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 [RP] A Restless Night - By Haloy

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Vypra
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Vypra


Number of posts : 2810
Age : 47
Location : Warrington, UK
Registration date : 2008-03-10

[RP] A Restless Night - By Haloy Empty
PostSubject: [RP] A Restless Night - By Haloy   [RP] A Restless Night - By Haloy EmptyFri Oct 03, 2008 4:09 pm

(( copied from: http://forums.wow-europe.com/thread.html?topicId=5963041168&sid=1))

Haloy leans on her bedroom window, irritated and unable to sleep. She pushes the window pane aside and revels in the aromatic breeze that washes over her, cleansing her momentarily of any grudgings and irritations. It was still dark outside, but guessing by the faint grey light that lined the horizon, it was only a few hours before dawn would fall upon Silvermoon City, bathing it in majestic hues of gold and amber. She inhales the pleasant, fresh air and holds it hostage in her ribcage for a second or two, before exhaling the remnants back out. Gazing out into the street below, she watches the drunken tavern-goers stumble dizzily about with a wench in one hand, and an empty mug in the other. They sway to-and-fro in haughty laughter and crude remarks pierce the silence of the night. Haloy shakes her head disapprovingly and shuts the window with a silent thud.

Her bedroom is furnished with a lavishness only surpassed by the sitting room downstairs. The canopied bed sits on a small dais on one side of the room, covered with damask drapes and hawkstrider feathers that jut out randomly from every conceivable corner and a pair of matching brocaded chairs squat comfortably before a fireplace. To one corner, a desk is stacked with parchments, empty murloc ink bottles, and numerous used quills. She walks to the desk and dubiously eyes the pile of missives branded with The House’s seal, quickly tidying the mess with a sigh. On the opposite corner of the room, her polished and carved crossbow sits on a metal pedestal. Ignoring the state of her desk, Haloy walks to the pedestal and lovingly strokes the taut string of her crossbow, losing herself in deep thought.

A faint stir on the bed pulls her out of her stupor. She glances at the unmoving mass that slept on her bed and a heart-wrenching tenderness sweeps over her, forcing her to smile despite herself. She tip-toes to the bed and slides herself under the quilts, cursing unladylike under her breath after stubbing her toes on the bed’s edge. Nam’jin stirs once again and subconsciously plants a clumsy, yet reassuring kiss on Haloy’s forehead, his tusks missing her eye by a hair. Haloy holds down her laughter, this wasn’t the first time that she dodged his tusks unscathed while he slept.

Gently so as not to wake him, she runs her fingertips along the side of his arms, taking in the full impact of his broad shoulders and relaxed muscles. Her fingertips continue their allotted journey down his forearms, brushing the wiry, coarse hairs that cover his blueish skin and finally stopping on his large, limp hand. She rubs his bruised knuckles gingerly, remembering the fateful fist fight with that horrid orc who accosted her at Orgrimmar’s auction house.

Pushing aside the thought of rapacious orcs and the crowded alleyways of Orgrimmar, Haloy traces the sharp edges of Nam’jin’s collarbone, her finger resting on that familiar dent just below his neck. She then traces the visible vein that lines his throat, feeling the steady pace of his pulse under her touch. She experimentally presses on the vein so as to stop the blood flow, causing him to grunt in his sleep. Namj’in, a fierce warrior, seemed so vulnerable when he slept in her bed. His exposed aorta was up for grabs and his weapons, at Haloy’s vehement request, were sheathed in the storeroom downstairs. Witness to such vulnerability, Haloy shamelessly represses the sudden urge to cradle him in her arms like a newborn child and settles with placing her hand on his cheek, feeling the pleasant raspiness of his unshaven stubble on her palm. She snuggles closer to his side, letting the warmth of his body flow freely into her, pulling her closer to the edges of sleep.

Whether it was the pocket of heat that held them together, or far-off memories of trust and companionship, or Namj’jin’s incoherent mutterings into her hair, Haloy finally surrenders to the dark, bottomless abyss of sleep. Her dreams are his taking.

[ Post edited by Haloy ]
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