Gaheris's smile is like quicksilver - sharp, a little dangerous, somehow beautiful for its grace. His hold on her chin tightens just slightly,  in a way that assumes control of her whole body. 

He's an elf. He's not particularly strong, but he is stronger than her. "That's all I need to know, then."

His lips touch hers and his tongue parts her lips gently - it's soft, a caress that has earned him delightful sounds from many of his conquests. 

You can say all you want about Gaheris Kildare, but you can never deny he's well versed in the ways of the body and the mind. 

To her utter and eternal horror, she just squeaks. 

Oh jinn of the secret places help her she has no idea what she is doing-

No. She has learned many secrets they said should not be known. Passed many trials. Been obeyed by beings of a greater kind. She will have him. She does. 

She is not so unschooled. She has heard the words of the great love poets of old, carried to her on forgotten winds by genies of the air. 

She entwines her fingers around his neck. 

"That's it," he purrs, his voice as amused as always, but carrying a little fondness. "Just relax into it, sweetheart. You're not scared of me, are you?"

He leans away slightly, worried, and tries to read her expression. He does care... He wants her to be comfortable with him.

"You've no reasons to be nervous anymore, have you? You've got me right where you want me, doll." His mouth twitches up at the last statement. 

"Scared of you?!" Her fingers tighten. "No!" 

Comfortable isn't the word she'd use. She feels - too full of energy, like when she climbed the Lodestone Mountain in a thunderstorm to feel the touch of the sky. 

...Maybe she does have him where she wants him. She's never really tried seducing anyone before, but of course it would come naturally to her. 

Everything does. 

At least she didn't have to Compel him. 

Her fingers clutch at his hair, pulling, tilting his face towards her. Her fingertips trace over the tip of his pointed ear. 

(Her education has been rather specialised; she doesn't know how sensitive they are.)

Ris shudders involuntarily, reaching up with his hands to stop her. He looks a little dazed but gives her a stern yet playful look. "Not yet, darlin'. It's too early in the night and there's more fun to be had in this city."

He does obligé her with more kisses, though. Each is more searching, yearning, than the last, and eventually his hand curls around her hip, tugging her closer. 

She pouts. That isn't right. He shouldn't reject her just to wander around the city. When he reaches for her she slips easily into his lap on spirits of the wind, wriggling into him, clutching at him. 

It's not exactly comfortable, and he winces, doing his best to hold her weight (which he does with grace, because elf).

He can't quite figure her out, and it's making him nervous. He's good at knowing which buttons to push, but he's at a bit of a loss here. He wants more information - needs more, before this goes any further. 

Because it will. Because Gaheris.

His thumb skates over the sensitive sliver of skin just above her hipbone before pressing down, firm and insistent, to hold her still.

"Soraya, I... I want to do this properly," he grits out at last, trying to think with his brain and not his uh. Extremities. "Will you let me?" 

She glares at him for a long moment, and her eyes are too wide. 

"...Yes."

In a moment she's standing, her yellow silk robe swirling about her as though caught in a breeze. 

"Come on, then."

He catches her hand as he stands, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of it. His eyes are lowered to it, in an outward show of appeasement, nearly submission.

"Thank you, my lady. Shall we find some music?" His grin is charming and exciting, holding possibilities like only elven lips can. 

She smiles, suddenly, like the moonlight. 

What a charming man he can be. When properly reminded. 

"Take me there."

He will take her somewhere that he remembers to be lively, but sophisticated, preferably with elven music and dancing. She would probably like that, he thinks.

And it gives him an excuse to stop by the tavern and put on something a lot more suggestive, but simple - a sheer green tunic that bares his back in a sharp v-style cutout. His skin underneath gleams golden, and his muscles are like poetry in the shimmering soft light of the place. 

Elves are rare. Rarer still in the City of Wands, very far from their distant haunts.

He did hear rumours once of a noble elven family living here - perhaps they would know something. Or there are plenty of lively, if a little strange, local places.

Well, it's too long to trouble an elven family that may or may not be friendly with him - elves are temperamental, he knows that much at least. 

A local place it is, then. He's not dressed too weirdly for it to be more than a second glance, and Soraya, of course, is resplendent and more than a little intimidating with her cool haughty glare. Reminds him of a very dear friend of his, who lives very, very far away... 

He's enjoying the stares they get together, preening and winking and grinning at all the attention. His arm lingers around her waist casually, loosely, but it's a very clear signal that anyone interested in them should stay away for the night. 

His molten-copper eyes gleam. He wants her all to himself, tonight. 

He'll get two drinks for them, and offers one to her. 

She murmurs something sinister and her eyes flash.

It's curiously unsettling. Some of those strange syllables seem to be - stuck in his head, like a fragment of song. 

She frowns at the drink. 

And then suddenly she smiles brightly, takes it and drinks. 

She doesn't normally drink. It's an effort not to splutter. 

She swallows. 

"So," she begins - what does one say in this position, "tell me of yourself."

He shrugs casually, glancing over to the dancefloor. He's not done these dances in a long time, so it will take a little adjusting, and he wants to get a head start before he leads her into one.

"Grew up on the streets not too far from here. Ma was disgraced from the palace - she used to be a courtesan, you know - so I started picking up things to take care of her. By the time I was thirteen, I was running most of the urchin operations in the district." He flashes a grin like the quicksilver he loves to steal.

"I left again when I got a job on the seas that paid much better than anything I was already making, and it set Ma up for good." He sips his drink, swirls it pensively. "Spent a lot of time between the land and the sea, and ended up moving back to the land for good about ten years ago."

His eyes are shuttered as he thinks about the time on the ships, but the shadow passes quickly.

"How about you?" he asks in a low voice, grazing rough fingertips over her bare arms. 

Her gaze is calculating for a moment. 

"I was apprenticed here, to an old man, a wicked old sha'ir. I was... unhappy," something in her voice tightens, "and I took my sword and slew him." She hasn't made a habit of confessing that. It's not something she likes to remember. At least she made it quick. 

"He had taught me very little. But enough. How to call the genies of the air. I was careful, and they showed me many things. I dwelt among them for some time before I heard of the airship, and I knew that I must see it for myself. And then I found you."

Her gaze is penetrating.

And then her voice drops. 

"Tell me about your time on the sea." She says. "I know it hurts you." Her voice is like stone. 

He tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear as she speaks, but his hand freezes in midair at the command. 

"I would rather not, actually," he says sharply, knocking back the rest of the drink quickly. 

She frowns. 

Places a small hand on his wrist. 

"Who was she?"

His brows twitch, like he's about to lift them but thinks better of it. Gaheris stares at her for a moment. Perhaps she does care?

At the very least, he's not about to get into his deep-rooted issues with sexual slavery. 

He puts his glass back down with a decisive 'thunk', and pulls her in by the waist.

"No one important," he rumbles, smirking down at her. "Now, are we going to dance, or not?"

Her eyes glitter for a moment. 

He's hiding something and that's not acceptable. 

She will learn the truth. She will. 

And then she stands, and takes his hand to dance. 

She has absolutely no idea how to dance, but she must not show weakness in front of him now. 

"Whoa, easy lass...". He purrs into her ear, bringing her close and fastening his arm around her waist. His footsteps are light and graceful, and he guides her easily, doing his best not to make things complicated.

"Just look at me, yeah? It gets much harder if you try to focus."

He smells sweet and smoky, and at this angle he can look deep into her eyes, wearing that warm, charming smile. "You're beautiful, you know. Not just your face, of course, but... The mind beneath it." Gaheris looks at her with a little wonder. "I've never met anyone quite so determined, so fiery. So clever, either." 

How can it get harder if she focusses. When she is focused she can do anything. 

Apart from dance, apparently. 

"Of course you have not," she says impatiently. "I am the greatest wizard I have ever met. Efreeti speak softly to me." And she still can't dance. 

He quirks a brow, adjusting his hold to be tighter on her - all she has to do is be malleable to his moves, and she'll glide just like him. 

"Should I be worried, then? Should I be speaking softly too?" 

That is all very well for him to think he is an elf she is doing all she can not to trip over her own misbehaving feet. 

...Fly. 

All right, now she can't trip over, at least. 

"What? No, I- no." She blushes bright red. 

Gaheris tips her chin up with a finger, rough and calloused in all the right places from years of banditry and thieving. 

"You puzzle me, Soraya," he tells her seriously as they move. "I find myself struggling to... Open to you, but I want to. I do, darling. I'm just not sure what you want with me."

His voice is hoarse, his honesty bracing. He's a player and a liar and somehow truth looks beautiful on him. 

Struggling to open to her. She could cast Knock. If she put everything into it at Eighth Circle that should do something. 

Maybe, if this doesn't work. 

She's not going to read his thoughts, that's too much bother while they're busy dancing. But...

...Maybe she should just try the truth. 

"I... found myself drawn to you. I should like to be around you more."

Gaheris rewards her with an absolutely blinding grin, the like of which seems to distract the other dancers a little (elves have this effect). His rogueish charm is back in check immediately, and he winks, sweeping her around.

She doesn't even really have to do much because he's almost lifting her off the floor. 

"Well consider me to be very gladdened to hear that, my darling."

They'll spend a few more hours drinking and dancing, and Gaheris will gently encourage Soraya to speak to some of the locals - they can be strange, and passionate, but friendly and kind too. 

He's had enough to feel pleasantly light on his feet, and now his eyes trail Soraya around the room intently, like a cat. 

She is extremely uncomfortable with this. 

The folk of the City of Wands are fools, at turns surly and secretive and argumentative and bloody-minded, clever enough to work out how to dabble in occult forces but not clever enough to work out that that is a terrible idea. Unless you're very good indeed, like she is. 

She would rather like to be spending time with Gaheris. But if this is what he wants, she will tolerate it.

For now. 

He wants to see how long she'll tolerate it, actually. He's always there, with a smirk and a drink and a simmering look in his eyes, waiting, but he wants to see how far her patience stretches. 

She'll have to learn, eventually, that this is what he savours. The cat and mouse game of it all. 

She does, to her credit, manage another few minutes. 

She wants to do something like make every couch and cushion in the room come to life and carry everyone away so they can be alone, or grab him and Plane Shift them into a comfortable private suite in the City of Brass, or something, but she restrains herself. Wizardry and wine do not well mix. 

Instead she simply steps in front of him the next time she can. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" She can't keep the hurt from her eyes, but she can stop the lightning crackling between her fingertips, mostly. 

Ris hisses when a stray spark catches him, but he is drunk enough that he doesn't hide the glimmer of interest that peaks in him at the pain. 

He flicks his tongue over his lips, drawing closer to her again, swaying his hips just so.

"I'm not avoiding you, darlin'. Quite the opposite. Seeing you move, seeing you so fiery and defiant..." His breath ghosts over her ear, hot and light. "It makes the waiting more agonising. But it will make the bedding that much sweeter." 

Oh, that's an interesting response, that reminds her of - yes - 

- she could reshape his mind to make him feel like he's on fire, it would be hard to do so reversibly but not impossible -

- that feels like too far -

- then he whispers in her ear and every thought goes flying out of her head and she just stands there bright red. 

"Go back out there for me, darlin'," he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Give me a damn good view. And the next time I call you back, you'd better be ready for me to have my way with you." 

...She's, er, she's actually feeling quite faint. 

Oh look the ground that looks like a better idea. 

She folds over, slowly, and collapses to her knees on the pile of cushions, her head dropping between her legs. 

Oh gods this is so embarrassing - a twitch of her will and she could burn the whole place down - 

"Soraya? Soraya?" His voice takes on an edge of panic, and he catches her before she can hit the floor completely, and rests her on the couch. His hand remains on her lower back, moving soothingly over her skin.

"Are you alright?" he asks gently, a concerned frown on his handsome face. 

"I- I'm fine!" she says too loudly, cursing herself. 

"I- I really do not know how to dance."

"Can I- let me-, here," he says, handing her a glass more of wine. "Or is it that you've had too much?"

He's not quite sure what to do, but at her confession, nods hurriedly. "Yes, we can leave. I've had enough of it too, for now, and I would rather spend the rest of the night with you in any case." 

She had half a glass. She drinks uncertainly. 

She staggers outside, leaning on him, wishing the ground would swallow her up. 

...She probably shouldn't wish that too hard. 

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. 

"No need," he assures her, a gentle arm around her waist. "Can I take you home?"

He's doing very well at hiding it, but he does still desperately want to take her home. The gleam in his eyes is subdued, but his touch lingers on her arm, the soft skin of her waist, as he brushes her hair gently away from her face. Gods, he wants her. 

"Y-yes please." Her breath is still coming in little gasps. A familiar fear claws at her, not knowing, not seeing, every word like treading a tightrope-

Gaheris is not too sure what to do, even though he's had some experience with this sort of thing. A few of the new kids on the ships would get short of breath sometimes, out of fear. 

What is Soraya so afraid of?

He starts to lead them back to the ship, holding her gently, murmuring soft encouragements to her, and doing his best to just not make this worse. 

Because with Gaheris, it could always be worse. 

...Lock. Shield of the Winds. Wall of Force. Grand Refuge of the Jinn. 

Her breath eases a little when they're in her cabin and sealed in. 

She abruptly has absolutely no idea what to say to Gaheris because she has ruined everything and looks up at him helplessly. 

To his credit, he is humming a song from the dances under his breath, fussing with the jug of water to produce some for her. 

He brings it over with gentle hands, sitting next to her on the cot and offering it to her. "Perhaps I should leave you to your own peace tonight. Is that something you would want?"

He has to be careful about things like this. She seems to be struggling to understand who she is under who she was moulded to be. 

"NO."

Her voice echoes louder than it should in here. There are some Spells mortals never tamed - Spells to shackle spirits of the wind that chafe under the rule of men - she was foolish, panicking, she never should have cast -

She steels herself.

"No," she manages. "Thank you."

She drinks water and as she does she feels the cool spreading through her, and masters herself, as even the Princes of the Jinn never could.

"Stay with me?"

Gaheris chuckles, put on the spot, and runs a hand through his hair.

"I can stay, if you'd like, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable, because... well, I have some very unholy thoughts about you on my mind."