Annoying. This is what it is, annoying as Richard's inability to discern between priorities and nuisance, such as helping those in 'need' or just being plain nosy. This feeling is and stubbornly...annoying. Her jaws hurt, the throbbing had started after the Stone of Tears was successfully delivered and Lord Rahl and his Mother Confessor declared their undying love for each other and what not. Cara still doesn't understand why they are there-the throbbing pain of her jaws, the annoying feeling that filled her chest for no good reason at all. Agiels she could take, their painful embrace trickled with dark webs of blood woven on the surface of her skin, it's comfort really. Heimlich. But this jaw pain...ache, is just...annoying. She tried agieling it once but the ache had worsened afterwards. And the peculiar feeling on her chest, she tried to relieve it by killing off a few D'Haran soldiers, hunting at every chance she gets and even went as far as doing laundry for the week, which puzzled her companions who were wise enough to not question the odd behavior and instead smiled blankly while nodding absently at the all didn't work, which left her with only one last solution.
'Seeker, we should celebrate your victory at this tavern I know which serves good food. And the woods would be grateful as I'm sure I'm not the only one who find the echoes of the wizard's grumbling stomach...pleasant.' Her gaze was sweet, as sweet as her gaze could be, and a pout, masterfully formed with her red lips which gently curves into a smirk when the Seeker and wizard excitedly agreed at her suggestion. Kahlan was of course happy at whatever plans they have, she's been carrying that smile all three weeks long, which is understandable seeing how she's about to be married to her true mate. Cara sees her reaching out for Richard's hand and smiles a wider sickeningly sweet smile at him. The slightly wet ground feels oddly soft against her feet, the woods felt distant, and Cara's again clutching her aching jaw.
The night is going well, the bar is full and the noise is comforting. The tumbling drunks, shouts and songs breaking out of the blue from men and women with flustered faces, plastered against each other with pints of ale raised with joy, mixed with jokes and tales, no doubt passed on from their equally drunk ancestors. It's the eighth pint for Cara. She's hardly drunk, just comfortable, the aches, agitation and irritation of that peculiar feeling was drowned by the warm soothing drinks. The lights of the bar were slightly dim, they were comforting, the atmosphere was festive yet at the same time peaceful. She could smell the sweet ale, the scent of oak of the bar, and smoke from firewood mixed with the smell of warm gravy and grilled meat. Turning to check on the circus band, she could see Richard ogling the Mother Confessor cleavage while Kahlan was excitingly telling him stories. The wizard was also ogling at a piece of mutton in front of him. Rolling her eyes she downed her drink and asked for another two. With the drinks in hand she saunters towards a brunette who had been casting glances at her all evening. She has delicate features, her hair was draping down her shoulders, leading your eyes to her curvaceous form until her sweet smile breaks you from the temporary spell. It could all be true or Cara could've been blind drunk. With a few honey glazed words dripped from her tongue, she seductively licks her plump lower lip, her fingers playfully smooth over her Agiel as her lustful gaze follows across its length, a gaze which then travels lazily from below the woman's form up towards her blue eyes.
It's dark. She's alert as she feels a new found energy humming through her, anger and irritation bleeds together with lust. She could feel the jaw ache surfacing again. Pushing the woman down onto the bed, Sylvia or Ella or something, she helps her strip her dress down, abandoning it beside the bed. Her own leather is then skillfully untangled within moments without breaking the contact of their body, and her Agiels carefully placed on the wobbly nightstand. Their hands wander across their flesh, eager yet patiently exploring each curves, scars and the smoothness of their skin. Cara breathes in the smell of her hair, strawberries during summer, they always are, aren't they? Except the smell of ale brings her back. Their tongues aggressively dance their own elusive rhythm, lips soften yet inflame their heat which seem to radiate from each corner of their body. It's raining. The sound of the gentle shower across the woods and the town, their secretive language and the lonely whispers of cool breeze encourages her even more. She kisses her shoulder, rakes her fingernails across her lower stomach and savours the moans and slight shudder from the woman. She presses her thigh on the moist folds and her hands are on the woman's hips as she was struggling to rub against the much needed contact. They're breathing hard and her breasts are rubbing against the woman's, the friction mirrors her own apex on the woman's thigh. They kiss, with Cara's lips over the other woman's tongue while her hand starts to wander lower. She grazes her thumb over the sensitive clit, fingers teasing her entrance and feeling the sticky fluid coat her fingers. She's sucking her erect nipples and her hand grabs the woman's buttocks. Smirking, she thrusts three fingers into her folds, earning a gasp and subsequent loud moans as she increases and deepens her pace. That peculiar feeling on her chest rises up again. She reaches for her Agiel and touches its tip on the woman's clit as she soon feels her inner muscles' spasm around her fingers. Cara looks on as the woman arches her back and rides her throes of ecstasy as she herself struggles to climax while rubbing against the woman's thigh. She then feels a hand wrapped around hers and the next thing she knows, she's lying next to the woman, her own Agiel on her clit, holding onto the warm body for dear life.
She slowly opens her eyes, surveying her surroundings and remembering last night, she carefully tries to ascertain if Sylvia or Ella or something was awake. The breathing on her back was steady- she's still asleep. She was about to gently remove the blanket when a sweet voice stopped her.
'I know you're awake.' Great. 'Thank you for last night. I have to lea...'. 'My name is Dahlia.' Dear Spirits, the feelings type.
'Daelia, thank yo...' Dahlia places her palm over Cara's cheek and she seems to be contemplating about how to voice her words. It vaguely reminds her of someone. 'It's Dahlia. And I see auras.' She has to leave. Now. 'And before you leave, I would like you to just listen for a while...I sense auras and they tell me about that person. You're troubled.' Cara attempts to rise but she was stopped by the surprisingly strong hand of Dahlia, the aura senser. 'Look, Dae...Dahlia, I really need to leave, it's been wonderful but I can't be late.' She should've just leave but there was something about her, something that begs her to stay.
'I'll be quick.' Cara contemplates for a moment and decides to lie still and listen patiently. What harm could it bring?
'You're troubled.' 'You'd just said that.'
'And you're in love. A love that's repressed and creating all these...aches. It's rare to see this kind of aura as the person would usually have to be either highly trained to repress those feelings or emotionally crippled or both. And this love...'
While trying hard to process what Dahlia had just said, Cara holds up her palm and stops the woman from continuing to ramble on. 'Hold on a second. Do you see those leathers?' Pointing towards the Agiels and blood red clothing, Cara questions with a lifted eyebrow and frankly annoyed eyebrow. 'I'm a Mord' Sith. We do not love.'
Dahlia just smiles and leans seductively close to her, her lips closes the gap between hers and her hands wander to her breasts. Breaking away for air, she answers to her resistance, 'And yet your jaw and chest ache when I do that. I remind you of someone, don't I?' She's smiling and questioning with her playful gaze.
Confused, agitated and annoyed, Cara leaves the bed and starts redressing. 'You were much more fun when you made the right noises.'
She let out a soft chuckle and contently watches the Mord'Sith. With the last tug of her belt, Cara heads for the door but she doesn't leave until Dahlia finishes her ramble, 'It'll only subside when you follow your heart. As troubled as it is, your heart knows what, or perhaps where true love is.' She walks out the door, stopping at the stairs and contemplates her words. It's a pity for someone as beautiful as she is to have lost their marbles.