Daenerys, evka


Xanthee's matchmaking skills are a bit off and a half drunken Reveka and a very Sober Daen soon figure out that they are NOT a good match.

Sexual references


-- On Pern --
It is 4:45 PM where you are.
It is afternoon of the nineteenth day of the eleventh month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the forty-ninth day of Autumn and 78 degrees. Mercilessly bright, Rukbat's light heats the desert as a small dark cloud appears on the horizon.
In Southern:
It is the forty-ninth day of Spring and 101 degrees. A passing storm thunders overhead. Lightning flashes and thunder booms.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the forty-ninth day of Spring and 24 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


Igen Weyr, Caravan Grounds, Daenerys' Yurt

OOC Date 05 Jan 2018 07:00


reveka_5.jpg daenerys_default.jpg

"C'mere, girl, before you fall down."


Igen Caravan Grounds, Zingari Encampment

Deep grooves in the hard packed earth criss-cross a large patch of denuded ground, bearing mute testament to the caravans that frequent this area. Despite the midden holes set back a ways from the main center of traffic, the air is sweet, redolent with the sagebrush that forms a loose perimeter around the flattened expanse. In what is as close to its center as the vague boundaries suggest, a stone ringed fire pit has been dug and surrounded with the odd log or two, ash overflowing from its darkly blackened core.

It is the forty-ninth day of Autumn and 78 degrees. Mercilessly bright, Rukbat's light heats the desert as a small dark cloud appears on the horizon.

It's early evening in Igen, most are headed for the Living caverns for a bite to eat. However, as always, the bzaar and caravan grounds are a hive of activity. The Zingari are getting ready to close up camp. Three very sucessful performance nights proceeded this one, so the Zingari take a night of relaxation and rest. Reveka is taking hers in the form of celibratory whiskey, happy because her solo act is capturing attention and her dance skills have improved such that she may get to start working with Willimina one on one. However, with her family visiting friends outside of Igen, Reveka is alone in her yurt. And at some point, it occurs to her, that drinking and celibrating by one's self is a lonely and desolate business. So, half lit, and determined, she picks up her bottle of whiskey, caps it, and heads outside to do something she's been meaning to do for quite some time now.

The early evening has brought out even the quietest of the Zingari from his accounts, poring over the lovely amount of marks made over the course of the evening; for once, his fascination with decorative tooling on leather has brought in some major cash. For now, though, the Zingari's leatherworker sits in theentrance to his yurt, running a long, braided cord through slim and supple fingers, his gaze fixed on the middle distance, unfocused. The mild breeze stirs his the black curtain of his hair, spilling it across his shoulders and chest unheeded as that dark gaze lifts to te sky, scanning the stars. Curled up on the various shelves — empty of stock for the time being — Daenerys' small band of ruffians groom themselves or sleep, each according to their personalities, well content with their lot in life.

Reveka makes her way through camp smiling, though less talkative than she would usally be. Her cheeks are a wee bit flushed from the whiskey, but otherwise she shows no signs of being intoxicated, though her thought process certainly is. Dressed in her usual aplomb of burnt orange, she's a vision in that color, she walks through the wagons, hair loose and blowing in the same breeze that rustles through Daen's hair. Speaking of he Zingari Leatherworker…he comes into view and Reveka's pace slows as she takes in the sight of him. She's been long intrigued with the Zingari's newest member, with the quiet man who watches more than he speaks. And her few brief interactions with him had been pleasant. She takes her time in making her way up to his yurt, but once she's there, she'll smile and wave with one hand, whiskey bottle hanging in the other. "Good evening Daenerys…"

His attention's drawn from the skies, settling on Reveka as the culprit. Her appearance is met with quiet, amused bemusement — rarely do the Zingari ladies seek him out. Whether that's due to the quietude of his nature or that incident where he'd dared to be friendly to Aztrexia is yet to be known. However, Daenerys cares not in the slightest; he's long since made the best and deepest of friends with his own company. But still, Reveka's interest in him is intriguing, and so he smiles slowly at her, warm and gentle, and greets her gently enough. "Reveka." Subtly, he angles himself to allow more space on his steps, should the young dancer wish to sit. "Wonderful performance tonight."

Reveka smiles widely in the wake of Daen's compliment. "Thanks. It was a pretty good night. I saw your booth getting some action tonight. Business taking off?" Reveka wanders closer, but she won't sit unless she's invited to. She holds up the bottle of whiskey and grins. "Still had this from our night out with Xanthee, figured I'd celibrate a bit, I've made quite the purse this seven. But I don't have anyone to share with. Would you like a drink?" Ok….rambler. Reve might be just a wee tipsy.

"C'mere, girl, before you fall down. That Red's rather potent." Daenerys points to the stair with onehand, the other reaching out gently for her hand — to help steady her should she need it. His amusement deepens, though he's not — quite — laughing at her, more the absurdity of her insobriety. It's rather cute, in a way, and even he's not completely immune to the flattery of a pretty girl seeking out his company. "Yes," He confirms for her softly. "It seems bits of leather jewelry is rather… more popular than I had expected." With his attention to the tiny details of the things — from bits of hand-painted beading and shells to tricksy etching and shining twists of once-abandoned metal, the things have brought him significant profit. Enough to invest in some quality leather and other things.

Reveka moves to sit with Daenerys, her gait only slightly affected by the whiskey. "I'm glad to hear it, it's good to see you doing well. Not everyone who joins us stays…our way of life is not for everyone." She laughs as she finds her seating and offers Daen the bottle. "And I wasn't going to fall down. I never fall down." It's true. Girl has some balance, but that's a given when one makes a living of dancing and tying one's self into knots. "I think your leather jewelry is quite fine. You should be proud of it."

There's a thoughtful, silent beat for the way of life that he's taken to with such alacrity. "I've never been able to settle to the Tanner Craft, nor Weyr life. And yet…" He turns his hands upward, palms to the sky. "Here… I am peaceful." When Reveka boasts of excellent balance, his brief grin is pure mischief. "Mhm. One of these days, we'll have to put that to the test, pretty girl." Strangely, he believes her; while not near as flexible as Reveka, he's had sufficient training in contortion and dance to know how solid that makes one's balance, even in the most trying circumstances. Good old dad and his less-than-angelic ways, passed down from many generations, inherited by a son even less inclined to the straight and narrow. As to the jewelry, he merely shrugs. "It's one of a few things I can concentrate on to the exclusion of all else."

Reveka luaghs. "Ha, you're on Tanner boy. I may wobble like a drunken wher but I don't fall down!" She uncorks and takes a pull off the bottle, since Daen seems disinclined and grins. She becomes a bit more sober as Daen talks of his work, and what he may focus on to the exclusion of all else. "Mmm. But if you are good at it, that counts for something no?" She doesn't feel Daen should downplay his traits.

Daenerys laughs softly, and the challenge is on: there will likely be many epic battles among the camp to see who can tip whom over. He is, indeed, disinclined to take the bottle; he's not much of a drinker on the best of days, but this night? Oh, this night he intends to keep his wits about him. "Mmm, it does." Idly, he gathers his hair into a single shining rope, pulling it forward to let it fall down his chest in a single smooth motion. "So, pretty girl, what do you think of little Xanthee and her friend?"

Reveka watches Daen out of the corner of her eye, admiring slightly, the way his hair falls over his chest. She blushes deeply at Daen's second use of the moniker 'pretty girl' and laughs when he asks her opinion of Xanthee and Malosim. "They are sickeningly sweet together, and that girl is a bag of tricks. Lets hope her 'friend' can handle her." Reveka chuckles and means well with her words. Xanthee is good people, but the high spirited girl definitely has a few tricks up her sleeves. "What do you think?"

Daenerys laughs softly. "That I'm glad it's not me." Oh, that girl would likely drive the ex-tanner up the Weyr cliff in very short order, were they to go beyond a close-as-siblings friendship. Reveka's blush is noted out of the corner of his eye, and a graceful brow arches briefly before he gently, idly, strokes his knuckles across her cheek as quick as lightning. "Why do you blush when I call you pretty?" He asks softly.

Reveka chuckles at Daen's first, she can see that. But then Daen is asking her a question, and one that catches her quite off guard. She gives a slow, embarrassed smile towards Daen when she looks at him. "I— don't know. I guess…I guess I'm just not used to hearing things like that often." She chuckles and takes another pull off the bottle before corking it and settling it between her legs. For now… "I get pretty focused on my work…and I don't interact often with everyone else." Despite her friendly demeanor, and her close friendships with Xanthee, Amani, and to a point, Bonifas, Reveka is a loner, choosing work over play most days, and her PT routine is pretty grueling.

"Mmm." Daenerys considers her thoughtfully, then smiles a little. "I had noticed how much you focus." Idly, he watches young folk settle around the fire, to their games and gossip and laughter of a moment, then pushes himself upright, turning toward his yurt. "Come here, pretty girl. I find I don't like eyes on me all the time." An invitation given, then, to an intimate space: as casual as one might offer an invitation to the Dustbowl, or the Oasis Inn? No. But somehow, Reveka's passed a test, somewhere.

Daenerys' Yurt(Zingari)

It's remarkably plain, Spartan, even: a loft curves along one wall, just large enough for bedding to be comfortably placed. Beneath, a workbench, leather bits piled up on it like a small mountain. And in the remaining area: nothing bar a set of well tanned, black and white feline hides spread out on the floor, heads well preserved with the skull intact, facing the door of the yurt as though prepared to attack any invader.

Reveka is a bit shocked when she's invited in to Daen's yurt, but she's curious, and less apt to want eyes on her this evening as well. At least…. not all eyes. She picks up her whiskey and enters with a blush on her cheeks and wide eyes for the spartan, yet handsome accouterments in his yurt. Mahogany colored eyes take in the feline pelts with mild interest. "Did you do those yourself?" She asks about the skins, a bit amazed at how well preserved the heads are, and a tiny bit squicked out that the eyes seem to follow her. She spends a moment, pacing a few steps to the right, and a few to the left just to make sure. Yup. Those eyes follow people. Creepy.

"Yeah, I did." Daenerys spares them a fond glance, seemingly heedless of Reveka's discomfort with the creepy, creepy eyes following her about. Except he knows how creepy they are. "I have them that way so that the wrong kind don't want to come in here." He turns back to her, then gently takes her hand, moving her away from the heads of the rugs and toward the workbench — about the only place one might sit with no fear of being eyeballed by the rugs. "Tell me something, Reveka — is there no young man who claims you? Xanthee was very insistent we get to know each other, and I am very suspicious as to why."

Reveka grins widely, even if a little of her squirmishness towards the rugs seeps through. "You did a good job….I wouldn't want to walk into that in the middle of the night." Applause for Daen, the creator of creepy rugs! Deterant of midnight creepers! There's a slight zing when Daenerys touches her hand to pull her towards the bench and Reveka stares at the contact while they move, wondering at that little flare of electricity across her nerves. Daen's question catches her off guard and Reveka blushes again before answering. "Uhm…no, I - I don't. At least, not now anyway." She had been in a relationship…that hadn't worked, for either party involved. "I wonder why she's so insistent too, not that I mind…. getting to know you that is." Reveka blushes again and looks away, a goofy, nervous smile stretching across her lips.

Oh, yes: those things are quite the deterrent against shady prowlers. Meanwhile, the noisier aspect of his security system all flit in and up into the ceiling to their other various perches. Daenerys doesn't let go of Reveka's hand, despite her nervousness; indeed, he tugs her gently closer. "That's too bad." His tone is soft, and caressing — almost… silky. "But at least I won't have someone objecting if I kissed you, now would I?" His free hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip. "Reveka, sweetheart… you tempt me. Too much."

Oh. Oh My. That was quite the change in subject, and the reasoning behind it has Reveka's nervous smile widening as she swallows and shakes her head. "No….you wouldn't." Including herself. Reveka hasn't been shy about letting Xanthee know she likes Daenerys, and finds him appealing. But observing and admiring from afar are a far cry different than being in your admiree's yurt and having him basically tell you he'd like to kiss you. Reveka swallows, tingles reverberating out from where Daen's thumb brushes her lower lip. Her lips part in a subtle 'o' , her heart quickens pace. "You're pretty tempting yourself…." She says, half giggling as a rosy hue colors her face .

"Well, good," Daenerys lets go her hand, framing her face in his hands, determinedly reeling in the hunger that thrills along his spine. That innocence — it calls him, and yet… and yet. Gently, he brushes his lips across her forehead, settling his arms around her shoulders, hands sliding slowly down her back, stroking her as gently as one might stroke a cat. She's in no shape to consent to the things he's got percolating in the back of his mind — and yet he doesn't want to be alone tonight. "Just one kiss, my pretty girl. If I may."

Reveka isn't quite sure exactly how they got from talking about creepy rugs to here, but she's not questioning it. Her heart races as Daenerys kisses her forehead, her eyes dropping half shut. He's so close, she can smell him, and it's a good smell, a heady one. And then…then his hands are traveling and Reveka shivers, gooseflesh prickling to the surface of her skin. One arm flails to set the whiskey aside and wins, managing to get it on a surface before it drops to the ground. "Ok…." she agrees finally, turning her face up to greet Daen's.

Daenerys isn't sure, either — only she's as heady as the whiskey, and her lips taste of it as his mouth settles on hers, gently, the fingers of one hand settling at the nape of her neck. The other hand? It's hooked around her waist, drawing her body close against his. He takes his time, kissing her — wanting to make this thing last. When, however, this good thing must come to an end, he lifts his head, slowly, reluctant to release her. Indeed, he cradles her against his chest for a moment, burying his face in her hair and whispering against her neck, "Dammit, girl… dammit."

Reveka would have sucked in a gasp if Daen hand't been so expertly plying at her lips with his own. It's heady feeling, kissing she knows how to do, and she returns the gesture with aplomb, but with an innocent hesitance that most around the Zingari camp lack. She almost protests when the kiss ends, but then Daen is swearing and Reveka, in her half-drunken state, wonders if it's something she's done. "Sorry…" She breathes, pulling back a little.

"It's just… it's been awhile, and you…" Daenerys loosens his grip on her steps back a little. "You make me hungry." Would he regret this in the morning? Oh, probably. Perhaps not having eyes on them was a mistake in his state of mind; but it's too late, he's already alone with her, restless and unsure. Someone must keep control, and that someone needs to be him. With an effort, he lets her go, stepping back another pace to pick up some random bit of leather to run through his fingers, soothing the well-cured hide between trembling fingers. "I want to get to know you, Reveka. Slowly. And yet…" He laughs, rueful at his own impatience with the slower dances of life. "It's… been a long time."

Reveka does gasp a little. at the sudden distance between she and Daen. Her eyes open, and she quirks a brow. Hungry? How could he be —- Oooooooh. Realisation crosses Reveka's features and she blushes heartily, looking at the floor. She watches Daen fidget, and then he speaks. "I want to know you too…." She admits, voice soft, and then he mentions how long it's been. She blushes again and looks away. "I've…I've never…." She trails off, hoping he gets the gist.

"Never?" Daenerys stares at Reveka, the nervous fidgeting gone, as he watches her flush and look — shyly — away. He folds the bit of leather neatly, places it on the table, and prowls toward Reveka again, lifting her fongers to his mouth in the Tradition-honored way of a Lord and Lady. "Reveka, I'm sorry. I think I… should not be alone with you. I thought it was a game. But it isn't, is it. Not for you."

Reveka shakes her head, eyes wide with curiosity and confusion. "No…never." She blushes all over again when Daenerys captures her fingers. "It's alright I — " And then he's backtracking, and Reveka's shaking her head a bit. "No. It's Ok…." She says of being alone with him, though no, this is no game and she admits as much with a shake of her head when he asks. She flushes with embarrasment at the fact that she is so innocent in this way, still. At this rate she's doomed to be an old maid.

What does one do with a virgin? Daenerys is not at all sure — he props himself up against the workbench again, rubbing his hands over his face with a heaved sigh. "Dammit, girl. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this." He drops his hands, looks up at Reveka and arches a brow slowly. The question must be begged: "What is it that you thought might happen, pretty one?"

Reveka jumps a bit at Daen's explitive, but she can understand it, sort of. She sighs, smiling softly. "I just finally got up the courage to come say hello on my own, and I didn't want to spend the evening alone. My family is gone on holiday and my yurt is empty…" She had just been looking for some company, and hadn't thought much past that. "I just wanted to share a drink and say hi… I hadn't thought much past that." Sober Reveka would have… but half tipsy Reveka? She can be impulsive.

"Ah. I see." Daenerys laguhs softly, and runs his hands through his hair. "And here I am, wanting more, perhaps, than you are ready to give." The idea of remaining outside where there might be less chance of him getting any more bright and sexy ideas is starting to look even better in light of her revelation. "Well, don't I feel like less than a gentleman." He pushes himself upright and offers Reveka his hand, offering a bit of a pax for his gaffe. "Then, little dancer, we shall share a drink, shall we? And I will keep my bright ideas — and other things — to myself, as I should."

Reveka blushes again, a bit sorry for having caused Daen a bit of frustration, but when he suggests keeping his wicked ideas to himself, she shakes her head, sienna colored locks of hair moving with her. "I don't mind… really. I just… wasn't expecting you to… like me back enough to want to… not right off the bat." She's stumbling over herself when she means to say she doesn't mind being alone, and that she's willing, if he is. She's just nervous, and was unsure if Daen would have even accepted her company this evening, let alone want to copulate.

Oh, he wants to — but not with a young woman whose judgement is compromised; that'd be akin to taking advantage of innocence, and he's not about to do that. "Tell you what — when you are sober, pretty one, we'll revisit that 'copulating'. But not tonight." Gently, he frames her face again, and kisses her mouth gently. "Tonight, I think I'll open the roof a little more, and we'll just visit, like friends, hm?" There will be plans, later, for Daenerys to find himself a willing — sober — partner; but for now, he's going to play the gentleman and not press Reveka for more.

Reveka nearly melts under that gentle kiss, her heart hammering against her chest with the contact. She nods after, emitting a breathy "Okay…" She blushes again, the thought of revisiting that topic with Daenerys a heady one, though not at all unpleasant.

Daenerys chuckles softly. "You're sweet, Reveka. Very sweet." Again, the control is exerted, the ex-tanner stepping back to find the set of ropes that opens the roof to the stars. They shine in, soft pinpricks against black velvet, as Daenerys settles down on one of the rugs, eventually flat on his back; all the better to watch the stars. "C'mere. No reason we can't lie here comfortably while we get to know each other, is there?"

Reveka spares one uneasy glance at the creepy rugs before she joins Daenerys on the ground, turning her face to the stars. The rugs can't stare at her this way, and it's probably just her whiskey addled mind that's got the creep factor for them. Besides, she finds laying next to Daenerys quite pleasant. "So what should we talk about?" She asks with a nervous giggle, turning her face to look at Daen.

"Oh, I don't know." Daenerys drawls, idly rubbing his chin as he watches the sky. "I'm curious — how did you manage to make it so far still virgin?" That this might be an inappropriate one seems to have passed Daenerys right by; the man simply cannot resist the knowing. Should he get so far with Reveka as to attempt to bed her, he'd thather not be surprised by some deep, dark secret fear.

Reveka shrugs, her cheeks turning more rose. "Got focused on my work, and by the time I was of a marriageable age, Willimina had already passed her verdict on arranged marriages. I got lucky…or not, depending on how you look at it." Reveka sighs, the whiskey giving her a little courage. "I kind of wish I had lost it…before now." Meaning her age, not the situation, though maybe she now wishs she were a litle more experienced…maybe tonight would have been different. Maybe not. She'll never know. "I'm sorry if I did something to make you think I wasn't…..innocent…"

"Nah, not your fault." Daenerys slides Reveka a look, half-admiring the sweet way she blushes. "Anyone with eyes could see you're an innocent. Wishful thinking on my part." He props himself up on on elbow, turning so that he might look down upon her face, his gaze once more serene. Supple fingers brush the knap of the fur beneath him, smoothing the fur beneath them slowly. "It's just… I was considering a lover for the night. I get these moods every now and then, and there you were. I think I was hoping against hope that you were merely playing at sweet innocence, but clearly, you're not." His chuckle is dry with self-deprecation. Oh, the things one can do to get oneself in a scratchy situation. "Reveka… what is it you're looking for? Not just tonight, but… after that."

Reveka laughs softly, the action brightening her facial features considerably. "Performer I may be, but I'm no actor. I couldn't tell a lie if I wanted to, probably why I was never looked at for spy training." Because Daenerys is a Zingari now, he knows about the spies…right? Well if he didn't, he does now. When asked what she might want beyond tonight, Reveka shrugs again, her posture relaxed. "I don't know… That's ok right? TO not know what you want sometimes?" Reveka knows she wants to be intimate with someone, she knows she wants to get to know Daen….but beyond that, she has no effing clue. Her last relationship hadn't really worked that well.

Daenerys does, indeed, know; he's had sufficient training of his own to have learned how to look, how to see: he'd have to be as thick as a brick not to have figured it out by now. His gaze is gentle and direct as he meets Reveka's gaze. "It's perfectly all right, little one. It's just — I want you to be absolutely sure you want to lie with me, and not, say, one of the escorts. Who might be better equipped for this sort of thing. That, and I am very definite in not wanting to be attached to anyone. I may want to play the part of the lover — and yet, I do not want a relationship. I prefer to play, as it were."

Reveka blanches a bit at being called 'little one', she's certainly no child, innocent as she may be. She's sobering now, her few drinks wearing off. As to laying with one of the escorts, she avidly shakes her head no. "I don't….. I don't want to pay for it. That seems so…cold and calculated, like I'm looking to get rid of something unwanted and get it over with. That's not quite how I imagined losing my innocense. But…I don't think I want anything too personal either. Not after….well, not now." Her face is turning redder the longer she talks, her embarrassment at her situation quite clear.
Shorter than Daenerys equals 'little' by his lights — but he still catches the resentment towards the affectionate term.

"Mmm, I suppose not." He's taken a rather dispassionate view of sex over time: a bodily need, a hunger to be satisfied, but not something confined to a romantic liasion. That she shies away from such a discussion has him grinning wryly in amusement, one finger gently stroking her cheek. "You're a puzzle, little Reveka. Yes, 'little' — you're smaller than me, sweetheart. That's all I mean."

Reveka may be small, but she's not 'little' in her own mind, and she still dislikes the moniker, sorry Daen. It shows on her face, though it's obvious she knows Daen is just being sweet, in his own way. Shhe chuckles at the idea that she's a puzzle. "Maybe, but at least I'm not boring…" She responds, adding a little humor to the situation.

"That, you're not. The which some young man will find very, very irresistable." Daenerys laughs, settling back to watch the stars again, one forearm pillowing his head. The night passes on, slow and inexorable as time often is. Company for a night like this is well worth the many hours spent with his own company.

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