powerful woman stepped over to her jacket--which had been set onto a fancily gilded chair near-by when she'd first entered the room.
There was a very good reason why her enemies and allies alike had begun to call her The Valkyrie.
The extremely handsome, rather expensive male whore slowly sat up from the sheets, a faintly bemused smile on his face. It wasn't the first time Lyra--First Mate to one of the most feared pirate Captains flying the stars--had paid for his services. And every time the experience was much the same. She found him, took him to a room, used his services, then immediately paid him and sent him on his way. She very rarely spoke, and only when it was absolutely unavoidable. This visit had passed much as her other visits to Aphrodite's Arms did.
But this was the first time she'd ever moaned another man's name.
He shook his head slightly--long brown hair brushing against his shoulders and into his pale blue eyes--with a light sigh. The discretion didn't hurt his feelings, of course, far from it. He doubted Lyra even knew his name, let alone be moved to moan it. It had surprised him more than anything else. She always seemed so cold, so remote. Like an ice queen, covered in frost and untouchable by mere mortal man. Apparently he'd been wrong, because there was one man out there in the black who might be able to do what he had previously thought impossible.
Lyra fished out a credit chip, then turned back to him. Her ice-colored eyes were as cool and remote as always. The whore got to his feet with another light sigh, replacing his meager clothing before pulling out the scanner he kept tied to his wrist with a leather cord. He scanned her chip, and payment was received with a satisfying bleep of the machine.
He handed her chip back with a smile, which she accepted with her usual, polite-but-distant nod. He hesitated however, rather than turning for the door as had become their normal custom. She blinked at him a little after a moment, brow furrowing. "I hope this Dane fellow knows how lucky he can be," the whore murmured, tone soft with sincerity. "And if he doesn't, you should give him the hint. Life is too short to live it alone, Lyra."
The viking woman's eyes went wide a moment before she suddenly scowled, cheeks turning a faint, uncomfortable pink. The whore blanched, then bowed his head.
"Forgive me, Ms. Corvus. I've overstepped myself." He cleared his throat, then, falling back on the training that had been instilled in him for years. "Please enjoy the rest of your stay, Ms. Corvus. If you should need anything, do not hesitate to ask the front desk."
And then he turned on his heel and left, somehow knowing that Lyra Corvus would never seek his services again. That was a woman who didn't expose herself to very many, and he had made the mistake of laying her bare. An unforgivable crime.
Back in the room, Lyra did her best to ignore the pretty whore's words, not liking all the confusion and upset they caused in her head and, even worse, her heart. She couldn't afford to be heart-sick. It was hard enough making her way in this world being a woman. Play hell she would turn into some doe-eyed, simpering floozy and destroy all the hard work she had fought tooth and nail to achieve her entire life. Just as soon as she gave into the strange fascination she had for Hart's boarder crewman, that's when the mutterings would start. The crew would start to second-guess her authority. Ask her when they would get to have their turn with the ship's new whore. Most crewmen thought that was all a woman was really good for, in this world.
Lyra had spent her lifetime proving them wrong. She wasn't about to screw it up now.
The Norwegian turned on her heel and headed into the bathroom to shower, putting thoughts of Dane and all the confusing emotion that followed firmly behind her. Moments later she exited the steaming room dressed in a clean blue top and her tight black leather uniform pants, her long hair pulled back into its tight, no-nonsense braid. She replaced her boots, then turned to the gun harness draped across one of the chairs. The pirate sat down and pulled both of her short-barrel shotguns from their holsters.
Several minutes later she had her kit rolled out, cleaning one of the weapons with an almost religious dedication. She had to pause in her work when her comm. suddenly went off. She grabbed the ear-piece and fitted it over her ear, tapping it.
"Go ahead."
Lyra, this is Thorn. Aphrodite just gave me a juicy peach of intell. Gather up the boys and get back on board. We're gonna have to hustle if we're gonna catch this one ripe.
Lyra held her gun up, staring down the massive twin barrels to check for debris before lifting up again and snapping them back together with a satisfying clack.
"Copy that, Captain. Corvus out."