A Log
And a last-ditch attempt to get Theo's attention?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Oho, husband mine, so now that I'm flirting with someone, NOW you decide to come out?
sir_agravaiting: A: ...can I still flirt with you a bit?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Please, please do.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Clearly you don't know my husband. :D
sir_agravaiting: A: *big grin! and thumbs up!* Not as I'd like to know you, know. *autoleer*
queen_oracle: Mickle: I'm a desperate woman, of course.
sir_agravaiting: A: And royalty holds a special attraction for me.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Does it really? That's charming.
sir_agravaiting: A: As long as the royal in question is a pretty girl, anyway.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Naturally. I'd be very disappointed if you preferred old, ugly, male royalty.
sir_agravaiting: A: Yeah--- no, not so much. Definitely rather the head the crown sits on is covered with longish, totally not white or grey, hair.
queen_oracle: Mickle: You would have liked seeing me rule very much, then. *teasing*
sir_agravaiting: A: *autoleer* Could still see it, couldn't I?
sir_agravaiting: A: Will let thee rule my heart for a day or two at least, if tha' wish it.
queen_oracle: Mickle: But only for a day or two. I'm awfully capricious.
sir_agravaiting: A: *thanks his lucky stars there's so many flirty brunettes with baggage issues around here* *leans rakishly on a fence post* A day or two sounds lovely, your majesty.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *tosses her hair flirtily and grins; with mock primness:* Why, I'm ever so glad.
sir_agravaiting: A: A knight should have a monarch, after all.
queen_oracle: Mickle: That's true. How else would you know what to do with yourself?
sir_agravaiting: A: How else would I know who to do?
queen_oracle: Mickle: No one else is worthy of you?
sir_agravaiting: A: Oh, no, plenty are, just makes it easier this way.
sir_agravaiting: A: ...hey, I ain't picky.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *laughs!* I think it's nice to talk to somebody who's so honest. Statespeople are dreadful liars.
sir_agravaiting: A: *roguish grin* Oh, I'm nothing if not honest.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Good! *smiles the smile that makes her seem beautiful*
sir_agravaiting: A: *aand the grin grows, autoleer set to maximum* So, tell me, your majesty. What do queens do for entertainment?
queen_oracle: Mickle: They usually aren't very entertained. Sometimes they have to start wars just to have something to do. *eyebrows*
sir_agravaiting: A: ...well, I'm hardly a court jester--
sir_agravaiting: A: --but.
queen_oracle: Mickle: I hope not.
sir_agravaiting: A: ---but I'm a decent ... entertainer.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Won't you show me?
sir_agravaiting: A: *autoleer on fullll!* *leans closer* Oh, anything y'want - must do, for royalty, mustn't I?
queen_oracle: Mickle: I've heard something like that. *innocence*
sir_agravaiting: A: Especially if it's a royal decree.
queen_oracle: Mickle: And, oh, if I royally ordered you to kiss me?
sir_agravaiting: A: *very, very close now* 'Tis a knight's duty to obey his queen. *leans in, giving her a moment to back away or slap him if she was being a tease--*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *her eyes dance for a moment, as if she will, and then she meets his lips*
sir_agravaiting: A: *grins into the kiss, and, now that she's not calling the royal guards on him or anything, deepens the kiss, slipping one arm around her waist*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *places herself a perfect distance, not too far and not needingly close, and perhaps utterly owns the kiss and perhaps gives it to him*
sir_agravaiting: A: *with his one arm at her waist, tugs at her a bit, trying to bring her closer into him*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *resists fleetingly and then comes, all so gently teasing*
sir_agravaiting: A: *if his mouth were not otherwise occupied, would smirk just here* *--well, frankly, does so anyway*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *breaks off laughing* Oh, you're horrible. *--and then kisses him*
sir_agravaiting: A: *starts to say,* As your maj-- *--but doesn't get very far* *perfectly willing to go on kissing, and his other arm goes to her cheek, very lightly*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *after some time and many kisses:* That's funny, the way you touch.
sir_agravaiting: A: *a bit defensively* What's wrong with it?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Nothing! *with the exclamation mark created by a laugh* It's different. I've never been touched like that before.
sir_agravaiting: A: *runs his fingertip over her cheekbone, trails it onto her lips* Like this?
queen_oracle: Mickle: *smiles* That's right.
sir_agravaiting: A: *and down along her neck* That's a shame. Why not, then?
queen_oracle: Mickle: *catches her breath as she perhaps has never done before* It must be because I'm a Queen. I suppose there's propriety to think of.
sir_agravaiting: A: *makes an easy, shruggish sort of face* Pity. Propriety gets in the way. *and follows a rather more forceful kiss*
queen_oracle: Mickle: It does, doesn't-- *and this time she's the one to get cut off, and why is A. sexing up all my Westmark girls don't answer that it's because I'm a whore, and she kisses back*
sir_agravaiting: A: *then it's because you're a slut, tramp, skank, prostitute, hooker, lady of the night, call girl, etc* *hey, what place are they?*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *ahhhhhhh. also, wow, I have no idea. possibly still outside? we hope Theo is not watching*
sir_agravaiting: A: *snap*
sir_agravaiting: A: *haha, post this as a log in her journal, THAT'LL bring him out more often*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *might do that, since he has been NEGLECTING HER and also never sexes her up like this*
sir_agravaiting: A: *and flirty tomboy queens -need- sex! :D*
sir_agravaiting: A: *this is one of the basic tenets agravain lives by. ahem.*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *hey, Mickle sees her way to living by it, too*
sir_agravaiting: A: *goes back to kissing, idly fiddling with the rope that ties down her shirt*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *smiles at him sweetly, regaining her self-possession, and places her hand in his to occupy it* Forward.
sir_agravaiting: A: *with a rakish half-grin* My middle name.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Very dreadful. You'll have to convince me it's all right.
sir_agravaiting: A: I am a knight, y'majesty, not some diplomat, but --*and he puts his lips just to her ear to whisper,* it's -- all right.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *there's a soft shiver, almost imperceptible, and to someone who prefers to be control perhaps very satisfying* Oh, that's not trying very hard!
sir_agravaiting: A: *laughs, but quietly, which is good as he doesn't draw back to continue,* It's -very- all right?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Wretch.
sir_agravaiting: A: Knight.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Are they all like this?
sir_agravaiting: A: Not nearly enough. *--as his mouth is still in the vicinity of it, nips at her ear*
queen_oracle: Mickle: I'm just lucky? *another tiny gasp--perhaps she's a great deal more innocent than she thinks she is (the only person she's slept with is Theo, for crying out loud, and he is probably not someone well-versed in foreplay)*
sir_agravaiting: A: *---no doubt his idea of foreplay is four people playing tennis.*
sir_agravaiting: A: *or what comes before a theatrical show.*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *or golf*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *so yes; the physical aspect of this marriage is kind of pathetic, and she is astonished to find herself being slightly seduced*
sir_agravaiting: A: *only slightly? then he's not doing his job right* *nips again, then a bit lower to kiss her neck once or twice before saying,* All right yet?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Almost. *she's a tiny bit annoyed; she should not be this easy, and A. doesn't look at all like someone capable of seduction. sadly, she isn't really thinking of Theo*
sir_agravaiting: A: *snerk*
sir_agravaiting: *no, sorry, that was just me. XD*
sir_agravaiting: A: *doesn't push her (he's being gentlemanly! really! look ma, it's a miracle!); instead, he simply kisses her throat once, twice, again and again and another few times for good measure, moving across her neck, her jaw, her cheeks and lips*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *sighs, which somehow manages to express perfectly her catch between intense pleasure and slight frustration, and comes close, slipping her arms around him*
sir_agravaiting: A: *has one arm about her waist - tightly encircling her, little thing that she is, not beggar-thin anymore, but never a big person - and the other caressing her shoulder or cheek, giving a little tug to her ear, or twisting her hair around his fingers*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *no, she's certainly nothing like Zara, small but not unhealthy, and her eyes are old but her face is young, and she presses a practise kiss to his jaw, with enough confidence that it doesn't seem experimental, but only barely*
sir_agravaiting: A: *pulls lightly, teasingly, at her hair, and mumbles something unintelligibly seductive into the hollow of her throat*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *augh--lets out a soft moan and grips his shoulder*
sir_agravaiting: A: *chuckles a bit, low and nearly silent* *has been so much kissing her neck, cheeks, jaw, anything, but now returns to her mouth, more intently than before*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *kisses back, with a certain longing, her other hand at the small of his back*
sir_agravaiting: A: *moans softly, very softly, against her mouth, the hand at her waist working its way - slow and steady - to the rope's knot once again*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *this does she doesn't prevent him; instead runs her hand down his back, kisses him deeply*
sir_agravaiting: A: *score!* *wait, wait, waitwait, no, mustn't seem quite so piggish- yet-* *er, ahem, that is to say, fumbles with the knot, grappling it undone with the one hand while the other stays at the back of her neck, vaguely stroking her hair*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *as soon as he touches her skin, she pauses and attempts to draw back a little; a little breathlessly:* Some Queens do have Kings, of course.
sir_agravaiting: A: *pauses a moment, there, his hand stilling against the small of her back* ---yes--
queen_oracle: Mickle: I suppose that doesn't matter to knights? *a slightly quizzical look, a little mocking, as she recovers herself again*
sir_agravaiting: A: *gives a short, barkish sort of laugh* Oh, nay, our first duty is to our lord. Hast thou a king, then?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Not that I've noticed lately.
sir_agravaiting: A: *gives her a quizzical look* Can't be both or neither, majesty.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *with a smile* Yes, a wretched, neglectful King who never comes to see me any more. It's very tragic.
sir_agravaiting: A: *shrugs* Not my king, is he?
queen_oracle: Mickle: No, he isn't. *leans forward and kisses his mouth* All the same, I think I'd better be good.
sir_agravaiting: A: *grimaces* That's not a royal decree, is it?
queen_oracle: Mickle: *laughs, and it makes her seem ridiculously wonderful; it's one of her strong laughs, the kind that made people follow her into war* It might be.
sir_agravaiting: A: *sighs, and kisses her again, but rather more quickly, this time* Make up y'mind, then, girl.
queen_oracle: Mickle: I'm awfully sorry, of course, but I shall have to say no.
sir_agravaiting: A: *wrinkles his nose* If y'insist.
queen_oracle: Mickle: To-day. I hope you're not too disappointed.
sir_agravaiting: A: Well, no, there's always Zara. No, no, go to your king and tell him to stop neglecting you. *moves away from her*
queen_oracle: Mickle: He probably won't change, but of course it's only right to ask. *curtsies with her shirt*
sir_agravaiting: A: *gives an almost mockingly deep bow* Right, right. 's the queenly thing t'do.
queen_oracle: Mickle: It is. *and she flashes him a smile, half-apologetic, and half-triumphant*
(LJ-ify your IMs before pasting!)
queen_oracle: Mickle: Oho, husband mine, so now that I'm flirting with someone, NOW you decide to come out?
sir_agravaiting: A: ...can I still flirt with you a bit?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Please, please do.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Clearly you don't know my husband. :D
sir_agravaiting: A: *big grin! and thumbs up!* Not as I'd like to know you, know. *autoleer*
queen_oracle: Mickle: I'm a desperate woman, of course.
sir_agravaiting: A: And royalty holds a special attraction for me.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Does it really? That's charming.
sir_agravaiting: A: As long as the royal in question is a pretty girl, anyway.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Naturally. I'd be very disappointed if you preferred old, ugly, male royalty.
sir_agravaiting: A: Yeah--- no, not so much. Definitely rather the head the crown sits on is covered with longish, totally not white or grey, hair.
queen_oracle: Mickle: You would have liked seeing me rule very much, then. *teasing*
sir_agravaiting: A: *autoleer* Could still see it, couldn't I?
sir_agravaiting: A: Will let thee rule my heart for a day or two at least, if tha' wish it.
queen_oracle: Mickle: But only for a day or two. I'm awfully capricious.
sir_agravaiting: A: *thanks his lucky stars there's so many flirty brunettes with baggage issues around here* *leans rakishly on a fence post* A day or two sounds lovely, your majesty.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *tosses her hair flirtily and grins; with mock primness:* Why, I'm ever so glad.
sir_agravaiting: A: A knight should have a monarch, after all.
queen_oracle: Mickle: That's true. How else would you know what to do with yourself?
sir_agravaiting: A: How else would I know who to do?
queen_oracle: Mickle: No one else is worthy of you?
sir_agravaiting: A: Oh, no, plenty are, just makes it easier this way.
sir_agravaiting: A: ...hey, I ain't picky.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *laughs!* I think it's nice to talk to somebody who's so honest. Statespeople are dreadful liars.
sir_agravaiting: A: *roguish grin* Oh, I'm nothing if not honest.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Good! *smiles the smile that makes her seem beautiful*
sir_agravaiting: A: *aand the grin grows, autoleer set to maximum* So, tell me, your majesty. What do queens do for entertainment?
queen_oracle: Mickle: They usually aren't very entertained. Sometimes they have to start wars just to have something to do. *eyebrows*
sir_agravaiting: A: ...well, I'm hardly a court jester--
sir_agravaiting: A: --but.
queen_oracle: Mickle: I hope not.
sir_agravaiting: A: ---but I'm a decent ... entertainer.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Won't you show me?
sir_agravaiting: A: *autoleer on fullll!* *leans closer* Oh, anything y'want - must do, for royalty, mustn't I?
queen_oracle: Mickle: I've heard something like that. *innocence*
sir_agravaiting: A: Especially if it's a royal decree.
queen_oracle: Mickle: And, oh, if I royally ordered you to kiss me?
sir_agravaiting: A: *very, very close now* 'Tis a knight's duty to obey his queen. *leans in, giving her a moment to back away or slap him if she was being a tease--*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *her eyes dance for a moment, as if she will, and then she meets his lips*
sir_agravaiting: A: *grins into the kiss, and, now that she's not calling the royal guards on him or anything, deepens the kiss, slipping one arm around her waist*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *places herself a perfect distance, not too far and not needingly close, and perhaps utterly owns the kiss and perhaps gives it to him*
sir_agravaiting: A: *with his one arm at her waist, tugs at her a bit, trying to bring her closer into him*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *resists fleetingly and then comes, all so gently teasing*
sir_agravaiting: A: *if his mouth were not otherwise occupied, would smirk just here* *--well, frankly, does so anyway*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *breaks off laughing* Oh, you're horrible. *--and then kisses him*
sir_agravaiting: A: *starts to say,* As your maj-- *--but doesn't get very far* *perfectly willing to go on kissing, and his other arm goes to her cheek, very lightly*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *after some time and many kisses:* That's funny, the way you touch.
sir_agravaiting: A: *a bit defensively* What's wrong with it?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Nothing! *with the exclamation mark created by a laugh* It's different. I've never been touched like that before.
sir_agravaiting: A: *runs his fingertip over her cheekbone, trails it onto her lips* Like this?
queen_oracle: Mickle: *smiles* That's right.
sir_agravaiting: A: *and down along her neck* That's a shame. Why not, then?
queen_oracle: Mickle: *catches her breath as she perhaps has never done before* It must be because I'm a Queen. I suppose there's propriety to think of.
sir_agravaiting: A: *makes an easy, shruggish sort of face* Pity. Propriety gets in the way. *and follows a rather more forceful kiss*
queen_oracle: Mickle: It does, doesn't-- *and this time she's the one to get cut off, and why is A. sexing up all my Westmark girls don't answer that it's because I'm a whore, and she kisses back*
sir_agravaiting: A: *then it's because you're a slut, tramp, skank, prostitute, hooker, lady of the night, call girl, etc* *hey, what place are they?*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *ahhhhhhh. also, wow, I have no idea. possibly still outside? we hope Theo is not watching*
sir_agravaiting: A: *snap*
sir_agravaiting: A: *haha, post this as a log in her journal, THAT'LL bring him out more often*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *might do that, since he has been NEGLECTING HER and also never sexes her up like this*
sir_agravaiting: A: *and flirty tomboy queens -need- sex! :D*
sir_agravaiting: A: *this is one of the basic tenets agravain lives by. ahem.*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *hey, Mickle sees her way to living by it, too*
sir_agravaiting: A: *goes back to kissing, idly fiddling with the rope that ties down her shirt*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *smiles at him sweetly, regaining her self-possession, and places her hand in his to occupy it* Forward.
sir_agravaiting: A: *with a rakish half-grin* My middle name.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Very dreadful. You'll have to convince me it's all right.
sir_agravaiting: A: I am a knight, y'majesty, not some diplomat, but --*and he puts his lips just to her ear to whisper,* it's -- all right.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *there's a soft shiver, almost imperceptible, and to someone who prefers to be control perhaps very satisfying* Oh, that's not trying very hard!
sir_agravaiting: A: *laughs, but quietly, which is good as he doesn't draw back to continue,* It's -very- all right?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Wretch.
sir_agravaiting: A: Knight.
queen_oracle: Mickle: Are they all like this?
sir_agravaiting: A: Not nearly enough. *--as his mouth is still in the vicinity of it, nips at her ear*
queen_oracle: Mickle: I'm just lucky? *another tiny gasp--perhaps she's a great deal more innocent than she thinks she is (the only person she's slept with is Theo, for crying out loud, and he is probably not someone well-versed in foreplay)*
sir_agravaiting: A: *---no doubt his idea of foreplay is four people playing tennis.*
sir_agravaiting: A: *or what comes before a theatrical show.*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *or golf*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *so yes; the physical aspect of this marriage is kind of pathetic, and she is astonished to find herself being slightly seduced*
sir_agravaiting: A: *only slightly? then he's not doing his job right* *nips again, then a bit lower to kiss her neck once or twice before saying,* All right yet?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Almost. *she's a tiny bit annoyed; she should not be this easy, and A. doesn't look at all like someone capable of seduction. sadly, she isn't really thinking of Theo*
sir_agravaiting: A: *snerk*
sir_agravaiting: *no, sorry, that was just me. XD*
sir_agravaiting: A: *doesn't push her (he's being gentlemanly! really! look ma, it's a miracle!); instead, he simply kisses her throat once, twice, again and again and another few times for good measure, moving across her neck, her jaw, her cheeks and lips*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *sighs, which somehow manages to express perfectly her catch between intense pleasure and slight frustration, and comes close, slipping her arms around him*
sir_agravaiting: A: *has one arm about her waist - tightly encircling her, little thing that she is, not beggar-thin anymore, but never a big person - and the other caressing her shoulder or cheek, giving a little tug to her ear, or twisting her hair around his fingers*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *no, she's certainly nothing like Zara, small but not unhealthy, and her eyes are old but her face is young, and she presses a practise kiss to his jaw, with enough confidence that it doesn't seem experimental, but only barely*
sir_agravaiting: A: *pulls lightly, teasingly, at her hair, and mumbles something unintelligibly seductive into the hollow of her throat*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *augh--lets out a soft moan and grips his shoulder*
sir_agravaiting: A: *chuckles a bit, low and nearly silent* *has been so much kissing her neck, cheeks, jaw, anything, but now returns to her mouth, more intently than before*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *kisses back, with a certain longing, her other hand at the small of his back*
sir_agravaiting: A: *moans softly, very softly, against her mouth, the hand at her waist working its way - slow and steady - to the rope's knot once again*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *this does she doesn't prevent him; instead runs her hand down his back, kisses him deeply*
sir_agravaiting: A: *score!* *wait, wait, waitwait, no, mustn't seem quite so piggish- yet-* *er, ahem, that is to say, fumbles with the knot, grappling it undone with the one hand while the other stays at the back of her neck, vaguely stroking her hair*
queen_oracle: Mickle: *as soon as he touches her skin, she pauses and attempts to draw back a little; a little breathlessly:* Some Queens do have Kings, of course.
sir_agravaiting: A: *pauses a moment, there, his hand stilling against the small of her back* ---yes--
queen_oracle: Mickle: I suppose that doesn't matter to knights? *a slightly quizzical look, a little mocking, as she recovers herself again*
sir_agravaiting: A: *gives a short, barkish sort of laugh* Oh, nay, our first duty is to our lord. Hast thou a king, then?
queen_oracle: Mickle: Not that I've noticed lately.
sir_agravaiting: A: *gives her a quizzical look* Can't be both or neither, majesty.
queen_oracle: Mickle: *with a smile* Yes, a wretched, neglectful King who never comes to see me any more. It's very tragic.
sir_agravaiting: A: *shrugs* Not my king, is he?
queen_oracle: Mickle: No, he isn't. *leans forward and kisses his mouth* All the same, I think I'd better be good.
sir_agravaiting: A: *grimaces* That's not a royal decree, is it?
queen_oracle: Mickle: *laughs, and it makes her seem ridiculously wonderful; it's one of her strong laughs, the kind that made people follow her into war* It might be.
sir_agravaiting: A: *sighs, and kisses her again, but rather more quickly, this time* Make up y'mind, then, girl.
queen_oracle: Mickle: I'm awfully sorry, of course, but I shall have to say no.
sir_agravaiting: A: *wrinkles his nose* If y'insist.
queen_oracle: Mickle: To-day. I hope you're not too disappointed.
sir_agravaiting: A: Well, no, there's always Zara. No, no, go to your king and tell him to stop neglecting you. *moves away from her*
queen_oracle: Mickle: He probably won't change, but of course it's only right to ask. *curtsies with her shirt*
sir_agravaiting: A: *gives an almost mockingly deep bow* Right, right. 's the queenly thing t'do.
queen_oracle: Mickle: It is. *and she flashes him a smile, half-apologetic, and half-triumphant*
(LJ-ify your IMs before pasting!)