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At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 13 Sep 2017, 14:59
by Arun (DELETED 9048)
Arun was a meek, solitary individual whose sense of fashion could flip from the downright gypsy to … well, mostly gypsy, in the grand scheme of things. His hair was of an unwieldy sort that, if left to grow too long would look like a frizzy mess atop his head. If left to his own devices, if living alone, he would often look the part of a homeless bum living on a street corner. If it weren’t for the ever-savvy Vasille, Arun wouldn’t look human.
Vasille was Arun’s older brother. One might never have guessed it. Arun was the one with a job that paid most of their bills (though let’s be honest, if either of them hit rock bottom, Mum and Dad would bail them out). They were all artists and creative souls, Arun the only logical one with a scientific mind. And yet, he’d been the one landed with power he could not understand, with abilities he wished not to share with others lest he be thrown into a cell somewhere, wrapped up in a straight jacket.
It was Vasille who eventually pulled Arun away from his books under the pretence of there being no food in the fridge. They needed groceries but all the proper grocery shops were closed, he said. And he was hungry. He’d been complaining about hunger for the last hour and it was all a ruse, of course. At first, Arun dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and flip-flops, not thinking they were going very far. It was Vasille who convinced him to instead put on a dress shirt and jeans. He wanted to go to a restaurant! For once in their lives, they could eat something proper, couldn’t they?
Arun was paying zero attention as they meandered into the University grounds; the University could be an entire suburb all on its own, and though it was where Arun worked, and the little streets and all the old buildings were completely familiar to him, he assumed it was a short cut (given they lived so close to campus).
One of the cafes there—normally closed at night time—was open. From within came the sound of quiet acoustic, some young musician set up on a small stage to provide background ambiance. The tables were all set up for two, each with a candle, a table number, and a single rose in the middle. Arun scoffed, still completely clueless.
”Didn’t know you were such a romantic, Vasille,” he said.
”No no, but you need to learn to be, brother,” Vasille said. The two brothers shared the same accent, one that could not be properly dissected, not unless someone was an expert linguist. Mostly, it was the Romanian that thickened and took control. Vasille’s hand was now on Arun’s shoulder, gripping tight as if he expected his brother to run away. Arun, still completely gullible, had not yet caught on. They approached the podium where Vasille cheerily announced that Arun and Vasille Dumitrescu were here, and the blonde college student behind the podium beamed her Colgate smile.
”You’ll be starting at table number seven, Arun. Vasille, table ten,”[/color] she said. ”We don’t start for another ten minutes so feel free to grab a drink, and something to eat from the buffet,” she said. Arun blinked before it finally dawned on him.
”Oooh, no! No, Vasille. Why… what have you done?” he groaned, but his brother only laughed and pulled Arun further inside, deeper into the mingling crowd.
”You’ll thank me later, brother. You need a girlfriend!” he said, making a beeline for the buffet table, wasting no time in whisking up a plate for himself and for his brother. Vasille could eat like a horse but never put on any weight.
”YOU already have a girlfriend, Vasille. Why are you here?!” Arun asked, holding the plate Vasille had handed him, like it was a foreign object and he had no idea what to do with it.
”It doesn’t matter. She thinks you need a girlfriend too. Look! She’s even here,” Vasille said, pointing to his girlfriend, Amelia, who’d also spotted Vasille and was wending her way through the gathered throng. Vasille was heaping pile after pile of spaghetti onto his plate.
Eventually, Vasille and Amelia went to find a place to perch, keeping an eye on the confused and flabbergasted Arun. He’d put his plate back, hungry but now too nervous to do anything about it, afraid of spilling half his food down the clothes his brother had so carefully helped him to pick out. Ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye and Arun found himself robotically moving toward table seven; the bells had chimed.
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 23 Sep 2017, 02:35
by Karma
A smirk wicked as sin curled the buxom Latina’s sensual lips as she curled her fingers, placing a loose fist on her hip as she let the pair of tall white heels dangle from a slender digit of the other hand, the narrow strap of leather the only thing keeping them from free-falling to the concrete sidewalk as Karma’s brilliant blue eyes rolled back into her head, an annoyed huff blowing a long silky lock of midnight black hair out of her face. She was dressed to kill, as was her style every minute of every day, her entire person seemed at once wild and hot-blooded while perfectly prepped and immaculately done-up. Her makeup was on point, and the bright blue of her dress made her eyes pop, a pair of sparkling sapphires set in a perfectly beautiful face.
A slender wrist turned, a diamond watch dangling loosely from the arm that continued to tick away precious seconds even as she watched in her growing dismay. “Cali, girl, I promised mami I’d have you there in just a few minutes. Can’t you walk any faster?” The Texas native gave the redhead a playful glare, her narrowed eyes watching her master’s daughter, of sorts, stroll her way down the sidewalk like she hadn’t a care in the entire world, like they had all the time that they could have asked for. It was making Karma nervous to no end that they would be late. Freyja wouldn’t like that she had disappointed her. She sighed and tapped a bare foot against the sidewalk as she reminded herself that, as far as vampires went, these girls were actually nicer than she would have imagined. She needed to stop being so paranoid, but when Karla kept pissing them off at every turn, it made for more stress than she was used to handling.
She took a breath and gave the woman a smile. “I promise, girl, I will be right there with you. Do you have everything you need before we head inside? You look perfect, no need to worry about that, mamacita.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door and bent down to set her heels on the ground. Carefully, she stepped into the tall, six-inch heels and skillfully stooped to work the straps over her ankles. She was upright in a matter of seconds, just in time to come eye-to-eye with the vampire that, at least she had felt, had become one of her better friends in the past few months.
She likely didn’t feel the same, but again, she felt like she could blame her sister for that. Often, people found it difficult to separate their feelings for one of the twins from the other. Especially when they were apart. She gave Caligrace a smile, perfect white teeth gleaming in the genuine grin as she lifted a hand to pull a loose fist back through her dark hair. Maybe she would get more done here tonight than helping her friend through an evening of something she clearly didn’t want to deal with. Maybe she could find something, someone for herself, though, with her outrageous standards and admittedly ridiculous expectations, she had her doubts.
She pulled out a small compact mirror and checked herself with a quick glance, the pad of her pinky finger passing over her lower lip as she leveled out her gloss and, with a snap, shut the compact and dropped it back into her bag. She smirked and tipped her head toward the door. “Alright girl, you ready? Don’t worry, mami will be along later. You know how she can be. Fashionably late with a flashy as hell entrance. If I’ve ever seen anyone flash their money around, it’s that girl.”
She laughed, the sound light and easy, her nervousness melted away in the proximity of the woman as she looped her arm loosely around the vampire’s. She didn’t even flinch at the cool touch, as she had at the first. She was becoming more and more used to them and the strange nature of what they really were. She turned toward the door and moved to guide the small redhead in the direction of the café. Her heels clicked sharply with her first step, the sound bouncing off the brick walls of the mostly empty street. Most of the shops were closed this late on campus, the odd exception here and there, including the place they had all agreed to meet.
At the door, she paused, and gently grasped Cali’s arm. “You step in first. You’ll have more of an impact that way. Just trust me.” She gave the woman a wink and tugged lightly at her arm, insisting that she go first as her other hand shouldered her white leather bag and pulled the door open with a single fluid motion.
Here goes nothing.
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 01 Oct 2017, 22:01
by Caligrace
Her annoyance was thinly veiled as she stepped off of the curb, slender fingers tucked loose into the counter of her heels. They swayed precariously from her slender digits, the blue a sharp contrast to the pale pallor of her skin, and she couldn’t fathom why she had removed them. It had happened somewhere between the construction site and the café, when she had watched the curvaceous Texan stop mid-stride to quickly unwind the white leather strap of her own heel and wiggle her toes against the rough granite. Something about the freedom in which she moved after that had her following suit, though now, four miles in, she found herself deeply regretting the action.
Pressing her fingers through her fiery mane, she narrowed her eyes on the girl as she turned, lips curving into a dark smirk that seemed almost unsettling on her cherub features. It caused her own red painted lips to curve into a familiar frown, one that spoke volumes of her displeasure for the planned events. When the woman finally turned, those sapphire gems sparkling with worry and excitement, she sighed. In truth, she could have teleported the both of them to the entrance and saved the torture of trekking halfway across the city, but the second Karma had let it slip where they were headed – she had done everything within the realm of possibility to slow them down.
“I could,” she chimed, her voice as smooth as southern honey, “I’d rather not.” The last words earned her a sharp glare, one that almost made her laugh, but she found herself valuing her friendship with the thrall. After all, unlike her twin, Karma managed to keep her entertained – and she had somehow managed to wrap Caspian around her little tanned finger. Neither of those things, however, made her speed up her sloth-like stride. “I’m not worried about Frey, girl, and you shouldn’t be, either. She’s harmless.” The lie was easy enough to deliver, especially when she saw the panic flare in her eyes.
How anyone was frightened of the Amazonian blonde astounded her. She had broken nearly every bone in her body the night she had murdered her, and to this day, she hadn’t feared her. She was just… Freyja. When the thrall snapped her mirror shut, her inspection clearly over, Caligrace merely arched a perfect brow. She couldn’t recall the last time she had needed to use a mirror. She had perfected the art of make-up the moment she had woken the next morning, only to be told that she might not want to look at her reflection. She never had, either, and instead relied solely on the opinions of their small, enthralled army. Who else could she trust not to lie but those that literally couldn’t.
Stepping onto the curb, she casually dropped her heels to the ground, slender feet sliding easily into them before she smoothed a hand down the white of her dress. It was a strange outfit, one that she normally wouldn’t purchase, but something about it had caught her eye. The way it hugged her form and showcased her legs had caught the eye of quite a few at the mall, and she had been sold the moment Valiant had nearly swallowed his tongue when she waltzed out of the dressing room. Sure that she had every piece of hair in place, that her lips were perfectly painted and her dress in immaculate condition, she finally stepped over the final curb and towards the door.
“You know you owe me for this, right? I expect you to show up at Myth bright and early Monday morning for inventory. I know how much you hate it, but I think it’s only fair,” she chimed, her smile innocent, even as her golden eyes sparkled with mischief. Once the Texan was at her side, arm hooked through hers, she turned to brush a kiss across the curve of her cheek before stepping aside. Compared to the dress she’s wearing, I’ll be lucky if anyone even realizes I’m there, she thought, the bitteress silently rearing its head before she had a chance to silence it.
She had always had a problem with her esteem, and it had only worsened since the men she dated kept disappearing in thin air – the worse of which had been Elighan. Even now, a year later, his memory caused her chest to tighten, and the e-mail she had found buried in her spam folder the night before hadn’t helped. The words still played in her mind, leaving a sour taste on her tongue that no amount of candy or wine had been able to cover. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pushed that piece of drama into the back of her head, where it would was quickly secured behind iron chains, before she turned another one of her kilowatt smiles on the thrall.
“If you insist,” the businesswoman hummed, her hand once more – anxiously – finding its way into her hair. The door swung open just as she made a move for it, a woman with hair the color of a midnight sky and eyes too large for her face stumbling out, skin ashen and lips trembling. The tears that stained her cheeks spoke the words her thin lips refused to, and she instantly knew that she hadn’t made it far. Narrowing her eyes on her retreating back, the redhead sighed for a second before rolling her eyes, hand pressing firmly to the door. If her sire wanted her here, she didn’t have a choice, did she?
Tucking her clutch beneath her arm, she tilted her head at the chime of a bell, and found a number tucked into her hand. It was then she realized she hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to do. What in the hell did someone do at these things? Turning around, she searched the crowd, eyes frantic, for Karma – only to realize the woman had disappeared, her full *** already firmly planted in a chair across from someone. I’m so going to kill her later, she thought as she ran the pad of her thumb over her ticket – and found the only empty seat available, lips curved into a welcoming smile, even as she felt as if she might throw up at any given moment.
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 12 Oct 2017, 12:35
by Arun (DELETED 9048)
Arun wasn’t one for crowds. Crowds made him nervous. All those people laughing and chatting, like they all knew each other even though most of them were probably strangers. And it seemed like only half the crowd were actually participating in the speed dating part of the evening; or maybe they had a few different sessions and there were people milling around from one that had happened previously. There was a hush when the bell chimed, a lull in the conversation like a wave pulling back from the shore.
Vasille had disappeared. Whether he was supposed to be participating or not, Arun did not fully know. But Vasille didn’t need speed dating. Vasille knew exactly what he was doing when it came to the opposite sex. He’d tried to teach his brother, but had failed miserably. But of course, Vasille wasn’t cut out to be a teacher, either. He and Amelia were probably tucked into some corner to eagerly watch Arun, like he was some kind of pet or experiment. They often made fun of him at no expense to themselves, though Arun still loved them dearly. He tried never to take them seriously.
Still, as nervous and awkward as Arun could be, he made it across the floor to the table marked ‘7’ (in writing that would have belonged nicely in any Bachelorette episode) with the kind of grace that an overly timid wolf might possess. Timid wolves do not stumble or cringe. They remain ever wary. They normally bare their teeth, too, though Arun kept that particular antic to a minimum (meaning, he did not growl at anyone. That would not be becoming at all).
When he sat at the table, however, it was obvious he wasn’t a manspreader or an alpha male. His hands immediately disappeared between his knees, shoulders hunched, ready to sit there until the bell chimed again and he could move on. With each second that passed, the closer the evening would come to an end.
At first he wondered if he was going to be stood up. Would have been just his luck, honestly, that there’d be a missing girl and it would the girl he was supposed to talk to first. However, no sooner had the thought entered his head that a redhead sat down across from him. She was dressed to kill with a smile to finish him off – but wouldn’t any man be happy for that smile to be the last thing they see?
Perhaps best not to be thinking about death when they were supposed to be thinking about potentials for love, right?
”Hello,” he said, though it sounded like there was a frog stuck in his throat. He cleared it, then smiled nervously, before trying again. ”Hello,” he said, releasing his hands from between his knees and holding out one for the other to shake. ”Arun Dumitrescu,” he said. ”Have you ever been to one of these before…?” he asked. He’d had no time to prepare. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, nor the question they were supposed to ask. Or did they expect them all to be ‘natural’?
What a laugh.
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 07 Nov 2017, 03:03
by Karma
From where she sat, Karma was able to keep her eye on the redhead and the man that had sat at her table. So far, little had actually happened beyond a simple greeting. Innocent enough. Even so, her clutch was on the table, and her hand was wrist deep in the leather bag, fingers wrapped tightly around the can of mace that would, in this town, likely piss the man off more than actually do any good at repelling him.
She kept trying to tell Freyja she needed a gun. That she would be much less of a target if she had the means to defend herself, but the ******* Viking was just too overbearing to let her have her own piece. Afraid a cop would stop her and find it, be able to link it back to her. The whole idea was ridiculous. She wouldn’t shoot anyone with it. Not anyone that she’d get in trouble with the cops for shooting, anyway. She just wanted to protect herself. At least she had the beauty’s protection, even if she wasn’t always with her, it seemed that every time any one of her thralls found themselves in any sort of trouble, the vampire was just… there.
Still, Karma would feel a lot better with her own gun.
One night, she’d convince Freyja to let her have one just for herself. She wasn’t some gangbanger hood rat. She’d be responsible with a gun. She made a sound in her throat and rapped her nails against the table as she glanced away from her friend’s table to pull her other hand from her bag to check her watch. The woman seemed safe, anyway. It was just after 8, the event actually starting on time, which came as a bit of a surprise, as these things always seemed to have some sort of delay at their start that got them going like a half hour late or so, so it made her feel all the more ridiculous to be sitting there alone, until she felt a light tap on her shoulder, even as she was tugging at the short hem of her dress, pulling it down her thigh as she turned to see a short, red haired girl leaned across the back of her seat to gather the Latina’s attention.
“Hey! I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I really like your dress. Where did you get something like that?”
Freyja was late, and the redhead was cute. Cute, though, was about as far as Karma would go with her. The Latina was particular about the women she went with, and this girl just wasn’t up to par. Not to say that she wasn’t pretty, because she was, she was just… average in almost every other way, all the way down to the clothes that she wore. Just looking at her, Karma had a cruel barb resting on the tip of her tongue, ready to latch into the poor thing’s feelings and rip a good hole in her ego.
Oh, honey, you couldn’t pull this off. You could barely fit into this.
If she had been her sister, she would have ripped into the poor girl, and likely would have just blatantly called her a fatass and gone back to waiting on her master. Instead, she gave the girl an understanding and longsuffering smile, and shook her head. “This old thing? It was a gift,” and it had been. Freyja had gotten her this dress, just for tonight. “I think my friend picked it up at Ralph Lauren. Maybe Eileen Fisher. I’m just really not sure, I’m sorry.” She gave the redhead an apologetic smile, even though the girl didn’t’ seem phased. She was clearly more pressed with striking up conversation than she was actually obtaining the dress. All the while, the scrawny blonde across the table from her glared death at Karma, and as much as she tried to ignore the boyish girl’s intense stare, she could almost feel the heat of her loathing in the glare that she focused on her with a laser precision. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this, had she? She had only escorted her friend here, as she had been charged with, so why was she suddenly the target of not one, but two peoples’ attention?
The scrawny girl’s mop of blonde hair hung in her eyes, but not enough to hide the death-glare of her pale blue eyes. The shadow of those straw-colored bangs mixed with the abundant speckling of her prominent freckles only made the pale color of her stare all the more harrowing. The Latina squirmed in her seat at the girl’s stare, wishing more than anything that the redhead would turn around and pay attention to her date, before she became some psychopath’s next victim. Instead, the girl had begun twittering in her ear about how she had spent the day shopping around the Outlet Mall for her outfit, like Karma was absolutely clueless. The girl was wearing vintage Wal-Mart that she probably dug out of a bin at a Goodwill across the border.
Nothing against Goodwill, honestly, if you asked Karma. But if you’re going to wear it, wear it with pride, and be honest. The true issue was trying to pass Wal-Mart hand-me-downs as in-season designer fashion. The girl must have been more stupid than she looked. Honestly, the more she spoke, the more of a big dumb sow she seemed to be. Karma flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulder and offered the girl a smile. “Why don’t you ask your date about her getup? I like the… jeans.” The redhead rolled her eyes and leaned across the back of her seat. “Please. This chick screams farmer’s daughter meets red light whore meets tomboy chic. Not even close to my type, if you get what I mean.”
Karma was about to pinch at the bridge of her nose, to pinch her own wrist, to bite into her palm with her nails, anything to reel in her agitation when the front door burst open with a startling sound, her Mistress sweeping into the café with all of the pomp and circumstance of a woman of her position. She was saved.
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 07 Nov 2017, 03:04
by Freyja
Checking her watch, the Amazonian blonde bombshell was appeased, knowing that she was arriving on her own time. No matter the event, she almost never let anyone decide her schedule but herself. She was a woman worth millions. Her time was valuable, and she didn’t let anyone dictate when she should be where, but her. She’d scoffed at the event flier, too. Must arrive before 8? Please. She glanced at the slender, jeweled band at her wrist, the small face of the ornate watch gilded in white gold and glittering diamonds. It was already 8:15, and she’d only just arrived outside. She was sure the girls had walked, poor dears. Her Porsche was parked around the corner. She would suggest Karma not be such an idiot, but, well… that was a part of the girl’s charm. She wasn’t so sure she’d be very likable if she were smart. Her sister, Karla, was enough wit for the two of them.
Her free hand drummed idly against her abdomen, the thick fabric of her jacket gliding against her skin, the feeling so soft and warm it made her shiver in pleasure. She was wound in a tight coil, and she was ready to explode on the first thing that stumbled across her, be it an attractive woman or some poor paladin. Hell, tonight, she’d take almost any excuse for either sex or violence. She just couldn’t bring herself to care, she just needed something to let off some of this steam she’d built up all week at work. God help whatever was on the receiving end, because it wasn’t going to end well for whoever her victim might be, no matter the course of the evening.
A loud huff left pursed lips, blowing a long, curly lock of gold from her face, where it landed to frame her cheek. She’d waited long enough. She lifted a hand and shoved the door open with a flourish, her hand lifting and sweeping the long wool jacket from her shoulders and whipping it around in a twirl of dark fabric, wrapping it over her forearm as the hostess nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden sound of the door being shoved open with such violence. Without so much as a glance, Freyja tossed her jacket into the woman’s arms, her head held high in the air, nose turned up at the staff as she turned away from her and glanced to where her empty seat waited for her.
As she started away, without so much as a glance over her shoulder, the tall, statuesque Dane called back to the woman holding her coat, “Take care of that coat, will you? See that it’s properly put away, it’s worth more than you’ll make all week, dear.” Behind her, the woman held the coat and watched the tall Scandinavian move through the café like a predator on the prowl, her eyes locked on her prey as she moved with a singular purpose. The hostess almost envied the Latina woman that the lithe mountain of a woman eyed like her next meal, and rubbed at the heat of her face as she turned away to deal with the woman’s coat. She was obviously a woman of confidence and decisiveness, giving off the air of wealth and power, of confidence and strength that was unrivalled and undampened even by the glowers of envy and incredulity at the woman’s entitled attitude. The woman that Freyja hadn’t so much as noticed vanished with her expensive coat, and the tall blonde was confident that it would be cared for, without a single worry.
With a vulpine grace, the woman slid to the table that her thrall had chosen, a prime spot by the window, for an easy escape should they need to appear nonchalant, while also at an excellent vantage point to keep her eye on Caligrace and the man that she had been chanced to have matched with for the evening. As she approached, a fair brow rose as her icy eyes moved between the woman in her employ and a stranger that had taken it upon herself to strike up conversation from another table. The redhead was… average, at best. A pretty face and a gorgeous smile were the only attributes that were particularly remarkable, aside from the fiery mane of lustrous hair, her build was soft and plump, more pear-shaped than the Latina’s hourglass. She could do better, surely. The slender blonde stepped astride of her seat and leaned down to place a palm on her own table, her height towering well above the seated women.
“Why don’t you attend to your own date, dear? Before the two of you spend the rest of the evening trying to pick your bloody teeth out of the carpet, hm?” The dull brown eyes went wide with fear at the insinuation of violence, the poor girl clearly the furthest thing from a fighter, abandoning her conversation with the Latin bombshell for the scrawny straw-haired woman with the teeth too big for her mouth that she had been paired with. Freyja doubted that the stranger would give her, or Karma, much trouble after that. Besides that, the girl across the table from the redhead was more her speed. Karma would likely have that poor thing spent in half an hour, and still have the energy for a full night of fun. She should try staying in her own lane.
The vampiress slowly lowered herself into her seat with an unparalleled elegance that exhibited an excellent control of her own body, her cold eyes falling on the thrall bringing a violent stutter to her heartbeat. She could literally hear the woman’s heart skip a beat. It brought a wry smirk to her lips as she leaned closer to her little slave, and gave a gentle kiss to the tanned skin of the back of her hand in greeting, before her eyes sought out her proudest accomplishment, her greatest mistake that had turned itself around with stellar results. Her violent outburst with Caligrace couldn’t have turned out any better than it already had. She was immensely proud of the little redhead, and thanked every star she could see that the woman didn’t hate her, or fear her.
“Well, at least she lucked into a cute one. I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble getting here, dear.”
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 20 Nov 2017, 03:14
by Caligrace
I can’t do this.
Pressing her hand through her hair, she settled back in her chair, slender legs crossing at the knee. The position caused her heel to slip from her foot, the blue dangling from a single toe. The movement was casual enough that she was able to play it off as purposeful, and as she swept her gaze across the man before her, she rested her hands on the table. It seemed as though she couldn’t sit still, manicured fingers tapping anxiously against the table’s surface. She was a businesswoman. She was supposed to be poised and calm – but she was a wreck.
Instead of allowing it to show in anything other than the slight fidgeting, she allowed a quiet, breathless laugh to escape her throat. The sound was sensual, her charm turned lethal. “Arun.” With a slow deliberation, she tested his name on her tongue, allowed it to roll over her tongue on an almost quiet purr. With her accent – which the French-Canadian was rather proud of – his name sounded divine. Slowly, her fingers began to stop their annoying tap-dance as her focus became solely on the sun-kissed stranger. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arun,” she chimed, once again toying with his name as she tilted her head, a lock of fire falling from its place behind her ear.
“I’m Caligrace, and no. I haven’t been to one of these… events. I was forced, if I’m being honest.” She was careful to keep her displeasure to a minimum. After all, it wasn’t his fault she felt as though she was being punished. He had been nothing but kind from the moment she had found her seat – though it had only been a few seconds. No, there was something almost… skittish… about him. He reminded her of a cornered animal, and though she found him utterly delicious to look at, there was a part of her that wanted to see what he had. If she were to push at him, taunt him like a madman would a caged wolf, would he roar?
Shaking the thought from her mind, she allowed the slightest of frowns to grace her lips before she managed to control the slipped expression. She knew the second the thought had formed that it had been amplified by the thousands of emotions hammering against her skull. Anger, lust, disappointment, despair and desperation clouded her mind until her own thoughts were plagued with the chaotic mixture. Fortunately for Arun, she had learned how to control it – at least for a small amount of time. Parting her lips, she was a second away from asking her own question, when she felt her.
She didn’t need to turn around to know that her sire had entered the building. No, the amplified emotions had alerted her of that. Instead of turning, however, she merely offered the man across from her that killer smile – and even allowed it to have the slightest taste of mischief. “And there, doll, is the reason I’m here. Though, I suppose I should thank her instead of plotting her demise. After all, I wouldn’t have met you, would I?” Leaning forward, then, she rested her palms against the table, her eyes scanning his features as she chuckled.
“I’m going to take a shot in the dark here, but this is your first time, too, isn’t it?”
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 08 Dec 2017, 11:45
by Arun (DELETED 9048)
Arun couldn’t help his nervousness, the way his eyes wandered only to come back to his ‘date’. He’d been so quick to find his seat he hadn’t paid much attention to the other tables, or who else was at them. Now, he noticed that numerous pairing were… well, all women. Was he in the wrong place? Had Vasili got it wrong? Was this just some huge joke? Or were the organisers just… super organised, able to coordinate which tables were for same sex couple and which weren’t? Or was it some kind of bi-sexual event in which case… what if Arun ended up with a man?! How would he break it to the guy that he wasn’t actually interested? Would he have to break it to him or could he bluff his way through?
The questions pounded at the front of the Gypsy’s mind until he had to force himself to focus, to look nowhere but at the woman in front of him -- and hope that she wasn’t confused to be sitting with him. He had to hope that she was not gay. She hadn’t looked confused. She hadn’t questioned a male’s presence across from her, so he had to relax a little. Later, he would devise some outlandish scheme to pay his brother back.
He’d looked away again when Caligrace mentioned the one responsible for the redhead’s presence at the event. It could only be the blonde who’d breezed into the room, turning all heads on her way through. She looked utterly terrifying and unlike anyone that Arun would ever associate with--nor did she look like someone who would willingly associate with him. And if Caligrace was friends with her…? Well, this was probably a huge waste of time, despite Caligrace’s … flirting? Was she flirting? ****, Arun thought. He couldn’t tell.
”I ah… too right. First time, forced too. I can’t even show you who’s responsible, I think he’s already left,” Arun said. Probably a good thing, too. And Vasili probably knew it. Whenever the two brothers went out together, women were always drawn to Vasili. He was charming, and it was easy for him. Arun never took it personally. He laughed, and figured there was no point in trying to hide his nervousness. His skin seemed to thrum with it, the tips of his fingers electric.
”I don’t know how they work, honestly. These events. We’re supposed to get to know each other in a very short amount of time and I think it’s kind of silly, to be honest. Getting to know someone takes… well, longer than a few minutes,” he prattled before forcing himself to take a deep breath. Stop talking, Arun, he schooled himself.
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 04 Feb 2018, 04:59
by Karma
The short Latina burst into a quiet fit of laughter as the plump redhead’s eyes nearly fell out of her sockets, her vampire mistress all but terrifying her into stone. The woman’s sudden change of interest was almost instantaneous, and, while a relief, was somewhat disappointing. Karma sought someone willing to fight for her, someone with a spine, not afraid to stand up to her mistress’s bluster.
That’s all it was, if you’d asked the Mexican woman, a lot of hot air and internal fury just leaking into the air. The Danish woman had been nothing but an absolute sweetheart since the day she’d met her. She sighed, and let the woman take her hand, the cool feel of the other’s lips on her hand unsettling in the extreme. She was still growing accustomed to the cool touch of the undead against her own warmth. She was used to the heat of the living, the fervor of a hot-blooded woman in her sights. This was… different.
Perhaps a welcome change?
She wasn’t sure.
She shook her head, flawless, straight hair of ebony drawing as much of the light from the air as possible, an air of darkness surrounding the Latina, giving her a sort of mystery about her, an air of unknown power over those weak enough to fall into her loosely spun web. She gently pulled her hand free from the woman across from her and offered her a gentle smile, canting her head toward the redhead that was the object of both their attentions, the silky curtain of her dark hair all but hiding her face.
“Thank you, mamacita. She was making me… uncomfortable.” The Latina shook her head as she pushed her fingers back through her long black hair, warm eyes moving to look into the icy blues that had been watching her quietly. She squirmed lightly in her seat beneath the stare as she lifted her hand away from the table to rub at the back of her neck as she offered a nervous smile, a twist of her plump lips as she lifted a shoulder. “You were late. I must look like easy prey.”
Re: At the Bell [INVITE]
Posted: 04 Feb 2018, 05:12
by Freyja
With a sort of scoff, the Dane let the woman draw her hand back, her cool gaze moving to her progeny and her apparent “date.” Her accent was thick on her tongue as her attention wandered from he woman across from her. “You are far from easy prey, Karma. Act like it. You could break that ***** in half. So don’t be a spineless mess on me, now.”
She smiled inwardly at the Latina’s recoil, at the shocked look on her face at the woman’s response. Before she could speak, Freyja lifted a hand, laying a slender digit across the woman’s plump lips, keeping her quiet. “Shh, Karma. Shh. I know you’re fierce. You have nothing to prove to me. You wouldn’t be alive today if you weren’t.”
The Latina swallowed back her fear and Freyja all but howled in maniacal laughter in her own mind. The woman was an absolute firecracker, but in the scrutiny of her master, her spine was little more than jelly. She was terrified of the master of her will, and rightly so. Neither of the sisters were of outstanding value. Their attractiveness would serve the vampire’s purpose for a time, but as their looks would inevitably begin to fade, so would their usefulness.
She wasn’t half as stupid as she looked, Freyja would give her that.
She sighed, and let her hand fall to idly trace shapes into the tanned skin of the Latin woman’s hand with her nail as she watched her childe exchange small talk with the male. She was far ore interested in their conversation than the thrall’s apparent discomfort. She squeezed the woman’s fingers in an idle expression of her support, and, as insincere as it might have been, she could feel the woman relax, at ease with the entirely hollow offer of protection.
Karma was but another tool in Freyja’s arsenal; the same as her sister.
Neither of them held any value to her. She had learned that lesson in as harsh a manner as possible. Thralls died. They were disposable. Making them anything else was a danger to herself that she couldn’t afford.
Finally, her eyes moved from the pair at the distant table to the woman across from her, reading her apparent lack of grace in the woman’s eyes. She sighed inwardly, before lifting the woman’s fingers for another gentle kiss.
“I apologize, Karma. I am just worried for my progeny’s wellbeing. You can understand, considering your sister. Please, tell me what you’ve been up to?”
