[ His teasing, leering imitation of dissolution is spoiled when she drives her fingers into a ticklish spot. He jerks, wriggles, and gives a little yelp of surprise. ]
[ She lets out a peel of laughter, head going back to keep poking at him. No letting up even slightly for his dignity's sake, fingers quick and clever against him until she's firmly won. Because this is easy, and it's good and it costs her nothing but a way to let the snap of blistering rage into something that he wraps up easily no matter how she might blister his palms for doing so, lets him press her into something that can be held down so she doesn't have to do it herself. ]
[ He knows what he's doing, of course. She wins - drives him back, him jerking and barking with every precise poke of her fingers - but he's satisfied in her victory, because a bit of her rage is cooled. When he retreats into his corner of the groundcar, panting and holding up his hands in unconditional surrender, his smile is genuinely pleased. ]
I yield! I yield. I surrender and confess my crimes. Clemency, I beg clemency.
[ She settles back into hers. Leaning against the car door, breathless with her laughter her hand cupping against her mouth to keep try and smother the last of it. ] As you should.
[ She hums, laughs, and then shuts her eye coming up with the worst punishments she could possibly come up with. Absolutely wicked, she's sure, worthy of his bloodied ancestors. Lakshmi the Wicked, that could be her name. Tormentor of Vorrutyers. ]
[ It's the sort of ridiculous shoe a lady must where she's a good foot shorter than half the men in the room and needs to get them to meet her in the eye. Or vaguely contemplate stabbing one of them in the neck.
Once it's free, she wriggles her toes where they're caught in her stockings. Her leg arched to stretch out briefly in a content noise of finally letting herself unwind. That party far enough behind them now that she didn't care if someone was following the car, even, and was finding all sorts of new gossip. ]
Oh yes. Definitely. Like you deserve. [ Her eyes slip shut with a content smile. ] Not that I am enjoying it, of course, justice isn't enjoyed. I'm far too impartial for that.
[ He immediately gets to it, pressing his thumbs into the arches of her feet. He has good strong hands, sensitive and attentive, hands that somehow express all the warmth that he doesn't ever allow his words or his deeds to show. His foot-rubs are magical, and his head and hand massages - absolutely phenomenal, even as he keeps complaining: ]
I'm a good honest man, having to endure this kangaroo court. You ought to have been born during the Time of Isolation and ruled as some wicked empress...
[ She makes the most guiltless, happy little grunt of a moan when his fingers sink into the aching her feet. Before she bites it off, doesn't need the drive getting any more ideas as her her teeth sink into her lip. It takes the pressure off them immediately, because he is good at it and he is good at what he does and he knows it. Practised on all those Vor ladies and lords he seduces, no doubt, and there for her to reap the benefit of. What a greedy, selfish woman she was. ]
Oh yes. I would have a lover a day and kill them by night - [ Her brow is furrowed just that little in the utter concentration of how good that feels. That, like that spike of her volatile rage, takes no less than all of herself. ] - like mad old Empress, oh, whatever her name was.
[ He frowns in thought, trying to remember. His fingers don't hesitate or falter or even slow, even as he's distracted by trying to remember his history lessons. ]
I think it was Alexandra. She was only a second cousin of my family, so we never did spend much time remembering her. In any case. Your lovers would thank you with your dying breath, my good lady.
Proof that Vorrutyer's aren't always responsible, I suppose.
[ There's another happy noise when he digs into a sore point. Feeling someone crack back into place. No doubt where a horse had stood on her foot recently. ]
Would they? [ she laughs, then sobers a little. ] Perhaps I should find one, then. I suppose it has been long enough. [ What was good form for a widow? One year? Or was it two? She couldn't quite remember. She knew she would be expected to look for one, in enough time. Just wasn't good form for a woman as young as she was to be left alone. Or so they would say. ]
[ He smiles down at her feet, face not betraying a hint of the unnameable emotion that rises up in him. What is that? Grief for her slaughtered idiot husband? Fear for her and her reputation? Who can tell. ]
[ Her leg arches up into his hold, stretching out. Gently arranging her skirts to keep her moderately decent. Like it mattered, not with Byerly when they'd been a mess of children together. When she'd more than once wriggled into bed half dressed with him. ]
Who says I want to be on the attack straight away. Maybe I would like to be seduced for once. Why do I have to do all the work?
[ Well, quite probably because of how she acted tonight. When people are quite comfortably terrified of her. ]
[ He smooths down her skirt to cover a little more flesh, helping her retain her modesty even as he works those muscles in a fashion that would not exactly be approved of by high society. ]
All Vor men are useless, don't you know. They'll conquer happily enough in war, but when it comes time to conquer in love? It's a lost cause. No, no...Finding one who'll put proper effort into it is an impossibility, I fear.
[ Gangadhar did, she thinks, viciously and meanly and not at him. Gangadhar would press her down so sweetly, he would brush the hair from her face, kiss her soundly and tell her that the only thing he loved to hold more than his weapons was her, because in her was all his victories. But like them, he must always tend her and after that -
But she didn't have him anymore, did she?
She cuts quicker instead because it hasn't stopped hurting for years and she's tired of it. Is that so awful? ]
You do.
[ Which is - slightly petulant. But as determined as she carries on before she can be cut off. ]
If you exist - [ if my husband existed ] - surely there is one of them that isn't a complete waste of time.
You are not. [ A firm correction she gives him often, but then, she shifts with it. Her eyes brighten then, laughing just a little. ]
Oh, there we go. You have to find me a cad. Completely awful. He'll be so devilish and desperate, he'll do anything - like seducing a rich widower that's famous for cutting of Lords' heads.
[ It's only a little bit sarcastic, and regardless of what he has to say that, when she feels the cab stop at last, she looks back down at her still shoed foot, and sighs. Oh she doesn't want to put the other one on, she never wants to look at the damn things. Why did she have a tiny wisp of a Betan for a mother that would leave her ten feet smaller than everyone else.
No, not after this whole evening, she can't face them again and she holds up her hand to wait a second to Byerly and fishes off the other shoe before she shuffles forward in the cab of the groundcar to the driver. The questions aren't particular secretive. Her ridiculous acts of unwanted charity she insisted on giving to other people as she fished off a ring from her finger to go along with it and the conversation was simple 'Do you have a wife? Does she like shoes? Oh no, I have worn them once, just this evening, and I did not like them. They should sell for a good few hundred. Take the ring too. I only bought it to match them anyway. Yes, yes I am that Lady Lakshmi Vornewalkar. Have a good night'.
Then she's bare to her stockings when she gets out. Pressing on her toes so she didn't ruin them completely. ]
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Then not throwing you out of the car at a high speed must surely be it. Spare the good men and women your corruptions.
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[ His teasing, leering imitation of dissolution is spoiled when she drives her fingers into a ticklish spot. He jerks, wriggles, and gives a little yelp of surprise. ]
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I yield! I yield. I surrender and confess my crimes. Clemency, I beg clemency.
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[ Catching his breath - ]
What penance must I pay, lady?
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You can take these shoes off me, first of all.
[ Definitely the best place to start. ]
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[ He sighs mournfully as he bends over to grasp her ankle and set it in her lap. Delicately, gently, he works the shoe off. ]
And - egads - shall you force me to rub your feet, too?
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Once it's free, she wriggles her toes where they're caught in her stockings. Her leg arched to stretch out briefly in a content noise of finally letting herself unwind. That party far enough behind them now that she didn't care if someone was following the car, even, and was finding all sorts of new gossip. ]
Oh yes. Definitely. Like you deserve. [ Her eyes slip shut with a content smile. ] Not that I am enjoying it, of course, justice isn't enjoyed. I'm far too impartial for that.
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[ He immediately gets to it, pressing his thumbs into the arches of her feet. He has good strong hands, sensitive and attentive, hands that somehow express all the warmth that he doesn't ever allow his words or his deeds to show. His foot-rubs are magical, and his head and hand massages - absolutely phenomenal, even as he keeps complaining: ]
I'm a good honest man, having to endure this kangaroo court. You ought to have been born during the Time of Isolation and ruled as some wicked empress...
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Oh yes. I would have a lover a day and kill them by night - [ Her brow is furrowed just that little in the utter concentration of how good that feels. That, like that spike of her volatile rage, takes no less than all of herself. ] - like mad old Empress, oh, whatever her name was.
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[ He frowns in thought, trying to remember. His fingers don't hesitate or falter or even slow, even as he's distracted by trying to remember his history lessons. ]
I think it was Alexandra. She was only a second cousin of my family, so we never did spend much time remembering her. In any case. Your lovers would thank you with your dying breath, my good lady.
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[ There's another happy noise when he digs into a sore point. Feeling someone crack back into place. No doubt where a horse had stood on her foot recently. ]
Would they? [ she laughs, then sobers a little. ] Perhaps I should find one, then. I suppose it has been long enough. [ What was good form for a widow? One year? Or was it two? She couldn't quite remember. She knew she would be expected to look for one, in enough time. Just wasn't good form for a woman as young as she was to be left alone. Or so they would say. ]
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[ He smiles down at her feet, face not betraying a hint of the unnameable emotion that rises up in him. What is that? Grief for her slaughtered idiot husband? Fear for her and her reputation? Who can tell. ]
Would you like a list of suggestions?
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Go on then.
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How am I supposed to make love to the man if you give me dossiers on them.
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Oh, don't you dare.
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[ He moves up to her calves, rubbing at the muscles there. ]
No need to worry about learning about him. You could stagger him right away. From moment one.
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Who says I want to be on the attack straight away. Maybe I would like to be seduced for once. Why do I have to do all the work?
[ Well, quite probably because of how she acted tonight. When people are quite comfortably terrified of her. ]
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[ He smooths down her skirt to cover a little more flesh, helping her retain her modesty even as he works those muscles in a fashion that would not exactly be approved of by high society. ]
All Vor men are useless, don't you know. They'll conquer happily enough in war, but when it comes time to conquer in love? It's a lost cause. No, no...Finding one who'll put proper effort into it is an impossibility, I fear.
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But she didn't have him anymore, did she?
She cuts quicker instead because it hasn't stopped hurting for years and she's tired of it. Is that so awful? ]
You do.
[ Which is - slightly petulant. But as determined as she carries on before she can be cut off. ]
If you exist - [ if my husband existed ] - surely there is one of them that isn't a complete waste of time.
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Well, I only do because I am worthless in all other ways. Hm, perhaps that's the key...find someone without merit, who knows he has to impress you.
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Oh, there we go. You have to find me a cad. Completely awful. He'll be so devilish and desperate, he'll do anything - like seducing a rich widower that's famous for cutting of Lords' heads.
[ It's only a little bit sarcastic, and regardless of what he has to say that, when she feels the cab stop at last, she looks back down at her still shoed foot, and sighs. Oh she doesn't want to put the other one on, she never wants to look at the damn things. Why did she have a tiny wisp of a Betan for a mother that would leave her ten feet smaller than everyone else.
No, not after this whole evening, she can't face them again and she holds up her hand to wait a second to Byerly and fishes off the other shoe before she shuffles forward in the cab of the groundcar to the driver. The questions aren't particular secretive. Her ridiculous acts of unwanted charity she insisted on giving to other people as she fished off a ring from her finger to go along with it and the conversation was simple 'Do you have a wife? Does she like shoes? Oh no, I have worn them once, just this evening, and I did not like them. They should sell for a good few hundred. Take the ring too. I only bought it to match them anyway. Yes, yes I am that Lady Lakshmi Vornewalkar. Have a good night'.
Then she's bare to her stockings when she gets out. Pressing on her toes so she didn't ruin them completely. ]
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