Larks of a Feather Swarm Together (Elymas)

[Shkara]

Time-stamp: Fall 10, 511 AV Location: The Pillars of Dust Who: Elymas Status: Closed Shkara had just left The Serpent's Elixirs in a fuming rage. Rasken stood at the entrance of his tent angrily shaking his fist at her, while his assistant Hajirah kept him from attacking a customer, as was usual of her. Shkara didn't steal, didn't pull of any crime, Rasken was enraged simply because he watched Shkara fail at what she does best, and the Dhani hated weakness and failures. She had been sitting in his tent nursing a Cheva's Grace, looking for another mark. Which at the end of the day was her bigger addiction than Mirage, her constant, even to this day, rebelling of her parents' beliefs and discipline. She was almost forced to find a man, always someone higher than her in status, and seduce him to do whatever she wanted. It wasn't even a sexual desire, she loved having that kind of control over a man. But today, her control failed her. She had watched a very finely dressed man, in colors of silver and pale green, enter the tent. A North Wind man... She smiled deviously to herself. Finally time to sink her claws into someone worthwhile. She was glad she was wearing her good jewels today. She went over to an armor vender and found a very well polished shield. She pulled out her cosmetics kit and began to change her makeup. She took the rag from her kit and wiped off all the blue and black makeup she currently used. She then looked into the shield, so as to get a good look at herself. She pulled out her kohl tube and open the top. She then grabbed a tiny brush from the kit, moistened it by slipping it between her lips, and dipped it into the kohl. When she pulled it out, it was covered in black. She carefully applied the black kohl to the underside of her eyes, right at the base of the lashes, carefully extending the line out past the corners of her eyes. She did the same for the upper lashes, without the extension. She then cleaned the brush with her rag, and moistened it once more. This time she dipped it into another kohl container, this time a pale, sensual green. She applied this to the lids of her eyes, carefully ensuring to not smear it or spread it. She then found a small pointy stick, made of bone. It was very thin, designed for precise work. She dipped it into the green kohl and brought it up to the extended black lines she made earlier. She carefully made a design by making little pokes in unison. She made a wadj leaf hanging from the black tip, then filled it in with green. She repeated this to the other side, and allowed it to dry. She wiped her bone tool and brush clean, and pulled out one last kohl tube. Silver. She first used her brush to apply it to the undersides of her eyes. She then used the bone tool to make silver veins in the leaves she had made earlier. She put all her kohl away and pulled out a small container of powder. The powder came with a broad brush with very loose bristles. She used this to apply the darker green powder to her dark tan cheeks. Finally, she got a small jar out. She opened it carefully and dipped a small, thin brush into it. She pulled it out and applied a silver paint to her lips. After checking it twice, she puckered and smiled, to make sure she got it in the creases of the lips. She gave her self one last look over in the shield and smiled. He was as good as hers now. She entered the tent and saw the man sitting alone at a table with a small glass of a red drink. This one had high expectations. She knew that drink made a man very, very interested in receiving pleasure, and helped him perform. Shkara walked gracefully over to a table with in his eyesight, making sure she sat so he could get a profile view of her. She ordered a Cheva's Grace, bright orange drink. She sipped at it gently, doing her best to appear more noble-like. Using her peripheral vision she kept an eye on her target while lost in fake thought. He would bite, they always did. A few chimes went by when he finally did something aside from sit and drink. He smiled. And he had begun to stare. He took the bait, but the hook wasn't in yet. Time to really get his attention. She first leaned her head slightly to the right, giving him a good view of the bare curve of her neck. Then she feigned shifting in her seat, meanwhile crossing her left arm across her abdomen, her wrist resting in the crook of her elbow. This allowed her forearm to lift her breasts slightly, to make them appear fuller and more desirable. Then she waited. He was now staring much more intently at her. Time to hook him. She tilted her head down a bit, then looked over at him, desire heavy in her eyes, her lips pursed slightly. She raised her breasts once more, and as her eyes met his, a nice, innocent smile adorned her silvered lips. The man's eyes were burning with lust, and a hint of surprise she detected. She took this time to study him some. He was in fairly good shape, not a pampered noble. He had the six arms common to their kind, all adorned in silver and emeralds. His head was clean shaven, his make up light. He had a very masculine look about him. This would be one mark she could truly enjoy. Hook, line, and... Why is he looking away?!?! Then she heard a familiar jingle, typically only found in one section of town. She turned to the entrance and saw a fiery headed buxom walk in. She had a deep violet robe, with little bells dangling from the ends. Petching Lark! Thinking she can just walk in here and take my mark! And she did. The redhead strode right over to the man, sat on his lap, and had her claws dug in deep. Clearly he preferred colors opposite of his own. Petching redheads. Shkara had been watched the entire time by Rasken. He knew what she was up to when she walked in. He shook his head at this, but held his tongue. But when the redhead came in and took the man, and Shkara did nothing to get him back in her clutches, he was infuriated. What kind of woman just gave up like that?! The woman of the Dhani would never stand for such a trespass. After the new couple got up and left, Rasken, hostile now, began to give Shkara his two coppers. Shkara stormed out of the tent after paying her drink. Unfortunately, Rasken was right. And there was a slight tactical edge to it as well. What man didn't want to be fought over by gorgeous women? She looked around the streets, looking for the woman. The man would mingle easily, but firemanes stood out. There they were, just turning a corner, heading toward the Pillars of dust. Shkara quickly, yet carefully, so as to not ruin her own look, walked toward the corner. She couldn't believe the woman would take him toward the Pillars. Unless she intended to earn his coin, then give the rest of him over to a Scorpion. That honestly seemed more likely. She always, always went to the mark's home. After all, one can't move up in society without recognition. Shkara peered around the corner, in case the couple were close by, to stay out of sight. She saw them finally entering the Pillars and disappear off to the side. She walked quietly, sticking the to the side of the crumbled walls, careful as to where she stepped. She could see them chatting up against a pillar, several other Larks standing around. Crude woman, right here in public? Shkara walked to the other side of the pillars, slowly, as quiet as possible. She was trying to be sneaky, but saw that several Larks and peddlers were staring at her. As she approached the couple's pillar, she absentmindedly kicked a stone, it striking the pillar, making a sharp noise. "Who's there?" said a startled woman's voice. The Lark left her mark, and stepped out to just in front of Shkara. One look at Shkara and she sneered, "Oh, it's you. He's mine now, so just get out of here before you get hurt." Shkara gave her a venomous smile, "Give him up honey, he doesn't need to be slumming it down with the scraps of the world. He needs someone with..." she paused as she looked the Lark over, "Class. Being from the North Wind and all." Shkara saw the man peer out from behind the pillar. She gave him the 'Come here' motion with her finger. He complied like a little puppy. She then put one set of her hands on his waist, and the other set gently on his cheeks, pulling him close. Her lips met his with desire, with a twinge of fake jealousy, so as to stir him more, and pull him to her side. His own lips complied, a bit nervously, but still enthusiastic. As she broke the embrace of their lips, she whispered in his ear, "Remember the name Shkara." She stepped back from him, "Now get going before someone sees you slumming it down here with these sleazes. You have a rank to maintain." The man didn't need any more encouraging and departed post haste, Shkara smiling at the Lark smugly. She yet another man around her little finger. "Petching Chupra! Strikal is going to kill me, I haven't made quota yet! What in Syna's name is wrong with you! He's just another man!" Clearly the Lark was in a tough situation, but that fell on deaf ears with Shkara. "Go find you some other coin-purse," then smugly added, "Foysha." The rage in the woman's eyes was quite evident. Then it quickly turned to fear, as a massive shadow passed over Shkara. Someone had snuck up on her. And that someone was huge. A deep bellowing voice resounded from behind her, "Well now Hurashi, you've lost another customer. Go wait over there at your pillar. NOW!" She felt him shift, Shkara too scared to turn around. Clearly this man was the redhead's Scorpion. "I like a woman with an iron gullet. What I don't like is losing business. So you have a choice, wench. Either you become one of mine, or I make it so your face never attracts another man again." Shkara turned and saw the mountain of a man. He was a head and a half taller than her and appeared to be made solely of muscle. But he didn't like like most Scorpions. He didn't have any scars as far she could tell, nor a weapon. She really hoped he was new to the work, he would be easier to get away from if that were the case. She didn't know what to do, escape and be beaten, or become a lowly Lark. So she tried to flee, and made it a whole two steps before an steel vice of a grip clamped on her arm. It pulled her back, her shoulder burning. He then openhandedly slapped her, sending her into the sand. She laid there, tears stinging her eyes. She wouldn't cry for this man. No matter how much he beat her.