Poisedalacrity:

poisedalacrity‌:

                      “…oi, y’dropped something.”

        Words spoken after tapping on another’s shoulder, holding up a knife by the blade. “Think your holster might be gettin’ loose, or the sheath isn’t the right size.”

     On her worst days, the wrath practically drips knives, from every sheathe, and every hidden holster. Usually so neat and secure and meticulous, and yet, with hours of precious sleep missed, or a slew of poor reports to wake up to in the morning, it isn’t... Uncommon. 

     Rare enough not to pose a danger, but an embarrassment? Surely. “Oh-” There is a pause as she takes it back, looking to the guardian. “Er- Thank you, lightbearer. It has been... It has been a long few weeks.”

V, F, A ;)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

[ petra is noisy, noisy, noisy. growls, gasps and snarls are most common, though at times when she is caught completely off guard or has lowered her walls entirely, whimpers and begging aren’t uncommon. yelps and whining also have their place, though her favorites are her partner’s name and titles. ]

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

[ petra likes having mara in her lap. at first the position was one of submission, an easy place to settle in with minimum control and responsibility so mara could enjoy herself and petra could as well, but over the course of their relationship the wrath’s perspective on it has certainly changed. she is now well aware of the control such a position gives her (and invites her to take) and she loves it. ]

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

[ petra is affectionate and loving, but above all, she is touchy. she wants her arms around her partner, their body tucked against her own, and their face hidden against her neck beneath mounds of blankets- or she is not really content. as much skin on skin as is possible, for as long as possible, or until she falls asleep. she is very lucky that mara is willing and pleased to provide. ]

[ like this if i owe you, i’m a bum,,, oops ]

DLTY

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

[ petra tries to keep her deviance under wraps for the most part, and has never given into curiosity when it comes to the eliksni. that said, some wires definitely got crossed regarding her near death experience on amethyst - there is a part of her that wants to be at the mercy of a big, four armed alien lady in a very different way, or is at the very least incredibly curious about it. ]

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

[ petra likes her bed, but more than that, she liked being out in the wilds of the dreaming city. nature is where she is most comfortable, and more than that, where she feels she has the most privacy and freedom. ]

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

[ petra doesn’t own many toys, but mara does, and petra loves to make use of them. she prefers giving to receiving when it comes to toys, though she owns one (1) vibrator and uses it every now and then when she’s got the time and patience to take care of herself. ]

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

[ her drive is generally average for someone her biological age, though her posting and her job leaves very little room for personal time. it can result in a backlog of frustration of sorts, especially with the excitement she tends to derive from sparring and firefights, which mara tends to bear the brunt of when they are together. ]

spadeshunter‌:

          “    you are one misguided soul and i am going to show you the wonders of ramen,  which by the way !    is not soup with noodles.    but,  debates can be left ‘til after we deal with this little issue,  then the first round’s on me.    ”    he takes the ace of spades out of his holster,  checking the cylinder for ammo,  balancing it delicately in his hand.    he dances with the idea of a hero’s entrance;    gun blazing,  calling upon the traveler’s light to set their mutual opponents ablaze,  watching them turn to ash on contact…    he considers it.    he may go through with it.

          after given pause,  the exo grins at the awoken.    “    ready on three.    ”    he doesn’t count,  however,  instead running into the fray with a loud ‘    three !    ’.    never one for patience or timing,  sundance tells him as she always does;    and it is then that he begins his dance.

          it’s playful and precise,  steady but on-the-spot.    there’s a careful placement of a grenade at the feet of a small group of dregs,  a knife thrown directly into a vandal’s skull,  exploding on impact.    sundance warns him (    ever quietly as she does;    not ruining his dance but instead participating in it with a quick ‘    watch out !    ’ or ‘    on your left !    ’    ).    he ducks under a direct attack from a marauder and takes a shot as it tumbles away.    their enemies fall.    he does not.    he has thrown himself into the fray,  but he looks as though he is home.

          “    hey,  petra !    you’re missing out on the best part !    ”    he jokes,  of course.

     She should know better than to expect a full countdown from the gunslinger by now. There are no tales left to tell of the wild west, but if there were... Petra cannot dance the way Cayde-6 does, not when she has spent so long holding so many lives in her hands. Watching the backs of Corsairs, of Crows, of people who have only one life– People who place their trust in her, that she will make sure they do not lose it. 

     So Petra is tactical. Methodical, but swift. For her, this plays as less of a game and more of a series of executions. A shot to the knee, to cripple– A shot to the head to silence the cries. A dreg lifts its pistol, only for the Vestian Dynasty to burn a hole through its wrist, and then its skull– As a captain still reeling from the explosion of the grenade gets too close for for comfort, she lunges to finish that fight with one of many hidden blades, the combat skin that the Wrath wears under her armor letting her know that her forearm is now wet and cold with spilled ether as the captain falls to the floor.

     Cayde is dancing. Petra follows behind him with a mop. But still she grins broadly back at him, the expression hidden behind her helmet as she wrenches her knife out of the captain– She will not die to a bullet in the brain like so many others today– And her laugh rings in his comm, her voice bubbling with amusement. “You are making a mess, Cayde.”