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noicemagazine2017-01-19 10:27 pm
mossbuds) wrote in noicemagazine2017-01-19 10:27 pm
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Varethiel is a well known member of her city. She's altruistic and quite wealthy; a cause to her community, who has donated countless gold pieces to countless charities. She's known for her socially well adjusted, well mannered and even kilter, as well as her beauty, repudiated for the latest fashions, always decorated lavishly in the most expensive jewels and rare metals.
Well adored, she's never been short of suitors—especially with a particular facet of her reputation. She's well known for being a generous, commanding lover, as is sometimes typical of her specific ilk. But despite the rather sexually open nature of her people, Varethiel remains polite, but aloof to her admirers, only driving their desire for her to grow deeper. People swear up and down on the luck of her husband, and many curse him—not only for envy, but disdain. Varethiel, while very loved by her city, isn't a working woman; she's beautiful, like people who have never worked a day in their life are beautiful.
Indeed, her husband is in part the reason why she has all the latest and the best. Never without the finest meals, company, clothes, jewels—anything she desires, to compensate for his frequent, long absenses for his work. She's often lonely, and people gossip about it—they yearn for her attention, but they all know that she is not a woman who can be courted. She and her husband have an arrangement so that they may engage other people outside of their marriage, and do so happily and without complication. However, it's always she who does the picking—she cannot be impressed by masculine wiles.
She has a reputation for having an eye for younger things. Which, of course, as a mermaid, could mean just about any human. But youthful in appearance, and ideally of her kin physically. She's so distant and disengaged, downtrodden when her husband leaves her, that it's remarkable to think she's a woman with desire at all. Even when she ovulates, as she is now, she remains passive if her fancy does not strike her.
But when inspiration strikes her, it's very clear. Her eyes, their pupils slit like those of a predator, fix on a young man she doesn't recognize; he has beautiful, bronze skin. Someone from the carnival that's blown through, recently. She's been hearing so much about them, and she absolutely has been vying to interact with some of these people. Not intimately, necessarily—until now. She's immediately fixated.
He's sort of shy, she can see—she can practically feel his demeanor, anxious and out of place in the crowd. Smiling coolly, she dents her full lower lip with the golden claw cuff she wears. Varethiel straightens her tail, the bands of golden jewelry around the coil of her tail softly catching the light. Her hair lifts as a golden cloud as she rises, and she swims towards her target.
Not wishing to startle him, having an idea of his character, she approaches him from his peripheral. Along the side, but not directly in front of him; that could seem too aggressive.
"Excuse me," she says, her voice silky a tone that's almost androgynous. "Are you lost, little foal?"
Well adored, she's never been short of suitors—especially with a particular facet of her reputation. She's well known for being a generous, commanding lover, as is sometimes typical of her specific ilk. But despite the rather sexually open nature of her people, Varethiel remains polite, but aloof to her admirers, only driving their desire for her to grow deeper. People swear up and down on the luck of her husband, and many curse him—not only for envy, but disdain. Varethiel, while very loved by her city, isn't a working woman; she's beautiful, like people who have never worked a day in their life are beautiful.
Indeed, her husband is in part the reason why she has all the latest and the best. Never without the finest meals, company, clothes, jewels—anything she desires, to compensate for his frequent, long absenses for his work. She's often lonely, and people gossip about it—they yearn for her attention, but they all know that she is not a woman who can be courted. She and her husband have an arrangement so that they may engage other people outside of their marriage, and do so happily and without complication. However, it's always she who does the picking—she cannot be impressed by masculine wiles.
She has a reputation for having an eye for younger things. Which, of course, as a mermaid, could mean just about any human. But youthful in appearance, and ideally of her kin physically. She's so distant and disengaged, downtrodden when her husband leaves her, that it's remarkable to think she's a woman with desire at all. Even when she ovulates, as she is now, she remains passive if her fancy does not strike her.
But when inspiration strikes her, it's very clear. Her eyes, their pupils slit like those of a predator, fix on a young man she doesn't recognize; he has beautiful, bronze skin. Someone from the carnival that's blown through, recently. She's been hearing so much about them, and she absolutely has been vying to interact with some of these people. Not intimately, necessarily—until now. She's immediately fixated.
He's sort of shy, she can see—she can practically feel his demeanor, anxious and out of place in the crowd. Smiling coolly, she dents her full lower lip with the golden claw cuff she wears. Varethiel straightens her tail, the bands of golden jewelry around the coil of her tail softly catching the light. Her hair lifts as a golden cloud as she rises, and she swims towards her target.
Not wishing to startle him, having an idea of his character, she approaches him from his peripheral. Along the side, but not directly in front of him; that could seem too aggressive.
"Excuse me," she says, her voice silky a tone that's almost androgynous. "Are you lost, little foal?"