RP: Sera in the Tavern (moved from RP In the Tavern thread)

[hallianna]

 "No, sweetness, I want someone real." Isabela didn't move as Sera reached across her. She smelled like whiskey and honey and something...oh, something real underneath that, as real as the smell of sea and salt and sun-drenched sand was to Isabela.

 

It was certainly the realest thing she'd felt since landing in the Fade, or wherever the fuck they were.

 

And she wanted. She wanted suddenly and fiercely, and this little slip of an elf who didn't act at all like an elf was tugging on her. Making her want. Making her need.

 

Isabela's hand shot out, long, calloused fingers wrapping around Sera's wrist. The touch gentle but guiding, bringing the mouth of the bottle to Isabela's lips. The last drops hit her tongue, hot and spicy and perfect.

 

And the bottle crashed to the floor.
 

Comments

[serafadewalk]

"What, you serious? Like, just a little fun? With you?" Sera looked down at Isabela's hand on her wrist than up into her rich, golden eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, but there's a crinkle of worry in the corner of her eyes. "I mean, you're you, right? The Captain Isabela, right out of Varric's stories, you can't just want to snog me?"

Her free hand brushed at the front of her tunic which had a smear of purple on it, jam or wine, either way it was grubby. Grubby and small. While Isabela had a whole bloody ocean in her gaze.

She reached up and lightly brushed her finger under the hoop in Isabela's right ear, not touching skin, just setting the jewelry swinging, a faint tickling tug in its wake. She snorted then, rolled her eyes. "You're joking! You joker."

[hallianna]

THAT wasn't the reaction Isabela usually got. She tried not to furrow her eyebrows but wasn't succeeding.

But she also wasn't a quitter.

They were close - close enough to touch, to kiss, and as badly as Isabela wanted, she wasn't going to push, either. "I don't joke about this kind of thing, Sera," she said, voice low and soft. "So yes, I'm me and you're you and I think it's perfect but if it's not for you, well, that's okay, too."

Isabela pushed away from the bar and turned to give Sera a wink. It almost hurt to walk away, but she should have know. Should have known the Fade would mess with her, known this fucking place would get into her head and make her....fuck everything.

"Tell you what. If you decide you want to have a private party, invite me up to your little nook. Just leave me a note. I'm patient, sweet thing, no worries." Isabela looked pointedly at the bottle lolling between them on the floor. "And if it doesn't happen at all, well, we'll always have that bottle of Antivan whiskey."

She swished out of the room, doing her best to look like *her*. But her head pounded and all she really wanted, right then, was a quiet corner to get her mind straight.

Stupid fucking Fade.

[serafadewalk]

The pirate was frigging confusing. Sera watched her go with a squinched up scowl, her boozy face making it hard to focus on that swaying arse.

This was the part of people she never could quite grab hold of, the parts where they were smiling and lying at the same time and had reasons that were all talking and talking, but nobody said shite. Words were stupid in these situations.

But Sera couldn't stop staring at Isabela's swish, not until she'd gone out of line of sight, her mouth opening into a disgusted sigh. "You idiot, you shitebag coward, augh, Sera." She could go after her, could let all the whisky finish this conversation and find out how salty she was down there, maybe.

And maybe not. She was tired of this stupid place, with all these fake people, people who weren't hers and didn't belong here. With a huff she scuttled back up the stairs and into her garret, slamming the door so hard a shelf fell out of her bookcase, exploding a bee bomb that had been sitting there, forgotten and discarded.

Screaming, stung four times, she dove out the window in a drunken stumble. Really, despite it being the Fade and all, it was all good, plain average night for Sera, right?

Except being an idiot when chatted up by the Isabela. Not every night you get that quite so wrong.