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Post by amber4 on Feb 22, 2016 20:59:41 GMT
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Niylah heard every shift in his breathing and felt as his chest moved—his reactions made her smirk as she nipped at his collarbone playfully, just as his hands began to wander... Down the length of her back, he managed to push the loose fitted furs she wore down her legs as far as they would go as she straddled him. His touch made her sigh with pleasure as she hooked her fingers into his pants. She tugged the remaining clothes that covered him down his legs just as his fingers brushed against her sensitive folds. In what seemed like only moments, he had her. His touch against her most sensitive parts drew moans from her that were muffled only by the howling wind. It took her a moment to get used to the feeling. For a while she pressed tighter against him; her breasts tightly pressed against his chest as she moaned into the crook of his neck.
She shuddered softly with pleasure and ran one hand through his thick locks while the other continued to explore him desperately. It took all her will to push herself up again and lock eyes with him. Hers were dark with desire and perhaps even feral to him as she worked to regain control over her own body. Her hips moved against his expert touch while she reached down between them to run her hand teasingly over his length. She stroked every inch slowly as she rolled her hips against his touch almost rhythmically as she leaned in to nip at his ear. Her words came out in a playful purr, “have you ever been with a girl from the ground before, Skaikru?” her grin was seductive and mischievous—it was clear she was enjoying this. Seeing him like this... Not burdened by anything and caught up only in a moment of passion.
A few more times she rolled her hips against his touch before taking his wrist and pulling it away from her entrance. It ached for him, but she wanted to be in control. She wanted to be the one to fuck him senseless and if she let him keep playing with her that way she would be his in a heartbeat. Instead she took his length in her hand and teased him—pushing the head of his cock against her entrance. She was already slick with arousal—thanks to his touch, but she wanted to see him squirm and thrust.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 22, 2016 18:08:38 GMT
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As Bellamy joined her on the bed, her hand traced his while he stroked her cheek with his hand. In that moment, it became less about her fear of being alone and more about enjoying the feeling of having him so close. Her eyes couldn’t be pried away from his, or the look in his eyes that mirrored her own. He wanted her too... She watched him until his lips pressed against hers again, only this time it was different. Smoldering; slowly building... Her hands moved to his chest to explore him and feel every muscle and every inch of his smooth and tanned skin. Blindly, she returned the kiss. Her lips parted and as he deepened the kiss, his hand moved under the thin undershirt she wore. Simply being touched made her shiver with pleasure, and though Bellamy took his time, Niylah was hungrily for more.
She kissed him harder; desperate as her teeth closed lightly around his bottom lip. She tugged it lightly before hooking her leg around his hip and rolling them over. Her hands moved to his chest to support herself as she straddled him with a mischievous grin playing at the seams. He was so gorgeous... Messy locks, deep skin, muscular and so much more... she couldn’t help taking a moment to breathe it in before tugging her shirt off. She pulled it over her head and discarded it quickly before leaning down to kiss along his neck hungrily; her lips devouring anything they could as her hips rolled against him.
Her fingers trailed down his prominent hip while her free hand rested beside his head to support herself while she worked to take off his pants. The need for contact had been burned by desperation to feel him... all of him. Funny how one smoldering kiss could trigger such a reaction. She had already forgotten what started this... Hell she didn’t care.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 22, 2016 4:54:52 GMT
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He was calming her—more than he knew. Even though he couldn’t save her from the memories he was still rescuing her in his own way. When he wrapped an arm around her, she couldn’t help feeling safer. She felt the tense muscles in his chest, indicating he was still in pain, but he was trying to hide it and shift the focus onto her. It was silly to think that a woman like her craved contact like this... she rarely received it. Most of her time she was alone, so to have someone soothe her and care about the images she saw in the dark was strange but addicting. Her fears had never been justified, therefore she received no sympathy. When he told her to lie down she froze... She didn’t want to be alone. A bed wouldn’t change that. The covers would weigh her down, the folded supports would muffle her whimpering but she would still be alone.
There was no way to explain that to him, or to anyone. Weakness was disgraceful and to show it here would be no different. Admitting that she was too weak to fight off the memories and sleep alone wasn’t possible. The words just wouldn’t form. Niylah looked up at Bellamy for a long moment before reaching up with her hand on the back of his neck. Her fingers ran through the waves of dark locks and she pulled him towards her slightly but firmly while she looked up at him. Inches away, she still couldn’t find words... Instead she kissed him—slowly at first as thoughts raced through her head a mile a minute...
She didn’t just want this as a distraction. She genuinely wanted him, though the circumstances were hardly appropriate. Still as she pressed against him tighter she couldn’t help noticing everything from the way his smooth curls felt between her fingers, to the way his muscles felt against her skin. Even the intensity and the way he looked at her gave her more reason to want him... Though in this moment, she couldn’t handle the separation. Her arms laced around his neck and she pulled him into a deeper kiss as she lowered herself onto her bed. She kept her arms around him, pulling him closer—praying he’d follow... This wasn’t something she did often. With Clarke, it hadn’t been about Niylah’s need for affection, but about distracting Wanheda from the guilt that plagued her. This was different... Almost new to her. “Lay with me,” she mumbled into the kiss, shifting farther back to give him room on the bed.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 22, 2016 3:24:11 GMT
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She didn’t hear him saying her name in his soft tone. She was too far into this resurfacing memory. The sounds of breaking glass and the feeling of being thrown against the wall, against the counter, down to the floor—she didn’t hear a damn thing over that, but when he took her arm it wasn’t him. It was that god damn bounty hunter pinning her wrist down with his knife only inches away. She wasn’t a fighter, but she had a warriors response. With a feral snarl she was brought out of sleep. Her hand moved to the dagger she always held on her person now and she kicked Bellamy back with fury and lunged blindly. In less than a second she had the knife against his throat, pressed against it enough to no doubt cause pain. Her eyes were wide as the feral fury slowly faded—but she stayed frozen in place without taking a breath.
Her eyes were locked with his for a long moment before she stiffly let the knife fall to the floor so that she wouldn’t hurt him, but the fear was momentarily paralytic. “Moba,” she let out stiffly, with a slight shaking in her hands before she brought them back to her sides and took a breath. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to...”
It would be worse if she hurt him. Her eyes flashed to him to try to gage whether or not he was okay. She hadn’t cut him but the kick to his chest couldn’t have been good. Shaking still, she moved to make sure she hadn’t really hurt him, but her panic was still very very real. So real her English was lapsing. “Yu ste laksen?” are you hurt, she asked unconsciously in her own language. She was shivering, but she tried to get a look at him.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 21, 2016 22:54:56 GMT
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Ignoring Bellamy’s attempts to care for her was getting easier as his lids grew heavier. Instead she leaned against the wall and watched as he started to drift away. The heavy and swollen bags under his eyes had nothing to do with the biting cold outside. How much of that was exhaustion, and how much of it was stress. “Rid op,” she murmured quietly. She hoped that the storm would keep him housebound until he was able to get the rest that he needed. As he drifted, Niylah rested against the wall and watched him intently. The strongest ones were always the ones who carried too much. It seemed silly to think, but how could somebody so beautiful suffer so much. She wanted to take away that pain more than anything, but this was something a healer couldn’t resolve... She needed to accept that and do only what she could.
With Clarke, she saw the same thing... Awestruck by everything that the woman had done for her people, she tried to sing her praises—to show her how much what she and her people did meant to her but the biggest heroes were the ones who made the biggest sacrifices. Bellamy clearly had made far too many. As he slept, she listened to his breathing and listened to the howling wind outside. The wood stove kept this room so warm... She was sure that Bellamy would make a good recovery. She would help him get back to Arkadia in the morning if he allowed her... She knew these woods like the back of her hand... His even breaths were almost relaxing. It lulled her in a matter of hours when she was confident that he was going to be fine.
As she slept, she slipped down the wall and curled up on the floor near the wooden stove with a loose fur pulled close. She was perfectly comfortable there, and for a long while she slept with no interruption. The howling wind turned into background noise and Bellamy’s breathing was matched by hers unconsciously—but sleep was rarely eventless lately. After the attack, her nights were wracked with fear at the memory of that damned bounty hunter. She was so sure she would die—from the first hit. Her dreams had taken a harsh turn, forcing quite whimpers to escape her lips as she tossed and turned. Without heavy blankets to hold her, her leg hit the bed. It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make a sound as she gripped the furs tightly. She hated these dreams... They came fast and sometimes she couldn’t remember them but she always remembered how easily he beat her.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 21, 2016 4:01:24 GMT
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“That they can,” Niylah responded with a small smile as she walked towards some basic supplies. She took a large box and began to fill it with rope, dried fruit, some furs, flint, steel and even some paralytic poisons that assisted when hunting large creatures. She brought the box to the counter and set it down between them. “This is good to get you started; you can take what you need from this, but look around. There are many things here that may interest you.” No destination, so why was the girl here? She was far from villages, far from anyone... She certainly wasn’t Azgeda—but she had seen her face before on bounty hunters drawings... Wanheda. It had to be her... Disguising her hair in deep red dyes, hiding away... Niylah watched her with wide eyes, fighting her curiosity.
She didn’t want to be found, and Niylah wasn’t about to scare her away when she could help her.
“I live here with my father, but for now yes. I’m alone.” She smiled lightly and reached down to grab some dark, dried pigments they used to paint their faces. It was useful for camouflage. “You can use this, when you’re hunting. It’ll help you blend into the trees, and it will stay on longer than clay.” She offered Wanheda a smile and leaned on the counter. “Do you have anything else you wish to trade, or would you like us to take payment through the meat?”
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Post by amber4 on Feb 20, 2016 7:47:17 GMT
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Niylah ignored Bellamy as he told her he could sleep anywhere. He seemed almost paternal in a sense, where he wanted to care for those around him even though he clearly needed to be cared for. She couldn’t help her small smile as she pulled back the thick blankets on her bed and moved to get him settled. “You don’t have to take care of me, Bellamy.” Despite the room being warmer, you could still hear the wind howling mercilessly against the trading post. The walls shook under the pressure and even Niylah grew stiff with worry. “Somebody has to make sure this place doesn’t blow away while you sleep.” She offered a small smile as she pulled the blankets back up again. Now that his condition was improving, was he going to be a bigger pain? She wouldn’t let him talk himself out of being looked after.
She stood up again and began blowing out candles in the shop, leaving only her room well lit and one candle in the window in case her father did return. “I will rest when the storm passes.” She made her way back to the bed and sat beside it on the ground with her back against the wooden wall beside her.
Her thoughts took a turn she didn’t want them to take—though she didn’t know why she would feel as hurt as she would if he left without telling her. It was silly to think like that, but she wanted to know he was okay. “Bellamy if I fall asleep, wake me before you go so that I can make sure you’re better.” Niylah’s words were firm. “I don’t plan on sleeping until I know you won’t slip away on me, but just in case.” She looked up at him and rested slightly against the side of the bed. “Are you... okay?” she didn’t mean health wise... She kicked up a lot of dust and toyed with his demons, whether she intended to help or not.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 19, 2016 8:10:58 GMT
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“Well,” Niylah breathed as she gestured to the crowded walls and shelves. Every inch of the trading post was filled to the brim with survival supplies, meats, fruits and oddities. “Take your time and look around. Surely something will interest you.” She was a warrior. No, Niylah didn’t assume because of her weapon. It was the way that she carried herself. “Silence,” she let out a short yet still musical laugh. Her smile was more sinister than it was genuine. There was rarely a quiet moment when both she and her father were under the same roof—but when he left... it got almost unbearable. She would wait in the back room, listening to the wood stove crackle as a way to fill the silent void. Funny that this patron looked for the exact thing Niylah tried to evade.
Such a pretty face—Niylah’s eyes locked on the warriors with a slight furrow to her brow. She was used to men coming through and trying to sway her with honeyed words and flirtations but rarely did women ever approach that way. Perhaps it was conceded of her to even assume. “Well unfortunately we don’t accept tips for trade,” she said coyly as she stood up to direct the woman’s attention towards the weapons they acquired. The words did make a hint of a smile play at Niylah’s lips—but it was amused.
“I do apologize for... well the chaos. We haven’t had a chance to organize. Things come and go so quickly, but we do have some very well made axes over here. Sharpened them myself; and reinforced them.” She pulled out a large axe with a handle and weight meant for two hands. She called it an executioner. “This is one of my favorites,” she held it out to the woman with a smile still in place before cocking her head. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s a warrior doing all the way out here?”
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Post by amber4 on Feb 19, 2016 7:37:10 GMT
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Bellamy clung to his guilt like a rabid dog clutching a cut of meat, and Niylah couldn’t say anything. She was not shocked into silence, but instead simply did not know what to say. How did you argue with a man who had already sentenced himself to a life of guilt. How many deaths did he blame himself for? How much guilt was he carrying alone? When war happened, an army killed thousands—but no one man had to hold onto the guilt of those who did not have to die. Heda did not show that kind of conviction either. Death was a part of the never ending fight... Innocents died. All Niylah could do was listen to his self depreciation. “If there had been any other way, Bellamy, you would have done it I’m sure.” She let out a low sigh and once again felt his temperature and ran her fingers through his knotted locks.
Jus drein jus daun. Words she had grown with... Words that were embedded into the heads of every single whelp the moment they learned to speak. Blood must have blood. A never ending cycle of war—finished only by a sea of enemy blood. The world was painted red by those words, and yet they were the pillar of her people—so much so that Bellamy knew them and used them... It made her cringe, though she was not innocent. She wished she did not believe in them, yet until the mountain fell she felt an impossible void; a hunger for the rivers of blood they were owed. “Jus drien jus daun.” She repeated heavily with a deep frown. Her expression was twisted into one of disgust for that very idea. Violence answered with violence. It was the only way justice was ever given.
The sounds outside made her stiffen, if only for a moment. The wind hit the small post with all the fury of a thousand storms, but they were safe. “Come,” she said as she stood and carefully moved the furs to make it easier for him to stand. She couldn’t carry him, or she would have. “You need to lay down now. You are warmer... and this... isn’t helping you.” She swallowed hard as she considered her words. “You’re drowning yourself in guilt. I don’t know how you...” another sigh separated her words. “You seem so strong. You are... You have to be to carry that around with you...” She reached down and wrapped her arm around him, under his shoulder to help him. “You need to rest. I’ll watch over you to make sure you are alive.” She offered a small smile while she moved to pull him up.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 17, 2016 6:09:29 GMT
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“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this! You’re going to kill yourself trying to find her!” The yelling took place in a room joined with the trading post, and no doubt the conflict could be heard. There was desperation in Niylah’s voice while her father packed another bag filled with supplies—this time it was enough for a week. Maybe more. “She’s gone and you know it! You’ll get taken by reapers! Or the Skaikru! You can’t keep leaving for days and weeks at a time you’re going to get yourself killed alone out there—“ still he packed; looking through Niylah as though she weren’t even there—pleading with him to stay; to rest. The pale man that shrugged his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room did not look like a man that could take another journey. He hadn’t slept. He was aged beyond his years, and before he saw the young warrior he seemed entirely unresponsive.
“Niylah will help you,” he said simply as he walked past the woman slowly before heading out the door once again. Niylah heard him speak, but she needed a moment. Slowly she drew in a breath and pulled her hair back before wrapping a braid around it to secure it. No, she wasn’t crying. That would be childish... but she was angry. A compassionate woman could be furious... but really she was more helpless than anything. She couldn’t control her father, which meant she could not help him... she was embarrassed that whoever was out there heard the conflict, but she was quick to put on a straight face before she walked out of the room and into the post.
“My apologies—how can I help you? Are you looking to trade?” Niylah offered a stiff smile as she looked over the warrior across the counter. She was battle hardened and attractive—which was a dangerous combination she knew. She did not often get warriors in the shop. The intrigue was a nice distraction as she curiously took in the woman. “I have not seen you here before.”
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Post by amber4 on Feb 17, 2016 5:46:30 GMT
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There was something so familiar about the girl... Niylah looked over the large deer with a small and proud smile. “You’re stronger than you look; bringing it all the way here.” The young woman’s smile was almost playful as she took the long drag. “We can skin it; salt it and prepare it for you. We take a share of the meat and the fur. The rest is yours.” Slowly she dragged the heavy buck back towards the wooden stove in the back room. Her brain was still trying to tackle where she had seen the woman before... That rounded face and the smell of stain in the air between them set alarms off in her brain... Then she remembered a lone bounty hunter from earlier that day. There was a rough sketch of Wanheda on a piece of cloth.. Blonde, rounded face and charcoal smudged eyes.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, she thought boldly while she analysed her latest customer’s words closer. Nothing she said gave her away.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked as she peaked out with a small smile from the back room before she came back out to stand behind the counter and look her over with curious eyes. Her hair was wild and feral, and though her face was stained with dirt she seemed too soft to be one of her people. The thought made her laugh... Wanheda being soft... Though, her eyes were heavy. Exhaustion perhaps? “Are you travelling?” Niylah was a talkative woman at the worst of times, so the question seemed natural for her to ask. Not prodding.
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Post by amber4 on Feb 16, 2016 5:16:47 GMT
Dance in the Graveyards by delta rae
Niylah lost her mother, but she has a unique way of mourning lost ones.
Though there will always be sadness when someone passes, she wants to be remembered in joy.
I feel like Niylah would identify greatly with this song, more than the video.
There is a part near the end with a mother and daughter and that does choke me up though.
When I dieI don’t want to rest in peace I want to dance in joy I want to dance in the graveyards, the graveyards And while I’m alive I don’t want to be alone Mourning the ones who came before I want to dance with them some more
Let’s dance in the graveyards
Gloria, like some other name we kept on calling ya and waiting for change But I belong to all of your mysteries
And all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires So when we go below don’t lose us in mourning
Oh my love, don’t cry when I’m gone I will lift you up, the air in your lungs And when you reach for me, we’ll dance in the darkness
And we will walk beyond Our daughters and sons, they will carry on Like when we were young, and we will stand beside and breathe in their new life
’Cause when I die I don’t want to rest in peace I want to dance in joy I want to dance in the graveyards, the graveyards And while I’m alive I don’t want to be alone Mourning the ones who came before I want to dance with them some more Let’s dance in the graveyards
Under Pressure by queen
I love this song for Niylah-- because she's a very compassionate woman.
She sees everyone's suffering and the things people on both sides go through.
She wants world peace! Like a trashy cliche beauty queen.
I feel like this song properly portrays her desperation and her outlook.
Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you, no man ask for
Under pressure that burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets
It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming, "Let me out!"
Tomorrow gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets
Chippin' around, kick my brains 'round the floor
These are the days - it never rains but it pours
People on streets - people on streets
It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming, "Let me out!"
Tomorrow gets me higher, higher, higher...
Pressure on people - people on streets
Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a fence but it don't work
Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn
Why, why, why?
Love
Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love that one more chance?
Why can't we give love, give love?
'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Under pressure
Pressure
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Post by amber4 on Feb 16, 2016 4:51:47 GMT
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Niylah did not see the mountain as a colony of innocents, but rather their greatest enemy. She saw the mountain as a very large creature that turned her kind into beasts and killed the ones they loved. In her eyes, Wanheda—and the sky people didn’t kill hundreds. They killed one. They cut poison from their land and saved all of them... So when Bellamy said that he killed more than he saved she didn’t flinch or get scared. She didn’t see him as the monster he thought he was, but rather a hero who was forced to make very difficult decisions... But she could feel the guilt he carried, and honeyed words wouldn’t lift that from his shoulders even if she wanted them to.
Instead she drew in a long breath and toyed with the edge of the second fur that covered him and looked at it intently while he spoke. She wanted to tell him, you couldn’t see good that wasn’t there... but she still was searching for words. Then he mentioned her mother, which tugged at the corner of her lips some. It may have been a sad smile, but she still liked hearing it. She was told that she was like her often... sometimes she wondered if it was why it was so difficult for her father to be around her now. Still, she didn’t leave because she knew he needed her here.
“I don’t think I can make you see what you’re blind to.” She said after he thanked her. It didn’t fall on empty ears... but she owed him so much that putting some furs on him and keeping him talking seemed so little. “I know what our people did... What our commander did,” her brows knit with frustration, even if technically Heda was the one who freed their people, she didn’t avenge the ones who were already gone. It made her stomach knot that their leader could show such weakness... She understood caring for the living was more important, but for those they already lost... for the reaping that would no doubt start again—she owed the sky people. People like Bellamy. “Those deaths should not be on your hands.”
She straightened up and turned to look at him head on before pressing a hand to his still frigid head. “Out there you can think whatever you want about yourself. You can say that you’re a murderer; that the people you save don’t outweigh the people you hurt but in here you need to see your worth.” She offered a small smile before wrinkling her nose a bit. The close proximity to the grease on his cheeks made her throat tighten. “Even if you do smell like shit, you’re still a hero in my eyes.” She stood to get something for him to eat, and also to get away from the smell, but she didn’t stop talking. She was still trying to find a way to show him that he wasn’t the monster he thought.
“When the armies got to the mountain, my mother had already been killed—but you gave us what our commander did not.” Her words were heavy while she set aside a rustic bowl and served some dried meats and thin cuts of fruit. “You gave people like me justice, and that means the world. It means that what happened in the mountain will not ever happen again—that the reaping is over and there will be no more reapers raiding our villages... If you count the people you saved simply by doing that the numbers would be in the thousands.” When she came back with the bowl she was smiling a little; hopeful that what she said made sense. “Our people are not yours, but all blood is red, and we all have souls.”
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Post by amber4 on Feb 16, 2016 0:54:54 GMT
| TRY NOT TO RUN FROM THIS FREEDOM ALWAYS HAS A PRICE TO PAY |
Niylah watched quietly as her father packed a large bag with supplies. She knew by the size of the pack that he would be gone for a few days this time... Running the trading post had become her task and responsibility, along with drying and salting meat and skinning game for pelts. He rarely had a hand in it after her mother passed. Without argument she took on the extra burden and watched him back his bag with trading supplies every morning before heading out—sometimes for weeks at a time. When he turned to say goodbye, she nodded once from her place by the stove where she was carving a large buck. It made her look small in comparison.
The entire trading post was filled to the brim with survival supplies and oddities like the thick metal bracelet on her wrist. The sky people brought it—and a small part of her found meaning in wearing it. After all, she had their leader to thank for the liberation of the mountain, and the justice delivered to those who took her mother away and left her family in such distance. Having this bracelet was the closest thing she had to a memory of her death... Unconsciously, Niylah traced the metal with a furrowed brow as the door to the trading post shut loudly. The sound made her jump before resuming her work on the buck.
Just as she made her first cut into the bled creature, the door opened once again. “One moment,” she called in trigedasleng as she finished her cut down the beast’s belly. She pushed herself up and made her way out from the back room; wiping the bloodied blade on her coat. Her eyes flicked back up—expression serious as she took in the momentarily unfamiliar woman. “Do you have something to trade?”
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Full Member
Single
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Amber
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Sept 12, 2021 19:33:59 GMT
EST
Tag me @niylah
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Post by amber4 on Feb 15, 2016 23:27:59 GMT
Thank you so much you beautiful person   |
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