Thread: Sword & Shield

The blow to the gut lurched his body forward, as forward as he could with that rough hemp rope straining, reddening the bare skin of his wrists. Beneath a veil of long brown hair that whipped about to cover his face, dangling around all sides, Tierian winced. The punch wasn't as strong as a man's, but this woman knew something of precision, that's for sure, and that made up for it with room to spare. The next breath he took was sharp, was between gritted teeth, and as she whipped his head back, hair moving away so they could stare one another down again, there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of the prince's lips. That smirk held as she continued to berate him, but then the second punch came, careening his head to a side, his shoulders shifting with the blow, the chair teetering with it just slightly. Tierian then sunk against his wooden shackles. This woman was in a serious tiff, wasn't she? But still he chuckled some, low, his face masked again by that shoulder-length hair. He chuckled, a sound that grew from a low decibel to something more audible over the course of a few seconds once she was finished speaking. His shoulders still slumped, as did his body, but his head rose, hair falling back in place save for a few that still clung to the sweat of his cheeks and neck, not to mention the tiny new beads of crimson the arrogant cunt had summoned forth. Perhaps you didn't hear me, he said with an amused, toothy laugh. I asked for the Lion, not the Lioness. I recognize that medallion... a gift, was it? Is your claim to fame that you warm his bed, little wench? A snicker. Then, despite his predicament, Tierian's eyes most unashamedly left her gray orbs, scanning over the curves of her body. Normally, among his people, he was known as something of a gentleman, this only part of his reputation to go along with his valor and his roguishly charming looks, but now, right now, this was not a situation that called for civility. A man both hates his rival and respects him, so I feel no hesitance in admitting I applaud his taste in women. Tail like yours could very well stand up against some of the more moderately attractive women in my land. These people were going to hate him no matter what. He was Prince of their sworn enemy and the leader of its army. His personal exploits, as of this most recent battle, would see him boasting to have slain a full hundred Ellencian men, with countless more having fallen before his tactics, and the aid of his father's politics. The motions would be gone through. He would be roughed up, punched a bit, tossed in a holding area where the soldiers took shifts not so much guarding him as they would take turns glaring at him, wishing they had both the permission and the ability to outsword such a captive. No, they would keep him bound, poorly fed, rough him up some and return him once negotiations were complete. If they'd wished his death Tierian would never have woken up. The fact that he was conscious now reassured him that they would do no serious harm. He was well acquainted with the way things like this went. And until the time of his freedom came the last thing he would do was show any fear, especially to the lover of his rival. Their faces were close now, she draping her fingers along his neck, brown and gray intent on staring one another down. Go. Fetch your man, he said with a smirk. Then, with little warning, a mouthful of saliva spat its way across the slight distance between them, crashing against the bridge of her pretty little nose, splashing outward. Chuckling still, If he wishes his personal maiden - his wench - to keep me company, then perhaps you should be a bit more hospitable. You do know how to work a man with those lips of yours, don't you? I'll bet you do, surrounded by all these tents... But unless you're going to show me some respect, fetch your Lion! A sharp snarl overtook, chestnut hair falling about either cheek. If he is not a coward then he will release me, he will equip me and he and I shall settle this like men! Anything less and your 'hero' is hiding behind these damned ropes! His wrists tugged sharply at the bonds, his ankles doing what they could to join in the strain, accomplishing only his own discomfort. You go, and you tell him that, woman. The snarl lingered for a moment, then subsiding back to a snicker. Be a dear, don't forget to shake those hips on your way out.