The irritation rose in Zelda, blossoming like a venus fly trap, ready to snap its vicious jaws shut at any moment. And, as Elijah keeps talking – all the best intentions at heard, obviously – that moment grows ever closer. Those last words are like lyrics to her ears and they should have calmed her down because they spoke directly to her heart; to the carefree girl who just wanted to dance and have fun. She’d lived in the moment for so long, forgetting the past and not daring to think about the future. But it was bound to catch up with her, sooner or later. Sooner or later, it always does.
It was a similar episode that had her finally moving out of home and into her own apartment. A similar episode that had got her off her *** and into a job, because she knew she needed money. Being a responsible adult meant thinking about the future every now and again. Certain trestles had to be placed so that there was some imitation of stability in one’s life. Trestles that had to reach into the future for any kind of stability to last. And here she was again, the tentacles of adult reason intruding upon her happy-go-lucky nature. Elijah’s lips didn’t last long on Zelda’s knuckles before she was pulling her hand away, before she was pulling away from his warmth and shooting up out of the seat.
”It’s not that they didn’t stick by me, Elijah. I was the one who didn’t stick by them!” she said, dimples flaring as she spun to face him, even though she wasn’t smiling. Those dimples were always there, clear as day even when she was furious, those lips pressed tight together in anger rather than in mirth.
”Don’t you see? You don’t understand, do you?!” she asked, her voice slowly rising in pitch. She obviously did not care if she was causing a scene. If passer-by glanced over curiously. She didn’t even care what it was they overheard. And she should care – it was the one reason she had dumped her old life. Because it was a necessity. Because it would not do, to have them figure out her secret. And now here she was, shouting it out in the middle of the street like a crazy person. Which only made her angrier.
”My whole life was turned upside down and I had to leave them behind. Why don’t I go see my parents as often as I could? ******* eternity, that’s why! They’ll see me not aging. Same as everyone else. And you, you aren’t even supposed to know!” she shouted, and the laughed almost hysterically. She was so all over the place. She didn’t know what she was trying to say. Except that it was living in the moment that had got her to this point – believing and doing one thing one moment and swinging around to do something completely different the next.
”You know there are people who’d kill you for what you know, Elijah. Like, slice and dice and chop your head off. I think maybe it’s best if you don’t see me anymore,” she said. No, it wasn’t what she wanted, and she hardly believed the words even as they passed her lips. But how could she treat him any different than she did anyone else? She’d hold everyone else apart to keep them safe, but it all applied to Elijah too, didn’t it? He’d grow old and she’d stay the same. It wasn’t fair on him. And she put him in danger, too. She hiccupped, and stopped shouting. She crossed her arms over her chest and hung her head in shame, the red locks falling like a shield around her face.
Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
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Zelda (DELETED 4403)
- Posts: 132
- Joined: 13 Jun 2013, 00:04
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
CN Handle :: Fitzy
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
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Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)
- Posts: 30
- Joined: 10 May 2014, 12:00
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
He had opened his mouth. He had said what was on his mind in regards to her problem. Any rational adult would have assessed her problem, submitted a solution, and only would watch and see if it was tested. Well, Zelda certainly tested his words. She let them in one ear and right out the other without much consideration for the substance in between. Either that, or she didn't care to hear what he had to say. He wondered to himself if this was why most women were often upset at their significant others. Not because they were right or because they voiced their opinions or suggestions, but because the other half just did not like what they had to say.
That was a bitter pill to swallow for Elijah. This was, perhaps, why he dealt so much better with the animal nature. Care, gratitude, and understanding was easier when the bonds were supplemented by one that could take away pain, give welcomed food to, and keep a calm voice and steady hands when withering in pain. So he watched as his beautiful redhead flew up from her seat and started yelling. It was no doubt, a sheer intensity that seemed to almost possess her.
She was angry. While he sat there being her obtuse target, he bit his teeth on the insides of his mouth to keep from retorting. Elijah could be quite a sarcastic fellow, but this was not what Zelda needed. The mood was not light and playful. The mood was not one where poking fun at each other and wrestling out the difference upon the living room floor until one of them cried 'uncle!' There, he sat while she gestured wildly and started to gather attention. One middle-aged couple, the blonde female in particular, just shook her head and smirked as if Elijah Cole himself had unleashed a beast.
By this time, Colonel had let his ears drop and he moved practically as far underneath the bench as he could away from the shouting. He had tucked his tail between his legs and he made himself barely known except for the leash that Elijah had slackened in the large dog's haste to hide. Granted, his long, white and black spotted legs were hanging out around Elijah's expensive designer lace up shoes. Upon closer inspection, most of the hair on his trousers were from Colonel, but most of the other animals failed to be too skeptical of Elijah Cole's skills. So, while Colonel hid underneath the bench, those bright blue eyes were settled upon the upset woman.
He did know she was different. He did know that she was a different kind of creature from him altogether. That did not stop the initial attraction. That did not stop the need to see what her lips had tasted like. That did not stop the smart remarks and the need to have her attention all on him that night in the bar. Ever since, they had exchanged phone numbers, exchanged schedules, and exchanged little tidbits about themselves that most no one else knew. He frowned at her. He didn't recoil from the anger as an abused animal like Colonel had. No, he simply sat upon the bench and took the heat of her tongue that she smacked him with.
She was upset that he knew. She was upset that he had figured out once they were intimate together that her skin was cold and her heart did not beat. She was upset that she had let someone else close, let them discover her secret, and yet he had been a perfect stranger. He simply pushed himself forward on that bench. Where as he stood, he did not force Colonel out nor did he let go too much slack on the leash. He simply reached for that redhead's hand. He gave it a tug to where he could bring her a step closer, allowing him to put that arm around her back.
She might not like being touched by him, but he did it. She might not like the fact that he wanted to hold his angry woman close, but he tried. He even curled that leashed hand into a few longer strands and he pulled her chin up that way by pulling down upon her hair. His voice was husky and quiet, just for her. No one around them deserved to be witness to the complete exchange between them. So, as he held her in his arms, the lines between his brows were drawn together in all the seriousness he could provide her. "I love you, Zelda. I love you."
He didn't ask her if this was what she wanted. He didn't ask her if she really meant her words. Why would she say them if she didn't mean them? He knew all about the words that came out in the heat of the moment. It was often the truth, even if it hurt. She missed her family and her friends. She missed her old life and did not - no, refused to embrace the new. He didn't storm away from her, leaving her there on the sidewalk of that mall's entrance to find her own way home. He gained a little more insight about where her anger was coming from.
He gained a little more insight about the woman he held in his arms. He took in those anger ravaged lips. He took in the irritated dimples and the flash of heat left in her eyes. And then, while he felt Colonel lean himself against his leg and crowd close, Elijah kissed her. He took her lips in a soft, demanding possession. He took her mouth in a quick, heated kiss that would have shown her that he was not afraid. He did not like her truth. But he accepted it in that moment when he dipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her. He barely understood her anger, but before she could pull away, he broke the kiss.
He just stood there with her, holding her.
That was a bitter pill to swallow for Elijah. This was, perhaps, why he dealt so much better with the animal nature. Care, gratitude, and understanding was easier when the bonds were supplemented by one that could take away pain, give welcomed food to, and keep a calm voice and steady hands when withering in pain. So he watched as his beautiful redhead flew up from her seat and started yelling. It was no doubt, a sheer intensity that seemed to almost possess her.
She was angry. While he sat there being her obtuse target, he bit his teeth on the insides of his mouth to keep from retorting. Elijah could be quite a sarcastic fellow, but this was not what Zelda needed. The mood was not light and playful. The mood was not one where poking fun at each other and wrestling out the difference upon the living room floor until one of them cried 'uncle!' There, he sat while she gestured wildly and started to gather attention. One middle-aged couple, the blonde female in particular, just shook her head and smirked as if Elijah Cole himself had unleashed a beast.
By this time, Colonel had let his ears drop and he moved practically as far underneath the bench as he could away from the shouting. He had tucked his tail between his legs and he made himself barely known except for the leash that Elijah had slackened in the large dog's haste to hide. Granted, his long, white and black spotted legs were hanging out around Elijah's expensive designer lace up shoes. Upon closer inspection, most of the hair on his trousers were from Colonel, but most of the other animals failed to be too skeptical of Elijah Cole's skills. So, while Colonel hid underneath the bench, those bright blue eyes were settled upon the upset woman.
He did know she was different. He did know that she was a different kind of creature from him altogether. That did not stop the initial attraction. That did not stop the need to see what her lips had tasted like. That did not stop the smart remarks and the need to have her attention all on him that night in the bar. Ever since, they had exchanged phone numbers, exchanged schedules, and exchanged little tidbits about themselves that most no one else knew. He frowned at her. He didn't recoil from the anger as an abused animal like Colonel had. No, he simply sat upon the bench and took the heat of her tongue that she smacked him with.
She was upset that he knew. She was upset that he had figured out once they were intimate together that her skin was cold and her heart did not beat. She was upset that she had let someone else close, let them discover her secret, and yet he had been a perfect stranger. He simply pushed himself forward on that bench. Where as he stood, he did not force Colonel out nor did he let go too much slack on the leash. He simply reached for that redhead's hand. He gave it a tug to where he could bring her a step closer, allowing him to put that arm around her back.
She might not like being touched by him, but he did it. She might not like the fact that he wanted to hold his angry woman close, but he tried. He even curled that leashed hand into a few longer strands and he pulled her chin up that way by pulling down upon her hair. His voice was husky and quiet, just for her. No one around them deserved to be witness to the complete exchange between them. So, as he held her in his arms, the lines between his brows were drawn together in all the seriousness he could provide her. "I love you, Zelda. I love you."
He didn't ask her if this was what she wanted. He didn't ask her if she really meant her words. Why would she say them if she didn't mean them? He knew all about the words that came out in the heat of the moment. It was often the truth, even if it hurt. She missed her family and her friends. She missed her old life and did not - no, refused to embrace the new. He didn't storm away from her, leaving her there on the sidewalk of that mall's entrance to find her own way home. He gained a little more insight about where her anger was coming from.
He gained a little more insight about the woman he held in his arms. He took in those anger ravaged lips. He took in the irritated dimples and the flash of heat left in her eyes. And then, while he felt Colonel lean himself against his leg and crowd close, Elijah kissed her. He took her lips in a soft, demanding possession. He took her mouth in a quick, heated kiss that would have shown her that he was not afraid. He did not like her truth. But he accepted it in that moment when he dipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her. He barely understood her anger, but before she could pull away, he broke the kiss.
He just stood there with her, holding her.
Human - Keeper of Colonel - Dabbler
Role Play Based Character
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Zelda (DELETED 4403)
- Posts: 132
- Joined: 13 Jun 2013, 00:04
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
If Zelda were a weak woman, she might have quailed beneath those bright blues. The way that Elijah looked at her – not just now, but ever – was enough to set her metaphorical heart hammering in her chest. But she would not fall, would never fall weak-kneed and submissive, not unless she chose to. Never by force. She felt now as if her blood should be racing, but instead the only thing she felt was a spinning her head, violent and unsure. But still, in all her uncertainty, she was strong.
The things that she was strong, that she was certain about: she didn’t hate what she had become, but she had not yet allowed herself to grieve for what she had lost. She had regrets. She felt lonely, and just a tiny bit lost.
The things that she was uncertain about: Who the **** is Elijah Cole and why did she care what he thought? Why did she care at all? Who was this man who had come so spontaneously into her life? Was he there for a reason? And what the **** was she going to do with him, and his charitable ways and that damned ******* soothing voice of his?
He stood – Zelda could see it, out of the corner of her eye. He stood, and she straightened her shoulders; and even as he was pulling her closer, into his strong arms, he was tiling her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes, to see the genuine sincerity written all over his face. Her own eyes were ablaze, glinting in the dim light, bright, like phosphorescent orbs of wilderness. There was a wild creature inside of her, just waiting to get out. Claws were ready to be drawn. She was so damned uncertain about this man and she didn’t want him seducing her, not now, now when she needed to figure things out rather than push them aside due to his heady distractions.
The redhead was ready to push, to swing out of his grip but his voice had her freezing, glued in place. She should laugh at him. She’d done it before, hadn’t she? To men who’d admitted to loving her, she’d laughed in their faces. The relationships never lasted too long after that. And she, no, she could not remember ever telling any man that she loved him. As far as she was concerned, she had never felt love before.
And yet as she stood there, letting those words sink in, she didn’t laugh. That still appendage in her chest seemed to quiver, just slightly; a wave of cold and then a wave of heat seemed to pass over her body as shock registered. Those wild eyes of hers blinked, and then narrowed, furrowed. She could not object, could not sigh, could not say anything. Only a squeak escaped as Elijah’s warm lips slid over hers, tongue sliding into her mouth.
And all she could think: how dare he?!
Every fibre in her body told her to return the kiss, to forget everything and just give in to instinct and desire. Her mind, however, her overtaxed soul, had other plan in mind. In fact, those sharp teeth—the canines of which never receded but were always sharpened to dangerous points—were about ready to sink into Elijah’s probing tongue. Luckily, the man pulled away before he could suffer any of Zelda’s sudden and incontrollable irritation.
She pushed, hard. She slid her arm between her body and his grasp in an attempt to remove his hand from around her waist. With half her strength (because if she used all of it, she might toss him a little too far) she shoved.
”No you don’t! You don’t!” she shouted. Absolute and utter denial. She could not accept that he loved her, because with love came complication. ”And even if you did, what’s your plan? Where do you think your love is going to take you?” she asked urgently, pushing her hands through her hair, wanting only to collapse against his chest to sob inconsolably but instead holding firm, straight shoulders, chin high, eyes on fire and no tears to be seen. Not even a quiver to the voice. Just pure, unadulterated inquisition as she avoided contemplating her own feelings.
The things that she was strong, that she was certain about: she didn’t hate what she had become, but she had not yet allowed herself to grieve for what she had lost. She had regrets. She felt lonely, and just a tiny bit lost.
The things that she was uncertain about: Who the **** is Elijah Cole and why did she care what he thought? Why did she care at all? Who was this man who had come so spontaneously into her life? Was he there for a reason? And what the **** was she going to do with him, and his charitable ways and that damned ******* soothing voice of his?
He stood – Zelda could see it, out of the corner of her eye. He stood, and she straightened her shoulders; and even as he was pulling her closer, into his strong arms, he was tiling her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes, to see the genuine sincerity written all over his face. Her own eyes were ablaze, glinting in the dim light, bright, like phosphorescent orbs of wilderness. There was a wild creature inside of her, just waiting to get out. Claws were ready to be drawn. She was so damned uncertain about this man and she didn’t want him seducing her, not now, now when she needed to figure things out rather than push them aside due to his heady distractions.
The redhead was ready to push, to swing out of his grip but his voice had her freezing, glued in place. She should laugh at him. She’d done it before, hadn’t she? To men who’d admitted to loving her, she’d laughed in their faces. The relationships never lasted too long after that. And she, no, she could not remember ever telling any man that she loved him. As far as she was concerned, she had never felt love before.
And yet as she stood there, letting those words sink in, she didn’t laugh. That still appendage in her chest seemed to quiver, just slightly; a wave of cold and then a wave of heat seemed to pass over her body as shock registered. Those wild eyes of hers blinked, and then narrowed, furrowed. She could not object, could not sigh, could not say anything. Only a squeak escaped as Elijah’s warm lips slid over hers, tongue sliding into her mouth.
And all she could think: how dare he?!
Every fibre in her body told her to return the kiss, to forget everything and just give in to instinct and desire. Her mind, however, her overtaxed soul, had other plan in mind. In fact, those sharp teeth—the canines of which never receded but were always sharpened to dangerous points—were about ready to sink into Elijah’s probing tongue. Luckily, the man pulled away before he could suffer any of Zelda’s sudden and incontrollable irritation.
She pushed, hard. She slid her arm between her body and his grasp in an attempt to remove his hand from around her waist. With half her strength (because if she used all of it, she might toss him a little too far) she shoved.
”No you don’t! You don’t!” she shouted. Absolute and utter denial. She could not accept that he loved her, because with love came complication. ”And even if you did, what’s your plan? Where do you think your love is going to take you?” she asked urgently, pushing her hands through her hair, wanting only to collapse against his chest to sob inconsolably but instead holding firm, straight shoulders, chin high, eyes on fire and no tears to be seen. Not even a quiver to the voice. Just pure, unadulterated inquisition as she avoided contemplating her own feelings.
CN Handle :: Fitzy
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
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Zelda (DELETED 4403)
- Posts: 132
- Joined: 13 Jun 2013, 00:04
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
<Elijah Cole> He could not help not to touch her. She was his raging beauty, but when she pushed against his chest it was obvious that she did not want him touching her. While she stood there with him, telling and refuting his love, Elijah Cole just stared. He stared as she broke his heart and in that moment he was reminding himself that she was a scared, painfully scared woman. It was obvious that she had a lot of disappointment in her life. It was obvious that she had loved and lost, broke away from everything she knew to float in a new world of oblivion. It was a wide, wide body of water with no edges and she had to make her way through the currents. Any body of water, though beautiful, could be cold and cruel. It could gnash at your skin, thrusting its cold fingers around one's flesh for a never ending bitter hug. And here, he was looking at a woman who was railing against the currents and losing steam.
In a way, he almost feared for her. He almost feared that she had given up. That in this new life, she wanted no connections at all. So, as he stood there with her fists pushing against his chest, he took a step back with her strength. He stopped touching her. It took all of his own strength not to reach up and to caress his fingers over her angry jaw, to slide his hand back into her hair, or to haul her the hell back to him kicking and screaming. He never begged anyone to love him. He never begged anyone for time, attention, or to fill the space in his life. He knew that his family and friends loved him. They had taught him to be independent and personable, to share his wealth and his time. He graduated near the top of his class and never let himself be that guy that bought the people close to him or knew more than the next so his brain power was used for collecting minions. No, he was his own person. So, while Zelda was asking him what his plan was, confusion swiftly gathered upon his face. His lips turned down and the brows were drawn together. He stood there, holding onto Colonel's leash yet as the dog stayed hidden away below the bench as much as possible. "I was not aware I needed a plan to love you, Zelda."
And for a moment, he left it at that. Did she truly want a plan from him? Did he need to make an outline of what his love meant? Could they not just continue meeting each other, existing together, and wandering around the city on their late evening dates and enjoy each other's company? "Where do you think love will take you? Do you think loving you means I'll get hurt? Do you think loving you means that you get to just walk out of my life too, like you did your family and your friends? Do you think that you get to just deny it and be happy with that? That's what you did to them. But, you aren't happy. You're lonely." She said it herself. And he stood there in front of her yet, with his shoulders slightly fallen. He tucked his hands, for what it was worth, inside the front pockets of his slacks. After all, she didn't want him to touch her.
<Zelda> Zelda could see the hurt in Elijah’s eyes. She could see what she was doing to him. But she couldn’t stop. She had boarded a train and the brakes weren’t working – full steam ahead. His questions cut her to the core, and if she were a lesser woman she might have wailed and given in. But she wasn’t a lesser woman. She held her ground, her fingers flexing in and out of hard fists. She would do nothing to harm Elijah, not physically. Emotionally, the whips had only been pulled back, ready to be cracked again. The fire was still lit in her eyes, the muscles tense in her jaw as her teeth ground together.
“Yes. I think that I can walk away whenever I want to. Are you going to stop me, Elijah? Do you think your love entitles you to stop me from doing what I want?” she asked. She had every intention of following through, or so she told herself. It would be for the best – to walk away from this man and leave him to his happy life. It was a happy life that he led, wasn’t it? He had everything that he wanted, except for the friend that he had lost. But he would find her. And he would fix it. And they could live together, happily ever after. Zelda’s chin tilted up, petulantly.
No, she wasn’t particularly happy. Yes, she was lonely. No truer words were ever spoken; she assumed they were intended as ropes, chains to keep her there, with him. Because he made her happy, and he took away her loneliness. It wasn’t fair, that he should use that against her. She didn’t like it. It angered her, that he should use her woes in order to satisfy his love. She quailed within, even as she spoke the words – they were like barbs, crawling up out of her throat, hurting her as much as they would hurt him. Cat o’ Nine Tails. “Yes, you need a plan, because in your case, time is limited. In mine, it’s not.”
<Elijah Cole> Her words were sharp. They weren't just blistering, they split his skin open. He stood there, truthfully intact, while his heart was beaten. He had these discussions before, few and far in between with members of his family or someone who he would consider special in his life. Though, they were never quite as raw with this. Elijah always trusted himself with honesty, and he could only be thankful with that truth in his life. He never questioned Zelda to be a woman of weakness. He never questioned her to sugar coat anything for him. And though he appreciated that, he wondered what else this conversation was about. There was some hidden meaning, and he hated to see her broken over that. "I never said I love you because I thought it would stop you from walking away. I said I love you because I want you to know that if you do, you knew how I felt about you. Everyone deserves that. Everyone deserves to know that they are loved and appreciated. That they are looked forward to and held in a special place for whatever amount of time they have together." Though Elijah did drop his gaze for a moment, he was gathering his words while she continued to flail that blissfully painful tongue at him. "I don't have a plan for you, Red." He said that perhaps with a hint of defeat in his voice. He said that with a wash of anger. He said it with a complete loss of abandon. He had no plan. He had no right to her. He wasn't a fellow creature of the night. And in that very moment, Zelda was right. He wasn't as strong as she was. He wasn't someone who could stand up to her. He wasn't a man that could protect her. She deserved that. She deserved someone that she wanted to be around. She deserved someone that would give her a future. He felt the knots of emotion lifting in his chest, clawing at his throat and spreading around to act as a dead weight within his once teasing nature. His frown stayed in place, except for the fact that he started to school his features. He brought his shoulders up a little higher, he let the anger sort of drain away to mask in a blank stare. "I never had a plan." He admitted softly, taking a bit of another step back. It was almost a shuffle, in truth. It would be mistaken for distributing his tall height to the sudden new weight he was taking on. His happy go lucky attitude started to swirl the drain quickly as she called him on the fact that he never really truly had any particular plans in mind. He wasn't the kind of guy that saw diamond rings and white picket fences. So, with a bit of hesitation, he just sort of waited there to see if she would walk away first.
<Zelda> He hadn’t answered her question. That was the first thing that Zelda realised. Would he try to stop her from walking out of his life? From disappearing completely? She could do it. She knew she could. She could hide in such a way that he wouldn’t know where to find her. Wouldn’t know the first place to look. She had that tome, tucked safely away in her pocket, that would take her back to the dwelling beneath Nyla’s quaint little caravan. And why not? Her sire seemed like a depressed, scowling, never-happy hermit. Why shouldn’t Zelda follow the same path? It was hard to remain aloof when that was the only company one had – a woman who didn’t ever seem to be happy. It was infectious, that sour mood. And yet Zelda continued to return to the fold – because Nyla was the only person she had.
For whatever time they have together, he had said. Limited, Zelda knew. “You’re fine, as you are. You’re safe enough, and I suppose will continue to be safe enough given that nothing’s happened so far to put you in danger. But unless in the future you become what I am then YOU will grow old while I stay young. And I will watch you whither and die. I don’t want you to give up your life in the same way I have and to keep going, you and I will only be prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later one of us is going to have to walk away so why not now? It’s easier, now. There’s less… attachment,” she said, pushing the words out of her chest with full force. That’s what she’d been getting at the entire time. Attachment. That last word fell from her like a fish flying out of the water and landing on dry ground. With a thud. A realisation. She felt attachment, too much of it. And it wouldn’t bode well for either of them – and it had already gone too far for Elijah.
And so with that, she did back away. She’d said she needed him but she hadn’t really realised what it was she was feeling, or what it was she was thinking. She shouldn’t have come anywhere near him. She should have tried to come to this conclusion on her own – to back away slowly, so break the ties one bit at a time. So that he could never have uttered those words. “It’s better if we just….don’t,” she said. And turned her back, pushing her weight against the pavement, propelling forward on her skates. She could have tomed. She could have teleported. But she didn’t. She moved at a human pace. Something inside of her hesitated.
<Elijah Cole> It was a rush inside of his head. It was a realization that made him dizzy. It made him nauseous. It made his stomach swirl, churning with the threat for his dinner to come up and greet him as Colonel gave a low whine. He was fine? Of course he was fine. He had a beating heart and acted like any normal human would. Could. Did. He sucked in a breath, the hue of the world going blue around him as he hadn't realized he was holding onto that last moment when Zelda had said that he would grow old, wither, and die. There was nothing wrong with death. There was nothing wrong with growing old. He shook his head as she started to turn her back on him and propelled forward. "No!" He gave a shout. He lurched forward for her, attempting to find a wrist, to wrap his fingers around her waist, to tug on whatever blouse or top she was wearing and pull her back to him. "NO!" He said louder, this time in her face. In her ear. He lurched her against him as poor Colonel had to come too. The leash was still wrapped around his hand and his wrist and he pulled that redhead right around on her beloved skates. "No. You don't get to walk away from me. You don't get to just dismiss me. To dump me off. To leave me. No." He said against her face, his eyes blazing in that irritation of bright blue.
He had his hands on her. He pulled her by her wrists. He ignored any nails he would feel or sharp tugs of her denial. He sank his mouth against hers. He fused their lips in an angry kiss. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and the whimper whine and bark ensued from Colonel in the background as he continued to grip her wrists tightly. That kiss went on, pressure and the smooth sink of the tip of his tongue against the line of her lips. He wasn't asking permission. He was demanding. His tongue slipped inside again, tasting the sweetness of the woman that he had come to want. He barely pulled away, barely. He did just enough to see that red of her hair in the outline of her face. "You're mine. I want you. I need you. You don't get to rip a hole in my heart. You don't get to skate away free and clear." He whispered against her lips. He shoved his hands into her hair next, tugging her against him, demanding her proximity to him. "We will. We will not just don't. You can do your thing. You can go and do and be and gnash all you want. But I want you coming back to me." He breathed against her forehead, his chest rushing up and down as his breath was stolen. As he tried to take her all on. As he gripped her so tight he might leave bruises on her precious skin as his fingers wound around the redness of her hair and clutched her against him - his body plastered to hers and not obviously letting go.
<Zelda> Zelda tried, and failed, to resist Elijah’s hold. No, that was a lie. If she’d tried properly he’d be on the ground and bleeding, writhing in pain. If not that, he’d be left in the dust wondering where the hell his quarry went. No, in fact, it wasn’t that Zelda tried and failed to wrangle with Elijah’s strength or his need, but instead failed to resist how he made her feel. The desperation in his voice, in his eyes, licked at her heart and set it on fire. Her body was tense, to begin with. Her fists clenched and pushed up against his chest and her lips were slack as he kissed her, as his tongue probed. He was telling her what she could and could not do and she did not appreciate is. She should have bitten his tongue in half but she couldn’t.
She sobbed against his lips and finally seemed to collapse against him. Whatever harm his strong grasp might have bestowed was ignored. Somewhere, deep down, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way he wrangled her, the way it hurt. Maybe she deserved it. Her fists unclenched and her fingers splayed against Elijah’s chest. She could feel the vibration through his skin, his heart beating heavily underneath. Here was a man who was probably accustomed to getting what he wanted.
But he was also giving her exactly what she had wanted. She had not asked for it, and he couldn’t have known. But here he was, holding her while she broke into a thousand different pieces; keeping her stringed together, like the glue holding together her fragile skin. She buried her face against his neck, into his chest. Her voice was muffled, but she stayed enclosed in his grasp, comfortable and soothed, even if her heart was frazzled and burning. “Nooo,” she wailed. “You can’t tell me what to do!” she said, even lifting her foot and slamming her heavy skates against the pavement in petulant stubbornness. “You can’t always get what you want, Elijah!” she said, her voice still muffled.
<Elijah Cole> He could not help not to touch her. She was his raging beauty, but when she pushed against his chest it was obvious that she did not want him touching her. While she stood there with him, telling and refuting his love, Elijah Cole just stared. He stared as she broke his heart and in that moment he was reminding himself that she was a scared, painfully scared woman. It was obvious that she had a lot of disappointment in her life. It was obvious that she had loved and lost, broke away from everything she knew to float in a new world of oblivion. It was a wide, wide body of water with no edges and she had to make her way through the currents. Any body of water, though beautiful, could be cold and cruel. It could gnash at your skin, thrusting its cold fingers around one's flesh for a never ending bitter hug. And here, he was looking at a woman who was railing against the currents and losing steam.
In a way, he almost feared for her. He almost feared that she had given up. That in this new life, she wanted no connections at all. So, as he stood there with her fists pushing against his chest, he took a step back with her strength. He stopped touching her. It took all of his own strength not to reach up and to caress his fingers over her angry jaw, to slide his hand back into her hair, or to haul her the hell back to him kicking and screaming. He never begged anyone to love him. He never begged anyone for time, attention, or to fill the space in his life. He knew that his family and friends loved him. They had taught him to be independent and personable, to share his wealth and his time. He graduated near the top of his class and never let himself be that guy that bought the people close to him or knew more than the next so his brain power was used for collecting minions. No, he was his own person. So, while Zelda was asking him what his plan was, confusion swiftly gathered upon his face. His lips turned down and the brows were drawn together. He stood there, holding onto Colonel's leash yet as the dog stayed hidden away below the bench as much as possible. "I was not aware I needed a plan to love you, Zelda."
And for a moment, he left it at that. Did she truly want a plan from him? Did he need to make an outline of what his love meant? Could they not just continue meeting each other, existing together, and wandering around the city on their late evening dates and enjoy each other's company? "Where do you think love will take you? Do you think loving you means I'll get hurt? Do you think loving you means that you get to just walk out of my life too, like you did your family and your friends? Do you think that you get to just deny it and be happy with that? That's what you did to them. But, you aren't happy. You're lonely." She said it herself. And he stood there in front of her yet, with his shoulders slightly fallen. He tucked his hands, for what it was worth, inside the front pockets of his slacks. After all, she didn't want him to touch her.
<Zelda> Zelda could see the hurt in Elijah’s eyes. She could see what she was doing to him. But she couldn’t stop. She had boarded a train and the brakes weren’t working – full steam ahead. His questions cut her to the core, and if she were a lesser woman she might have wailed and given in. But she wasn’t a lesser woman. She held her ground, her fingers flexing in and out of hard fists. She would do nothing to harm Elijah, not physically. Emotionally, the whips had only been pulled back, ready to be cracked again. The fire was still lit in her eyes, the muscles tense in her jaw as her teeth ground together.
“Yes. I think that I can walk away whenever I want to. Are you going to stop me, Elijah? Do you think your love entitles you to stop me from doing what I want?” she asked. She had every intention of following through, or so she told herself. It would be for the best – to walk away from this man and leave him to his happy life. It was a happy life that he led, wasn’t it? He had everything that he wanted, except for the friend that he had lost. But he would find her. And he would fix it. And they could live together, happily ever after. Zelda’s chin tilted up, petulantly.
No, she wasn’t particularly happy. Yes, she was lonely. No truer words were ever spoken; she assumed they were intended as ropes, chains to keep her there, with him. Because he made her happy, and he took away her loneliness. It wasn’t fair, that he should use that against her. She didn’t like it. It angered her, that he should use her woes in order to satisfy his love. She quailed within, even as she spoke the words – they were like barbs, crawling up out of her throat, hurting her as much as they would hurt him. Cat o’ Nine Tails. “Yes, you need a plan, because in your case, time is limited. In mine, it’s not.”
<Elijah Cole> Her words were sharp. They weren't just blistering, they split his skin open. He stood there, truthfully intact, while his heart was beaten. He had these discussions before, few and far in between with members of his family or someone who he would consider special in his life. Though, they were never quite as raw with this. Elijah always trusted himself with honesty, and he could only be thankful with that truth in his life. He never questioned Zelda to be a woman of weakness. He never questioned her to sugar coat anything for him. And though he appreciated that, he wondered what else this conversation was about. There was some hidden meaning, and he hated to see her broken over that. "I never said I love you because I thought it would stop you from walking away. I said I love you because I want you to know that if you do, you knew how I felt about you. Everyone deserves that. Everyone deserves to know that they are loved and appreciated. That they are looked forward to and held in a special place for whatever amount of time they have together." Though Elijah did drop his gaze for a moment, he was gathering his words while she continued to flail that blissfully painful tongue at him. "I don't have a plan for you, Red." He said that perhaps with a hint of defeat in his voice. He said that with a wash of anger. He said it with a complete loss of abandon. He had no plan. He had no right to her. He wasn't a fellow creature of the night. And in that very moment, Zelda was right. He wasn't as strong as she was. He wasn't someone who could stand up to her. He wasn't a man that could protect her. She deserved that. She deserved someone that she wanted to be around. She deserved someone that would give her a future. He felt the knots of emotion lifting in his chest, clawing at his throat and spreading around to act as a dead weight within his once teasing nature. His frown stayed in place, except for the fact that he started to school his features. He brought his shoulders up a little higher, he let the anger sort of drain away to mask in a blank stare. "I never had a plan." He admitted softly, taking a bit of another step back. It was almost a shuffle, in truth. It would be mistaken for distributing his tall height to the sudden new weight he was taking on. His happy go lucky attitude started to swirl the drain quickly as she called him on the fact that he never really truly had any particular plans in mind. He wasn't the kind of guy that saw diamond rings and white picket fences. So, with a bit of hesitation, he just sort of waited there to see if she would walk away first.
<Zelda> He hadn’t answered her question. That was the first thing that Zelda realised. Would he try to stop her from walking out of his life? From disappearing completely? She could do it. She knew she could. She could hide in such a way that he wouldn’t know where to find her. Wouldn’t know the first place to look. She had that tome, tucked safely away in her pocket, that would take her back to the dwelling beneath Nyla’s quaint little caravan. And why not? Her sire seemed like a depressed, scowling, never-happy hermit. Why shouldn’t Zelda follow the same path? It was hard to remain aloof when that was the only company one had – a woman who didn’t ever seem to be happy. It was infectious, that sour mood. And yet Zelda continued to return to the fold – because Nyla was the only person she had.
For whatever time they have together, he had said. Limited, Zelda knew. “You’re fine, as you are. You’re safe enough, and I suppose will continue to be safe enough given that nothing’s happened so far to put you in danger. But unless in the future you become what I am then YOU will grow old while I stay young. And I will watch you whither and die. I don’t want you to give up your life in the same way I have and to keep going, you and I will only be prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later one of us is going to have to walk away so why not now? It’s easier, now. There’s less… attachment,” she said, pushing the words out of her chest with full force. That’s what she’d been getting at the entire time. Attachment. That last word fell from her like a fish flying out of the water and landing on dry ground. With a thud. A realisation. She felt attachment, too much of it. And it wouldn’t bode well for either of them – and it had already gone too far for Elijah.
And so with that, she did back away. She’d said she needed him but she hadn’t really realised what it was she was feeling, or what it was she was thinking. She shouldn’t have come anywhere near him. She should have tried to come to this conclusion on her own – to back away slowly, so break the ties one bit at a time. So that he could never have uttered those words. “It’s better if we just….don’t,” she said. And turned her back, pushing her weight against the pavement, propelling forward on her skates. She could have tomed. She could have teleported. But she didn’t. She moved at a human pace. Something inside of her hesitated.
<Elijah Cole> It was a rush inside of his head. It was a realization that made him dizzy. It made him nauseous. It made his stomach swirl, churning with the threat for his dinner to come up and greet him as Colonel gave a low whine. He was fine? Of course he was fine. He had a beating heart and acted like any normal human would. Could. Did. He sucked in a breath, the hue of the world going blue around him as he hadn't realized he was holding onto that last moment when Zelda had said that he would grow old, wither, and die. There was nothing wrong with death. There was nothing wrong with growing old. He shook his head as she started to turn her back on him and propelled forward. "No!" He gave a shout. He lurched forward for her, attempting to find a wrist, to wrap his fingers around her waist, to tug on whatever blouse or top she was wearing and pull her back to him. "NO!" He said louder, this time in her face. In her ear. He lurched her against him as poor Colonel had to come too. The leash was still wrapped around his hand and his wrist and he pulled that redhead right around on her beloved skates. "No. You don't get to walk away from me. You don't get to just dismiss me. To dump me off. To leave me. No." He said against her face, his eyes blazing in that irritation of bright blue.
He had his hands on her. He pulled her by her wrists. He ignored any nails he would feel or sharp tugs of her denial. He sank his mouth against hers. He fused their lips in an angry kiss. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and the whimper whine and bark ensued from Colonel in the background as he continued to grip her wrists tightly. That kiss went on, pressure and the smooth sink of the tip of his tongue against the line of her lips. He wasn't asking permission. He was demanding. His tongue slipped inside again, tasting the sweetness of the woman that he had come to want. He barely pulled away, barely. He did just enough to see that red of her hair in the outline of her face. "You're mine. I want you. I need you. You don't get to rip a hole in my heart. You don't get to skate away free and clear." He whispered against her lips. He shoved his hands into her hair next, tugging her against him, demanding her proximity to him. "We will. We will not just don't. You can do your thing. You can go and do and be and gnash all you want. But I want you coming back to me." He breathed against her forehead, his chest rushing up and down as his breath was stolen. As he tried to take her all on. As he gripped her so tight he might leave bruises on her precious skin as his fingers wound around the redness of her hair and clutched her against him - his body plastered to hers and not obviously letting go.
<Zelda> Zelda tried, and failed, to resist Elijah’s hold. No, that was a lie. If she’d tried properly he’d be on the ground and bleeding, writhing in pain. If not that, he’d be left in the dust wondering where the hell his quarry went. No, in fact, it wasn’t that Zelda tried and failed to wrangle with Elijah’s strength or his need, but instead failed to resist how he made her feel. The desperation in his voice, in his eyes, licked at her heart and set it on fire. Her body was tense, to begin with. Her fists clenched and pushed up against his chest and her lips were slack as he kissed her, as his tongue probed. He was telling her what she could and could not do and she did not appreciate is. She should have bitten his tongue in half but she couldn’t.
She sobbed against his lips and finally seemed to collapse against him. Whatever harm his strong grasp might have bestowed was ignored. Somewhere, deep down, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way he wrangled her, the way it hurt. Maybe she deserved it. Her fists unclenched and her fingers splayed against Elijah’s chest. She could feel the vibration through his skin, his heart beating heavily underneath. Here was a man who was probably accustomed to getting what he wanted.
But he was also giving her exactly what she had wanted. She had not asked for it, and he couldn’t have known. But here he was, holding her while she broke into a thousand different pieces; keeping her stringed together, like the glue holding together her fragile skin. She buried her face against his neck, into his chest. Her voice was muffled, but she stayed enclosed in his grasp, comfortable and soothed, even if her heart was frazzled and burning. “Nooo,” she wailed. “You can’t tell me what to do!” she said, even lifting her foot and slamming her heavy skates against the pavement in petulant stubbornness. “You can’t always get what you want, Elijah!” she said, her voice still muffled.
CN Handle :: Fitzy
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
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Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)
- Posts: 30
- Joined: 10 May 2014, 12:00
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
<Elijah Cole> As she stiffened in his grip, he almost cared. He almost cared that he was hurting her, but in an ounce of effort he could not loosen his grip. He could not let that woman go, his lips smeared against hers. He barely peeled his face away, his breath brushing against her mouth. He sucked down a gathered breath, afraid that his chest would spasm from the lack of oxygen that his nostrils refused to intake. He shook her. He let his hands grapple with her wrists and he gave her one good shake. He sank his hands back into her hair just as he shook his own head. He refused not to uncrowd her. He refused to take a step back from her form. From the way she felt against him. No, he continued to keep her oh so close. Those that were passing by were few and far in between now on that cement sidewalk. No, some were openly gawking while walking to their cars with their shopping bags and Colonel was panting behind Elijah Cole's legs while peeking up at his female friend.
"Yes, I can. Yes, I will. That's what being mine means. That's what being mine lets me do. You're mine. You were mine from the moment you flattened my *** on that bar room floor. Don't you get it, Zelda? That means you don't get to walk away from me. That means you have to stay and deal with me. I'm all yours, too. That's what being attached means. In means you have to deal with me. You have to listen to me. It means you don't get to walk away. Mine." He tilted up her face to him. His fingers tightened in her hair and he flexed his knuckles just to get her strands to pull upon her scalp. His bright blue eyes were so intense. They shifted back and forth, never breaking the stare she had to him. While she threw her little temper tantrum of clanking her skate back down on the pavement, he shook his head. "And little girls with temper tantrums get their bottoms spanked." He threatened her, still holding her close and refusing to let her go.
<Zelda> Her eyes glistened in the dim light. It shouldn’t have aroused her, the way he pushed her around, the way he forced her chin up and the way he told her exactly what he was going to. The way he claimed her, like some object, to do with as he pleased. No man ever treated her like this and got away with it. She’d be spouting feminist ******** that even she didn’t believe, and she’d offer a very swift knee to the groin. She’d done that already to Elijah before, hadn’t she? She should have told him that she wasn’t his. Never was and never could be. She should have told him that for all his flattering exclamations of love that she did not return it. That she did not consider him as hers. As something that she could claim and use. But the words got stuck in her throat. How could she spout such barbed lies when he was looking at her like that?
She could submit, couldn’t she? They could pretend that this had never happened. She could go on doing as she had been doing, and he the same. Except that she could never forget this conversation or the realisations that she had come to. And she would never forget that every night they spent together was another night that he would grow older. Fine, she thought. There were still years to go and, wouldn’t it be an adventure? Something to mold her heart around, to grow with and learn from. She wouldn’t smile, though. She submitted, but only to an extent. Although her eyes glistened, they did not soften.
“**** you, Elijah. It’s not going to work this time. I’m not a little girl,” she said. In fact, she was shaken. Everything that she had felt in the last hour or two weighed her down. This was not how little girls felt.
<Elijah Cole> She was beautiful. She always was beautiful to him. Whether in anger or joy, she was glorious. She stood strong and hard and demanded everything be given to her with a silent respect that he could only seem to agree upon. He caressed his knuckles along her soft tresses, watching her face as he refused to give her an inch to budge. "If you continue to test me, that *** of yours is going to be raw and I won't even flinch for the burning pain." No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't flinch for the redness that came to her skin. Instead, he'd relish it. He'd no doubt brush his lips against the heat in attempt to soothe the marred flesh after her punishment had been administered. The warning was only once though as he shook his head. She had him. She got him. If she threw him away, then he would have to deal with it. He would have to deal with the heart break and the hate and the fury of not being enough for her. He tugged her close. He pulled one hand from her hair and slid it down her back. He, on purpose, gripped her *** right there on the public walkway and didn't give two shits who saw. It was him, making an effort to contain himself. She was lucky that he didn't pull her back to that bench and make good on his threat right there out in the open.
No, he squeezed her *** cheek. He squeezed it while he was staring at her face. While she told him to **** himself and that she was not a little girl. Well, for that he understood. He knew where her anger was coming from. He felt relieved that she didn't pull herself from his grasp and continue to skate away. That she didn't fight or claw or scrape herself away. He held fast, his heart beating hard and strong in his chest over and over again. Her kissed her temple. He kissed her cheek. He kissed her lips while his hands held her in place against him. Soft, light, feathered kisses as the last one landed against her jaw and he dropped his head briefly against her shoulder. "It won't always be easy. It won't always be pretty. You may yell and scream and tell me nasty things, but in the end... It will work." He promised. He wasn't perfect and neither was she. He wasn't expecting the sun and the moon and everything wonderful in between. He was just expecting ... her.
<Zelda> It was always like this between them. Power play, power, drifting from one to the other and back again. By rights, Elijah was a human and Zelda, not. She had strength over him. But that’s not what this game was about. It was about domination and submission. About trust, and about allowance. Zelda, however, was indignant. Elijah had won this round, and she could be a sore loser. She didn’t like losing. She was a proud creature. She hated losing and it often got her into quite a bind. She never gave up, and one day it would probably cost her her life. Such as it was. Apparently she could come back from death. And her *** always seemed to be a point of contention; he treated it like a piece of meat and she refused to be just a piece of meat.
Despite the way he treated her ***, he peppered her face with tenderness, the stubble on his chin and cheeks tickling her skin as his lips blazed a trail over the contours of her face. When finally his head rested on her shoulder, he spoke words so sweet and alluring and plainly meant to comfort, that she nearly did let go of all her anger. She had wounded him, if not physically, then she had done so emotionally. There was the urge to lick those wounds, to heal them beneath a tender touch. To tell him everything he wanted to hear. But she still wouldn’t. He had won the battle, but he hadn’t won the war. She wanted to believe him, and for the moment she chose to, even though deep down she had her reservations.
Her hand slid up the hardness of his chest, fingers slipping over his collarbone, pushing up into his hair, before winding around to rest over the back of his shoulder. When her lips pressed against his neck, her red hair fanned out; no one could see what she was doing. No one would notice, as those always-elongated fangs struck the skin over the vein. If this is what he wanted, that he should be hers, and if she was going to be clutching her *** like that, then she would take what she wanted. Here in public. She didn’t give a ****.
<Elijah Cole> He knew the woman in his arms would not give up. He did not want her to give up. He did not want her to give in. He wanted her. Simply put, he wanted her to want him. And that no doubt was a hard choice for her to make. So, he would tell her. He had grabbed her, refused her to leave, and told her she wasn't allowed to. He had scowled and stared, kissed and gripped. He was still holding her now, enjoying the feel of her rounded rear in his palm. He liked that she was upset over it. He liked the fact that his holding onto her bottom made her scowl. In truth, he loved her ***. He loved the firmness of those cheeks and the way she squirmed in his hands when he went after it. In no way, despite her thoughts, did Elijah think of her rear end as a he was entitled to it. No, he respected it even if it got her hackles up. He just liked to grip that part of her at every opportune moment. And if she wasn't behaving, well, then she didn't deserve that minute ounce of respect between them.
With his forehead resting against her shoulder did only then he loosen his grip. He showered himself in her beautiful anger, defeated in that moment that still she was someone so much stronger than he physically. She had not walked away. She had not left him yet. And in that moment he had closed his eyes, his own shoulder length hair held back that evening. Colonel seemed content to flop himself back down now that they weren't intensely yelling at each other. The large dog took up the pavement and panted his pleased sense that neither of them were leaving. Her grip on his pulled back hair seemed tit for tat, his parents would say. He nearly smirked until he felt that sharp little pinches into the side of his neck and he gave a clutch of an inhale. His grip instantly dropped to her back while he flattened her out against his chest. The moan seemed to rise up, rumbling in his throat. However, it was not so loud that it carried far. Just to her ears as she seemed to seal the deal with her power over him and pretty retaliation for his earlier threatened spanking. Well... She could have his blood. It would rush along her tongue in that scent and taste of him. She had it before... And it would be unchanged perhaps except for the dark elixir of his mixed feelings in it.
<Zelda> What Zelda didn’t have over Elijah was height; so while she might not have sunk her teeth into him subtly, or without the intention of a little pain, she didn’t want the skin to tear. She didn’t want to have him bleeding profusely and spurting blood at the passer-by because she’d failed to feed cleanly, or with expert adeptness. Although the skates added a couple of inches to her height, he was still taller. She supposed Nyla didn’t call her ‘pixie’ for no damned good reason. And so as his moan aroused within her a deeper desire to claim him, she tightened her grip and lifted a knee to lock it over his hip, to lift herself that tiny bit higher as he tensed and crushed her against him. Her eyed fluttered; a woman had gasped and was shielding her young daughter from the view. Some puritan who thought they’d get down and fornicate in the middle of the street, no doubt.
Zelda ignored the woman and any implications. She silently urged Elijah to stay standing, rock steady, as she clung to him, fed from him, tasted him. She would not tell him that he was hers. That would only imply that she reiterated his feelings for her, that she returned them. In a fashion, this bite, this public display, was a stamp of affection, of claiming. She had her arms wrapped around him, one hand reaching up, nails digging into the skin behind his neck as she grasped at the collar of his jacket, pulling it down as she held her ground; as she did her best not to cause any more pain to her lover than he deserved. Yes, she could have been gentler. She could have removed those canines from his skin, just to suckle at the blood that seeped from his neck. Instead, the canines remained rooted, digging in, causing the blood to spurt. And finally those eyes fluttered shut so that she could focus on the taste of him; masculine, musky, rife with emotional adrenaline. Delicious. Hers.
<Elijah Cole> It was a controlled heat that ran through his system. Someone had hit the ignite button upon his person and his drive spilled forth a want for the woman that currently had her fangs in him - literally. The pain blistered across the nerve endings in his neck, dancing down over his shoulders to bunch and weave towards his beauty who had her mouth open upon his neck. As his unpure, human blood spilled into her open mouth, Elijah swallowed. He swallowed and let his lips open, nearly letting out a pant of pleasure as she stayed anchored within his skin. In that display, he knew that she meant business. He knew that this was the return he got for his earlier declaration. And Elijah didn't need the words. Actions, after all, were so much louder than words. He would slide his hands down her back and hoist her *** up. He'd help her keep that inch or two above her skates while his neck was bent and he gripped her rear with such a possessive hold to mirror her own actions. Beauty. His head swam and his vision blurred.
He slapped his eyes shut, ignoring the light headed feeling and revelled in her touch. He pulled her up against his groin. He might even have encouraged her to wrap those legs around him, but they were standing on pavement in the middle of the public eye with his dog panting at his feet ready for a treat after living through their disagreement just moments ago. This, this was enough. In this moment, he still did not have a plan. He wanted to take her home, to baste her ***, and to keep her near him. Wasn't that enough? He'd have to work on this plan. He'd have to work on something more to fit her expectations of him. But for now, for now he relished in the way his heart was beating faster and adrenaline was starting to pump through his system as he locked his knees and refused to feel the weakness that was starting to spread through his limbs even as his grip remained on her fine, rounded rear.
<Zelda> Zelda could be in trouble for this, feeding from a human out in public. Being seen even if people didn’t understand what they were seeing, didn’t see it for what it was. When she had the full ability not to be seen. That was a power she had; to hide herself and her prey even if in a surging crowd. She could feed when and where she liked without attracting unwanted attention. But there was something deeply grounding in this act; something physically astounding. Let the whole world see, she didn’t care. She welcomed it. Her pride would always welcome the attention, especially if she was seen to have the upper hand. Even if, now, neither of them would appear to have the upper hand. They were just two people getting incredibly close and ‘necking’ in the middle of the street, as far as the regular citizen was concerned.
And yet, the redhead was aware that she couldn’t continue. She’d kill him. And, if not that, she’d take too much and he’d pass out. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood to deal with his passed out, heavy body as well as the distress of the loyal Colonel. And so, reluctantly (not because she wished him harm but because he tasted so ******* good) she retracted those fangs. She licked the wound and it healed over, almost immediately. A dribble of blood had escaped, and was slithering its way down under the collar of his shirt; she pulled the fabric aside and, allowing Elijah to hold her weight, she licked it clean. She didn’t let that undoubtedly expensive fabric get stained. The tip of her tongue rolled over his salty skin, tasting every last drop. What she didn’t realise that the same escaped blood had also dribbled out the corner of her mouth, past her perfectly painted lips.
She drew back to look at Elijah. “You deserved that,” she said, warmly, her voice deepened by the blood coating the inside of her throat. She can still taste it, as it lingers under her tongue and between her teeth.
<Elijah Cole> As she stiffened in his grip, he almost cared. He almost cared that he was hurting her, but in an ounce of effort he could not loosen his grip. He could not let that woman go, his lips smeared against hers. He barely peeled his face away, his breath brushing against her mouth. He sucked down a gathered breath, afraid that his chest would spasm from the lack of oxygen that his nostrils refused to intake. He shook her. He let his hands grapple with her wrists and he gave her one good shake. He sank his hands back into her hair just as he shook his own head. He refused not to uncrowd her. He refused to take a step back from her form. From the way she felt against him. No, he continued to keep her oh so close. Those that were passing by were few and far in between now on that cement sidewalk. No, some were openly gawking while walking to their cars with their shopping bags and Colonel was panting behind Elijah Cole's legs while peeking up at his female friend.
"Yes, I can. Yes, I will. That's what being mine means. That's what being mine lets me do. You're mine. You were mine from the moment you flattened my *** on that bar room floor. Don't you get it, Zelda? That means you don't get to walk away from me. That means you have to stay and deal with me. I'm all yours, too. That's what being attached means. In means you have to deal with me. You have to listen to me. It means you don't get to walk away. Mine." He tilted up her face to him. His fingers tightened in her hair and he flexed his knuckles just to get her strands to pull upon her scalp. His bright blue eyes were so intense. They shifted back and forth, never breaking the stare she had to him. While she threw her little temper tantrum of clanking her skate back down on the pavement, he shook his head. "And little girls with temper tantrums get their bottoms spanked." He threatened her, still holding her close and refusing to let her go.
<Zelda> Her eyes glistened in the dim light. It shouldn’t have aroused her, the way he pushed her around, the way he forced her chin up and the way he told her exactly what he was going to. The way he claimed her, like some object, to do with as he pleased. No man ever treated her like this and got away with it. She’d be spouting feminist ******** that even she didn’t believe, and she’d offer a very swift knee to the groin. She’d done that already to Elijah before, hadn’t she? She should have told him that she wasn’t his. Never was and never could be. She should have told him that for all his flattering exclamations of love that she did not return it. That she did not consider him as hers. As something that she could claim and use. But the words got stuck in her throat. How could she spout such barbed lies when he was looking at her like that?
She could submit, couldn’t she? They could pretend that this had never happened. She could go on doing as she had been doing, and he the same. Except that she could never forget this conversation or the realisations that she had come to. And she would never forget that every night they spent together was another night that he would grow older. Fine, she thought. There were still years to go and, wouldn’t it be an adventure? Something to mold her heart around, to grow with and learn from. She wouldn’t smile, though. She submitted, but only to an extent. Although her eyes glistened, they did not soften.
“**** you, Elijah. It’s not going to work this time. I’m not a little girl,” she said. In fact, she was shaken. Everything that she had felt in the last hour or two weighed her down. This was not how little girls felt.
<Elijah Cole> She was beautiful. She always was beautiful to him. Whether in anger or joy, she was glorious. She stood strong and hard and demanded everything be given to her with a silent respect that he could only seem to agree upon. He caressed his knuckles along her soft tresses, watching her face as he refused to give her an inch to budge. "If you continue to test me, that *** of yours is going to be raw and I won't even flinch for the burning pain." No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't flinch for the redness that came to her skin. Instead, he'd relish it. He'd no doubt brush his lips against the heat in attempt to soothe the marred flesh after her punishment had been administered. The warning was only once though as he shook his head. She had him. She got him. If she threw him away, then he would have to deal with it. He would have to deal with the heart break and the hate and the fury of not being enough for her. He tugged her close. He pulled one hand from her hair and slid it down her back. He, on purpose, gripped her *** right there on the public walkway and didn't give two shits who saw. It was him, making an effort to contain himself. She was lucky that he didn't pull her back to that bench and make good on his threat right there out in the open.
No, he squeezed her *** cheek. He squeezed it while he was staring at her face. While she told him to **** himself and that she was not a little girl. Well, for that he understood. He knew where her anger was coming from. He felt relieved that she didn't pull herself from his grasp and continue to skate away. That she didn't fight or claw or scrape herself away. He held fast, his heart beating hard and strong in his chest over and over again. Her kissed her temple. He kissed her cheek. He kissed her lips while his hands held her in place against him. Soft, light, feathered kisses as the last one landed against her jaw and he dropped his head briefly against her shoulder. "It won't always be easy. It won't always be pretty. You may yell and scream and tell me nasty things, but in the end... It will work." He promised. He wasn't perfect and neither was she. He wasn't expecting the sun and the moon and everything wonderful in between. He was just expecting ... her.
<Zelda> It was always like this between them. Power play, power, drifting from one to the other and back again. By rights, Elijah was a human and Zelda, not. She had strength over him. But that’s not what this game was about. It was about domination and submission. About trust, and about allowance. Zelda, however, was indignant. Elijah had won this round, and she could be a sore loser. She didn’t like losing. She was a proud creature. She hated losing and it often got her into quite a bind. She never gave up, and one day it would probably cost her her life. Such as it was. Apparently she could come back from death. And her *** always seemed to be a point of contention; he treated it like a piece of meat and she refused to be just a piece of meat.
Despite the way he treated her ***, he peppered her face with tenderness, the stubble on his chin and cheeks tickling her skin as his lips blazed a trail over the contours of her face. When finally his head rested on her shoulder, he spoke words so sweet and alluring and plainly meant to comfort, that she nearly did let go of all her anger. She had wounded him, if not physically, then she had done so emotionally. There was the urge to lick those wounds, to heal them beneath a tender touch. To tell him everything he wanted to hear. But she still wouldn’t. He had won the battle, but he hadn’t won the war. She wanted to believe him, and for the moment she chose to, even though deep down she had her reservations.
Her hand slid up the hardness of his chest, fingers slipping over his collarbone, pushing up into his hair, before winding around to rest over the back of his shoulder. When her lips pressed against his neck, her red hair fanned out; no one could see what she was doing. No one would notice, as those always-elongated fangs struck the skin over the vein. If this is what he wanted, that he should be hers, and if she was going to be clutching her *** like that, then she would take what she wanted. Here in public. She didn’t give a ****.
<Elijah Cole> He knew the woman in his arms would not give up. He did not want her to give up. He did not want her to give in. He wanted her. Simply put, he wanted her to want him. And that no doubt was a hard choice for her to make. So, he would tell her. He had grabbed her, refused her to leave, and told her she wasn't allowed to. He had scowled and stared, kissed and gripped. He was still holding her now, enjoying the feel of her rounded rear in his palm. He liked that she was upset over it. He liked the fact that his holding onto her bottom made her scowl. In truth, he loved her ***. He loved the firmness of those cheeks and the way she squirmed in his hands when he went after it. In no way, despite her thoughts, did Elijah think of her rear end as a he was entitled to it. No, he respected it even if it got her hackles up. He just liked to grip that part of her at every opportune moment. And if she wasn't behaving, well, then she didn't deserve that minute ounce of respect between them.
With his forehead resting against her shoulder did only then he loosen his grip. He showered himself in her beautiful anger, defeated in that moment that still she was someone so much stronger than he physically. She had not walked away. She had not left him yet. And in that moment he had closed his eyes, his own shoulder length hair held back that evening. Colonel seemed content to flop himself back down now that they weren't intensely yelling at each other. The large dog took up the pavement and panted his pleased sense that neither of them were leaving. Her grip on his pulled back hair seemed tit for tat, his parents would say. He nearly smirked until he felt that sharp little pinches into the side of his neck and he gave a clutch of an inhale. His grip instantly dropped to her back while he flattened her out against his chest. The moan seemed to rise up, rumbling in his throat. However, it was not so loud that it carried far. Just to her ears as she seemed to seal the deal with her power over him and pretty retaliation for his earlier threatened spanking. Well... She could have his blood. It would rush along her tongue in that scent and taste of him. She had it before... And it would be unchanged perhaps except for the dark elixir of his mixed feelings in it.
<Zelda> What Zelda didn’t have over Elijah was height; so while she might not have sunk her teeth into him subtly, or without the intention of a little pain, she didn’t want the skin to tear. She didn’t want to have him bleeding profusely and spurting blood at the passer-by because she’d failed to feed cleanly, or with expert adeptness. Although the skates added a couple of inches to her height, he was still taller. She supposed Nyla didn’t call her ‘pixie’ for no damned good reason. And so as his moan aroused within her a deeper desire to claim him, she tightened her grip and lifted a knee to lock it over his hip, to lift herself that tiny bit higher as he tensed and crushed her against him. Her eyed fluttered; a woman had gasped and was shielding her young daughter from the view. Some puritan who thought they’d get down and fornicate in the middle of the street, no doubt.
Zelda ignored the woman and any implications. She silently urged Elijah to stay standing, rock steady, as she clung to him, fed from him, tasted him. She would not tell him that he was hers. That would only imply that she reiterated his feelings for her, that she returned them. In a fashion, this bite, this public display, was a stamp of affection, of claiming. She had her arms wrapped around him, one hand reaching up, nails digging into the skin behind his neck as she grasped at the collar of his jacket, pulling it down as she held her ground; as she did her best not to cause any more pain to her lover than he deserved. Yes, she could have been gentler. She could have removed those canines from his skin, just to suckle at the blood that seeped from his neck. Instead, the canines remained rooted, digging in, causing the blood to spurt. And finally those eyes fluttered shut so that she could focus on the taste of him; masculine, musky, rife with emotional adrenaline. Delicious. Hers.
<Elijah Cole> It was a controlled heat that ran through his system. Someone had hit the ignite button upon his person and his drive spilled forth a want for the woman that currently had her fangs in him - literally. The pain blistered across the nerve endings in his neck, dancing down over his shoulders to bunch and weave towards his beauty who had her mouth open upon his neck. As his unpure, human blood spilled into her open mouth, Elijah swallowed. He swallowed and let his lips open, nearly letting out a pant of pleasure as she stayed anchored within his skin. In that display, he knew that she meant business. He knew that this was the return he got for his earlier declaration. And Elijah didn't need the words. Actions, after all, were so much louder than words. He would slide his hands down her back and hoist her *** up. He'd help her keep that inch or two above her skates while his neck was bent and he gripped her rear with such a possessive hold to mirror her own actions. Beauty. His head swam and his vision blurred.
He slapped his eyes shut, ignoring the light headed feeling and revelled in her touch. He pulled her up against his groin. He might even have encouraged her to wrap those legs around him, but they were standing on pavement in the middle of the public eye with his dog panting at his feet ready for a treat after living through their disagreement just moments ago. This, this was enough. In this moment, he still did not have a plan. He wanted to take her home, to baste her ***, and to keep her near him. Wasn't that enough? He'd have to work on this plan. He'd have to work on something more to fit her expectations of him. But for now, for now he relished in the way his heart was beating faster and adrenaline was starting to pump through his system as he locked his knees and refused to feel the weakness that was starting to spread through his limbs even as his grip remained on her fine, rounded rear.
<Zelda> Zelda could be in trouble for this, feeding from a human out in public. Being seen even if people didn’t understand what they were seeing, didn’t see it for what it was. When she had the full ability not to be seen. That was a power she had; to hide herself and her prey even if in a surging crowd. She could feed when and where she liked without attracting unwanted attention. But there was something deeply grounding in this act; something physically astounding. Let the whole world see, she didn’t care. She welcomed it. Her pride would always welcome the attention, especially if she was seen to have the upper hand. Even if, now, neither of them would appear to have the upper hand. They were just two people getting incredibly close and ‘necking’ in the middle of the street, as far as the regular citizen was concerned.
And yet, the redhead was aware that she couldn’t continue. She’d kill him. And, if not that, she’d take too much and he’d pass out. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood to deal with his passed out, heavy body as well as the distress of the loyal Colonel. And so, reluctantly (not because she wished him harm but because he tasted so ******* good) she retracted those fangs. She licked the wound and it healed over, almost immediately. A dribble of blood had escaped, and was slithering its way down under the collar of his shirt; she pulled the fabric aside and, allowing Elijah to hold her weight, she licked it clean. She didn’t let that undoubtedly expensive fabric get stained. The tip of her tongue rolled over his salty skin, tasting every last drop. What she didn’t realise that the same escaped blood had also dribbled out the corner of her mouth, past her perfectly painted lips.
She drew back to look at Elijah. “You deserved that,” she said, warmly, her voice deepened by the blood coating the inside of her throat. She can still taste it, as it lingers under her tongue and between her teeth.
Human - Keeper of Colonel - Dabbler
Role Play Based Character
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Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)
- Posts: 30
- Joined: 10 May 2014, 12:00
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
He did deserve that. He deserved everything that she gave him. But, what he did not deserve, was being ignored. He did not deserve the look she gave him just before she turned away from him and had started to skate away. The look of goodbye. The look of dismissal. The very thought of her leaving him had his chest constricting and his heart beating out of his chest. The anxiety alone still had his head swimming and now he was a couple pints of blood lighter.
Gripping the woman before him, he seemed to relax slightly. Once those fangs were pulled from his flesh, the ache in his neck was something that he deserved despite the renewed, perfect and unmarred appearance. No, there was a deep ache where the tendons had been teased with sharp points and the meat of his flesh had been gnawed slightly. He cupped her face as she pulled away. Gently, he saw the woman's renewed zest for what she was. He saw that beast that raged inside her eyes and where that might have scared a lesser man, it enticed him. He shook his head and would have brushed that line of redness up away from the corner of her mouth as if it were ice cream. He'd let his thumb run over his very blood and he coated her bottom lip with it.
"Don't be surprised when I take you over my knee someday." He said it in a soft, quiet fashion. In a way that was not quite teasing, but a simple fact. He looked at her with adoration. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful, feisty, beloved woman he had come into contact with in years. Elijah, after all, made good on his intended threads to some point. He saw her in that moment. He saw her for the killer she was and it didn't seem to phase him. Perhaps, because he knew the woman behind the fangs. He knew the woman's mind just a tad bit more now.
"You should know that I would of been a very unhappy man if you left." Slowly, he gave her weight back to her skates. He eased her down his body, enjoying the rub of her against his front. It took a lot for him to admit that. He was still hurt. Her words still stung, leaving bruises on his mind and his tongue heavy with the realization that both of their words were painful to each other. "I'm sorry I misunderstood you tonight." He leaned forward, kissing her lips softly as his other hand reached up to cup her face. She deserved everything and he was only half the man she needed and he would struggle with that for the time to come.
Colonel stood now, winding around their legs and letting his leash entwine around their calves. He stood there in the darkness, letting his thumbs caress the woman's cheeks for a moment more before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for that tight hug. Yes, he would just take a moment to hold her again and hope it didn't end in the threat for another fight.
Gripping the woman before him, he seemed to relax slightly. Once those fangs were pulled from his flesh, the ache in his neck was something that he deserved despite the renewed, perfect and unmarred appearance. No, there was a deep ache where the tendons had been teased with sharp points and the meat of his flesh had been gnawed slightly. He cupped her face as she pulled away. Gently, he saw the woman's renewed zest for what she was. He saw that beast that raged inside her eyes and where that might have scared a lesser man, it enticed him. He shook his head and would have brushed that line of redness up away from the corner of her mouth as if it were ice cream. He'd let his thumb run over his very blood and he coated her bottom lip with it.
"Don't be surprised when I take you over my knee someday." He said it in a soft, quiet fashion. In a way that was not quite teasing, but a simple fact. He looked at her with adoration. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful, feisty, beloved woman he had come into contact with in years. Elijah, after all, made good on his intended threads to some point. He saw her in that moment. He saw her for the killer she was and it didn't seem to phase him. Perhaps, because he knew the woman behind the fangs. He knew the woman's mind just a tad bit more now.
"You should know that I would of been a very unhappy man if you left." Slowly, he gave her weight back to her skates. He eased her down his body, enjoying the rub of her against his front. It took a lot for him to admit that. He was still hurt. Her words still stung, leaving bruises on his mind and his tongue heavy with the realization that both of their words were painful to each other. "I'm sorry I misunderstood you tonight." He leaned forward, kissing her lips softly as his other hand reached up to cup her face. She deserved everything and he was only half the man she needed and he would struggle with that for the time to come.
Colonel stood now, winding around their legs and letting his leash entwine around their calves. He stood there in the darkness, letting his thumbs caress the woman's cheeks for a moment more before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for that tight hug. Yes, he would just take a moment to hold her again and hope it didn't end in the threat for another fight.
Human - Keeper of Colonel - Dabbler
Role Play Based Character
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Zelda (DELETED 4403)
- Posts: 132
- Joined: 13 Jun 2013, 00:04
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
Zelda shook her head. She knew Elijah liked to dominate, sometimes. If they ever fought it normally had something to do with their moods – with who felt like being on top, or who wanted to wear the pants on that specific occasion. She knew that he liked to play that game, to pretend like she was a little girl who needed punishment. It should have rankled Zelda, should have got under her skin, but she didn’t mind it. In fact, in the privacy of the bedroom she was willing to give trust, to submit, to play the game that he wanted to play. Sometimes. It turned her on, knowing that Elijah had his fetishes; that he was different to the men, or the boys that she had dated thus far. None of them had been quite so adventurous as Elijah. And all of them had been so weak when it came to Zelda’s temperament; her will to control. Elijah had learned which buttons to press to make her collapse and wilt, ready to be moulded by his capable hands.
A shudder passed through Zelda as she recalled, and as she let her imagination, for a second or two, to run wild. She bit her tongue to keep herself from issuing the violent retort; that she would not bend over his knee, that she would not submit herself to that. Not for her actions tonight, because she didn’t think that she’d done anything wrong.
It was the apology that had her stopping, and the words that he’d uttered previous to it. Yes, she did think that her actions were excusable, because she knew, now, what was going on inside of her own head and heart. Lacking the ability to make him feel what she felt, however, and lacking the words to properly explain, she could imagine how she might have done wrong; how she could have broken this strong man in two, just by walking away from him.
Again, she knew that she could tell him that he had no say. That after tonight, she could do exactly as she said she would. She could leave him, and he wouldn’t be there to stop her. Unless he locked her up somewhere, chained her down, he wouldn’t always be there to chase after her and hold onto her, to persuade her with his bruising grip or his desperate eyes, or the taste of his lips as he stole the kisses from her. She wouldn’t submit him to that worry.
Hey got tangled together by Colonel’s leash. If she tried to step back now, she would trip. It was as if the dog didn’t want the two of them to part, and this was his way of roping them together. Zelda didn’t try to disentangle herself. Finally, her lips were responsive to Elijah’s kiss; they opened, her own tongue dancing with his briefly before they parted, and he wrapped his arms around her. She curled her own arms around him, enclosing him in a vice-like grip as she again buried her face against his chest.
”I’m sorry, too,” she breathed. ”I shouldn’t have yelled. It just caught up with me, is all,” she said. She trembled, just slightly. She knew it wasn’t the end, but at least the desperation of her emotions had subsided, just a little.
A shudder passed through Zelda as she recalled, and as she let her imagination, for a second or two, to run wild. She bit her tongue to keep herself from issuing the violent retort; that she would not bend over his knee, that she would not submit herself to that. Not for her actions tonight, because she didn’t think that she’d done anything wrong.
It was the apology that had her stopping, and the words that he’d uttered previous to it. Yes, she did think that her actions were excusable, because she knew, now, what was going on inside of her own head and heart. Lacking the ability to make him feel what she felt, however, and lacking the words to properly explain, she could imagine how she might have done wrong; how she could have broken this strong man in two, just by walking away from him.
Again, she knew that she could tell him that he had no say. That after tonight, she could do exactly as she said she would. She could leave him, and he wouldn’t be there to stop her. Unless he locked her up somewhere, chained her down, he wouldn’t always be there to chase after her and hold onto her, to persuade her with his bruising grip or his desperate eyes, or the taste of his lips as he stole the kisses from her. She wouldn’t submit him to that worry.
Hey got tangled together by Colonel’s leash. If she tried to step back now, she would trip. It was as if the dog didn’t want the two of them to part, and this was his way of roping them together. Zelda didn’t try to disentangle herself. Finally, her lips were responsive to Elijah’s kiss; they opened, her own tongue dancing with his briefly before they parted, and he wrapped his arms around her. She curled her own arms around him, enclosing him in a vice-like grip as she again buried her face against his chest.
”I’m sorry, too,” she breathed. ”I shouldn’t have yelled. It just caught up with me, is all,” she said. She trembled, just slightly. She knew it wasn’t the end, but at least the desperation of her emotions had subsided, just a little.
CN Handle :: Fitzy
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
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Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)
- Posts: 30
- Joined: 10 May 2014, 12:00
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
He felt that shake of her head against his chest. Her luxurious hair would sweep against his neck, tickling the nerves there within his skin. He wanted to twine his hands around those beautiful red locks, to hold her head still and kiss that resistant mouth. He wanted her underneath him. He wanted to show her everything he felt for her beautiful mind and body. But, he perhaps was a little too hesitant at that moment to do more than hold her.
She was scared. She was lonely. What did he accomplish in that? Had he proved to her that he was there? That he was with her for that proverbial long haul? He wasn't so sure she accepted him. He wasn't so sure that she accepted he would be willing to step in her way so that she could see him. Even though he was so very human, he did not feel threatened by her very sharp teeth or the way that she made him feel. He perhaps had a longer time to accept it. He had an ability to roll the idea around in his head, settle the cards on his love, and swallow it deep.
He did not regret telling her. No, she needed to hear it. She deserved to hear it. As he had said, everyone deserves to know that they are loved and looked after. Everyone deserves to know who it is that enjoys their company and waits with baited breath for another chance to be together. And here, he let his hands fall from her cheeks to stroke down her neck. He gripped that porcelain column briefly. Some bystander could see that act and become fearful for the woman's whereabouts. Some could clutch their own throats and swallow the painful ball of emotion that still burned by his own Adam's Apple. His thumbs barely pressed against those Carotids. Was it right for him to even feel so very possessive in that moment?
As he continued to look at her without words, he smoothed his fingers down her shoulders and across her back. He would have stepped back an inch or two from her form had it not been for Colonel. However, that mammoth ran out of leash to wrap - the tug obvious across their calves. So, the beloved beast chuffed and wound himself the other way. Freeing his owner and the beautiful captive, slow but sure Colonel wound himself back around, taking the excess of the leash for as long as it would let him go.
He nodded to her apology. He nodded to the fact that she had said why. Part of him could not help but wonder what had set her off. Was it just her mood? Was it something he had said atop of that volatile mood of hers? He could still be standing here alone with only Colonel at his side. After a brush so close to losing her, the melancholy swarmed his heart. He reached down for her hand, still not bothering to say anything, and gently gave her a tug. With Colonel unwrapped and his nails sounding on the pavement, he started walking down the mall's sidewalk.
Finally, he broke his silence as he stopped in the parking lot. He didn't have a car there, and he looked to Zelda. He still didn't have a plan for her. He still didn't have the answers she wanted earlier. That weighed him down, wondering just what it is that she wanted from him in that plan. He hoped that something would help him formulate an equation sooner rather than later.
"Where would you like to go tonight?" He was being a gentleman. He was being the proverbial good man, no longer teasing or jovial in his question. There was no dirty innuendo or waggle of his brows. He tried not to sound beaten, even if the earlier tossed words had etched painful slices out of his backside.
She was scared. She was lonely. What did he accomplish in that? Had he proved to her that he was there? That he was with her for that proverbial long haul? He wasn't so sure she accepted him. He wasn't so sure that she accepted he would be willing to step in her way so that she could see him. Even though he was so very human, he did not feel threatened by her very sharp teeth or the way that she made him feel. He perhaps had a longer time to accept it. He had an ability to roll the idea around in his head, settle the cards on his love, and swallow it deep.
He did not regret telling her. No, she needed to hear it. She deserved to hear it. As he had said, everyone deserves to know that they are loved and looked after. Everyone deserves to know who it is that enjoys their company and waits with baited breath for another chance to be together. And here, he let his hands fall from her cheeks to stroke down her neck. He gripped that porcelain column briefly. Some bystander could see that act and become fearful for the woman's whereabouts. Some could clutch their own throats and swallow the painful ball of emotion that still burned by his own Adam's Apple. His thumbs barely pressed against those Carotids. Was it right for him to even feel so very possessive in that moment?
As he continued to look at her without words, he smoothed his fingers down her shoulders and across her back. He would have stepped back an inch or two from her form had it not been for Colonel. However, that mammoth ran out of leash to wrap - the tug obvious across their calves. So, the beloved beast chuffed and wound himself the other way. Freeing his owner and the beautiful captive, slow but sure Colonel wound himself back around, taking the excess of the leash for as long as it would let him go.
He nodded to her apology. He nodded to the fact that she had said why. Part of him could not help but wonder what had set her off. Was it just her mood? Was it something he had said atop of that volatile mood of hers? He could still be standing here alone with only Colonel at his side. After a brush so close to losing her, the melancholy swarmed his heart. He reached down for her hand, still not bothering to say anything, and gently gave her a tug. With Colonel unwrapped and his nails sounding on the pavement, he started walking down the mall's sidewalk.
Finally, he broke his silence as he stopped in the parking lot. He didn't have a car there, and he looked to Zelda. He still didn't have a plan for her. He still didn't have the answers she wanted earlier. That weighed him down, wondering just what it is that she wanted from him in that plan. He hoped that something would help him formulate an equation sooner rather than later.
"Where would you like to go tonight?" He was being a gentleman. He was being the proverbial good man, no longer teasing or jovial in his question. There was no dirty innuendo or waggle of his brows. He tried not to sound beaten, even if the earlier tossed words had etched painful slices out of his backside.
Human - Keeper of Colonel - Dabbler
Role Play Based Character
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Zelda (DELETED 4403)
- Posts: 132
- Joined: 13 Jun 2013, 00:04
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
There was something so completely enticing about being held the way he held her; the way his fingers wrapped around her neck. She wasn’t a tall woman. She wasn’t heavy-set. She was, for all intents and purposes, a pixie of a thing. A lot of people assumed her to be weak because of it, but of course a lot of people didn’t know anything about her past, or her hobbies. Even as a human, and specifically then, she thoroughly enjoyed throwing people off track. A girly-girl who was short in stature with dimples to melt the heart of any grumpy old man – they didn’t expect that she’d be a savage in the derby ring, causing many bleeding noses, missing teeth, and broken bones. She’d had quite a few of her own, in the course of her career. They didn’t expect that she would be so vicious.
Of course she knew that Elijah couldn’t really do much to harm her. Even if those warm fingers of his closed in and cut off her air supply, he wouldn’t be able to suffocate her. She didn’t need to breathe. It wasn’t a viable option for murder. Of course, he could break her neck, if he really wanted to. But it wouldn’t kill her. It would be an inconvenience, but it wouldn’t be fatal. Maybe if he tore her head from her neck, yes, that might snuff the life from her body, but she’d come back. And would he really be able to do that, anyway? Not with his bare hands.
Regardless, however, Zelda liked the way it felt. The way it reverted them to a clichéd and traditional sense of domination and submission; the way it normally is, with the male in power and the woman under his thumb. Zelda liked to think that Elijah could have his way with her; and she wasn’t wrong. She had a weakness when it came to this man and his too-blue eyes. The way he seemed to look right into her soul. Yes, she could resist him, if it came to physical strength. No, she didn’t want to.
The latter became obviously clear as he stepped away, as he took her hand and tugged her after him. He wasn’t letting her go, and Zelda assumed that was her own fault. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want him to let her go. She had instigated this meeting, hadn’t she? And all because she said she needed him. She needed him. Of course she would follow him. That had been her plan ever since she’d hit ‘dial’ on his phone number. And that’s exactly what she told him, when they reached the carpark and he asked her where she wanted to go.
She shrugged, and gave him a small smile. It wasn’t often that she didn’t have a solution, or a place to go. It wasn’t often that she was indecisive, or that she gave up all control to the other person. But she was standing there in the pools of light, civilization going about their tasks around them, but she may as well have been alone with this man. She’d had her emotional tantrum and now she was feeling depleted. Mentally exhausted.
”Wherever you are, babe. I didn’t have any plans beyond that. What were you doing? I’ll just tag along…” she said. And there was the classic Zelda – telling him that she would tag along, rather than asking whether it would be okay, or whether she would be in the way. Confidence – or lack thereof - had never really been a problem of hers.
Of course she knew that Elijah couldn’t really do much to harm her. Even if those warm fingers of his closed in and cut off her air supply, he wouldn’t be able to suffocate her. She didn’t need to breathe. It wasn’t a viable option for murder. Of course, he could break her neck, if he really wanted to. But it wouldn’t kill her. It would be an inconvenience, but it wouldn’t be fatal. Maybe if he tore her head from her neck, yes, that might snuff the life from her body, but she’d come back. And would he really be able to do that, anyway? Not with his bare hands.
Regardless, however, Zelda liked the way it felt. The way it reverted them to a clichéd and traditional sense of domination and submission; the way it normally is, with the male in power and the woman under his thumb. Zelda liked to think that Elijah could have his way with her; and she wasn’t wrong. She had a weakness when it came to this man and his too-blue eyes. The way he seemed to look right into her soul. Yes, she could resist him, if it came to physical strength. No, she didn’t want to.
The latter became obviously clear as he stepped away, as he took her hand and tugged her after him. He wasn’t letting her go, and Zelda assumed that was her own fault. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want him to let her go. She had instigated this meeting, hadn’t she? And all because she said she needed him. She needed him. Of course she would follow him. That had been her plan ever since she’d hit ‘dial’ on his phone number. And that’s exactly what she told him, when they reached the carpark and he asked her where she wanted to go.
She shrugged, and gave him a small smile. It wasn’t often that she didn’t have a solution, or a place to go. It wasn’t often that she was indecisive, or that she gave up all control to the other person. But she was standing there in the pools of light, civilization going about their tasks around them, but she may as well have been alone with this man. She’d had her emotional tantrum and now she was feeling depleted. Mentally exhausted.
”Wherever you are, babe. I didn’t have any plans beyond that. What were you doing? I’ll just tag along…” she said. And there was the classic Zelda – telling him that she would tag along, rather than asking whether it would be okay, or whether she would be in the way. Confidence – or lack thereof - had never really been a problem of hers.
CN Handle :: Fitzy
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
ZELDA FAYE || CRIMSON CATASTROPHE
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Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)
- Posts: 30
- Joined: 10 May 2014, 12:00
Re: Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]
He never let the grip upon her hand go. Not even to wrangle Colonel in who pulled at his own leash a time or two in effort to chase after a scent left on a car's wheel or bumper. He began to walk across the mall's parking lot. When her voice filtered into his ears, he did not stop. No, he had planned to take Colonel for a walk and then go home. He had been so busy that week that he struggled to stay awake upon that bench until Zelda had called.
Everything went down hill from there. Everything seemed to circle the drain and he still failed to understand what he had done wrong. Of course, he had apologized. She deserved his apology. She deserved his forgiveness, too. Though they were both angry, their moods seemed to be set upon simmer as if someone or both of them had reached over and turned down the gas underneath the burner. As she rolled along next to him, Elijah contemplated where he went wrong. The plan. That was it.
Did he go wrong? From his teasing to his confession to his apology, he wasn't exactly sure what else he could have said. He stepped down onto the pavement of the street, crossing it once the light turned the appropriate color to let them pass. He took a deep breath. He didn't sigh. Even though, perhaps he wanted to, he didn't bother with it. His feisty woman was at his side. He didn't dare drop her fingers to wrap an arm around her waist. He didn't want to come off as chauvinistic.
Instead, he kept walking. All the while, he thought about his future. He had not put much consideration into a family. Into a bride. Into the 2.4 children he might have had and the picket fence she spoke of. He would only briefly pause for Colonel to do his business or to scent his favorite fire hydrant. Did he even want those things? He had so many nieces and nephews now that his parents had their hands full. Did he want children of his own? Almost thirty and he never really truly thought about that before.
The mall was not too far from his apartment building after all. As his thoughts kept him quiet, they approached his building. The luxury white tower seemed to dominate half the block, rising above the rest of the buildings in the grande scheme of that make-shift hotel. He held the door open for her. He shook his head as the doorman rushed over from the counter where he was having a late night conversation with the security member. He didn't need someone to hold the door open for him, after all.
Still, he silently guided Zelda to the set of elevators that would take all of them to the top floor. He didn't know what to say. He didn't, after their argument, have much to say at all really. He quietly stood beside her, pressing that button to take him to the floor that required his password to breech. After punching in the five digit number, the elevator smoothly began to lift.
Yes, he was taking her to his home.
Everything went down hill from there. Everything seemed to circle the drain and he still failed to understand what he had done wrong. Of course, he had apologized. She deserved his apology. She deserved his forgiveness, too. Though they were both angry, their moods seemed to be set upon simmer as if someone or both of them had reached over and turned down the gas underneath the burner. As she rolled along next to him, Elijah contemplated where he went wrong. The plan. That was it.
Did he go wrong? From his teasing to his confession to his apology, he wasn't exactly sure what else he could have said. He stepped down onto the pavement of the street, crossing it once the light turned the appropriate color to let them pass. He took a deep breath. He didn't sigh. Even though, perhaps he wanted to, he didn't bother with it. His feisty woman was at his side. He didn't dare drop her fingers to wrap an arm around her waist. He didn't want to come off as chauvinistic.
Instead, he kept walking. All the while, he thought about his future. He had not put much consideration into a family. Into a bride. Into the 2.4 children he might have had and the picket fence she spoke of. He would only briefly pause for Colonel to do his business or to scent his favorite fire hydrant. Did he even want those things? He had so many nieces and nephews now that his parents had their hands full. Did he want children of his own? Almost thirty and he never really truly thought about that before.
The mall was not too far from his apartment building after all. As his thoughts kept him quiet, they approached his building. The luxury white tower seemed to dominate half the block, rising above the rest of the buildings in the grande scheme of that make-shift hotel. He held the door open for her. He shook his head as the doorman rushed over from the counter where he was having a late night conversation with the security member. He didn't need someone to hold the door open for him, after all.
Still, he silently guided Zelda to the set of elevators that would take all of them to the top floor. He didn't know what to say. He didn't, after their argument, have much to say at all really. He quietly stood beside her, pressing that button to take him to the floor that required his password to breech. After punching in the five digit number, the elevator smoothly began to lift.
Yes, he was taking her to his home.
Human - Keeper of Colonel - Dabbler
Role Play Based Character