To Catch a Thief (Elaebryn × Rania Lark)

[Rania Lark]

Anya’s expression changed to one of confusion as the barbarian asked if she had stolen the drunkard’s purse, her hand moving to abandon the thief’s wound in favour of draping her in a thick fur cloak, pulling it around her entire body to provide the warmth her nudity desperately needed. Anya shook her head through shaking muscles as she hadn’t even though of robbing the man in her desperate attempt at escape.

But it didn’t matter as the barbarian swiftly took the bundled thief up in her arms, slinging her over her shoulder as if she was nothing more than a pack to be carried. Anya’s arms were caught in front of her, trapped against her chest as she was carried roughly back to the thoroughfare and immediately back into the inn, up the stairs and back to the room she had just escaped. Her teeth still chattered in cold as her skin bristled against the newfound warmth as the barbarian proceeded to deliver her back to the bed she had just run from, leaving the door open to the room.

Once there, Anya hazarded a glance to the door behind the barbarian as her captor stood above her, staring down at her cloak wrapped body, only Anya’s head visible as the two had an awkward moment of silence extend between them. Anya’s eyes were terrified yet still calculating as thoughts of escape and methods ran through it. Anya didn’t speak either as the barbarian just….stared at her, not moving and not speaking.

 

[Elaebryn]

Silence lingered for several minutes.

With no words exchanged between them for some time, eventually the other woman turns away and crosses the small room to push shut the door and pull closed the window. Both are latched shut in turn, and then she returns to her previous position seated upon the trunk chest at the foot of the bed. There she goes about the slow process of undressing.

First the bracers: the hidden ends of the leather strips that hold them closed like shoestrings are pried loose from beneath where they lie, tucked beneath the banding on the proximal side; then, fingers of the opposite hand patiently work at fishing them out far enough to loosen the knot. Once loosened, the bracers are gently pulled down and off of a hand whose fingers have formed the shape of a blunt knife to facilitate removal. The ends of the leather strips are then tied again, to keep them from unraveling too much, and tucked back into their hiding place so they will not snag or tear. Only once both bracers are fully removed and properly stowed — she places them to one side atop the trunk chest for now — does she curl her hands into fists and visibly flex and relax her forearms several times. Though she makes no audible sound to accompany the motion, one can imagine a pleasureful sigh as she eventually clasps her hands with fingers entwined and flexes both at once, holds it for several seconds, and then finally relaxes.

Next are the mismatched pauldrons. The right, banded iron wrapped in leather and adorned with animal horn and fur, hides a buckle or catch somewhere near the front of the shoulder — for that is where her fingers delve, and eventually some obscured motion yields slack in the straps that cross her chest. As though reciting a series of motions by rote memory, fingers then slide up toward her neck and find purchase in some particular position that seems meaningless to Anya but which clearly holds meaning to her captor — for from this place, perhaps a juncture she cannot see, her captor's fingers move as though counting steps, then again disappear behind the right pauldron. Again the straps across her chest slacken, and this time the pauldron visibly shifts position downward, threatening to slide down her upper arm but for the steadying of a recently risen right hand.

Here, with her captor's arms both busy, is perhaps presented the best opportunity for Anya to once again attempt to flee — or at least to speak without fear of immediate reprisal.

 

[Rania Lark]

The silence was deafening for Anya, still wrapped within the cloak as she trembled, staring terrified towards the barbarian who had recaptured her. Her eyes traveled over the room, past the first escape attempt through the window as she examined the walls, the door. With the heavy cloak on, there was no way the thief could run to escape and with her nudity, she couldn’t run through the seedy tavern below without being caught by hands grabbing for her, thinking she was nothing more than a lowly whore. She was trapped.

As the barbarian began to move, Anya’s eyes were once again turned back towards her, struggling to shy away in the cloak wrapped tightly around her body as the other woman began to undress, pulling off her armour first with her bracers, exposing her forearms before stretching the confined muscles. She moved slowly, deliberately. Almost as if she knew her captive couldn’t escape.

But her movements were also very calculated, almost as if in a sort of routine, an order that had to be followed as she moved slowly. After a few moments, both of her hands were occupied and Anya scrambled up, untangling the cloak from around her body as she sat up in the bed, pulling the heavy fur tightly around her body, releasing her hands and legs as she pulled herself up against the headboard of the bed, her eyes wide.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, speaking as strongly as she could muster, “You’ve gotten your money back and I would only slow you down. I can’t fight."

 

[Elaebryn]

"Do you find the bed warm and pleasing?"

Uncharacteristically kind words are uttered in a soft tone, and by her deliberate pronunciation the formal cadence with which she speaks them is clearly foreign to the usually terse woman. She sloughs off her pauldrons and takes them each into the opposite hand, and then by lifting her arms both draws emphasis to the muscles of her back and draws them up and away from her body. She speaks while lifting them thus, then falls silent as her arms fall and the pauldrons are stacked — left over right — opposite the bracers, on her right. Again each movement seems practiced; measured; calculated. She needn't even fuss with the straps, for she places them down with timing just so that they fold upon themselves to fall neatly within and become sandwiched between the concave of left and convex of right. She turns then to look over her right shoulder, her torso twisting to present a profile view as she stands and briefly meets Anya's gaze. The moment is brief: soon she bends to unlace and remove her boots, which breaks eye contact.

The rest of her undressing ritual is faster, with less deliberate precision. Buckles and laces are undone on belt and boots, leaving only the ridiculous plated top and what could be generously called a studded leather skirt. These garments are revealed to be lined with fur on their interior surfaces, providing comfort and warmth to the wearer.

Beneath them she is naked.

Those garments of no particular concern are dropped in a heap on the floor, with boots on the bottom of the pile. Frontal nudity is revealed only after everything is off; she turns, then, and as before when Anya felt compelled to flee she makes as though to climb onto the bed.

"That is why I am doing this," she says as her hands find purchase on blankets.