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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Playing House; ATTN: Leslie - 314 Princess Manor - Borough of Barnet | |||
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| Topic Started: Tuesday, 17. March 2015, 02:15 (995 Views) | |||
| Tsar Ilya the First | Tuesday, 17. March 2015, 02:15 Post #1 | ||
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Claiming Tsar
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Hey, I'll be at 314 Princess Manor later tonight. Code 5569. Find a map attached to this message. Please, let me know if you are not coming. Khoza.
The Manor was resting in the middle of its grounds, a huge park, organized in quite a traditional British way, making the massive building the one and only leading character of that vast expanse of land. Most visitors came by car, but a few walked the distance to get there. Those who didn't feel comfortable when being filmed should have to walk through the fields, trying to avoid the multiple cameras placed in the area. Nothing that any trained eye would have problems with, but still slightly inconvenient. On top of that there were guards, and dogs. At some level, it seemed more like a prison for the rich and the powerful than a place where people actually lived on their own will. Still, the feeling of luxury emanated from every tree, every rock, and every floodlight sweeping the grounds. At the main door, there was a large keypad, where visitors were supposed to punch the code of the apartment they wanted to go to. In this case, any visitor should punch the code 5569, and Khoza would get a call at home, and his reception screen would light up with the image captured by the entrance camera. All very modern, and very convenient. Once the door ritual was sorted out, our imaginary visitor should walk some long halls, getting to the East Wing of the massive building. If that visitor was susceptible to supernatural energies, or if they could somehow see beyond the Veil, the panorama would probably be quite scary, with the tortured spirits of the deranged and the insane roaming through the corridors and the halls of the Manor. Still, if the visitor's ectoplasmic sensitivity was the same as a brick's, they would quite probably feel a little bit too cold there, even with the central heating brimming with power. The corridors, halls, and staircases would lead this potential visitor to the door 314, a modern wooden security door with no decorations other than the number in a copper plaque. Either by rapping the door with their bare knuckles, or by pressing the button with a bell draw on it to the right of the door, the visitor would catch Khoza's attention, for the only noise inside the apartment was the soft sliding noise of Olga's bare feet against the floor, and the subtle tapping of Khoza's fingers in the screen of his tablet. Other than that, the apartment was immersed in an ocean of silence. Khoza would stand up, and open the door to this imaginary visitor and, assuming they were of a friendly nature, he would lead them inside. He would be wearing a dark tailored suit, with no tie. Olga would be kneeling on the floor, close to him, in her underwear, staring at a smartphone screen, where music videos with no volume where being played. He would gently offer the visitor to go upstairs, to the mezzanine, where they could sit beside the bannister, and contemplate the greatness of the reception room and, through the double glazing windows, the immensity of the Manor's grounds. Olga, on her part, would start off by staring at the visitor, trying to ascertain if it was a threat or not, and if she should feel jealous of their presence. Khoza would dismiss the ghoul with a single flick of his finger, unconsciously demonstrating a great deal of mind numbing power over that young girl. Khoza would look relaxed and composed. Friendly, but cold as a block of ice, and filled with death and unavoidable despair. If the visitor we've been talking all along was the one he was waiting for, and no other; if that imaginary visitor was not imaginary at all, but very real; if she was, effectively, the one that had been called there, Khoza would stare at the distant window and, with a wide, expansive gesture, and a smile that could cut a diamond in half, say: "Last time, we met in your world. I liked how it looked through your eyes. This is my world. Welcome. I am happy to have you here." |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||
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| Leslie | Thursday, 19. March 2015, 12:32 Post #2 | ||
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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With a wry smile she looked at the text and pondered whether this was such a good idea. Only once she had met Khoza and other interactions had been through the Anarch unnamed network. A knot of nerves was entangled inside of her and wrapping her heart in anxiety. She still wasn't sure what Khoza was and how to handle him. However something felt right and familiar with him as if she could trust him. Though the past had learned her more than once that trust is a dangerous concept to commit to. For the evening Leslie had dressed up nicely. Demurely even. A simple black dress with black stockings and ankle boots which only had an inch high heel. Her dark brow hair was flowing over loosely over her shoulders like velvet. Her chocolate brown doe like eyes were calm, nearly dull even. No lights were dancing in them like the usual wild bouncing hyper flickerings they could possess. So much calmness and yet she seemed troubled. The young Gangrel stood at the main door. She was surprised to see all the guards and dogs around. It made her feel uncomfortable. What evil device of solitude and danger was she walking into? It made her question Khoza even more. Was he still that Malkavian she thought he was or was he something else? It was hard to get beyond that veil of stoic demeanour. With a tremble she carefully entered the code and she took a deep breath as courage before entering. There was still time to turn around and run for any damn hill she could find. A few shivers made her body shake uncontrollably. Mentally she scolded at herself for being such a scared cat. This was Khoza. A big strange and elusive man. Yes. She had every right to be scared actually. The door with 314 came in sight and loomed over her like a huge pillar of judgement. Was she really going to have a talk with a man who didn't even look at her and talked about some shadow of a dancing bear? That night she had adored his story telling voice and deep rooted serene tranquility but now she was petrified. In the woods she had had the upper hand. Here she was on his turf and at his mercy. Too long her finger hovered over the bell button but she did press it. The sound it made interrupted the silence that had been lingering behind the door. Leslie swallowed down all her nerves and stood as tall as she could when the door opened. The faint smile she had on her lips betrayed her true emotions though but with the small bit of bravery she still possessed she walked inside. First thing she noticed was a woman, clearly human, sitting on the floor like a slave in kneeled position. Her gaze flew through the room. It was majestic. So much fine and expensive detail through out the entire place it made Leslie feel humble and underdressed. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Her shoulders went down and she tucked her hair behind her ears. While impressed by what she saw she mindlessly followed Khoza upstairs to the mezzanine. His voice calm like a rolling thunder that forced her awake. Cold and distant but kind in what he said. Her own voice was a weak trembling sound that didn't carry that same strength as his. "Thank you. I'm glad you invited me." even though she had no idea anymore what she was doing here or even why. |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Friday, 10. April 2015, 15:12 Post #3 | ||
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Claiming Tsar
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For a long time, Khoza stared at her, without engaging in direct eye contact, just appreciating her attire and her poise. He was smiling. It was an odd gesture in his face, like a grin chiselled in an otherwise dead stony sculpture, but a smile nevertheless. "You told me you were having some troubles lately. Is there anything I can do for you? I don't like seeing you suffering, if it can be helped." He reached for his back pocket, as if he was going to pull off his wallet and give her money for no apparent reason. But he pulled off a folded paper. He unfolded it and placed it on his lap. It was a map. Directly printed from Google Maps. The Borough of Enfield. He had drawn some green, blue, and red marker lines along the borders, delimiting the frontiers with other areas; Red for the East border, Blue for the South and West, and Green for the North. "I've been told that you have been pretty active all along Enfield lately. Anything you want to tell me, or is it personal business? I still have my places around the Edmonton area, close to this line, in the South. Those are part of my private business. I'm telling you this to let you understand that I don't mean to pry; if you want privacy I can respect that. I've been escaping surveillance for so many decades, running away from a certain death, that doing all I can to gather all the information possible is a second nature to me. Believe me: no matter how much I learn about the people in the North, I do respect my peers' privacy. Now you know of one of my hideouts. Nobody in London knows about this place, in fact. So, with that being clarified... Care to share your course of action? Maybe I can be helpful." The man never blinked. It was eeire.. There was a total disconnection between his jaw and his brow. No communication whatsoever inside his own face. The words made sense, even the tone was somehow coherent... but the few micro gestures Leslie could catch were telling several different unrelated stories at the same time. Obviously, Khoza was better at communicating his ideas via message than face to face. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||
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| Leslie | Tuesday, 14. April 2015, 09:25 Post #4 | ||
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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Stare. A never ending stare that consumed her. His eyes were like bright head lights shining down on her and she was the deer caught in it waiting for the crash to come. Her own eyes widened. Big chocolate brown stars watching him and she unknowingly took a step back trying to create some well needed distance. Then he spoke and my gosh did she want him not to stop speaking. His staring was rather disturbing. First he never looked at her and now he had nearly frozen her to the bone with his stare. She looked at the map and back up to him when he spoke some more. The table turned and now she wanted him to stop talking. Had he appointed someone to follow her around? She frowned and tilted her head to the side nervously and back to the other side. Her eyes looking around the place while she collected her demeanour and pondered what to say. Leslie turned to face him again. "How do you know that?" Instead of sounding accusing she sounded surprised if not a bit scared as well. She was indeed in his private domain so she could either tell white lies and cause distrust between them or be honest and create a link or some sort of respectful friendship with him. Her voice came like a unsteady whisper but grew in strength the more she said. "I will keep this place secret. And yes. I have been active and that has been troubling me. I am used to live among the humans but with recent events in London I decided to make my place and my influence steadier. So many come and go and I feel like the only one that I can always count is on myself. So I have been searching pressure points. Humans seem to have more darkness than we do at times and I twisted that to my own hand. However for one pillar in the Enfield society I had to wriggle my way into a community of people who already have little in life." Her body was slightly trembling and she turned away from him and whispered. "I'm a monster deep down and I can't balance that too well it seems." she wrapped her arms around herself and sighed sadly. All the memories coming back to her from when she had visited the food bank and had heard all the stories of the humans who found themselves in difficult and delicate situations in life. This was awkward. A man with barely any visible emotions with a girl who sometimes had too many emotions. It would sure be an interesting talk and evening. |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Wednesday, 15. April 2015, 14:46 Post #5 | ||
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Claiming Tsar
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He looked away, to the distance, through the window, pondering her words. He pulled his phone out of his jacket's pocket, and flickered through some options. He found what he was looking for. He turned the phone around, showing the screen to Leslie. There was a pixelated, black and white image of a random street of Enfield. It had a time stamp at the bottom. Leslie realized that the image was a real time capture of that street. "Cameras. London is filled with cameras. I have been hoarding control of many of them in the North. And wherever I couldn't get the real street cameras, I have made arrangements to install cameras in places that give me the right perspective. It is not as if I had all of the North covered. I don't even have 5% of the Domain under my supervision, but I have some key places under surveillance. I spend quite a lot of time every night just randomly flicking through the cameras, looking for things that catch my attention. Then I started seeing you, more and more, in different spots, and I found it interesting. Not that I had a clear idea of what you were doing, but I could see you were busy. Having this tools at our disposal is, as you might understand, priceless. I am trying to be as respectful as possible with other residents' privacy, but it's hard to keep my information sources updated without a bit of intrusion, as you will understand. I am sharing this with you now, so you are on the loop. Not many people know about this, in fact, so please be discrete." She went on, explaining her recent actions, and the feelings she had developed towards the world of the flesh machines. "That word... I've heard it before... Monsters. That's what they assume we are. Isn't it interesting? They have enough free will to determine that we are monsters, but not enough to escape their own darkness. We perform acts that would be damnable by their ethics and their laws, every single night of our existence, and yet, their darkness surpasses ours by a long shot. I've recently witnessed acts that would make you want to destroy them all, should you have the chance. But we don't do that. We are not petty. We don't seek revenge against them or even try to reason with them. Monsters... The irony is tremendous. I think it is all rooted in the ability to wish and desire. We, as our nature dictates, only desire one thing: blood. The rest... it is all more elevated, not that primal. We seek each other's company -as we do now-, out of a very elevated and civilized impulse. We create art, and build empires, out of those elevated impulses. But them? They are distracted by many things. Food. Sex. Sleep. Petty ambitions. Self perception problems... They run blindly through life, convinced of their free will, unaware of how their reptile brain is dictating the rules for them, of the genetic and educational programming that pushes them in one or the other direction. If we are dark, it is generally because we end up choosing to be dark. They are dark because that is their nature. Monsters... I like more the word: Alien. It fits better our nature." He was staring through the large window in the lower floor, his arm resting in the bannister of the mezzanine, deeply immersed in the ideas that they were sharing at that point. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||
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| Leslie | Friday, 24. April 2015, 11:20 Post #6 | ||
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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After a few moments of digging her fingertips in her own ams and having her eyes closed to find that center of calmness again she sighed and turned to face Khoza again. His words were too many and while she could usually follow what he explained in the Unnamed Network she found it face to face a lot harder to comprehend him. Luckily he spoke calm but she was unstable in her moment of being herself and that made it difficult to concentrate. There was also that constant fear she had about him. He was hard to pinpoint. This place looked Ventrue but he sometimes conversed like a Malkavian. The first time they had met he recited something about a shadow and a bear he has danced with. Stories were in her blood as she was Gangrel but that had been an awkward moment. And yet... She sighed as she stared at the screen that showed a camera angle of one of London's streets... yet he also made a lot of sense and did she trust him. The man that stood completely the opposite from her in how he spoke, moved, acted and thought but on done ways they were the same. They searched for the same. Something they could believe in and live in peace with the nights. "Guess it's true when they say Big Brother is always watching. So to our disposal or only yours?" she asked because that was indeed a priceless possession. The Gangrel blinked a few times still trying to regain a decent composure and confused about why he had offered a talk with her when he wasn't exactly comforting her. Or was? Maybe in his own weird Malkavian way. At least she still expected him to be one. "Then I'm an alien among the aliens. There are things you summed up that I still like as well. Besides they are our food and we need them, some obsess about them. I still have sex. Even with them because I like their warmth. And we all sleep when the sun forces us to. We try to build empires and that is our ambition. Why else have you created the Network? Why else have I been running through Enfield to find influence angles that will make me priceless? And why else have you called for me? We are still very much like them but different. In some ways better in other ways worse." The Flemish young looking girl sounded stronger than how she was really feeling but it was important to her he knew she possessed a fire that could burn him. She had been on too many strings that weren't in her hands too many times before. It was about working with someone and not for someone this time. She walked over to him and forced her body to warm up so a warm hand got placed upon his chin. There was not enough force to make him look down at her and in her eyes but there was enough intention to give him that chance. "Look at me Khoza. Really look at me. Trust me. I'm from the animals I can not get in your mind but show me the way to your mind. What are you? Who are you? Do you come from the moon? You confuse me greatly but I trust you so why don't you do the same for me?" Her voice was a quick whisper that caressed his ears like the touch of a feather. Soft, smooth and hopefully soothing. |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Tuesday, 14. July 2015, 01:51 Post #7 | ||
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Claiming Tsar
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The girl knew was she was talking about. The old adagio... Freedom versus responsibility; community versus privacy; sharing versus retaining... Another man would have chuckled, maybe amused by her incisiveness, or just deprecating her advance, but not Ilya. The issue at hand was serious enough to consider it heavily, and she had her right to be concerned. He made a gesture, referencing his phone. "I am showing you this for a reason. I am not opening the eyes of the world for anyone to peek through them, but I think it's better if you know that such a tool is at your reach... through me." There was not the shadow of a smile on his face, as he spoke. Nothing cracked that cold mask. Then she did something unexpected. She touched him. And she pushed him to stare at her. Caught off guard, his body just followed the natural impulse, and moved with the hand, putting his eyes in front of hers. Ilya's eyes were cold, rigid, dry marbles. The withered organs of a dead body, kept alive too long by unholy means. The eyes of a Beast trapped behind a glass wall, punching endlessly to get out. The eye contact opened a gate. He felt his soul pouring out, emptying in her eyes. Armies of mindless soldiers, wounded and corrupted, rotten bodies in torn uniforms, marching through the air, from the black pits of his eyes, to hers. The sword was out, and she was stepping forward gleefully, stabbing herself in the gut in the name of trust. He felt dizzy, sick, the world around him turning in unnatural and insidious angles. He felt the push of his violent monster urging him to take her tender and naive mind and turn any minimal chunk of resistance into resigned slavery, into the shaming wish to please those who hurt and humiliate you. He felt the call of instinct, the call of his inner animal, demanding him to crush her into a dehumanized husk, to erase any thread of her personality, and to replace it with submission and obedience. [DOMINATE: MESMERIZE] "You are going to... you are... you... Should never... Whenever you hear... You... STOP!" The inner struggle was too hard. His legs faltered, and his body gave up. He fell to his knees, his head pushed against the banister. The phone fell into the dense carpet, making a muffled sound. His gaze was lost. Not voluntarily averted, as per usual, but just lost, as if the mind pulling the strings had decided to stop pulling any string. His whole body seemed like a broken puppet, like a real corpse. However, there was something about him that made him look more alive and human than ever. There was a hint of a soul behind that dead face, a glimpse that she had never seen before. His voice came out of his mouth, first as a mumbling sound, and then as coherent words. "Mmmhum... You... The power is in... If you stare too long... That is their trick... The Elders force their gaze upon you... they make you feel that staring at them, even if it's in defiance, is something desirable... It takes courage to realize that looking like a coward is the brave thing to do. We are better. Don't stare. The eyes are weapons. The eyes destroy your soul, they defeat emperors and decimate kingdoms. Don't stare. I cannot... I cannot control the destruction that comes from them. I just can't. Do I trust you? If I didn't, I would have seeked your eyes sooner, and I would have made you feel -even think-, that you were really safe with me. I would have pressed that idea into your mind, and even shuffled your memories until it made sense. Do I trust you? I refuse eye contact with those I trust. I am not protecting myself... Now you know. You know my secret. You think you can trust me now?" He was exhausted, as if he had made a terrible effort to stop himself from messing with her head. After a while, his words seemed more under control, but his body was still broken, allowing gravity to dictate the position of every limb and every muscle. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||
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| Leslie | Monday, 20. July 2015, 22:00 Post #8 | ||
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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Through him... of course through him. He would be a fool if he let her acess it for free. Besides this man had many secrets and she was sure many would come out of hiding if she had unlimited access to this tool. It was almost scary how he had rooted himself into this Anarch world as swiftly and deeply as he had done. He had come out of nowhere as if he had fflown in on the wings of the wind. Still could she remember the first time they had met. How he behaved. His demanour so odd and yet so familiar and now again it was like that. Something cold that hid something she needed to find. The core within him was something she yearned for. What was it? Who was he? But most importantly who had he been? Watching. That was all she did when her warmed hand was still resting on his cheek. Her eyes were vivid and in contrast to what she saw in his. She had no idea what she was falling into. His eyes. So empty. So cracked but nothing was showing through those cracks. There was an abyss in the abyss and it took her unneeded breath away. She could not stop staring into those bottomless pits of darkness. It grabbed her heart, shook her bones and sprayed her with an icy glow. Nothing could have prepared her for this and when he spoke she blinked and pulled away from him. What was going on? She watched him with big eyes. Her hands were folded and held up against her chest while she rested her chin on her knuckles. For some reason all she could do was stare. What had she done? A hand reached out to him but she pulled it back. Her eyes flew around the place searching for that ghoul. Seeing her Domitor in this state might bring out an angry ghoul and Leslie already had enough to deal with. His words came unsteady and made no sense at first but when the did make sense she felt even more fear drown her emotions. Her trembling body refused to act wile her mind was spinning. Her mind? He wanted to be in her mind. Destroy it. Make it his slave with his eyes. Just like... like... a slow growl rumbled in the back of her throat. Ventrue!? Really? Quite possible. They could be crazy in their words as well and suspicious. When energy returned from the storm in her head to the rest of her body she kneeled next to him and sat down on her knees. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I trust you. I have been raised with different eyes. I now know your reasons and will respect them and you even more. You are Ventrue? Am I correct? If I am then I must admit your clan has done much wrong towards me. You are brave in looking like a coward. The ones I have met have forced their eyes upon me. In my mind. In many ways I can still feel those pokes even though the effect is dead now. It was terrible. Keep your eyes down if you must, I will raise mine for you and be by your side." His pain was different. His despair was different. The words had the same meaning as to anyone else but they had such a different context. The Gangrel came over because she needed a talk and now she was here doing the opposite of what she wanted. She was the one who wanted to be held and told it was all good in the end but instead she was the one doing the comforting. No matter how awkward it was. Leslie was a down to earth personality and still so young at her deepest parts. It was dark there but also bright. She was a walking contradiction and she loved it. Something she now wanted to share with Khoza: a reality of a person close to him without any strings attached. Two bodies against each other, literally supporting each other. |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Wednesday, 29. July 2015, 01:28 Post #9 | ||
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Claiming Tsar
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It was a strange surprise, feeling himself giving in to her embrace. This level of trust, of intimacy, was something that had not happened in years, maybe decades. It was awkward, bizarre, and it felt wrong. But at the same time he could sense the longing for warmth in his heart. Between the feelings of self despising, and internal mockery that those sensations awoke, there was something strangely real; something that transcended his usual inability to trust the veracity of his surroundings, and made it all feel suspiciously real. It was through her that he grew to appreciate, in a matter of seconds, that whatever was happening at that moment, was not some lie implanted in his mind, or some strange fantasy created by his twisted psyche to protect him from a greater evil: this was really happening. His right foot tapped softly on the floor, following a pattern of repeating five doublets, as words came out of his mouth in a rhythmic fashion. "What's in a name? That which we call a Rose, by any other name would be as cheap; so Ventrue would, were he not Ventrue call'd, retain that dreaded classism which he owes without that title. We'll forget that name, for that name is really no part of me; just trust myself. I don't box and label my friends in such a way; I trust their words, and trust their skills. I let them be whatever they are, and accept them without asking. Becoming my friend is not easy, but once there, that is a vinculum that just doesn't break. Whatever you hear of me in the future, trust the man you have in front of you now. My actions are generally bold, impulsive, and borderline reckless, but I somehow manage to give the appearance of cold calculated precision. Those who forced their eyes upon you are the real enemy. Always. Our brothers and sisters who forgot in their cradles that they were meant to be family, and who instead displayed the claws of false ambition; moralizing parasites hiding behind weak excuses to save themselves from acknowledging that cowardice that you and I know so well. Weak, simple, and self deluded. It is hard not to be torn between destroying them and trying to teach them; the first mauls ours souls, while the second gives them weapons. Don't worry. We will build a wall so tall they will never find your gaze, and so soft you will be able to walk through, and to use it as a coat whenever you feel at risk." In a strangely child like manner, he crawled deeper, curling in a ball, his eyes lost in the void, in a position that was nearly foetal. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||
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| Leslie | Saturday, 15. August 2015, 22:05 Post #10 | ||
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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The moment she was in seemed endless. It was expanding with her locked in the middle while she held Khoza in her embracing arms. The thoughts in her mind came to a stop while she wanted to ponder what she was doing and what was going on. Instead her mind let all the thoughts leak out and left her with nothing at all except for a darkness that felt strangely warm. One hand caressed his arm in slow soft motions. A touching gesture she was barely aware of doing so. Her eyes closed the moment the tapping of his foot started. It was a rhythmic echo wrapping around her mind and coating her senses with a dull tune which made her drowsy nearly. It were his words that slowly poked through the Gangrel's mind which caused a void to open up and suck all the thoughts, memories and moments of times back in her brain. She blinked a few times when she heard his poetic words, stolen from greatness and transformed to the darkness. Trust. It was such a difficult word to comprehend. Something they both knew and both tried to adapt to the current situation. She listened carefully and hummed so silently it was like a distant breeze that was not in their reality. However her humming stopped once the word Vinculum hurt her ears. The slow movements she had been making stopped. She held him tight. Her arms squeezed around him like a snake until she sat still. A dead, pale statue. Her warmth from earlier disappeared as she lost focus on her blood. The pretence of humanity was gone. His words cut through her heart. He spoke words that brought back memories but gave her promises of care she hadn't received in ages. The Flemish one could feel him closer against her. His movements snapped her back out of that freezing moment. She wanted to ask him so much. Things she had noticed before. Words and ways of speech that had raised question marks. But how to as those question marks? It would reveal herself in a way that was not safe to her. Her words were again whispers. It was as if the volume of her voice was set to low. "You talk with wisdom but with mystery. I feel something in you that is too familiar. It is scary and yet so wonderful... I... I don't want to let you go..." she rocked him in her arms. Her legs wrapped around him as well to keep him in a protective grip. "I think I need you and maybe, just maybe, you need me. We bumped against each other for a reason. Promise me the same. When things about me don't make sense then think about this moment and believe this is the real me." she kissed the top of his head and held him close. Her mind was seeking for that blank pause from earlier again. |
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Friday, 11. September 2015, 13:03 Post #11 | ||
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Claiming Tsar
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He was so lost in this newfound world of warm comfort that he nearly missed her kiss in his head. It had taken him a strangely long time to have this sort of childish regression; so humbling, so shaming, so welcome. The adult inside him, the one pushing him to be that severe, rigid, unforgiving and cold man, he was sleeping, far away from there. That layer was gone. Yuri was somewhere else, plotting, planning. Instead, here was Ilya. And with Ilya came some memories. Somehow, the images of his own lost humanity came to him en masse, breaking that wall he had built so long ago. The faces of his old family; his wife, his kids... his kids and great grand kids... He had watched them from the distance, back then, ensuring they were safe. Because anybody with the surname Senkin could only ambition safety, in this world. There was little more for them than that. Safety and lies. He felt this sudden urge to travel to Russia, to go see his family... but it was madness. Going there would involve meeting again with his sire, and he was not going to endure his presence. The wall of his adult self, torn down in pieces around him, seemed like a sensible measure; a valve to keep everything in place, and to avoid running wildly from one place to another, prey to his own misguided emotions. Trust. Such a valuable, fragile, and precious gem to have. The trust that had been shattered over and over again, and the trust that had endured torture and deprivation. The trust that had forgiven frailty, and punished weakness. Trust had taken him on a decades long trip that never seemed to be getting closer to an end. The contraposition of the ideas of trust and immortality created a unique figure, an oxymoronic prism that made the whole world feel stranger than ever. "It's a deal. We stopped evolving time ago. All that we have left is the masks we put on our faces to play different parts of this charade. I will trust this one in front of me now, and you will trust the one you see at this point. It's a matter of faith, and faith doesn't exist when there is certainty. So let our let our uncertainty become faith, and our faith translate in trust. I know both of us will need it to get by the times to come." His eyes were closed as he said those words, but his face was turned towards her. His skin was, for once, relaxed. Something infantile seemed to emanate from him at this point. Something few people had ever seen. "It's late. I need to work. You can stay, if you want. I've got plenty of spare rooms here." He said that, but he didn't move. His words and his body were giving her contradictory messages. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||
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| Leslie | Sunday, 20. September 2015, 00:55 Post #12 | ||
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Flemish... furry... flirty... feline! (YODO) Perfection Purrs!
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In the depths of her mind everything changed. In the depths of her darkness there was always a glimmer of light flickering as her beacon that she was never really dead, never really cold. This man in her arms surely had that same feeling somewhere inside of him. A memory. A picture. A feeling. A smell. Anything to remind him he was not a dead case lost in the darkness. No. He was a man she was holding because for some bizarre reason universe had decided they needed to meet and connect. How odd the world could be even when you were a vampire. The young Flemish girl was satisfied in this. Strangely so. To her it felt like a genuine thing and there was nothing as pure and pristine as two people showing their true colour in the trust they were sharing. With a sad sigh she listened to him and stated humming softly. His words were as always frosted and rehearsed as if he would never say something out of the blue. It all seemed to have been programmed. His composure was contradicting everything he said. Silently her humming increased together with her rocking motions as if she was cradling him like baby. If he wanted to leave he could. Her grip on him with her arms and legs wasn't that tight. It was light and caring. Loving and warm. All to show him there was more to the night than what he probably knew. Suddenly she started to recite a poem in Dutch. It was about the night and even though he didn't understand she still wanted to share it. "Deze nacht, Stond ik op wacht Ik keek naar de volle maan, Maar zag niemand staan. Dan probeerde ik de sterren te tellen. Maar hoeveel er waren kan ik aan niemand vertellen! Daarna probeerde ik nog even van de duisternis te genieten, Maar te laat... de eerst zonnestraaltjes kwamen al aan de horizon piepen. Nu ga ik vlug slapen! Dat ik bij zonsondergang weer kan ontwaken, En terug genieten van een prachtige nacht... slapen jullie maar zacht." With a smile she caressed his arms and kissed the top of his head when she had finished. Soon one of them needed to get up and face the world again. Soon they had to find rest for the day but Leslie didn't want this to end. The night was crawling to an end and she didn't had enough time to get to one of her safe places. Here she was safe and it was a sign of her open trust towards Khoza. If this backfired and she was dust tomorrow then she at least had this loving memory as her last. She was oddly at peace with all of that. |
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English Dutch French German Demon: Leslie's ghoul cat! IA Business
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1:15 AM Jul 11