#τ::|| anri

[ofspvrta]

Mmph!

μ::|| meme: Send "Stop talking" for your muse to shut mine up by kissing them. Alternatively, send "Mmph!" for my muse to be the one to interrupt yours with a kiss. | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

Kassandra likes to talk, but it's rarely the specifics of her business. She leaves the talk about the blood spilled for those who are used to it, the Cult remains a topic that is left unspoken. The hetaerae know Kassandra was the one responsible for getting the Monger and the Cult out of Korinthia. It's talk of her worries in the vaguest of terms. Of family and friends she worries about, of the new scars she comes back with.

Tonight it is nothing in particular, just general chatter, the sort one does when they start to run out of things they haven't already said before. It's just so easy to talk to Anri in the moments leading up to intimacy, it's part of why she visits. But she realizes just how long-winded she had grown when Anri slides onto her lap and presses a kiss to her lips.

"Oh..." She says, pulling back a moment. "I've been rambling. You're right, we should just..." and she pulls her in close to kiss her again, deepening it immediately.

[ofspvrta]

「 GRIND 」 : for sender to grind against the receiver

μ::|| meme: 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 … | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

The area was a little more secluded, just out of the line of sight from any passer-by, further back in the temple. There Kassandra's back pressed against a pillar, her chiton the only thing between her skin and the marble stone. Her hands rest upon the pale flesh of the priestess who is bare before her, grinding along her incredibly toned thigh as their lips press together in holy surrender.

The night had only just started and she knew the journey in the morning would be a long one. Her hands moved up her hips to the small of her back, helping her move along her thigh and feeling how slick she was already starting to feel against her. Fingers pressed into flesh, an almost possessive sort of hold as her tongue explores Anri's mouth. It didn't matter if Kassandra wasn't a believer, it felt like good luck before a journey and she greatly enjoyed Anri's company. So it was holy in another way.

In the best way.

"Mm, in what ways do we wish to worship tonight?" She asked between ever more hungry kisses. Her hands pulled Anri even further along her leg. "I am yours for the night," another kiss, this time moving toward the woman's jaw.

[ofspvrta]

❛  i’m  so  close -  ❜ from priestess!Anri, perhaps?

μ::|| meme: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝒀 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑬 . | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | anri

Twilight had fallen over the Temple of Aphrodite, many of the faithful having gone home for the evening or spending time with the hetaera in private worship. The misthios had found herself outside the temple grounds searching for anything to keep her mind from being consumed by the weight of her task. A hand gliding along her muscular arm had caught her attention, the priestess she had met several times before. Sex and religion, she had conflated the two to her once, along with fear. Kassandra would rarely admit to the latter weighing on her and had little stock in the former, but Gods, if the sex wasn't something she found herself craving in the pale of the moon.

It was there then, out of sight from wandering eyes, that Kassandra devoted herself, not to the gods, but to a more earthly body. Discarded robes and armor off in a corner as eager hands explored the pale skin of the golden-haired priestess. Hungered kisses pressed against lips, doting down the chin and along the jaw, trailing like dripping honey. Fingers mapped the topography of the priestess, trailing, squeezing, and running down her breasts and waist before coming to dip between her legs.

Oh, she could find religion in the body of another, and she could listen to the prayers she drew from their lips. A finger pushed inside, followed by another, a steady rhythm in and out as her other hand grasps behind the blonde's head. As the dark-haired misthios moved on top of her, alternating her kisses between her neck and dipping down to take her nipple into her mouth, all the while curling those fingers inside her at an increasing pace. She drank all the sounds the woman made, drunk like wine and just as intoxicating. Bringing her mouth back to dote more devotion upon her neck, she heard the priestess' breathy utterance. "I'm so close... "

A smile presses against her throat, teeth digging into the skin slightly. Her fingers worked overtime, her thumb coming to rub against her clit, feeling how slick she was, she wanted to bring the priestess close to her goddess, to know such devotion. To see a worshiper of Aphrodite squirm and come undone beneath her and know that it wasn't her goddess that did that, it was her. Crashing her lips back against Anri's their chests pressed together, slick with sweat and shining in the silvery light of the moon, she felt the woman coming undone beneath her, felt the moan that was unleashed against her mouth. She peppered kisses along her throat once more, letting the woman ride out the sensation while her fingers were still deep inside her. As Kassandra's breath was labored, she spoke with a husky tone. "Perhaps I should come to worship more often."

[ofspvrta]

religion is somewhere between fear and sex. – Anri as a priestess of Aphrodite.

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | anri

It was an interesting way to look at it, she supposed. And such a statement could truly only come from a priestess of Aphrodite. The Goddess of Beauty and Sexual Love. She wasn't fond of most gods, but there was a certain appeal to Aphrodite that she couldn't deny. Maybe it was her affinity for more intimate company and her appreciation for beauty. Or maybe because she really had no issue with the Goddess as opposed to some of the other deities. A thoughtful hum escaped the misthios' lips as she regarded the statue that still stood as gorgeous and empty as it had before.

Fear was a feeling she tried to avoid, there were plenty of things she should be afraid of but just wasn't. Living with her father's voice playing in her head since that night on the mountain, chiding her with lessons taught and making her feel like a little girl again was the closest she'd been to fear in some time. And even now the voice started to fade when she confronted him on the cliffside. Fear now was not being able to save Myrrine, not being able to save Alexios, fear was keeping Phoibe out of trouble (she was still mad at Aspasia for sending a small girl out on her own). But it was never fear for herself.

"Hm, I seem to stay closer to the sex side of things, I couldn't say I've found much religion."

[ofspvrta]

❛ the gods favour you, kassandra. ❜

μ::|| meme: 🌙   *  ―   𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃: 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀 | NOT accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

The Gods. The same Gods who favored Odysseus? Those Gods? Her expression falls, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees as she mulls over the words. Of course, coming from a priestess they were meant as high praise and she doesn't question Anri's sincerity. But it's not the kind of thing she wants to be burdened with. Phoibe would say the Eagle Bearer was a goddess, a goddess could have prevented her death. People believed her a demigod, a daughter of Zeus. All things she did not wish to have hovering over her head. Even her mother spoke of their powerful blood.

"If I am favored, it is in the accursed way. Those who gain too much attention from the Gods do not fair well, Anri." She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing. "At least Aphrodite blessed me with you, but I am weary of the favor of other Gods. They come with a burden too heavy to bear."

[ofspvrta]

❛ do i now haunt your dreams? do i warm your loins? ❜

μ::|| meme: 🌙   *  ―   𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃: 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀 | NOT accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

Anri never shied from such forward questions, nor did Kassandra shy away from answering them. Why should she? She's shared far more with Anri than just simple words. She's shared her body and her heat at the alter of Aphrodite with the woman, spoken loosely of her woes, nothing too deep, while she never suspected Anri of being a spy for the Cult, it didn't mean there weren't others nearby who were. She still has to be careful. But Anri she trusts.

"You do haunt my dreams, especially the further I get from Korinthia," she says, a light lilt to her voice as she speaks. She leans against the back of the kline, a mischievous grin upon her features. "And my loins warm the closer I get to you."

[ofspvrta]

your lover going to walk away, but you grab them and pull them back in for a kiss before they go.

μ::|| meme: KISS ME .. an assortment of kissing prompts . | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @prismaiden

She had once more brought herself to worship at the temple of Aphrodite in Korinthia. Any time she had felt the weariness of her journey, her feet knew the path, her body knew what it longed for, a touch of a different kind, healing only a priestess of the Goddess could offer. And it was always the priestess with the golden hair she had sought. After all, she had promised to come to worship with her when she felt that call.

It had been another evening where the stars watched from outside the temple entrance, and when their worship had come to an end and Kassandra had armored up once more, she felt a hand at her wrist guiding her back. There was nary any time to protest when she felt Anri press her lips against her's once more. Dangerous as it is, the priestess knows damn well that once Kassandra gets going it's a momentum that's hard to stop.

The misthios shifts to turn to face her fully, taking her back into her arms and kissing her deeply. The feeling of honeyed lips and a wine-soaked tongue against her own. For a moment the Spartan breaks free from the kiss, lips a whisper away from Anri's. "Careful now, or I'll start to think Aphrodite requires more tribute."

[ofspvrta]

i keep it for luck. – from Maria, as a Daughter of Artemis.

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | maria

The day's hunt brought the night's feast. The Daughters around the fire spoke of their greatest hunts, sharing in the spoils of great victories and the respect of the beasts that they had slain. The scent of roasting meat wafted through the village, and bellies grew full with the bounty of food. The stag was the star of the feast, but ibex and heron filled out the rest of the meal. A selection of grapes and olives and other forged fruits accompanied everything.

As Kassandra recalled her and Maria's hunt earlier that day, the huntress pulled out a small item wrapped in a leather pouch and handed it to the new leader. Glancing down, Kassandra looked at the small item in her hand, uncertain if she was meant to unwrap the item she had been handed. The care taken to protect it was obvious. She glanced up at her new companion, a curious expression on her features.

"It certainly came in handy today. What is it?"

[ofspvrta]

the women, they're always the clever ones. – from Maria, as a Daughter of Artemis.

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | maria

The position of the leader of the Daughters of Artemis did not come without a heavy heart. There was no joy in killing Daphne, a woman Kassandra had come to respect and maybe even love in her own way, but it was the way of their tribe. One of the Daughters had sought Kassandra out, asking to hunt alongside her, to see just how legendary their new leader truly was. There was an abundance of curiosity regarding Kassandra. She slew all the legendary beasts and whispers of what her skills must be like echoed through the village.

Maria knelt beside Kassandra as they eyed a particularly large red deer. Head and horns taller than the others around it. It wasn't quite as impressive as the Hind Of Keryneia, but it certainly was quite the sight all the same. As golden eyes focused on the beast's movements, her companion spoke. The does seemed to be corralling the fawns while the stag looked to demand attention.

"Huh. You're not wrong." She said, nocking an arrow and drawing the bowstring taut.

[ofspvrta]

with faith, all things are possible. – with Anri as a priestess of Aphrodite, perhaps?

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | anri

She had come seeking information on her mother's whereabouts, and even though Anthousa had promised to tell her what she knew, Kassandra knew she was going to have to put in quite a bit of effort to get what she wanted. Everything was transactional, nothing was freely given in this world, not even for a daughter looking for her mother. The statue of Aphrodite stood tall above the misthios and the worshippers strewn about, marble face staring down, immaculate in its beauty and yet emotionless. An effigy and little more.

A voice behind her had interrupted her quiet thoughts, one of the priestesses that tended to the temple. One of the few that hadn't been scared off by the Monger's men, no doubt. Kassandra only turned slightly to glance at the fair-haired woman. Even the priestesses were beautiful, though she supposed a goddess such as Aphrodite would expect nothing less.

"Depends on what that faith is in. I put faith in myself and my blade, it gets the job done."

[ofspvrta]

The taste of her lips and the scent of her breath were so sweet it was enough to make her feel like Dionysus himself, drunk on every part of her. If they were to press any closer to each other, they would meld into one being. Fingers continued to press into the softness of her moon-pale skin, feeling how soft she was compared to all the roughest parts of the misthios.

Kassandra could devote herself to the act of love, she was practiced in it, but for Anri, it was her very faith. And she practiced her faith very, very well. It was why she always came to her and no other priestess. No other could relieve her of the burdens she carried on her shoulder and no other tasted quite like she did. On a level she couldn't quite explain, Anri seemed to get her.

Kassandra's lips parted at the increasing wetness of Anri's cunt leaving trails along her toned thighs. Strong hands continued to guide her along her leg, wanting her to get off as much as she could, just to watch her face go slack in pleasure.

The kisses dipped deeper still, pressing along Anri's collar as those delicate fingers traced along the strong planes of her shoulders. Hers was a body made for fighting and killing, but Anri made her feel like she was just as much made for loving.

Such utterances against her ear had her shivering in pleasure at the very idea of it. "Every bit of me?" She purrs back, nipping lightly at the skin.

A part of her imagined Aphrodite watching them, envious of the love they made. Oh, but that was a dangerous thought, wasn't it? Making a goddess jealous. That was a fine way to become cursed, but Kassandra feared no god. She reveled in the spirit of humanity, and what the skilled hands and mouth of the priestess could do. She was never left wanting and yearning when they were done. She could feel the desire building in her core, wanting nothing more than to be touched by those practiced fingers.

"It would please me, greatly. I love it when you whisper prayers against my skin."

⚘ @ofspvrta // cont.

They hovered on the cusp of discovery, of being discovered.

The priestess sighed against the misthios, her breath pomegranate-dark and laden with something molten, nameless.  In the seclusion of the temple’s inner sanctum, beneath the soft glow of oil lamps and the perfumed hush of burning myrrh, Anri pressed herself closer to Kassandra, as if she might pass into her, become one with her heat, her solidity, her sheer force of being.

There was something divine in her – the warrior’s body, sculpted by toil and battle, an altar all its own.  Bronze skin shone against Anri’s buttermilk-pale, the priestess unburdened of sacred robes.  Calloused hands traced her spine, cradled her hips, urging, leaving their impressions upon her.  Was this not a kind of ritual?  Was this not a communion, a hymn sung in the language of flesh and breath?

Hips rolled and rolled and rolled, like the gentle lapping of the Aegean Sea, her cunt slick and wet, made pliant by the ache of desire that gathered in her belly.  

Anri was no timid offering upon the marble dais.  No trembling maiden surrendered at the temple gates.  No, she was the priestess – the intermediary, the one who invoked divinity and called forth rapture.  And so she let her fingers dance their dedication along Kassandra’s broad shoulders, tracing where sinew met skin, where power slumbered beneath sun-loved skin. 

“First I will anoint you in oil,” she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of Kassandra’s ear, her voice a whisper of silk and violets.  “Make praise with my hands.”

She would worship her as she might a goddess made flesh – with reverent touch, with slow, knowing strokes, with all the rose-crowned mysteries Aphrodite had whispered to her since girlhood.  The night stretched before them, languorous and dark, rich with rites yet to be performed, with whispered prayers that might never reach the ears of the gods.  Anri felt her blood grow hot and sweet, burning like fragrant oil at the altar’s flame.

“And then with my mouth, if it please you.”

[ofspvrta]

These were always the times she hated the most. When she would have to set out again and leave Anri behind to continue her duties as a priestess. But oh, how she loved the way she looked in the amber light of sunset. It set her pale hair ablaze like strands of silken spun gold set upon a pale features. The flowers weren't quite as breathtaking as the priestess, but they would have to do.

A soft sigh passed her salt-chapped lips as Anri's fingers brushed against her own, taking the flowers from the misthios. Goodbyes were never easy. She could promise to the moon and back that she would return, but would she really? It was all up to fate, there was never a guarantee of returning to anything.

The gesture was simple, but it brought such a soft smile to the Eagle Bearer's face. Bittersweet always seemed to be a good word for these moments. Something soft amongst all the death and bloodshed, and yet it was still goodbye. The sound of her crew finishing preparations to disembark grew louder among their quiet on the dock. If Kassandra lingered on it, perhaps she would have made the connection between her ship and their union.

"Perhaps next time, I will bring you the seeds as well, so you can grow your own and count their progress between my visits. A constant reminder of me." She could be quite poetic when she wanted. "I will count it among my own strength in battle." She wasn't very religious, but sometimes faith from others was all she needed.

Kassandra often looked forward when disembarking from shore, except when Anri saw her off. Something about not being willing to let go just yet. There was peace in her arms, whether gentle or intense, it was still peaceful. A place where she was not subject to the stings of battle, only the soft caresses of a woman removed from war. They contrasted well against each other.

A light chuckled loosed from her lips, a flirtatious smile stretching across her features, "I may have to rest the whole day prior, if that is the case. You'll have me battle weary without ever lifting my sword. But I look forward to it."

Barnabas was calling out to the sailors to finish the preparations, it was nearly time. Oh to have even a few more hours, but alas, she had Cultists to kill.

"I hope to be back sooner than last time."

Iris Yellow– Passion

The sun hung low over the Aegean, its light turning brine into liquid gold. Kassandra stood bathed in the glow, her haloed form like a goddess kissed by starfire. Clutched in her hand, an offering of yellow irises, their petals soft and ruffled, in hues from buttercream to honey. At the heart of each bloom, deeper shades of amber and ochre spiralled outward in delicate lacework.

Anri took the gift with a quiet joy, her fingers deliberately stroking against Kassandra’s beneath the veil of green spurs. Between them, the air was sticky with nectar, heavy with unspoken words. Such was the atmosphere before any departure.

Murmuring her gratitude, Anri reached out to tuck a loose strand of Kassandra’s hair behind the shell of her ear. Already, her dark tresses had begun to stiffen with salt. Behind the misthios, the loaded and readied Adrestia loomed, riding the small, shining waves of the harbour. It was a good omen, perhaps, that the ship bore the name of Adrestia, the daughter of Aphrodite and Ares. Here, too, was a union between love and war.

“I will look at these often and think of you,” Anri said, her smile soft but touched with a trace of melancholy, her thumb tracing a slender stem. “And I will pray for you. For your every success, for your safe return.”

Soon the trireme would carve its way through the sun-streaked waters, and Anri would stand on the shore, watching until the ship drifted from view. For Kassandra’s part, should she choose to look back – and Anri sorely hoped she would – she would see her lover standing at the shore, the string-tied bouquet held close to her chest. The distance would grow, but the bond between them would remain, a thread stretching across the waves, golden and unbroken.

“When you do return,” Anri added, her voice slipping into a teasing lilt, “I will make love to you for five days and five nights.”

Over the sea of cheerful yellow faces, she gazed fondly at Kassandra. The cornflower blue of her eyes brightened, her smile shifting into one a little less forlorn.

“So hurry back, won’t you?”

[ofspvrta]

The days in Korinthia were long, avoiding the mongers men, helping Anthousa keep her women safe from the Mongers dirty mitts. It was when dusk settled over the city that she ascends the mountain once more, a pilgrimage to pay holy tribute. But Kassandra has never been particularly pious, her tribute is less to Aphrodite and more to the woman who serves as her priestess. She arrives freshly bathed, the dirt and blood of the days activities washed clean from her body. She wouldn't want to sully any of Anri's white robes with the grit of her work.

Even then she carries the scent of leather, salt, and iron on her, as any warrior worth their claim would smell. Sandals clap against the stairwell, loud enough to announce her presence before her silhouette darkens the moonlit temple. The braziers lining between the pillars cast her in golden light and dark shadows as she walked in, pausing only at the top to await the priestess she's come to know so well in her time in the city. It is the first time she's been able to visit in the last few days, keeping away both for the sake of Anri's safety, and to make sure a certain little girl didn't follow her on yet another outing. These were private matters.

Anri's golden hair practically glows in the firelight as she approaches, a near ethereal being in the dark of night. Even with her pale blonde hair, she seemed made of silver against Kassandra's golds. The woman offered her hand which Kassandra gladly accepted, placing a gentle kiss to her palm. Her thumb traces the heart line of her palm, golden eyes flickering with want in the heat of the braziers. She'd been thinking about her for days, the priestess constantly somewhere on her mind. Every encounter they'd shared was nothing short of breathtaking. Tangled in one another under the watchful gaze of the pale moon.

"You knew I couldn't stay away for long. Not from you." She leaned up taking the woman's hand and bringing it too her lips once more as she kissed each individual finger. "Come now," she murmured in a hushed tone, "we've kept Aphrodite waiting long enough, haven't we?" Even now she's thinking of the priestess and her skilled hands traveling the planes of her muscles.

👀

Send me a "👀" and my muse will give 3 things they find physically attractive about your muse.

It was easy to imagine that a divine thread pulled her onto the stylobate. That something delicate as milkweed floss or spider silk had encircled her wrist, or stitched itself into her very heart roots. Outside, the twilight sky was draped in shades of mauve and mulberry, deepening until the first stipples of early stars appeared. Framed by the towering columns of pillars, Anri watched and waited. Birch-limbed, the butter-blonde of her hair crowned with starburst blossoms of myrtle. Braziers stained her with the scent of woodsmoke, outlining her silhouette with ember light – and revealing the battle-ready figure climbing the path.

Anri knew their identity even before she noticed the dusk-dressed edges of eagle wings circling above. With the day’s last dying breath, Kassandra made her way towards the temple, calves kissed by the bobbing, blood-red faces of Aphrodite’s beloved red anemones. It had been days since their last encounter – days full of love and light, but no less relentless for all the joy they brought.

There was much to admire in the misthios. That darling, daring mouth. Prone to smirks, and capable of delivering kisses carrying more heat than midday sandstone. Those arms – scar-licked and strong – that so often formed a welcome cage of bone and sinew. Arms that lifted and pushed and wrapped and held, arms that felt like a second home. That heavy plait of umber hair, pulled forward over a shoulder. Unbraided, it seemed it was made for the sole purpose of slipping soft and kinked through the spaces between the priestess’ fingers.

Anri held out her hand now, as Kassandra mounted the marble steps, smiling demurely as it was accepted, turned over, a kiss planted in the well of her powder-soft palm. From here she could smell the scent of the sea, carried on the misthios’ sun-soaked skin.

“The night is made all the more beautiful by your presence, dear Kassandra.”