Note: Dear readers, if you have not done so, AlassinSane has made Bishop's backstory into a series of 5 chapters. :) I would suggest reading them on a rainy night, by a fire with a mug of ale.
- - - Chapter 3: Bishop's Viewpoint - - -
What in the hells is that wench doing? For a little while, Bishop might have actually been asleep.
Earlier in the day, he'd scouted out a particular oval indentation in a field of wildflowers, and spent time sheering out some of the weeds, working their scent into the grassy bed in the process, flattening out a 'den.' "Remember this spot, Karnwyr."
Not far off, the half tame wolf had marked a long flat stone, and his head tipped sideways in recognition of his master's voice.
After taking one last glance at the handywork, and ensuring the location was secure, the tracker stealthed back into the woods and made sure to lose any trace of where they'd been. Their Ladyship would never know the difference.
" 'Aye." Dusk was starting to fall, and the woman always gave up perfectly good travel time to lay somewhere dangerous during the night. This time, he wouldn't have to worry about her poor choice of location. If only she had seen the bodies left from his area culling left by morning. One time she about tripped over a corpse, and he impatiently shrugged like it had been there the whole time. "You're welcome."
"What?" She was just finishing hanging up some glowing robe, stream washed, to dry out in a bush. They always hid their gear as to not draw attenion from any creature or person potentially passing by. She usually sucked at it.
He stood on a stone, arms crossed, one leg relaxed, looking down at her. "Come here. I found something." Nearby, the wolf barked twice, circling, then whining. His ears had gone flat, panting like a nervous dog.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Probably smells a bitch in heat." His impassive face didn't change at the unimpressed look she shot him.
"Then why doesn't he chase her down?"
For some reason, the comment made him quirk the corner of his lips into a half-smirk. "Not worth the effort."
"My fox was worth the effort..." He could hear her mumble just under her breath.
He kicked back in the indentation hidden in the tall grass, arms crossed behind his head, one knee raised. "What was that?" The sky was starting to bleed out of color, pure blues consumed into the red of the falling sun.
"Nothing. ..Bishop?" Her words were so naive, how she ever survived this long was a mystery. If he believed in the gods, he might think they had a sense of humor in selecting prophetic figures. He heard her footsteps circle around before her shadow finally slipped over him, where she stood shiluetted against the sunset. A goddess, if he ever did see one.
"Get in. Place 's clear."
Her face became perplexed. "In?" She was reguarding the well hid area like she'd never seen grass before.
"Yeeah." He said slowly as if she were hard of comprehending.
She huffed a sound of annoyance. "I'm going to finish cleaning your leather if you ever take it off. I'll join you later."
Wordlessly, he began unbuckling the straps on his chest piece. He could see her watching, and suddenly turning as if she really had something to do.
There wasn't any way he could get any rest near her, with her sitting there above him. His light dozing was broken the moment her presence arrived, with only the cricket song to keep them company. Too many uncertainties plagued his thoughts. There was just too much of a possibility that things could go wrong. His aggressive tendencies, the fact she didn't need him and kept him around anyway, yet didn't beg at his heels the way other women did. She wanted something. What did she want?
He made sure not to flinch in waking, paining himself to keep a light even breath, pretending survival depended on it. A hand was near to his face, hovering. Not being able to see her moving around, whatever thing that was taking her so long to do, was agony. Even the tip of a grass blade felt like the point of a knife on his stomach, and part of him was anxiously waiting to feel pain.
Finally after what feeled like forever, she was right next to him, dropped at his side. Compared to all else, it felt sudden, and he wouldn't let her get a chance to go further. In a split moment, he sprang, expertly pinning her into place to get a good look.
"What in THE HELL are you doing?" All of his doubt, forced to be hidden in the past minutes, came out uncontrolled. She stuttered his name in a way that made his heart plummet into his stomach, and a feeling that he regretted knowing- her resistence going slack under him- felt as if he could do anything and she'd allow him. Just staring with that confused doll face.
No weapons drawn, no magic in hand, no trove of bandits creeping up, a very sheer night dress he'd never seen her wear before. Shit. Releasing her wrists in a jerk, the dagger of being in the wrong has not settled into his stomach just yet.
Supicion remained of the too-revealing clothing. It wasn't like her. In a brisk motion, he patted his hands down her figure, but all he felt was the curves of her small stomach up to her chest. His heart leapt like a sabercat. He was beginning to like the change of clothes, they hid nothing, Until he found it, the telltale feeling of a dagger's hilt up her arm, near her shoulder.
Snapping to her face, about to grab for the hair-bristling weapon, he saw how flushed her cheeks had become from just touching her. If he took it, what was she going to do? Spit on him? He had a fleeting desire to watch her face change as his hands worked, but she had other ideas.
"Don't even think about it!" The deep look of betrayal was unsettling. Those beautiful eyes, contorted to such a clear message, twisted him all up inside in a way he'd never known. Never had he cared, everything with people was just business. One person getting what they wanted using another.
But this was different. For some reason, he was driven to keep this woman safe, compelled to, and she was looking at him the way his mother had looked at his father, one of his earliest memories still in tact.
Now how will I pay for you?
Visions of his mother's last words to him still lingered at the outskirts of his mind, for the first time in a decade, spoken with his hands still red with the blood of his father. Women only wanted men to keep themselves fed, they used children to keep him around. An heir, an extra surname running around in exchange for a place to live. The daughters were traded for more things, the sons were there as badges of honor, expected to carry on titles.
"Did you really think I'd hurt you..?" She asked so taken back, low, sincere. This wasn't right, people didn't give you something for nothing.
That was the sharp tip that drove into his stomach. "A man can't be too sure."The wedged blade broke the knot in his chest, leaving him with nothing more than to flop over on his side and reassure himself that she was okay, to pick up her wrists and prove to himself that they weren't bruised, that her body wasn't red and crumpled up. "Did I hurt you..?" Tell me I didn't hurt her. His own mental words held a vicious tenor.
He moved extra slow in turning her palm, waiting for something to be broken, to not move the way it should. How could he live with himself? Had he really been spending his whole life running from his past? She was forcing him to question it all, that's why he needed her more than he wanted her.
"No.. I'm fine, but what was that about?" She had relaxed as if all was just perfect the moment he collapsed. He let her hands back down, to know where they were, less he do something regretful in his swamped thoughts.
"I'm not used to..this. You were moving so slow that I thought you were going to jump me." His eyes were fixed onto the wall of grass, leaving the entire world devoid of everything but her. Why her, of all people. The one who rushed headlong to her death whenever the opportunity arose, and for other people.
"You were awake?" Huh, she had no idea. Her eyes blinked like a clueless doe.
"With the way you were stomping the grass like a she bear? How could I not be."
As predicted, she went straight to being too annoyed to press him further. "I was tired, hunter. There isn't anywhere else to go." Not with me around, there isn't. "Now, are you going to flap your yap all night, or will you let us sleep?" Us.
Us.
When was the last time he slept body to body with someone? Before or after he reflexively stabbed non canine things that got too near to him in his sleep?
"What are you wearing..?" He changed the subject to avoid yet another thing his mind had to deal with. It looked like she had settled down, and deliberately rolled onto her side, facing him. He always noted she slept that way, curled up completely vulnerable, lips parted.
As she turned, it felt like she was coming into his territory, approaching the hunter in his domain, his den. It was hard to ignore the urge to match her, to lean a bit closer in turn.
"The shop lady called it a 'comfort robe.'" Ha, right. Eh, they had enough septims to throw at useless garments, but in his opinion, it was a good buy.
"Is the knife part of that comfort?" Just why would she keep it in such an easy access location if she didn't plan on using it. Especially when anything that could possibly get to them would be too large for her poor skill level to draw prick of blood with that butterknife. Was she trying to be him?
"A woman can never be too careful."
So she did feel it necessary in order to lay by him. It made his jaw lock, working an uneceesary level of rage. Not even for her, but at something. His dad? For being the kind of person she needed to defend from?
"It's just a measure of safety, like laying close by you. For animals or something." Like laying close to me. So easily, so instantly, he didn't know what to think anymore. She gave him anger, and took it away again with petty little words. Just words. A man shouldn't have to feel this way over words.
Still, he couldn't deny the relief. She claimed to see him as safety, and brought no weapon she knew how to use to the bed he'd made. He felt his defeated posture perk. "You feel safe. Laying by me." It came out a bit sarcastic.
"Yes," she said as flatly as Orc poetry.
"Well, in that case.." He heard her gasp the moment his hand dipped under the collar of her light gray robe, nimbly grazing between the silken fabric and her warm, heavenly soft skin. The sheath wasn't even clasped, allowing for the blade to slide out easily, where he promptly gave it a flick into the tall grass. Karnwyr could deal with finding it later, if ever. He strongly had his doubts about her ability to do any more than cut bread for him with it.
Her over reaction, like the gesture made a any differnece only employed him to smirk in amusement.
"What purpose does that serve?"
"You don't need it." All of the questions drilling his mind sharpened his eyes to a pointed depth. I am not my father. I will be the only weapon you need. You don't need to protect yourself from me. He pulled her against his chest without hesitation, and she felt so small against him.
"I could just shout.. What is a little dagger going to do to you?"
"It's not that.." His eyes hardened, thinking of what he'd done with a very similar dagger, to someone who may or may not have been a gold theif. Of wanting for her to belive he'd never lay a hand on her.
"Then what is it?"
"I don't sleep well with others." He let out a rumbled sort of sight, half stuck in his throat. Might as well tell her half of the story so she doesn't dig further. "I've been known to wake up, in the dead of night. Anything larger than a fox kit sets me off."
Her hand tentatively reached out, quivering. How it pissed him off, wanting her to just.. What, grab him? Something. But not stay at the sidelines like a scared little deer, making him feel like a wolf. But his eyes shown something differnt, not anger. He waited, watching her every fleeting twitch. When she finally touched him, it was softer than he expected, and worth waiting for. The thumb brushing his face was soothing, and shooed away all the imagined images of personal monsters bothering him. Maybe it was mage magic.
Then, she moved with more direction, settling her hand upon his stubbled face without hesitation.
"You won't hurt me." The way her beautiful eyes held an essence of the authority of a dragon in that insant, sure like a general giving the deciding command at war, but somehow held the gentle grace so rarely found in nature. Something he couldn't compare to. It was all he wanted to hear.
Like drawn to something mystical, entrapping and guiding his body, he stroked his hand down her arm with equal grace, dancing to a silent harmony only they could hear, trailing that robe down her arm to expose her flesh. He'd show her just how much he wouldn't dare harm her, give her pleasure she'd never felt from a male in her life.
Realizing the urge was that- an urge, he drew back before he found himself doing something that there was no control of. "Of course I wouldn't. I never sleep anywhere near you." Throw her off the scent.
"Just..Try it," she coaxed, "Karnwyr never bothers you, right?"
Seriously? How was this anything like Karnwyr? He went deadpan. Wow, she gives, and she takes away.
"So it will be like Karnwyr! You'll just get used to me."
"You're comparing yourself to a bitch?"
It looked like she didn't know what to do with the words, that he'd cornered her to a stalemate, but she matched his sarcasm. "A-roo."
Just like that, all of his tension was gone. His grievences and ghosts went back to where they belonged- the past. He found himself laughing, and every breath shone a light on them to make them less scary, and eventually just vanish. They didn't matter right now. He wanted her close, right now, and wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her. Her skin was cool and it felt good, made more noticeable as she was pulled flush against his half naked body, just that joke of a fabric dividing them.
Her long lashes fluttered endearingly, her full lips parted in breaths like he was already inside her. It made his heart reach a tempo like a galloping stalion.
"Fine. You can be my bitch." He grinned devilishly. She could do whatever she wanted to him. As a spark of 'about to sass Bishop' flared up in her eyes, it only made him more enthralled.
And then she bit him. His whole body went tense, half in instictive anticipation of a confrontation, half suddenly aware of just how close her lips were to his flesh. He growled low, a wave of heat shooting to his groin. He took her face into hand before she could try it again and expect to get away with it, but he couldn't stop his thumb from lightly brushing between her lips, just daring her to do it again for him.
She looked spooked, but moved slow, and he felt the softest lick pass across the pad of his thumb, freezing him as she drew away. Like chasing prey, he couldn't help following, she wasn't going to get away when she teased an ran, just inviting him to come after.
Without another wasted moment, he slipped his hand under her leg and used it to flip her, guiding her rear against him. The way she staggered out his name, caught by the hunter, sent him into a trance. Another surge shot downward through his body, and he held her leg apart through the robe, keeping her open to him as he press his constricted swell against her soft warmth, so little between them that he could feel the heat through lether. Her leg settled, and even as his hand over the rise of her hip and down to her slender stomach, not about to let her get away, her legs shifted slightly, every motion rubbing against his constricted arousal.
With no space left between their bodies, pressed tight, he breathed across her necked, and rubmled into her ear. "So you like taking it like a wolf, huh?" Biting him, teasing, he'd have her from behind.
"I-I've never taken it at all!"
"What? You mean after the hundred men circling at your feet to whimper at your every beck and whim, you're still a virgin?" Was she serious right now? How could she look like that, and still be in tact? Was there something wrong with her?
"Yes.. I've..never been deflowered."
He let out a long sigh, loosening the intent of his hand on her stomach, allowing it to go slack. Still, she didn't move, as if still caught, and he felt himself throb against the damned leather. It made his breaths grow heavy. Her hand had settled on the arm still draped over her, lightly, not fighting or forcing him off. Unspoken agreement. He nudged her hair aside and redirected his focus into a parting kiss brushed at the side of her neck.
If it had been any other time in his life, would he have stopped? Was it only because his father's ghost still haunted him, or was there more? He could barely think about the past with such a perfect body and the soul of a draggon practically nude against him. She wasn't budging, and his expression darkened, fighting the urge and the demons.
She moved, finally, but only enough to roll over. He reguarded her with the same eyes, but hers were nothing like his, honest and soft. Her cheek nuzzled on his arm, voice quiet and private, meant only for him, "I'll never run a dagger through your heart, I have no reason to steal from you."
He could barely speak, barely force himself into control. But her words had driven home something powerful, holding a blade flush against the throat of his wicked demon. "And I'll never turn you in for that bounty on your head..." Any smile now would just be grim.
Her eyes opened slowly as if she was coming to realize something, and it made him more aware of their conversation. "The one for me being a vampire?" She went to bite him again, and he about jumped.
"What?"
She smirked with abandon. "You know, I'd always wondered if you were secretly a Lycan.. That would explain.. ..a lot of things."
Was she mad? "Are you really..a vampire?" She was his demon now, great.
"Noo." The start of a groan could be heard, but damn was she believeable.
"Don't kid like that. I could believe it." That last bite had been unnerving; he was still flexing his shoulder against the feeling of her grazing tooth.
"And I could believe you're a werewolf."
"Ha!" Yeah, if he was, he wasn't going to tell her. His eyes rolled for good measure.
"Hmn. .. . If I were a vampire, would you turn me in?"
"If you're still as beautiful as you are now? No." It didn't really matter if he would or not, if she wasn't serious, so he might as well just keep her happy. It was an act of immediate karma, for the smile on her face made him feel light, and she rest her head against his chest, a small weight against him of warmth and tender softness. The same little body that could tear apart a dragon if pissed off enough.
She smelled like no other person he'd meant, like an exotic spice in a bathhouse, a place few people would ever had let him into even if he wanted to go.
"Goodnight Bishop..."
He grunted, not wanting the night to end so soon, but exhausted. They were close, it was a victory, why press? But one thing, he had to know.
"If you're a maiden, why did you ask me to come with you in the first place?"
"I trusted you." She replied easily, straight forward, without a moment to think. He lay awake a long time thinking about her words, listening to her deepening breaths and how evenly they fell, watching the gentle breeze tousle her shiny hair. He didn't know many poetic proses, but he knew she was something divine.
