![]()
|
|||||||||||||||
| 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: |
| Caught in the Shutters; Attn: Noel (Alexandra Park) | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Sunday, 10. May 2015, 03:08 (1,016 Views) | |
| Vivian | Sunday, 10. May 2015, 03:08 Post #1 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
May 1st was her birthday. Oh what a day that was. Everyone fawning over her and trying to make her feel good one day out of the year. It was nice. Just, nice. Her dad bought her a new jacket, which she was wearing. Her mother bought her a set of butterfly earrings, which she only planned to wear around her mother. Beth bought her a new cell phone case... yay? Oscar though, bought her a gift she was not expecting. A Samsung NX300 digital camera. It was solid black and apparently new. If it was used before, it was impossible to tell. It all stemmed from him becoming heavily unhappy with the way her drawing was coming along. More and more she was fiddling with darker themes. Scary creatures and faceless men. To him, she was not making herself feel better or using it as therapy. It was making her worse. Maybe it was. His plan was simple. She needed to just get out and take another look at life around her. Hence the pricey camera. It was one of those more pleasant London nights. The sky was only partly cloudy and through the cracks the stars that were not hindered by the lights of the city were twinkling high. She had been there most of the day at Alexandra Park. Most of the time she was taking pictures of people walking through. She was really experimenting with how to take better photographs from different angles as she invited herself to invite strangers into her world. A snap of the town over the treeline, a lone tree in the background, the palace dominating their small meaty bodies in the foreground. Those that noticed they were being filmed generally popped off. Two gentleman stopped and after a most friendly conversation did a few silly poses with the girl. An exchanging of numbers happened between Vivian and the med student. She had no desire to call him though. Now as mentioned. Night fell over the UK and Vivian still found herself at the park with the palace up on the hillside behind her. She was sitting on the back of a bench, feet on the seat as she alternated between experimenting with night shots with the flash, and lazy star gazing. Oscar did her a good one this time. She had no idea how he could afford such a toy, but it made it easier for the girl to smile. Her silver hair scattered across her new leather jacket, a black Kittie band shirt beneath. She wore a faded jean skirt over black tights. Old white and blue sneakers on her feet. Her complexion was slightly paler than normal, and she had used black eye shadow to try and mask the bags she had obtained from a recent spill of sleepless nights. Finished with her star gazing. She adjusted the settings on her camera some more. The battery was close to depletion, but she was intending to run this baby to the core before she'd consider leaving. Bringing the device up close to her eye, she became a little clumsy and took a snapshot. A click from her camera, a blinding flash and the digital device giving her an audible note her picture was taken. Was there something caught in the flash? |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Sunday, 10. May 2015, 16:46 Post #2 |
|
Order without Domination
|
Tonight Noël decided to go back to Alexandra Park. The shadows didn't let him lose and the moon was almost full so the lights would be just as he liked it. This time Pierre had brought him to the Park entrance, he didn't want to lose time. Wearing blue jeans and black leather boots, a bloodred turtleneck and a black jacket. His long blonde hair was tied in a ponytail with a black leatherband. A messengerbag at his side and a small backpack with the tripod in it and of course his cane. Not really taking notice of the Mortals striding the park, he wanted pictures of these magic shadows. A soft smile curved his lips when Noël inhaled the smells of spring, his eyes roaming the trees along the walks and of course the shadows. Looking up to the sky checking the moon over London, wonderful! The Toreador placing the backpack on the ground building up his tripod, fixing the head and his Canon EOS 7d. He checked the programming and adjusted it just a little. Trying hard not to look over to the spooky shadows in the moonlight. If he got enthralled he would miss the lights like they were just now. A first series of pictures would show if he had all the factors right. And fire! He pushed the remote release and the camera shot 2 seconds about 15 pictures a second. The clicking just started when a flashlight flared up. Merde alors! Noël blinked irritated, he hadn't put the flash at this intensity. Then he looked around, the flash came from behind him. Another photographer? His glacial eyes caught sight of a silhouette on a bench.. on THE bench... Since the light were just perfect, he just took a short look over the few pictures before the flash and he decided to shoot another series of 5 seconds. Some of them would be matching. The shape on the bench still itched his curiosity and he picked up the backpack and his cane with one hand, with the other he lifted the tripod and walked over to the bench. A girl obviously, soft whispers of her blood undulated around her. Noël smiled, maybe she would pay her interruption with her warm blood. First we need a little talk... Some steps from her the French stopped, putting down his tripod and addressing the bleachblonde girl with his heavy French accent. Good evening Miss, seems we 'ad the same idea tonight! His eyes glittered in the dim light when he looked over her and her camera. No tripod, most likely hobby-photographer then. |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Sunday, 10. May 2015, 20:19 Post #3 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
"Haha.. yeah.. guess that's bright.." She fussed at herself, tapping the familar button to look at the picture she just took. It was a little faded with how quickly she moved the device before her mishap. She could see a figure blue in the picture across the brightly lit grass and pathway of the park. Given the amount of people she had taken a picture of that day, it didn't even occur to her to address her involuntary target. Mostly because it was an accident and she was not in the most clear of minds. The whole day turned out pretty fun for her. She didn't have to fess up to every little blunder she made. As she was tinkering with the settings to delete the picture, as it's blurriness came off a little 'spooky'. The figure she was about to erase from existance in one sense was about to return from the realm of the rubbish bin. In reality, he still existed, standing near her. His approach did not stir her, his accent did. Her eyes popped open as she tilted her head up to spot a tall figure with long hair eyeing her. The 'spooky' visage from her mistaken capture. She gave a nervous smile. His accent was thick enough to give her pause in her pleasantries. Her camera was angled down, finger sliding across the button once more. It took a second to try and auto-focus at the dark bench it was viewing. As she was about to speak, a flash went off and the same click and beep came from her new toy. "Oh.. Hi! Yes... well.. this is my first time tinkering with it.. You can tell I'm not very handy with it yet." She brought the white item up to gaze at the screen. Yup. It was a bench alright. You could see every single indent in the wood. She had a nervous tilt in her voice, though it was still light with a notable London accent. Her face was now lit up as the small preview screen of the camera glowed, bouncing rays of light off her smooth face. "Hah.. yeah... that sure looks like wood.. not the best picture I took today! I-hope I didn't 'spook' ya with my snapshot. I didn't mean to take that photograph.. or this last one either... hah..." She shifted her legs, feet arched off the bench as she tried to come off friendly to the strange and handsome man. |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Sunday, 10. May 2015, 22:33 Post #4 |
|
Order without Domination
|
Now that he looked closer Noël noticed he was wrong on her hair, she wasn't bleachblonde but silvery... How nice... Moonlight hair... Give her a smile, she's nervous... soothe her... A soft smile curved his lips and he nodded. Before she spoke another flashlight flared up. When she spoke finally, he could hear she was nervous and his smile went deeper. A starter, how cute. No worries Miss... we all started some day. He took a step closer trying to catch a look on the display of the girls camera. Her face was very pale in the white light of her small display. Remembering the last incident on this bench Noël decided to assure himself of the girl. [Auspex 2: Aura Perception] His perception flooded her form and first a kind of a halo built up, then filled with colours, bright colours... Mortal... Noël broke the stream, “bright” was all he wanted to know. More than her colours, her whispers intoxicated him, the soft song of her blood... “Hah.. yeah... that sure looks like wood.. not the best picture I took today!” Would you mind to show me? He sat down at her side, placing his backpack on the ground and the cane at his side leaning on the bench. Her blood whispered so sweet. Mon dieu contenance Noël! His iceblue eyes followed the lines of the unwanted wooden pattern on the display. In his mind the lines of the wood filled with the girls blood. Forcing the red liquid to follow the growth lines. The life traces of he wood merging with the life of the moonhaired woman... Noël blinked and looked up in the girls smooth face, his eyes with the strange mix of tenderness and cold fire. Never judge a picture too fast. Look at it, 'ear it's story. His deep voice carried the heavy French accent, wrapping it around her mind like a soft warm blanket. His slender hand moved over the display without touching it, of course. Underlining his words while the filigree silvertendrils twining his fingers chimed to eachothers. Look and listen... there are two stories in it. The first is the story of the wood, of the tree it once was when it still was alive... The lines telling you the tree 'ad good years and not so good. Then listen to the second story in the picture. The story of the bench. See the marks, the scratches. Maybe someone sat 'ere with 'is love, trying to write their names in the bench, or someone was 'ere, resting from a 'ard days work. His gaze lay on her, would she understand? Was she an artist at the threshold to discover a whole new world, or would she stay outside of it, just taking pictures? Whatever... the poetry of her blood rustled in his ears and he would love to see it, taste it, enjoy it and savour it! OOC
|
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Monday, 11. May 2015, 15:06 Post #5 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
There was comfort in him not scolding her like a lab student in secondary. She had to use a little ectra brain power to process what he was saying behind the very frenchy way he spoke. She did feel a calmness about him that didn't make her feel this was a bad scene at the park past dark. She let the man grow closer, him taking a seat by her legs that rested on the bench. She thought to slide off the back rest, yet with his height even sitting she felt more comfortable still where she was. As she handed him the camera. "Ah, sure. Yes. Take a look. I don't believe you'll smash it to bits... at least you better not... haha." With him taking the camera, she watched to see how well he held it. Was there a science to holding a camera? Silly thoughts! It's not hard. You point and click when the display is not fuzzy. Easy! Next picture! While she was momentarily distracted by how absolutely ludicris the length of his hair was, and how he got it to be so straight and perfect and pretty; he started to tell her a story about not the bench, but the picture of the bench. It struck her off balance mentally for a moment. She figured with his nice tripod, fat backpack, charming smile and silky hair he'd have some know-how of photography. Now, though. He was just some deeply passionate film nut. Like the people you see at the art galleries that stick their nose up at an oil canvas and try to discern EXACTLY why the artist put a small red pinch on the teddy bears blue overalls. "Umm..." To her, it was just a picture of a bench. The bench had a story.. but.. "Yeah... I can see what you're getting at.. but the story of THAT picture is I hit the button like a crazy person and the camera went off, taking a close and personal shot of some frayed wood." She reached over towards her camera, in his hands, and pressed her hand against the back of his that held the device up. Her thumb slipped over the control board and started... to... press... the.. next... boy his hand was chilly. Not cold in the dead of night chilly. But cool. Like, was it that cold out for him to feel cold? Perhaps he has a health condition. Vivi's thumb clicked away till it landed on a picture of two gentleman. One was bald and wearing a red Liverpool jersey, the other had short curly brown hair with a crooked nose and darling smile in a simple blue and white striped shirt. They were standing back to back in the green clearing with the town in the distance past the trees. The sun was still high up in the day at this point, giving plenty of illumination on the green grass and the two men with a unserious-serious look on their faces. Their hands were up, making a gun motion. They were your every day guys pretending to be Charlies Angels. "But this! This! See! This has a story. This is Jack, and that was Johann. They caught me sneaking pictures of them and called me out on it.. hehaheh.. they offered to do some poses so I can learn how to use my camera better. They had me gigglefitting a storm. That tells a story to me.. two grown dudes pretending to be femme fatales. Yeah? Much more interesting than a clutz shot of a bench, right?" Despite her rather nervous way of speaking, Vivian loved people, and being around them. They always offered a distraction from her problems. She just had a problem not putting that love for people into proper words. She lifted her gaze from the picture to give Noel her undivided attention, curios as to how he'd perceive the picture and the way she viewed the medium he obviously had more experience in. |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Monday, 11. May 2015, 19:43 Post #6 |
|
Order without Domination
|
The Toreador nodded slowly. His face was unmoved though he was disappointed to hear her words. No artist, just a picture-taker... Sad but true. Anyway her whisper was still calling him. He just had to keep in mind, he was asked not to leave a mess on the street. When the girl leaned in and even touched his hand, he felt a short urge to push her back, but he kept contenance. He blinked a bit irritated when she clicked on a photo of two Mortals in some ridiculous pose. Sunlight... this grass was soo green. He smelled it here sitting on this bench, but seeing it in plain sunlight... His glacial eyes sucked in this wonderful sunny green, so full of life! Even a piece of dayblue sky with white clouds. How long was it, he saw this the last time? Not on a photo... in real. His gaze was locked on the grass, almost like counting the stalks in the lawn. Something tedious right beside his ear pulled him back from the sunny lawn into the dim light on this bench. Noël blinked and looked into the girls pale face. Oh yes, the picture-taker... He showed a smile just as he practiced it so often. Slowly nodding still a bit drawn to this bright green, but he tried to keep his eyes away from the display. Focussing his iceblue gaze on the girls blackframed eyes. Yes sure, practicing is the most important and whatever brings you joy will lead you to 'igher levels. By the way, when taking pictures at night you 'ave to turn down the ISO on 100. Then you don't need the flashlight so bright. Still he couldn't leave the prior idea of the girls blood running along the lifelines of the wood. Would she agree to give him some of her life-carrier? Be patient, Noël! Oh, my manners, excuse me! My name is Noël, may I know yours too, please? He managed his smile even a little brighter when he asked her name. Even a certain spark gave his eyes a frosty glitter. |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Tuesday, 12. May 2015, 06:51 Post #7 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
It was interesting to see how much the man was lost in the picture she was showing him. He didn't laugh, but he had this look on his face with the faint lighting this part of the park had for her to see he enjoyed it. Perhaps he had a thing for boys. Johann was a rather cute boy. "Vivian. Nice to meet you.. ISO? What? Sorry.. I really only took it out of the box and started to play with it. It was a gift for my birthday, on the 1st. My boss figured if I took pictures of the real world I could stop being so lost in my dark one.. uhh.. not sure if it's working yet... but it's been nice to get outside over bumming around the flat all day." Her hands dipped between her legs, there rested a small bag where she pulled out a Lipton tea, Citrus flavor. Twisting off the top she quickly took a few sizable sips, head pulling back as she made a go at depleting the bottle. Despite the apparent urgency for the liquid to sate her thirst, she was not making ludicrous gulping noises. Her rate of ingesting the sweet liquid was rather quiet. Putting the cap on the now empty bottle, she slipped it back into her bag and smacked her lips with a light sigh of relief. "Sorry.. was thirsty. I was at this most of the day.. there are more pictures with those two if you wanna look. I also took some pictures of like... the city, the clouds-I caught a plane in one. It was flying into like, one of those nimbus clouds I think it's called. I also took a lot of pictures of other people.. I guess I was people watching today. Do you ever do that? Just.. forget about yourself and focus on everyone else? Y'know.. what sort of sad things they hide as they walk from day to day? I do.. sometimes.." Her tone seemed to focus a bit. Her gaze started on Noels then turned to look more towards the town lights popping up between the treeline across the grassy field. To her, this was not strange or abnormal conversation. This was the sort of things she talked with Beth all the time. These were the sorts of discussions her clients would have with her. It was all therapeutic. She needed this therapy. |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Tuesday, 12. May 2015, 11:46 Post #8 |
|
Order without Domination
|
Another friendly nod towards Vivian, when she gave him her name to know. Calm and a little amused he spoke to her. ISO is the measurement of the light sensitivity the lower the more sensitive. So for night you use 100 or deeper if possible. This is a nice camera for starters if you change ISO it adjusts everything to it automatically. You really should read the manual dear, it’s much more fun then. While speaking he observed her drinking, how her fair skin stretched tilting her head back. His eyes fixed on the point where her pulse softly pushed her swan white skin. Unwillingly he licked his lips. Yes… he was thirsty too. Noël blinked and the friendly smile installed back on his features, just his eyes were lit in another fire now. Still glacial but with a new predator spark added. What dark worlds are you getting lost in? Your boss seems to care a lot for you. My first camera I ‘ad from my mother. She ‘oped to pull me out of my dark worlds too. His smile turned into a mocking grin and the Toreador handed the camera back to the girl. Didn’t work though. I became a crime scene photographer. Wonderful dark worlds. Vivian told him about her people watching and Noël pondered on how to find out if she was clean food or not. Yes, I often observe people, but I take pictures more in detail, in my studio. I observe them to know they are 'ealthy. A photo shooting like I do them can be very exhausting. You would be a wonderful model, any addictions apart ice tea? Waiting for her answer with a hungry glitter in his eyes. The whisper of her blood sounded like a siren’s song in his ears. He turned his position a little bit more to her, leaning his elbow on the back rest and looking up to her, patient as a cat in front of a mouse’s nest. |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Wednesday, 13. May 2015, 00:20 Post #9 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
Her head nodded, almost like a bobble toy as she noted the helpful hints he was giving her. She declined to accept his invitation about the manual though. Reading instructions was no phone when you have a toy that is so hands on. She'd learn about the ISO eventually, she feels. His advice was just a boost to getting there faster. The booklet on the other hand.. it was only good at stiffling the fun. As he inquired about her darker worlds, her facial features deepened. This was not why she came out to the park so far away from home to do. This was to be her escape. Another therapy self administered to scare away the haunting images of the Raggedy Man and the trouble he wrought in her dreams. Her eyes fluttered as she bit her lower lip, mulling over his words. She remained silent as he would seem to skip past her answer and continue to drive her into sharing. Crime Scene Photography? I want to help people, not look at them suffer, or having suffered. Then her whole world shifted. This certainly was not the kind of direction she expected the flow of chatter to drive towards. Was he a sleazy Frenchman? Did he want her to get naked on a white cotton blanket and submit to erotic poses? Was he wanting to test her interests in showing off her ass in some frilly lingerie? No thank you buddy! If Oscar heard him say that, even without context to what Noel was seeking in his inquiry, he'd snap the Frenchie into halves. Vivian laughed. Her hand patting the blonde on the shoulder. Her voice was friendly, if not noting a bit of defensiveness in her reply. "I'm addicted to work, and people. Yes.. those two things.. Oscar, my boss. He's protective of me. Taught me to fight, too. I don't want to talk about my nightmares, I'm trying to run from them. This is the newest trip. A tonic with a different color, a different flavor.. so.. yeah.. not really wanting to snip snap dead bodies or blood trails.. not really a model either. Do I look like I am?" She pulled her hands back and fluffed her leather jacket. It was keeping her warm as the night was ticking past. She was eager to start putting nice little stitchings on it. Oh yes. Her style. If she ever were to 'model' she felt she'd be one of those (Potentially NSFW) Suicide Girls. Yet again, she was not very keen on the idea, or flashing so much flesh to a stranger. |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Thursday, 21. May 2015, 19:21 Post #10 |
|
Order without Domination
|
She touched him again. Strange enough she touched him already twice while she pulled back from him with words. Addicted to work and people? Oscar, fight. Run from nightmares… Trip, colour, flavour, dead bodies, blood trails. Not really a model… If he wanted to taste her, he had to put in some effort it seemed. So he lowered his blue eyes coyly and gave his voice a poignant melodiousness. I’m sorry Vivian. I didn’t mean to poke bad feelings. I live with my nightmares so long, I tend to forget they aren’t normality… His French accent gave her name a slightly other rhythm, mellow and silken. Rubbing his forehead with his left hand and then turning his gaze back to her. A slight frown gave his eyes a sad shimmer. How many times he had trained this with Pierre? With my work I try to ‘elp to turn dead bodies and blood trails back into persons, you see? It’s a little step to give them back their dignity. Mon Dieu… as if they needed their dignity anymore once their blood was shed and their bodies smashed and desectrated… He observed her reaction to these words closely. If she was a helping soul this should work at least a little bit. Mortals were so much about dignity in everything. The Toreador got up and stepped behind his tripod, aiming the camera towards Vivian. Changing some parameters and adjusting the position of the tripod made her hair shine in the dim light. He let his ivory features light up in a bright smile and he nodded eagerly. Don’t overdo, Noël! I think you would be an excellent model! I like to work with people who don’t consider themselves as model. Much more natural then. With your silver ‘air and porcelain skin I would make you look like the goddess of the moon, wrapped in silver and bloodred… Yes... silver light and her own blood... He was sure the whispers would be delicate . Maybe he would remove the black make-up around her eyes. It would make here look even more lucid. A series of gentle clicks and her portrait was saved. Noël pulled his tablet out of his backpack and within a few moments the girls image appeared. The French sat on the bench again right next to her and showed it to her cheerfully. See 'ow you shine? I told you, you would be a wonderful model! Her scent and the silent whispers of her blood almost almost brought him out of his mind. Noël wasn't used to hold back his desires, but he had agreed to respect the rules of the London Anarchs. He forced himself not to look at her alluring neck. Contenance Noël! |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Saturday, 23. May 2015, 02:32 Post #11 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
She didn't think much about his comments about his nightmares. It was a fleeting statement. He already revealed himself to be a peddler of sorts, selling his words at a premium to gain her favor. Unfortunately for him, he was driving a hard sell to the wrong client. Politeness was what kept Vivian from packing her bag and taking a hike... as well as a sort of strange curiosity about the blonde. He spoke strange, and not because he was a frenchman. The way he chose his words didn't make her feel she was in any sort of harm. Just dealing with an eccentric photographer. "I disagree." She said flatly. The first offensive tone in her voice. She though of her father in the hospital. How he looked all bandaged up and in bed under the care of doctors after those people attacked him, and killed Richie. She didn't want to see people like that. Dead, or alive. Family or not. If anything, as Noel moved from her to take pictures of her, it snapped her out of the sad thoughts she was harvesting about blood and guts and pain. She offered a weak smile as the snaps caught her image. Come on Vivi. Be nice. She wondered how well... well.. that tablet was handy. What a neat little set up he had. She saw herself on the screen and even without the use of his flash, the camera he carried seemed to catch a fountain of detail. It must have been a very pricey piece of equipment he had. It was hard not to smile at his words.. if only he could read it in her eyes that her heart was not in such a field of dreams. "Noel.. these are lovely.. thank you... you have a real knack for this.. yeah.. I can see you put a lot of heart into the pictures you take, a lot of pride, and all that.. I just.." She paused and brought her attention away from the tablet. The illumination of the screen a bright glow upon their bench. She brought her hands up and brushed her fingers through her long silky hair. Fluffing it a few times before it would settle back around her neck and shoulders. If Noel was going to push this idea on her, he'd realize she had a very strict sense of the modeling world. "It's not where my interests are.. you know? I don't have this desire to be admired or fantasized about. No ambition to be one of those models all airbrushed on the cover of Cosmo or some rubbish like that. I..- just want to do right by folks, and help out others with their problems. It makes mine feel less invasive. Taking pictures is a nice little remedy.. being apart of them.. seems like a travesty." |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Wednesday, 27. May 2015, 09:55 Post #12 |
|
Order without Domination
|
“Remedy… travesty”... The girl ranted again about not being a model. Obviously she didn’t define “model” the same way he did. However, he wouldn’t get his food this way. What was it about these British girls? He got up again, still with a friendly smile. Turning off his tablet and putting it back in his backpack. To keep his mind calm he needed to change strategy. The easy way… He didn’t wish to hurt her, but she pushed his desire too far by now. Please let me check something on your camera… He reached out, waiting she handed him her camera again. Same time he lashed out his will on her. Making her feel trusting the blonde man, wanting to be close, getting his affection. Noël’s glacial eyes glittered, inhaling her scent, listening to the song of life in her veins. His slender hand caressing her silvery hair, seizing it and pulling back her head slowly, making her tilt until her neck was stretched like when she drunk her beverage before. His iceblue eyes soaked in the alabaster white of her skin, the soft pulsing of her vein beneath it. Enticing, tempting, irresistible… For a second his eyes widened, his will on hers but also fighting to fall enthralled. Bending without hurry, putting down the camera at her side and laying his other hand on her neck, feeling the beat of her life while his lips joined her delicate skin. His fangs unsealed the stream of her precious, warm fluid. Drinking in gentle sips, feasting it like an old cognac. Feeling the intoxication her life left in his system, the delight of pure tasty blood… He didn’t care for her moaning, her shivering. He was caught by the pleasures of her Vitae, all else was just a vessel. Finally he sated his hunger and closed her skin, making sure nothing would remain but some lustful shudders. Licking his lips Noël sat down at her side, his hand releasing her hair and letting his arm loosely around her shoulders. Smiling softly and in his eyes a blue fire flaring, cold as ever. Her blood gave him a wonderful warmth, whispering and blissful. He suppressed the urge to push her from him and just leave, Masquerade had to be kept. If she suspected anything, he would snap her neck. Edited by Noel de Gavrillac, Wednesday, 27. May 2015, 09:56.
|
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Thursday, 28. May 2015, 11:57 Post #13 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
"Oh... yeah.. go ahead.." She was skeptical and curious about what he had intended to do with her camera. She was disappointed her put the tablet away, she was eager to ask him if he could pop up her photos on it. A better view of the images before she got home would have been neat. It was to rude to ask him to do that though. Besides, maybe he was going to show her some other cool tricks! Instruction manuals suck, but friendly advice did not. Not to mention, he bought into her dislike of the modeling idea. Good. She didn't want to dismiss him crudely. She hated being mean to people, even if they were fuckers that deserved to have their cheerios peed on. As she brought her device up to offer it to Noel. she felt light headed. As if she moved far to quickly and all the blood slipin and sliding in in noggen rejected the swiftness of her movements. Her eyes fluttered and her perspective of the world around her change dramatically. Now as she looked at the frenchman, she realized how beautiful he really was. Almost elf like in terms of how magical his visage was. Aphrodite herself was toying at the strings of Vivians mind, manipulating her to believe the blonde man who desired her favor needed her attention. Everything changed. Like flipping the switch on the OPEN sign at the parlor from on to off. It was a clear difference. One you could not miss. Yet it was one you could not question. His hand reached for her hair and butterflies invaded her abdomen. A fluttery sensation she had not felt since her teen years when she thought she had a chance at a normal life. A hope for love. Now they were back, dancing as Noel petted her silky strands. There was no ache beneath her scalp as her head tugged back by his will. She was enthralled with his sudden romance. The dominant way he carried himself with his pretty eyes and handsome face. Those pouty lips were heavenly to observe. These feelings that rushed through her veins urged her to accept his kiss. Fluttery eyelids came with the orbs rolling back in the socket as her body tensed up with a sudden dull sensation that rabidly curled into euphoria. Her hands came up, grabbing at his arms to steady herself, falling into his kiss upon her pale neck. Her legs felt like rubber, her body properly restrained by him to prevent her from lulling about and falling from her seat. This sensation that burned through her body was electric. The nerves beneath her skin tingled in unison. A gasp fell outwardly from her lips. Yes. That's it. It was fire that burned through her very soul. She was taken to another world, another place in time. A plane of existence where she was safe from everything. Noel was her savior. He was her knight in shining armor, her to soothe her woes and mend her wounds. There was never such a blissful moment that muddled her thoughts than this very junction. Then it ended. He finished nipping at her neck and sat beside her. She felt his arm comfort her, binding around her small shoulders and cradling her like a babe. Her eyes parted slowly, a foggy view of the world as his supernatural allure weighed on her senses. Her silver mane nestled into his shoulder, her hands moving to grab onto his shirt for comfort. She needed to be close to him. To this stranger. No, he was not a stranger. He was divinity. No remedy, no herb, no therapy made her feel so jubilant before. So harmonious. Willing, she stayed, clung to Noel. She was negligent in her previous assessments of his person, and instead favored the shrouded demon that sat on her brain, casting his curse to rob her of the truth. These were not her real feelings, they were fictional, fabricated, forged. But they were real. Edited by Vivian, Thursday, 28. May 2015, 11:58.
|
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Monday, 1. June 2015, 11:56 Post #14 |
|
Order without Domination
|
With satisfaction Noël looked down on the Mortal, the spell still lay on her, good. After all it would have been tedious to get rid of the corpse, if he had to terminate her. For a sweet short moment his mind came to ease, her blood warming his system and soothing the driving hunger. His iceblue eyes slid over her moonlight hair, over her small form down on the bench. Between their feet a heart with an arrow and the letters “C + D” was scrawly carved in the dead wood… Dead wood and her life… A smile curved his now less pale lips. Two fingers of his free hand lay under her chin and lifted her face forcing her to see in his. With the softest voice he was able to he spoke to her, low like sharing a secret with her. Low to make her focus on his voice completely. Close to her face to make her feel his proximity. Sweet’eart, I understand you don’t want to be a model for me, but would you do me a small favour anyway? Just some little bit of you… I’d like to take a picture to remember our magic encounter. Taking her delicate hand and kissing her palm softly, keeping his glacial eyes locked on her clouded gaze. Just a little of your blood… I won’t ‘urt you, I promise… please! It took quite a bit for Noël to act like a lovestruck fool, but if he wanted the photo he had to pay this price. Hopefully the spell kept her mind down until the cut was set. It wasn’t a big thing, at least he was serious with one thing. He didn’t wish to hurt her, but he wanted this picture. Filling the carved lines in this dead wood with her vivid red life. Filling this distorted heart with life… wouldn’t that be beautiful? The love of C + D might be weathered and dead like this heart in wood, but he would fill it with life again. For a short time it would be alive and whispering. Because he wanted it. Because he could do it! |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| Vivian | Monday, 8. June 2015, 17:54 Post #15 |
|
The Happiest Depressed
|
She was drunk with an otherworldly drug filling her mind. Lightheaded she was, the paranormal affects on her head were lost to her existence. She only felt warm and weak and safe. And what a marvelous comforter he was. His lengthy frame twisted with hers under the skylight was all very pleasing. His thick accent made her ears tingle. His hold made her weightless. His presence made her content. And this request of his made her jubilant. She lifted her opposite wrist to him and pulled her head away, eyes gliding across his face with curiosity and reverence. "Do you promise?" She sad near breathlessly. Her thin lips curled as she raised her hand to him. Ready for the cut. "I'd love to give what I can... to learn how to become a better photographer.. show me what art is.." There was a tiny niggling in the back of her skull that was digging with it's tiny little claws at the organisms that made up her ability to exist. The rodent of reality was desperate to tell her she was lost in a facade. Her emotions and senses were manipulated, twisted, distorted. Nothing was real. Just like her nightmares, this man was an illusion. He was invading her soul and removing pieces of her. A mix of mental degradation and physical mutilation. It wanted deeply to free her of this thoughtless choice. Her deep seeded and sudden desire to please the silky haired boy was all a ruse to soil her. Yet the savior of her conscious could not pierce the veil of deception Noel had covered her with. She was enamored with him. Even doing something so ungodly as giving him her blood came across as sane and safe. |
|
Vivian ~ ~ ~ Oscar “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.” Stephen King | |
![]() |
|
| Noel de Gavrillac | Tuesday, 9. June 2015, 20:16 Post #16 |
|
Order without Domination
|
His blue eyes gleaming with the tenderness of a snow covered landscape, when she finally agreed almost eagerly to give him what he wanted. Gently he detached himself from her hold and unlocked the camera from the tripod. Swiftly his fingertips tapped the buttons to prepare everything. Then he reached in his backpack to change the lense. Some experienced moves and it was done. The other lense back in his bag. Then he gave a radiating smile to his silverhaired puppet. With one knee on the bench he kneeled in front of her, grabbing her small offered hand. I promise, chérie, if it ‘urts I’ll make it up to you. While he whispered his fake promise to her his grip closed around her wrist. Pressing on her veins slowing down the bloodflow to her fingers. The other hand reached inside his jacket to pull out a silvery scalpel. Popping off the cap on the blade with his thumb. His gaze digging in her wide eyes. She would miss the cold bonfire of completion. She would miss the glitter of satisfaction when the cold steel sank in her pale fingertip. A short hot sting of pain, he felt her twitch, but his grip was hard and merciless. Shhh… it’s already over, chouchou… Now look, ‘ow your life flows in the dead ‘eart! Slowly Noël released her wrist from the pressure his fingertips held on her vein. Immediately the blood started to trickle from the cut. Precious rubyred pearls of life felt on the bench. Gently the Toreador guided Vivian’s trembling hand in position to let the dark liquid fill the carved lines. His nostrils flared, the smell of her blood allured him first, remembering the divine taste of her purity. The choir of life chants breezed to his ears. A low moan fled his throat, when his will had to fight the sweet and tempting siren’s hands that wanted to pull him into a reverie. Noël’s free hand reached for his camera like a drowing Kine would grab a lifebelt. This was the anchor to keep him conscious. Finally he let go of Vivian’s hand. She was focused to let her blood drip in the lines of the heart. Her silver hair felt over her pale delicate features. Then Noël adjusted some measures and a first series of clicks shot the pictures he craved for since he had met this girl. Changing his position slightly and after a short look to the girl the next series of clicks, the wood had sucked up the first drops of blood, but then the next drops filled the heart and the arrow with the letters in the middle, like water filled the moat around a sandcastle on the beach. When the blood stops, press your fingertip with two fingers, chérie… Without taking down the camera Noël spoke to Vivian. Setting the flashlight for another series of pictures would give him several scopes to work with. He couldn’t wait to start the work at home. Hopefully this was a good omen for his work here in London. After he had the pictures his gaze lay for a moment thoughtful on the girl. Trying to figure out, if the spell still was on her. Tucking away his camera and sitting at her side again, gently taking her hand in his and kissing the cut on her fingertip. The Toreador shuddered when the taste of the remaining blood tingled on his lips. Merci Vivian… He whispered again to make her listen carefully. Capturing her blue orbs with his intense gaze. Just one task to fulfill now. Making sure to keep a grip on this source of pure, clean blood… With soothing, mellow voice the French followed his last thought and worded it out, hoping she would step in this last trap and agree… Chérie, I need your phone number and address now, then I can send you the pictures when I worked them over. If you like I also send you some advices to the photos, so you can do your own art. The secret of art is to work with what you like. That’s why I wanted your blood on this pictures… A gentle smile came with this little white lie. Of course he wanted her blood… it was delicious. The vessel was of less interest for him. Anyway he knew, he had to be nice to the vessel to get the content… |
![]() "The blood jet is poetry. There is no stopping it." Sylvia Plath english french russian thoughts | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · The Borough of Enfield · Next Topic » |








1:15 AM Jul 11