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lyallxargent · 6 years
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opheliaxazarel:
Her hands rested at his sides, slender fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, a gesture that spoke of casual intimacy and closeness. Her head was angled all the way back, a smile on her lips as her eyes darted over his features while he spoke. For all her scatterbrained nature, Ophelia was very good at remembering names and faces, could even recall people she had met in the years following her creation. And even then, Lyall stood out in the crowd. 
Ophelia stepped back enough that she could take the offered shirt, draping it eagerly over her shoulders, not because she was cold, but rather so she could be wrapped up in his familiar scent, his warmth still clinging to the linen. 
“It has been such a long time! A long, long, long time! But I’m glad that your family is doing good, you guys are so cute and fluffy!” She exclaimed, making excited squishing motions with her hands as she spoke of the mighty wolves as though they were like her beloved stuffed animals. “Oh, you have a friend here? Well it can’t be me, because we didn’t know the other was here! Who did you come to see? Maybe I know them!”
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          Lyall gently brushed his fingers against her cheek, affectionate and familiar. It really was nice to see her--the smile on his face spoke to that just as much as it spoke to his amusement at the way she spoke of his family. He could think of a couple of his siblings who wouldn’t appreciate that--his brother Phillip, in particular, had always been particularly sensitive about being thought of as cute, which of course meant they’d all teased him mercilessly for quite a while. Lyall himself didn’t mind it though; not in general, and certainly not from Ophelia.
          “No, not you, sweetheart,” he agreed with a shake of his head. “Thought now I know you’re here, I’ve got two friends here, which is even better. No, Jude--well, Professor Rigby. Miss Jude, I think she goes by here. Do you know her?” If she didn’t, she ought to. Everyone good ought to know Jude, in Lyall’s own, totally unbiased opinion.
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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nataliemercer:
Natalie nodded, happy that she had his name right. She took another sip of the water, this time a small sip because she didn’t want to drink too much. His tapping distracted her and she watched his fingers, trying to figure out if it was a nervous habit or if it meant something. At her name, she looked back up this face and nodded. “Yeah, I’m Natalie. You remembered.” A slight flush grew on her cheeks at the memory of their last encounter. That had been embarrassing. “Uh… about the last time we met…” 
She trailed off, emotions flowing through her. But when he spoke, her mind caught up with the confusion she felt for the adjustable chains. “You mean they can extend out for someone to either fuck me or inspect me like a piece of meat.” She muttered, growing disgusted with the school for doing this to her and for people wanting to do to her and the other slaves. “Thanks…” She murmured. 
The brunette nodded when he answered her, it made sense and she suspected as much when he maneuvered the heavy chains so easily like it was nothing. Natalie shook her head. “No, it’s not a problem. Werewolves are fine. I know plenty of decent wolves.” They were probably some of the most humane species on the island she came across. “I just suspected when you moved the chains.” 
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          He waved off the mention of their last meeting, though the pink her cheeks made him smile just a little. It was endearing, was all, that she could find room to be embarrassed about kissing him on a dear when she was currently naked before him. Still, he simply said, “No, don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse things happen to me than a nice girl kissing me on a dare. It’s fine, sweetheart.”
          The smile he’d found faded quickly when she took his meaning about the chains, his expression shifting--anger and disgust hidden poorly behind a blank face, because Lyall was not very good at maintaining a poker face outside of actual games. “Yes,” he agreed stiffly, his voice tightly controlled. “That is the less delicate way of putting it. You needn’t worry about it for the moment. I don’t think anyone will bother you while I’m here.” Because while he was there, it looked like he was inspecting her, not that he needed to point that out.
           He nodded at her observation about the chains--he hadn’t thought about it, but he supposed it had been something of a show of strength. Her answer suggested that there were some species that would have been less fine, but he did not prod her further. Lyall himself had no particular problems with any other kinds of supers, but he could not entirely fault someone in this place, in her position, for perhaps being wary of some. Instead he said, “Good eye. I’m glad you know good wolves. I tend to think we’re mostly good.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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alexisxgrover:
Alexis saw the way his face contorted as she used that word. She didn’t like using it either. She didn’t like the way it twisted in her mouth and it tasted on her tongue. But she was concerned with the present company. She shifted a little where she was before taking a bite of the granola bar. 
She was watched as so much seemed to flash across his face. She liked him, she didn’t know him well but she could tell there was a gentleness to him which she admired and wanted to trust.  
“I will call you something else if you want.” She glanced around a little nervously. “I-I just…you can’t be too careful.” She explained as she glanced down. A sense of strange guilt bubbled away at her. 
“Yeah, I’m kind of surprised I made it down to sitting without falling on my butt though.” She said hoping to lighten his spirits perhaps a bit. “I’m not the most graceful. I haven’t really slept much, so sitting, sitting is good,” she sighed and nodded her head. 
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        “No,” he said simply, shaking his head. That almost-forced smile turned quickly to something reassuring, and that came more naturally on his face--soft and warm and tender. 
       A glance around to make sure there were no guards too near, eavesdropping, and then he reached out gently to touch her knee--only briefly, he did not linger, lest he make her uncomfortable--and said, “It’s alright. I understand the necessity right now. Just so long as you know that it’s not me requiring it.”
       His smile turned to a faint, surprised chuckle at her next remark, his cheeks dimpling slightly in his amusement. “Probably best you stay down then, hm?” he teased gently. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate and clumsiness and get up just to knock your bottom getting back down.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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          Lyall did not often visit the grant students’ dormitory. The basement was dark and sad and a very unnecessary reminder that not all of his students were on equal footing. He remembered well enough the way of things here without going down into the cells. And yes, maybe it was selfish of him, to avoid the darkness that his students could not escape, but--well, what good could he do them if he allowed himself to be weighed down by that darkness, too? 
         Better for him to hold himself above water as much as he could. 
         In any case though, he was venturing down now, in search of one particular student--one of his, or soon to be. She was new, and studying his subject, and perhaps her newness would not be significant to most professors, but to Lyall, who taught mostly on an individual level and could not contain entirely his hatred of the system here--to Lyall, her arrival was significant. And so he wandered through the cells until he came to B03, where he attempted to look harmless as he rapped on the bars and said, “Hello? I’m looking for ah--” A glance at the note he’d scribbled on his hand and then, “Sasha? Miss Sasha Bell.”
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@sashaxbellx
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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TIN PAN ALLEY
Behind a pair of heavy double doors, a bouncer waits for those who wish to enter. There’s no password, not really, but he’ll still peer at you through the slot before allowing you in. Down a flight of nondescript stairs, and you’ll step into the past…
Tin Pan Alley is a jazz bar that aims to take you to a world of 1920s glamour. The full service bar offers a variety of custom cocktails, as well as absinthe, for daring or simply curious patrons. Plush velvet couches surround tidy tables where you may sip your drink, or sample dishes from the kitchen, and a catwalk loft wraps around the bar, offering more intimate, curtained alcoves for those seeking privacy.
But the real draw is the stage. Tin Pan Alley is, first and foremost, a performance space. The lounge hosts local musicians and aspiring talents. Jazz might be the bar’s main genre, but all are welcome to audition to book the stage. With just enough space in the cozy lounge to allow for dancing, Tin Pan Alley is your destination for a night out on the town-ski.
Owner: Lyall Argent
Employees: –
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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paintsplattered:
There were very few people on the island that Marigold wasn’t intimidated by on the island outside of the safety of both of her jobs.  Different as they were, they both offered protection while she was within their walls and allowed her the freedom to relax somewhat.  While she wasn’t particularly bothered by her nudity or the chains, the shadow falling over her visage was enough to make her heart jump for just a moment, especially when she didn’t immediately recognize the male that stood before her.
But when he spoke, his voice was gentle and kind, not a trace of the dominance that his figure might have suggested to be found.  Not a single glance to her bared form, nor it seemed of those that surrounded her.  And an immediate introduction at that.  Instinct made her want to immediately trust the stranger, but she hadn’t managed to survive this long after her rude welcome to the island by trusting every seemingly kind person that crossed her path.
Hesitantly, she gave Lyall a small smile.  “Marigold Martin, or just Mari, Sir.”  Was she hungry?  There were slight pangs in her stomach, she had worked the party the night before which meant that she had missed breakfast before being dragged into the ballroom.  Teeth cutting into her bottom lip, she paused for a moment before nodding.  “A bit.  I worked late last night, only woke up to be brought to this.”
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          “Nice to meet you, Mari,” he said, his own smile turning encouraging at the sight of hers. Let her have this moment, at least--one moment of not being afraid of what the person before her was going to do, because he, at least, would not harm her. 
          “Well, that was rude of them, making you skip breakfast.” It was more than rude of them to put her here in the first place, but they both knew that, surely. Lyall wore his thoughts on the matter plainly on his face--he’d never had much of a poker face outside of the actual game. 
          It took a bit of effort to reign his expression back in, put back the jovial smile that was only briefly shaken, but put it back he did. Deft fingers unwrapped the bar he was holding as he inquired, “Are you allergic to peanuts? I have other choices in the bag if you are, but--” He cut a conspiratorial look around them, as if checking to see if anyone was listening, before adding, “This one’s the best. More chocolate than the others. Chocolate makes everything more bearable, Marigold.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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rowanxaubri:
“Appetite is never an issue for me.”  Sexual or otherwise, at that, but the comment was more offhand than anything as she took in the completely empty coffee shop.  “Did we just stumble into the zombie apocalypse without realizing it?  Or the rapture?”  It felt that deserted, but then she reasoned that if it were the former at least, the body out front would not have been there.  And the latter … wasn’t there something about clothes being left behind?  There were none of those.
Rowan was so busy considering the possibilities that she barely noticed the brush to her lower back, but the launch of the werewolf over the counter did bring her more back to reality.  It was a stunning display of coordination that she wouldn’t have been able to pull off on even one of her best days.  No, the toes of her feet would have gotten caught and she would have just wound up diving head first over the counter.  Sure, she’d still get where she was trying to go but likely wind up with an injury for her efforts.
But also pastries.
Rather than taking the werewolf’s route, she gave a little shrug and walked around the counter, crouching in front of the back of the display case and grabbing an armful of muffins.  Oooh, and some of those cereal bars.  And a couple of bagels - okay yes, appetite definitely wasn’t an issue for her.
Standing up with half of a cereal bar sticking out of her mouth, she dumped the rest of her loot on the counter before taking a genuine bite out of it.  “You wouldn’t happen to know how to make a frappuccino would you?”  Though the idea that this might become an ongoing thing didn’t sit right with her … and neither did that smile.
No, something was definitely off.
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        He tipped his head to the side as he watched her gather her loot, considering the lines of her, the way her body moved. Not exactly graceful, perhaps, but soft--human, and wonderfully so. He liked the smell of her.
         Only when she straightened up did he stop his examination, a laugh that was slightly more like his usual self escaping him at her question. One eyebrow arching, he said, “Frappuccino?” like a man who was tasting the word for the first time. A shake of his head, a bite of croissant that was decidedly, well, wolfish, crumbs flying before he wiped chocolate from his tidy gray beard with the back of his hand.
         “I’m afraid not,” he told her, setting his own loot down--a decent ways from hers, because now he’d seen her pile he did not trust her near his snacks--and poking curiously at a very shiny espresso machine. “I don’t even know what that is. Or how to work this thing. Whatever happened to good old fashioned coffee?” 
          He pressed a button on the machine and it hissed menacingly. Lyall stepped back. For half a second, he was not whatever monstrous thing this storm had warped him into--he was himself, staring distrustfully at a bit of technology.
         And then he raised a fist and smashed it against the espresso machine, cracking a handle off and leaving a dent that rendered it no more than a hunk of metal. 
          “Useless,” he said, shaking out his fist and turning back to Rowan.
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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heyxxjude:
The unfiltered angry thoughts coming from Lyall didn’t scare her; even outside of the magic of the storm, they wouldn’t.  Because she was well aware of the leash she held when it came to his fury, knew the alpha would never hurt her.  But the storm brewed, and her own ire matched his.  So it was with joy that she pulled her fingers away from the crimson fur and watched the wolf run, leap, and attack.  Cool joy trickled through her at the screams, bare feet seeming to barely touch the ground as she approached the now incapacitated victim.
“I can’t let you have all the fun,” she cooed towards the wolf, her smile turning cold as she looked down upon the screaming professor and caressed his cheek.  It was almost tender if not for the trail of neon blue that lingered on her fingers and her gaze, the most delicious idea for retribution coming to her in that moment.
With that touch came a vision, the very same predicament torture that she’d once been subject to.  Only her tormentor had to choose between the jaws clamped around one ankle or having his other set fire.  Jude had every intention to let each slowly move up their body until it was fully consumed.  And keeping them conscious for every painful moment.
A tilt of her head towards the werewolf and she was reaching for him with her other hand, wanting to share in her vengeance.  Wanting him to see that those wonderful ideas that had managed to cross his mental block were met and matched, wanted and needed.  “Let me show you what he sees, love.  Enjoy this with me.”
          There was something truly magnificent about watching Jude take her revenge. A growl rumbled out of jaws that were still locked around the professor’s leg at the familiar sight of her magic, bright blue and beautiful--not an angry sound, this time, but a strangely pleased one.
         He knew all of the cliches. An eye for an eye makes everyone blind, one who desires revenge should dig two graves, on and on. Right now they did not matter. There were few people in this world he trusted more than Jude Rigby to decide who deserved punishment meted out to them, and no one who deserved punishment more than those who had hurt her.
         Lyall made a point of dragging his teeth through fragile flesh as he pulled away from the professor’s leg, swiping blade-sharp claws along his abdomen as he stepped over him and into her reach. A rippling of teeth and fur and then the wolf at her side was gone, and in it’s place, the man. Lyall knelt at Jude’s side, his face stained with red, and held out a hand that dripped with blood.
         “Show me.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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alexisxgrover:
Alexis was trying to keep herself empty. She figured some of the masters got a kick out of slaves that were aggressive and would lash out. She assumed those were probably the more crueler folk, looking for someone to punish. She didn’t want that sort of attention. She would be obedient to whomever won her of course but if she could avoid this sort of thing. Then she would be okay. 
She was expecting a master that she didn’t know to be standing in front of her. But instead it was Lyall, who she had met just the night before. Jude had introduced them, she didn’t know him well at all, but generally Alexis had a good read on people and he seemed…kind. 
Her green eyes softened as he came and sat down in front of her. She was in her chains and they jingled as she shifted forward a little. She studied him for a moment, and as he called her sweetheart her mouth nearly curled into a smile. Though she felt herself resisting it, she couldn’t be soft right now. 
She looked down as he offered her the granola bar and water bottle and she smiled. “Thank you Master,” She said not sure if it was safe for her right now. Even if he was kind, you never know who could be lurking. She moved slowly as she took the granola bar from him first. “Could you open the water for me?” She asked in a low voice. Alexis gave a small nod if he asked if she was hungry. “I’m okay just…very tired.” She admitted with quietly as she let her eyes drift to his face. 
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          Lyall’s face did something complicated at the word ‘master’. It was not a title that would usually bother him--in the right context, he would probably enjoy it, and outside of that, well, he didn’t much care what people chose to call him, so long as it wasn’t ‘Gregory’. 
          Now though, sitting in front of a girl who was, by his measure, really very young, who’d been chained up on display against her will--it was a reminder he did not need.
          He did not correct her though. A wince flashed across his face, then turned into a deeper grimace at the realization that he was, in fact, wincing, and then it disappeared into a smile again with what looked like a fair amount of effort.
          Lyall was not well acquainted with disguising his emotions.
           “You’re welcome, dear,” he said, uncapping the water and holding it out for her. His hands were steady, but it was only his determination to be reassuring that kept them that way; he could still very clearly see the vision of Jude in this chains. 
            “I don’t blame you,” he told her, his voice intentionally jovial, only a little bit forced. “I’m tired just looking at those chains. At least you’re able to sit, hm? That’s something.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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keynvor:
        “I’ll keep that in mind.” She purred as she smiled up at him—this was warm and genuine, perhaps a hint of concern flashing in green hues but she was quick to bury it—being vulnerable here for either of them would be a folly indeed.
“Why is that?” She asked, letting her expression slip back into a pout. “Is there nothing I can do to help?” She’d heavily inflected on one word rather than the one she had wanted to. Help. She liked Lyall, and the idea of him suffering on his own didn’t quite sit right with her.
Goodness when did she start to care so much about other people.
She shuffled slightly, stepping forward to really put herself in his space.
“But mayhaps that can be arranged, I have missed your company after all and I have enough glitter to last me quite a long time, and quite a lot of skin coverage.”
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          “Haven’t been feeling quite myself. Bad weather a while back,” he said, by way of explanation. “Maybe I caught a cold.” A bad case of self-loathing was nearer to the truth, really, and while he might have admitted it elsewhere, here and now did not seem like the time for his usual policy of open honesty. 
          “I’m alright, love,” he said, and he certainly looked it at the moment--a very pleased grin had spread across his face now that she’d stepped into his space in all her nude and shimmering glory, coupled with a hint of pink on his cheeks that was just visible above his graying beard. He shifted closer, wrapped an arm around her waist, so that she wouldn’t have to pull against her chains to reach him.
          “Of course, your company wouldn’t hurt. My father always said a smile is the best medicine, and you’ve got a healing smile if I ever saw one,” and there was a hint of teasing in that, but mostly it was genuine. She had a nice smile. “Perhaps when this is over, you’ll take a walk in the woods with me.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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opheliaxazarel:
Ophelia scrubbed the water out of her eyes and smoothed her wet hair back from her face, squinting against the sun up at the tall man, a grin working its way onto her features. A happy squeal fell from her lips and she slapped her hands against the water in excitement. “Mr. Lyall, Mr. Lyall! How wonderful it is to see you!” Ophelia instantly reached for the offered hand, allowing him to pluck her right out of the water and onto her feet once more on the deck, soaked to the bone but looking as happy as could be. And she was. Without warning, the tiny angel flung her arms around Lyall’s waist, enveloping him in the tightest hug her skinny little arms could manage. “You do quite well with damsels, as I recall.” She teased, head tipping back to look up at his face. “I came here looking for someone! But there were not here. Were never here, it seems. But it’s okay! If I didn’t come here, then who knows when I would’ve seen you again!” And that was Ophelia downplaying and trivializing all the events that had happened to bring her to the institute, but she did not think Lyall would need all the gruesome details. They had other, more interesting things to catch up on anyhow. “What about you! How did you come by this place? How are you? Are you doing well? It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Oh, I missed you very much, Mr. Lyall! It’s so good to see you again!”
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          Lyall hugged her back with little more than a surprised laugh, the sort of tight embrace that involved hands wrapping around to squeeze shoulders, spoke of real, genuine fondness. Most of Lyall’s hugs were of this sort, but this one was, perhaps, especially so. It had, after all, been quite some time since he’d seen Ophelia.
          There was a touch of color to his cheeks at her teasing, but he winked at her all the same, shrugged his shoulders as he allowed, “Well, I do alright. Especially with the very sweet ones.” He let go of her with one hand in order to push a lock of wet hair off her forehead as he listened to her brief explanation of how she’d come to be here, at The Institute. He was not so naive as to think it was as simple nor as cheerful as all that--as far as he could tell, things rarely were in this place--but there was no use spoiling a perfectly good reunion by pressing her. 
          “I missed you, too, sweetheart,” he assured her brightly, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it before stepping away enough that he could consider her, soaking wet but otherwise very much the same as he remembered--ignoring, of course, the collar around her neck. His own story was offered as he shed a layer of clothing--the thin linen shirt he was wearing over an equally thin t-shirt--and offered it to her. “Let’s see, when did we part--my, the years fly, don’t they? I’ve been all over the place since then, but most recently I was back home, with my pack, only there’s so many packs in the area now, really an abundance of alphas, and my family’s all taken care of, so... I needed some place to be, and a dear friend works here. Teaching seemed as good a way to spend my days as any. Here, put this on before you get cold.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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nataliemercer:
Natalie didn’t know the man too well, beyond knowing his name and how he kissed, she hadn’t spent that much time talking to him after all. They had exchanged a few words after, but she had been too embarrassed after making out with him like that to talk that much. But, he had seemed genuine when she last saw him, and she was desperate for any help. Natalie was going to trust him. “Lyall, right?” She asked as she looked over the snack and water with hunger in her dark gaze. 
Licking her lips, she looked at the bottle, but then he surprised her by reaching for her chains instead. She stiffened slightly, afraid at first, but only relaxing when he loosed the slack on her chains. “I… they could do that?” She asked, her eyes wide. This whole time, Natalie hadn’t known that the chains could be adjusted to give her a bit more room to move around. Taking the water bottle, she took a very large drink, the cool water feeling great on her throat before finally pulling it away. “Thank you. I… really appreciate that.” Her dark eyes moved to the chains. “You… aren’t human, are you?” 
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          "Lyall,” he confirmed with a nod, a little smile. Still holding a granola bar, should she decide she wanted it, he folded his arms over his chest, fingers tapping rhythmically on his arm--a long-standing habit, songs tapped out in the pat-pat-pat of his fingertips. There was something a touch more anxious than usual about it today, the rhythm a little bit off, but his smile was calm. “And you’re Natalie.”
          He huffed a quiet laugh at her surprise about the chains, shrugged his shoulders. “Well, don’t get too excited, they’re adjustable in case someone wants, to, ah--” What had the words been? He didn’t remember, only that they’d been unpleasant. He settled on, “Get a better look at you,” the disgust clear on his face. “Anyway, you’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.”
          At her question, he raised his eyebrows, head tilting slightly. “No, dear, I’m not,” he said with a shrug. “I’m a werewolf.” This he told her easily, comfortably, any trace of the shame he was still grappling with after the storm shoved down deep to be dealt with later. His was more curious than anything else as he added, “Is that a problem?”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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nataliemercer:
Natalie hated everyone on this god forsaken fucking island, she thought to herself over and over again as she stood there chained up while assholes looked over her like she was nothing more than a shiny new toy. She hated it the most when they touched her or when they hit her or worse. The only good thing was that they weren’t supposed to do too much damage because she was supposedly supposed to look good for the bidders. That meant no bleeding and bruising. Or at least it was frowned upon. 
She had her head down at the moment, glaring at the floor as she tried to think of anything but where she was and what she was experiencing. She tried thinking of her home, of the book she was currently reading, of the last episode of the show she had watched on Netflix. So when she heard a voice, she was ready to chew them out but stopped when she knew him. She had kissed him once on a stupid dare. Natalie’s face relaxed a little and she eyed the water and granola. “Yeah, water would actually be really nice.” She was getting tired and standing was getting hard with these chains. She tried reaching for them, but was stopped by the chains around her wrists. 
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          He didn’t blame her for the brief moment where she looked like she’d rather fight him than accept his help. Had he been the one in chains, well--he’d have been the one snarling and snapping and threatening anyone who dared come too near. He didn’t begrudge her her suspicions, but he was grateful that she at least tucked them away long enough to give him a chance, to accept help.
          “You got it,” he said, but didn’t hand her the bottle. Instead he turned to the chains on her arms, considering them. They were adjustable, he knew, and though they hadn’t been made that way with the intention of making it easier for students to eat and drink, well--he was happy to take advantage of it for his purposes. Whistling a rather jaunty tune, he gave the chains a yank, pulling until he was sure she had a better range of motion in her arms. “There we go,” he said, and then he finally opened the bottle for her and held it out.
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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Have you ever masturbated to a fictional character or celebrity?
          “Well, uh--let’s just say I’ve loved Marilyn Monroe for a long time.”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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@alexisxgrover:
Alexis was sitting now, she was exhausted. The chains were heavy and she had not been able to sleep the night before, she couldn’t stop tossing and turning thinking about who would be the one to get her for a week, and what sorts of things they would want from her. Sure there might be a few people who would be kind to her, but there was no guarantee. She didn’t trust that, and she didn’t have faith in that.
Still it could be worse, she had heard the horror stories of other events. She tried to remind herself that no matter what happened she would be strong enough to get through it. She sat with a vacant expression as people past by and assessed her. Looking over her form and considering her for whatever they pleased. She shut herself off to this. The walls went up, she knew it was the only way to protect herself. Don’t say anything, don’t do anything, just keep still.
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          The supplies in his bag were dwindling. He should have brought more, should have brought a bigger bag. The satchel on his shoulder could only carry so many bars, so many bottles of water, and there were so many students in chains.
          His heart ached. He couldn’t help seeing Jude in all of them--Jude at age eighteen, Jude so excited to go away to school, Jude who had gone through things here that he was now being forced to imagine.
          As he came up behind Alexis, that vision asserted itself stronger than ever. He saw Jude in the tired line of her slight shoulders, in the waves of blond hair. Lyall was not a man who lost his temper often, but for a moment anger swelled in him. What had this place done to the young woman he loved so much? What was it doing to so many young people now?
          Exhaling a long breath through his nose, he quelled his anger and shook off the image. It was not Jude before him. Jude was safe, Jude was not even here right now. It was not Jude in those chains, but Alexis, the sweet young woman he’d met just last night, and while he could do nothing to change what happened to Jude when she was a student, perhaps he could help ease this moment for Alexis. He focused on her as he came around, taking a seat in front of her, legs folded beneath him. It was tempting to reach out and take her hand, but he reminded himself that everyone was not so comforted by touch, and instead pulled a granola bar and a bottle of water from his bag. 
          “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, smiling softly at her and holding them up. “Not exactly burgers and shakes, but we can do that another time. How are you holding up? Are you hungry?”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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@paintsplattered:
It wasn’t the nudity that bothered her, nor the helplessness.  Marigold was accustomed to both at this point after just over a year on the island.  If anything, she was probably one of the few slaves that saw hope in the raffle that she found herself in.  No matter what, Milo couldn’t touch her for a week.  A week.  She wasn’t so dim as to think that it meant her safe, her claim was hardly the only awful person at the school.  But there was a glimmer of hope that she might have seven days of kindness.
So she didn’t attempt to cover herself, or fall prostrate at anyone’s feet, merely tried not to look quite as miserable as most of those that surrounded her as she took in the figure that had paused in front of her naked form.
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          Lyall kept his gaze carefully up as he made his way through the bound grant students, determined not to be another pair of ogling eyes. This was not particularly hard, given his height, though that was, frankly, the only advantage of his size today. It might have made it easier for him to keep his eyes to himself, but it also made him a little bit intimidating, which was the last thing he wanted to be right now.
          Well. Maybe that wasn’t true. He did actually want to intimidate the other masters--especially those who were actually his colleagues, those who were paid to mentor and protect the students, who were currently doing none of the above, and--okay, no. Getting angry was not going to help with the intimidating thing. 
          He took a deep breath as he approached the next student in his path, made an effort to calm himself and put on his kindest smile. He didn’t know this one, not that that was surprising, given how little he’d been out of late, but she seemed to be holding it together better than some of those around her. With one hand, he held up a water bottle and a granola bar as he came to a stop in front of her. “Hello,” he said, his voice very soft and dripping with sympathy. “We haven’t met. I’m Lyall. Lyall Argent. Are you hungry, sweetheart?”
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lyallxargent · 6 years
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#Dirty
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