maskormenacelogs | Homemade Stew.

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Homemade Stew.

WHO: Yenh Quryoja and Ysanne Isard (cameo by Emet-Selch)
WHERE: Nonah, in Yenh's backyard.
WHEN: Some weekend evening!
WHAT: Dinner and conversation between two people who met in a thrift store. then they kiss.
WARNINGS: Emet-selch; later on, a PG-13 seduction with a fade to black.

With her roommate gone to his favorite club for the evening, Yenh focuses on making dinner. She has few expectations for the night and for the woman she invited over, but Ysanne had been friendly and helpful. It can't hurt to get to know someone like that, regardless of where it may lead.

If she were in her usual position to be cooking for herself, she would be living off the land somewhere between towns and settlements. Since she is in the city and in no mood to make an all-day rural excursion, she chose to get ingredients from the farmer's market. The chunks of beef came from the local butcher, though she briefly considered hunting and dressing some pigeons.

Her text directions to Ysanne will lead her to a little two-story house in Nonah not far from the Porter, and then to head through the side gate into the backyard. Yenh's message used a fire emoji, a cartwheel emoji, and the pot of food emoji.

The backyard has two large trees at the far end, between which Yenh has set up a training dummy. The cookfire for her stew, however, she set up in the open space nearer toward the house. It's a decent campfire, methodically built and surrounded by stones. She has also set up a couple of folding chairs, and a cooler, which she is only using as a table for a pitcher of lemonade, a pair of drinking glasses, and the cookware she needs.

This is very much a casual-dress situation. The SHIRT BARN tee was, no question, the shirt of choice for this event. She is otherwise wearing khaki shorts and flip-flops. And the eyepatch. The stew quietly boils away, the pot dangling above the open flame. She hums tunelessly as she dumps a portion of chopped carrots in.

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Yenh smiles as she settles in closer. "It's a promise," she agrees, pleased also for a very stupid challenge to occupy her. She wonders if it would cheer Emet-Selch up to participate, or if it would be more like torture for him.

She refocuses as she takes in the story, snorting at the conclusion. It will have consequences, but mild ones. Yenh raises her eyebrows as she speaks. "I can show you where he keeps his slacks."

She smiles at that. It's rather enjoyable to have help.

"I think you're going to make a superb accomplice," she replied, reaching down to pick up what was left of her lemonade.

"The best part of it being, he can't be sure - really sure - it was us."

Of course, in the old days, she's always avoided such things by using decoys. Once people found what they thought they wanted to find, they tended to stop looking. Simple psychology was of great use, really.

Yenh nods in agreement, even if she is a hair uncertain that he might not have his suspicions. She shovels cold stew into her mouth. Not great. She could reheat it, but it's too late for this bite.

"He hangs them up in his closet—I'll clear the room before you enter. If he's set any traps, they're meant for me, so I may as well be the one to enjoy them," she says with a smile that suggests she would actually enjoy them.

That was the thing about suspicions. Uncertainy bred timid responses, or overreach. She was privy to an entire school of thought on the various benefits of being completely surreptitious, partly known, and flagrantly in the open.

She arches an eyebrow at that last.

"Later, then." She pauses, after that, casting a glance about as if to confirm he's actually gone and they won't be interrupted again. "But first, I think you had a question for me."

She is oddly tentative, for a woman of her nature. But with the interruption and everything else...she has to be sure she heard what she heard, and was right about its intent.

Yenh decides that fixing up the rest of her dinner can wait. "Mayhap more of a proposition than a question. I don't wish to overstep, as I do so enjoy companionship in all its forms. This is enough for me, if naught else."

After a broad sweeping gesture to the cookpot and where they sit, she leans her weight forward against her elbows and knees. Her eyebrows arch as her voice drops, and she captures Ysanne's gaze directly with hers. "But if you're interested in the sort of companionship one usually relegates to the bedchamber, I'd be happy to entertain you."

And ah, there it is. For a moment, her mind focuses on the fact that she was right, but then it all goes a little bit sideways. She feels a sort of warmth in her face, a pressure in the ears.

"I..." she begins, and then stops again, clearly flustered. It is not, in any way, an act. "I think that may be the first time anyone has offered because they wished to, and did not see some advantage to it."

How can she summarize a lifetime that has led to what she is feeling? Is there even any point?

"I need you to understand a few things. About me. I am not...casual, as a person. I would not treat you as a mere dalliance. I find you intriguing, for reasons I am only just learning how to describe. I also want it very clear I never intended coming here for anything more than stew and some friendship. This was not a thing to be planned."

She wants - needs - her to understand that she would not manipulate her. But there's no words for her to explain that everything else in her life has been tainted, often by her own hands, by machination.

"I believe I am rambling," she adds, with slight displeasure at herself. "Or delaying. I'm not sure what I will want right now. But I wish to explore this. As far as it goes."

The fluster is as charming as it is unexpected. Nor was she expecting to hear that Ysanne to express worries that Yenh would feel used. She, the weapon of Light. It's touching. The lovers she usually takes are the sort who jump at the chance based more on her accomplishments and fame, and did not generally mind the lack of strings attached to the arrangement. Some of them might also be spies, but that's why she doesn't literally sleep alongside the majority of them. Knowing Ysanne is one right out the gate helps keep things honest.

"Ysanne, I believe I understand, but you have nothing to worry about for my sake. If anything, I'm the one who should be reassuring you. I live as passionately as I fight, which can be a bit much for some," she says as she lays a hand atop Ysanne's knee. "I'm simply happy to see where the moment takes us—if anywhere at all."

She comes from a world where power means everything, where every move, every relationship was about domination or manipulation. She will have one good, uncorrupted thing in her life, even if she has to chain a lifetime's worth of paranoid instincts to the wall.

But then it's her turn to be a little bit touched. Of course, Yenh can't know that she would train herself in hand-to-hand combat against Royal Guards to take the edge off her day. Or the mountainful of passion - mostly, of course, used for dark designs - underneath the icy control. Her eyes really are appropriate. One cold, the other fire.

Her own hand trails over Yenh's, a soft tone coming to her throat.

"Your...zest, your eagerness, that energy...is why 'interested' is such an appropriate word for tonight," she replies. "I promise you, you will get as good as you give."

"That's what I like to hear. A spirited challenge," Yenh rejoins in a softly lilting tone, her eyelids edging lower with her suggestion. The invasive thought comes to her that this happened because Emet-Selch pushed the subject, but she kicks that thought out and slams the door before she's thinking about her frenemy at a time like this.

Her other hand strays up to Ysanne's jaw, fingers just slipping into her hairline and thumb gracing her cheek. With a gentle touch, she suggests she comes closer. "Should the subject happen to arise, my fangs are a tad sharp."

If asked, she would most likely quip that when the snowball was already on the way down the mountain, giving it a push only sped thing up a bit. For her, circumstance was always midwife to change. For once, one she could enjoy.

She leaned into the touch, her own hand trailing up the back of Yenh's neck, into her hair and up behind her ears.

"Well now I'm just curious," she replied, teasingly. "And I'm tougher than I look," she said, by way of reassurance. And also by way of strong hint.

If the dam was going to crack, it might as well burst, after all.

Yenh, as a miqo'te, is much more of a lioness than a house cat—and more of a roarer than a purrer. Which does not stop Ysanne's touch, at the right spot behind her ears, from earning an appreciative hum.

"Further good news," Yenh murmurs as she takes the hint and draws Ysanne in close. Close enough to kiss her. Her lips are a bit chapped, but she is nonetheless soft, warm, and rather reserved. It is brief, capped with a smile and another hum—this one intoned as an unspoken question regarding whether it was still alright.

All facts that Isard will undoubtedly quite enjoy learning, come the moment.

The kiss is, in its way, perfect. An introduction, as it were - like the sound of an orchestra tuning up. Beautiful, but a mere hint of what was to come. And part of her, the part now rapidly being consigned to the role of mere observer for later remembrance, appreciates the subtlety of it.

The core of her is the one that moves next, lips seeking out Yenh's again, pressing against hers with an answering growl, deep in her throat. An answer very clearly given.

A flush of warmth washes through her at the clear 'yes.' Not wasting further time with being coy, Yenh abandons her chair in favor of closing the distance. The hand on Ysanne's knee draws up so the fingertips trace the top of her leg along her progress to wrap that hand to her waist.

Yenh is then as close as can be without fully climbing into her lap, lips capturing Ysanne's amid the odd playful lick or nibble.

It could be freezing outside, and she wouldn't notice it right now. There was too much sensation, too much delight to occupy her mind. If she had a spare moment, she'd compliment Yenh on her ability to focus a mind that usually worked on several layers at any given time.

But there's more important things to work on, like responding. Most of all, responding. Her teeth playfully catch Yenh's lower lip, trying to learn the rules of this new and wonderful reality, her free hand making its way to Yenh's hip, squeezing gently.

Her fears and reticence are now becoming vanishingly small. Intimacy has been gone from her life for a very, very long time - and it has never been untainted before.

The snatch of teeth wins a pleased gasp. Yenh is no stranger to pain—her relationship with it has become as such that she's emboldened and energized by the playful nip. That, and the hand on her hip, encourage her to perch in Ysanne's lap, side-straddled and eager.

Her standards for 'rough' are miscalibrated from a decade of living as the instrument of her goddess' will. She also knows how to go easy on other people who don't live as hard as she has (until recently). Mindful not to push too hard or too fast in either the painful or the pleasurable direction, she tangles her fingers into Ysanne's hair and draws her in deeper with nips at her lips with her flatter teeth. They're interspersed with softer presses of her lips to the corners of her mouth.

She is warm.

That simple fact is enough to bring a smile to busily-employed lips, to say nothing of the fingers running through her hair or the nips. It's so new, all of it. To not pretend at passion, to simply revel in sensation.

Every little variation is new, even if it isn't - and her responses are eager and curious. She pulls Yenh tight against her, arms wrapping around her waist before hands begin to work along her back, enjoying the feeling of warmth, the contours of her form.

Spurred on by Ysanne's eagerness, she follows her giddy impulse to press Ysanne against the back of the folding chair. Thanks to the skirt, she has to pull her legs up into Ysanne's lap. Which she does not mind.

Her tail curls loosely down along Ysanne's legs as her lips, hot and eager, travel a path from her mouth, to her jaw, then to her ear. Hair swept out of the way, Yenh gives the lobe a few soft kisses as a short prelude to tugging with her lips.

All to the better, as one of her hands can chart a brief exploration of Yenh's entire length from shoulder to hip to knee, enjoying the thrill of new discovery. Warm, soft, but with such strength beyond. Wonderful.

"Mmmph," is the only articulation she manages, shivering slightly. Her other hand still works in Yenh's hair, tracing nonsense patterns, and on her lips there is a rather eager grin.

Ysanne's explorations also turn up a happy humming sigh from Yenh, along with a tiny tremor in her tail as her hand traces across more sensitive flesh beneath the clothing.

"We could head inside," Yenh suggests, lips brushing directly against her ear and fingers rubbing in a slow procession up and down her side. "In case we make more noise," she adds, by way of both seduction and of explanation and as if it was remotely necessary to clarify.

She is still busy noting every place where her touch elicits a reaction for later reference when Yenh's voice pierces the happy haze.

The blood pounds through her at the former, and she feels a new feeling - a sort of pit in her chest, and for a moment there is uncertainty. Not about wanting this - the want is there, not just for such a moment, but to explore everywhere this woman can take her - but this is still new.

Sex isn't an issue. That's just a thing. But to make love, truly? That, at least, will be a first for her. For a brief second, there is hesitation. To dive in or to wait, to be cautious. The last gasp of the tactical mind mounts its final offensive, suggesting that, at the least, it will allow things to age like a wine.

Then Yenh says the other part, and that last charge meets the mass of Ysanne's wants and needs heading the other way. The outcome is never really in doubt.

Her first response is to capture Yenh's lips again, fingertips working through the hair at the back of her neck. The kiss itself has no hesitation, no restraint - it is a whole woman giving it her all. And she makes it last. Finally, after a long moment, she pulls back to whisper against her lips.

"Probably...for the best. You're likely to get quite loud." Decision made, and a bold promise to be kept.

Edited 2020-06-24 22:16 (UTC)

She gasps and squirms at the sudden ferocity of the kiss, but she is not one to be overcome for long. Yenh gives what she receives with no pretense keeping her from being especially curious and grabby. Her heart and body burn with eagerness to get to know Ysanne like this. The mere promise of what the evening will have in store for the both of them is galvanizing. She is not shy enough about noise that she kept herself from betraying a few more places of note to Ysanne.

When the kiss breaks, she exhales warmly. "I don't intend to make it a competition," Yenh murmurs, deep and gravelly, "But I believe that is my line."

With a playful nip to her bottom lip, she slips backward from Ysanne's lap. The pencil skirt is horribly inconvenient, but the pumps are worse. Yenh kicks them off in random directions across the yard. One makes the distinct sound of landing in foliage.

With that, she's regained a semblance of her normal gait. The little extra sway wouldn't go amiss, she had to admit.

"We can do both," she replies, her face all smiles, "there's time."

She'll make the time, if she has to. She stands languidly, smoothly, feeling rather electric, inside. She's all nerves, in good ways. She also feels very sensual. She has always had confidence in herself, but this is a new sort, a new certainty.

And she enjoys, greatly, every last bit of that sway. Her hands reaching up, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and giving it a thourough shake, leaving it just a little bit wild. It feels like her mood.

She hums a half-remembered tune to herself, watching those hips in that skirt with a great deal of enjoyment. It's all possibilities now, all adventure. And her.

"You're right," she agrees, smirking at her as she tosses the pail of water onto the fire. With a hiss, the backyard drops into darkness—other than the dim porch light, which is being orbited by a persistent moth.

She rejoins Ysanne's side and leans in to presses another soft kiss to to her lips. Her hand lands on her lower back, and as she breaks the kiss, she also begins lightly guiding her toward the house. Gazing up at her with heat in her eyes and giddiness in her step, Yenh allows her fingers to lightly knead at her back.

They should certainly have a few hours before Emet-Selch returns home. A lot can happen in a few hours, and Yenh intends them both to find out precisely what.

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Homemade Stew.

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