Lock it Away and Never look Back {MUD}

[Purl Innamorata]

Oh how one could love the Royal Circle. A place of plush living and beautiful sites along with the company of those who hold power. Young Purl was among those who loved the Royal Circle in all her glory. Seeing those in power, flirting with those in power and even if she were lucky and the gods had twisted fate in her favor sleeping with someone in power. This was how the white tigress lived. She was young and beautiful as many of youth are and men for their reasons seem drawn to them. Purl Innamorata was like a candle in a dark night, men were drawn to her like moths. She worked this to her advantage with those who hold power because those who hold power, hold much wealth. How else could Purl afford her dance wear with out all those willing men spilling their ivory before her?

Elke Circle was different. There were no people in power walking down the streets and no men graced with wealth. So what possibly could draw a woman like this to a place of trees and forest? One word explains it all. Dance. Purl is a dancer and Elke Circle is the dancer's land. Their bazaar is known by all around as the place to find the best entertainers and so this is where on a warm summer night Purl Innamorata found herself.

Her dance wear gleamed in the bright fire light from the many fires all around perfectly illuminating her dance floor. The polished dark wood cuffs around her ankles with antler around them that when moved made a rattling sound were wore around all four of her wrists and ankles. A band like those on her legs also clung to the tip of her tail but it was much smaller and only held a large round hollow ball of antler with many smaller balls of bone inside it so when she flicker her tail it made a sound. All of these when she danced made music and this was how she danced. Accompanied by drums Purl would move and twist in ways of dance but she would also be making a sound that was sensual and hypnotic. When she danced Purl wore only one other thing. A head dress made on dark wood which was light and rested to sit atop her head. It was a branch of three prongs, the ones to the sides curled down to grip just under her ears curling around them a bit while a center branch came forward to hold a medallion just above the center of her eyes. A medallion of bone graced with the sign of the goddess on its face. It was a gracious dancers attire but after years of mooching off men she had completed it.

Mostly men crowded around her large circle with only a pole in the center topped with a torch of fire. Spirit was being past around and the white dancer would not deny having her share of it bringing fire to her veins. Standing in front of the pole her tail to it she stood motionless her eyes closed. With a flick of her tail giving a sound like a maraca three cats began to play a steady simple beat on the drums which was almost like that of a heart beat. For three beats of her tail flicking along with the beat of the drums Purl was still until she moved a wrist forward making no sound and the dance begun. Her eyes sprang open and the dance became something not for the eyes of cubs as she twisted her body and moved around the circle stamping her paws to make sound and raise dirt into the air. As the dance went on the beat got faster as did her movements until at its height Purls ran to the pole and jumped digging her claws into the wood a good five feet up before slowly letting herself slide down until her back paws were setting on earth but her front claws still dug deep into the wood. Arching her head back she closed her eyes and ran her claws down until all four paw pads once again touched soft dirt beaten by many paws of dancers. The beat was now slow ever slowly moving faster, created by the drums and Purl her self. Walking around the edges of the circle she met the eyes off many men but stopped when meeting the yellow eyes of a light maned lion and with two loud pounds on the drums and shakes of the rattles on her the white tigress moved forward to caress her cheek against the large males then dip her head under his chin.

Moving under him she arched her entire body to make contact with the soft under side of his jaw before her tail finally wrapped around his muzzle as she began walking away. A smile on her lips and a drunken gleam in her eyes her hips swayed as if she were still dancing while she walked away just teasing the hansom male. With a roar he pounced forward onto her pushing her onto her back when he jumped. Hovering over her he growled then leaning down giving her neck a soft lick. Giggling softly in a bit of a shaken voice as if he had really scared her Purl wrapped her paws gentle around his mane and licked an ear while his giant paws wrapped possessively around her while his tongue began grooming the thick fur on her chest.

His actions may have been aggressive but tonight everyone was drunk and Purl had dealt with more violent males. She knew exactly where this was leading and smirked as she in returned began grooming his ears and forehead. She liked men who enjoyed a bit of foreplay.

OOC;This song was the inspiration for her sound when she danced and I listened to it the entire time I wrote this lol.

[Sicario Innamorata]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=height,353,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,background-image: url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2eluhxz.jpg);,true] Watch my moves! Read my mind! "Hear my voice!" The banging sound of playing drums pounded it's rhythm in his mind. Accompanied by the stamping of seductive feet and the roar of a crowd of males with one thing on their mind, it all created a chorus of debauchery. It only barely grated on Sicario's nerves. He simply wasn't in the mood for these foolish antics. It would come back on them eventually, he supposed. It wouldn't be long before the silvery pelted tramp was taken advantage of. Even if she could take care of her own defense, not likely she could keep it up long before a particularly fertile male became the father of her unwanted cubs. Thoughts of the common, lesser known means of taking care of such a... problem brought his blood to a boil just before he pushed them aside. He wasn't supposed to be in this particular part of the circle long. He was simply here for a small business deal, a quiet exchange. Of course, one of the innumerable provocative dancers of Elke had to stage a performance right here, right now, didn't she? Sicario stood a few yard away from the circle of admirers and burning flames of passion. The one had come to meet was late, as expected. Sicario's clients were always so paranoid when it came to this part. He supposed it was from the stress of knowing that, indirectly, they had killed a man. They were puppet masters pulling the strings of death. Couldn't be an easy fact to live with at first, for most. "Hello, Mr. Innamorata," a voice called from the shadow before him. Most would have been hopelessly startled by the mysterious appearance, but Sicario only calmly brought his gaze to rest upon the faint form in the darkness to which he spoke. "Hello. I've no time for pleasentries. I assume you brought payment, in full?" "Of course!" The darkness brusquely replied, sounding even more impatient than Sicario himself. So ironic, wasn't it? The one with the real blood still dried on his paws stood the picture of calm, whilst the one paying him was about to peel out of his own pelt. "Alright, well then let's finish this, shall we?" He stepped into the shadow's space as he spoke, looking expectant. "Whoa whoa whoa, wait! How do I know he's- ...that it's done?" This was growing tiring. This leopard, as Sicario had guessed from the blurred glances in the darkness, was drawing the exact attention he so desperately wanted to avoid. His neck craned left and right with such a demanding rhythm Sicario wondered if his head wouldn't simply tumble from his shoulders. For a brief moment he felt thankful for the dancer's distraction, keeping eyes off of the awkward exchange. "If there's anything in this life I value, it's my client's confidence," he spoke like a true businessman, calm and collected, and full of assurance. A flicked of his tail and a claw, still fresh with the muscle of the toe in place, landed in his paw. Sicario let it roll around a bit on the pad of his forepaw, before he quickly flipped it onto the ground where it sat beneath his foot. "You expect me to believe that's the claw of my brother? That could be from any body of any feline, or even some other creature! That's it, you aren't getting a single cold Ivory from me! You're a sham, a hack, a fraud!" Sicario stepped into the darkness, cloaking his entire black form in shadow, to hold his powerful skull only inches from the accuser. "Your brother had a scar, I would guess around five years old, running from his chin to the top of his shoulder blade. How do I know this? Because I saw it as I snuck behind him to slice my claws into his throat. You'd be wise to know how to spot a real fraud from a real killer. Getting the two confused, and being so brash about it, could get you in trouble, Sir." Cold silver eyes stared into the leopard's skull, carrying the ghost of death with them into his mind. His face went blank with shock, nothing but shock. Moments passed before horror seeped into his eyes, but he quickly averted his gaze to the ground at his feet as he spoke. "He got that scar when he was just a yearling. It was the only clean swipe I ever managed to land on him." Neither of them spoke again after that. The leopard brushed fifty pieces of Ivory into the light at Sicario's paws, and then slowly turned back to walk along the back side of the bazaar. Sicario was almost envious, as his own path would lead him just past the spectacle nearby. He carefully collected his payment in his jaws. I most definitely need to get something to carry these troublesome pieces in, he thought, as his mouth filled with the precious trinkets. He left the claw where it lay, to rot in that very spot, or be blown away with the wind he supposed. The circle of spectators was thinning dramatically as Sicario approached. The show must have been ending. As he expected, a new show was beginning, the likes of which would soon be brought to a more discreet location, or so he hoped. A brute of a lion had leaped upon the dancer. The two twined together, licking and stroking as they blew dust into the air. Sicario's pace subconsciously quickened to pass them. He had to interest in seeing the likes of them have their fleeting pleasures out in the open. The lack of respect for the eyes of others was insulting, if nothing else. Nevermind that the female would likely be making all kinds of harrowing cries soon, nothing that he wanted shattering his peaceful evening.