The Slowest Striptease Ever Witnessed [1/4]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 02:41:57 UTC
I used my own Warden and apologize for the minor anonfail! _______________________
“Commander!”
Thrusting the pummel of her greatsword into the chest of the darkspawn in front of her, Líadan Cousland lifted a foot to kick the creature backwards. It crashed onto one of its brethren, leading them both into a pile of writhing armor. “What is it?” she called out, unwilling to turn her eyes from the things in front of her. “There should be enough lyrium potion in your pack!”
Velanna rolled her eyes before lifting her staff high in the air, a cool rush of air flowing over her as her spell was released. The hurlock struggling to stand from Lía's blow froze and then fell atop the other one for the second time.
“There's no more! I wouldn't have said anything if there was!”
Hurrying past the body that crossed the path, her eyes settled on the hurlock sniper a few yards off. Even from this distance, she could see the bulky muscles in his arm twitch as he pulled back an arrow aimed in Justice's direction. “Anders, cover us!”
When he didn't reply, she picked up speed, her heavy feet kicking up dust on the crowded road. Their path had been empty mere moments before, but now it was littered with bodies and the thick, black blood of darkspawn. Justice was too focused on the emissary to see the sniper's arrow leave its bow. Only when his shoulder snapped back did his axe give pause.
“That's the point!” Anders' voice lifted above the clashing of swords and armor, the sizzle of lightning and shifting of vines; it was shriller than usual. Something was wrong. “I need healing!”
A swing of her greatsword impacted the sniper's shoulder, and it staggered to the side. This blow did little to distract it, as no more than a moment later, another arrow was pulled from its quiver and shot towards the mage.
Lía let out a low growl before taking a step back, her thighs tensing as she drew herself closer to the ground to find the leverage she needed to thrust the blade forward. The hurlock roared in pain when the sharp blade pierced the muscles in its upper arm, forcing it to drop the bow, which fell to the ground in another puff of dirt. Yellowed eyes stared up at her, a mouth filled with broken teeth opening as a litany of jumbled, wordless threats left its lips.
All it took was another swing of her heavy sword, and the hurlock sniper fell to the ground in a pile of bones and rusted armor, the putrid smell of darkspawn blood rolling over her as the thing's neck spurted at her.
Lips curled downward in disgust, she spat on the ground next to its body before turning towards her party.
Velanna was standing near Justice as he pulled himself up off of the ground, her attention turned entirely towards the pack in her arms. She was looking for something - a lyrium potion, a poultice, even some elfroot would have been enough to sate her at the moment, but she could find nothing but a bit of alcohol and bandages. Justice opened his own pack, and, knowing what she was looking for, removed a small vial, palming it over to her.
Just as she saw the elf's mouth move in what appeared to be a thank you, Lía heard a short peal of laughter from the opposite direction. The sound was tight and less than genuine. That was when she remembered Anders' shouting.
Dropping her sword onto the ground, she hurried over to him, coming to a full stop mere feet away from him. Her eyebrows tilted upwards in concern, but he couldn't see them. He was too busy staring at the arrow sticking out of his hip, his fingers shaking as they moved around the arrow's jagged fletching, so overcome with surprise that he could hardly blink, much less speak.
“I've seen worse,” Lía murmured, a poor attempt to get his attention. She swallowed back the urge to call for Velanna's help, instead biting down on her bottom lip and shifting on her feet. “I've had worse.”
“Yes, well, this doesn't usually happen to me, you see.” His eyes moved up to hers, though his chin was still tilted downward, his frayed ponytail sending his blonde hair over his face. “It's all very--” Taking a shaky breath, he let go of the arrow, only daring to touch it again once and this time with no more than the tips of his fingers. “Very new. To me. Maker's breath, get it out.”
The Slowest Striptease Ever Witnessed [2/4]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 02:42:37 UTC
Reaching out, she grasped his shoulder, bending just far enough downwards to look into his face. “Relax,” she said, sure to soften the hardened edge in her voice. “You said you needed lyrium. I suppose this means you don't have enough mana to heal yourself.”
“Of course I do,” he replied stolidly. “I'm just trying to remember this feeling in vivid detail. Of course I'm out of bloody mana. Why else would I be standing here with an arrow stuck in me?”
When Lía narrowed her grey eyes at him, his mouth snapped shut.
“Sarcasm isn't going to help you,” she murmured, looking to the arrow in order to inspect the entrance site. “It's buried fairly deep. It knew what it was doing. I'm only hoping that it went straight--” Leaning forward, she turned just enough to see the tip of the arrow sticking out the back of his robes. “-- through.”
Anders swayed on his feet as nausea ripped through him. “All - all the way through? It went all the way through? Does that make this more difficult? Will be you able to get it out?”
“Anders.”
“You'd be asking questions if you were in my position!”
“The first time I was shot through with an arrow, I was hardly nine. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt, and I cried like a baby.” Pulling herself up to her full height, she looked down at him, her head tilted slightly to the side. “The next time I was shot, I didn't even notice until someone pointed it out. Think of this as a learning experience.”
“You know, somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better.”
A small smile quirked in the corner of her mouth. “Didn't mean for it to,” she replied, the tiny smile morphing into a grin at Anders' dramatized expression of helplessness. “Velanna, we need your help.”
The elf nearly bristled, but she thought better of it, choosing to move over to them instead. Curiosity donned upon her when she saw the arrow poking out of Anders' hip. She took a step forward, between him and Lía, and bent to take a closer look. “The nock looks more finely carved than the ones we usually come across. Hurlock, yes?” When Lía nodded, she turned to it again, making no attempt at gentleness when she moved it upwards.
Even the smallest movements had Anders shrinking backwards, his open palms waving in front of her. “That's not necessary. I just want it out of me, then we can get back to the Keep. I can heal it myself.”
“I am only checking to see if it might be poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“It's a distinct posibility,” Lía chimed in from Velanna's side. “There was a vial of something on its belt.”
Anders' warm brown eyes turned solid as they flared wide, but the size doubled farther when Velanna spoke. “I won't be able to tell for sure with your robes on.”
“Right here? We're in the middle of the path. Anyone could come along!”
“And your wound may be festering with darkspawn poison as we speak.”
“Frankly, I'd rather --”
Lía crossed her arms. “Anders, take off your robes, or I'll be remove them myself.” Her voice lowered to a tone that would have sounded threatening if not for the subject. “And we have no extras in our packs. So either you're in your smalls now, or you'll be walking the rest of the way to the Keep without a scrap of clothing on you.”
His jaw slackened. He really hated her sometimes. He was so torn between blinding pain, frustration, modesty, annoyance, and arousal that he could hardly cobble together enough words to tell Velanna to stop leaning so close to the entry point.
“Does it have to be right here? In the middle of the path?” he asked. Lía felt her resolve nudged more towards concern and farther away from anger at herself for not purchasing more potions while she was in Amaranthine. He could do that, and it frustrated her. One pathetic gleam in those eyes of his, and she was suddenly less terrifying Warden-Commander and more pudding.
The Slowest Striptease Ever Witnessed [3/4]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 02:43:11 UTC
“Fine. Fine.” Pulling Velanna out of the way, she held out both of her large hands. “Give me the bandages and the alcohol. You keep watch with Justice. We'll be... in the woods.” When the elf handed over the needed objects and she'd left them alone, Lía shot a narrowed gaze at Anders. “You've never had trouble getting out of your robes before.”
“Different situation,” he replied through gritted teeth. When he continued, she had to physically repress the urge to smack him on the head. “Very different case when you're out of your armor.”
“Get your arse in the woods.”
He obeyed her order despite the amusement in her voice, as he wanted this damned thing out of his hip as soon as was possible. The fact that his limp and the pain worsened with every step only intensified his desire to rip it right out of him. Even so, he knew that was hardly an option. It'd only cause him more pain and perhaps even permanent damage.
Once they were alone, she came to a halt directly in front of him. “Do you want me to help you, or can you manage yourself?”
“I can't bend,” he murmured, “So unless you'd like the slowest striptease ever witnessed, I could use your help.”
“Well...”
“Help. Please.”
Chuckling, Líadan took a long step forward. “Of course I'll help you.” Her hands went to his collar, fingers slipping beneath the feathered shoulder pads and lifting them upwards. He shut his eyes as she pulled them over his head and let them fall onto the ground. “So you've really never taken an arrow before?” she asked, brows cinching together as she fussed with the thin golden lace that held the top of his robes together.
“I've gotten scrapes,” he said. His eyes were downcast as he watched her work, unable and unwilling to interrupt her concentration. “But I've never actually been shot through with one. Archers are usually the first to go. I make sure of that.”
“Never been in a fight with a sniper, either, I wager?”
“How could you tell?” Swallowing hard as he watched her hand move to the dagger at her hip. “What are you doing?”
“I have to cut the fabric around the arrow so I can remove it,” she explained, not even noticing as the mage cringed at the sound of the robe ripping. With her dagger pulled away, he felt her hand slip through the gash in the fabric, the rough pad of her thumb running along the dip just beside where the arrow protruded from him. “It's not nearly as bad as I expected. And it's not poisoned.”
He swayed forward, though this time he had to rest his hand on her shoulder to keep from falling forward. “Not as bad, huh? That's - that's good to hear.”
“Stay here, Anders,” she said, giving the skin a rough pinch that flung his eyes open wide again. “I know it hurts. Just... focus.”
“Focus. I can focus.”
She gave him a small smile. “That's good to hear.”
He didn't put up a fight when she finally removed his robes and set about cleaning the wound. He hardly felt a thing as she poured the alcohol onto two bandages packed closely together and cleaned the area around the arrow. He was so focused on the top of her head, on her thick, black brows and the bump in the bridge of her nose, that he could hardly hear anything besides his own breathing.
When the arrow was finally removed and the bandages were applied, Lía stood before him, the darkspawn arrow held in her hand. “Would you like to keep it? To commemorate your first arrow?”
Snatching the thing away from her, Anders broke it in two and threw it to the side. “No thank you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “Thank you for doing this yourself. I know you hate dealing with this sort of thing.”
Her fingers went to his hair, combing it back away from his face. “I don't hate it because I don't want to help. I hate it because I'm usually so bad at it. When you get back to the Keep, you should see one of the mages. They can fix it better than I could.”
The Slowest Striptease Ever Witnessed [4/4]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 02:43:41 UTC
“I don't know. You did a fairly good job for a woman whose idea of tact is saying 'you're welcome' after stabbing someone in the throat.”
Lía gave a snort of laughter. “You're delirious.”
“I'm right.”
“Delirious.”
“Maybe, but it doesn't make me any less right.”
Sighing heavily, her hands settled on either side of his throat, her palms resting against the slope of his neck and her thumbs running over the curve of his jaw. Without another word, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a small kiss. He was a lot stronger than he gave himself credit for. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he hadn't so much as whimpered when she broke the tip off of the arrow and removed it. “We should get back to the others before they leave without us.”
Lía was no more than a few steps away when she heard Anders clear his throat from behind her. She twisted, the balls of her feet crushing the leaves beneath her. He was half-leaning against the tree where they'd been standing. “You have to slow down.”
Her brows shot upward, and she strayed there for a moment before walking back over to him. “Would you like me to carry you, Ser Gimp?”
“Oh, ha ha, very funny.”
Giving his temple a peck of a kiss, she smiled, her arm swooping around his back to shoulder most of his weight. He went willingly, more than content enough with himself to not be in the slightest bit wary of being assisted by a woman. “I thought it was.”
Re: The Slowest Striptease Ever Witnessed [4/4]
anonymous
August 16 2010, 06:44:58 UTC
Not the OP, but this was adorable. It's nice to see something cute and funny, without the smut on occasion. I know it's a kinkmeme, but funny banter is sort of a kink, right? >_>
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“Commander!”
Thrusting the pummel of her greatsword into the chest of the darkspawn in front of her, Líadan Cousland lifted a foot to kick the creature backwards. It crashed onto one of its brethren, leading them both into a pile of writhing armor. “What is it?” she called out, unwilling to turn her eyes from the things in front of her. “There should be enough lyrium potion in your pack!”
Velanna rolled her eyes before lifting her staff high in the air, a cool rush of air flowing over her as her spell was released. The hurlock struggling to stand from Lía's blow froze and then fell atop the other one for the second time.
“There's no more! I wouldn't have said anything if there was!”
Hurrying past the body that crossed the path, her eyes settled on the hurlock sniper a few yards off. Even from this distance, she could see the bulky muscles in his arm twitch as he pulled back an arrow aimed in Justice's direction. “Anders, cover us!”
When he didn't reply, she picked up speed, her heavy feet kicking up dust on the crowded road. Their path had been empty mere moments before, but now it was littered with bodies and the thick, black blood of darkspawn. Justice was too focused on the emissary to see the sniper's arrow leave its bow. Only when his shoulder snapped back did his axe give pause.
“That's the point!” Anders' voice lifted above the clashing of swords and armor, the sizzle of lightning and shifting of vines; it was shriller than usual. Something was wrong. “I need healing!”
A swing of her greatsword impacted the sniper's shoulder, and it staggered to the side. This blow did little to distract it, as no more than a moment later, another arrow was pulled from its quiver and shot towards the mage.
Lía let out a low growl before taking a step back, her thighs tensing as she drew herself closer to the ground to find the leverage she needed to thrust the blade forward. The hurlock roared in pain when the sharp blade pierced the muscles in its upper arm, forcing it to drop the bow, which fell to the ground in another puff of dirt. Yellowed eyes stared up at her, a mouth filled with broken teeth opening as a litany of jumbled, wordless threats left its lips.
All it took was another swing of her heavy sword, and the hurlock sniper fell to the ground in a pile of bones and rusted armor, the putrid smell of darkspawn blood rolling over her as the thing's neck spurted at her.
Lips curled downward in disgust, she spat on the ground next to its body before turning towards her party.
Velanna was standing near Justice as he pulled himself up off of the ground, her attention turned entirely towards the pack in her arms. She was looking for something - a lyrium potion, a poultice, even some elfroot would have been enough to sate her at the moment, but she could find nothing but a bit of alcohol and bandages. Justice opened his own pack, and, knowing what she was looking for, removed a small vial, palming it over to her.
Just as she saw the elf's mouth move in what appeared to be a thank you, Lía heard a short peal of laughter from the opposite direction. The sound was tight and less than genuine. That was when she remembered Anders' shouting.
Dropping her sword onto the ground, she hurried over to him, coming to a full stop mere feet away from him. Her eyebrows tilted upwards in concern, but he couldn't see them. He was too busy staring at the arrow sticking out of his hip, his fingers shaking as they moved around the arrow's jagged fletching, so overcome with surprise that he could hardly blink, much less speak.
“I've seen worse,” Lía murmured, a poor attempt to get his attention. She swallowed back the urge to call for Velanna's help, instead biting down on her bottom lip and shifting on her feet. “I've had worse.”
“Yes, well, this doesn't usually happen to me, you see.” His eyes moved up to hers, though his chin was still tilted downward, his frayed ponytail sending his blonde hair over his face. “It's all very--” Taking a shaky breath, he let go of the arrow, only daring to touch it again once and this time with no more than the tips of his fingers. “Very new. To me. Maker's breath, get it out.”
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“Of course I do,” he replied stolidly. “I'm just trying to remember this feeling in vivid detail. Of course I'm out of bloody mana. Why else would I be standing here with an arrow stuck in me?”
When Lía narrowed her grey eyes at him, his mouth snapped shut.
“Sarcasm isn't going to help you,” she murmured, looking to the arrow in order to inspect the entrance site. “It's buried fairly deep. It knew what it was doing. I'm only hoping that it went straight--” Leaning forward, she turned just enough to see the tip of the arrow sticking out the back of his robes. “-- through.”
Anders swayed on his feet as nausea ripped through him. “All - all the way through? It went all the way through? Does that make this more difficult? Will be you able to get it out?”
“Anders.”
“You'd be asking questions if you were in my position!”
“The first time I was shot through with an arrow, I was hardly nine. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt, and I cried like a baby.” Pulling herself up to her full height, she looked down at him, her head tilted slightly to the side. “The next time I was shot, I didn't even notice until someone pointed it out. Think of this as a learning experience.”
“You know, somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better.”
A small smile quirked in the corner of her mouth. “Didn't mean for it to,” she replied, the tiny smile morphing into a grin at Anders' dramatized expression of helplessness. “Velanna, we need your help.”
The elf nearly bristled, but she thought better of it, choosing to move over to them instead. Curiosity donned upon her when she saw the arrow poking out of Anders' hip. She took a step forward, between him and Lía, and bent to take a closer look. “The nock looks more finely carved than the ones we usually come across. Hurlock, yes?” When Lía nodded, she turned to it again, making no attempt at gentleness when she moved it upwards.
Even the smallest movements had Anders shrinking backwards, his open palms waving in front of her. “That's not necessary. I just want it out of me, then we can get back to the Keep. I can heal it myself.”
“I am only checking to see if it might be poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“It's a distinct posibility,” Lía chimed in from Velanna's side. “There was a vial of something on its belt.”
Anders' warm brown eyes turned solid as they flared wide, but the size doubled farther when Velanna spoke. “I won't be able to tell for sure with your robes on.”
“Right here? We're in the middle of the path. Anyone could come along!”
“And your wound may be festering with darkspawn poison as we speak.”
“Frankly, I'd rather --”
Lía crossed her arms. “Anders, take off your robes, or I'll be remove them myself.” Her voice lowered to a tone that would have sounded threatening if not for the subject. “And we have no extras in our packs. So either you're in your smalls now, or you'll be walking the rest of the way to the Keep without a scrap of clothing on you.”
His jaw slackened. He really hated her sometimes. He was so torn between blinding pain, frustration, modesty, annoyance, and arousal that he could hardly cobble together enough words to tell Velanna to stop leaning so close to the entry point.
“Does it have to be right here? In the middle of the path?” he asked. Lía felt her resolve nudged more towards concern and farther away from anger at herself for not purchasing more potions while she was in Amaranthine. He could do that, and it frustrated her. One pathetic gleam in those eyes of his, and she was suddenly less terrifying Warden-Commander and more pudding.
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“Different situation,” he replied through gritted teeth. When he continued, she had to physically repress the urge to smack him on the head. “Very different case when you're out of your armor.”
“Get your arse in the woods.”
He obeyed her order despite the amusement in her voice, as he wanted this damned thing out of his hip as soon as was possible. The fact that his limp and the pain worsened with every step only intensified his desire to rip it right out of him. Even so, he knew that was hardly an option. It'd only cause him more pain and perhaps even permanent damage.
Once they were alone, she came to a halt directly in front of him. “Do you want me to help you, or can you manage yourself?”
“I can't bend,” he murmured, “So unless you'd like the slowest striptease ever witnessed, I could use your help.”
“Well...”
“Help. Please.”
Chuckling, Líadan took a long step forward. “Of course I'll help you.” Her hands went to his collar, fingers slipping beneath the feathered shoulder pads and lifting them upwards. He shut his eyes as she pulled them over his head and let them fall onto the ground. “So you've really never taken an arrow before?” she asked, brows cinching together as she fussed with the thin golden lace that held the top of his robes together.
“I've gotten scrapes,” he said. His eyes were downcast as he watched her work, unable and unwilling to interrupt her concentration. “But I've never actually been shot through with one. Archers are usually the first to go. I make sure of that.”
“Never been in a fight with a sniper, either, I wager?”
“How could you tell?” Swallowing hard as he watched her hand move to the dagger at her hip. “What are you doing?”
“I have to cut the fabric around the arrow so I can remove it,” she explained, not even noticing as the mage cringed at the sound of the robe ripping. With her dagger pulled away, he felt her hand slip through the gash in the fabric, the rough pad of her thumb running along the dip just beside where the arrow protruded from him. “It's not nearly as bad as I expected. And it's not poisoned.”
He swayed forward, though this time he had to rest his hand on her shoulder to keep from falling forward. “Not as bad, huh? That's - that's good to hear.”
“Stay here, Anders,” she said, giving the skin a rough pinch that flung his eyes open wide again. “I know it hurts. Just... focus.”
“Focus. I can focus.”
She gave him a small smile. “That's good to hear.”
He didn't put up a fight when she finally removed his robes and set about cleaning the wound. He hardly felt a thing as she poured the alcohol onto two bandages packed closely together and cleaned the area around the arrow. He was so focused on the top of her head, on her thick, black brows and the bump in the bridge of her nose, that he could hardly hear anything besides his own breathing.
When the arrow was finally removed and the bandages were applied, Lía stood before him, the darkspawn arrow held in her hand. “Would you like to keep it? To commemorate your first arrow?”
Snatching the thing away from her, Anders broke it in two and threw it to the side. “No thank you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “Thank you for doing this yourself. I know you hate dealing with this sort of thing.”
Her fingers went to his hair, combing it back away from his face. “I don't hate it because I don't want to help. I hate it because I'm usually so bad at it. When you get back to the Keep, you should see one of the mages. They can fix it better than I could.”
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Lía gave a snort of laughter. “You're delirious.”
“I'm right.”
“Delirious.”
“Maybe, but it doesn't make me any less right.”
Sighing heavily, her hands settled on either side of his throat, her palms resting against the slope of his neck and her thumbs running over the curve of his jaw. Without another word, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a small kiss. He was a lot stronger than he gave himself credit for. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he hadn't so much as whimpered when she broke the tip off of the arrow and removed it. “We should get back to the others before they leave without us.”
Lía was no more than a few steps away when she heard Anders clear his throat from behind her. She twisted, the balls of her feet crushing the leaves beneath her. He was half-leaning against the tree where they'd been standing. “You have to slow down.”
Her brows shot upward, and she strayed there for a moment before walking back over to him. “Would you like me to carry you, Ser Gimp?”
“Oh, ha ha, very funny.”
Giving his temple a peck of a kiss, she smiled, her arm swooping around his back to shoulder most of his weight. He went willingly, more than content enough with himself to not be in the slightest bit wary of being assisted by a woman. “I thought it was.”
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Loved it.
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=D
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