Monday, January 3, 2011

Ob turns his eye to look at Pandora. The dark blue begins to swirl with other colors. She watches, fascinated, and he breaks off. As she comes back to herself. He watches her carefully.

"Be very sure this is what you want, Bruha. If I possess you once, it will much easier to do it again. I... I love you too much." He turns his eye away. "I should not love you at all." His eyes fade to his normal pale blue and he closes them.

Her hand strokes lightly over the scaled armor. He cannot feel the touch, but he knows the warmth of her touch.

"Azda'aya... My true name.. it is Azda'aya Josephito Drago-Romanavitch" he opens his eyes slowly, turning his head to look at her with both eyes. "You know the power of true names. You are the ONLY one to know my full name. The others who know are... gone." A tear slips down Ob's scaly hide.

Pandora kisses away the tear, the touch meaning more to him that anything she has said.

"I will not possess you, Pandora, and I will not spend the night hiding up here. You have my name, you have the keys to my soul. You can take possession of me as well as I can do so to you. If you will have me like.... this, I will walk beside you. But be warned, not all will believe it is truly me."

As he stands, Ob looks down at himself. Ridged and armored, there is no way he will pleasure Pandora. He cups himself running a thumb over spikes. "And we need to cover me, I think."

Pandora laughs. The sound slips a heat into the cold pain he feels every time he is in this form. He can sense the confusion in her mind, and the acceptance in her heart. Thanking the Goddess, he gathers her in his arms and drifts down to her balcony. When he tries to enter, he finds his wings too much for the glass doors, Ob settles down to wait.

She is in the room, rummaging about and emerges with a pair of dark blue raw silk curtains. A little tying and adjusting, and he is wearing a very serviceable loin cloth. He gathers her up again and drops off the edge, lightly landing near the doorway.

Pandora finds her feet and tries to take his hand. She looks up at him and laughs when hers disappears in his tender grip. Flattening his wings against his sides, Ob bends his head slightly so his horns don't scrape the ceiling of the hallway. They emerge into the barroom to sudden silence and a scramble of chairs.

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