Lucyfer
Said you'd die for me, well -- there's the ground
The Khal assumed the woman’s orientation bent towards other women with her comments. A woman certainly knew better what a woman wanted, than a boy. He hardly considered the connotation meant she was looking for a ‘man’ until she cleared it up, stating that was indeed the case as she floated upon her back, leaving herself visible to the moon goddess above who seemed to adore pouring her silvery light upon the fair skin.
He almost barked a laugh at her words. If she hadn’t told him how she’d killed the previous man with his braid, after the man had worn himself out with her, he may have very well believed that. The flirtatious undertones were not ignored, but Khal was not a man to be played. He was a predator, of course – and she was enticing prey – but to follow along after her and pursue now gave her far too much presumed power.
Besides, if she was lying, he hardly had any desire to fight off the woman right then and kill her for the deception. He ought to give her some time to learn a bit about the khalasar before ending her career so early by her attempted murder of him.
He did watch her leave, and snorted at her comment, “Many have seen my body – many have liked it,” he said right back, “in the Dothraki, we do things out in the open, before our gods,” he noted to her, and then added a sly smile, “perhaps you are more like us than even you realize,” she was being so open with herself, after all, showing so much.
She may indeed become a good part of the khalasar.
Perhaps it would also help to explain why he was not as bothered as some boys would have been by her form. The feminine form was no mystery to him, nor the acts one could do to it. His men were also not unaccustomed to it, but they were more inclined to take a woman not part of the khalasar against her will. She did not yet have her place here, and so was at risk – but if she kept acting in such a way, soon the others would become used to it, and accept her as one of them.
The visual of her clothes clinging to her was a good one, and he made a note of it, before he would resume his own cleansing. He came there with a purpose, after all.
And he wanted his prey to linger on thoughts of him right then. He would pursue. But he would not be controlled into pursuing. He was already making up his plans of how to manage such a move, and considered the next morning could be good, when she would likely be frustrated over the fact he had not come after her and dwelling on it, thinking he did not want her.
He smiled to himself and eventually, finished with his routine and went back to join the khalasar, dressing once more.
~***~
The Bolton Lady had no problems sharing she had weapons, and chuckled at Jaime’s assessment, “You could, perhaps, if you only knew where they were,” she may have revealed she had weapons, but not what they were, or where they were on her person. Jaime could not do as much as he would have liked without knowing that information.
She was unaware of how strange please was for Jaime, though she would admit he seemed a bit nicer at that moment. Perhaps the thrill of a potential fight, and a novelty, was enough.
She answered his query, “With me, I have two daggers I can hide, two daggers that masquerade as hair sticks, my two short swords, a boot dagger, my bow, and a quiver of arrows,” she had more besides at the Dreadfort, though not too many more, “I tend to stick to blades and the bow, rather than anything else, and shorter ones at that,” but also paired weapons. Strength was not her strong point and she didn’t intend to try and pretend it was.
She had speed, and she had two hands – she had learned to become ambidextrous earlier in life. “And what of you, Ser? Do you only have that single sword, or are you skilled with other weapons besides?” She asked as the Tower came into sight, with the Northern guards at its post, rather than any belonging to His Grace, Robert, himself.
He almost barked a laugh at her words. If she hadn’t told him how she’d killed the previous man with his braid, after the man had worn himself out with her, he may have very well believed that. The flirtatious undertones were not ignored, but Khal was not a man to be played. He was a predator, of course – and she was enticing prey – but to follow along after her and pursue now gave her far too much presumed power.
Besides, if she was lying, he hardly had any desire to fight off the woman right then and kill her for the deception. He ought to give her some time to learn a bit about the khalasar before ending her career so early by her attempted murder of him.
He did watch her leave, and snorted at her comment, “Many have seen my body – many have liked it,” he said right back, “in the Dothraki, we do things out in the open, before our gods,” he noted to her, and then added a sly smile, “perhaps you are more like us than even you realize,” she was being so open with herself, after all, showing so much.
She may indeed become a good part of the khalasar.
Perhaps it would also help to explain why he was not as bothered as some boys would have been by her form. The feminine form was no mystery to him, nor the acts one could do to it. His men were also not unaccustomed to it, but they were more inclined to take a woman not part of the khalasar against her will. She did not yet have her place here, and so was at risk – but if she kept acting in such a way, soon the others would become used to it, and accept her as one of them.
The visual of her clothes clinging to her was a good one, and he made a note of it, before he would resume his own cleansing. He came there with a purpose, after all.
And he wanted his prey to linger on thoughts of him right then. He would pursue. But he would not be controlled into pursuing. He was already making up his plans of how to manage such a move, and considered the next morning could be good, when she would likely be frustrated over the fact he had not come after her and dwelling on it, thinking he did not want her.
He smiled to himself and eventually, finished with his routine and went back to join the khalasar, dressing once more.
~***~
The Bolton Lady had no problems sharing she had weapons, and chuckled at Jaime’s assessment, “You could, perhaps, if you only knew where they were,” she may have revealed she had weapons, but not what they were, or where they were on her person. Jaime could not do as much as he would have liked without knowing that information.
She was unaware of how strange please was for Jaime, though she would admit he seemed a bit nicer at that moment. Perhaps the thrill of a potential fight, and a novelty, was enough.
She answered his query, “With me, I have two daggers I can hide, two daggers that masquerade as hair sticks, my two short swords, a boot dagger, my bow, and a quiver of arrows,” she had more besides at the Dreadfort, though not too many more, “I tend to stick to blades and the bow, rather than anything else, and shorter ones at that,” but also paired weapons. Strength was not her strong point and she didn’t intend to try and pretend it was.
She had speed, and she had two hands – she had learned to become ambidextrous earlier in life. “And what of you, Ser? Do you only have that single sword, or are you skilled with other weapons besides?” She asked as the Tower came into sight, with the Northern guards at its post, rather than any belonging to His Grace, Robert, himself.
