bakerstreet | the Uncommon Muse meme

the Uncommon Muse meme

The {Uncommon Muse} Meme

YOU CAN POST HERE IF:

Your character is from a small fandom
You haven't seen many other muses from your fandom on dreamwidth/bakerstreet
Your character has a small part in a large fandom or isn't seen being roleplayed much. (for example: Buffy Summers is considered a major character in a major fandom, but Harmony, Jenny Calendar or Glory would be okay)

YOU CAN REPLY HERE IF:

You see a muse you'd be interested in playing with! Anyone is able to reply unless the thread starter specifically mentions that they want to play with other uncommon muses. (for example: Tony Stark may not start a thread, but may reply to one started by Jenny Calendar)

GENERAL PROMPTS

01. Hurt/Comfort
02. Reunited
03. Action/Fighting
04. Confessing Secrets
05. New Job/School/Etc
06. Jealousy
07. Final Moments
08. Slow Dance
09. Letters/Texting
10. Holidays
11. Facing Fears
12. Road Trip
13. Harsh Weather
14. Wildcard

ROMANTIC PROMPTS

01. Flirting/Seduction
02. Waking Up Together
03. Getting Married
04. Public Sex
05. Bondage
06. Dirty Talk
07. Rough/Aggressive
08. Toys
09. Making Up/Saying Sorry
10. Dubcon
11. Non-penetrative
12. Roleplay
13. First Time
14. Wildcard

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

OOC: I don't recommend sexy things unless you're a SaDiablo or your name is Jaenelle Angelline. Just saying. <.< That said, COME AT ME!

It was far too early. Ellessa rolled over beneath her covers, tempted to bury her head 'neath the mount of pillows. But the insistent tapping at the door continued; she knew Clarista wouldn't dare enter without an invitation.

So, the young Healer-to-be yawned, half-opened one eye, squeezed it closed again, and flopped an arm atop the down filled comforter. "Daemon...?" she called out lazily, "be a dear and open the door, would you?"

He'd never liked being worked simply because the bitches told him to. He probably never would. But since his one job was to be Ellessa's escort and bodyguard, that meant bedside vigils, and he napped when he could.

At least he'd already been down to the kitchen and had breakfast with the cook.

He didn't answer. He simply rose silently and crossed the room to open the door, resisting the urge to snarl at Clarista's smile. She could be as happy as she wanted before dawn, as long as it came with coffee as black as his Jewels for him and that happiness wasn't directed at him. And since the maid was an intelligent woman who wore the Tiger's Eye, she hovered his coffee to him before progressing into the room to deliver breakfast on its tray to the Lady.

"Good morning, Clarista," he murmured after that first mouthful of joyfully bitter drink.

At least something in his life was going the right direction.

The maid didn't dawdle; she thankfully had duties elsewhere, and bustled further into the suite to tend to her chores, but not before giving her lady's watchman a polite curtsy, as was proper. In her bedroom, Ellessa opened one eye again at the scent of coffee and tea, as well as the heavenly aroma of warm spiced bread and freshly churned butter.

And damn that Clarista, Elle thought with a mulish frown as she watched the girl put the tray on the other side of the room with that benign smile--she knew her lady would have to get up to fetch anything from it. It was a bloody conspiracy, that's what it was.

"Good morning, Lady Ellessa," the girl chirped brightly, heading immediately to the wardrobe after depositing the breakfast tray. "It seems to be a blustery day today, so I'll fetch your long sleeves, shall I?"

Ella didn't bother contradicting her; all coherent thought could wait until after she'd guzzled a few cups of sweetly astringent tea. Finally crawling from her bed and padding barefoot to the blasted table way over there, she did just that, refilling the cup immediately and filching one of the slices of still-warm bread.

"Thank you, Clara," she murmured absently, sliding into one of the chairs situated at the small table. After laying out clothing, Clara pulled back the curtains to reveal dark clouds indeed massing on the ocean's horizon; it seemed the isle was in for a merry storm, yes.

Never one to care much for the changes in the weather, since there wasn't much time that he had for himself alone, Daemon simply looked out the window, although he wasn't certain that he was seeing the beach to which they were so close. Tacea wasn't a large island, and it only took a couple of hours to walk from one shore to the other, after all.

Even so, he returned his attention to his charge and blinked slowly. He wore a bored expression because it hid his frustration; he hadn't heard from Lucivar in far too long, and he was starting to worry, but he couldn't get enough time to himself to look into a tangled web, or to meditate his way into a vision, or even to go check on his brother. Damn the gutter whore who wore the secondary controlling ring for the Ring of Obedience!

The room chilled, just slightly, but he quickly leashed his temper once more. He'd hear from the Prick soon enough, one way or another.

"I'm going to assume that you have plans of going out in this weather," he said blandly. "And I'm going to assume that any argument to the contrary that I present will be ignored. Am I right?" Not that he cared, but confirming his beliefs rarely did him any harm.

Ellessa paused, an eyebrow quirking at the sudden, if slight, decrease in temperature and she flicked her gaze to her bodyguard slash keeper slash babysitter slash escort slash grouchy-miserable-slave-with-issues. He'd been under her hand for less than a fortnight and Ellessa had already witnessed a tantrum or two, and been silently impressed. But this was her home, and be damned if she wilt before a slave's petulance and pique. And, to her credit, she was skillfully picking up on the little things to divert Daemon's attention from his brooding, even forcing him to interact with other sentient things in the vicinity.

Which was why she simply smiled demurely and said, "More coffee, Daemon?" She didn't care for it, but upon learning he preferred it over tea, she'd added a carafe to her morning tray. "And there's spice bread, if you've not eaten yet." She uncovered the butter crock, dipping a small silver serving knife into the golden spread. "And fresh butter, too."

Slathering a slice of bread with butter, she glanced out of the window and, taking a small bite, shrugged lightly. "Only to the stables," she replied after swallowing. "Uraeus will pout if I don't bring him something, you know how he gets." The large horse was coddled indeed, but always presented himself nicely to his lady because she brought him sweets. The stallion wasn't stupid, after all. "Then I thought we might spend the day in the library. Play a game or two of chess, perhaps. With this weather, I doubt we'll have lessons today." Thank the Night for that.

Daemon didn't throw tantrums. He was a Warlord Prince, damn it, and that meant his temper was more easily provoked than anyone else's. It wasn't his fault that he belonged to a caste which was violently passionate and passionately violent.

With only a slightly raised brow, he held out his coffee mug for a refill and relaxed into his chair. "I ate in the kitchen already, under Cook's careful supervision." Oh, yes, his belly was full. That didn't mean his morning temper was any further from the surface, of course. But he would indulge the Lady, taking bread and butter for himself. A Red shield around his clothes would keep his perfectly-tailored black suit from being assaulted by breadcrumbs, and then he could chew. Slowly.

"I'm almost certain that you care more about the horse than you do about your own health, you know. He'll survive a day without a brick of salt to lick." Not that Daemon was opposed to horses or even to riding, but in the weather he could feel coming, it would be a nightmare just to cross the estate to the stables. "And if you think Lefthian will let you out of lessons just because of the weather, I think you need a proper introduction to Eyriens." Or, perhaps, just one of them.

She'd never question an Eyrien's dedication to instruction again if she met Lucivar.

Elle leaned back in her chair and delicately sipped her tea. "Considering the fact that Mother sent Lefthian and his mate to the mainland yesterday afternoon and it's highly doubtful they'll return before the storm passes, I'd say it's a good bet the weather will have a say in studies, Daemon," she replied evenly, setting down her teacup. Sometimes, she really wanted to smack him. Just...one good slap across that perfect face, simply because. However, Ellessa Venne Zallenda was better than such a crude display--at least, when in view of her Mother's honored Court. And now, now that she was saddled with a new escort since poor Vagarin abandoned her--damn the man for getting himself killed in that stupid boat race!--she felt scrutinized all the blasted time.

It was intolerable, sometimes.

But, she was determined not to let him ruffle her, regardless of his idiosyncrasies. She didn't know what her Mother had brokered to gain this specific specimen, nor did she dare ask. Not that Aelan wouldn't tell her, of course, but Elle simply felt it was better to keep her nose out of Queenly politics. For now, at least. Coming back to the subject at hand, she gave the window a cursory glance, then rose from the table and headed for the wardrobe, where waited her clothing for the day.

Over her shoulder, she added, "You may stay indoors if you wish." A delicate snort. "I seriously doubt I'll encounter that much trouble simply crossing the yard."

He shrugged nonchalantly, working to hide his annoyance that he actually would be forced to tolerate her for extra time that he could be using for other things. Damn, and damn again. Mother Night, this child was a handful. He was right to scrutinize, right to silently challenge her to do her worst because his worst was so much worse. He didn't fear her.

"I'll make a deal with you, then. I am at your disposal for the next three hours -- on the condition that I then have three hours to myself." He wasn't telling her why. He didn't need to. It wasn't her business. "Is that fair?" Not that he expected her to even know the definition of fair.

Either way, a morning ride on the Demon Prince himself might do him some good. Descending to the depths of the Black when vibrating with as much negative emotion as he was could easily lead to him overshooting, tearing through the web of his inner Self, and breaking himself back to basic Craft. He'd seen it happen to others before and didn't expect to be any exception just because his Jewels were darker.

Ellessa turned from gathering up her clothing, blinking before she answered, an eyebrow lifting slightly. "Why make a deal at all?" She glanced up as two other servants padded nearly silently into the chamber--ah, right on time. They joined her behind the dressing screen, tossing discarded clothing over its top while they helped finagle her into the day's raiment.

"If you desire something, Daemon, then simply speak about it." She didn't know how things were done where he'd come from--although judging from the stories she'd heard, Elle had a pretty good idea that horrific didn't really cover it--this was Tacea, and Protocol was still held in high regard in Queen Aelan's Court.

She couldn't stifle a squeak when Rhoda yanked the laces of her dress, nearly stumbling with the force applied. By the Stars, she loathed corsets! But finally the chore was done and she stepped out from behind the screen, clad in rich, flowing silks of royal hues, as befitting a woman of her station. Her ladies tried to sit her down to arrange her long dark hair into some semblance for formal, but Ellessa shooed them away; she would just leave it loose.

Turning back to her escort, she favored him with a small smile--it was always nice to confuse him--and said, "You may take as long as you like; I doubt you'll find much entertainment in toddling about after me today, what with this storm incoming."

Without missing a beat, Daemon snorted and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. "I already have: I need three hours. That's all I'm asking."

He raised an eyebrow when she stepped out in such rich clothing. They looked like they'd come straight from Dharo, though he was sure they weren't. Regardless, that dress was far from being appropriate riding wear, but then, she was a witch from Terreille; females in Terreille wore 'casual' clothes which were only slightly lower quality than their formal wear. It was disgusting and indulgent, and he hated it.

"I'd recommend proper riding attire," he said calmly before striding into the adjoining bathroom. He only needed a couple of minutes to change into breeches and a loose, flowing shirt. Boots completed the change, and then he stepped back out.

Much better.

"As would I," Elle answered promptly, clasping a few silver chains around her wrists, "if I were actually riding." Done with her jewelry, she turned in a flare of skirt and plunked down atop the trunk located at the foot of her bed to pull on her boots.

"You're welcome to do so, of course, but I'm simply planning on visiting Uraeus, not taking him out in this heavy weather. It's just as satisfying being with him as it is actually galloping down the beaches." Brushing his long mane and tail, grooming his pristine white coat, simply resting her cheek against his silky hide--this she enjoyed just as much as flying atop the animal's broad back.

Finally done dressing, she rose and breezed for the door, saying over her shoulder, "Take as long as you need, I've no objections." Then she was out the door, loose locks and skirts flowing after her quick steps; she even hummed a bit under her breath.

He'd not thank her for the concession. He wouldn't comment further on it at all, even; instead, he simply followed her out, never bothering to shield himself in protection from the oncoming storm. It would rain, and it would hurt while he rode, but it would be a purifying sort of pain. It would be his proclamation to the Darkness that, whatever pain may come, where ever She was, he would wait for Witch. And he would revel in her glory when she came.

They parted ways within the stable; Elle went one direction down toward Uraeus' stall, while Daemon turned the opposite direction toward Black Prince's. The horse was already saddled and waiting for him, as he'd warned the stable hands that he was coming and would be taking the Prince out. Sometimes, psychic communication was simply convenient.

A few moments of easing the stallion into accepting his presence once more, into being at ease with his dark psychic scent, and then Daemon led him out, mounted, and they were off into the field.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he brought the horse out, but they were both sweating bullets and panting. It had been a hard ride, and he'd managed to connect with the horse in a way that he never could before. It was almost like a brush of minds, but that just wasn't possible, so he dismissed it, dismounted, and set the stallion up to be comfortable for the rest of the day. Then he headed back inside, all while asking on a psychic thread after his charge.

*Lady, is there anything you need?*

A sense of drowsy comfort drifted back, almost lethargically peaceful. Ellessa was situated in a nest of fragrant hay in Uraeus's stall, the large stallion lying behind her while she rested between his hooves, leaning against his glossy white hide. Two of the new barn kittens were cuddled in her lap, mewing as they nestled under her hands. The warmth of the stable, the all around good aura of the animals made for quite the emotional blotter indeed; it was little wonder Ellessa, at least, often stole away from "duty" to bask in the peace provided.

The storm lashed all around, but Elle took scarce note of it. She was comfortable, warm and content. Far more preferable than sitting in that stuffy library all the day long, learning things she instinctively already knew, but had to prove. How did one explain the mechanics of breathing? One simply breathed. Sometimes, she wished she could just grab Lefthian by the face and shove all the answers into her brain; Darkness knew it'd save them all a lot of time and trouble.

She vented a sigh, picked up one of the kittens to press against her cheek, she answered back in kind, somewhat drowsily, No, thank you, Daemon. I'm quite fine. Then, a moment later, Did you enjoy your ride?

The contentment that drifted back along the spear thread was almost like the lazy sleepiness that accompanied the cold rage of a Warlord Prince at the killing edge. The only indicator of the difference was, well, the lack of coldness. He was, on some level, at peace.

It was a good ride. Might want to check on the Black Prince just to make sure I haven't destroyed him entirely. He was sure he hadn't, but a Healer checking on the poor creature would probably be more effective than just him doing it. I'll be at the altar for a while. Remember the safe call, if something goes wrong?

Not that it would, but it was good practice, anyway. If something happened while he was trying to reach his brother, well, there would be serious repercussions for the offender in that case.

He quickly changed out of his riding clothes, slipped into a pair of striped night pants, and disappeared to the altar so that he could contact his brother.

It was three hours before he reemerged, both at ease and somewhat tense; Lucivar was hurting, but he was giving the Ladies hell while he was at it. He'd given what support he could. At least he wasn't in the salt mines in Pruul. Stepping outside under the covered porch, Daemon lit a black cigarette and took a seat in a chair.

You're welcome to join me, Lady, he called calmly.

I shall. I'm sure he's quite fine--Bothar is an excellent stablemaster. But I'll bring him an apple before I return to the House. Her mental voice faded, leaving him to whatever business he'd previously mentioned. She returned to her comfortable state of mind, soaking up the calm energy of her horse and the kittens, remaining thus for quite a while, until regretfully, she took her leave, depositing the kittens back in their nest within the harness room.

True to her word, she looked in on Daemon's horse; the poor creature was actually napping. Judging from the saddle marks on the beast's silky hide, the outing had been strenuous indeed. She gave orders for the horse to be bathed and groomed after he'd awoken, and left several cubes of sugar in the animal's trough for later. Upon her return to the House, she heard her mother's familiar call and veered from her current course to answer the herald.

Both her mother and father were seated in the solarium, which was lit not by sunlight, but by several strategically placed candelabras. They'd been speaking when she entered, but broke off and smiled in greeting, her father rising respectfully to his feet with a cordial nod. Elle favored him with a kiss to his grizzled cheek and he returned her affection with a warm embrace. To her matron, Ellessa curtsied formally, then administered the same, receiving her mother's kiss with alacrity.

"How fare you today, pet?" Aelan asked after Ellessa was seated and Richeter returned to his former recline. Elle answered positively and the three exchanged a few cordial pleasantries before Aelan asked in a more serious tone, "And your Escort? How is he settling in?"

Elle sat back in her chair, resisting the urge to rub the bridge of her nose. "...somewhat well, I'm pleased to say," she answered truthfully. "He's very...brusque, I've discovered, and has the most peculiar set of moods I've ever encountered." She expected her mother to chuckle, but Aelan's expression remained somber.

"He prefers coffee over tea," Elle went on, not really knowing how to explain. "Enjoys riding--has a passion for it, I daresay, but I've yet to see him express even the slightest semblance of a smile. He's very...cold, also. The servants are all terrified of him, poor things, but they've both been perfectly cordial thus far."

Aelan nodded, as if she'd expected this. "'tis unsurprising, given Dorothea's tales of this particular individual." Catching her husband's slightly disapproving frown, the Queen said, "She is in no danger, Richter, worry not. I've little doubt Ellessa is more than capable to handle such a temperament." This surprised Ellessa herself, who looked at her mother with a mix of crogglement and pleased surprise.

Turning back to her daughter, Aelan went on, "I leave him to you then, dear. I believe you both will learn much from each other." Although she had no idea why her mother had "gifted" her with this particular watchman, Elle thought it prudent not to inquire and simply take her Queen's word on faith. Aelan doubtless had some agenda planned for Daemon Sadi, and one of the tools to that end was her youngest child. So be it.

Conversation turned to less serious topics, until Ellessa excused herself and headed back downstairs, hearing the by-now familiar whisper of her personal valet. Although she thought it might be horribly awkward to rejoin him just now, given the discussion abovestairs, Elle thought she could do with a gulp or two of fresh air, so she replied, It'd be my pleasure, Daemon. I'll be there in just a moment.

She skipped down the stairwell and opened the balcony doors, stepping out onto the covered veranda, giving her companion a polite nod. The storm was still in full sway, but the porch was well shielded from the brunt of its fury.

"Hail, Prince. I trust our mood is a bit more amicable, now?"

With a snort, Daemon leaned his head back against the chair's headrest. "Somewhat. Good news comes with bad. Everything has a price."

What more could he tell her, really? So instead of contemplating it, he offered her a cigarette with one hand, snapping tongue of witchfire into existence for her to light it, just in case she actually wanted it. He couldn't yet tell with her.

"I'm assuming that you feel better, too, and that both of the horses are feeling well enough to be left alone right now." Both Warlord Princes, even. He could feel it, but he'd say nothing; he didn't dare risk a slaughter.

Ellessa shook her head, declining the offer. Both her father and brother smoked, but she'd never cared for it. Instead, she placed a hand to one of the marble supports and the other on the balustrade, gazing out over the grounds. Yet she couldn't resist an impish grin over her shoulder, replying, "I was never out of sorts, thank you. But indeed, both Uraeus and the Prince are well coddled; your poor lad was all asnooze when I looked in on him." One of her eyebrows quirked. "It must have been quite an exciting ride."

He laughed, vanishing the cigarette and letting the witchfire go. "You're more balanced now. I know it, and so do you. It's fine to admit it, Lady."

As for his ride, Daemon simply tilted his head. "You've never taken a ride that was cathartic for both horse and rider? Never ridden so hard that your legs were jelly when you dismounted, and you weren't quite sure where you ended and the horse began?" Maybe he just knew how to connect.

She nodded, acquiescing the point. "Perhaps. There are times when I prefer the company of animals to humans, be they Blood or no." Animals had no hidden agendas, no secrets, no politics, ugh. Her brow quirked again at his query; she tossed her head lightly.

"Of course I have. Uraeus and I feel thus all the time." Indeed, there were days when she didn't even bother with saddle or bridle; simply guided the big horse by voice and hands alone. An amazing connection, indeed; but there was a certain...violence that was absent in her experiences. For the better, she decided, looking at him a touch intently.

"Daemon," she said then, a bit tartly, "I do have a name, you know. And amazingly, it's not even difficult to pronounce. Might you use it instead of that 'Lady' you tack onto your comments?" She snorted, huffily. "Sometimes it sounds as if you're calling a puppy, I swear."

His smile was gentle, but not dangerously so. His expression was almost tender as he thought back to those moments when he could have sworn that there was a psychic link between himself and Black Prince. "It's not something I frequently indulge." It wasn't safe to indulge that very often.

As for her request, he simply shrugged. "I call you by your title, as is befitting the Lady wearing the controlling ring." Okay, if she were using it, he'd be calling her 'bitch' rather than Lady, but that wasn't the point.

"If the show fits, I suppose," he said dryly.

To see such an expression on Daemon's face was--heartening, Ellessa decided. Perhaps her mother's wisdom would prove true yet again. Elle knew the Queen had the uncanniest way of looking within to see what not even the most skilled Black Widow could not. A knack, Daveth called it.

Nevertheless. "It doesn't," she drolled flatly. "Would you rather me call you slave, then? Say my name, Daemon. Say 'Ellessa'. I daresay you won't even bite your tongue, either."

He laughed, a warm, velvety sound. It was a laugh that he'd practiced and cultivated until the tendrils of seduction weaved themselves through the sound without conscious thought anymore.

"As you wish," he paused so that he could raise his yellow gaze to her own, a smile curving his lips in a way that was just this side of predatory. "Ellessa."

Oh, the Queen had warned her youngest daughter about this particular prince. Queen Aelan knew well why Dorothea favored him above all in her stable, and that was partly why Aelan had chosen Ellessa to keep him, instead of her eldest daughter, Elonwyn. Elonwyn, while a Priestess wearing Green, was not quite staunch enough to handle such an escort. Ellessa, however, had been stubborn since birth, and even during childhood had displayed such willpower to daunt even her most acerbic teachers, her siblings, even her father and uncle at times.

Proven now by the lowering of her eyebrows, lips tightening just so and blue eyes darkening to rival the storm clouds just behind her. She didn't need to issue a verbal reprimand; the bastard knew. He knew. Regardless, she acquiesced his compliance with a short nod. "Thank you. If you please, endeavor to use it from now on."

Well, that was almost no fun at all. Fine, then; they could play this game, and he'd let her have this dance. He had no desire to bed her, but when a mature woman didn't fall for the illusory sounds and psychic spells, well, he almost took it personally. It made it a game, and a vicious one indeed.

"And if I don't please, what am I to do then?"

It was a fair question, damn it.

the Uncommon Muse meme

Daemon Sadi || The Black Jewels || OTA

I was told to do this, so.

I'll survive. Somehow. :P

i am blameless. absolutely.

Uh-huh. Suuuuure.

i'm DOING this for YOU, note.

:p

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