Eva west sat on the chaise lounge her honey bronzed fingers stroked through the silken white and black fur of the feline that laid its massive head on her lap. She pulled the half chewed Gucci men's shoe from the massive maw "Sheba darling your going to have to quit chewing on all of Lionel's shoes he's starting to think you don't like him. " She scolded the 500lb Siberian tiger like it was a toddler child. Eva adored the animal she had bought her for Lyonel a few years ago for Christmas and they had grown particularly fond despite her taste for Lionel's designer dress shoes. The tiger nuzzled her hand for another scratch then yawned laying beside her.
Eva had been trying to build a better habitat for the Wiley tiger The main area was almost done but the foliage and fauna lacked something the bare walls needed something Lyonel's human thrall Jolie had a fantastic suggestion a mural Eva didn't have a artistic bone her body her eyes beheld beauty and knew it well. She picked up her phone and dialed the number for The Harper rock news and placed a add
Artist Wanted lucrative pay Must be familiar with painting murals . Must interview Portfolios are a must . Please call 555- 5464
Primary Prince (Skoll)
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Skoll
- Posts: 36
- Joined: 29 Jun 2016, 01:25
Re: Primary Prince (Skoll)
He had stumbled across the advertisement almost entirely unintentionally. He woke to a room cocooned in the pre-dawn haze. The light was anemic; a pale, borderline colorless thing. It crept across the duvet in weak pinstripes of gray. The monochrome light flooded his bedroom, softening the edges of the nightstand, blurring them. The sharp, insistent ring of the hotel phone cut across silence of the room seconds later. A low, muffled groan slid from his throat as his head resettled onto his pillow with more force than necessary. His temples throbbed in time with; the pain sluggish, barely more than a flirtation. The start, he knew, of a hangover that would grow teeth as the morning wore on.
His right hand rose a moment later, fumbling for the phone and lifting it from its cradle. “Good morning, Mr...ah. Mr…” The front desk attendant’s bright tone faltered, reluctant to stumble over the name. “Morning, beautiful.” The words were low, roughened with sleep. "‘Skoll’ is fine.” “...Skoll. This is your 5:45 AM wake up call.” The confidence returned to her tone, her words slightly breathless. Giddy, as if she were holding a sudden giggle at bay. “Thank you,” he managed, the words falling heavily from his lips, voice carrying the gravelly timbre of the groggy. There was an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth; the barest skein of fuzz thick on his tongue.
He hung up a second later, face burying itself in the crisp linen of his pillowcase with a low sigh. The dull hum of his phone disturbed the silence two minutes later. Like clockwork. Swearing under his breath, the threw back the covers, long legs swinging over the edge of the mattress as he dove for his phone. He reached it just as the screen darkened, offering the barest glimpse of a name. His manager. His thumb swiped the unlock screen a moment later; a text message followed on the heels of the call.
It contained a simple copy of his itinerary for the week, and a single, curt reminder:
1:15 lunch at the Dragon Gate. Do not forget.
Skoll scoffed lowly, before stumbling into the bathroom, the door closing behind him a hair harder than necessary.
Thirty minutes later found him in the hotel’s dining room, the remains of a largely untouched continental breakfast cooling on his plate, his hand idly cupped around a mug of coffee. The coffee was thick; its consistency closer to mud than true liquid. A pale imitation of Turkish coffee; still far weaker than he’d have preferred. The Icelandic were unapologetic connoisseur of coffee; in Reykjavík alone, it was nearly impossible to move in any one direction and not find a coffee shop on the corner. Theirs was a culture of artisan roasts; flavors that range from the subtle to the bold. Fanciful patterns made with cream.
The coffee that morning, imbibed one slow, bitter mouthful at a time, was as heavy on the tongue as cemetery soil, and twice as earthy. It was barely palatable, but it provided a minor mercy, in that it burned the edges of his hangover away, lent him clarity. The advertisement was nearly a footnote in the business section of the classifieds; narrowly avoiding being overlooked entirely due to the bold lettering. The previous guest had left the morning’s paper draped over the table; pages rifled through for an hour or so before indifference took hold, and the patron discarded it.
He had keyed the number into his contact’s on a whim. It was unlikely that he’d reply. His time in Harper Rock was limited; he’d been allowed two weeks, and no more.
Still, shortly after 11 that morning, he placed a call, arranging to meet and speak with the the individual who’d taken out the ad a week prior. Eva. Forty-five minutes later, and he’d arrived at the specified address, peering up at it in silence, the idling of the engine stalling into silence. He was shown inside some minutes later, left to linger in the doorway as his gaze took in the sight of Eva and the impressively large feline that demanded pride of place at her side.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. “You’re Eva, I assume. Is this a bad time?”
His right hand rose a moment later, fumbling for the phone and lifting it from its cradle. “Good morning, Mr...ah. Mr…” The front desk attendant’s bright tone faltered, reluctant to stumble over the name. “Morning, beautiful.” The words were low, roughened with sleep. "‘Skoll’ is fine.” “...Skoll. This is your 5:45 AM wake up call.” The confidence returned to her tone, her words slightly breathless. Giddy, as if she were holding a sudden giggle at bay. “Thank you,” he managed, the words falling heavily from his lips, voice carrying the gravelly timbre of the groggy. There was an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth; the barest skein of fuzz thick on his tongue.
He hung up a second later, face burying itself in the crisp linen of his pillowcase with a low sigh. The dull hum of his phone disturbed the silence two minutes later. Like clockwork. Swearing under his breath, the threw back the covers, long legs swinging over the edge of the mattress as he dove for his phone. He reached it just as the screen darkened, offering the barest glimpse of a name. His manager. His thumb swiped the unlock screen a moment later; a text message followed on the heels of the call.
It contained a simple copy of his itinerary for the week, and a single, curt reminder:
1:15 lunch at the Dragon Gate. Do not forget.
Skoll scoffed lowly, before stumbling into the bathroom, the door closing behind him a hair harder than necessary.
Thirty minutes later found him in the hotel’s dining room, the remains of a largely untouched continental breakfast cooling on his plate, his hand idly cupped around a mug of coffee. The coffee was thick; its consistency closer to mud than true liquid. A pale imitation of Turkish coffee; still far weaker than he’d have preferred. The Icelandic were unapologetic connoisseur of coffee; in Reykjavík alone, it was nearly impossible to move in any one direction and not find a coffee shop on the corner. Theirs was a culture of artisan roasts; flavors that range from the subtle to the bold. Fanciful patterns made with cream.
The coffee that morning, imbibed one slow, bitter mouthful at a time, was as heavy on the tongue as cemetery soil, and twice as earthy. It was barely palatable, but it provided a minor mercy, in that it burned the edges of his hangover away, lent him clarity. The advertisement was nearly a footnote in the business section of the classifieds; narrowly avoiding being overlooked entirely due to the bold lettering. The previous guest had left the morning’s paper draped over the table; pages rifled through for an hour or so before indifference took hold, and the patron discarded it.
He had keyed the number into his contact’s on a whim. It was unlikely that he’d reply. His time in Harper Rock was limited; he’d been allowed two weeks, and no more.
Still, shortly after 11 that morning, he placed a call, arranging to meet and speak with the the individual who’d taken out the ad a week prior. Eva. Forty-five minutes later, and he’d arrived at the specified address, peering up at it in silence, the idling of the engine stalling into silence. He was shown inside some minutes later, left to linger in the doorway as his gaze took in the sight of Eva and the impressively large feline that demanded pride of place at her side.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. “You’re Eva, I assume. Is this a bad time?”
The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care.
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Eva
- Registered User
- Posts: 117
- Joined: 31 Aug 2011, 07:42
Re: Primary Prince (Skoll)
The West farm Lyonel had lovingly dubbed it Green Acres it was a sprawling area. It had to be for the menagerie of animals that Lyonel and Eva had collected for their small family. Jasmine and the chickens, Chupa and his goats, They truly did make the spirit wraith happy and The lawn flamingos of course. Amyra and Snow needed plenty of room to run the farm had seemed to give Amyra plenty of space she hadn't taken off on one of her city wide adventures in a long time now... Eva secretly thought it had something to do with Snow the white Wolf pup that Lyonel had gotten her. She was now grown but her and the chocolate lab had become thick as thieves
It had been a week before anyone had responded to her add for a artist. The young man that had responded sounded very promising. Jolie had set up a appointment for Eva. The night was beautiful and the stars shown brightly. The fire in the patio fire pit illuminated the area in its warm glow and the running water of the fountain leant its subtitle tones to the music of the night.
Sheba was in a playful mood. She rubbed her massive head against Evas leg and tried to demand her attention as she sat in front of her computer screen adjusting her makeup carefully. Her honey bronzed skin was quite helpful as a vampire but toning down the flawless perfections when meeting humans with a bit of makeup had become a second habit for Eva.
She heard the car before it touched the drive. She could hear the heart beat the moment he stepped out and his scent invaded her space just as quickly as his aura assaulted her tracking senses. Her eyes lifted apprising the young man as he approached. Sheba was still seeking her attention at her side. Then he spoke as her eyes drank him in . She smiled and approached Sheba keeping pace with her "Yes I am Eva West Welcome to my home Green Acers Mr Skoll isn't it?"
She didn't give much pause to the name he would correct her if need be " I am in desperate need of a artist I have a extensive project that needs immediate attention. Did you bring your portfolio?"
It had been a week before anyone had responded to her add for a artist. The young man that had responded sounded very promising. Jolie had set up a appointment for Eva. The night was beautiful and the stars shown brightly. The fire in the patio fire pit illuminated the area in its warm glow and the running water of the fountain leant its subtitle tones to the music of the night.
Sheba was in a playful mood. She rubbed her massive head against Evas leg and tried to demand her attention as she sat in front of her computer screen adjusting her makeup carefully. Her honey bronzed skin was quite helpful as a vampire but toning down the flawless perfections when meeting humans with a bit of makeup had become a second habit for Eva.
She heard the car before it touched the drive. She could hear the heart beat the moment he stepped out and his scent invaded her space just as quickly as his aura assaulted her tracking senses. Her eyes lifted apprising the young man as he approached. Sheba was still seeking her attention at her side. Then he spoke as her eyes drank him in . She smiled and approached Sheba keeping pace with her "Yes I am Eva West Welcome to my home Green Acers Mr Skoll isn't it?"
She didn't give much pause to the name he would correct her if need be " I am in desperate need of a artist I have a extensive project that needs immediate attention. Did you bring your portfolio?"
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Skoll
- Posts: 36
- Joined: 29 Jun 2016, 01:25
Re: Primary Prince (Skoll)
One of Skoll's earliest childhood memories centered around his father's pair of Tamaskans. He'd purchased them from a breeder before the novelty of the breed wore off; fueled by anxious mothers who would shepherd her children hurriedly down the sidewalk whenever they strayed too close, captivated by their lean, muscular frames and thick fur, and the media frenzy that condemned them as volatile and unpredictable. Modern day beasts that leapt from the pages of Grimm's, ready to devour the bones of unattended infants. He remembered the kerosene haze of their gaze in the dark; the way their eyes gleamed pale gold in the light of the fireplace, keeping a watchful eye on his toddling steps from where they'd curled on the rug. Looking at Sheba as she pressed close to Eva's calf, he could understand his neighbor's apprehension, so many years ago.
"Just Skoll," he replied, answering her easy smile with one of his own. He'd taken to going by his first name and nothing else four years before, at his manager's suggestion. It had felt cripplingly cliche, at the time; in part because he associated one word names with the handful of celebrities who'd used it as desperate means to stay relevant as their fanbase began graying. She'd assured him that the singular name suited him; that it was fashionable. It helped that, unlike his surname, it was nearly impossible to **** up. "'Mr.' makes me worry that I'll need to start fretting about gray hair," he finished. "It's nice to meet you, Eva."He extended his hand a second later, the movement cautious. He wasn't sure of the tigress's temperament. It was better not to risk offense and avoid any sudden movement. As it was, he still had the unsettling feeling that he'd wandered backstage during a Siegfried and Roy production.
He was unperturbed by her appraisal - he was used to it; even welcomed it. It was her mention of a project that caught his attention. Even the classified had been vague, citing experience and the promise of pay, but not much else. He raised a brow at the question. "What did you have in mind?"He asked, even as he reached to loosen the strap of the messenger bag that hung from his shoulder. "I do," he confirmed, taking a moment to peel the velcro flap open. His hand slid inside a moment, retrieving an impressively thick binder. The pages inside were laminated and carefully dated on the reverse. Some only held dates; others listed cities, along with the name of their commissioner. The rear pockets held both his resume and a scattered handful of business cards. He offered the binder to Eva wordlessly, shooting her an expectant look. "What sort of timeframe will we be working with?" he ventured cautiously.
"Just Skoll," he replied, answering her easy smile with one of his own. He'd taken to going by his first name and nothing else four years before, at his manager's suggestion. It had felt cripplingly cliche, at the time; in part because he associated one word names with the handful of celebrities who'd used it as desperate means to stay relevant as their fanbase began graying. She'd assured him that the singular name suited him; that it was fashionable. It helped that, unlike his surname, it was nearly impossible to **** up. "'Mr.' makes me worry that I'll need to start fretting about gray hair," he finished. "It's nice to meet you, Eva."He extended his hand a second later, the movement cautious. He wasn't sure of the tigress's temperament. It was better not to risk offense and avoid any sudden movement. As it was, he still had the unsettling feeling that he'd wandered backstage during a Siegfried and Roy production.
He was unperturbed by her appraisal - he was used to it; even welcomed it. It was her mention of a project that caught his attention. Even the classified had been vague, citing experience and the promise of pay, but not much else. He raised a brow at the question. "What did you have in mind?"He asked, even as he reached to loosen the strap of the messenger bag that hung from his shoulder. "I do," he confirmed, taking a moment to peel the velcro flap open. His hand slid inside a moment, retrieving an impressively thick binder. The pages inside were laminated and carefully dated on the reverse. Some only held dates; others listed cities, along with the name of their commissioner. The rear pockets held both his resume and a scattered handful of business cards. He offered the binder to Eva wordlessly, shooting her an expectant look. "What sort of timeframe will we be working with?" he ventured cautiously.
The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care.
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Eva
- Registered User
- Posts: 117
- Joined: 31 Aug 2011, 07:42
Re: Primary Prince (Skoll)
Eva took the binder and motioned for the young man to follow her and take a seat Sheba followed her long lean muscles slinking and curling up beside Evas feet as she sat on the chaise lounge. The seat opposite her empty and waiting for its occupant to arrive . "Well Skoll you have awhile to worry about the gray hair as for the time frame it all depends on how fast you work and if I like what I see in this book " She started to thumb through it not saying a word stopping every now and then to read and nod . "Well it seems like you have more than enough experience and I like your style ... So now the question is will you want to take the job. Sheba has a extensive habitat and there are walls plain walls and I would like them not to be so plain. I want murals and they need to be incredibly detailed from the looks of your work your well suited. Do you have some where else that you have to be ?"
She watched him carefully his looks were fair and he was defiantly talented. Most would have asked her to put Sheba up or even asked if it were safe for them to be there worried about their own skin . He had shown caution but had accepted that the large feline wasn't going to attack and devour him on a whim. Eva appreciated that. It meant that she had found someone that would work well here in her little sanctuary. "I will show you the area and then we can discuss price Yes ? "
She watched him carefully his looks were fair and he was defiantly talented. Most would have asked her to put Sheba up or even asked if it were safe for them to be there worried about their own skin . He had shown caution but had accepted that the large feline wasn't going to attack and devour him on a whim. Eva appreciated that. It meant that she had found someone that would work well here in her little sanctuary. "I will show you the area and then we can discuss price Yes ? "