Dragons Folly (Brea x neobendium )

noodle

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I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
Zariah flinched as the blanket hit her chest and she slowly, sheepishly pushed it off of her lap onto the pile of straw that she was sat on. She just listened quietly as he spoke, picking at the dried blood that stained her hands, and tried her best to not cry.

Crying wouldn't do any good. It would just prove to him how broken she really was, and that was the last thing she needed.

As he turned away from her to speak to the guard, she dragged the plate of food to her and settled it into her lap. She really didn't want to eat, but wether that was from stubbornness or just feeling sick from anxiousness was unclear even to her. But she had to eat, and she knew it.

She may want to die, but...she wanted to go out swinging, not as an emaciated skeleton in the dungeon. That would just be accepting her defeat, wouldn't it?

So she started eating.

It started slow. But a few bites in, she realized just how hungry she really was, and by the time Richard turned around again, the plate was empty. She had moved back on the straw pile again and wedged herself into the corner, squeezed up against both the rough stone and the smooth bars with her knees pulled up to her chest.

She was hugging the blanket like a lifeline, and her cheek was pressed into the cold stone next to her.

Zariah was staring at him.

Her eyes were dull now, but behind those soft brown orbs were sparks of emotion that she wasn't letting out quite yet. Her lips were smoothed into a sloping almost-pout, and the dark rings that decorated the skin under her eyes just served to make the stare more intense.

Her tail was wrapped around her, the end of it resting across her feet and the tip twitching idly once in a while much like a cat's.

She didn't say anything, or move, just watched him warily as the guard left the two of them on their own. She didn't really know what to expect, not yet. The girl didn't even know what she was supposed to call him, or what she was supposed to do. And so she just sat, and stared, and waited.
 

Brea

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Blue eyes landed on the empty plate in Zariah's lap, the corners of his pale pink lips twitching slightly. Richard found slight humor in how quickly she had eaten her food, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because he was in total control of all aspects of her life? Whether or not she was going to eat, and when that time would come. He liked being in control of things- which he believed would make him a good king when his time came.

As she moved to huddle in the corner of her new home Richard became entranced with her movements yet again. She was a graceful creature, there was no denying that. His gaze shifted to meet hers, and as he recognized the fear in her eyes his expression turned cold. He had to be careful of what he allowed her to see of him, at least until she understood her place. Any weakness that he showed her could result in the kind of behavior he would not tolerate. Richard would have no problem punishing his new servant, but it would be nice if he didn't have to.

Clearing his throat, he decided he should go over the day's itinerary. "We're going to get you cleaned up," He started, still standing near the doorway. "From here on out you will be playing a part in representing Vrothage, I don't need you looking like a damn mess. My ladies will do what they can for you, but afterwards you are responsible for your upkeep. I assume you know how to make yourself look halfway decent, yes?"

After a brief pause, to allow Zariah to answer his question, Richard continued, "Knowing Marisol, she will try to make you feel welcomed, but do not let other's kindness cloud reality for you. You belong to me, do you understand? You are no longer a person." Richard moved more into the cell, tilting his head as he examined one of her wings. He continued until he was standing right before her, absentmindedly reaching out and running his fingers over her scales.

"What happens to your kind if holes are cut into your wings?" He asked after a moment, cool blue eyes shifting upward towards her face. "Would they ever heal?"
 

noodle

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I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
His words were cold and calculated and said far too easily. Had he practiced this speech before? And if he had, how had he not realized by now how cruel that sounded?

Or...maybe he did. She wouldn't put it past him, after all- a man raised among barbarians would become a barbarian. And these people seemed to think that anyone of a lower class was no longer a person.

She'd opened her mouth to shoot back a smartass response, but his next motions caused the sudden rush of courage to be swallowed by disgust and...well, fear. As he approached, she watched with distrustful eyes and bared teeth. When he touched her wing and spoke, running his fingers down the bone and along the scaled edge, she folded it tighter, whisking it away from him in a quick motion. Her doe eyes had turned fearful, now no longer hidden behind a mask of anger.

If that's what he was thinking of doing, she wanted her wings nowhere near him.

"It depends on the hole," she replied evenly, ever so slightly narrowing her eyes at the man. Somehow, she had managed to keep her voice steady. She was tense now, her lean muscles coiled and her tail no longer flicking lazily. Both wings had been pulled to her back, folded behind her and pressed up against her spine.

Her arms strangled the blanket against her chest and she wedged herself farther into the corner, shrinking back, down, and away from him. The dragoness wasn't exactly thrilled at how close he was, but somehow she knew that this would be something she would have to get used to.
 

Brea

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Horror, Furry, Yaoi


A puff of air hit Richard's face and blew his hair as Zariah hastily moved her wing away from him. Her words rolled over him, he wasn't listening. He was too focused on how she coiled into herself, taking on a sudden tense demeanor. She put her wings out of his reach and held her blanket against her chest.

For a moment, Richard was still. He was a calm and collected. Then, he swiftly reached out and gripped her by her chin. He pulled her forward forcefully, until her face was just inches away from his. "Don't you cower away," He warned her, his voice rough and stern. "I will not tolerate such behavior."

Richard threw her backward by her chin, and then took a step back. "Stand up," he ordered her. Just at that moment, however, the guard returned from his errand. He knocked on the door before unlocking it and pushing it open.

"Your steed is ready, your highness," The guard announced. Richard turned to look at the other man, approaching him now.

"I'm going to need some rope as well," He said, his voice low. The guard simply nodded and closed the door. He could be heard on the other side, moving things around. A few seconds later the door was pulled open again, and the guard held out some rope to the prince. Richard took it, muttering a quick, "Thank you," before turning back to Zariah.

"Hold your hands out to me," He instructed her. Richard intended on just tying her hands together to lead her through the castle. If she acted up at any point he would bind her wings together as well, but whether or not things escalated to that extent depended entirely on her.
 

noodle

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I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
At her shrinking away from him, Richard grabbed her face and yanked her forward.

His fingers were long and cold and sharp, and they dug into her chin with a retribution she hadn't expected to receive. He was confusing- one moment, he didn't want her to talk back, and the next he didn't want her to stay quiet? She flinched but kept her whine in her throat, not allowing the instinctive noise to escape even as his hot breath hit her face.

Then he threw her backward. Her head clanged agaisnt the bars and she yelped, gripping the back of her skull with one hand and glowering at him as he ordered her up. Slowly, she stood, still with one hand rubbing at the point of impact and the other gripping the folds of her tribal tunic and twisting it anxiously.

Zariah was standing as far away from him as possible, pressing herself against the bars as far as she could until his next order. For now, she would just have to play along...at least until she'd regained enough strength to try and fight her way out.

The sight of the rope, rough and twisted and thick, made her narrow her eyes a bit. Did he really think she was going to try to fight? She swallowed thickly and stepped forward after a moment's hesitation, pulling her fingers from the back of her head and briefly checking them for blood before presenting her hands to him.

She just watched numbly as he wound the ropes around her thin wrists, the material scratching at her already irritated skin and leaving light scratches where it brushed over. Was this really necessary? Her indignation was evident in the tightening of her jaw and and flattening of her lips.
 
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Brea

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Richard watched Zariah's expression as she held her hands out to him. She didn't like it, he could tell. But, what did she expect? For him to trust her to walk by his side? No, he was smarter than that. He knew she would fly away the first chance she got, so he didn't intend on giving her any chance. Inhaling deeply, Richard approached her. He took her hands in his own and then began winding the rope around her wrists.

Once he was satisfied her let go of her hands, and reached for the opposite end of the rope, intending to keep her like a dog on it's leash. "I advise you to behave," He said to her, looking to her face once more to read it. "I've instructed all our guards and archers to kill on sight if they see you without me. And, they'll be watching the sky too."

Turning from her, Richard led her out of the cell, thanking the guard as he passed. Wordlessly he continued up the store staircase, keeping her pace steady so that she could keep up. The last thing he needed was for her to trip and send them both stumbling down the stairs. Though he did not glance back at her at any point he paid attention to how closely she was following him the entire time up.

Once they were up the stairs Richard went straight outside, where his horse was waiting for them. Richard attached his end of the rope to his horse before climbing on. She was to walk beside them- she wouldn't earn riding privileges for some time. With a light kick on his horses side and a whistle they were off, Bentley keeping a slow pace so not to drag the dragon girl.

"Have you ever been waxed?" Richard asked curiously after a minute of walking. They were heading to Marisol's home, which was on the edge of his castle property. The higher ranked staff of his home had their homes on his property, though most of the servants and cooks and soldiers lived within the city. It was considered a honor to be given a home on his family's property. Marisol had practically raised him, all of his siblings, and his father. She was very important to Richard and his family.
 
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noodle

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I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
As he led her up the steps, Zariah walked far enough behind him that the ropes were almost taut, her head down and the firey red locks shrouding her face in shadow. She was breathing slowly as if trying to calm herself, her eyes nearly shut and trained on the steps ahead of her. The corridors were so much tighter than the cellblock, cold grey stone surrounding her at every side, and so narrow that she couldn't spread her arms out all the way, much less her full wingspan. Her heart was beating in her throat, her claustrophobia attacking her harder with every blind corner in the spiral staircase.

It didn't help that her hands were tied.

The information about the guards and archers was not new to her, and she hadn't allowed her face to twitch at all at his words. It just meant there wouldn't be a second chance at escape.

They entered the sunlight, and Zariah's steps quickened just a bit now that she was out of the confining stone walls and back outdoors. The sky meant safety....and it had never felt so far away. Though her head was down, she was staring up at the sky from the corner of her eyes as he tied the lead to his saddle and they started off.

It didn't much matter to her that she had to walk. In the grand scheme of things, it was insignificant....and she felt a bit better when she didn't have to be stuck in the saddle of a beast bigger than her.

She was hoping that the walk would be silent, but that wish would not be granted. His next question was just as weird and creepy as the first one. Zariah glanced at him with a suspicious expression, her brows folded into a frown and her lips turned down. "...No." There was a moment of hesitation, and finally she took in a rattling breath and asked. "Why?"

She only knew of the painful practice from reports from spies and scouting troops that had been in the human kingdom before the war was ended. Hot wax was dried onto the skin and then savagely ripped off, removing the hair (and sometimes the skin) from the person being subjected to that torture. Yet....some people willingly submitted to it in the name of beauty, thinking that a lack of body hair was somehow more attractive than a normal human.
 

Brea

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Horror, Furry, Yaoi


A single eyebrow raised as the dragon girl questioned why he had asked her about her waxing experience, shouldn't that bit be obvious? Why else would he possibly be asking her about such a thing? "Marisol will want to do something about your body hair," He answered her simply, not even taking notice of the wary tone in her voice.

He didn't have any further questions for her, and so the young prince fell rather silence. He focused on the rhythm of Bentley's hooves as they trotted along the path made mostly of pebbles. He quite liked the sound. Soon, his mind was wandering. Richard thought back to his most recent travels. Of the things he had seen. All of the families he had destroyed.

While Zariah's town resided in one of the more unique locations, and her people definitely had a interesting heritage, he couldn't quite say that her people were the strangest he had encountered. There was one very small kingdom he had taken over, one that he thought was better off under the rule of his family. It was tradition for the women in this kingdom to fight each other to death in order to receive a husband. The idea behind this was that strong women would breed strong children. While Richard could not exactly argue this theory, he also wasn't so sure he agreed. He'd seen plenty of bulky blacksmiths with scrawny sons.

Before long Marisol's cottage came into view, black smoke rising from the chimney. Richard wondered what she could possibly be cooking, breakfast had already passed. Perhaps she was already making dinner? He did not spend much time pondering this, the curiosity passed nearly as quickly as it had came. As they neared Marisol's home he noted that the bushes along her perimeter were looking messy. Someone was going to need to fix that immediately.

They hadn't even reached the front door when Marisol emerged. Wearing plain clothing, her short auburn hair pulled back into a bun. She was wiping her hands with a rag, and greeted them with a smile a slight curtsy. "Good morning your highness!" She called to them, smiling wide. Richard noticed the old lady's gaze shift from him, to Zariah, and back to him. Though, her expression never wavered from welcoming. She was an expert by now at keeping her opinions off of her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure this morning?" Marisol asked brightly as they reached her.

"I need you to try and make this look more presentable," Richard said as he slid off Bentley, motioning to Zariah with a jerk of his head.​
 

noodle

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I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
Richard's answer made her hold back a shudder, and Zariah wrinkled her nose against the sound that tried to escape. In her culture, shaved hair- especially men's facial hair- was a sign of a person who had done wrong, even to a minimal extent. High-level thieves and murderers alike were shaved to show their crime before they were cast out of the tribe forever. To have her body hair stripped away like that would just serve as yet another reminder that she was no longer where she was meant to be.

But she wasn't in control here, and that fact was accented by the ropes twisted around her aching wrists.

When they reached the old woman's house and the prince addressed her, Zariah couldn't help but feel the now-expected twinge of indignation at his words. He hadn't even referred to her as a creature. She was just....'this' to him.

No matter what he called her, though, the fact remained that she looked less than presentable. Her clothes were wrinkled and stiff from the battle, travel, and then the restless night on the straw pile- not to mention that they were still soaked with blood. Not her blood. She hadn't been very hurt during the raid, at least not physically. No, the dried red liquid was from her mother, from when the broken-hearted girl had cradled the lifeless body to her chest in the last moment of desperation before the world turned gray.

The dragoness examined the approaching woman with suspicious eyes, her brown orbs dull from exhaustion, hunger, and fear. She tensed her jaw against a snarl, trying her best not to make another enemy in this hell. But Marisol was a human of Richard's court, and thus she could never understand the pain that Zariah had been going through in the last few days.

It was difficult, but finally Zariah managed to smooth her expression into something akin to neutral anger. She gave the woman a bitter half-smile as a greeting, unsure if the prince would tolerate a word out of her.
 

Brea

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Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


Marisol tucked her rag away in a pocket of her apron, gaze completely on Zariah. Richard watched Marisol's face closely, trying to gauge a reaction from her. Surly, Zariah was one of the strangest things the older woman had ever seen. She gracefully walked over to them, and with a glace to Zariah he noticed that she was forcing a smile for Marisol. This almost made Richard smile himself. Either it meant she had an inherent respect for her elders that he wouldn't need to teach her, or she was smart enough to not be rude to this old lady that Richard thought so highly of. For a peasant, anyways.

After hesitating a moment, Marisol walked carefully around Zariah to get a good look of her at all angles. "Your brother told me of her this morning when I saw him," Marisol said, without glancing away from the prisoner. "But, I must be honest, I thought him to be fooling around." Now behind Zariah, she leaned in to study the scales of her tail.

"She is my greatest prize," Richard explained, face without expression. "No one else in all of the land will ever posses anything like her."

"A unique prize indeed, my prince," Marisol agreed with a smile, though Richard thought he had caught a glimpse of something else. Fear, maybe? That was foolish. Clearly this weak and broken girl before them was nothing to be afraid of, especially in her current state. "First thing to do is get her in a bath. Once all of this dirt and blood is washed away I can truly see what I am working with." Marisol went over to Bentley, took a hold of his ropes and began to guide him over to a post beside her home to tie him up. It wasn't really necessary, Bentley wouldn't go anywhere, but she did so anyways. "Please, young prince, welcome yourself into my home. I will join you shortly."

With a nod, Richard turned and started towards the still open door. He harshly pulled Zariah forward, making it clear she either walk behind him obediently or he would drag her along by her already sore wrists. The choice was hers, truthfully.​
 

noodle

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I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
The woman circled her, and Zariah watched with narrowed, distrustful eyes. Her wings folded tighter, pressing flat to her back, and her shoulders tensed. She kept an eye on Marisol to the best of her ability, trying her best to keep her emotions off her face. The older woman was just as bad as the prince, but there was something interesting about her.

Fear.

Zariah could see it on her face and felt the tang of it hanging in the air. Was it because of her, she wondered, or the prince's presence?

She didn't have any more time to contemplate this, however, as she was yanked forward the next minute. Her wrists screamed in pain as the rough ropes chafed her already raw wrists, and her face betrayed it with a wrinkle of her nose and a small scowl. Still, she forced her legs to move and followed him slowly, allowing the rope some slack so she wouldn't get dragged.

As much as she hated being complacent....it was the best thing for now. If she could earn some sort of trust, it would be easier to betray it and escape. That would take a while, and it wouldn't ever be possible to gain entire trust, but she could probably get enough that a door would open someday.

They stepped into the small house, Zariah a few paces behind the prince with her hands balled into fists. The smell in the house was clean, a mixture of food and various scented soaps. Her brown eyes traced the interior, tail flicking slightly as she examined everything.
 

Brea

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Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


Once inside the home, Richard continued over to the couch, where he turned to stare back at Zariah. Marisol had a very welcoming home, it was much nicer than most peasants. This was only because the royal family liked her so much, they made sure she was well taken care of. As their main caregiver, how could they expect her to do her best work if she didn't live a fairly comfortable life? She was one of a very select few who was treated so well by them.

Before Richard had anything to say to the dragon girl, Marisol entered the home. Wordlessly she brisked over to her wash room, where Richard could hear her start to run some water. His gaze traveled around the room. It was very tidy, and he could smell whatever food she had been cooking when they arrived. He watched as she walked past them again and into her kitchen. He could hear her rummaging around, before she finally returned to them.

"Forgive me, young prince," She said with a gentle smile. "I was cooking some stew before you arrived."

"I'll accept a bowl as your apology," Richard simply replied, a hint of a smile on his face. As Marisol approached Zariah he grew suddenly more serious. "Careful with her. Her kind has proven to be very aggressive."

Marisol nodded before reaching out to grab Zariah's hands. She lifted them up, noticing the markings on her wrists. "Are these necessary?" She asked without looking up at the prince. "I imaging I can work more quickly if they weren't in my way."

"Well. Do you have any suggestions on how to restrain her otherwise?" He asked, his tone slightly bitter. The look on her face told him that she didn't have any ideas. "Then, they stay on. I'm not taking any risks." Marisol only nodded before she excused herself to go check on the water.
 

noodle

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Mideval Fantasy (LOW fantasy), SciFi, Modern
Genre You DON'T Like
I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
The woman entered, and Zariah just stood stock-still, watching quietly as she bustled around the kitchen before approaching her. The prince uttered a warning, and Marisol nodded before she grabbed her hands. The dragon girl flinched at the sudden movement, her breath escaping in a near-silent gasp and her shoulders rising up next to her ears for a split second.

Her hands weren't soft, but then neither were Marisol's. Both were calloused and rough from years of work- Zariah's with the wear and tear that came from handling weapons, and the servant's with the chapped, cracking surface of a domestic worker. She spoke again, the prince denied her the release of the ropes, and the older woman walked away into the room.

Zariah was silent for a good twenty seconds before she turned to the prince, knowing full well that wet ropes would be uncomfortable on chapped skin, and not wanting to deal with trying to dress and undress with the bindings on. "I'm not going to fight." Her voice was quiet, and she looked him in the face with honest brown eyes- at least, honest enough for most people to trust. There were still embers burning behind the pupils, but she had been mostly cooperative thus far.

It was a long shot, but she could hope.
 

Brea

Edgeknight
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
Whenever I'm not working. Work schedule depends on the week and season. More active at night.
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I suppose I'm both Passive and Aggressive. It just depends on the roleplay.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Romance, Supernatural, Fandom, Modern Fantasy, Dystopian, Some Anime's, Mature
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Furry, Yaoi


Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


Cold blue eyes stared hard at Zariah. She looked to be telling the truth, but Richard knew how good some people could get at lying. Was she one of them? His face hardened as he studied her. He could take the restraints off, but what if she attacked Marisol? What if she escaped? He would be so angry. This was not a risk he was willing to take for her own comfort. After all, the ropes on her wrists weren't inconveniencing him in any way.

Still, he couldn't help but think twice as he glanced down at her chaffed wrists. Maybe there was a better way? Richard gritted his teeth as he weighed his options, finally letting out a sigh. The young man yanked her towards him harshly, taking hold of her face to hold it close to his. He made it a point to look directly in her eyes, he wanted her to know how serious he was. "If you cause any problems at all, I will make your life even worse than it already is. You'll pray for death, and it will never come." He gazed coldly into her eyes for a moment longer before looking down and reaching for her wrists.

Slowly, he unbound the rope. He almost felt bad when he saw how much damage had been done to her skin, and then he reminded himself that she wasn't a human. She was an animal- no more significant than any pig down at the slaughterhouse. He shouldn't concern himself with her feelings. Once she was almost free Richard harshly took hold of her hair, to hold her still. He thought of tying her wings together, but as he mentioned to her earlier he had archers ready to shoot anything they saw in the sky. She wouldn't get away by flight.

He wasn't so sure he should leave her completely unrestrained, however. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. He reached for her neck, snaking the rope around it, and then tying it in an intricate knot. He didn't tie it too tightly, because he didn't want to ruin the skin in the spot or restrict her breathing, but he made sure it was inescapable. He then held on to the other end of the rope like a leash, feeling rather proud of his work. He was sure she knew that if she was in any way difficult he would have no problem making it tighter. He'd even hurt her, if he had to.

When Marisol returned to the room he jerked his head towards Zariah. "Better?" He asked, to which she nodded her head yes.​
 

noodle

Accidental Pyromaniac
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
Most of the time MST
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depends on the plot, really. Tend to be Aggressive.
Favorite Genres
Mideval Fantasy (LOW fantasy), SciFi, Modern
Genre You DON'T Like
I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
They stared at each other for a long moment, a moment that seemed to stretch on for days. Then, finally, he yanked her forward. Zariah hissed in pain at the movement, her body jerking forward by the wrists. She ended up being entrapped by his hand yet again, cold fingers digging into her cheeks and their noses almost touching. Her knuckles were on his knee, trying to prevent the awkward position from leading into her falling on him. His voice was a low baritone, a growl, almost, warning her of something she already knew.

This very situation was only the start of her hell.

She didn't know she was holding her breath until he released her and grabbed the ropes, slowly beginning to untie the complicated knot that had been binding her hands. She tried her best to stay cooperative, but it was hard as she shifted a bit to stand straighter. He got the ropes nearly undone, and paused, seeming to contemplate something. She watched as his face transferred through multiple emotions. First, something akin to guilt....then it hardened into the expression he wore everywhere. Finally, he pursed his lips as an idea came to mind.

The prince loosened the ropes, but just as she slipped her hands free, he grabbed her by the hair. Again.

Zariah let out a surprised whine, first at the quick movement, then at the pain once more pulsing through her scalp. He pulled her head down toward him, and she had to fight the urge to wrestle the rope away from him as he coiled it around her neck as if she were an animal before he finally let go of her hair. The rough twine coiled around her neck like a noose, and she felt every movement as he tied an intricate knot right above her throat.

He let go, and she pulled back, her head down and her face flushed in humiliation. She was clutching at her raw, bloody wrists as if holding them would keep the pain away. The dragon girl didn't look up or say a word when Marisol returned, just rubbed the feeling back into the skin and tried her best to not look like the dog Richard thought she was. It was hard, considering that the rope was around her neck and her appearance was accurately that of a bloody, dirty prisoner.

She had hoped he was joking when he'd told his family about the leash, but....this seemed to prove her wrong. Really, though, what did she expect? He'd proven himself to be quite the barbarian.
 
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Brea

Edgeknight
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
Whenever I'm not working. Work schedule depends on the week and season. More active at night.
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I suppose I'm both Passive and Aggressive. It just depends on the roleplay.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Romance, Supernatural, Fandom, Modern Fantasy, Dystopian, Some Anime's, Mature
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Furry, Yaoi


Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


"The bath is ready," Marisol announced after a long a silent moment. Richard could tell that she didn't like seeing the girl tied up like a dog, but this was the best solution he could offer either of the girls. "Now, dear, if you'll just follow me..."

Richard cut Marisol off as she offered the dragon girl a hand. "It's name is Zariah," he informed her. He didn't want Marisol to make it a habit of calling his prisoner terms of endearment. It was far more kind than an animal like her deserved.

Giving another nod, Marisol reached out for Zariah once more. "Right this way Zariah. Let's wash away all that grime, shall we?" It wasn't really a question, because she didn't have a choice. But Marisol always took a gentle approach to everything she did, if she was able to. He watched as Marisol very lightly took Zariah's hand in her's to examine her wrists, wrapping his end of the rope twice around his hand to keep a good grip on it. Then, Marisol turned to her side and made a motion with her arms to direct Zariah to the washroom.

Richard began that way too, earning a look of disapproval he had not expected from the older lady. "Young prince, surly you are not going to watch her strip and bathe?"

"Any why not, she's not human," Richard replied, almost sound defensive. "I don't want to take any risks with her and you."

Marisol glanced to Zariah very briefly before looking back to gaze up into Richard's blue eyes. "I suspect invading her in such a way would do more damage than good, young prince. We will do as you wish, but I simply advise against it."

Usually, servants weren't allowed to provide such counseling. Had it been anyone else, Richard probably would have back-handed them for talking back. But, he knew Marisol, and that she only cared for the well-being of the royal family. His gaze drifted to the wall past her as he considered her advice. He hadn't expected to make so many hard calls this early in the morning.

Finally, Richard looked back to Marisol. "Fine," he agreed sternly. "I'll sit against the wall beside the open door. If there's any commotion I'm coming in. You have 10 minutes to wash her and clothe her." Richard turned his gaze to Zariah, giving her a look of warning. It would be such a shame if he had to kill her today.

"Thank you, young prince," Marisol said sweetly before turning to guide Zariah into the washroom.
 

noodle

Accidental Pyromaniac
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
Most of the time MST
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depends on the plot, really. Tend to be Aggressive.
Favorite Genres
Mideval Fantasy (LOW fantasy), SciFi, Modern
Genre You DON'T Like
I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
Marisol was nicer than she expected, and it was something that Zariah hated with a seething passion- if only for the reason that if the prince wouldn't have been there, she would have been able to relieve kinder treatments. But, as it was, that was impossible. Any act of kindness toward her ended in her being insulted and demeaned even further.

Now he was calling her 'it'?

That title, however, would soon be the least of her concerns. As Marisol beckoned her to follow her into the washroom, the prince began to follow, his hand still clutching the rope. With every step, Zariah balked further, her face flushing redder and redder and her grip on her own wrist tightening. Was he really going to watch?

Marisol stepped in before he could, and the dragon girl subconsciously deflated. A brief conversation ensued...not quite an argument, as she doubted that even this old lady would be allowed to do that, but a reprimand of sorts. In any case, Richard seemed to respect her opinion. They settled on a compromise that wasn't exactly thrilling to Zariah....but better than the alternative.

The two females stepped into the washroom, and Zariah began to slowly remove her clothes, trying to avoid Marisol's gaze as much as possible. She hated changing in front of anyone, and the elderly servant was no exception. It was difficult with the rope in the way, but she finally managed to strip herself of the old tunic and trousers from her hometown. They were blood-soaked and smelled of death and ash, but Zariah clutched at them for far too long. In fact, she seemed to have lost herself as she stared down at them, her fingers twisting them and her face scrunching up in the telltale sign of someone trying their best not to cry.

Marisol finally gently pried them from her hands, and she swallowed thickly before- still avoiding her eyes- she slipped into the bath.

She was silent as she scrubbed at her tanned skin, the water quickly blackening with the blood and ash but leaving behind a girl that didn't look as if she'd crawled from a battlefield. With the tunic gone, and the blood washed away, one could clearly see the tattoos that encircled her upper arms. They were wild, tribal things- one, a cuff of teeth, marking her as a huntress, and the other a dragon with four horns, showing her place in the royal family.

Zariah worked steadily and quietly on herself, scrubbing away the pain, but the water stung her wrists and made the rope on her throat itch, and she couldn't reach her wings. That was when Marisol stepped in.
 

Brea

Edgeknight
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
Whenever I'm not working. Work schedule depends on the week and season. More active at night.
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I suppose I'm both Passive and Aggressive. It just depends on the roleplay.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Romance, Supernatural, Fandom, Modern Fantasy, Dystopian, Some Anime's, Mature
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Furry, Yaoi


Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


Richard pressed his back to the wall, sliding down it until he was sitting on the floor. This wasn't ideal, he'd rather be able to make sure that Zariah wasn't going to try something stupid. But, he thought Marisol might be right on this one. He wanted to break the dragon girl, but even that might be too much. Even for him. There were limits to his cruelty, after all.

He impatiently listened to the conversation and sounds of movement coming from the other side of the wall.

Marisol watched as Zariah set to work, not realizing how creepy she may be coming off to the younger girl. She was simply fascinated by Zariah's physiology. She'd heard of the dragon people, obviously, and seen paintings and drawings. But never in all of her long life has she thought she'd see one in person. And, Zariah was certainly a beast to behold. Marisol could tell that much of her was muscle, and her scales were simply beautiful. She wondered what the tattoo's on her skin symbolized...

Seeing Zariah struggle with washing her wings Marisol reached for a new washrag, approaching her slowly. She wet the rag with Zariah's already dirty bath water, offering the girl a gentle smile. "Allow me," she said calmly before reaching back and carefully running it over her wings. They were harder than Marisol expected them to be, and their color made it more difficult for Marisol to tell whether or not the were clean, so she found herself going over the same spot over and over.

Once she was pretty sure the wings were mostly clean, Marisol walked over to the counter to grab a large pitcher, filling it with clean water. She then dumped the water over Zariah's wings slowly, brushing her hands over the scales to make sure there was nothing she missed. She then filled the pitcher with water again, saying, "I'm going to get your hair for you, too."

Without waiting for Zariah's approval Marisol slowly poured the water over her head, using her hand to block it from running into her face. She repeated this a few times until Zariah's fiery red hair was properly soaked, and then stood to go retrieve her liquid soap to wash her hair with. "Zariah, right?" She asked as an attempt to make simple conversation. "That's a unique name. What does it mean?"
 

noodle

Accidental Pyromaniac
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
Most of the time MST
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depends on the plot, really. Tend to be Aggressive.
Favorite Genres
Mideval Fantasy (LOW fantasy), SciFi, Modern
Genre You DON'T Like
I'm up for mostly anything. But I don't really like voodo and lots of magic. Don't get me wrong, I like fantasy and dragons and stuff....just not the magic part. That's weird to me. And no demons.
When Marisol grabbed the rag and came over, Zariah held perfectly still to allow the woman access to the appendages. She didn't move or speak, just slumped down with her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms. It was soothing, in a way, but not enough to offset the pit of dread constantly gnawing at her stomach. Besides, she hated feeling helpless. She'd always been able to bathe herself, but these people had pitifully small tubs compared to the enclosed hot springs her people used to bathe.

With every rinse of the rag, the water in the tub became blacker and blacker, until it got to the point where it was nearly impossible to see her own toes in the murky liquid. She wrinkled her nose a bit, staring down at it. Was that how dirty she'd been?

Her wings were done, and Zariah moved to pull away and rinse out her hair, but the woman insisted on doing that, as well. She was too tired to argue, so she just took in a breath and held still again, closing her eyes as Marisol poured hot water over her head. Her red hair flattened, losing its volume a bit and the wavy nature disappearing under the stress of water and soap. It was cleaner, though, and the bright color stood out in a stark contrast to her pitch-colored wings and tail.

Zariah was fully planning on just staying silent and letting all this carry out, but the woman was attempting to make conversation. She wasn't sure if that was a welcome thing or a nuisance, but she supposed that Richard wouldn't take kindly to her just ignoring his respected servant.

So, the girl answered after a moment, her voice in a quiet mumble from where her nose was buried in her forearms. "Goddess of Dawn."

The answer was short and almost curt, but her voice had quivered slightly even through the muffled sound. Her hands strangled her elbows, the knuckles turning white and her nails digging into her own skin. She half wondered if the woman was only asking to be nice- after all, she was human. She didn't actually care- right?
 

Brea

Edgeknight
Original poster
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
My Usual Online Time
Whenever I'm not working. Work schedule depends on the week and season. More active at night.
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
I suppose I'm both Passive and Aggressive. It just depends on the roleplay.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, Magical, Romance, Supernatural, Fandom, Modern Fantasy, Dystopian, Some Anime's, Mature
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Furry, Yaoi


Color Ref: C97507
Marisol: FF81BC


"That's lovely," Marisol mused with a smile, pouring some liquid soap right onto Zariah's head. She gently massaged it into her scalp humming to herself as she did so. Her mind wandered back to the days she would wash her own children like this. Now, they were all grown and had jobs and families of their own in the village. She rarely saw them anymore. Thus, the children of the royal family had become her substitutes.

Rinsing the soap from Zariah's hair, Marisol handed her the liquid soap, in case there was anything else the dragon girl would like to wash before she got out. Marisol then turned away to grab a towel from her pantry. Just as she pulled the doors open Richard called from the hallway, "Time is almost up."

Always so impatient, Marisol thought with an amused smile. She knew Richard very well, and he was not one to sit around. Though he was the quieter one of the three royal children no one could quite say he was the laziest. He was always up to something. She imagined that one day, when he inherited the kingdom, he would dread the days he sat in his throne to listen to the problems of his people. He was much more the type to fix the problem then to listen and order other people to fix it. "Yes, young prince, we are just finishing up," She responded loud enough for him to hear.

She grabbed a towel and brought it over to Zariah, unfolding it and holding it open to her. She also turned her face away, unsure of how Zariah would feel rising out of her blackened water to be exposed. Her gaze fell on her window, where she watched the trees blow in the wind. It really was a beautiful day.