lothliervrask

[lothliervrask]

The perfect kiss would be...

Loth narrowed his eyes at the shadowy figure. For a moment, he thought of many clever things to say, to tease. Maybe even threaten. Perhaps it was because he was a little drunk and the night had ended in disappointment. Maybe it was because he would simply rather show…than tell. 

He sank into the shadows, hands blindly reaching, finding a warm body. Long fingers curled around forearms, insistently pulling them against him. The body was slender, pliant. Yielding. 

“You ask me this,” he said in a rough, rumbling whisper tinged with this heady mix of irritation and excitement, “Because you want me to kiss you,” he hissed, turning his face until his lips clumsily slid against theirs. 

A startled gasp against his mouth, a tensed body pressed tightly to his own was all the permission he needed. The graceless groping of his lips became this rough, possessive thing, fueled by frustrated desire. His hand left their arm to bracket loosely around their throat, thumb pressing into the pulse point just to feel it flutter. 

Loth kissed without affection. The dominating slide of his tongue between parted lips sought to, for this moment, possess. Own. He made it lewd, sucking and licking into their mouth until he ended it with his teeth sinking into the plump of their bottom lip. A little bite, a sore place to remember in the morning long after he was gone. 

“That,” he said as he moved back, “was not the perfect kiss. But it’s the kiss you deserve for being sneaky.” He gave them a sharp grin before turning on his heel to make his way home. 

Thanks anoooon heh))

[lothliervrask]

Loathsome

This job would have to be handled differently than the rest. Pushing off the lamppost, Loth cast his smoke aside and followed her, the Florist’s sister. The only sweet, little sister in a sea of vicious brothers, not that he was fooled by her lithe figure and delicately pretty face. This little sister had fangs like the rest and her slender fingers were just as blood drenched. 

Loth didn’t like to be told what he should or should not know. When he dealt death, he wanted to know who fucking asked for it. He wanted to know who had the big, brass balls to pull the Florist’s card. 

He followed close enough that she could hear the snap of his polished shoes over the smooth street, steps a little too hurried to be casual. 

And there it was.

Her pretty face looked over her shoulder and saw him. Because he wanted her to. She walked a little faster, the silk of her skirts hissing around her ankles. Loth walked faster too. 

When she whirled on him, dagger in her hand, pretty eyes as cold and sharp as her brothers’, Loth held up his hands in surrender, a generous smile on his lips. 

“Peace, precious,” he murmured. “I merely wanted to know…if you had a light?” Slowly, he reached into his pocket and drew out two cigarettes. “I’ll share if you do.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked him over. Loth watched as she believed him because he was good looking and dressed well. He tucked his smoke between his lips and leaned in, real close, so she could smell his cologne. 

Luhdya Bratva sneered, but she tucked that wicked knife away and lit his smoke with a match she cupped a hand around. So…considerate. 

In the gap between her sleeve and wrist, he saw the ink of her tattoo spill up her arm. Then, she snatched the proffered smoke from his fingers and lit it. 

Loth leaned back. “Why…thank you. Now,” he said, holding out an arm, “I’m going to walk you home,” he informed her. “The hour is late…and men become loathsome at night, darling,” he murmured. 

Sweet Luhdya took his arm. Maybe she knew he was as loathsome as the rest. Maybe she didn’t. 

[lothliervrask]

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  various  dialogue  prompts  to  send  to  your  worst  enemy  (affectionate).  feel  free  to  change  how  you  seem  fit.  )

❛ oh great, it's you again. ❜

❛ you? kill me? that's funny. ❜

❛ for being someone you hate, i'm sure on your mind a lot. ❜

❛ you're the last person i wanted to see, actually. ❜

❛ do us both a favor. stay away from me. ❜

❛ you really are an asshole, you know that? ❜

❛ i'm the asshole? what does that make you then? ❜

❛ sometimes i think you must hate me. ❜

❛ i thought you said you never wanted to see me again. ❜

❛ if you want me to go, then you have to tell me to leave. ❜

❛ well, someone's cranky today. ❜

❛ well, someone needs to shut the fuck up. ❜

❛ just stay out of my way. ❜

❛ of all the idiots in the world, i'm stuck with you. ❜

❛ what is it you want this time? ❜

❛ sometimes i wonder if you're in love with me. ❜

❛ do you honestly think this is easy for me? ❜

❛ why would i ever want to be friends with you? ❜

❛ can we please just talk? ❜

❛ there is nothing for us to talk about. ❜

❛ you can yell at me later. just let me help you. ❜

❛ touch me, and you're dead. ❜

❛ oh, so now you care? ❜

❛ there is something deeply wrong with you. ❜

❛ i know i'm the last person you probably want to see, but... ❜

❛ you don't think we could be friends, do you? ❜

❛ i'm tired of fighting against you. ❜

❛ don't pretend you give a shit about me. ❜

❛ you're an idiot, but... i trust you. ❜

❛ oh, don't be cute. ❜

❛ wait, did you just say that i'm cute? ❜

❛ we're not good for each other. ❜

❛ if i say yes, will you shut up? ❜

❛ don't you have to be stupid somewhere else? ❜

❛ maybe we should kiss just to break the tension. ❜

❛ i'm sorry i can't turn off my feelings as easily as you. ❜

❛ maybe there's a universe out there where we're friends. ❜

❛ how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time? ❜

❛ don't think this changes anything between us. ❜

❛ you look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way. ❜

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜

❛ is that a challenge? ❜

❛ ah, so you're not heartless after all. ❜

❛ i don't think i've ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ you never cared about me, so why now? ❜

❛ why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? ❜

❛ i don't even remember why we started fighting. ❜

❛ i don't have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you're not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

[lothliervrask]

Moonlit Landscape with a View of the New Amstel River and Castle Kostverloren

By Aert van der Neer

Oil Painting, 1647.

Getty Center.

[lothliervrask]

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe

Loth purses his lips, gaze sweeping over her. Then he smiled. “Something sweet and dreamy, I think,” he said.

@thesoftshellmedic

[lothliervrask]

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe.

“While we don’t know each other, really…I do think this suits you,” he said with a wolfish grin.

@safrona-shadowsun

[lothliervrask]

TMI Tuesday!

Ask my characters anything, no matter how invasive! Ask for advice on any matter! Confess anything to them! Nothing is off-limits on TMI Tuesday! Practice good question karma! Send an ask to the person you reblog this from!

Anon in ON!

[lothliervrask]

LNW Starters — “Why don’t you come stand in the light?”

Lothlier startled a little, jaw tight, shoulders taut. Then he smiled with a huffed sigh. He stood in deep shadow, just out to the halo of the enchanted, blue glow of the streetlight. 

“Why…I ought to, hadn’t I?” He asked, his voice warm with amusement. 

However, when he stepped into the circle of light, his expression was stony. Cold. The usual crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the spark of mischief was gone. He looked a little disheveled, tired perhaps…as though he’d been standing in those shadows for quite some time. 

Loth’s gaze darted down the Row, tongue trailing over his teeth before he finally smiled and leaned a hip against the light post as he lit a smoke. “There. Better? I would hate for you not to be able to indulge yourself in getting a good eyeful.” His smile was sly, but his posture remained a little tense. As though he were waiting for something. 

Thank you, @lilyofporcelain!))

[lothliervrask]

“Where did you come from?” 

He gave a little half smile that never reached his eyes. “Fairbreeze, actually,” he said, tone deceptively light.

It was something in the way he said it or the deceptive ease of his posture all measured against the hard glint in his eyes…he, for once, seemed plainly deceptive instead of just cheekily mysterious.

thank you, @levengeeen))

[lothliervrask]

No judgment for what's been...paraded before us. Bravo, truly. But for some, curiosity strikes with the mundane: how does Loth present himself in his business affairs, I wonder?

Loth’s day started just as the sun rose. As he tried not to drink to excess the night before a work day, he rose easily enough to have some black coffee with buttered toast. He read over the paper, mostly habit, not real interest. He put some music on and groomed himself and dressed in a fine, black pinstripe suit, white shirt with stiff collar and cuffs, and an emerald green, silk tie. 

After he was dressed, he brushed his hair back in a neat tail, splashed on a little cologne (he preferred a blend of clove, smoky tobacco with a bright note of cherry), affixed tasteful, silver cufflinks, and slid on several, heavy rings. Loth’s townhouse was near the Royal Exchange so he walked to work. Neighbors and vendors were waved at politely and given charming smiles. 

As he did every morning, he brought the tellers at the bank coffee he stopped by a little shop to procure. He knew them each by name and greeted them warmly, but very professionally. He most certainly did not mix work and pleasure no matter how sweetly some of the tellers batted their lashes. 

His office was neat and orderly, not a paper out of place. Loth sat behind his desk and went through his appointment book. He didn’t lament the rather boring nature of his work. It required meticulous attention to the needs of his clients, whether they wanted certain investments made, property sold or purchased, or even giving him power of attorney should they become infirm. Sometimes he merely gave financial advice. Sometimes he was the executor of a client’s will. 

After doing some paperwork until well past noon, Loth saw his first client. Said client didn’t look remarkable in any way, just a gentleman in a well tailored suit carrying a leather briefcase. He simply looked like any other business man that visited the fiduciary. 

The man entered Loth’s office and set the briefcase on the top of the desk. He said nothing and sat down. 

Loth nodded, taking the briefcase and setting it on the floor at his side. “When?” He asked coolly, expression empty. 

“Tonight. Ideally,” the man said. “The Florist.”

Loth drew in a soft breath. “Who called for it?” 

“Better not to ask,” the man warned. 

Sucking on his teeth, Loth looked askance. “If I have…good access…”

”Understood. You should have everything you need.”

Loth looked at the clock on the wall and nodded. “I’ve an appointment.”

The man said nothing else and left the office without the briefcase. He passed an elderly woman who entered as soon as he left. 

Lothlier Vrask smiled at the woman and warmly and appreciatively took the plate of cookies from her and allowed her to kiss his cheeks and pat them. He reminded her of her grandson. So handsome and polite. Such a good boy. 

“Always a pleasure to see you, Mrs. Shimmerpool. Shall we go over your trust you want arranged for your grandson then?” He asked, after he thanked her for the cookies. 

They were oatmeal raisin. They’d go in the bin after she left. 

[lothliervrask]

“Looking for something?” She asks. "It's many better than you walk in the shelves of my shop. Maybe you'd like some advice ?"

When the moon shines, she likes to keep her shop open. She wasn't the only one to do it, other merchants do it too. It has almost become a tradition over time.

Loth stops his perusal and leans back, sweeping his gaze over the shopkeep, brow raised, chin lifted slightly as if momentarily surprised. 

“I do assume you’d like me to buy something,” he said, bemused. 

He turned his gaze back to the items on the shelves, though it was clear his focus was on the shop keeper. “You know, when trying to peddle your wares, it’s always best to flatter the customer. It tends to yield higher sales.”

When he turned to face the shop keep again, he was grinning, all boyish charm and mischief. “See? No one likes unsolicited advice.” He paused, smile crooked. “Never give advice unless asked. The wise won’t need it…and the fool won’t heed it. I wonder which one I am?” He asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he slid a gold coin on the counter, waggled his brow and left. 

thanks, cheeky anon ❤️))

[lothliervrask]

Send 💿 for my muse to choose a song that matches your muse's vibe

Please specify the muse for multimuse blogs.

[lothliervrask]

“A little late to be shopping.” 

He arched a brow as he came out of the sundry shop that was blessedly open late. Already, he was opening the sleeve of shortbread cookies. There was a fresh pack of cigarettes made with imported tobacco in his suit pocket.

“Can’t expect a man to wait until a respectable hour when he’s out of smokes,” he said, not mentioning the cookies.

[lothliervrask]

FAS —

Have you ever committed a particularly egregious crime? Anything you feel like sharing?

His brow rose and he laughed, rich and genuine. “Why…I’m just a humble banker,” he said with too much mischief to contain even feigned innocence. “As such, I assure you, I’m a fine, upstanding and…law abiding citizen.”

@lilyofporcelain thank you!))

[lothliervrask]

[TEMPERANCE] - Are they a patient person, or do they tend to act on impulse?

He gave a wry smile and a languid shrug. “Depends, really. Probably on who you ask.” His grin became amused. “But since you’re asking me? I’ve the patience of a saint.”

@losseignol thank you!))

[lothliervrask]

FFaF: What do you do to wind down?

His fingers danced with elegant precision over the ivory keys, his expression enraptured. As he played the last notes, his eyes fluttered shut digits lingering over the keys like the caress of a lover.

“Music,” he murmured. “Either playing or listening. It has a way of taking you far away from the present. It replaces whatever ails me with…,” he paused, sighing, “an altogether different sort of aching longing.”

@nahisummerhold thank you!))

[lothliervrask]

Let’s Dance

TW: blood and violence

Lothlier Vrask stood in front of a small, dingy mirror in the bathroom of the gentlemen’s club. It wasn’t that sort of club. There were no dancing girls. Just men smoking cigars and pretending to enjoy cognac. 

Jacket and tie had already been removed and hung on a hook on the door. Cufflinks came next which he slid into the pocket of his pinstripe suit jacket. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he caught his own gaze in the mirror. His lip slightly curled over his teeth and he was glowering. Yesterday’s job had been bungled. And even though it was through no fault of his own, Loth took the defeat squarely on his shoulders.

Once he pulled off his shirt, he scraped his shoulder length hair back in a messy tail, every movement harsh. Already, the adrenaline spilled into his blood. This is what he craved above all. His life didn’t leave room for relationships past warm acquaintance. But this violent, sweaty tangle of meat and bone? Was almost as good. It was enough. 

He strode, shirtless, into the center room of the smoky club. The lights had been brought up and men in rolled up shirtsleeves, coin in fists, wagered and conferred. Who would win tonight? 

Loth could see his opponent. A human man, a head shorter than he was, but he was wide, broad and barrel chested. The man had a huge, absurdly curled mustache and the same burning, brief lights in his eyes all humans had. Animal eyes. The quick assessment told him this human lacked several things he had. This man would not be as quick, he would not be as experienced. Loth had been boxing long before this temporary creature had been born. 

But he knew he lacked things this man had. 

The man, Stanley, as the ref proclaimed, could land one hit and take him down. He would hit like a force of nature with power behind it that his own lean frame did not possess. This opponent would need to be danced to exhaustion. He would fight him like a tiger hunted. Not sudden and brief, but patient. He’d run his prey until it was sluggish and tired. 

He liked the build of Stanley. It was very masculine. He had a softer middle and huge shoulders. He liked the power in that frame, the body hair was nice too. Elves didn’t possess it like that. He only had a little trail of it that peaked above his well tailored trousers. 

Rolling his head, popping his neck, he swung his arms to loosen them up and then pushed his way into the cleared space. 

They danced beautifully for awhile. Stanley surprised and delighted him with his footwork and stamina. It didn’t take long for both men to shine with sweat before one punch or jab was even thrown. 

Stanley attempted a haymaker when he got close. Had it hit? It’d have knocked out teeth. Loth’s heart soared and raced as he narrowly ducked under the wide, looping punch. He slammed his fists, one after another, into the other man’s ribs and quickly danced away. 

The feel of his knuckles slamming into the trunk of the other’s body, the dull, wet slapping sound, the sharp puffs of exhaled breath and pain were better than drugs. 

Better than killing because it didn’t end. It kept going. 

Loth knew his hubris would always catch up to him. Stanley caught him on the jaw, a glancing blow. It made him bite his tongue and coppery blood filled his mouth. Spitting off to the side, blood running down his chin and pinking his teeth, Loth returned the favor, breaking Stanley’s nose, shuddering in pleasure as he felt, then heard the crunch of cartilage and bone. 

They made it four rounds. In these matches there were up to six. Loth never let it go on that long and in fact, he usually won in three, and on the rare occasion he lost? He’d go down by the second round. 

Both men were tired, staggering, covered in blood and running perspiration. They stank of adrenaline, like ozone, musk, and the iron of blood. The crowd screamed and egged them on. 

Loth grappled with a clumsy, exhausted Stanley, flesh sliding against flesh, hot breath ghosting over swollen, bruised faces. Close enough to kiss. 

But it was then, Loth shrugged off the locked arms violently and put out the lights. A vicious uppercut rung the other man’s bell so hard he was down before his eyes rolled back and closed. 

The ref held his arm aloft as Loth grinned with bloody teeth, rubbing a hand over the center of his chest to feel gentle touch and the wild drumming of his heart. 

He basked in the admiration and desire and envy of other men, collected his winnings, ordered himself a haymaker gin and tonic and sat at the bar, pressing a bag of ice to his swollen jaw. 

Lothlier grinned, letting his eyes close as he listened to the next match happening behind him.