Stud for Hire!
Scene Name: Stud for Hire!
Date & Time: 09.01.2011 6:30p.m. -6:00 GMT
Characters: Dutch, Mist

Infinity

Smooth, sensual music seeps through the room, attempting to hypnotize the very cores of those who find their way to Infinity. In the middle of the room, under a cone of red light, is a bar in the shape of a lemniscate, a sideways 8, the symbol of infinity. This design divides the bar into two sections tended each by separate bartenders.
The establishment, too, is divided in two: The western side is a dance floor, where patrons can dance to the latest beat of music set to strum like a cord of life through the establishment. Lasers shine through the air, sweeping in spellbinding patterns matching the music's rhythm. One the eastern side, various tables and booths are established where one can settle to indulge semi-private moments. Moving between the tables are blood dolls - slaves of various gender, race, and 'flavor'. All of them wear nothing but a black loincloth, draped in various fashions and weaves that seem more in favor of accentuating their assets than offering any modesty. Despite their obviously subservient natures, they wear no collars. These would only certainly get in the way. Instead, a single tattoo is stamped into the flesh of their left shoulders, the side-ways figure eight that marks them as property of Infinity.
The establishment is always packed, and probing too curiously into the dark, shadowed corners of the bar will always reveal a new unsettling site of lust and feeding.


The night is long on Nox and that is perhaps a good thing for one Valkyrie now mad vampire. Said warrior woman sits at a table with her great ax dropped hap hazardly across the top of it. She is rocked back in her wooden chair with her booted feet kicked up and crossed on the table top. There is a flaggon in her right hand which she drinks from deeply and her left has dropped down to rest on the shoulder of the great wolf that lays lazily beside her. it seems a busy noght in the bar and most of the tables are full of assorted gathered folks chattering about the goings on in Nox.

The eternal night brings about a hunger in the vampire Dutch, as his training has wore him down considerably. He strides through the oaken doors of the club, and gives a peer about the room. The mixture of scent here is quite relaxing, but there is a one that stands out above all else. His shirt is unbuttoned and kept open, showing of his ripped features, and the bulge of taunt muscles frame his form. There are scuffs and scrapes across his perfect vampiric skin, signs of the intense training he submits himself too. As he makes his way into the club deeper, some of the blood dolls quickly move from his way, and others are simpy dodged with a quick flicker of his form, until he is settled upon the bar with a lean. He orders up a beverage from the bartender, blood on the rocks, as it is his favourite. His gaze moves over to the woman propped at a table, not recognizing her, but knowing already who she is and what line she is aquainted with. He makes it his business to know these things, but the ethereal speaking to him usually takes care of introductions for him, even if it is just one-sided. Once his drink is delivered, he makes his way over to the table, drink in tow, and presenting himself for the vampiress to see.

The womans helm rests on the table as well as her ax and the low like plays on rose-gold hair. She takes a deep drink from her flaggon , emtying it then thumps it heartily on the table and motions for on of the servants. She smiles merrily , flashing new fangs and a laugh errupts from her as she slaps the boy on the flank and he darts off to get her another of what ever it was she was drinking. long strong legs are exposed from boot tops to the end of a rather small ruffle of a leather skir. Her armor gleams in the light and summer blue eyes lift as she feels another approach. One red-gold brow lifts as she regards the man before her and her fingers curl into the thick grizzled grey black fur of the big wolf that lays beside her. Freki lifts his head and gives a deep base warning snarl. Looking down at the wolf she pats him "Easy brother, this is a public tavern and we dont want to be stiring up a scene now do we?"

This vampire stands peering down at the woman, the wolf is of absolutely no concern. His face is emotionless and his eyes narrow. He has all the signs of a true warrior and yet he isn't, though because of his status and virtues he could be considered one, and his name might be offered up to this…valkyrie. The cant to the dog obviously not to himself, so he makes himself more comfortable, and slips into a chair at the same table. He doesn't ask for permission as none is needed for him. He truly looks like he has just been drug up from an intense battle, but acts as though there is nothing wrong at all. Just sipping on his blood, and those emerald green eyes gaze back into the summer blue. Finally he cants out, "Mist of the Blodtwulf, former valkyrie to Odin. It's a pleasure." the cold stare breaks and a smile creeps upon his face, warm and greeting, not something anyone would normally fake. There is an aura of good about him, and honesty. He leans forward onto the table and dottles over his glass which is seated infront of him, running his fingers about it and the rim. "First time I've ever seen you off your clans grounds." he states before taking another drink. "So how's it been then?" he inquires afterwards, seating the glass back down and speaking of her visit to the bar.

The great wolfs eyes glow a pulse of red as he watches the other vampire aproach the table where his sword sister sits. Another of those base growls spills from the wolf who if the man is aware of such things, is as much kindred now as the valkyrie herself. The warrior womans' fingers tighten in the grizzled fur and she makes a low snarl of her own to the wolf and he goes silent. When the vampire sits at her table that arched brow stays lifted and she regards him with those vibrant eyes. Her ax is never far from hand and for a moment she gives it a look then returns her eyes to the man across from her. The woman tilts her head and breathes in the scent of the vampire then grins "then you have not spoken of late to the one called Regent for I have met with him and it was he who bid me take his tribute of 100 soldiers to my cheiftan. You are of the same line are you not? You smell of him. As to , how it has been, it has been …life changing" she laughs heartily and slaps her thigh as if she were telling the grandest of jokes. The raven feather "cloak" she wears shifts a little behind her and settles more around the back of the chair.

Taking another sip from his drink, Dutch listens to the woman's words carefully. His eyes run down to the axe that she keeps close and a smirk forms on his lips. She doesn't seem to know about me at all, he thinks. He gives an affirming nod as to answer the query as to his lineage. He doesn't seem to catch the joke, or maybe he just didn't find it that funny, because there is not an utterance of a laugh, just that smirk. "We do not speak." he simply states and then continues, "Enjoy them, they are the only thing he will recieve." he already knows of the deal his lord struck in direct defiance to his pact with the Goddess of Nature herself, and has already made up his mind about the matter. Any other offering of soldiers will be met with the man's fury, as it is not the will of his line nor his own that war be coaxed, feed, or cuddled as a babe. Those that cannot grasp the wisdom that comes from the years of immortality are weak in his eyes. Fear guides their actions. This vampire has no fear. It has been rended painfully from his being, but he searches for a chance to feel it again. The longing side of his dead emotions still clinging to the chance that it may just make him feel human, even for a brief moment. For a moment he wonders what her touch would feel like…if it's as cold and dead as his own. He finishes off the last bit of blood with a gulp and wipes a stream creeping from the corner of his mouth away with his arm, still that smirk, and those peering green eyes. "..life changing.." he repeats of her statement. "How so?" he questions, still not knowing much about her.

As the man across from her finishes his drink the boy she sent off before returns with a fresh mug smelling heavily of honey wine and a blood. A froth of pinkish foam rests on top of the mug and she takes it from the boy and offers him a smile "go on young one, see if this fellow would take another of what ever he's drinking" the woman takes a deep drink from the fresh mug then flicks her tongue across her lips. "the one called Regent will not honor his word then? This would not be a good thing, though what is to be expected from a man that says he is a polotican." the woman frowns and shakes her head. Her blue eyes lift and lock to yours "I feel I should know your name but it is not known to me.." this seems to trouble her and that "cloak shifts behind her again and the wolf becomes restless. There seems to be great emotion in the woman, her thoughts and feelings move with ease across her face, thought there is no fear for she was the hand of death on the battle field when she rode for Odin and now she has withstood her own change, the painfull rebirth and Howling to be made one with the Blodwulfen. When she watches him finish his first drink and dab away that trickle of blood her tongue tip darts out as if to lick it away then slips back in between her lips.

A wonderous thought indeed to partake of this beauty, but the though tolls on Dutch's insides. It's something that may send him into a shroud of flowing light and darkness indeed. But such a thought is utterly tempting to him. He watches her movements and action intently. Much can be told be examining simply gestures and the subtle movements many never feel to mask. "It was not his place, nor as regeant or ancestor to make such a proposal. I care not for your own's concerns or rage." He states proudly as he takes up the offer from the porter, with a point down to his glass. He feels perhaps the uneasiness of her should be settled by offering up his name, and does so, "I am Dutch." he forgoes any further introduction than the simplicity of his name. He has some renown, and he feels that it is quite enough unless there is an inquiry. He knows that he himself will have to go to the Blodtwulf grounds and fight in the Dome, and his seed had been offered to Drakth by his ancestor. A stupid thing to do against his will. Such a cowardly thing to press one's unwavering loyality and break the bounds that held it in place. So he doesn't return to the residence of his lineage, and does not heed the words of his sire, for he is weak. Driven by fear. Something not worth his time since his change. Since the dream of the being he should become. Hope. Light in the darkness. The beacon that has been void from the dismal land. He rather enjoys watching that darting tongue though, and it slips his thoughts back over to the playful tease in his mind at tasting, touching, grasping, needing. His drink is finally delivered back to him, and he seats it infront of himself, not wanting it to finish as quickly as the first. "Yes, a politican…" he says trailing off, his memories of that day are still vivid as they ever were, the challenge he cast to her lord in anger, denied.

The valkyrie nods her head some as a thoughtfull expression clouds her vissage. "Dutch,….The one who called himself Regent mention you when I met him. He made mention of my Chieftans desire to …mate you to one of the Blodwulf women. I am not sure if I would be pleased or annoyed at such a thought. So that you are aware I am not a brood mare and I will not be mounted by what ever stallion my Sire trots past me…I am Valkyrie, daughter of Odin, chooser of the slain and I will pick my own mates for my own pleasures." The woman lifts her chin and those blue eyes dance with fire and a sudden glow of tamped fury.

Dutch closes his eyes as he takes his first drink, and that same smirk still on his face afterwards. "I don't give a damn about your preferences." he laughs out, becoming more hearty until it finally dies down and his face is left emotionless once again, and those emeralds fixed. "And I'm not a stud to be simply gifted out upon someone else's whim." he is sure to add. So this is the one. The one that they had in mind. Fools. He thinks all this in his mind while peering at this valkyrie. He can feel the fury that has overcome her, but it doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He finally just leans back into the chair and smiles. "Such a bold woman you are." and he chuckles again at the meer thought of either of them being actual horses. Such a strange thing to refer to themselves this way. Like livestock, only nurtured for personal gain. Only around to fulfill the fearful plans of the weak. He takes another long drink from his glass, the blood rushing down into him, chilled, and pleasing. It's such an odd thing that this simple liquid would soothe over him in such a way, but it does indeed. As though his entire being hinges upon it. It wasn't like that in the beginning, and he fought the urge to feed with everything he had. Just weakness he realizes now. But still this girl, nay this woman of some virtue. A Blodtwulf. What a waste. He can hear the whispers of her potential from the ethereal, telling him of her great lineage from the gods of old. Amazing really. "So you are no mare. I am no stud. Glad we have that out of the way. So tell me more about yourself princess." he coos this out slyly, maybe a hint of his deviousness in his voice now, as she has begun to peak his interest. He admires loyality, but respects honesty, courage, and most of all compassion. Such signs he is looking for. But there is something else about her.

Those summer blue eyes narrow as she watches him and she practically glows with the heat of her emotions. To say vampires are cold is to never have touched a Blodwulf. The heat of her sires rages runs through her veins now, tempered by her womans heart but never mistake gender for weakness . like the great lions of the plains , the male may roar and bluster but it is the females that hunt the prey. She watches him over her mug as she takes another deep gulp of her drink then thumps the mug down "so we have said..you are no stud and I no brood mare, so what does that make us ehh? Allys for now it would seem untill the chiefs of our lines choose other wise. " She rubs a hand over the wolfs shoulder and pats him " There is not much of me to tell. I am Mist, daughter of the All Father Odin. I rode fields of battle with my sword brother Freki here and together we ushered warriors to Valhalla and others to feast with Freya. I have spent ages serving the All Father along with my sisters, doing as we were ment to do. One evening of feasting The all father made a bost that all the great warriors that ever were , were now seated at his table and I was unwise and disagreed…"

A laugh bellows from Dutch once again, not at the story, but at the weakness of one he would think so noble. Hmmph. Just another engrate festering in fear. He can see the fiery glow, but as before there is no change. He is not the beast of the plains. That much is clear. There is no one under his command, and he keeps it that way rightly so. Hiding behind someone else of power only makes them weaker. The challenge of true battle is a pleasure that forces growth, strength, and power. Gender has absolutely nothing to do with it. Confidence has everything to do with it. "Too bad." he closes his eyes once again, as the glint from the dance floor lighting passes over his form, illuminating it once again for all the eyes to see. His glass still in hand is shaken softly, in a circle, and the ice within jangles around. He brings it to his lips and takes another drink, before seating down once again, empty, and the chilled essence lulling over his insides. His scuffs and scrapes seeming to completely be healed by now. "A lord would be wise to listen to counsel. I guess that wasn't the case for your Odin, your father then." The smirk is there once again, playful but dabbling on the side of sarcasim. He cannot really help the fact that his soul is twisted as such and forsaken of pity for the ignorant. "How glorious an end to such a life though. Could have been worse." he follows up, to maybe lax her a bit. To show that he respects standing up for what you believe in, no matter the consequence. His eyes open and fixate to the blue quite suddenly, there narrow peer almost a sneer to the wolf at her side, as he hasn't even got a single look. Not even once. If he wanted the company of beasts he has but to seek them in the dark forest where he spends so much of his time. As of late there are other things lurking in the shadows though. Things manifested of pure evil and hatred. They have been called here by the clumsy acts of greed commited by many, this demons of old blood. The one he faced the other day was grand but weak. He knows there are more powerful ones that have yet to heed whatever rip in the planes fabric there is. Maybe it's just not big enough to move that much power. "Then allies we are, Mist. I will not lie though. You are most interesting to me." he states without a second thought, and his eyes finally waver from hers and take in the curvaicous form. It taunts him a bit, but it's nothing he hasn't had to resist before. Every human is like a happy meal with legs, and even though he has a fondness for them, he cannot simply be around them for an extended amount of time. It's not the same with her, but it's getting there. With all that big talk, it just arouses some kind of baser instinct. Like a challenge presented before him. "My own story is quite simple. I was human, and in another place. Now I am not either." as he ends he gives a contented sigh, the chill of the blood now coming to a close. It's always been a bit odd however, that such a being could produce any heat at all. But none the less, he longs for it. Or his being does rather.

The womans fingers curl in wolf fur. Her regard for the beast is clear for he is her sword brother. They have shared the battle field, he as her mount and when she was banished from the realm of Valhalla Freki, Odins own wolf choose to follow her in to exile. When she was brought unto death and then changed by Drakth , the wolfs concern for his sword sister was his undoing as she turned to him in that hour of fevered need and took his blood and offered her own in kind. The wolf made kindred simply watchs the man now with no offer of warning or growls. That his sword sister has accepted the man in her presence is enough for the great beast. Mist tilts her head and looks to those green eyes letting her long legs fall to the floor and leaning forward so that the rise of her bust is visible above the molded contures of her breast plate "and how was it that you were made as you are now? The one I met did not seem to have the…drive, to hunt and create new children…"

Oh he so loves this womans fire, as it is entertaining to him to say the least. That idle hand. He can sense the common seed in them both. Blood. Battle. It's something he cannot help but smirk about. As those legs fall his eyes are on them, yes. Following up to the sculpted thigh and all the shadowed crevases. Her bust only adds to the pleasurably sight he beholds. Such a shame if she was to be his enemy in the long run. Such a shame. After taking in the sights she offers up so gracious to himself, he finally answers. "I was cast down, and left for dead. Some demonic power I had no comprehension of." he looks off into the mindless crowd of sheep gathered with them in the little club. Watching their figures dance and the shadows cast around them. "He, however how weak, created me. To save me from death. Something that held my loyalty for a long time. But it seems sacrifice is a fate that has endured around me." he finishes and looks straight into her eyes once again, no smirk just those eyes of longing, and maybe a hint of wanting.

Oh he so loves this womans fire, as it is entertaining to him to say the least. That idle hand. He can sense the common seed in them both. Blood. Battle. It's something he cannot help but smirk about. As those legs fall his eyes are on them, yes. Following up to the sculpted thigh and all the shadowed crevases. Her bust only adds to the pleasurably sight he beholds. Such a shame if she was to be his enemy in the long run. Such a shame. After taking in the sights she offers up so gracious to himself, he finally answers. "I was cast down, and left for dead. Some demonic power I had no comprehension of." he looks off into the mindless crowd of sheep gathered with them in the little club. Watching their figures dance and the shadows cast around them. "He, however how weak, created me. To save me from death. Something that held my loyalty for a long time. But it seems sacrifice is a fate that has endured around me." he finishes and looks straight into her eyes once again, no smirk just those eyes of longing, and maybe a hint of wanting.

Fire burns in those summer blue eyes. She is not a wrathfull creature as such, oh she can rage but one easily gets the sense that all of life or unlife is to be taken by both hands and feasted from. The joy of battle, the pleasure of the feast the extacey of a fierce and lusty mating. Her head tilts and the light from the dance floor sets the red of her hair a blaze. "I have always known the names of the warriors I have come across and yet I did not know yours. You on the other hand knew mine and my habits. Tell me how this is so? Is it a power of your line or just yourself as mine is with me?"

Smiling at the valkyrie's simpy question, understanding the curiousity, as his mind is an inquisitive one as well. "The ethereal tells me many things. I cannot explain it further without opening myself up to you." and it's clear that it's not something his is going to simply do. His sense do flare as he seems to be intreged by him as well, and wonders if her loins are set afire as her saucy attitude roars for that brief period, but he moves on, not wanting to dwell on it at the time. The interest is there anyhow. He is normally a man of very few words, but he finds himself wanting to conversate with this being however. Shadows now cast across him as well, and he leans forward, placing one hand extended out on the table and the other brought across infront of him as a prop.

She is not one usually stired by those who are not brought to the lands of Valhalla, at least, this was her way before she was banished to this strange realm. This one before her is not a warrior or she would have known his name and yet, there is something about him that brings her focus to him intently. When he leans forward she arches a brow and that reach across the table makes that "cloak" of raven feathers shift restlessly. She looks at that hand for a moment then slides her own out and her fingers just brush his. Her skin is hot, amazingly so for one who is dead but it is the heat and rage of her sire that has gifted her undead form with that peternatural warmth. Those blue eyes bore into his and her head tilts just a fraction to the side. With a dart of her tongue between her new fangs she licks her lip. "I would know more, what is this entity that speaks to you, is it your god?"

Dutch did not expect that lovely hand to grace his own, as he was just stretching out, showing that he doesn't have a bit of fear. But it's entirely soothing. In more ways than she would ever guess at the moment. That warmth coursing over his own cold skin, absorbing it as it was offered forward. It's very pleasant and makes him feel as though that hand has the blessing of Ra himself. A smile grows upon his lips but not the same cocky smirk, something much more friendly, and warm, but his emerald gaze remains narrowed as he has fallin for devious intentions before. Allowing someone to toy with his fondness, half out of being a new born and the other out of that curiousity. The slip of her tongue upon her lips only invokes further arousal to his being, and he watches closely. At the inquiry he only offers up a simple explaination to the question she asks, "Perhaps, but it's not always so. Spirit's from the astral plane….not all of them with good intentions, if you know what I mean." his fingers, now warmed by her own heat, work in with hers. His thick fingers, taunt and powerful, yet still unnaturally soft, clasp onto hers, pulling their hands together as his fingers slide inbetween her own. It should be added that the gift as it were is a burden at the same time. The door in his mind has to be closely guarded, as some of the maleviolent beings that exist without form would try into invade. The Decay.

She is of the newly fledged and newly arrived to nox and all her ages before her banishment count for little in this place. Here she is new and unknowing about those spirits that inhabit this place save what she has gathered in listening to her Cheifan. "I have heard of dark serpents that take form in bodys and bring them over into undeath…they are darkness personified and the blodwulf would stamp them out. I have heard My chieftan rail against the dark serpents." When his fingers curl over between hers she shifts and flexes her hand and that cloak shifts against her back and resettles. "I know that even gods can be petty and crewl, Loki and some others from that realm can be terrible. It makes only sense if there are benificent gods then there are those who are not. I have no taste for the gods anymore…years of duty for naught and here I sit forever changed. " She offers a shrug then looks to her mug and pushes it aside "oh for the days when mead would get me drunk, now even blood mead can not offer that pleasure."

He smiles politely as she shares a bit about herself with him. Dutch does enjoy the fact that she is beginning to warm up to him, and taking down the callous. This allows him to ease up a bit as well, but he is not quite sure what to make of the sudden change in her demeanor. "Well I think you are perhaps referring to the Tho'baan." he says this with bit quizzically as he isn't quite sure what she was referring to at that moment. Though the last statement seems to catch his attention much more. "Changed.." he utters sharing in the feeling, knowing what it's like to be suddenly changed, though his transformation was from the mortal realm to the immortal. His hand still locked and intertwined with her, and his gaze fixed upon her.

The woman nods her head "yes, that is the serpents I believe. One such came to the Blodwulf lands and did harm to our Anglia, the chieftan drove the serpent from the girl and she is now among us. " She wrinkles her pert nose "There is much to this place I have to learn but for now I am content to be among the tribe and serve.

This vampire has met the young Fae, Anglia. As she is mentioned in the conversation he takes a keen interest in the part about her. Anglia has a pure essence no matter how twisted the views behind it have become. That poor girl he thinks. He recollects the memory of flying with her through the sky, those skimmering wings filled with such strength. He has seen her truly happy and filled with her former self. Pity. "And she is fine?" he asks with a bit of concern, his eyes narrowing a bit more. "Who was this foul creature that would commit such a hainous act against someone so passionate?" His demeanor itself does not change but the peer tells all. He doesn't love this girl, but he cares for her as a friend.

The Valkyrie watches the man and tilts her head "the small one is not as she was, she seems wary now, in time though she will heal and be well. She has the tribe with her. I no not what the girl was called before only that she has been renamed because that which tainted her is no longer inside..she is no longer kindred as I know it to be." She offers a gentle smile when the little one is mentioned for she herself owes the little fae much for her kindness and care. That the man across from her holds a similar expression peeks the womans intrest all the more. She shifts in her seat and the wolf looks up from his spot on the floor.

Dutch nods and his eyes ease, some relief coming from the words that there is no permanent damage. He has no love for the Tho'baan, as they are just as they are taken over. Snakes. Worthless creatures that only spread grief and torment. One of the worst kinds of beings, for there is no real rhyme or reason behind the actions. "Good. Would be a shame if anything had happened to her. I'm glad that your family is there for her then, as I could not be." his words trail off a bit, but the meaning is still there. It is the same with some of the others from the Blodtwulf. Dispite his disagreements with their master, some of the souls are pure enough. He notices the shared expression as well, and his other hand reaches out to double over the intertwinement they have. That heat washing over the other cold hand, making him feel more alive than before. It's something extremely comforting to this vampire. Something that he would not simply bat away, especially under friendly conditions. This whole ordeal making him like this valkyrie setting across from him, her hand his his own now. She is of a gentle nature, but strong at the same time. A longing for her is in his veins, but it seems like it would just play into the hand of his sire, and since the respect is gone he does not wish to approve of the actions he took. Defiant till the end, but open now.

When that second hand curls over hers she looks up at the man. A smile curls her lips. She is a norse woman and a Valkyrie, all she does she does in whole measures never half. She fights hard, drinks hard, plays hard and loves hard. Those vibrant eyes smolder as she watches him then she moves quite suddenly. The woman rises quick from her seat, the legs scuffing back as her cloak suddenly snaps open and two giant ravens wings frame her body as she quickly leans forward and her mouth is quite suddenly on his. The kiss is fierece hot and demanding as her lips mesh to his and her tongue seeks the depths of his mouth. Those great wings cup forward in a mantle and offer a hide for the pair from the eyes of the bar.

If there was anyway to take this being by surprise, this was definately the way to go about it. He blinks into the kiss, at first, his body tensing up and ready for anything. Any sign of a hostile reaction, but as the those wings shroud the pair, he melts forward against them. His lips opening and letting her tongue pass into his mouth as his own pushes out, trying to nudge back into her own mouth. As this kiss happens he slowly stands from his own perch, realizing only then that she is just as tall as he, and finds the whole thing to be arousing to say the least. Work hard, play hard. Yes. This is something very similar to himself, and he likes it. One hand stand clasped to her hand and the other simply grabbing the table and pushing it onto it's side. The glasses, her helm, and the axe all go tumbling. He doesn't think about how she will take it, or if the axe is some great symbolance for her. He himself not being able to use weapons without a surge of pain being shot over him. One of the reasons he constantly pushes his body to it's limits, and sets new one. Constantly training to be faster, stronger, and develop his psychic based techniques. The warth from her pierces deep into him. The warm breath. The heat of her lips. He ponders longingly over the scent he is catching from her. That sweetness from her nethers. After the table is out of the way though, the hand locks onto that curvacious wasteline and pulls her warth into him.

When the table is knocked aside the noise brings eyes to the pair and the great wolf leaps back with a growl as the ax falls with a clang that out matches the noise of the falling helm. The woman moves easily into him and her free hand slides up along the back of his head to twine in his hair as she works her mouth over his. Tongues meet and jost then swirl and rub in the heat of the intensity of that kiss. Her wings frame them in a cupping of soft feathers though she works to keep the first few flight feathers along her wing tips away from him…the silvery flachetts razor sharp and deadly.

Dutch feels this heat all over, his skin absorbing it as if he was in a memory and walking beneath the sun itself again. Feeling the warm rays beating down upon his sweaty body from the work outdoors, but then letting the cool breeze over take his hot and wet being. There are so many feelings that are stirred, there is no way to truly express. For as long as this kiss lasts, he is not alone. Something that he has always been. Even in life his ambition got the better of him. There was no room for creature comforts like love. There was no deep seeded relations with the fairer sex. Just flings. Nothing lasting even a month. It wasn't until his change that the longing desire to intertwine was there. Suppressed deep but called out somewhat wildly. His locked hand moving down, and up beneath that supple leather dressing about her waist, coming to rest with a squeeze on her firm ass. The mingling hands being brought up to his chest, as to feel if his heart is beating, knowing that he is still dead though.

The womans wings slowly open as she draws back from that kiss. The feel of his hand on rump brings a toothy smile to her lips . Looking up at him she licks those lips. Her fingers stroke the hair against the back of his neck "so Ally, would you like to have a proper introduction to the Blodwulf? It would not be such a bad thing perhaps to have you close at hand" Pressed against him as she is the heat of her beats at him.

As that wet embrace comes to a close, he is simply left longing, and a hand on that fine bottom. But it slowly slips away as his eyes open. He still has the warm all about him though. It's quite incredable how much so. His cool skin like parched soil, reaching and grasping for the waters of life. First he sees that toothy smile but does not return an expression, as she carries on and asks if he would like to go to her clans grounds. On their open soil he can be challenged. He doesn't feel that this is a ruse however…and after those emeralds meet the blue for a few moments, he tilts his chin up slightly and states, "So. Go back with you then?" He ponders on it just a few more seconds and then spouts. "Okay then." and a smile is beamed to her once again.

Mist smiles and nods "I am not offering to let you mount me, stallion..but I will think on it" She laughs heartily and gives the hair at the back of his neck a little tug. "do you think you are ready to face the Chiefan? He can be fierce..He respects those who stand and do not fear though…"

Dutch lets loose a laugh along with her own, but firms himself at the tug and the question. A fierceness not seen before burning in his eyes, even worse to see in the cool veneer he toats. "Then lets go." and at that, he is serious once again. The justicar presence returns. That guard up once again. The warrior returns.

The woman nods then releases the man before her and steps back. "I will escort you then to the land of the Blodwulf" she folds those wings behind her and once more they resemble a feathered cloak. Stooping she takes up her ax and helm, the latter placed on her head. Looking down at the wolf she murmurs "come Freki, we have a guest to bring to the Cheiftan"

Dutch simply nods and crosses his arms, waiting to follow her lead, which is the respectful thing to do in this situation. His face free of emotion and looking utterly relaxed. He still feels the heat throughout his body however, and maybe just wants to feel that bottom again. Who knows. Still he awaits. He is more than able to match any flying pace as well.

The Valkyrie calls to the wolf and heads for the door. Looking back there is a smolder in those blue eyes. What ever comes there is an honest intrest in those eyes. Stepping out into the night air she pats Freki then slides a leg over his shoulders and takes a seat. Curling her fingers into thick fur she lets out a whoop and calls back "think you can keep up Dutch?"

Dutch follows her out to the night with a step thru the door. His body begins to float above the ground, arms still crossed and he gives her a firm nod. Those wings know the power of flight, and that he could be there already if he wanted. He wants to be in her presence for the time being however, and will simply match the pace.

The Valkyrie has no intention of using her own wings. She leans over and yips to the wolf and he takes off. The great beast stretching out his long legs eating up the distance as he races over the land toward the blodwulf grounds.

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