mnt_raph | [OOM: On the Road]

[OOM: On the Road]

It's less than a day's ride from the Designated Tortoise to Corus, so Abigail and Raph saddled up Cloud and a loaner horse by the name of Colin and set out after just after lunch. They crossed into the city proper just as the shadows began to lengthen announcing the approach of night. Raph, who had spent his first few years in Tortall doing odd jobs in and about the city, had more than a few favors at his disposal. The best barn was open to the horses, while their people dined on the best fare at the best table, and later slept in the best bed the inn had to offer. Pretty damn auspicious way to start an Adventure, if Raph says so himself.

The following morning all travellers awoke refreshed and prepared for anything the day had to offer, which apparently a whole lot given the beautiful weather and overall quiet of the countryside. The group had only been travelling for a few hours when they reached that point in the journey where pleasant conversation falls by the wayside leaving only silence in its wake. The silence wasn't welcome. Making conversation was the only thing keeping Raph's mind from focusing on the any number of things he'd rather not be thinking about. Foremost on that particular list is the paranoia that at any moment he's going to fall off Colin.

In the nearly ten years that he has spent on this side of the door, Raph has only successfully ridden on Cloud for any extended duration. Horses, you see, make him nervous. So nervous that the horses, sensing this apprehension, can do nothing but react in kind. More than one has been guilty of throwing him from the saddle, and as such Raph has stuck close to Cloud and Cloud alone as much as possible. Cloud was there though out his seemingly endless Kane-like wandering of Tortall, and there was no way Raph was going to repay the poor pony's loyalty by making his cart his sorry ass around on another long journey. It just wouldn't be fair. Which is why during the four day trek towards the Swoop it will be Abigail riding Cloud, what with her being so much lighter than the bald Shang warrior riding to her left.

So far so good though, right? Colin seems to be behaving in spite of Raph's white knuckled death grip on the reins.

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"I can't say I don't like the sound of that," he admits in an uncharacteristically shameless tone to his voice. "I'll take your brand o' havoc any day."

Now, he can't go saying something like that and not expect Abigail to suddenly get a whole lot closer.

"Mmmm," is her reply, from very near his ear. Smiling, she touches his cheek, turns his head a bit, and leans in for a slow, very distracting kiss.

"The wine's gone to our heads," she laughs. "Any more and we'd need rope to tie ourselves up in the saddles."

During the kiss his arms wind their way around her waist again, pulling her towards him and onto his lap.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to sleep this off then, unless you'd prefer to use rope. A good ninja never travels without rope."

All this talk of home has him reverting to old job titles.

Ninja?

Abigail pulls back enough to give him a quizzical look, while also settling herself over his legs. "And what's a ninja?" she asks into his neck, just before kissing it.

A hissing breath escapes him as she shifts her weight and gets comfortable.

"Ancient order of shadow warriors. Hide in shadows. Move without sound. Lethal."

This adventure? Much better than every previous adventure to date.

"That's why you were allowed to come late to Shang," she guesses, kissing up to his ear. Then she whispers: "Move without sound?"

Abigail flicks her eyes up in a playful look and, almost as if she's experimenting, runs her hands under his tunic.

Playing fair isn't something that concerns her much.

There's not playing fair, and there not playing fair.
This is the italicized one.

He nods twice to answer her questions.

Slow and steady breathing is a wonderful thing. If he ever gets home, he's totally going to thank his sensei for teaching him...on second thought, maybe now isn't the best time to be thinking of one's father.

Especially not when one is using one's highly trained ninjitsu to maneuver one's lover onto her back. Though, he is true to his word, he doesn't make a sound.

Oh, he's good.

And Abigail, of course, isn't one to back down from a challenge, not when it promises to be so very entertaining. Before, she'd been amused at disrupting his plans; now she's going to have a fantastic time wreaking havoc on his control.

"Well done," she murmurs approvingly, by all signs perfectly willing to have him lower her to the ground. Once there, she even wriggles to get comfortable and shifts her legs so he can get closer; isn't she considerate?

"Mayhap we should test that will of yours."

With a sultry sort of smile, she lets her hands go exploring.

His measured breathing is starting to become unmeasured really fast.
"There's something you ought to know about ninjas," he manages to whisper, after much effort on his part. "We cheat whenever possible."

"Not above it myself," Abigail says, attention elsewhere, then seems to better process his words. She look up at him, eyebrow arched. "Oh?"

He nods, holding her gaze. He then smirks as he begins to kiss his way down her neck. "Real dishonorable lot, us." Then across her shoulder collar bone, and down her midline.

Abigail sucks in a breath and makes a noise that is part laugh, part Oh Gods, do not stop doing that.

No one said anything about her staying quiet, after all.

"Lucky for me, I've plenty experience with the sort. Tavern raised don't scare easy. Pick up some things, too."

He chuckles as he slowly hitches up the hem of her skirt. "I think you mean lucky for me."

Edited 2009-05-05 05:17 (UTC)

"Yes."

That's agreement and encouragement.

"'Tis true," she adds, shifting, lifting her head to smile at him as her nails lightly scrape his skin. "You're a lucky bastard."

Modesty doesn't concern her much, either.

Raph was much more modest with his human body before he spent a year in a coma, and then another year in a wheel chair. It's kind of hard to maintain a puritan sense of modesty when you can't take care of your own basic needs.

Which explains why the fact that they're out in the open, by the side of a major roadway, being shielded only by the shade provided by the the small copse of trees doesn't appear to bother him all that much.

One could say they're out there in front of God and everyone, if one were to say such things.

Abigail might say it, then laugh about it, but she's entirely too occupied removing Raph's breeches. Truth is, she thinks she's rather lucky, too.

Superstitious Tortallan that she is, she should know better than to have such thoughts at a moment like this.

The breeches are kicked off, her skirts pushed out of the way, and she's kissing him again when something rips through the branches of a tree across the road; and laughs, the sound somehow grotesque.

That...that is not a noise he has ever heard Abigail make before. And while Raph is very much enjoying the Afternoon Delight as it were, he's not so far lost in the moment that he's capable of making that sound himself and not realize it.

No...something is very very wrong.

The Stormwing gives another shrill laugh and hisses, "Filthy pigs." Flapping its sharp, metallic wings, it leers at them.

Abigail tears her mouth away, blinking owlishly at the creature. It's clearly a Stormwing, but having that knowledge and seeing it firsthand are very different things.

"Look who's talkin'."

Mouthing off is second nature for her, when presented with a threat.

"if it ain't one thing..." Raph mutters into Abigail's shoulder before turning to address the monstrosity. "Goddess help you if I actually gotta stand up an' come over there. Beat it if you know what's good for you."

Raph's actual concern is hidden behind a rather solid wall of bluster. He doesn't know much about Stormwings, but he knows that they don't often travel solo, which means that there could be more of them not far away. Raph begins to scan the periphery looking for the horses and his saddle pack...just in case.

"The filthy pig is very pink," the Stormwing smirks, ignoring the threats and twisting its head to gawk at Raph's lower half.

He's smaller than most, which perhaps explains why he's alone -- and he is alone, for the moment. Still, he's dangerous and knows it; his razor-sharp grin makes that clear.

Abigail pushes at Raph, trying to get free, as anger creases her forehead.

"Go away!" she orders ill-advisedly.

The Stormwing shrieks its amusement and pulls its wings in, getting ready to dive.

There's nothing like your lover arguing with a monster from divine realms to really put a kybosh on the ol' libido. Actually, if they had a better defensive position Raph might consider Abigail's behavior a turn on, but as they're out in the open with little cover...not so much.

"Keep low," he warns her as he moves, diving for his pack and the sword stowed there. The readjustment of his boxer as he does this is not in reaction to the comments made of his pinkness, but rather to aid his own mobility.

That's the story and we're sticking to it.

While she appreciates the warning, Abigail has no desire to stay where she is and present such an easy target. Once Raph is up and moving, she scrambles to her feet and makes for the horses, slipping and sliding along the way.

The sword Raph gave her is on Cloud's saddle. If she can just get there in time...

The Stormwing cackles and adjusts his dive to chase her.

With sword in hand and his tunic rumpled revealing his white and red hearted boxers beneath, Raph looks more like a man woken from sleep by a prowler than a highly trained warrior poised for attack.

He yells and lunges at the Stormwing, bracing himself for impact.

Abigail looks back over her shoulder, catching her foot on Cloud's lead as she does so. The slip knot comes loose; she doesn't bother to fix it. Ducking behind the pony, she watches Raph (foolish, foolish man) slip into fighting mode. It's impressive, but the sword doesn't look like it's any match for those sharp feathers and teeth.

She draws her sword from the saddle but almost immediately begins looking around for their bow and arrows. She's not what anyone would call a good shot, but maybe she can do some good, buy Raph some time.

It's better than standing around uselessly.

Luckily, the Stormwing has no desire to kill them outright. He flaps his wings at Raph, taunting him, never letting the vulnerable skin of his head and neck near the blade.

It pains Raph to think it, but what he wouldn't give for a Slayer right about now.
When his first few passes yield no tangible result, Raph holds his ground, lest his frustration get the better of him.

"Don't matter the size, or the armor, a chicken's still a chicken."

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