The lack of Raven's consistency could only do his credibility so many favors, powers of persuasion and penchant for pulling vaguely convincing excuse out of the proverbial sleeves notwithstanding. Pity and praise him with the same breathe should he reduce himself for the exert required of drudgery, as if fresh bread rolls were stony chunks of the resort's foundation, but don't call him out were he to begin wrestling down an agile elf shortly thereafter with every ounce of vigor coursing through his enlivened veins. The slippery beast would only claim it the careful allocation of precious reserves, that stars shined brighter for it in the long run, lest they burn themselves out without a spectator to those brilliant supernovas fueled ever onward by silver-set gems. Zilyana, long since initiated, knew his games; there was little point in trying to convince her of the merit behind sophisticated systems favoring skive when it served him, and surge when it pleased him.

Who among them could complain about matter's fact though? Self-congratulatory strokes of a whinging martyr or other episodes indicative of the lazy lecher's signature were thoughts much too distant to the incorrigible rituals commencing on the crash of complementing figures and every crackle of excite conducted between. First contact, and never far from the last initiating pass, aye -- but the dance was *far* from other if that blazing spirit biding time amidst the lewd lout's handsy liberties had any say in it still. Slim chances, as one growing fat off his meager victory should presume; another capture, another opportunity to gorge. Thought himself proudest, he did, relishing in successes premature with the broad beam devoid of his typical pretenses, for there was no additional angle to enjoying sensations giving into the command of his rugged hands, or danced along his the slopes of his mantle like a circlet bestowed upon a crude conqueror fresh off the killing fields. --Or the pillage, more appropriately, with spoils of surplus poised on the desk's top as both a trophy and necessary component to perpetuate a shameless opulence. Reasons upon reasons to feel himself so mighty, all the more sweeter in that briefest hangup of waggish tease to waken the boor out of a risqué rambler. Raven the Great, indeed!

Nothing, mark it, nothing broke sweeter against the drums in his ears like the fanfare of the feathered she-elf's startled grunt soaked in the innate pitches of allure. Well-won had been the chuffed grin pulling proud in the uneven rough of untended overgrowth, bracing her harried boost with the capable backing of strapping arms to take the pressure off those nimble feet she employed to better meet him with rosette flushes on the face. A presentation of gold and roses for the man about his valiant return to sacred nests and unchallenged station, perhaps? T'was hubris of his own to think it so hot of the give of toughened mitt's general shape right on Zilyana's guilty rump, but better he spur her up the wall of his chest with one punishing sting than have her taken over the knee for a more thorough audit of her titillating grievances. Like the sweetest grapes of spring, it was told; another, and another oft' followed the first. Tempering himself on the pyres of provocation, the veritable tower led into forward favoring list by the unintentional pull set upon him around the now bowing neck. Listing in loom to turn down the plate of his brow and delight in those widened discs behind sharpening spheres of his own oceanic hue, Raven in all his vainglory found it within his burning heart to hear her say. Confidence, needless to say, was quick to debase itself toward complacency, and in this his possessive paws might have gathered a coat of figurative grease in spite of their obvious unwillingness to part with their prized properties in pair.

"Hhr-hrmmh..."

A chuckle's lowly rumble told nothing but agreement; oh, he was *certainly* keeping her. But watch how that supposedly strong showing of certitude fed into falter at the mere mention of their established course of action. Brows brought to lift, grin splitting and superseded by a dismaying hang.

"Hua--h?"

And a humbling note to boot, though before he could conjure up that corroding wit and flex his place of supremacy, Zilyana had found that advantage and put her grace into better use... slipping out of his grasp at last! Thereafter, and so soon yet too late, those sinewy snakes once providing a throne of feelers for the she-elf's backside held out after her while a pair of confused steps gave their vain, short chase. Sluggish on the surprise, see.

"H--Who said 'wash?' *I* said 'wash?'"

A horrible gap spacing them, and his timbre was let to soar toward their quickened peaks red-flagging an already obvious contradiction. Inconsistency; ever dear Raven's downfall. As those pleading gazes now reclaiming their focus of smolder before calculated saunters for their destination of their woefully aforementioned wash, he was reminded then and there that Zilyana brandished these beckons like thrown gauntlets, or as was what had made it abundantly clear, a discarded cuirass. Stole away the honors right out from distracted fingertips, had she? Ohh, this woman... and paid all the awe owed of her keenest admirer as he stood transfixed in his partial undress sans any decent concealment. Honest as the nights were long, this one, fit to boil right out of his brilliant bronze accented in carmine cast and violet undertones roused to linger just beneath the epidermal layer. Now was not the time to blank on the dance's steps, but lo' how his preoccupation with admiration had stalled him before the flaunt of a nubile back in full begging him wordlessly hither. By all the stars that presided over those strange waters and the islet in it, he'll write his vows amid the chase and tell them as they crashed into an empty tub awaiting.

rolls a dice and gets 10 out of 20.

Snapped back into coherence by initiative's bite, lashes flickering their adjoining sleeves as flits brought those gawking hues all over the place. The lady in wait, surrounds perilous with clutter, and the last vestiges of his wayfarer's regalia yet suspended into serviceable security by their snug cling at the waist. About time those reveling mitts of his stole themselves back into better use, tucking first each thumb along the hem of his trousers to guide them down his legs, lurching forward at once as better judgement presently scrambled thought it a genius idea to make up their distance apart whilst doing so.

"Dr--h'uh... --ai'yhh!"

Stripped down to his knees as imbalance prevailed over the once self-assured captor, shirking charge partway that an arm could flail about aimlessly to redirect his stumble and see that he had not lost footing right before his goading temptress. All good! --And coming out of those duplicitous trousers threaded in beige all the quicker for, shaking them off from trailing at his calves in the same stilted stops needed to kick away mud-caked boots.

"Nh'h... Draw that bath, mama."

While she was still free of his needful grasps. On the prowl in once more, none could say whether or not they'll ever make it in.