Goran, Erissa


Erissa finally learns the truth when Goran reveals his true intentions.


It is late afternoon of the sixteenth day of the ninth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Caravan Grounds, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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Caravan Grounds

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.



Erissa rounds the back of the wagon with confidence holding her spine ram-rod straight, shoulders in line, and chin raised. Stepping up to the door she raises a curled hand to knock on the wood of the door…

And realizes her hand is shaking.

Jerking it back she folds both arms across her chest and squeezes tight, turning her back to the wagon and leaning on it. Damn! Drawing air in one long, deep breath she lets it out slowly, lips trembling slightly as it comes out ragged. Confidence shattered, she presses her eyes closed. What was wrong with her?? She wasn’t afraid of facing Goran. He was only a man, after all. What he could do to her though…. that brought up a mixed cocktail of emotions too thick to sort.

Freeing one hand she rubs at her temple, cursing the pounding headache that was pulverizing her thoughts before she could put them in coherent order. Frustration and anger well up in her chest, heavy as a boulder, and threaten to push her where she doesn’t want to go. She doesn’t cry - ever! Grabbing ahold of the anger she throws it around herself like a cloak and uses it to renew her determination to see this through.

The only thing that helped was the tea she got from Goran. She’d get it and go. Simple as that.

Pushing off the wagon Erissa straightens, assuming her earlier pose. Confidence is a shallow cover, however, with much less energy behind it than before. The aches and pains assaulting her body, topped by a severe lack of sleep, were wearing her down with increasing speed. Reaching out with her hand she wraps quickly on the door.

“Goran! You in there?”

Rounding the corner of one of the other wagons, Goran slows to a stop when he spies the bluerider banging on the door of his mobile domicile. A sly smirk peels into place, steel-blue eyes hooding as he approaches careful to keep to the grass covered areas so as to disguise his steps. But a two paces behind Erissa, he announces his presence with a sardonic:

"Back so soon?" Amusement shows itself in the cunning smile that latches into place followed by a wolfish roam of attention over the woman before him.

Erissa nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of a voice suddenly speaking directly behind her. With a sharp gasp she whirls about, dark blue hues set to a shadowy glare through the fall of long white-blond layers.

"GORAN!" she grinds his name between clenched teeth. "Don't do that!"

The flush that gives her light tan a becoming glow is surely from the shock of surprise, eh?

"You don't like people coming up behind you?" The silky rasp of words are joined by a knowing hike of brow. "Tsk." A click of tongue follows. "I would think a dragon rider would be better equipped to watch their six." Chiding taunt as he extracts that key and brushing passed Erissa climbs the couple of steps up to the running board of his wagon and unlocks the door.

"Step inside." Said the spinner to the vtol.

Erissa bites her tongue at his taunting, though if looks could kill the trader would be ashes on the ground instead of smugly mounting the steps to his wagon. Crossing her arms she doesn't move to follow him immediately but gives the aches and pains that are haunting her a hard shove downward and draws on steely determination instead.

"I just need some of the tea," she says in a firm tone that doesn't match the strained set of shadowed eyes or the twitch of fingers that drum against her sides.

"You going to stand out there like a camp decoration or are you coming inside? I don't have all day." And for the first time, he allows a lick of impatience show through the otherwise smooth facade he wears like a second skin. Yes, he knows the signs, and deems the lovely little fish now thoroughly hooked. Time for phase two.

Erissa grumbles at his response but relents into going inside, mentally renewing her decision to leave as soon as possible even as she steps into what has now become all too familiar territory. His attitude helps her hold onto determination by grinding against her already frayed nerves, though her confident demeanor suffers with the anxious shuffling of her feet.

"So? Where is it?" she asks, glancing anywhere but at him.

Unlocking the cabinet where he keeps his stash of special teas and tobacco, Goran turns a look over his shoulder at Erissa. Aaaah. Perfect. She's about as rattled as a person can be short of going into the chattering teeth side of things. Which really, is very unattractive to his mind.

"Coming riiight up, honey." The trader croons taking a tea bag out and turning with it pinched between thumb and forefinger and held just outside of her reach.

Erissa barely manages not to start pacing as she waits for the tea by virtue of the wagon's limited space. Not wanting to get any closer to Goran she simply turns and looks about the interior as if curious but really those gray-blue hues see nothing, her focus all on the sounds coming from the trader.

Finally he turns and she reaches for what he holds, only to be denied. Taking a step forward she reaches for it again, full lips flattening into a straight line. With her head pounding like a drum it's easier to ignore any attraction she feels for the handsome trader, reminding herself instead how easily he'd managed to take control on previous visits.

She just needed that tea bag, dammit! Then she could go back to her weyr, brew it up, and let it work in peace and quiet.

When Erissa reaches for the tea bag and finds herself falling short, the trader's smirk deepens. Pulling the item further away from her his other hand comes to the fore, index finger waggling back and forth in chiding gesture.

"Not so fast, honey. Nothing in this life is free," and going by the hungry look he flows over her, she might assume the exact nature of the compensation he's after. Especially when taking into account the payment exacted the last few times.

Pale brows furrow low over blue hues as Erissa eyes that waggling finger. Somewhere in her brain a connection clicks. N'cal was right! She hadn't wanted to believe it, instead coloring her visits to the trader's wagon with simple attraction and lack of self-control but the bluerider had been right in asserting that Goran was trading the tea for favors. The look he drapes over her leaves no doubt of what he wants and memory serves up plenty of tantalizing reminders of just what that includes.

Still, she can't help resisting the idea.

"Fine, I'll pay you. How much do you want?" she asks with deadpan tone and a tilt of her head.

A laugh, graveled and husky, enjoyment at Erissa’s expense glinting cruelly in cold steel eyes is her first response. But before she can say anything further, Goran drops the tea bag into a pocket of his leather coat and folding his arms across his chest, rests his butt against the counter and crosses an ankle over his supporting leg.

“Its very simple, dragonrider.” That rasping speaking voice of his is as cold and calculating as deliberate strokes of fine steel wool along a knife’s edge. “You’re going to bring me the Weyr’s sweep schedules for the next month.”

Blunt and to the point.

Erissa makes a sound close to a growl when that tea bag disappears from sight, shadowed eyes leveling on the pocket it went into. The pounding in her skull suddenly hikes and she shakes her head - at least that’s the only excuse she can find for what she thought she heard him say.

“WHAT?!?” Her gaze flicks up to his face and the arrogant confidence she finds there sends a tremor through her body that has nothing to do with the ache of her muscles. “Are you out of your ever-flamin’ mind??” she snaps, temper flaring. Forgeting her intention of staying physically away from him she takes several long-legged strides and marches up to the edge of what would be considered his personal space. “Quit joking around and give me the damn tea!!”

And that’s just the reaction Goran had expected as depicted by the lift of brow and lazy smirk that twists to his mouth. He doesn’t move so much as a muscle when Erissa stalks up to him, his hands set to either side of the counter next to his hips.

“No, honey,” his reply begins in a gravelly purr, “you’re the one going out of her ever-flaming mind. How’s that headache, hmm? And the aches and itches? Getting much sleep these days?” Pointedly steel-blue eyes drop to the dark smudges beneath hers. “You either get me what I want or…” a hand relocates to pat at his coat pocket, “you’re cut off and if you think its bad now?” Symptoms of withdrawal. “Just wait until day’s end.” Cold, calculating the true nature of the cunning trader revealed in the reptilian stare the bluerider is fixed with.

A sick sense of dread starts to pool in Erissa’s gut as Goran speaks, his voice an oily spill of poison that taints and oozes through her body until by time he finishes his cold projections she can barely stand on weakened knees and the tiny space within the wagon threatens to tilt and spin out of control. Every neuron in her head screams in denial, full lips parting but without sufficient words to express the despair that erupts.

Across the bowl, Danorath suddenly sits straight up and flares cobalt wings wide in reaction to the burst of emotion from his rider. With a roar he launches into the sky, making a beeline for the caravan grounds.

“You…. what are you saying??” Erissa blurts, fine features scrunched in a heavy mixture of anger, confusion, and denial that won’t be denied any longer. “The tea….. is….” Breath quickening she brings a hand to the side of her head. “You did this on purpose???”

Taking one step forward she moves both arms forward in a quick jerk, intending on slapping palms to his chest for a hard shove. “You cracked bastard!!!” she yells.

If Goran is aware of the dragon on angered approach, he doesn’t seem too worried. The moment Erissa’s hands hit his chest, his own snap upward and wrap tightly about her wrists and he jerks her closer, head dipping to lower his mouth to her ear.

“I do nothing without a purpose, dragonrider. And you would have realized that if you weren’t thinking with your legs open.” Insult delivered with a throaty chuckle woven of dark intent. “Now, you either do as I say, or you’ll not only be cut off but the entire Weyr will know about your…” here he leans back and flows a heated look over her, “other sordid addiction.”

With a dark laugh, he releases her with just enough force to shove Erissa way from himself. Just then, a bronze firelizard so darkly colored it appears wrought from the depravity of Between itself, pops into sight and slinks to the darkened gap between cupboards and wagon ceiling. In the next instant, Danorath will receive a very detailed image of his rider naked and twisted about the trader in a very compromising position.

“Understand?” Goran purrs after glancing upward and then back to the bluerider. Yes, that Between smeared firelizard has been hidden but around for every single one of their encounters.

Erissa instantly tries to jerk her wrists from his hold but in her weakened state it’s no more than a joke compared to his strength; as his sadistic laugh at her expense proves. A low manic growl rolls from the bluerider at his insult, her head jerking away from the caustic words he spills into her ear.

When he pushes her away she stumbles, one arm reaching out to the drawers along the wall to steady herself. Had she really found the woodworking so beautiful once? Now everything about the inside of the wagon is dark and ugly, tainted with a malignant poison that will haunt her nightmares for a long time to come. Her own body betrays her, all the aches and pains and pounding headaches that have been plaguing her lurching to the fore as if they sense that the precious tea that is their release is threatened. Bending forward slightly she presses her other arm across her stomach as realization hits her like a punch to the gut.

She was addicted! Addicted!

The pieces fall together with macabre precision, creating a devastating picture. The tea had made her feel better, dammit! Washed away all the painful symptoms so suddenly and strongly that she had floated on a high afterwards, an instant potent aphrodisiac that he’d taken advantage of so callously. It never lasted though, slowly wearing off as the hours passed. She realized too that it’s effects had gotten stronger the more of it she had drank. No doubt he’d made the brew stronger as time went by, tightening it’s hold on her as it grew more potent; causing the symptoms rather than relieving them, as she now understood.

Today had been the worst. She had been lucky that it was her day off sweeps but even secluding herself in her quiet weyr hadn’t stopped the aches and pains from wracking her body until finally she’d given in and come to Goran’s wagon.

She could see it all so clearly now. But now it was too late.

Then he delivers the final ace in the hole and horror strikes such a deep chord in Erissa that she falls back to lean on the drawers behind her, head dropping as one hand darts up to cover her mouth and smother the cry that tries to escape.

It was happening all over again!

The humiliation! The taunting looks of disgust! The utter devastation as everyone believed the lie. Everyone. All because of a single man with lust and hate in his eyes. And she, unable to defend herself because of the truth tucked within the lie. Time warps backward and overlays another man’s face over Goran’s, another weyr over Igen, the faces of people she had thought to be friends - even family - mingling with those she knows now. Familiar features of the few at Igen that she has gotten close to swim into focus, their expressions twisted, each one driving the knife further into her gut until finally her heart shatters into pieces at the last. Cha’el!! Sanity slips as she whimpers, the teen she was then looming over the woman she is now. No recourse. No Danorath. She was on her own.

Blue depths of possessive concentration mentally pounce with the ferocity of an oceanic tempest, the merest thread of thought involving the blue dragon latched onto with claws of iron and driven into full awareness with a force too strong to deny. Danorath bellows to the sky as the image is transferred from the little bronze, faceted eyes awhirl in hues of brilliant red.

«YOU ARE MINE!» his strong voice booms like thunder from the winds. Searing winds blast the older, painful memories to shreds, and encase the smothered core of who she is in a protective shield. «I AM YOURS!» Stated with rock solid intensity. «I WILL PROTECT YOU!>

Erissa jerks aright at the powerful connection, adrenaline pouring into her veins from the backlash of emotion. The image Danorath had received ghosts through the heat of their bond, choking her with a sickening dread, but his strength temporarily ignites her muscles, anger welling up equal to the fear that had paralyzed her.

No, Danorath!….. She pushes back against the dragon’s mind, trying to stop the headlong rush of violence that would end with him tearing the wagon to pieces to get to her. Stop!! That’s not what’s happening. I’ll be right out! Wait!! Throwing up a mental wall that she had become too good at creating, she shuts off a part of her mind from the blue, giving herself the privacy and few extra moments she needs.

Surging forward Erissa throws herself at Goran, intending to rip the pocket right off his shirt if she has to. Fists curl and strike at his chest in a wild fury, verbal insults scorching the air at high volume. Anger explodes at the man who has brought her whole world crashing down around her, cruelly used her, and ripped the foundation out from under her when she had finally just begun to trust it.

Watching as dark shadows play across finely crafted features, relishing that moment when horrified realization dawns, Goran experiences a surge of triumph. Yes!! She was his to manipulate and bend to his will as he so chooses. Even the infuriated batter of fists to his chest isn't enough to remove that swell of satisfaction.

Laughing at the incensed Erissa, he makes attempt to grab at the wrists of those flailing fists.

"I see you understand." Is the gravelly remark he makes. "Now that we are in accord, you can have your tea. But." And there's always one isn't there? "The next time you come back, you'd better have what I want." Open threat lies in the rasping purr of the trader's tone.

Pushing the bluerider away from himself with a denigrating twist to his features he'll turn to the counter and fishing the sachet of tea from his pocket, dump it into a cup and proceed to pour hot water from a recently boiled kettle onto it.

Growling loudly as he rebuffs her with ease, Erissa stumbles backward and hugs her arms around herself. "You damn son of a bitch!!" she hisses. When he turns his back she clamps her jaw tight, the urge to drop-kick him in the square of the back surging through her bones.

But, Faranth help her, she can't do it.

Not with knowing he's making the tea. The sharding tea that she's addicted to.

She has to have it.

The mere sound of him pouring hot water into the cup sends her nerves into a white-hot sizzling fit, muscles clenching into painful knots of anticipation. A self-loathing hatred drives straight down to her bones, making each breath raggedly indrawn. The thought of getting through the rest of the day with her body twisting in on itself while her head tries to explode is more than she can stand.

Goran can feel the bluerider glaring daggers at his back and it sends a thrill shivering down his back, his body craving the rush of adrenaline that living on the edge provides. Clink, clink, clink, goes the spoon in the cup and then once the brew has reached maximum potency, the tea bag is removed and set to one side. Turning with an inviting smile in place, he beckons Erissa forward with a flick of fingers from his free hand.

"Now, " steely eyes filled with the promise of hedonistic indulgence rove the curves and valleys of her anguished body, "there's still the matter of today's payment." She might be looking a little less up to par than when he'd first met her - gaunt in places and with eyes smudged with dark circles - but Erissa is nonetheless, still a stunner and definitely still fuckable.

Erissa moves forward a step the moment Goran turns but one pass of those smoking steel eyes and his words stop her dead in her tracks. A shiver runs through her from head to toe, tightening the wrap of her arms about slender frame. He can't be serious!!

Just then Danorath lands outside and roars loudly directly at the wagon, his volume enough to rattle the walls. Only due to Erissa's insistence does he refrain from attacking it, his stout burly frame rippling with hard muscle as he begins to pace and beat the ground with long, powerful tail. He'll wait as she asked. But not for long.

Inside the wagon, Erissa takes a deep breath at the sound of that roar, drawing strength from the blue while keeping him shielded the best that she can.

"You've demanded payment enough, Goran," she grinds out in a tight tone, dark blue hues sparking with lightning-filled clouds of gray. The tea! She must have the tea! Tongue slips out to wet dry lips as she looks at the mug and she has to swallow hard. Desperation yanks on her reservations and she takes another step closer. "Give it to me!"

Thankfully Goran's wagon is situated along the outermost edge of the caravan grounds so that when Danorath lands there is little chance of damage done to those camped nearby. The moment he does so, anger flares in cutting the trader's eyes to cold shards of steel.

"He so much as touches this wagon, or me, Snark here," the firelizard upon hearing his name peeks his head down from the top of the cupboard, "entertains the Weyr with the doings and the screwings of one of Whirlwind's elite." He threatens menacingly, keeping the mug curled against his chest. Only once he's sure Erissa understands that he has no compunction about carrying it out, does his mug bearing hand extend in her direction.

"All the sweep schedules," Goran reiterates. "And don't try to fuck me over. I'll know if they're real or not." How, he's not about to say.

Pale brows sweep lower at Goran's threat even as those long-buried emotions try to rear. Quickly focusing her thoughts before they spill outward to the dragon looming nearby she gives her chin a jerk that sways white-blond layers over one eye and darkens the glare that fixes on the trader.

"I've got him under control," she snaps, temper rising just enough to give her tongue a little more bite, ordering in a tone she knows he won't like, "So calm down." The second his hand moves the mug outward she reaches for it, though his clarification garners a sharp tightening of pretty features. "I don't have access to all of them."

"Be careful, dragonrider," Goran warns in the face of the tone Erissa takes with him. "Be very careful how you step from hereon in." Stated in a low growl of menace as he finally hands the mug over into her care. As for her return about the sweep schedules, his mouth twists about a sneer. "Then find a way to fix that! You're a pretty woman, I'm sure," there's that innuendo laden flow of gaze over her body again, "you can find a way to do that."

Erissa bites her tongue until she has the mug in hand, the fingers of both hands wrapping tightly around it as she brings it to her lips. Pausing at the last second she glances up to meet the fall of that lecherous gaze and smug comment.

“You’re a real ass, Goran.”

And then the tea. Finally! The taste is pleasant enough, though she knows now that the more familiar flavors are masking something sinister mixed in with the rest. It coats her throat and splashes into her stomach with a friendly enough warmth, but it only takes a few more deep drinks for the effects to start; a testament to how strong the addiction element has become. The headache eases into a dull pressure then dissipates completely, muscles relaxing until they buzz with a tantalizing tingle. Relieved of so much pain and anguish so quickly, fogged emotions sling-shot in the opposite direction on a cresting wave of euphoric proportions.

Pale lashes fall to dust flushed cheeks as she closes her eyes, swaying a fraction with the sensations dashing through her system. Full lips tremble slightly as she draws in a deep breath and slowly lets it out again, tongue then peeking out for a quick swipe to gather any lingering tea from her lips.

Watching with hooded eyes as Erissa begins to nurse the tea, knowing glints flecking his gaze as the signs of stress leaving her body start to show themselves, Goran snorts and turns to stash the used tea bag into a small ceramic pot. Later it’ll be dried and added to small pouches of tobacco, the narcotic hidden amongst the leaves of tea even stronger when smoked.

“You wound me,” the trader drawls pressing hand to chest. “Now drink your tea and get that lump of blue hide out of the area before someone comes asking questions.” Whatever other hedonistic intentions he might have had, shelved with the hulking presence of the dragon rather more attention than Goran would like.

Erissa downs the contents of the mug quickly, desperate to get it into her system before Goran makes any more demands. Hit with the usual emotional high as the drug’s signature tingling flourish washes through her she draws up a coy smile at the trader’s comment and dangles the mug from a finger crooked around the handle. Stepping close she inhales the strong scent that lingers about him; masculine musk sifted with hide and herbs, the nomadic life of a trader in olfactory form. Extending her arm to close the short gap between them she rolls the mug to lightly tap the solid plain of his chest where his hand had lain.

“Hmmm……” she purrs like a languid kitten - or a prowling wildcat, “Not worried are you, Goran? This is the weyr, after all. Why wouldn’t a dragon be around?” Pale lashes remain hooded over shadowed dark blue hues as she leans forward and reaches around to set the mug on the counter behind him, coming so close that not a breath could squeeze between them. She hesitates a moment, her chin near his shoulder, then takes a slow step backward.

Erissa boldly crowding his space sees the trader surveying her with a smirk and while he holds to stillness when she reaches around him to set her mug down, he strikes as fast as a tunnelsnake when she takes that step back again. Snapping an arm about her slender waist he jerks her back into him again, the smile he wears heavy with lusty intent.

“Not so fast, honey. I said for you to tell him to leave. I didn’t say you could.” For there’s still the matter of payment to be made for today’s tea high. “How about you show me just how grateful you are, hmm?” Is it possible he’ll allow her a modicum of control this time around?

Erissa sucks in a sharp breath when he yanks her back against his chest, both palms coming up to lie flat against very firm, very muscular, very tone pecs. Very nice. The grin that slowly shapes full lips is tantalizingly coy.

Pale lashes flutter upward briefly, dark hues catching a glimpse of cold, lustful steel and a flinch of warning flashes through the sensual mental fog that clouds her mind. Wasn’t she mad at him for something? It was…. important. Wasn’t it? She can’t quite remember with the distraction of his arm holding her snugly against him, his strong lean hips pressed to hers.

His possessive tone stirs a note of challenge in the feisty bluerider, whipping the whims of attraction and arousal into a dizzying rush that shoves all other concerns from her mind.

“I’m sure I already said thank you,” she tosses in a teasingly saucy reply.

A husky rumble of dark amusement resonates within Goran’s chest for the manner in which the stoned bluerider molds up against him and falls into coy mode. Her saucy remark earns her a slap of hand to shapely butt.

“Time to put your mouth where your gratitude is at,” the trader purrs pressing his hips forward while ducking his head to avail himself of the silky column of her neck.

A snap response to the slap has Erissa pushing against the trader, but of course that gets her no where. Instead he’s pressing his advantage and the purr of his voice stokes the fires of falsely conjured lust into an ill-fated inferno that burns hot and furious for a gloriously short time then leaves an empty husk behind to haunt her later.

Tilting her head the blond rider gives in to the demands of desire, the distant throes of mental alarms smothered and silenced.

Outside, Danorath’s pacing comes to a slow, grinding halt as his contact with Erissa settles into familiar hues of pleasure rather than the pain and anguish he’d sensed earlier. Something still isn’t right. He isn’t happy that she doesn’t come out. But she isn’t in danger from what he can tell with the limited access she’s left him. Ducking his head the blue strikes the ground with a hard snort, sending sand skittering in all directions, his eyes still lit with the bright hues of concern and worry. Settling down not far from the wagon he props his muzzle on curled paws, keeping his gaze trained on the trader’s home and vehicle.

She will emerge eventually.

And when she does, he will be ready to collect her.

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