Oh, just your mannerisms. I had an old friend. A man named Cid. He was quite carefree as you are; a bit of a joker as well.
[Jill refrains from mentioning that he's no longer with them, quickly dismissing the feelings of loss.]
Though it is a man named Clive who you remind me of most. He has been dear to me since we were children. [She chuckles quietly, a little embarrassed.] I only recently admitted my feelings to him. And... I suppose we both should have known, but he feels the same way.
[Again, she chuckles softly, certain recent memories coming back to the surface, enhancing the unknown effects of the sunscreen.
Okay. Settle down Jill, you're acting like a smitten teenager, she tells herself.
Listening intently, she tries to use Leon's words as a distraction from, whatever is going on to make her body feel so excited and warm. It couldn't be solely because she mentioned Clive?
It's definitely that kind of warmth, now that she thinks about it. Nodding along, she pictures Leon as a guard, instead of an outlaw. Or perhaps a Shield...
Oh no, that just makes it worse! By the Founder! What is wrong with her?!]
Like this...?
[She repeats, straining to picture this place without the blatant reminders of sex at every turn.
That's not helpful! Really not helpful! So she takes a breath to calm herself to be able to answer in return.
It does absolutely nothing. She reclasps her hands back in her lap, clasps them hard enough that her nails dig into the back of her hand. The pain provides another momentary deterrent from the impure thoughts swirling in her head and the ache beginning on her inner thighs.
Concentrate on home. Concentrate on anger instead.]
Where I hail from, Valasthea is a land where people flock to crystals as big as mountains, aptly named, 'Mothercrytals.' They bless the land with aether, providing sustenance to its people. They are cause for many a war as more and more land is being swallowed by the Blight, a phenomenon that strips it of it's aether.
My home, the only place I considered my real home, The Grand Duchy of Rosaria, is unfortunately no more. On a terrible night eighteen years ago, The Holy Empire of Sanbreque invaded, after the Grand Duchess Anabella betrayed us. There was to be a war between Rosaria and the Iron Kingdom over one of the Mothercrystals, and somehow, somehow they learned of it and struck first during the chaos of the Empire's attack. In doing so, they killed the men and took the women and children prisoner, including myself. And from then after, Rosaria was a province of the Empire, and I was a slave to the Ironbloods.
[Rage only gets her so far, especially when she thinks of what Anabella orchestrated for Clive.
Which, even the negative thoughts of him, again trigger that disconcerting feedback loop of arousal, and her skin flushes pink for reasons other than just the sunburn. The circuit makes her restless and she struggles to hold onto her refined disposition, crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs tight; but of course, to no avail.
It worsens, drawing out a few involuntary whines and as soon as the sounds leaves her lips, she clamps a hand over her mouth, gaze widening in mortification. Then, to make matters worse, soft pants soon follow, breaking through that as well.]
W... What is happening? I... I cannot control myself! I feel... I desire... I... I... pl-
[Jill grits her teeth to bite back the plea and swallows, silver eyes fixing on Leon; silently begging for something she wouldn't dare ask aloud.]
no subject
[Jill refrains from mentioning that he's no longer with them, quickly dismissing the feelings of loss.]
Though it is a man named Clive who you remind me of most. He has been dear to me since we were children. [She chuckles quietly, a little embarrassed.] I only recently admitted my feelings to him. And... I suppose we both should have known, but he feels the same way.
[Again, she chuckles softly, certain recent memories coming back to the surface, enhancing the unknown effects of the sunscreen.
Okay. Settle down Jill, you're acting like a smitten teenager, she tells herself.
Listening intently, she tries to use Leon's words as a distraction from, whatever is going on to make her body feel so excited and warm. It couldn't be solely because she mentioned Clive?
It's definitely that kind of warmth, now that she thinks about it. Nodding along, she pictures Leon as a guard, instead of an outlaw. Or perhaps a Shield...
Oh no, that just makes it worse! By the Founder! What is wrong with her?!]
Like this...?
[She repeats, straining to picture this place without the blatant reminders of sex at every turn.
That's not helpful! Really not helpful! So she takes a breath to calm herself to be able to answer in return.
It does absolutely nothing. She reclasps her hands back in her lap, clasps them hard enough that her nails dig into the back of her hand. The pain provides another momentary deterrent from the impure thoughts swirling in her head and the ache beginning on her inner thighs.
Concentrate on home. Concentrate on anger instead.]
Where I hail from, Valasthea is a land where people flock to crystals as big as mountains, aptly named, 'Mothercrytals.' They bless the land with aether, providing sustenance to its people. They are cause for many a war as more and more land is being swallowed by the Blight, a phenomenon that strips it of it's aether.
My home, the only place I considered my real home, The Grand Duchy of Rosaria, is unfortunately no more. On a terrible night eighteen years ago, The Holy Empire of Sanbreque invaded, after the Grand Duchess Anabella betrayed us. There was to be a war between Rosaria and the Iron Kingdom over one of the Mothercrystals, and somehow, somehow they learned of it and struck first during the chaos of the Empire's attack. In doing so, they killed the men and took the women and children prisoner, including myself. And from then after, Rosaria was a province of the Empire, and I was a slave to the Ironbloods.
[Rage only gets her so far, especially when she thinks of what Anabella orchestrated for Clive.
Which, even the negative thoughts of him, again trigger that disconcerting feedback loop of arousal, and her skin flushes pink for reasons other than just the sunburn. The circuit makes her restless and she struggles to hold onto her refined disposition, crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs tight; but of course, to no avail.
It worsens, drawing out a few involuntary whines and as soon as the sounds leaves her lips, she clamps a hand over her mouth, gaze widening in mortification. Then, to make matters worse, soft pants soon follow, breaking through that as well.]
W... What is happening? I... I cannot control myself! I feel... I desire... I... I... pl-
[Jill grits her teeth to bite back the plea and swallows, silver eyes fixing on Leon; silently begging for something she wouldn't dare ask aloud.]