Dragon's Consequence

Tales of Jaycynda Ashleana and her associates.

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Jaycy Ashleana
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Dragon's Consequence

Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

It was with an unsettled frown that the redhead emerged from her office at the Outback. Had she been there all night? It was definitely possible, given the weariness and still ruined jersey that clung to her shoulders and hung down the front, missing a wide panel in the back. Missing though were both the wings and protective scales she'd exhibited last night.

The sunken set of her shoulders, too, hinted at her exhaustion and possible overexertion the night before. She'd attacked a man, a patron no less. Here. In the Outback. That frown deepened as she made her way to the back room, strides purposeful as she sought materials to patch the hole the gun made the night before.

It was several minutes before she reemerged from the back room burdened with a full basket under one arm; spackle, paint, brush, blade... all necessary ingredients for the fix. In her grasp, as well, a step stool. While it only had a few steps, it should be enough to reach the blemish on the wall to fix it. Padding to where the practice dummy had been, she set her tools down on a nearby table and opened the stool, settling the leading feet directly against the wall to provide support.

It'd started out normally enough; Bailey's match, work, quiet ... and then suddenly a gun shot. Wait, what. Of course she'd gone out to investigate. Okay, she might have yelled a little too. That was a natural reaction, go out and stop people from destroying the building again. Goodness knew that had happened enough times bef -- why hadn't they contracted with a mage to spell it and make it self-repairing yet?!

She shoved that thought away to return to it at another time.

Retrieving both spackle and knife, she lifted the top and settled that on the table before turning to ascend the two steps. At least the nice thing about single bullet holes was that it was a small surface area to fix, right? Just a dab would work and it was even quick-drying so she wouldn't have to be out here for very long! Digging the edge of the knife into the putty she drew out a small bit and extended her hand upward. It was just low enough that she could reach.

That was when things had gotten ... concerning. The man, Phil, hadn't been the least concerned about the damage to the Outback - "If they've got a problem with it they can bill me for it.” - and then had the gall to kick the dummy's head toward her. She might have overreacted by saying she was going to kick his ass when he missed. Mayhap just a little. In her more lucid moments now, the next day, she could almost understand why he'd leveled his guns at her.

She pushed the dab of spackle into the hole before using the knife to smooth it out, pushing up from below to ensure the surface was even with the rest of the wall. The redhead took a few more passes before climbing down; she knew she had to wait for a few minutes before she could paint over the spot. With a sigh, she returned to the basket and replaced the lid on the container before putting it away again. From there, she headed for the sink so that she could clean the spackling knife, holding it under running water and using a clean rag to wipe it off.

She'd seen red and the shift had been instantaneous. So had the attempt to attack him. Wings and scales sprouted from her form and she'd lunged at him; how dare he. A combination of magic and physical assault had left the man bruised and bloodied (nevermind at least one wound was self-inflicted). That itself was worrisome, but perhaps worst were her parting words when she felt the message had been conveyed; don't shoot things in my Outback.

Her Outback? Shaking her head, she dried the knife and returned the tool to the basket, easing into a seat to wait out the drying period. Legs, short as they were, stretched out in front of her so she could cross them at the ankles, and fingers twined on her lap. Aye, she was currently the Diamond and aye, she worked there and aye, it had been as much home as other places in her years here, but ... her Outback? No, she didn't own it nor was she the sole arbiter of its use (or misuse) or even its only (or rightful) guardian.

No, she'd gone well beyond the bounds of appropriate and here, in the harsh tone of daylight, she knew it. She'd become blind to everything but might and power in that moment and had cared only for the maintenance of her possession. Much ... aye, she had to admit it. Much like a dragon. Tass had warned her about dragons and hoards and she'd claimed it'd not take her, that she'd not lose herself to the baser instincts. After all, she wasn't born dragon but rather made.

But it seemed that didn't really matter.

Dire thoughts drifted inexorably to the blonde and their relationship. Jaycy didn't hoard her in the sense that Tass worried over; she could share time and love of Hope with others. But if she were being honest...

She coveted Hope; she wanted her for forever. She'd had designs and thoughts that mayhap PathFinder could make the blonde as much dragon as it had her (for it was largely PathFinder's doing that had brought draconic blood into her veins and soul-bonded her with Pslyder) and that she could be with the woman for centuries. Hope, after all, had been her choice to love, had been as much savior as Mart had been in her return. She'd clung to the blonde, become hers (so very willingly) and loved deeply and desperately.

That had borne out in the last several months. Aye, the games in the Arena were just games but with every threat to the blonde as Overlady, true or illusory, Jaycy had responded in kind - or more than kind. Those efforts had been successful in the frame of Hope was still Overlord, but... was this, in the end, healthy?

Perhaps not.

Wet clung to the corners of her eyes as the internal clock alerted her that the spot was likely ready to paint. Rather than take the entire jar over (and risk spilling it and causing way more damage than the bullet had), Jaycy opened the paint can and stirred the liquid with the brush's bristles. Several quick turns and the emulsion was ready. She dipped the brush straight in and then ran it against the edge of the can to remove extra. Once prepared, she returned to the stool and climbed it, softly brushing over the now-dry paste.

Quick work, seconds later, and she was done and closing paint can and washing out the brush. Everything went back into the basket and she delivered it to the back room, coming out in much less time this second pass than before and making tracks for her office once more.

There might come a day when she wouldn't be able to control herself when it came to Hope Naharis, a day when she might guard the blonde's time so zealously that she would lose her in a million painful ways. There might be a time where she became desperate enough to force a change on her and keep the blonde with her unwilling; at least until now she could say she'd never attempt such a thing without full and knowing consent. But who could say for the future.

The day hadn't come yet, but the Dragon might still win. Mayhap it was better to return to Psly now; they had a family, children, and the larger excuse for her continued residency in the City - the protection of that family from the war of the siblings - hadn't manifested beyond the slowest of simmers. She could claim the governorship kept her within city bounds but really, when she could teleport anywhere in the blink of an eye...

Mayhap leaving was the best protection she could provide Hope, from the greatest threat. Herself.

The office door clicked shut softly behind her.
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Re: Dragon's Consequence

Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

March 24th

The office door had been left open after the redhead's meeting with Ariana, and until now there had generally been quiet. However, eventually ... late tonight, soft strains begin to waft through the office and into the main room of the Outback itself.

I wish that this night would never be over
There's plenty of time to sleep when we die


Guitar strumming began soft before picking up volume, speed as the the song took hold.

So let's just stay awake until we grow older
If I had my way, we'd never close our eyes, our eyes, never


She'd last sung this song in a magical night in Rome with the woman who'd come to dominate so much of her thoughts and time ... the woman she traditionally shared this office with, no less. It'd been very early in their relationship, only a night or two before the blonde had challenged and become Overlord.

She let the beat take over, sometimes lightly tapping the body of the instrument in time with her bouncing foot.

I don't wanna let a minute get away
'Cause we got no time to lose
None of us are promised to see tomorrow
And what we do is ours to choose


Head bobbed lightly as she began to get lost in the music, the words and dreams behind it. The talk with Tass a few nights ago had turned her mind to this song, to that night, and to those simpler times where she was carefree and knew better than now that time was fleeting and it would be impossible to stop it. Even for love.

Forget about the sunrise
Fight the sleep in your eyes
I don't wanna miss a second with you
Let's stay this way forever
It's only getting better if we want it to


The beat sped, lightly swatting the guitar swifter. Tass was right, wanting to turn her wasn't the answer - even if Hope were to consent to it. It'd only cause the blonde to eventually wage the same internal war he'd - and now she'd - faced. Why would she put either of them through that?

"Find happiness. Don't change her.”

She'd thought stepping back was the answer, that moving out of the blonde's home would help return enough perspective that she could manage with the inevitable loss.

You know that I wish that this night would never be over
There's plenty of time to sleep when we die
So let's just stay awake until we grow older
If I had my way, we'd never close our eyes, our eyes, never


But really, when she'd made it home and pulled the blonde to her and wrapped her arm around Hope so tight it'd caused her to fidget and Jaycy to stroke her hair until she resettled, the redhead knew that she'd never be able to achieve the distance even if she moved physically away.

It's so hard to think this could fade away
But what goes up must come down
Why can't we just live life with no consequence?
And always live in the now


Why not? Why not just ... do that? A slim jade band (with a very particular shade of green) on her right hand touched against the body of her instrument as she kept the beat, repeating the verse, humming instead of singing. Strong chords pushed the music into the Outback's common room, filling it with the acoustic sound.

Forget about the sunrise
Fight the sleep in your eyes
I don't wanna miss a second with you
Let's stay this way forever
It's only getting better if we want it to


I don't wanna miss a second with you. Psly would understand, right? Aye, especially when they had centuries together and the woman likely... didn't. Psly, of course, was a complication. Not a bad problem, but... she had to admit, it was strange seeing both him and Hope in the same space - at her challenge, no less! As much as she'd been thrilled, no small part of her wanted to find time in that skybox.

You know that I wish that this night would never be over
There's plenty of time to sleep when we die
So let's just stay awake until we grow older
If I had my way, we'd never close our eyes, our eyes, never


Plenty of time to sleep when she dies...

"Find happiness.”

The music abruptly stopped at flesh smacked onto the strings, turning to a small hiss as her skin slid along it. A soft plufh failed to pass the doorway as the woman within set down the guitar and picked up her phone instead. Swiftly unlocking it, she sent a text.

Marry me. I know it's crazy, I know you'll say no, I know I shouldn't be asking but I am anyway. But I don't want to miss a second with you while you're here. I want to always be yours. I want to marry you.

A chair scraped against the ground and then a moment later the redhead came briefly into view of the empty Outback... and the door shut.

(( Song is Never Close Our Eyes (Adam Lambert), snippets of conversation taken from play with Tass! ))
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Re: Dragon's Consequence (mild language)

Post by Jaycy Ashleana »

March 19

Hands wrung, clinging close in their entanglement as the redhead paced the marble floor of her suite at the Palace of Pleasures. One, two, three, turn, and one, two, three back again. An appointment made discreetly was perfect here, this paragon of privacy, yet she still remained unnerved by the whole affair. She wasn’t sure wh -- no, she knew why. This appointment symbolized the inevitability of the fatal blow in her relationship with Hope Naharis.

Unwinding her hands, she allowed them to drop and hang limply for a moment before she sank to her knees, shrinking to the cold, unyielding stone. Arms crossed her stomach and she folded protectively over them, her single red braid dipping to the floor over her right shoulder. Instantly, her mind’s eye sped to a night long past, a moment where time had frozen and they, inundated by green butterflies, had made peace and pledges and whispered rumbles of love and want.

Pain had tainted that night, begun with a challenge queue to rid herself of ShadoWeaver, the hellish Black Opal that’d tried to alienate Jaycy from her closest allies and paramours. The hurt cast a few nights previous seeped deep, festering and sodden and heavy in her gut and sent her to the sands before Hope’s split-level house in Dockside in this very position.

"What do you want, Hope? What do you want from me right now?" she’d asked, pained with the insincerity of quick apologies and accidental self-inflicted wounds.

You.

This wasn’t a murmured, sweet word but rather a ragged, choked out confession that shook Jaycy’s head in denial, bawled though it was. No, no she didn’t want the redhead; she couldn’t want the monster. That was when she fell to her knees, supplicating. “Why?” she’d begged. Denials cascaded into rejection; Hope’d taken her disbelief as dismissal and retreated to the sea while Jaycy huddled, unseeing but sensing her loss. It’d told her the truth, silence in that anguished query -- the blonde didn’t mean it; the blonde couldn’t even answer that one simple request. But still, she had to know.

"What! You fucking tell me you want me and fucking walk away! What the fuck do you want?!"

Whether it was the words themselves or the despaired tone behind them, something broke the fog and summoned those green wings. Only a few at first, then more and simply more until the air around them was full of them, until they were full of them. Hope’s return and Hope’s arms easing around her wrecked frame began with frigid, unbelievable sadness, until the blonde’s rasped voice blanketed her with words she, the monster, had never hoped for.

"All I ever wanted was you. Just this right here. Us. To do this for as long as we can. Until we can't.... and then some more."

"Hope, my Hope..."

"... you're my choice. I couldn't help but love Psly because of our link and the history, but you ... it's my choice to love you."


Even then she’d wanted forever. She knew even then. She just wasn’t ready to voice it and scare the woman away.

"I'm yours, Hope Naharis. Always yours."

Thick, heated waterdrops stained the marble as they free-fell from her face, smothered when she could no longer bear the weight of her head and it met the ground. Tremors jolted her as sobs started to come thick and heavy and harsh, necessitating great, deep breaths to try and regain some oxygen. It turned out they were at ‘until we can’t’ and all that was left was the little more that would doom them.

But Jaycy would always be hers.

The incessant cheery chime of the intercom brought her to her senses and she slowly, painfully lifted her head. The body followed, bidden to movement by the intrusion into her living nightmare. “Aye?” she finally grated after reaching the button. “He’s here.” Shuddering breath, touching the button once more. “Thanks, I’m ready.” She wasn’t but she couldn’t call it off. Quickly she scrubbed at her face to try and mitigate signs of her interrupted meltdown.

It was a wonder that she was halfway presentable by the time Bo Robbins knocked at her door.

Sighing first, she plastered a small smile on her face and allowed him entry, bobbing her head in greeting as he and his case passed. She hadn’t missed the surprised widening of his eyes as he realized his newest possible customer; in a place where discretion was not only a boon but required for guests they hadn’t warned him of which august personage he’d be displaying his wares for.

“Madam… Governor.” He’d waited until the door was properly closed to accomplish the greeting in full and edged further in. “Jaycy’s fine,” she countered with that lingering upturn of her lips, “.. and well met, m’lord Robbins.”

“Bo’s fine.” The man reassured her with a little chuckle at his cleverness. She waved him toward the open door within the suite, leading him to the office that Tetra had so generously prepared and customized for the woman within her building, one floor below the Signora’s own penthouse. Wisely, he didn’t survey much of the suite on his way to their destination; there was a reason he was trusted by Tetra’s staff and had been invited to make this sale.

She motioned to the wide, uncluttered cherry desk as an invitation to where to settle his case and then moved with him so they could stand shoulder to shoulder in perusal of the bounty within. He opened the lid to reveal two dozen jade bands in shades ranging from almost translucent white to deep, heavy emerald. “I brought the ones I have that are supposed to be your size, but if none of these suit your fancy I’ll go see what else I can find.”

He smiled and continued after sparing a look at her silent form, her green-gold eyes focused on the variety within. She’d asked for plain, simple stone with no adornments and he’d delivered. “So, is this for a special someone? Jade is excellent for attracting money, and for lovers as well. It helps increase trust and supports new love as a grounding, protective stone. Bands like this are often for weddings, especially in younger cou --”

“I’ll take this one. Bill me,” she cut him off, plucking a particular ring from the velvet and slipping it onto her right ring finger to ensure a proper fit. He blinked and she added, finally, in a whisper, “... it’s in and for a memory.”

Bo had the grace to wince as he dropped the lid and secured it. “I’m sor --” The redhead stopped him again with a negating wave of her hand. Taking the hint, he snatched his case and scooted out, leaving her in silence to peer at the ring she now bore.

It was the exact hue of those green butterfly wings.

(( Flashback and conversation taken and adapted from live play with Hope. ))
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