Fight Club

[Kumako Shock]

Characters: Ivan and Zahra
Prompt: Serge has deemed Zahra unable to protect herself due to her performance in self defense class and has assigned Ivan to teach her how to fight.  

[Rob-n-h00d]

Layout by: CELESTIAL SENTINEL

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


Ivan stood in a separate room with his uncle. They stared through the double-sided glass, watching their fellow students slowly work their way out of class, their faces etched with exhaustion. Some were on their way to the nurse, while others desperately required a shower. He could feel Serge's palpable disappointment in their performance. Very few were able to reach the bar Serge had set for his soldiers back home.
"They're the saddest bunch I've ever met. A spineless, pale, pathetic lot - Barely half of them have a clue on how to execute the proper maneuvers, and the half that does are sloppy at best." Disgust radiated from him as he spat on the floor, a woman in the corner jumping into action to clean it.

Ivan stood at attention, posture straight, shoulders squared with hands clasped tightly behind his back, awaiting instruction. He wasn't sure why his uncle had called him into the cramped side room, confident the man had better things to do than gripe about royals. But Ivan knew better than to question his uncle. He listened to him rant, the friendly, protective facade the warlord portrayed to the class cracking within the comfort of his nephew's presence. Ivan kept his gaze forward, empty eyes peering through the glass, catching on a blond girl who stood alone in the center, picking at her nails. She was a striking figure, wearing a pale blue top, cropped to expose the soft skin of her mid-drift, her pants sinching on the apex of her hips and flowing down in a waterfall of loose fabric. He wondered why she wasn't moving on with the others in the class, eyes flicking to the lazy lover he had seen attached to her hip most times.

"Good, you noticed her." Serge's voice shattered his thoughts, pulling Ivans's attention from the emptying mats below. "I've requested Zahra stay behind. Her performance today was dreadful, so I am tasking you with her training." Ivan groaned, rolling his head back and lifting his hand to rub his temples in frustration. He didn't think that when he agreed to come to this school, he would be tasked with training bunnies to fight properly. Wasn't that his uncle's purpose? Something hard connected with his side, sending Ivan stumbling until he forced his feet back under him, curling into a defensive position.
"Don't be giving me lip, boy. Serge spat through clenched teeth. His fists curled up by his face as he stepped forward, jabbing his right fist to force Ivan into a dip to avoid the assault. Ivan recognized the movement and shifted his head back, narrowly avoiding a surprise uppercut. He stepped back, putting some distance between them. Serge straightened, nodding as he reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of tape and toss it to Ivan. " I have plans in motion, boy, and I'll need you to gain her trust while you train her."

Ivan caught the tape, icy rage turning his knuckles white as his hand dropped back to his side. His grip preventing him from applying pressure to the pain that radiated up the still-healing stab wound on his side. He followed Serge out of the room and down the stairs, Zahra's attention shooting up to lock on the approaching duo. Serge offered his hand, grasping her fingers to bring them to his lips.
"My lady Zahra, this is Jack. He is going to be your training partner from here on out." Serge explained, letting her hand fall back into place as his hand swooped to Ivan. "With today's demonstration, I can see you need far more attention than some of the other students. So, every day after class, I expect you two to diligently train for at least one hour until I see the necessary changes. Jack is one of my best pupils; I believe he will be a great instructor." Ivan's eyes stayed cold and dead, staring through Zahra and into the shadows beyond her. Serge didn't offer any more insight; instead, turning to usher the remaining students out of the room. The door slammed closed behind Serge, echoing through the ample space they were now alone in. Ivan pushed an uninterested sigh through his nose.

"Show me your defensive stance." He demanded, his words cold and short. As she moved into position, Ivan peeled off his top, not caring that he exposed the harsh bruising trailing his abdomen. If she were smart, she would aim for it while sparing. He began wrapping his bruised knuckles in tape, ready to train the girl like he had been in Hyouden. Humans are simple creatures who learn best from pain.

He expected her to have gathered enough information from the class today to fall directly into the average protective stance, but when his eyes dropped to her, he realized just how tiresome this task would be. She had no clue; her shoulders were too high, legs too close together. He would be able to knock her over with a substantial breath... Her closed fists circled her thumb, asking for them to be broken. Ivan's head pitched to the side, his frown deepening. "Zat is wrong." He spoke, disappointment curling in his tone as he circled Zahra to stand behind her. His hand pressed into her right shoulder, quickly pushing her off balance. She fumbled to catch herself, Ivan's cold hand hooking her exposed waist to pull her upright. He stepped into her, his bare chest pressing into her back as he grabbed her wrists, yanking her hands into the correct position to protect her delicate features. Her skin was hot against his, a warmth he oddly enjoyed. His hands worked their way up to her fingers, forcing her thumbs out to curl over the top of her fingers. His head dipped down, issuing a dry warning. "If you don't vant broken thumbs, keep them out." His hands fell back to her waist, curling over her hips as his leg pushed between her thighs, forcing them further out as he crouched down with her, forcing the correct stance for optimal balance.

He pulled back, circling her to ensure everything looked right before nodding at his handy work. Now, it's time to see it in action. He fell into the same stance in front of her. "Now, Dodge." The exact second the word fell from his mouth, his right fist shot forward, aiming for her stomach with half his strength behind the swing. He was following the same maneuvers displayed by Serge at the beginning of class. Right swing, Left uppercut, Bock, Repeat—a simple maneuver.



OOC: Duh Duh Dahhhhhhh

♛ Location: Sparing room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: Do better little girl.
xxx ♛ Vestment: Not wearing much LOL
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

Being called to stay after class was not something Zahra expected. Yes, it was a fighting class. Which was something she didn't know how to do. It wasn't something important for her to be taught, really. Which now was just something frustrating. Even Jamal of all people had enough residual knowledge from their childhood not to get called to stay behind. Something she wasn't particularly willing to admit she was bitter about. Not when she'd had to shoo him out the door like a child since he hadn't been told to stay behind the way she had been.

Unfortunately that meant she was alone for now, not sure what to do with herself while she waited for the self defense teacher to return. Absently, her fingers folded together and she played with her nails trying to get at least some of the nervous energy out somehow. The fact that she had just been left to stand in the middle of the room on her own had her skin humming with anxious energy.

Was being called to stay after class like this normal? Zahra couldn't possibly know. She'd never been educated before coming to Utopia. Maybe that was something to be thankful for, if this is what it was like. Dread was dripping into her belly and pooling there, getting heavier and heavier by the minute.

Foot steps sounding on the stairs leading from what she assumed was Instructor Serge's office snapped Zahra's head up, watching the teacher descend with a white haired student in tow. Was he also about to be subjected to whatever insane torture she was currently being subjected to? Before she had time to think, her hand was in Instructor Serge's and he was brushing his lips over her knuckles. It took everything in her not to let the shiver of disgust roll down her spine as he did so. This man reminded her of her father. She would not turn out like her mother.

"My lady Zahra, this is Jack. He is going to be your training partner from here on out." If the color hadn't already drained from her face, she was sure it did now. Despite all her mental blustering about Jamal being a better fighter, what use did she have learning the craft? Surely he was aware of what her powers were! Or, at least her healing. Instructor Serge must have known she was a medic and not a fighter. Why would he put all this extra focus into teaching her? Zahra's eyes flicked over to Jack, curious of what he thought of this very stupid exercise in futility. But he seemed distant, like he didn't truly care or seem to understand how ridiculous it was to pit a man more than a foot taller than her against her as 'training'. "With today's demonstration, I can see you need far more attention than some of the other students. So, every day after class, I expect you two to diligently train for at least one hour until I see the necessary changes. Jack is one of my best pupils; I believe he will be a great instructor." Before she could muster a reply Instructor Serge was gone, taking the few lingering students out with him with an echoing slam to the doors. Zahra turned to Jack, recognizing there was no use trying to fight this.

"Th-" She'd been about to thank him for putting in the extra time when she was sure he was busy, but Jack pushed air through his nose like he wasn't being paid enough for this and barked out a demand of his own. "Show me your defensive stance." Narrowing her eyes, Zahra let out a frustrated huff of her own. He didn't deserve her thanks anyway. As she attempted to mimic the stances she had seen in class, he peeled his shirt off and her eyes went wide. Several blooming bruises trailed up his - very stupidly chiseled - stomach, but what gave her more pause was the very clear stab wound that just as clearly wasn't healed.

Heat pooled in her fingertips at the sight. This Jack fellow might have been some stupid meathead who was treating her like an idiot, but he couldn't have been very comfortable either. Maybe that was some explanation for his mood. Or maybe she wanted to believe the best in him even if there was no good in him. Zahra couldn't be certain, but she did know she wanted to heal him. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that revelation.

"Zat is wrong."

Actually, never mind. ******** him.

"I've never fo-" He cut her off by shoving her forward and catching her at the waist all in one fluid movement. The nerve behind Zahra's temple pulsed, knowing that the furrow her brow had taken would give her a headache later. She barely registered the cold radiating off of his body as he pressed against her and started yanking her around like a rag doll. Was this man so ill mannered he would cut her off at every given turn? Did he think it was fine to manhandle a woman like this? At the very least he was clearly ill mannered enough that he felt comfortable pressing his abs into her back and dipping his head to her ear, whispering into her ear like this wasn't a self defense lesson and Jack was her lover.

It was made even more frustrating by the fact that she couldn't deny that he was attractive. If this was any other situation she would be melting into him, spurred on by the deep rumble of his voice in her ear. "If you don't vant broken thumbs, keep them out." It was deeply unfortunate that he didn't seem to have a romantic bone in his body, instead dryly giving her pointers to correct her stance as his cold fingers gripped her hips. She couldn't decide if the heat that curled in her was attraction or rage as Jack's leg forced its way between hers, widening her stance. Zahra's eyes had widened as well, contemplating whirling and slapping him for this very clearly inappropriate behavior.

But before she could act on her instincts, Jack was gone. Circling her. Checking his handiwork of correcting her. Then he dropped into the same stance in front of her.

"Now, Dodge."

He'd barely finished speaking when she felt his fist make contact with her stomach. Wheezing, Zahra stumbled back to try and catch herself before falling on her a**. The rational part of her brain that was looking at his unfortunately impressive physique recognized that he clearly hadn't hit her with any substantial force. Yet, she'd never been properly hit before. It was likely going to bruise. And the irrational part of her had settled on rage. Standing, she brushed her backside off before approaching and settling back into the stance he'd forced her into in the first place. It wasn't perfect, she was sure, but it was good enough. Best of all she'd managed to keep herself from wincing from the blow as she settled back down.

Meeting Jack's eyes, she leveled him with a hard stare. If her powers were the sort that were more useful or if looks alone could kill, she imagined he would be having a really bad time right now. But instead she hooked a weak punch at him. It hadn't even been close to hitting him, not to mention Jack read her like an open book and backed out of her reach before she was even close to him. Just as quickly he had hooked another punch at her, connecting with the very same spot he'd hit her earlier. Zahra doubled over, but managed to stay standing this time. She didn't need to look, she could feel the bruise forming on her abdomen.

Lifting her head to meet Jack's eyes once again she considered dropping back down into the defensive stance again. "I believe Instructor Serge told you to teach me, not beat the s**t out of me." Normally, she would have tried to be more delicate, trying to keep up appearances for Lamia's sake or to keep Jamal calm so the Key wouldn't sap him further. Right now? Lamia would forgive her tongue. "Unless this is the fun part for you." She couldn't help the vitriol in her voice, and she took a deep breath before wincing.

Straightening her spine, she closed her eyes and willed herself not to think about how much the simple action hurt. It gnawed on her to know that he wasn't trying and she was so helpless against him. But, she wasn't going to be able to continue. Not until she calmed down and did something about the bruise. Turning away, not wanting to let her stubborn side show to this! This! Al'ahmaq! "That was unnecessarily far. I apologize." She said through gritted teeth. She needed to heal herself. Darting her eyes to his chest she considered she probably needed to heal him too. Zahra could ask him to close his eyes. But didn't she really trust Jack that much? No.

Gathering up the excess fabric from her pants, she ripped off a wide strip. Wide enough that she could double it over. Perfect. "Do not hit me. I swear to every god that exists if you do I will..." The words died in Zahra's throat upon realizing she didn't actually have a decent means to threaten him. If he wanted he could throw her across the room and be done with her. Bracing herself, she refused to let the pain show as she circled him, only stopping once she was behind him and could secure the cloth over his eyes.

She never quite let her fingers leave his body as they traced down his spine and she stepped into his back to wrap her arms around him. Maybe it was some sort of sick payback for how Jack had forced her into position. Maybe it was because she liked the cool touch of his skin under her too warm fingers. Gently, she ghosted her fingers over the bruises and coaxed the healing fire out of her fingertips with a crackle. It enveloped them, ebbing the fresh purple bruises through the greenish yellow stage and winking them out of existence. Despite not needing to physically touch the wound to heal it, Zahra couldn't help but trace the scabs of the stab wound with her fingers as her flame encouraged the flesh to mend itself. By the time she was done it was mostly healed, but still red and angry. She hadn't noticed the bruises on his knuckles to focus on them in the same way.

More reluctantly than she would ever admit, she pulled her hands away from Jack. The fire followed her hands as she pressed them onto her stomach cycling her own bruise away. A part of her had thought about leaving the ghastly yellow phase to remind him what he'd done, but decided it was too much to explain. Shaking the fire out of existence, she finally unknotted and pulled the makeshift blindfold off of him. "There. Now you can beat me up without me feeling bad about it."




▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
sparring room ☀ ivan ☀ outfit

 

[Rob-n-h00d]

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


This woman, indeed, was a bunny. She hadn't even attempted to avoid his jab; in his professional opinion, he had given her ample time to prepare for it. Why else would he take a defensive stance in front of her? Was it not common sense? Her breath wheezed out of her as she stumbled back into a mess of flailing limbs. He could see no difference between her and a buzzing fly he swatted to the floor. It was sad to see, but he held no pity, remembering how much more brutal serge had beaten him as a child. He rolled his neck as she stood to dust off her bottom. Face locked in its stoic expression, utterly unfazed by her pathetic struggles. A part of him might have been impressed by how quickly she recovered, clawing her way back into the wrong defensive stance. As though he hadn't just shown her how to do it.. But at least her thumbs were in the correct position. He waited until she was ready, her gaze finally lifting to collide with his, a fire-like rage shifting behind crimson irises. He could feel the threat in them, the silent wish to hurt him. So he hardened in response, daring her to try.

That was asking too much.

Ivan could see the tells in her shifting body, the simple positioning of her ankles, the way her torso twisted. He stepped out of her sloppy jab, a swift dodge to aim another blow in that same tender spot. Her body lurched forward, hands pressing into the forming bruise. But the pain from the first blow had been enough for her to prepare for it and keep her feet firmly planted.

"I believe Instructor Serge told you to teach me, not beat the s**t out of me." His arms crossed over his chest, leveling her with a dissatisfied look. Not the slightest bit interested in hearing her whines. Was there a difference? He had been trained in this exact way as a child under ten. Forced to learn from his naïve, predictable mistakes just as she was as a grown woman. "Unless this is the fun part for you. " The comment slipping from her pretty lips caught him off guard. Finally, something different. Humor flashed in his eyes at the little taste of honest venom leeching into her words. He'd noticed her in the halls, seen her prim and proper behavior- how she measured each word around other royals, trying to balance this so called piece and make everyone happy. It was nice to see something crack through that prissy façade. A harsh breath pulled between her teeth as she rolled back up to her full height, which wasn't much. showcasing the red splotchy shape of his knuckles imprinted on her abdomen. She turned from him, he guessed, to asses the damage he had inflicted. "That was unnecessarily far. I apologize." Ivan's lips pulled into a frown, irritated by how quickly she snapped that wall back into place.
"Liar." He growled under a breath, hoping she understood he could read through the prissy bullshit. He didn't want to deal with fake personalities while training. He fell back into position, expecting her to do the same. But she moved to rip off the fabric bunched around her waist instead. In one swift pull? So, there was some strength hidden in those small arms of hers. He tilted his head, eyes trailing her figure as though she were something he could devour in one swallow. "Do not hit me. I swear to every god that exists if you do, I will..." Ivan lifted a brow, entertained by the unfinished threat as he waited for her to finish the sentence. "End up on your knees." He finished for her, humor slipping into his reciprocated threat.

His gaze slipped down her figure as she twisted the cloth in her hands, slowly circling him. Her a** was round enough to enjoy looking at, leading into a tight waist he wouldn't mind running his cold tongue down, down, down to that little treat between her legs. Her long, light hair swayed against her hips, moving like harvest-ready wheat in the wind. How easily he could wrap his fingers into it, control every movement and sound she made... He wondered if she would let him rip those pretty blue pants up further, exposing more of that soft, tanned skin hidden beneath the thin fabric. It would make this task Serge had given him that much easier if he were inside of her.

He decided to humor the small girl, turning his attention forward. He was keenly aware of her presence behind him, her body heat brushing against him as she tied the fabric around his eyes. "This won't aid your chances, zajka." He murmured, his body tensed under her trailing fingers, sensing the air around him in case she decided to try anything. Her warm hands danced down his spine, stopping mid-way to wrap comfortably around his waist. His breath stayed steady, one hand lifting to hover over her moving hands, sensing the change in her fingers' pressure with each rolling inhale. His head tipped back, enjoying the warmth of her touch enough to allow a low groan to slip from his throat. Her fingers trailed lower, brushing over his wound. He wondered when her hands would drop below the line of his bottoms and run those hot fingers over another sensitive part of him.

Too soon, she was stepping back, untieing the band from his eyes. He blinked against the vibrant light flooding his eyes and turned back to look at her. "There. Now you can beat me up without me feeling bad about it." His eyebrows knitted together, eyes slowly trailing down to the lack of marks on her stomach. A spike of icy rage twisted through him at the lack of a healing stab wound at his side. The school doctor had already healed his wound once. But once he had been released, Serge and he fought over how Ivan acted with the Princess of Shahiti, resulting in the same excruciating stabbing. There was no trip to the doctor the second time, Serge ensured Ivan cleaned and stitched the wound himself. A lesson to understand the gravity of what he'd done. Hyouden didn't believe in using Healers, only ever in life or death situations, nothing less.

"You felt bad. His jaw tightened, teeth gnawing together as he stepped into her, locking his hand around her throat in one fluid movement. He yanked her off her feet as though she were nothing more than a sack of sand. She bucked against him, nails digging into his arm, attempting to climb out of his grasp. His thumb shifted to dig into the soft skin under her chin. " Does the simple thought of dealing with pain hurt Zajka that much?" He found his voice growing to match his rising frustration. His foot swept forward, knocking her kicking feet out from under her. Following the momentum, he slammed her onto the padded mat beneath them. His free hand moved to yank her wrists together, pinning them above her head as he positioned himself between her thighs, protecting himself from any kicking limbs. " Did it ever occur to you people that someone should feel every stage in healing a well-deserved wound?" His breaths came in jagged heaves as she bucked against him like a frantic fish out of water. His hand slid up to her chin, forcing her face to the side so he could dip down lower. "How else will a killer understand the pain they inflict?" He regurgitated his Uncle's words hoarsely in her ear. Trembling at the memory of steel slicing through the skin twice. He yanked his hands off Zahra before she could register it, standing to pace the matt. Serge would check the wound again first thing in the morning, he needed there to be a wound. Ivan ran his hands through his hair, stepping off the mat to snatch a dagger similar in size to Violetta's off the weapons board. He returned to shove the dagger into Zahra's trembling hands, leveling the blade over the newly healed spot. "Put it back, Zajka," He ordered, forcing the words through gritted teeth as he mentally prepared for the pain."Or do I have to make you fear for your life as well? The threat was true; he would scare her while simultaneously making sure the blade stayed true.


OOC: Time for Trama!

♛ Location: Sparing room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: Do better little girl.
xxx ♛ Vestment: Not wearing much LOL
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

Never had she seen someone react to being healed the way he did. Normally it was uncomfortable, being thanked for doing something that only felt natural. Then there were the few who pushed for more, to push her past her limits. Or to heal more than she was able, bringing the dead back from the edge. At one time, she wished she could. Yet his eyes turned dark, fixed on her like he could kill her in an instant for the act.

"You felt bad. In one fluid motion, she felt herself dangling by her neck. The small voice in the back of her mind laughed darkly at the idea that he must be part Mercurian since he was so damn fast. Clawing into his wrists, she dug her nails in to both try to get him to drop her and find purchase. Yet his grip never faltered as his thumb dug into the flesh under her chin painfully. Sucking down a whimper into her chest, she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her suffering. Not when she was already writhing against him. Instead she locked her eyes on his as she tried, and failed, to bite him. Jack was too damn strong and this clearly was not the first time he'd choked a person. "Does the simple thought of dealing with pain hurt Zajka that much?" If her feet had been touching the floor Jack took care to kick them out from beneath her so that he could slam her into the mat. The blow forced a choked gasp out of her, adding to the boiling rage in her. She didn't want him to have the satisfaction of hearing her.

As Jack caught her by the wrists and raised her hands above her head, he also moved his hips between her thighs. Liquid anger froze over in her veins, turning to fear as he did so. Zahra wasn't stupid. It was hard to miss how he had looked at her, like a woman to bed. Like her father looked at the harem mothers. She'd stilled for a breath, taken by the realization that they were alone and he could force himself on her. Then her efforts doubled. " Did it ever occur to you people that someone should feel every stage in healing a well-deserved wound?" He grabbed her chin as he spoke, jutting it to the side. Zahra closed her eyes waiting for the touch of his disgusting mouth. But it never came. "How else will a killer understand the pain they inflict?"

Relief made her slump into the mat when he peeled off of her. Taking a deep breath, she sat up and watched him pace the mat. She needed an exit strategy. Glancing over at the door she contemplated letting herself become invisible and slip through the door. But Jack calling himself a killer hadn't been the thing to unsettle her. If Zahra was perfectly honest, tens of thousands of lives worth of blood were on her own hands. Even worse, who knew how much of it was innocent. With out Jamal though, she had been so completely powerless to fight Jack off. Slowly she stood, letting her eyes drift from the door to his back as he looked through the weapons rack. He was too keyed up. And so damn fast. He would know, and that was something she couldn't live with.

When he'd returned with a dagger, shoving it into her hands hadn't been what she'd expected. It took her a moment to realize that the dagger was shaking because she had been. "Put it back, Zajka," Nor had she expected that. A harsh bark of hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat as he said it, betraying her vow to not let him hear a peep while he got off on whatever foreplay this was now. "Or do I have to make you fear for your life as well?" Apparently he had misunderstood the hysterics edging her voice.

It was her turn to pace the mat, a frustrated murmur under her breath. "Heal your siblings Zahra. Save them, Zahra." Become bound to your brother, Zahra. Take care of Jamal, Zahra. Unlock the Key, Zahra. Pull out the bodies, Zahra. Remember it all, Zahra. "Put it back, Zahra." As she turned in her final lap of pacing to face him again, she gestured at his stomach with the blade haphazardly. "Let me guess, I should put the bruises back too you ungrateful b*****d?" Without warning, Zahra stepped into him, angling the blade into the fresh, angry scar she had left on his skin. She had never stabbed someone before, but managed to bite back the shudder that threatened to run up her spine as the dagger sank into his flesh. Her mouth salivated at the nausea turning her stomach from the feeling. It wasn't the most unpleasant feeling she had ever experienced, but as she did it she knew it was a feeling that would haunt her.

Pulling the blade out, she threw it to the side far enough that it clattered against the other weapons. Meeting his eyes, she challenged him to say anything as her fingers squelched into the fresh blood on his abdomen. The care she had taken before to hide what her healing looked like was gone, and the flame sparked back into existence. His flesh mended together into a scab and she ripped her bloody fingers off of Jack's stomach like touching him caused her more physical pain than the way he had brutalized her body earlier did. With a glare she spit on him before turning and leaving the room.


.｡.:*✧✧*:.｡.


The day had passed by in slow motion and in a blur all at the same time. She'd been woken from a fitful hour of sleep by her ladies maids fussing over the bags under her eyes and bruise that had bloomed on her neck, trying to call for a healer. Zahra had denied them, insisting that they cover it with heavy makeup for the course of her classes. It wasn't like Jamal would notice. Lamia might, but she had enough tact not to ask about it in public. The stubborn part of her wanted Jack to see her with the bruise. If he thought it was so damn important, she might as well give him exactly what he wanted. However, throughout the day her resolve wavered in and out, and she was far too intimately aware of the time passing. As she washed her face and changed into a set of training clothes - this time a black top with matching pants so baggy they almost appeared to be a skirt - she steeled herself to enter the training room.

Except it was empty.

Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, Zahra sent a frustrated glare at the clock. He should be here by now. But maybe Jack was more of an a** than she had already thought. Sure, it could be true that he didn't expect her to show up today. After yesterday that probably would have been the natural reaction. She didn't want to think about how she'd curled up on her floor instead of sleeping and reliving how the blade had felt sinking into flesh until the first rays of sun had tickled her nose. Or that she'd been unable to eat due to just how sick it had left her feeling. It had been hard to find a box big enough in her heart to pack up everything that had happened in the span of an hour the day before. Besides, she didn't want to give him an excuse. He hadn't earned her empathy. The sound of the door clicking open had her whirling to face him.

"You're late."




▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
sparring room ☀ ivan ☀ outfit

 

[Rob-n-h00d]

Layout by: CELESTIAL SENTINEL

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


"Heal your siblings Zahra. Save them, Zahra." Ivan could hear something deep inside her cracking under the pressure. Unsure if it was his own doing or simply a long-suppressed simmering pot ready to spill over at the slightest nudge. He was happy to be that nudge. "Put it back, Zahra." She spun on her heels to face him, teeth clenched, eyes wide, lit with a manic fire he hadn't seen from a royal before. Only on the slaves who ebbed ever closer to the brink of insanity deep within the darkness of his uncle's mines. His body shifted following the blade's frantic point, fighting against the alarm bells that told him to dodge the unsteady weapon. But he would ensure it hit its tender target.
"Let me guess, I should put the bruises back too you ungrateful b*****d?" A dark smile shattered his stone-cold expression. Amusement curled wildly behind his eyes. Yes, actually, it would have been helpful, but he didn’t believe her small frame could do more than scratch the surface. She jerked forward, finding her speed as the blade sank into its mark. Pain blazed through his torso, fighting against his blaring instincts that screamed at him to step back. He curled further into it, a jagged exhale tearing from his lungs as he angled his face inches from hers. Memories of his own blades slicing into tender flesh flashed through his spotting vision. Pushing through the daze that threatened to consume him, his cold gaze scanned for any reaction from her. She did well concealing it, he could almost believe this wasn’t her first time stabbing someone. If it weren’t for the gentle quiver in her throat.

She yanked the blade free, gaze locking onto his like fire clashing against Ice as her hand slammed into the wound. He felt her defiance in the move, her anger and frustration radiating through the nails that dug into his tender flesh. He hadn’t anticipated a second offensive ability; most healers didn’t have one, so his eyes widened when the fire sparked against his skin. The pain-soaked groan that gurgled up his throat was masked by a growl as he expected the same searing pain that charred the skin of his forearms, leaving gruesome scars concealed beneath the tattoos planted there.
But no pain came, instead the same warmth from earlier spread through his torso, realizing now it had been his skin knitting back together beneath her flame. She ripped her hand away, heat still radiating where they connected.

She spat at him, his head whipping to the side as it splattered against his cheek. She turned, hips swaying as she stormed out of the room. She actually spat on him. A sinful laugh ripped from him, cut short by the residual pain still wearing his nerves. He wanted her to do it again. His thumb wiped at the saliva slipping down his chin, bringing it to his mouth to suck it from his thumb. His uncle's plan clicked into place as the unsavory sweet flavor coated his tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ivan met his Uncle early the next morning. ” How did it go?” He leveled his uncle with an uninterested look. Not believing for a second that his rats hadn't already informed him of the prior evening's events. ” She’s Funkazan.” Ivan spat in response, the kingdom's name turning to ash on his tongue. No amount of seductive curves could make it taste better. ” Nice of you to catch up now-” His uncle stepped into him, the smell of peppermint wafting around Ivan, burning his eyes. Serge’s voice lowered. ”No more beating her, we’re not back in Yakutsk, she is no slave. I need you to Woo her- If you are capable of anything besides ********> Ivan stepped back, desperate for a breath of clean air that didn’t assault his nose. He offered a curt nod, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned to walk away.”Boy.” The tone froze Ivan in place, too familiar with the demand in it. His attention stayed forward, hand yanking the tucked cotton shirt from his waistband to showcase the inflamed red wound beneath. Ivan stood far enough away that he hoped Serge wouldn’t notice the five crescent-shaped bruises around it. A soft hmm of approval cut through the stale wind in the room. Ivan yanked down his shirt and moved to remove the flask tucked from his pocket. Pressing it to his lips as he took his leave.

The rest of the day passed in a drunken haze. Ivan found himself skipping most classes, his company varying between some of the males he had reluctantly acquainted himself with and his favorite drink. He did, however, against his better judgment, catch himself searching for the girl, an unshakable chill radiating through him each time she was in the same vicinity as him.

At the bell's final toll, he leisurely walked out of class and headed toward the training room. As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of Zahar yanking the training door open and sauntering inside. Ivan’s head cocked to the side, surprised by the confidence she had stepping back into the room. Her ladies left in the hall to scramble, worry etched into each fine lines of their features. Ivan quietly approached, a freezing presence looming over them. They attempted to scatter beneath him like mice, his claws catching one by the collar.

~~~

Ivan yanked the door open, standing just outside the doorway to watch her spin, meeting his gaze. “You’re late.” His mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to offer her a response until he passed the threshold. Keeping superstition secured at his side. “She can tell time.” He answered flatly, moving to the side of the room to unclip his suspenders, freely tossing them into the corner. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he approached her. Eyeing her training attire and the distasteful crimson color choice. Eye finally caught on the pretty bruises blooming along her neck, surprised to see them still there. “Does the pain bother you?” He questioned, not an ounce of guilt in his tone. Too familiar with the strangling tightness of a bruised neck. Sadly, it seemed her windpipe hadn’t been damaged during their first session.

The door hinges squeaked behind them, and one of the ladies Ivan had snagged shuffled inside carrying a small wicker basket. Her gaze stayed glued to the ground as she placed the basket on a nearby chair, only glancing at Zahra once before catching Ivan’s stare and bolting for the exit. The smell of food wafted through the air, hinting at the contents inside. He had tasked her personal entourage with gathering Zahra’s favorite foods, his only request was it be higher in protein. “ Ve will not train until something lines that stomach of yours.” He hadn’t seen food or drink pass her lips once during the meals today, refusing to train someone stupid enough to pass out from self-inflicted starvation. He left her to indulge, working to fill a plethora of sandbags they would be using for weight training. If she tried to object, Ivan would simply ignore her, offering no acknowledgment until she put something in that velvet-lined mouth.


OOC :

♛ Location: Training room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: Idiots starve themselves xxx ♛ Vestment: Pictured
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

“She can tell time.”

There was a freedom in the annoyance that Jack coaxed out of her. In the way that it crackled under her skin, like still hot embers left after a blaze. It was hard to say if that freedom came from how in such a short period of time Jack had become her least favorite person in the school, or if it came from the emotions he had forced Zahra to confront. They weren't pleasant. The grief, the horror, the anger. She had spent most of the night cycling through all of them, and yet at the very least they were hers to feel. But as she narrowed her eyes and watched him move past her like she hadn't wasted her time waiting for him, the thing she felt the most was disgust. Was this really the man she'd let herself get so worked up about the night before? This oaf had gotten so under her skin that she'd been willing to stab him? It was laughable. She needed to learn to manage herself better, Though as she crossed her arms over her chest and watched him, she knew it was a lost cause.

Finally he turned, and she watched as he raked his gaze up her body. Appreciation turned to distaste, then as his eyes caught sight of her neck surprise seemed to spread over his features. “Does the pain bother you?” His tone was flat, and it didn't really seem like the question was for her. It was like he was stating the question to an open forum without expecting an answer in return. It didn't stop her. "You said killers should feel the pain they inflict didn't you?" Zahra's tone was clipped and she met Jack's eyes defiantly, throwing his own words back in his face. It didn't matter that her victims didn't suffer bruises, even if she wanted to feel their pain she couldn't burn. She was begging him to give her more reasons to justify her impulses from the day before.

Before he could, the hinges of the door interrupted them. A maid ducked in with a basket, not wanting to make eye contact with either of them. The scent of fresh bread mingling with smoked meats made Zahra's stomach flip unpleasantly. It was an unpleasant reminder of how little she'd been able to stomach through out the day, only managing a few sips of water at breakfast and not attempting any other food or drink since. If just the sips of water had curdled her stomach this morning, she didn't want to think about what trying to eat now would do to her. Especially the meats. She broke eye contact with Jack to look away, not wanting him to see the vulnerability on her face from the smells of the meats. The maid sent her a pitying look before scampering away, as if this was only done because it couldn't be avoided.

“Ve will not train until something lines that stomach of yours.” Jack had turned away as if to force her to eat like she was a petulant child. Little did he know the sight of his back was a comfort for Zahra. The way she could practically feel charred, leather on her hands just from the smell or the hollow, vacant look that had settled on her face? They were private. Too personal for the stubborn mule of a teacher she'd been assigned to see. Besides, he was about as comforting as hugging a cactus. The most he would give her in return for letting the war resurface was a cold, hard stare filled to the brim with disappointment.

Yet, the gesture was unexpectedly kind. It certainly wasn't something she had ever expected from the likes of him. "Thank you." The words were barely a murmur, all of her earlier bravado deflated into nothing between the gesture and the looming threat of giving into her demons. But she still couldn't hide the genuine appreciation in her tone either. It was hard to remember the last time someone had bothered to take care of her. Usually she was the one mothering Jamal or Lamia, but for once someone had bothered to notice her needs. Even if it had been an a**. The defiant part of her had wanted to snub the gesture, yet she couldn't. The tiny hope in her heart that he had some good left inside had already reignited. Even if it had gone... somewhat poorly. If she had her way, he would never know.

Glancing at his back one last time, Zahra padded lightly over to the chair where the maid had deposited her package. Crouching down into a deep squat before the chair, she pulled the cloth off of the top of basket. If the smell of the smoked meats had seemed strong before, they were ten times worse without the cloth covering them. Her nostrils flared, and a shudder ripped through her before she could stop it. The basket needed to go. Her eyes darted back to Jack, filling his sandbags without a care to give her a second glance. Could she get away with not eating anything? No. If the basket was proof of anything it was that Jack was far too perceptive for his own good. Food would have to actually pass her lips to get out of this. Sorting through the basket, she was able to find a sealed container of a broth that smelled like vegetables and a few rolls that were on the smaller side. It seemed like a light choice that wouldn't churn her stomach any more than it already was, but eating them was another story. Until the basket was gone, her ability to give in to his commands was questionable at best.

Which was how she had ended up crouched at the doorway, scooting the basket out of the room and making painfully awkward eye contact with Jack. Imagining how much she looked like a prey animal caught by a predator was unpleasant, especially with how pronounced the difference in their height was at this angle. Her face felt warm, uncomfortable with how much she liked the idea of him hunting her as she fumbled for an excuse. If only he had been less attractive. Less muscular. Less infuriating. "It was too much and seemed like a bad idea to leave open food out." The lie felt hollow to her own ears, yet the awful burnt smell being trapped on the other side of the door made it easier to focus. Gesturing to the chair where she had left the humble meal she had selected, Zahra stood. "I'm not going to spit on your good will, even if I don't understand it."

It might not have been the best word choice, all things considered.

The uncomfortable prickle of embarrassment settled over her shoulder blades as she settled down to drink the broth and eat the rolls. Based off of what had been in the basket, it was unlikely he would be entirely pleased with her choices. But that hadn't stopped her from erring on the side of caution. The sinking nausea that lined her stomach hadn't dissipated enough for her to consider being the good little girl who did what she was told. Her eyes flicked to Jack, taking in just how broad his shoulders were and imagining the muscles that lie underneath his shirt rippling as he continued his work. The memory of his cool skin against her, the way her healing magic had made him groan like he was in heaven. Zahra didn't want to be anything akin to those three words to this man.

After stomaching what she could, Zahra turned to stare at him. She hadn't eaten well. So little that she'd only been able to stomach a little more than two of the rolls and the broth. Surely it was something he would comment on. Bristling at the thought, she steeled herself. Then she approached. "I think we've wasted enough time," she said, her eyes narrowing at the bags of sand he'd spent the last several minutes filling. What fresh hell did he plan to inflict on her now? Picking up one of the bags he'd finished, she tested it's weight. Heavy, but not unmanageable. "what is all of this for?"




▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
sparring room ☀ ivan ☀ outfit

 

[Rob-n-h00d]

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


Her thank you was a subtle, weak murmur that fell flat in the room's stagnant air. It was almost as if she didn't want him to register her gratitude. That was fine by him; the idea of trying to explain why his gaze clung to her enough to notice her poor appetite was an enigma not worth exploring to him. Ivan kept her at his back while he continued his chore, repeatedly filling the weighted sandbags while keeping his ears perked to listen for her movements.

At one point, when he was younger, Ivan loathed the task he was somehow now so willing to perform as a warm-up. With each repeated movement, he could hear his uncle's voice growing louder, screaming at him to move faster as he strained beneath sandbags twice his body weight. He could feel the blood slipping down his throat after each agonizing heave while he trekked uphill in a snowstorm, shards of ice biting into the soft skin of his bare feet. How often had his uncle made him perform the task?

A chill crept down his spine, strong enough to draw Ivan's attention just in time to catch Zahra's figure skittering toward the door. His actions were quick, yanking the air in the room to collect beneath his feet and simultaneously preventing the bag that fell out of his grasp from slamming onto the floor as he rode the summoned breeze to her side. His hand reached to snag her arm to stop her; this brat would be sorely mistaken if she believed she could escape after daring to scrutinize him for being late. But she crouched out of his grasp, the sound of something hitting the floor, pausing his movements long enough to watch her scoot the food basket quietly out the door.

Was this infuriating woman really about to throw out possibly the kindest notion he could muster toward her? Ivan steeled his features as she looked at him, catching the slightest flicker of emotion behind her eyes and the pink that crept over her cheeks as a result. They held each other's stare, neither one making a sound as she forced the basket past the threshold.

"It was too much and seemed like a bad idea to leave open food out."

Her lie fell on deaf ears, knowing his request was minimal for the average person's diet. Yet Ivan found himself more disgusted with her wasteful nature. It triggered an icy rage that filtered through him, pumping into his bloodstream like shards of glass. Such filling, savory meats were challenging to find in the barren wastelands of Hyouden, especially during the sunless winter months that often sent his people teetering on the edge of starvation throughout the war. The sharp feeling of your stomach devouring itself, having no idea where your next meal would come from...It changed your relationship with food. Yet here this brat sat, unwilling to push past her frail stomach to adequately fuel her body. There was nothing he could do about it besides forcibly shoving the nourishment down her throat, which was stretching his generosity further than he was willing to go.

"I'm not going to spit on your goodwill, even if I don't understand it."

She already had, though Ivan much preferred how she had done it the first time. He watched as she walked back to her meal of broth and bread, her movements stiff, as though she could feel the icy daggers his gaze bore into her back. Irritation leaked from his pores in uncontrollable waves, causing a bone-deep chill to radiate from him that dropped the room's temperature. If it wasn't for his uncle's gag order, Ivan wouldn't be forced to swallow the rising urge to slap her for the insult. Still, it went down like acid as he moved past her, unable to prevent the insult that slipped through his tightly clenched teeth. "избалованная сука" The words were a visible breath of chilled vapor.

He'd almost found soulless again in his mundane task, but Zahra had finished her light meal too soon, her presence a daring hotspot that cut through the chilled radius emitting from him. "I think we've wasted enough time,". Like nails on a chalkboard, her voice scraped down his mind, and the annoyance that flared back to life was evident in how his body jerked to tie off the final sandbag. A muscle ticked in his jaw, watching her move to pick one up, testing the fifty-pound weight in her hands. ""what is all of this for?" Plumes of vapor rose from his nose at her insufferable questioning. Women were meant to be silent, docile creatures, but this one seemed dead set on squawking. "Weight Training." His answer was a reluctant grumble as he yanked the weight out of her hands and tossed it back to the ground with the others. He didn't need her ******** with things until it was ready.



Grabbing a large duffle, he bent down to toss three sandbags inside, slowly curling it to test the weight. On his ascent, Ivan's arm slithered around Zahra's knees, not caring to listen for any protest as he stood to his full height and tested her weight against the duffle in his other. While he could clearly remember her limp body writhing in his grasp the night prior, he needed to be sure the memory of her weight was accurate. The sand duffle weighed around one hundred and fifty pounds, slightly more than the fragile frame balanced against him. He released his hold, letting her tumble from his grasp without consideration for her landing on her feet before tossing the bag at her.

"We'll Carry them down the stairs and back." His hand swooped towards a door at the far end of the room that opened to a spiraling staircase. As she moved towards it, Ivan would work to fill his own duffle with six small sandbags, craving the mind-numbing destresser this workout gave him. Heaving the heavy bag over his shoulders with strained effort, he trailed her heels on their slow descent. Much to his disappointment, she didn't seem to struggle nearly as much as he had anticipated. Moving like the seasoned slaves in Hyouden who spent their short lives working beneath the mountains. Her body was strangely familiar with the movement, compelling him to second-guess his earlier assumptions about her. What had she done to force such a frail-looking creature to carry this much weight? But he would sooner cut out his tongue before asking, unwilling to let an ounce of perceived praise slip from his lips.

After descending the first four flights of stairs, Ivan was sure the tight stone stairway was determined to cook him alive; the heat radiating from his infuriating partner ricocheting off the walls and clashing against his skin, drawing more moisture from his body than he was used to. The beads of sweat that formed on his brow simmered and popped, turning to vapor before they could escape the icy bite of his flesh. Evidently, he had severely underestimated her strength, the girl showboating down four more flights of stairs with too much ease. At the same time, Ivan struggled to keep up, swallowing each humid breath in slow, even waves so he wouldn't appear too winded when he finally met her at the bottom level. His duffle slammed to the floor, the ground trembling beneath its weight as he motioned for Zahra to do the same.

Vapor escaped through the damp strands of his hair as he pushed them back. His free hand worked to unclasp the buttons of his shirt and slowly peel the wet fabric off his body, tossing it aside. His gaze dropped, leveling Zahra with a disappointed look. "You vill not grow in strength if you do not push yourself. Tell me next time it is too light." The statement was meant to fall flat, so it didn't appear as a compliment. However, part of him knew she would take his words and run with them- as women often did when pining for male approval. Crouching, he brushed his fingers over her duffle, cold seeping from his fingertips and wrapping around each grain of sand to nearly double its weight. He motioned for her to pick up the bag, a smug look cracking over his features, knowing this trek back up the eight flights would be an even struggle for both of them.

The heat hardly bothered him during their excruciating ascent. The frozen duffle pressing into his shoulders quickly morphed between a blessing and a curse; while it inadvertently kept her blistering heat at bay, the added weight made each brutalizing step that much more antagonizing. Ivan kept his gaze forward, using the hypnotizing rhythm of Zahra's hips as a lure that egged him on. It was surprising to find someone who could keep up with his grueling training regime... This bunny seemed full of surprises. Every so often, if he caught her strength wavering, he used it as an excuse to free one hand so his fingers could gently brush against the exposed skin of her waist. Ivan only did this to force her into correcting her form, knowing how his touch caused a visceral reaction that would urge her back into place. But how he enjoyed the way that fire beneath her skin bit at his fingers.

By the time they reached the training room, both were too fatigued to bother concealing the staggering breaths that ripped from them. Ivan threw the bag down as he finally broke the threshold, his fingers reaching for the subtle breeze that filtered through the crack of a nearby window and yanking it towards them. A heavy gust of icy wind tore through the stagnant air in the room. Ivan stretched into it, angling his head up as his fingers threaded behind his head, chest expanding to open his airway and swallow down as much air as possible. Eyes trailing the groaning scaffolding above them, then gliding down to look at Zahra. Unable to prevent the satisfied grin that cracked over his lips as he spoke breathlessly. "Good varm up."

The smile disappeared as quickly as it emerged, confused by the sudden urge to show her how pleased he was with her hidden strength. Shaking his head, he walked to the small box clipped into the wall; he flicked it open, grabbed two rolls of black tape, and tossed one to Zahra. "Vrap your hands." The demand in his tone returned, not offering her a second glance as he crouched by the duffles on the floor and emptied the smaller bags into an enormous leather sack. He found the rope needed to hang the makeshift punching bag, tying one end to the top and tossing the other into the scaffolding above, using the surrounding air to securely thread it through the most vital point.

Ivan jumped, using his body weight to yank down on the rope and hoist the bag into the air. He dangled it at the optimal height so Zahra's petite frame could strike dead center. After tying it off, he spun on his heels, half expecting to find the girl prepped in the starting position. Imagine his surprise when his eyes landed on a girl fumbling with the tape in her hands, struggling to keep the wrappings in place. Maybe she wasn't so full of surprises, back to being a bunny severely lacking common knowledge. He moved to her side and grabbed her hand, yanking the mangled fabric from her skin and tossing the now-useless tape to the floor. Turning the palm of her right hand up, he pulled his roll of tape from his pocket and pressed the starting edge into its center. Slowly, he circled it around her palm, gently weaving the tape between each finger, then circling it down to her wrist.

Ivan tried not to think about how soft her skin felt against his callused hands, the sensation reminding him how the smooth pads of her fingers felt trailing down his chest the day before. How much excitement pulsed through him at that moment? Pulling the tape taught, he pressed his thumb into the fabric to tear it- but then her wrist was at his mouth, his lips brushing against her exposed skin as he caught the tape between his teeth and ripped the excess fabric away, tucking the tail neatly in place. He placed the roll in her now-wrapped hand, motioning towards the other.

"I've shown you. Now wrap the other and fall into a defensive position."


OOC :

♛ Location: Training room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: Idiots starve themselves xxx ♛ Vestment: Pictured
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

From this close, it was hard to ignore the effect he had on her. The lack of food had already dropped her internal temperature below the norm and the room had been too cool for what she was used to back in the deserts of Funkazan. Now the chill that seemed to radiate off of him was threatening to make Zahra shiver. But that was weakness and she would rather die than show him weakness. Tensing her entire body, she forced her muscles not to give away just how aware of him and the cold that rolled off of him in waves she was.

The bright side was that they were now on an even playing field.

Having the knowledge that Jack was at least part Hyouden gave her some solace in how forcefully - and quite possibly stupidly - she'd shown him her own home country. It also helped that she had very acutely noticed the way his hand jerked, as if the sound of her voice was more than he could bear to deal with right now. The issue with the food had annoyed him. Zahra had known it would. But being able to physically see it was more delicious than she had anticipated. For how much this b*****d had crept under her skin, it appeared she had done the same with him. Good. There was a deep satisfaction in watching his jaw flex, and she wasn't going to think about how much she wanted to trace those flexing muscles with her tongue.

"Weight Training." As he ripped the sandbag out of her hands, she couldn't help looking at him through half lidded eyes as a self-satisfied smirk grew on her face. It was a s**t-eating grin, one she wasn't even trying to hide from him at that. Jack deserved to be annoyed with her. With all of this. What Serge was making them do was stupid. And for all of his trying to hide it, it seemed they actually agreed on something.

With him entirely unwilling to accept her help, she leaned against the equipment lightly. Zahra was perfectly content to watch him as he crouched down, throwing the sandbags around into duffel bags like they had weighed nothing. No wonder he had been able to jostle her around like a rag doll yesterday. The memory made her eyes narrow, considering how good it would feel to place her foot on his shoulder and kick him onto his back. If only she could watch Jack writhe underneath her grasp. If she had thought the idea of him hunting her was enticing, it was nothing compared to what the thought of him submitting to her was doing. She hadn't noticed his arms snake around her knees.

"Wha-" A breathless shriek tore out of her, ending up sounding far closer to a moan because of just how much her daydream had wound her up. As he tested her weight her arms flailed, tangling around him and digging her nails in. Zahra had wanted her claws in him, but not like this. He balanced her for a moment, and she found herself adjusting the positions of her hands to card them into his hair. This was just to stay balanced. Nothing more. Or, that was the lie she was telling herself as he dropped her. The way he had released her suddenly was as if he wanted to drop her unceremoniously onto the floor, but instead their bodies stayed connected. As she sank she felt the ghost of his hand trailing up over the swell of her a**, letting gravity do the work for him as his cold fingers made contact with the bare skin of her back. The front wasn't much better, where she could feel the hardened muscles of Jack's chest through the thin, thin fabric of her shirt. Her hands had fallen as well, trailing down his neck with her nails before she'd come to rest her palms on his chest. Forcing herself away from him, she realized he'd held one of the duffel bags to test it against her own weight.

If anyone asked she was panting from being startled, nothing else.

The duffel bag was flying at her before she had fully recovered, and catching it made her stumble for a moment. Recovering, she schooled her features into a hard stare. The simmering attraction to Jack was something she wasn't ready or willing to unpack yet. "We'll Carry them down the stairs and back." In fact, every time he opened his mouth he made it easier for Zahra to convince herself she wasn't attracted to him at all. Now if only she could get her body on the same page. Also, how long had there been a staircase there? Out of habit she started pulling the bag by the handle toward the staircase, similar to how she would have dragged the bodies while in Jamal's inferno. At least the bag was a less awkward shape and closer to a teen instead of the grown men she was used to dragging. Despite being on autopilot, it made the duffel an easier task. Especially since she would have to go the full way up and down the stairs with it.

The movement of Jack heaving his own duffel bag over his shoulders caught Zahra's attention from the corner of her eye. Snapping her head up, her mouth made a small "o" as she realized the bag wasn't a body and she could also heft it over her shoulders without repercussions. The only time she had thought to use her back and shoulders had been when the poor souls who were still half alive were being carted out of the carnage and she was actively trying to prevent them from making contact with the ground. Imitating him, she tested the weight now that it was on her shoulders and not being dragged behind her with a small squat. This was so much easier. She turned and strode with relative ease to the stairwell, able to walk properly now and not backwards like she had been before. Maybe she had less to worry about with the stairs after all. And she would never let him have the credit for it.

Going down the stairs had been a strange sort of hell. There were eight flights in total, and while the bag made her descent slower than it normally would have, it didn't actually hinder her that much. The worst distraction was the icy bite that seemed to radiate off of him, digging into the bare flesh of her waist and arms. If it wasn't for the fact that the last two days had made her intimately aware of just how cold to the touch his skin was, Zahra would have thought it was his lingering gaze. From the constant chill, she'd thought he was immediately behind her. But when she reached the final landing of the eighth floor down, was surprised to turn and find Jack further behind her than she thought. And... Steaming? She squinted trying to make sure she wasn't seeing anything funny, but sure enough vapor seemed to be radiating off of his body. A small part of her wondered if that was healthy. The rest of her was telling that part to shut up because he wasn't worth it. When he stood before her, once again on flat ground, he let his duffel bag drop to the ground with an echoing thud, motioning for her to do the same. Shrugging the bag off of her shoulders, she placed it down next to his.

"You vill not grow in strength if you do not push yourself. Tell me next time it is too light."

It was hard to level his disappointed stare with a disinterested look of her own when he was once again stripping down in front of her. Her eyes couldn't help but trail down, watching him literally steam until they caught on the stab wound she had re-inflicted on him and the half-crescent bruises from her nails around it. She swallowed thickly, quickly meeting his eyes again. Between the vapor pouring off of him and the sweat that slicked his shirt and hair, Zahra had expected him to smell rank. Instead his scent reminded her of liquor, a forest she'd been to once in Thah before burning it to the ground, and cold. If cold had a scent she was sure it would smell like Jack. Her mind had only begun to wonder if he would taste cold too when she forced herself to focus. The best she could do was scrunch her brows in confusion. "How heavy is it supposed to feel then?" Her tone must have come off as talking back because he didn't dignify her with an answer, instead freezing the bag. She didn't realize why until she hefted it back up over her shoulders and it felt significantly heavier. Instead of dignifying his smug look with a response she stepped past him and started the trek back up.

If the descent was a little hard, the ascent was absolute torture. The frozen sand seemed to leach the warmth from her shoulders, radiating slowly down into her entire body. By the Goddess she would never let him see her affected by it. While she couldn't feel heat, the effort not to shiver as she took each exhausting step up had sweat dripping down her temples. The moisture in her hair combined with the damp fabric of her shirt was making the cold that much more unbearable. If this was training, she was starting to think she might need warmer clothes. Occasionally she would falter. A small shiver threatening to make her fall until Jack's cool touch on her waist had her straightening her posture once more. The punishing climb was a distraction from how much she wanted to give in, lean back into his chest, and let those cool, cool fingers sink down the front of her pants to truly sap the last of her warmth away.

Passing the threshold of the training room was a relief, and she dumped the frozen bag on the floor far less gently than she had at the bottom of the stairs. Between the bag and Jack she was freezing and her legs felt like gelatin. Her arms wrapped around herself on instinct, and she considered healing the deep chill that had settled into her bones away. Her eyes darted to Jack, who seemed just as winded as she was. He would give her too much s**t if she did. An icy wind seemed to rip through the room, forcing her arms to wind even further around herself. Yet, even as she braced she couldn't take her eyes off of her warden. The way he stretched into the chill, how broad he was. Despite knowing his body was cool, a part of her wondered if being enveloped by him would be warm. She'd been about to step toward him without thinking when his gaze met hers. "Good varm up." The smile he leveled at her left her gasping for air more than the warm up had.

It was gone before she could memorize it, and a small roll was sailing towards her. She caught it easily without a thought and looked down at her palm to discover what it was. Tape? "Vrap your hands." She looked up at him like a doe, not sure why he seemed to content to assume she had experience with any of this after yesterday. Worse, he didn't even wrap his own hands for her to imitate him. Instead he busied himself with the sand again. Not sure what else to do, she attempted to wrap her hand like she would for someone with a wound she couldn't completely mend. Only trying to dress her non-existent wound with one hand was proving difficult. And it took her long enough that suddenly Jack was over her, pulling her hand to him with a gentleness she didn't expect. Which was any gentleness at all, to be fair. Whatever displeasure he had he took out on the tape as he ripped her clumsy attempt away and let it fall to the floor.

The press of the tape into her palm was intimate, more than any of the contact they had made up to this point. His hands were rough against hers, in a way that was only unpleasant because she couldn't have more than then light grazing of his calloused fingers against her palm or wrist. Zahra could feel her heartbeat quicken as she watched him gently weave the fabric between her fingers and down over her wrist. The way he was touching her had chased the chill away so thoroughly it had been replaced with a pulsing need that seemed to make every nerve in her body stand on end. He'd been about to tear the tape with his thumb, but suddenly his lips where against her wrist and the sensation made her thighs clench. It made her hope for a moment that he felt this moment just as intimately as she was. Yet, all too quickly the tape was placed into her wrapped palm and he was no longer touching her.

"I've shown you. Now wrap the other and fall into a defensive position."

Trying to swallow the rising need, Zahra obeyed his order without talking back to him. Having seen it, mimicking the motion was simple. It wasn't really that different from wrapping a bandage like she had originally thought, but she never would have placed tape between her fingers if she hadn't watched his demonstration so carefully. The only thing she struggled with was ripping the tape without her second hand, but she followed his example to use her teeth before tucking in the loose end. It might not have been completely perfect, but to her untrained eye Zahra couldn't see a difference between the two wrapping jobs.

Rolling her shoulders, she watched him step behind the makeshift punching bag. "Oh, so today we aren't going to be sparring again? Pity." And it was. At least if they were sparring Jack would give her more reasons not to like him. More bruises. More of his stupid reactions over healing. The lingering feel of his gentle touch was irritating her. It was too different from yesterday. How were those the same hands that had bruised her neck like it was nothing? And why in the Goddess's name did Zahra want to know what they would feel like on every inch of her body. Hating him was easier. Even if he had noticed her low appetite. Even if he'd tried to feed her. Even with that stupid handsome smile she knew she wanted to earn again.

Letting out a frustrated huff, she dipped down into the defensive stance he had shown her yesterday. Somehow, she'd managed to widen her legs just right. Managed to position her arms correctly, as if Jack were behind her again playing puppet master. She could feel that her form was wrong as she punched the sandbag, watching as he moved to stabilize it now that she was throwing punches at it. Even if they weren't close to good form. "Have you started to notice this wasn't what I was trained for?" She sent a few more punches at the bag, each one with more force behind it than the last as if to match her rising frustration with herself, her attraction to him, and the situation they were being forced into. Finally she dipped onto her back leg, pushing off of it quickly to whip her body around and slam her shin into the sandbag with an echoing slap.

Her chest heaved from the effort for a moment, her body still weak from how little she'd eaten combined with the warm up that Jack had pushed for her to participate in. Zahra found herself meeting his eyes, pulling out of her defensive stance and leaning her chest against the sandbag so it was sandwiched between them. It had taken her longer than she cared to admit to realize he hadn't been saying her name incorrectly the day before. And with that knowledge, she'd taken a moment during the day to ask the linguist teacher what exactly Zajka meant in the Hyouden tongue. Her eyes held a challenge in them that she couldn't back up as she met his gaze. "Or do you just want me to hit you that badly, كلب?"




▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
sparring room ☀ ivan ☀ outfit

 

[Rob-n-h00d]

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


If there was one thing Ivan thought he was good at, it was keeping his moves calculated. Each action should align with a purpose, to learn or gain something or gauge a reaction. Or that is what he had been taught… it wasn’t working in his favor if that primal urge he just gave into had anything to say about it. Completely blindsided by the uncontrollable need to have his mouth against some part of her body. That's why he had to turn his back and demanded she wrap the other hand on her own. Using the order as a shield so he could pick at the invisible tape stuck between his teeth and extinguish the residual fire that her skin scorched into his lips.

After recentering his thoughts behind the sandbag, his gaze dropped back to Zahra to watch as she bobbed her head from side to side, attempting to loosen up. The long hair that blanketed her shoulders slipped back, exposing the thin sheen of sweat beading down her skin.

"Oh, so today we aren't going to be sparring again? Pity."

He exhaled an amused breath from his nose. Knowing that her sharp words had to be at odds with the painful yellow and purple bruises he’d left on her neck the day prior. There was no serpent of guilt coiling in his stomach at the memory. In his mind, the reaction and punishment were valid. But when he focused back on the task at hand. It was apparent that the same training methods he had grown up with wouldn’t make it any easier to break down her barriers and get the information his uncle desired from her.

Zhara exhaled, then wildly began beating the sandbag in front of him. Though her form had improved since the first time he’d seen it, Ivan noticed the signs of discomfort coursing through her muscles with each incorrect throw that connected. If she kept at it, it was possible her fist would bust open even with the tape wound tightly around her knuckles. A hard but necessary lesson to learn he assumed.

"Have you started to notice this wasn't what I was trained for?"

A dissatisfied look settled on his face to showcase how little he cared to hear her strange excuses. Did she think he had any training as a child? He cried like that one time, and his uncle broke three fingers and then forced him to continue training for having the audacity to talk back. Ivan contemplated sharing that information, but Zahra’s shifting posture distracted him, the strength hidden in her small frame condensing into one striking kick. Its force had him pressing into the sandbag to counteract the move. By the Ice Giants, her legs were deliciously powerful… He wondered what they would feel like straddling his head, quaking violently against his ears as his tong- She huffed, eyes drifting up to meet his as she collapsed against the sandbag. Reluctantly and a tad bit irritated to have his train of thought interrupted…Ivan maneuvered the bag to press into his hip and bear her added weight.

"Or do you just want me to hit you that badly, كلب?"

A sinful smirk pulled at his lips, eyes narrowing as his head leaned down to hover inches from hers. “ Do not tease me vith a good time, Zajka. This dog likes to bite.” His voice was a low purr that settled deep in his throat, content with the thought of sinking his teeth into any tender spot on her body. He yanked the punching bag out from between them, swinging it around so it could settle against his back. “ I vont enjoy that until you can land a painful blow.” He added, stepping into her personal space. With the power she had displayed so far, he knew she only needed guidance. But praise was above him, so he wouldn’t be telling the infuriating woman anything. Let her stew in her weak-minded thoughts a little longer.



“Vhen did dogs start teaching tricks?” Humor seeped into Ivan's hollow question as he drifted around her, brushing his chest against the exposed skin of her back, trying not to savor the warmth in it. But it was so similar to the feeling of finishing his first bottle of whiskey after a long day. Making it hard to remind himself to keep his movements slow and kind. If he was going to get under more than just her clothing, he couldn’t yank her around anymore…Maybe he could start by treating her like he would his younger siblings. Fingertips drifting up her arms, he gently urged them back into the correct face-framing position. Never losing contact as they continued to ascend to brush away the strands of sandy hair clinging to her neck. Leaning down with the intent to level his eyesight with Zahra’s, he found himself unable to prevent his lips from brushing along the shell of her ear as he whispered. “I think you deserve some payback Zajka, you vant to hurt me next?” His hand moved to trace the brand he'd left on her neck, the smell of foreign spices and cinnamon overpowering his senses, making his voice sound husky as he struggled to swallow the urge to taste it. ******** treating her like his sibling- he wanted to angle her head and drag his tongue down her jaw, bite into the tender spot on her neck, and coax out that succulent moan she’d let escape her lips when he picked her up earlier.

Releasing a jagged breath, he exhaled the lust fogging his mind, painfully aware of the pressure building behind his zipper as he freed her throat and pulled his attention forward to tap the knuckles of her pointer and middle finger. “This is how you do it. Make sure these two are the first to make contact.” Palming her small fist in his, he guided a slow, steady strike, making sure to turn their hands horizontally as they made contact with the sandbag. He did it again, this time with more force, their combined power shredding his bare knuckles against the canvas bag as the hit landed.

The scaffolding above them groaned under the weight of the careening punching bag with no one to stop it, sounding eerily similar to a scream, the pain in his knuckles too familiar. At that moment, he was pulling his broken, bloodied hand back to his face, fingers coated in shards of bone and mingled flesh as a man lay riving in the snow beneath him. The canvas clothing that blanketed his torso was shredded around a grotesque, concaved hole centered on his chest. Ivan had overdone it, blinded by rage so thick he’d forgotten to question the man before killing him. Pitty… He pulled from the well of power curling in his stomach to push it into his hands, crystals forming over his knuckles, numbing the throbbing pain there. But heat pulsed against his palm, clashing against the ice, attempting to take form. Odd, the heat of fresh blood never stopped this action before. Turning to inspect his palm, he was perplexed to see his own blood slipping between his fingers. No bone or meat, just a small palm curled in the center of his.

That's right… He was in a different place now. Humming lowly, Ivan shook the vision from his head and dropped Zahra’s hand, extending his open palm just in time to smack against the punching bag pendulating towards them, a bloody handprint stamping its center. He’d need a drink soon if the memories were starting to surface already. But he had a toy to play with first.

Crouching, he brushed his hand against the side of Zahra’s right knee, his icy gaze roaming over the swell of her breast until his eyes could lift to lock on hers. A grin split over his lips, landing somewhere between a smile and a threat. “Keep your knees loose when striking Zajka. You’re stiff.” His words became visible condensation that danced in intricate swirls over the thin fabric of her shirt. He straightened slowly, eyes never leaving hers as his fingers traced the muscle in her thigh, thumb trailing dangerously close to that sweet spot between her legs. “The strength is already in your hips and legs; be sure to condense it in your-” his hand grazed past her hip to settle on her stomach as he reached his full height above her. “Core, and relax. You might be able to do somezhing.” Though he knew of a few choice ways he could get her body to loosen up, he chose not to act on them.. Dancing that fine line his uncle had drawn for him. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her, enjoy seeing that body react to his touch.

Peeling his hand away from her, Ivan prowled over to the sparring mats. Deciding to give this bunny what she so desperately desired. Though he figured this wouldn’t be nearly as fun as the first time. If she walked out with any more bruises, there was no telling what his Uncle might do, so he would have to change his tactics. He leveled her with a mischievous look as two fingers uncurled, inviting her into the circle. Like a good little girl, she was quick to accept, stepping up with more confidence than he expected. Slowly moving into his stance, he held out one hand, drawing her focus to it as he slowly curled his fingers into a fist and wrapped it behind his back. Leveling their playing field.

She was quick to understand, barely giving him the time to press his fist against the curve of his spine before swinging. Dodging her attacks was easy, her body still giving her motive away before she could act. But he couldn’t help the adrenaline that coursed through him each time her fist whizzed past his cheek. With each of his countermoves against her, Ivan made sure to slow his momentum, giving her ample time to avoid. A smile curled over his lips each time he narrowly missed her. They danced around each other for some time, neither one connecting with the other. Watching how her shoulder dipped back, Influenced by her posture and previous maneuvers, Ivan positioned his body to avoid the strike he assumed was coming. But at the last moment, the sneaky vixen shifted, her weight falling onto her back leg as she twisted, the same way she had when kicking the sandbag. Her shin connected with the chest he had left open for the taking, his posture already tilted back in anticipation of the wrong move. Air whoosed from his lungs, the wound in his side snapping, sending a shock of heat through his torso as he stumbled back, trying to catch himself. But Zahra was quicker, wiping his feet out from beneath him. His back slammed into the mat, a laugh ripping from his chest as he realized what she had done.

Zahra was on top of him before air could fill his lungs again, heel digging into his sternum as she loomed over him. The s**t-eating grin plastered over her lips enhanced that hungry fire blazing behind her eyes. Somehow, the prey had managed to get the predator beneath her… But what would she do with that power? Ivan put on a show of discomfort, wincing as her heel dug deeper. He moved to grip her heel with the hand not currently trapped behind his back. “You read my movements?” He questioned through false huffs of labored breath. Her weight was nothing to him, but she didn’t have to know that. His fingers twisted around her heel to press beneath the flowing fabric collected around her ankle and up her calf. It would be easy enough to knock her knee forward and force her into straddling his chest, then catch her hip as he bucked to twist their bodies and get her beneath him. But he wanted to see where the bunny would take this... then he could move.




OOC :

♛ Location: Training room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: What does the bunny want? xxx ♛ Vestment: Pictured
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

LOCATION: Training Room xxx COMPANY: Ivan xxx CLOTHING: Outfit

His eyes had gone from looking through her, into her, to irritated, to the eyes of a man trying his damnedest not to consume her. “Do not tease me vith a good time, Zajka. This dog likes to bite.” As the sandbag was pushed out between them, Jack stepped into her. His scent was the first thing to hit her before the chill of his icy skin bit into her bare stomach. The delicious scent of forest and fine liquor and cold. If only she could bottle and savor it, but that would be admitting how much it effected her against her will. “I vont enjoy that until you can land a painful blow.”

"Oh, but you would enjoy it then?" Zahra bit out, a laugh stuck in her throat threatening to let him know that she was enjoying this. Giving him that satisfaction though? Never. Instead her eyes locked with his, watching as he stepped around her.

“Vhen did dogs start teaching tricks?” His chest brushed against her back as he spoke and the sensation made her eyes flutter closed for a moment. By the goddess how the icy touch of his skin felt so good against hers. What she wouldn't give to feel him pressed against every inch of her. As if on queue, his fingers ghosted down her tired arms. The chill left by his touch invigorated her, helping chase away the weariness of not eating, hauling weights, and taking out her frustration on the sandbag. Yet, she couldn't help but wish he would be a bit more forceful with her as his touch gently guided her hands and arms back into proper form. Hating him was easier when he was rough. That was all it was. Zahra definitely didn't like it.

The sensation of his hands trailing back up her arms to her neck to push away her hair was making it hard to convince herself that she definitely was not attracted to Jack. As was the way his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “I think you deserve some payback Zajka, you vant to hurt me next?” But his hand tracing the bruise on her neck was what made her breath catch in her throat. If the husk in his voice hadn't made his desire apparent, the growing pressure against her a** and the jagged breath that tore out of him as he stepped away did. It was nice to know that it wasn't just her feeling this. For all his bite and bluster, he was just as effected.

“This is how you do it. Make sure these two are the first to make contact.” Jack tapped her fist before encasing it in his own. The way he wrapped around her made her feel tiny by comparison, but that just fed into her desire to see him on the mats. Especially when he guided her in striking the sandbag. The movement may have seemed slow and steady, but there was enough force behind it that the canvas tore Jack's knuckles and made the rafters scream as the sandbag hurled away from them. His blood dripped between his fingers and onto the backs of hers. Heat pooled in her fingertips, and it took everything in her not to heal him. It would be so easy. It would feel so good. But she wasn't stupid enough to find herself held by the neck on the mat for the second day in a row. Not when they were both so worked up. Would she be able to find the strength to stop him when the idea sent a jolt of electricity through her core?

Zahra licked her lips as he seemed to tenderly open his palm to find hers encased in it, as if it would be a surprise. Then he pulled away from her hand entirely to stamp his palm against the sandbag to stop it from hitting her in the face. Just as quickly he was crouched down in front of her, looking over her like she was a treat to be savored. “Keep your knees loose when striking Zajka. You’re stiff.” Jack's breath tickled her belly button as he spoke, making the muscles of her stomach flex involuntarily. He stood slowly, his fingers dancing along her inner thigh trailing closer and closer to where she was desperately starting to want them before trailing away and over her hips at the very last moment for his palm to rest flat against the bare skin of her stomach. “The strength is already in your hips and legs; be sure to condense it in your core, and relax. You might be able to do somezhing.” Goddess, what she wouldn't give to be writhing on top of him putting the rafters to shame with her own screams. It would be so easy to sweep out his legs from beneath him and force him to use his mouth for something better than this gods forsaken taunting.

But then he walked away.

Shame was left in his wake. An all consuming, ever frustrating shame. Even worse, he knew what he was doing to her. The grin on his face was proof enough as he beckoned her to follow him into the ring. b*****d. It was as if she was nothing more than a hole to fill, her feelings be damned. The shame twisted in Zahra's gut, the icy shards of his touch morphing it into disappointment and anger at herself for allowing him to play her like a finely tuned guitar. Oh how she was sure Jack wanted to pluck at her strings to see if he could make her sing. And damn herself for almost letting him. Even stepping into the ring as he asked felt all too obedient, yet she was going to turn this on him. Even if it took all night he was going to end up on the floor beneath her.

With her approach, Jack made a show of curling his fist and placing it behind his back. The knot in her stomach tightened at the sight. How dare he? To stand there and touch her so intimately was one thing. This, however, was an insult. Indignation flared in Zahra as she settled back into the defensive position he had beaten into her. His fist had barely disappeared behind his lower back when Zahra threw her first punch. Attempting to copy how he'd shown her on the sandbag was difficult. Keeping the same form at a speed that would actually hurt him wasn't as easy as she had hoped it would be. All she was getting for her efforts was the icy ghost of his skin as her fists continued to whip past his cheeks. Even more of an insult, every punch he threw at her was slowed. As if his handicap wasn't enough. Her eyes dipped down to his bare chest, avoiding looking at the stab wound while searching for any weakness she could exploit against him. Anything that he wouldn't expect.

An idea sparked behind her eyes. It took every ounce of discipline in her not to let it show on her face that she had worked something out, instead beginning to move like she was going to throw a punch at him. Always watching, Jack started to move to avoid exactly were she would have punched if she had followed through. Instead she dipped back and pushed off of her back leg to whip around and catch him in the chest. While she heard the sound of his exhale from her kick, Zahra did not give him the dignity of stopping to check on him. Why would she? It wasn't something he would afford her either. Instead she gathered her leg back underneath of her to crouch and dart it back out under his stumbling legs. The sound of his back hitting the mat was like music to her ears.

However, she hadn't expected him to laugh.

Righting herself, she walked up to his supine form. While she couldn't peel the grin off of her face as the sound of him slamming into the mat rang in her ears, she cocked her head at him curiously as she pressed her heel into his chest. What a strange man. Laughing despite having one arm trapped behind him and fresh blood oozing out of the wound on his stomach. His one free hand wrapped around her heel as he spoke. “You read my movements?” His hand twisted again, his finger tips gliding up and slipping under the fabric of her pants to grip her ankle before sliding his fingers up her legs. At every turn, Jack seemed willing to test her limits. This was the most she'd ever been touched by a man. And she was all too willing to let that fact take the blame for her unwelcome attraction to him. All the more willing to let it embolden her.

Her weight shifted to her toes and she coaxed out the healing flames once more as she pulled her foot down the length of his chest. Only enough to reseal the wound. Telling herself it was to prevent more of his blood getting on the mats, even if it was a lie and truly she was curious if it would make that delicious groan rip out of his throat again. Her toes continued their slow trek down his body even after her flames had snuffed out. "You forgot something important كلب." The ball of her foot crested over the waistband of his trousers, the fabric a reprieve from the chill seeping out of his skin. "Dogs may bite, but bunnies kick." Her toes ghosted over the bulge in his pants, and she met his eyes. Unable to help herself as her tongue ran over her bottom lip.

"You've had your hour."

Pulling her foot off of him was harder than it should have been. Stubborn pride had been the only reason she'd been successful. Padding lightly to the door, she stopped before leaving. Twisting her fingers, she debated glancing back behind her shoulder for a moment. She wasn't sure what expression she was making, the high from her arousal and the satisfying slap of his back on the ground pulling a laugh out of him muddling together with the kindest gesture she had possibly ever received in that basket of food. Despite being a demon, there was a possibility that he was a demon who wanted to see her succeed. Finally looking back won out and she turned her head enough to meet his eyes. "See you tomorrow, Jack."

.｡.:*✧✧*:.｡.

Something in their dynamic must have shifted. Or maybe the human embodiment of ice had grown a heart in the last three days since she had gotten him on his back beneath her. Either way, Zahra no longer had to wait for Jack to mosey into their training sessions. For the most part. He always walked in exactly on time or a little after, as if trying to get a reaction out of her before he coaxed her into what was quickly becoming their training routine. It was starting to make her think that the only reason he'd even been late on the second day was because he didn't expect her to show up.

Despite the fact that he was never particularly late anymore, Zahra still found herself waiting for him. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been forced to adhere to such a strict schedule for most of her life, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from arriving to the training room ten to fifteen minutes early. Instead of standing like a child waiting for their friend to come play, Zahra had started taking the precious minutes between classes and waiting for Jack to practice throwing her punches the way he had shown her. Keeping her chin down, remembering to step with her forward foot while punching with her non-dominant hand, turning her hip instead of dipping her shoulders when she punched with her dominant hand. It was all easier to remember when her chilly b*****d of a teacher wasn't trying to figure out how to get those rough hands on her body. And even easier still when she wasn't thinking about how much she wanted to feel those rough hands on her.

The door creaked open as Zahra jabbed forward with her non-dominant hand, taking a little step into the punch as she called out behind her. "Good of you to join me كلب." As she pulled her hand back, she straightened and turned to him. Soaking in the sight of him, it was hard to question if he owned a lot of the same clothes or if he only owned one outfit that he had washed nightly. Either way, she'd come to enjoy watching him take off his suspenders and shirt daily. "I swear it's like you want me to wait. Do you get off on it or something?"

Her teasing was met with a duffel bag being tossed at her, the weight of it forcing her to stumble back. After that first session of weight training, Jack had added at least seventy-five more pounds to her duffel. It was manageable. Yet the weight of it still dwarfed her in comparison and having it thrown at her made it impossible to catch and keep her footing. The trek down the stairs and back up was at least easier after that first time. Despite his frosty touches to correct her posture and lingering gaze on her hips as they climbed back up the stairs, his ever present chill hadn't seemed to sink down into her bones like it had. Though it hadn't stopped her from day dreaming about his chest to her back as those calloused fingers explored her body every day as they made the same climb.

What she looked forward to the most, however, was sparring with him. There was something tantalizing in the way he moved. In the way he brutalized her pride and made her want to stand back up and smack the smug little smile off of his face. Something so refreshing in not having to hold back or the way he seemed to delight in the curses that dripped out of her mouth. If asked, she would still maintain that she hated Jack with every fiber of her being.

Jabbing forward with her front hand, Zahra couldn't find delight in the fact that she made contact with Jack. The punch was too weak. It didn't matter that it had hit, she wanted it to hurt. Frustration eased into her bones as she attempted to punch him again and she felt her shoulder dip down as a tell. Missing her mark completely, her fist zipped past his cheek and he sent a punch back at her that she failed to dodge. "If you're going to hit me, I'd rather you actually make it hurt." The venom dripped off of her voice as she sent another missed punch at him. Ask, however, and she received. Jack hit her with another punch, this one at least winding her a little bit. It wasn't his full force, and the sick, curious part of her wished it was. Finally, either out of frustration or just being tired of not being able to hurt him, she rounded back and attempted to level a kick at his chest.

Apparently, kicking him once had been enough for Jack to wise up to her thinking. Catching her leg, he stepped into her. Wheeling from the sudden stop to her momentum, Zahra pitched forward and was barely able to catch herself against the hard planes of his chest. His scent wrapped around her like a warm blanket, and her trapped leg wrapped around his waist against her will forcing them even closer together. Her breath caught in her throat as his hand glided further up her thigh. Indecision haunted her. Trailing her fingers down his arm, she had planned to grab his wrist and stop him from touching her too inappropriately. Regardless of where she wanted him to touch her, there was a line that he hadn't crossed yet and she wasn't sure if she was ready to let him cross it.

The burn scars on his arms had other plans.

Pulling her hand back to her chest and cradling it like he had scorched her, Zahra's eyes grew wild as her breathing grew labored. How had she never noticed? Against her better judgement her gaze flickered down, catching his tattoos for a moment before whipping back up to his face. Of course they were hidden. No amount of ink would make them feel different under her touch. "Put me down Jack." It was hard to tell if she was still feeling the scars seared into his arms on her fingertips or ghosts of the past. Regardless, she attempted to pull her leg from his grasp but couldn't find enough strength to make it budge. "Put. Me. Down. Jack." Her voice grew more frantic as he didn't drop her leg. Every nerve under her skin was vibrating. She needed to get away from him. He couldn't see this. If anything he would hold this over her head for the rest of time if he did.


OOC:

 

[Rob-n-h00d]

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


Zahra’s head cocked to the side, and he watched as a devious grin sharpened her beautifully delicate features. There was something predatory flickering behind that docile crimson gaze that he hadn’t seen in the halls. No longer a bunny at that moment, her excitement reminded him of when he’d seen an Artic kit finally manage to catch something bigger than a mouse. This was far more superior than any sexual awakening he had coaxed out of females before, getting to witness that passive girl melt beneath a raging flame only he had the ability to unlock. It made him wonder how many embers she kept hidden; how many would she give him the power to breathe life into.

The weight of her foot shifted, and he allowed it to slip out of his grasp. More interested in what would happen if he gave her the space to act on that burning, good or bad, he wanted to observe it. Her decision to ignore his threat from the day prior surprised him, but the intoxicating warmth that bloomed over his chest again extinguished any irritation he would have usually grasped onto. Against his better judgment, his head tipped back, drinking down a steadying breath as he tried not to think about how inherently wrong it was to enjoy the feeling of her flames lapping against his chilled skin. A heat so deep Ivan found himself frustrated to realize there would likely be no alcohol that could compare to it. Destruction was all he’d ever known of fire, all he wanted to be familiar with, but he believed this woman standing before him embodied more danger than those he faced on the battlefield. " You forgot something important كلب." His gifted name sounded like a curse dripping from her lips as her healing toes brushed past his waistband."Dogs may bite, but bunnies kick." Heat flashed through their locked gaze at the threat. The moment her foot pressed against his straining zipper sent electricity prickling over his body as her tongue trailed a teasing line on her bottom lip. Seeing the invitation, the low groan he fought to contain crawled up his throat as his free hand itched to snatch her ankle out from under her and yank her down onto him, but her foot moved before he could.

"You've had your hour."

The sudden release of pressure as she walked away had shock rippling through him, a pulsing heat quickly extinguished beneath an ice bath of disappointment. Ivan’s eyes hollowed into a deadpan gaze that stayed frozen on the space where she once stood above him, refusing to let himself stoop so low as to watch her leave. Instead, making a mental vow never to let that damn teasing bunny get the upper hand again. How dare she ruin ice baths for him. He heard her footsteps pause at the doorway, hesitation apparent before finally releasing her soft voice to carry through the empty space, the use of his childhood name making him recoil. “Tomorrow Zajka.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

In the following days, Ivan found himself more and more irritable with how often the bunny hopped through his thoughts. A constant fight not to draw his icy gaze to her each time they shared the same space. But the invigorating sensation of her flames that ripped away his enjoyment in drinking had him stealing frustrated glances against his will. Watching what she and her lazy lover, who stayed attached to her hip, did throughout the day. Leaving him to wonder if the people she spent her time with truly knew how well she hid that simmering wrath. At least he made an effort to cast his gaze aside each time she looked in his direction, so they could continue acting as if the other didn’t exist on the same plane outside of their forced hour together. Ignore that small part of him that looked forward to it, that had him hiding in the shadows to watch her early arrival to the training room. By the third day, he’d managed to push his wait time up to thirty seconds after their scheduled time before his curiosity outweighed his stubbornness.

The sound of Zahra’s fist connecting with the sandbag drowned out the soft click of the door behind him. "Good of you to join me كلب." He nodded, expression fixed into one of uninterest, offering her little more than a nod as he approached. "I swear it's like you want me to wait. Do you get off on it or something?" It took a moment for Ivan to realize what she meant by “get off on it.” the term was perplexing to him. Get off of what? He stood on nothing? Finally, it clicked as he realized it was an expression used for self-pleasure. He fought to contain a grin as he undressed and grabbed the duffle bags. “ Believe it or not, your vhining does little to pleasure me.” A lie smooth as liquor slipped from his teeth, knowing it was the reason he had to force himself to wait outside the door. Before she could respond, he threw the adjusted weight bag at her, thriving at the sight of her feet fumbling to get beneath her.

In the past three days Ivan had drastically increased the weight of Zahra’s sandbag. Refusing to give her the chance to outpace him again. It was better this way; her close proximity and similar struggles kept his pride firmly intact. Not to mention, it was his favored part of training, nothing but the sound of their labored breathing, her hips waving an intricate dance in front of him each time she moved up and down the stairs, and plenty of chances to run his fingers along her exposed skin with no time for biting remarks. But as far as he could tell, sparring was her favorite. Her sinful wrath quickly bubbled to the surface each time he knocked her down, each time he teased out that venom so vulgar it could make his comrades blush. It was the least she could do to entertain him until she found comfort in her fighting style and made their sparring a true challenge for him. "If you're going to hit me, I'd rather you actually make it hurt." A crooked half grin cracked over his lips. Even with his uncle's warning ringing clear in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go harder, to leave more marks on this masochistic bunny before him. His next throw was hardly an improvement, more bite than before but hardly what he was used to. It was more important to fan her frustration a little further, to get those pretty little legs back in action. As if following his mental orders, she whirled on him. Jumping at the opportunity to showcase how he should have handled the kick the first time she’d done it. The result was better than he could have imagined as he caught her leg, her momentum sending her careening into his bare chest.

“There are better vays to ask me to knock the vind out of you.” he teased, locking her leg against him. Touching her was becoming a strange addiction, like he was suddenly that defiant child again playing with an illegal flame caught between his fingers. With her leg hitched so high around his hip, he could feel the heat at her center pressed against him, beckoning him closer. Was she just as warm inside? Would she taste like the cinnamon and spices that filtered from her? His hand slipped further up her thigh, eyes trailing down to watch her chest hitch on their shared breath.

A frustratingly apparent boundary traced down his arm with feather-light fingers. Normally he wouldn’t care, once he started the lines women tried to draw often became blurred. But he couldn’t do that with Zahra, she needed to be the one to gild the lily and he hated that it made her that much more alluring to him. But something in her mood changed the moment her fingers traced the lines of his scars; the way she yanked her hand off him made him wonder if he’d unintentionally pushed blades of ice through his skin to stop her. "Put me down Jack." Panic weaved through her tone, vision fading into a distant glaze as though it was no longer him standing before her. The expression carved into her features was all too familiar, one he’d seen in his soldiers, that he himself faced in the mirror when he was younger. A strange sensation curled in his core at the sight of it. Having witnessed her softness in class, her rage in training, even her fear of death on their first day together… But this was something different, an entity that scarred so deep it broke her each time it surfaced. Was this what his Uncle wanted him to find?

"Put. Me. Down. Jack." The words were clipped, trying to conceal a tremble that weaved through her voice as she tried to break free from his grasp. Usually, he would find the sound adorable, but knowing he had done nothing to cause it left an ashen taste in his mouth. Never had he thought he would meet a Funkazan who withered at the feeling of their own people's handiwork. But here she was, wide-eyed and panicked as she whimpered something close to a demand. As though he had ever been one to listen to a woman's orders. Only unlatching his hold so his hand could slither around her waist and lift, he forced her other leg around his center. Easily bearing her weight with one arm so his other could trail ice-cold fingers up her back and tangle through the strands of her hair to the base of her neck. He pressed her face into his shoulder in something far too close to an embrace than he would ever care to admit, but some part of him knew this break wasn't meant for his eyes.

“You don’t think a var general knows trauma vhen he sees it?” It was one thing for her to feel crushed beneath the guilt of war, but for her to associate the memories with him. Ivan wouldn’t have that. If he was going to get close to her, he couldn’t have her be afraid of touching him. Within a few long strides, Ivan had her pinned against the wall, using its leverage to free his hands and rest them against the wall beside her, boxing her in. “ Lucky for you, I learned how to distract myself from it long ago. I could teach you how.” it was phrased in a way that left him open for rejection, but that didn’t stop him from dipping his head so his cold breath could dance against the warm skin of her shoulder as he spoke. Breathing her into his lungs, the burn made it impossible for him to stop himself from turning his head and pressing his mouth against her neck to taste her. His tongue moved over her skin, then traced a hungry line up to bite at the soft spot beneath her jaw. One free hand moved between them, the scars of his forearm brushed against her exposed stomach as his thumb grazed over the swell of her breast to circle the tender part beneath her too thin fabric. “ It’s easiest to distract your mind with the body. So Zajka, tell me vhy my battle scars vound you?” She would have to grasp the scars on his arms again to stop him. A tactical move on his part, forcing her to face her fears now or offer a reason to stop. But they could deal with that after he extinguished the trauma response his wounds brought on and replaced them with that familiar wrath.


OOC :

♛ Location: Training room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: Distractions distractions xxx ♛ Vestment: Pictured
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

LOCATION: Training Room xxx COMPANY: Ivan xxx CLOTHING: Outfit

Everything felt like it was muted. The world felt like it was all too dizzyingly fast and in slow motion at the same time. The look of understanding that crossed over his face made a new dread surge through her. Jack knew. And somehow that made this all so much worse. Pulling her torso as far from him as she could, she wiggled fruitlessly again like it would make him stop. Would he make her continue training through this? Would he batter her like he had that first day when she'd healed him properly? He'd never retaliated after the second time she'd used her flame. Was he just holding on to that hate and waiting to strike when he felt she was vulnerable? A relieved breath fluttered out of her as his grip on her thigh lessened. Maybe her million horrible thoughts wouldn't come to fruition.

And then he was around her, lifting her.

A choked gasp was the only response Zahra could muster as he pulled her up into him, her free leg automatically wrapping around his waist to support her weight. What kind of torture was this? The feeling of his cold hand slipping up her back made her shiver. Worse, she couldn't suppress it like she normally would. He was going to make her go through this while he watched. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as his hand began to tangle in her hair. But then he pulled her head into his shoulder in an unexpected kindness. Like he understood she didn't want him to see this. How was it that he was the world's biggest p***k and also one of the most considerate people she had ever met all wrapped in one frozen package?

The chill of his skin seemed to combat the taste of hot ash on her tongue as she breathed him in. “You don’t think a var general knows trauma vhen he sees it?” The muscles of her legs flexed at his question, as if his waist wasn't there to prevent her from curling into a ball to protect herself. But he was having none of it. Before she could register what he was doing her back was to the wall, her head boxed in by his hands as he pulled away from letting it burrow into the crook of his neck. Eyes wide, she frantically searched Jack's face for any hint of what he was thinking. Either her head was too muddled, or he was entirely unreadable. “Lucky for you, I learned how to distract myself from it long ago. I could teach you how.”

Cold sweat seemed to drip down her back, as his head dipped down. Jack's breath tickled her neck, sending gooseflesh down her arms. His mouth on her neck had shocked her, but his tongue running up her neck made her back arch into him and her head tilt back. A groan tore out of her throat in a harsh bark. She could still feel the cracked rubber of burnt leather on her hands, yet she couldn't help as her shaking hands roughly ran over his shoulders and tangled into his hair. A worried voice buried in the back of her mind reminded her of the line she shouldn't cross. His hand coming up to rub lazy circles on her breast through the thin fabrics of her shirt quickly silenced that voice and replaced it with the overwhelming sensation of burnt flesh over her exposed stomach. “It’s easiest to distract your mind with the body. So Zajka, tell me vhy my battle scars vound you?”

Hysterical laughter bubbled out of Zahra's throat, mixing with the wanton moan that she had been trying to hold back. What she'd thought was a kind gesture was a way to coax her living nightmares out of her and give them a bizarrely sexual spin she was struggling not to give in to. How did she get out of this? So many things she couldn't explain, yet she needed to explain something to make this bittersweet hell stop. Even if she wasn't sure she wanted it to. Her body didn't feel like she was living in it as she tried to wrack her brain for something she could tell him. Anything but Jamal, really. Every stroke of his thumb sent a shiver of pleasure through her only for it to mix with the ghost of his scars searing into her belly.

"My use." Her throat felt raw when the words finally tumbled out. It was hard to tell if she was panting from her arousal or panic. "In the war." She clarified after a few heavy breaths. Oh goddess, now how did she explain this. Turning away from him as much as she could, his damned thumb dragged a slow circle on her breast again and her legs tightened around him in response. She didn't want to see his face when she admitted this.

"There was an accident when I was small." That much was true. Carefully dancing around her brother, Zahra continued. "Many of us control fire, but it doesn't make us impervious." She shuddered as the implication of what she was saying hung heavy between them, her grip in his hair tightening. The tears that had threatened to fall earlier now were carving wet trails down her cheeks as she was being forced to try to explain the horror of that day. Of the impact it had on her life. Swallowing through the ash, she forced the next words out of her mouth. "I was young and my powers were weak. I- I couldn't help them. But I didn't burn. I can't burn. It didn't go unnoticed."

Her head hung for a moment before she brought her gaze back up to him, unseeing. Unwinding her fingers from his hair, fingers trailing down to the nape of his neck. Her hands felt numb and she wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the memory of the hundreds of bodies she'd had to retrieve to prove her brother had killed the intended armies. The half alive victims screaming for help in her wake as she saved those she was instructed to. "I was useful. A tool. Able to go where others weren't to bring back the proof that arrogant men need to feel secure in their victories." As she laughed again, the hysteria from earlier was replaced with a deep bitterness. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her eyes watching the way his throat bobbed as he breathed against her like she had tunnel vision. Flicking from his jaw to his lips and finally to his eyes, the line in the sand she'd spent so much time drawing seemed so very stupid. "I'm nothing more than a glorified ملك الموت."

Closing her eyes, Zahra let her forehead rest against Jack's. The chill of his skin chasing away some of her ghosts as she breathed him in. He was everything she wasn't. He was cold. Goddess did he taste cold? Would his all encompassing chill snuff out the flames of regret inside of her? The fingers that had been gently tracing the lines of his neck and jaw tensed in unison with her legs around his waist. She only hesitated for a moment to shudder out a breath of anticipation before forcefully pressing her lips to his.


OOC:

 

[Rob-n-h00d]

A N O T H E R x DAY x I N x THIS x C A R N I V A L x
OF x S O U L S
ANOTHER NIGHT SETTLES IN AS QUICKLY AS IT GOES
THE MEMORIES OF SHADOWS一INK ON THE PAGE
&& I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME; ︾ IT'S ALMOST LIKE
y o u r xxx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱
y o u r xx h e a v e n ' s xxx t r y i n g xxx e v e r y t h i n g
☒ TO KEEP ME OUT.


Zahra’s body bowed into his like he knew it would. Fire and ice connecting as her fingers left a blazing trail on their way into his hair. Every part of him wanted to continue tasting her, to keep ripping those animalistic sounds from her lungs. But that chill curling at the base of his skull drowned out the feeling of her fingers, reminding him of his task, that he needed information, that there was a purpose for getting close to her.

Ivan pulled back to watch how she reacted to the question, gauging each complex emotion that flashed in rapid succession across her eyes. The succulent moan his thumb coaxed out of her dampened beneath a manic, almost painful laughter. She could see his prying question for what it was, but the hardened peak beneath his thumb appeared to do what he had promised and separate her mind and body enough for her to explain.
"My use. In the war." The words tore unwillingly from her throat between pants, and Ivan’s head cocked in vulture-like curiosity. Her answer didn’t seem like a valid reason for such a visceral reaction to his scars. It was a healer's duty to mend the broken and dying. To hide away in the camps and tend to those worth saving who managed to return. It was their only objective. That couldn’t have been what had this blazing woman shrinking into meer embers before him.

Even through the distraction of her panting Ivan had enough sense to know she was weighing her words. He was etching beneath the tip of an iceberg, burrowing his way into a hidden part of Zahra and forcing what was there to the surface. It was a necessary evil, he told himself. Even as he watched her head turn in a weak attempt to hide whatever painful memory that initial excuse brushed against. Keeping the hardened shell of a Ded Morzo who enjoyed torture latched firmly in place, his thumb trailed over her breast again, the tremble in her legs urging her on.

A sob story from war, that was what he anticipated. An attack on her healer's tent because some dense general miscalculated and placed it too close to the war front. He hadn’t expected the vision of a small child trapped within the violent flames of her home, left to watch as the people around her burned. Something inside him cracked beneath the heavy vortex of loss that hollowed her gaze and left tracks of moisture down her cheeks. A foreign serpent curling at the pit of his stomach. There were thousands who held that same expression while in torture, but only after days of physically breaking them. Zahra was weaker than he thought, if she allowed a memory to break her in such a way. So what was this potent urge to wipe away the tears he had forced out of her. Men like him didn’t offer that type of comfort, but he found the skin of her stomach was suddenly too hot for his forearm to continue pressing against her.
"I was useful. A tool. Able to go where others weren't to bring back the proof that arrogant men need to feel secure in their victories.
Her bitterness was a rekindling flame behind her eyes, understanding seeping through the fingers that traced his jaw. Highlighting the stark contrast between their rival kingdoms and their experiences in war. Unsurprised to learn the Funkazan seed was tainted by weak offspring who sent a woman into the fire to retrieve their proof. Ivan had always been the one to shoulder the killings, a tool just as she had been. But where she internalized it, he felt no remorse in bloodying his hands if it meant shielding his siblings, that moral void between them widening.
"I'm nothing more than a glorified ملك الموت. "

She was wrong. The angel of death was a shadow companion to him, and it looked nothing like the Funkazan dutchess before him. It was a broken, chilling creature with razor-sharp claws that scratched at the back of his mind, fueling his dark nature. The one that fed on her burning gaze as it jumped from his neck to his lips, then up to meet his, that told him to feed into the opening her ragged breath gave him.


Where her kiss was a force, his was a hunger. A growing need that took the form of a low growl rumbling from his chest as he moved his mouth against hers, free hand tangling into her hair, pulling her head back for more access. But the warmth of her lips moving in tandem with his was only an ember compared to the inferno he desired. Peeling his hand from her hair, he seized her jaw as he caught her lower lip between his teeth. Using her whimper to delve into that coveted depth to run his tongue along hers.
The moment of hesitation and clashing of teeth told him she wasn’t familiar with the action.. But that didn’t stop him from drinking it down like the liquor he kept in his pocket, but that was water in comparison to her. The taste exhilarating, as if he had the heat of the sun shivering beneath his tongue. Growing increasingly frustrated with the thin fabric that separated his skin from hers, his fingers slipped beneath her shirt. Ripping his mouth away to swallow a panting breath and hear the sound she made in response to his head dipping down, he swept his tongue over the fabric that covered the pebble caught between his fingers.

“Remember this feeling each time you feel my cold scars against you.” He groaned the demand as his tongue roamed up to her collarbone to bask in the spiced heat her skin offered. “ My vounds will not be yours to endure Zajka. Do not lump me in vith your ghosts.” There was nothing he could offer her but distraction; this wasn’t something he was meant to shoulder for her. What he said must have struck a nerve, surprised by the ferocity behind Zahra's kiss as he brought his lips back to hers. Allowing her access to explore him as he slid their bodies down the wall, his hands releasing to grip her hips as his knees connected with the ground, pressing her against the rising throb behind his zipper. The feeling of her teeth latching onto his bottom lip had a breathless laugh masking the shudder that racked through his body. “Careful Zajka.” He warned. While the pain had pleasure rocking through him, part of him had a sneaking suspicion that blood would curdle against the distraction she was searching for.


OOC :

♛ Location: Training room xxx ♛ Social contact: Zahra xxx ♛ Introspection: Distractions distractions xxx ♛ Vestment: Pictured
ALL THE PLACES I'VE BEEN & THINGS I'VE SEEN
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
t h e xxx f a c e s xxx o f xxx p e o p l e xxx i ' l l xxx n e v e r xxx s e e xxx a g a i n
▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰
◢ A MILLION STORIES THAT MADE UP A MILLION SHATTERED DREAMS ✮ ◣
▿ ▼ ▿
AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY HOME

 

[Kumako Shock]

LOCATION: Training Room xxx COMPANY: Ivan xxx CLOTHING: Outfit

For five days they had played cat and mouse, going back and forth with their little games of attraction. Jack's body reacted to her, but it didn't necessarily mean anything. She'd spent enough of her teenage years lumped into the same room with her brother to know that men sometimes reacted to nothing or something they didn't want to react to. Maybe that was why Zahra was so surprised when his hands threaded into her hair and he returned her clumsy attempt at a kiss with force. For all of his looks that seemed to want to consume her, actually having his mouth on her proved it in a way she never thought possible.

The chill of his fingers ghosting across her jaw left gooseflesh behind, the feeling a relief to her overheating skin. But then his grip changed, becoming more forceful as he caught her lip in his teeth and nipped her. The pain mixed with her pleasure and Zahra let out a breathy moan. One that Jack was all too eager to swallow as his tongue slipped in her mouth. The sensation was strange, something unlike anything she had experienced before. And yet, wholly welcome. After only a moment of her brain stuttering to catch up to his experience, she found herself following his lead. Even his tongue was cold, but that made the dance they were playing at all the more thrilling. Every swipe of their tongues was overwhelming as she tasted the liquor and ozone on him. So overwhelming she barely registered his fingers slipping up the front of her shirt to find the hardened peak of her breast.

Jack pulled away first, leaving her flushed and disappointed. A low whine was the only protest she could manage, letting her hands slip away from his jaw, down his throat, and letting her nails rake down his back like it would bring his mouth back to hers. Instead his head dipped down to meet his fingers and flick his tongue over the sensitive peak caught there, making Zahra's head dip back as she arched into it. Involuntarily her fingers gripped at his back in response.

“Remember this feeling each time you feel my cold scars against you.” The gruff demand made her toes curl, knowing that he was reacting this way to her sending a surge of electricity down to her core. His tongue tracing a line up to her collarbone may have had something to do with that rush of heat. But knowing that she had caused the gravel in his voice was doing wonders. “My vounds will not be yours to endure Zajka. Do not lump me in vith your ghosts.” The order rattled down into her bones, burrowing into them in only the way this arrogant man could. How dare he? Why was Jack the only person in her life who seemed to care so much about her? Why was he the only one who was able to coax out her moods and turn around to say exactly what she wanted to hear in the harshest way possible?

When his mouth fell back on hers it was as if she couldn't get enough of him. Of his taste. Of the panting and groans. The way he was giving her access to him while bringing them down to the floor, lining up the thick bulge in his pants directly between her legs. A fervent need was growing inside of her and she showed it by following his example. Catching his lower lip between her teeth, Zahra rolled her hips into him. The action sent a jolt through her that made her drop his lip and curl forward to moan into his neck. Jack, for his part, seemed to hide what it did to him better. The breathless laugh that tore out of him was accompanied by a shudder she only felt because her fingers were digging into his back with such force that they nearly felt numb.

“Careful Zajka.”

The warning snapped her eyes open, her brain fighting through the fog of fear, pain, and lust that had landed them in this moment. She could feel her face heat against the spot at the crook of his neck where she seemed to slot into oh so perfectly. The moment he had now forced to pass. There were a few blissful seconds of being pressed into Jack so thoroughly that she could convince herself she could ignore his warning and see what happened like it was a question that still hung between them. But she knew what would happen. What couldn't happen. Zahra wasn't free to give herself to anyone she pleased, even if it felt like what she needed at the moment.

"Jack." His name fell out of her like a prayer as she rolled her hips slowly, trying to savor the last of whatever passionate mess this had become before pulling away from him and pressing into the wall. Space. They needed space. To cool down. To do whatever this wasn't. "We can't..." The words died as she spoke them, too surprised at how raw her throat felt from her panting and moaning.

At first he didn't seem to hear her, his mouth closing over her throat again in a way that made her shiver and reconsider stopping him. But when she shook her head and pushed him back again, he seemed to get the message. Or, at the very least Jack reluctantly allowed her to untangle herself from him. The muscles in her thighs protested as she unwrapped them from his waist one at a time. It shouldn't have felt so wrong to separate from him. Zahra had only known him five days. She hated him. And she was actively reminding herself of it as she shakily got to her feet and tried to even out her breathing.

Trying to cool her flush skin, she pressed her back into the wall, but it didn't compare to the ice of Jack's skin and left her more frustrated than anything else. Folding her arms over her chest to protect herself, she tried not to think about how part of her shirt was still damp from the touch of his tongue. He'd managed to distract her, but all that left behind was unsatisfied arousal and confusion. "Do we," she paused, trying to will her brain to stutter back to life was proving harder than she expected when the ghost of his tongue was seared into her flesh. The memories of Adli and her mother brewing just underneath whatever spell he put on her. "Do we just continue with practice then?"


OOC: