☠ 050

[molotov]

Who: Molotov and you
What: infected and sick... with lust
When: 11/22, evening
Where: all over, wherever
Rating: probably... up to R

When the flu symptoms cleared up, Molotov shrugged it off. She figured it was just the castle fucking around with the residents, as she never got sick, and wouldn't it have lasted longer if she was actually getting ill? So she decided to go about her business without really thinking about it or digging into the journal -- if the castle was giving everyone temporary colds, then the journal would just be filled with a lot of useless bitching.

Which only made it a bonus that she recovered so quickly. It gave her plenty of time to roam the castle and accomplish the things that she usually didn't get to bother with, due to the overwhelming presence of the other residents.

She barely noticed any change at all, not until something in the back of her mind made her think that maybe she should go find her husband. But he'd still been sick when she left, so she just stayed out. Stayed out and... well.

Anything can happen in the castle.

Comments

[samson]

Brock had been sick in bed, sure. But once he woke up and saw that Molotov wasn't around, he was really irritated.

Of course he was glad that his fever had broken and he felt perfectly fine again. But he was annoyed that she was out doing god knows what -- she could still be sick, after all. And then she would just be sniffling everywhere and he'd probably have to take care of her or whatever, and that would be even more irritating.

He finally tracked her down in the hall, and stormed over to her. "Hey."

[molotov]

When Brock stomped over, Molotov beamed, seemingly not even taking into account how annoyed he was. "Hello," she purred, slinking over to close the distance between them and wrap her arms around his neck. "Feeling better, sokol?"

[samson]

Brock just stood there, continuing to be annoyed. How dare she act like she didn't just waltz around when she should have been in bed! What the fuck, lady.

"Fine," he said a little tersely, glaring at her. "What the hell are you doing?"

[molotov]

Molotov again ignored his bad mood, and just worked her hand down his chest, walking her fingers along his midline and abs. "Nothing," she cooed, eyelashes fluttering a little as she looked up at him. "I am glad you are feeling better."

[samson]

Something about the way she was touching on him was making him furious. Which, somewhere in the back of his head, he thought was odd. But he quickly dismissed that thought, since it got swallowed up by this fury anyway.

"You should have stayed in bed," he growled lowly at her, grabbing her wrist.

[molotov]

His anger really did nothing except fuel her desire for him, and she let out a happy little twitter as he growled and grabbed her.

"But I feel better," she told him, pressing her hips to him and threading her other hand through his hair.

[samson]

Molotov's continued flirtiness was making him progressively angrier for whatever reason, but just because he was mad didn't mean he wasn't still into his wife. Inhaling deeply, he narrowed his eyes at her and pushed her back toward the wall, letting go of her wrist to grab for her throat instead.

"I can't stand you," he hissed, hating her a whole lot more than usual, but still wanting to be around her.

[i_got_this]

South's been back in armor since the whole Cat incident, but in addition she's been less inclined to stay inside and alone. She tends to keep to the lobby or the kitchen, some more of the high-traffic areas.

[molotov]

Molotov's throat is still a touch scratchy. That's surely a good reason to be eating a popsicle in November. In the most obscene possible way.

[i_got_this]

Yeah, South just stops and stares at that. It's repulsive, but in a small way a bit impressive.

"You must really like popsicles, huh?"

[molotov]

"They just taste so good," she answered, just way way way too into it.

[i_got_this]

"Yeah. I think I can see that ..." Wow, this is getting really ... awkward. "You two should think about getting a room."

[molotov]

"Why would we?" she asks, looking genuinely curious as she slowly licks up the popsicle.

[heloise]

It feels like forever since Lucrezia had seen her combat trainer, though Molotov might not feel the same. She tries to curb her enthusiasm as she quickens her steps toward her, dropping away that cloth she has been using to cover her nose.

"Molotov!" She calls out from a few steps away, having learned not to surprise mercenaries at close distances.

[molotov]

It's been a while for sure, but Molotov has been preoccupied enough to only barely have noticed. When she hears her name, she turns to glance over her shoulder and smile.

"Lusha."

[heloise]

Lucrezia quickens her steps to close the distance between them, reaching both hands to take Molotov's in hers. Most everyone has been sick or acting so strangely, and not in a good sort of strange either, that it is a relief to see someone being pleasant. Certainly a change from the last time she ran into her trainer.

"I see that you are well, for which I am glad."

[molotov]

"Da, isn't it good?" Molotov says, raising their joined hands to kiss the backs of Lucrezia's. "Have you been well too?"

[heloise]

Lucrezia giggles, somewhat bashful but that may only be an act. She squeezes Molotov's hand out of fondness.

"Quite so. I met Brock on my return, but it feels like forever since I saw you," she casts a gaze around to spot the husband. "Were you headed somewhere?"

[molotov]

"Nowhere important," she answers, pressing Lucrezia's hand to her cheek. "Are you busy? Maybe you would like a drink with me."

[gottaknockhard]

Most people would stay away from the castle when people start talking about a mysterious illness going around. But Spike always had his reasons for coming back at the wrong time.

He was just making a beeline for the elevator when he spotted Molotov. At first he didn't stop, but he paused as he passed by to glance around, looking for someone who would probably want to keep an eye on her. -- When he didn't see him, he changed his mind and decided to stick to his own business.

[molotov]

When Spike paused, Molotov was able to take her shot and head for him, sauntering far too seductively for a man she didn't even like. But now, she could hardly remember disliking him at all -- it was as if that all faded away in the face of the fact that Spike was a man and alive and there.

"What are you doing, Spike?" she asked, her voice silky.

[gottaknockhard]

He wasn't sure if her outfit was making that walk seem more exaggerated than he remembered, or if she was just mocking him. Either way, he was surprised that she would keep him there any longer than she was forced to. That could be his first clue.

"Staying out of trouble, like always."

[molotov]

"But isn't it so much more fun to be in trouble?" she asked, sidling up to him and taking hold of his tie. "I think it is," she added, wrapping the end of his tie around her hand and looking up at him.

[gottaknockhard]

That question didn't quite register in his brain with everything else she was doing to heighten his sense of dread. She wouldn't take a joke that far on her own. Which meant she was about to slap him as soon as she snapped out of it.

He stayed stiffly in place as he met her gaze.

"Is it that time of the year already?"

[molotov]

"I do not have that here, and besides, I think you could do with a biology lesson," she informed him, completely misunderstanding, and pressed herself to him, giving his tie a light yank so that he'd bend down closer to her. "We could do it in the library... or the elevator... or the floor..."