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i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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spiral

silph
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twenty-nine
august 12th
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silph co. ceo
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POWER IS TAKEN, NEVER GIVEN—SO TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED
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FERNANDO SILPH
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POSTED ON Feb 16, 2019 5:19:09 GMT
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something pressures him into the notion that he cannot believe how far she'll go. but that is just a lie to help stomach the fact that the inevitable's about to happen. his eyes narrow at the realization, coincidentally lining up with her response.

"you're practically begging for it."

that's his final warning, a sick twisted attempt at consent that's hidden behind the assumption that isra cannot back down. he provides her a challenge and he wins in either event. things can only spiral downhill from here.

his head cranes down towards her, maintaining that same inch distance he had stopped her at before. that had been swallowed up in her attack to taunt him. he's unsure whether she'll continue the assault. nevertheless, he anticipates it.

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Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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Isra Nightingale
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POSTED ON Feb 16, 2019 7:01:50 GMT
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[attr="class","isratalk"]

She meets him. Leaning in closer. Closer but not completely, she taunts him with the faintness of the touch and the tension of its incompleteness.

Amidst the chemical rush the closeness gives her she is aware again of her surroundings, the emptiness of the place he comes back to every night and the contrast of the tension they have allowed between them. That she maintains.

Enjoys.

She draws it out, relishing it. The contrast is oppressive to her, it makes it all the better. Eyes watch him, watching for a sign he might back down, might decide better of it.

Isra does not care for the trivialities that he will and she knows it. She has long accepted her own promiscuity and readily enjoys it though he has no way of knowing and perhaps that is his downfall. At the core of it that is what will keep her from backing down, that it does not matter who he is only that she is enjoying the moment. It is isolated from everything else in her mind, the rest is nothing more than convolution played at by others for their own amusement.

When finally she speaks he can feel her whisper as well as he can hear it, just barely against his skin.

"As if you're any better"

pause.

"Make a move, a real move, or walk away," last chance.

They've both given it. She doesn't think he'll walk away. Not now.



[newclass=.isratalk b]color: #9ed480;[/newclass]
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spiral

silph
SIR
twenty-nine
august 12th
saffron
oppressive
silph co. ceo
council member
POWER IS TAKEN, NEVER GIVEN—SO TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED
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9,105 posts
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FERNANDO SILPH
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POSTED ON Feb 16, 2019 21:11:50 GMT
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"fuck."

all it takes is one moment of 'fuck it' to pass through his mind. his hand clings to her, warning of what's to come. he's too far in to back down now and they both know it. it's all part of the plan. the moment she made the choice to touch him, she's set herself to fall into each subsequent twist and turn. fernando knows this and feels no remorse.

a predator should not feel guilty for hunting - it is a need and one that should be embraced.

"you're so fucking stubborn."

there's a space behind that comment, a pause to grant her the choice to retort but it is an illusion. she's prodded him enough and he responds in earnest. he comes down on her with the hunger that stems with a schedule that allows for no release. all the burdens become the crux of his kiss. rough, careless, hungry. they're greedy and look for her upper lip, mashing, seeking.

the consequences become nothingness. his focus is honed onto one thing: a need to release.

isra talks a big game and it's about time he put her to the test. she is to be his right hand and he'll treat her as such. what is a mutual understanding between employer and employee, one he holds with , becomes distorted. isra is too distant for delicacy. what she gets is the burden of having to bear the brunt of his frustrations and it shows in how he handles her.

passion is a medium for him to escape and he shows it. 

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played by

Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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1,346 posts
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Isra Nightingale
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POSTED ON Feb 17, 2019 7:40:40 GMT
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[attr="class","isratalk"]

He smothers her laughter and worse yet she allows it. Accepts it. Wants it.

Whatever monstrous wave he thinks he's crashing against the shore does nothing but shift the sands into him, moving with him, rolling into the depths of the waters. Her eagerness to dive is apparent, unmistakable. It will almost bubble over when met with his own and there is no denying her enjoyment of it. Whatever monsters lurk in the deep do not worry her, whatever he gives her she returns.

Tit for tat. Move for move. A game is afoot and she is a surprisingly apt and practiced player pushing against his frustration, seeking to loosen the puppet at the joints no matter how the strings pulls him to pull her. Push here pull there insist and let the passion out, that's the point of the performance anyway, isn't it? An accepting and active partner is key and she is eager to play the part. She knows her lines and follows the cues, he'll find her promise is exactly what she has always said.

She can handle anything he gives her.

His frustration is met with her enjoyment. Two puppets push and pull at each other on the stage while the wave crashes against the shore and she seeks the applause that may never come. It doesn't matter, the performance is enough.



[newclass=.isratalk b]color: #9ed480;[/newclass]
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played by

spiral

silph
SIR
twenty-nine
august 12th
saffron
oppressive
silph co. ceo
council member
POWER IS TAKEN, NEVER GIVEN—SO TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED
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FERNANDO SILPH
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POSTED ON Feb 17, 2019 9:05:44 GMT
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if she thinks she can handle him then that only encourages him further. his need to release is a flood that laps at her surfaces. she may stand strong, might be able to handle it all, but a flood is still a flood. kisses turn into teasing licks and when she responds to them he doubles down with nibbling on whatever area garners the best reaction.

standing takes too much effort. the first time he parts from her, heaving, desperate to surface from the dive, he glares at her with a bitter smirk. a forceful shove is all it takes to cause her to fall. whether it's her playing along or the abrupt surprise of the action, the result is the same. so much for sleeping.

isra matches him and on paper they're even - physically compatible, enough so to skewer the most accurate love calculators. however, biology is an important factor. fernando knows the ocean and the tides it brings. a wave only lasts for so long before it washes out. that's why he relies on the other tools, the whirlpools and spouts that, with time, will tire but never become unusable.

when he rises, fernando appreciate the scenery before him. a crude wipe of his mouth brushes the brine away, a follow up to run his fingers through his hair in utter frustrations. the sound of her answers are pleasant but no where near breaking. that's not what he wants; he demands absolute submission, a mounting victory that affirms the pride of a fragile mold of masculinity.

if she won't give it to him then he'll work for it.

every partner is different but they're all human. patterns, methodologies, techniques, they're all tailored and fernando uses them like a ring full of keys, eager to find the one to unlock her weakness.

"dirty."

his tone is condescending, as if she should be ashamed. it's not that but he plays at it to tease her for her replies.

this is but a prologue and they've yet to reach the first act.

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Endless

The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
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Isra Nightingale
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POSTED ON Feb 19, 2019 9:47:00 GMT
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[attr="class","isratalk"]

His eagerness does nothing to scare her off, it encourages, emboldens. He'll know what she likes by the end of the night, she does not shy from it, eager to be pleased and to please in return. A hand begins to drift over skin, lightly, barely there, looking for the places he likes best. She wants to find the waves cold enough to put a chill up his spine. She is slight and tantalizing, exploiting his want.

When their eyes meet he'll find something he's never seen before. The porcelain face belies the fire, the intensity so rarely found in the day to day is nearly all consuming in the gold of her eyes. It has eaten away at the blank apathy he's used to seeing, tonight they are alive as she thrives beneath his touch. He has found one of two things that makes her feel alive in a world she does not belong to.

He does not surprise her, she does not resist him.

Already they prove a fitting match be that for better or worse. Worse she decides, though the thought is fleeting. Quickly drowned by efforts she is eager to appreciate and accept. She does not need to think he will earn his keep when he is proving that he will. Worse. When the tide rises the shore is powerless to stop it, it's only choice is to flow with the waters, let it take the grains of its sands and do what it will. Isra is no different. Despite the stubbornness they both so readily share she knows he will get to her. is getting to her. and she enjoys it.

Eyes meet again. The intensity has not diminished, it won't.

She grins. Watching him move, taking in what she sees of him. So unlike what she expects.

"Not dirty enough, you're still talking."

She realizes as she speaks it's like a storm in her chest and it makes her grin wider. It's the only urging she needs to reach for him, seeking to pull the waves back to shore. The eagerness of the kiss hides the agenda, it's her turn to push and the motion to swap places is done with a deftness he might not have expected before tonight. The visage he so often sees is something delicate but feisty, her porcelain skin making her seem like a dressed up doll that could break at any moment. The truth he has found hidden beneath the lace and layers tells a very different tale. She hides a well kept body, athletic and baring its own set of scars, though they lack the dramatics of his own they hide a story he's yet to find. It is a fact that is neither here nor there.

Sand becomes waves and waves become sand. She is assertive in returning what has been given, she will not be put in a place of owing. Eyes are on him, looking for the tell tale signs of the shore eroding beneath the waves. She's no more of a stranger to the ways of the shore than he is, eager to shape it into something that can come crashing down when the tide roles in. It shows in every shift of the tide, and every insistence.



[newclass=.isratalk b]color: #9ed480;[/newclass]
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played by

spiral

silph
SIR
twenty-nine
august 12th
saffron
oppressive
silph co. ceo
council member
POWER IS TAKEN, NEVER GIVEN—SO TAKE WHAT YOU ARE OWED
awards
9,105 posts
part of
TAG WITH @silph
FERNANDO SILPH
Messenger
POSTED ON Feb 21, 2019 8:42:37 GMT
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"fuck."

the expletive comes out as an exasperation. the body can only last so long and his will falters as the feeling churns. like liquor, he can feel it bubbling as it comes to the surface. lips lock on lips and keep them sealed. the heat of her breath paints him with a sweat that comes from the vigorous squeak that contrasts with the earlier sounds of mimikyu mere moments prior.

he feels the sudden weight shift and dominance is stolen from him. her own defacements are ignored. he cares only for the feeling of the flesh, the might of the fire behind it. the image means little when she's washing over him so thoroughly. she gives and he unmasks himself, giving in, going with the flow of the tides.

when it comes time for the tide to fall it crashes with all the fervor pent up between all of their exchanges. the bullheaded need to be correct, to conquer, falls when his arms wrap her, clinging for dear life. he can feel her quiver and he follows soon after, embracing in a disgusting washout. it settles out once and for all and fernando's left breathless. panting comes hard and the relief of a break leaves him in a tizzy, warm, flushed, and left with a resounding heart beat that betrays any try he has for boasting.

the journey is done and the ocean is to rock them asleep. fernando persist, far from finished, eager to reignite his passion with a flurry of appreciative kisses. will carries on where his body cannot. offering herself has set him aflame and he has no intention of burning out. sleep is for the weak and he feels nothing short of amorous.

eventually, he succumbs to the darkness. he fades off into black.

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