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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: |
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| Blood, Bruises and Drugs; Sullivan's haven, any anrachs (if you knock first!) | |
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| Topic Started: Friday, 22. April 2011, 19:15 (1,418 Views) | |
| Nora Penvellyn | Monday, 9. May 2011, 16:14 Post #21 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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(OOC: Sorry it's taken me so long to reply. Been busy, busy this weekend! I don't know how far exactly this is going to go between Sully and Nora in this thread at least, but I'm having a hard time really putting a face to him. Is there a specific actor or musician you had in mind when you wrote him?) Nora sat on her perch and giggled as she watched him squirm beneath her. He looked to her with a quirked brow, like she'd said something too ridiculous for words. Had he really never been asked what he wanted before? Had his unlife really been that lonely? A part of her wanted to know; wanted to ask him these questions and so many others. She wanted to know him on a deeper level then anyone else did. She wanted to understand him. There was something about him that she wanted to be intertwined with, something that made her somehow feel...complete. Was she over-thinking all this? Was it more then met the eye? She was snapped out of her thoughts by a rather feral growl. She looked down to Sully and bit her lip, moaning as he dug his nails into her shoulder, grabbing her ass and leaning up to kiss her. It was rough, yet passionate. He held her against him with a stone grip. She pulled away finally, continuing her gyrating as she took two fistfuls of flimsy cotton and tore the fabric like a piece of paper. She impatiently ripped the shirt off and threw it behind her, eagerly pulling Sully up into a sitting position against as her as she molded herself to him. Her arms were snaked around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair and her soft, her bare skin pressed almost painfully against his hard, bare flesh. She moaned in his ear and let her head fall back as she continued her seducing. "I guess that says enough..." she sighed and closed the space between them again, tangled in a passionate knot of arms, legs, and lust. The kisses got hotter, heavier, and less gentle with every passing second. She wanted more, needed more. "Don't be shy, Sullivan...show me what you want." |
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| Sullivan | Tuesday, 10. May 2011, 01:46 Post #22 |
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Ancilla
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Sullivan groaned with a certain degree of satisfaction as he finally allowed himself to be free of restraint, setting aside his hesitance and caution - they needn't be a primary concern now. He was home, dry - sort of, anyway - and neck-deep in desire and an all-too-tempting subtle vying for dominance. One of his hands flung out to his side, clawing haphazardly for the throw usually over the back of the sofa bed and struggling to find it. He suspected that this was mostly due to his focus being, well, elsewhere. To his senses, perhaps aside from a few whisps of scent every few breaths, the room around them was gone - they could've been smack in the middle of a Camarilla primogen meeting, laid out upon the table before their 'elders and betters' like some kind of cheap sleazy video made flesh, and he wouldn't have cared. Where they were was irrelevant - what was happening was driving him wild. For the first time in a long, long time... He liked it. His snatching, grabbing hand finally found the edge of the throw. As he fought bitterly with it to pull it free of the twisted grip on the edges that the downed back panel had, he had to confess, even if only to his own mind - he had no idea what he was doing, or why. In every conversation he had ever had about the nature of kindred and desire, there had never been talk of this. It had all been about blood. Having never heard of one kindred wanting or needing another's touch, caress and lustful gaze as he found he needed Nora's, he wasn't even sure if he was supposed to want this - the fact that he cared so very little about what was expected and what he was doing by comparison almost scared him, but not nearly enough to stop. The long, soft sheet of smooth fleece and trailing tassels came free, and the Irishman twisted his lips into a smile even as he used them voraciously to do battle with Nora's. Pulling it closer, his other hand reached for the buckle on his belt - and it came free with a straining, tearing snap of strap leather as he yanked harder on both the sheet and his pants, throwing one unceremoniously to the floor and the other up and over the top of them both, pulling himself free of Nora purely to gaze at her, his smile imp-like but his eyes sparkling with the reflection of the fire as it slowly reduced itself to embers, "You utterly beautiful minx." He hadn't intended to even say one word, and yet they had sort of slipped out - as if purely thinking them was somehow not enough. As if Nora didn't already know how he felt, his heart thundering against his ribs the way it just hadn't done for decades. Without even a second thought - hell, without a first thought - Sullivan encircled his arms around the woman he'd found himself unable to ignore, and his perception of time blurred into nearly nothing. It felt as though despite being close to sun-up, dawn was stuck in a cab suffering from the city's famed congestion, and wasn't going to be there when expected. It was difficult to find words to describe the connection he felt building itself between them. Good? Too simple, and didn't even come close to saying enough. No, if there was a description that best fitted this, that best described how he and Nora - ruins of themselves as they were - somehow fitted together into a single whole... It was probably Wild. His restraint lay on the floor in tatters next to their - or technically just his - clothes, and he didn't want to see it again for quite some time. Upon that realization, he playfully growled against her kiss and gripped one of her legs at the thigh, the gentle stroke of his thumb upon the underside of it in total juxtaposition to the rest of him. This was what he had wanted - a connection, an understanding... A part of his life once lost. No matter what happened afterwards, he would never forget Nora for giving that back to him. Edited by Sullivan, Sunday, 15. May 2011, 23:22.
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| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 19. May 2011, 05:24 Post #23 |
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Rebel With a Cause
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In the moments that had lead up to this, Nora was entirely confident. She didn't care if she'd just met this man she was tangled with a mere few hours ago, or the fact that she really didn't even know him; these things weren't important to her. Having had complete control up until now, she wasn't afraid, the past didn't haunt her, nor did she have an itch that told her she moving way too fast. But now...she couldn't quite tell what she was feeling. She couldn't help but smile as he said these sweet nothings to her, nor would she ever get tired of hearing his thick Irish accent crooning to her, but something about this just didn't feel right anymore. She didn't want to pull away, but she didn't want to go any further either. Perhaps it had to do with his sudden show of dominance. Maybe that's what slapped her in the face and made her realize where she was and what she was doing. She couldn't help but think of Donovan though...it seemed they both had enough in common, considering they both ran with the Sabbat at some point in their unlife. He was embraced by one, she had once been in a very unhealthy relationship - if you could call it that - with one. This wasn't the time or place to discuss any of this, but it was the time to slow things down. Did she really want to base what could be something really good off a lusty one night stand? Was that even what this was? She broke away from the kiss and looked up to him, supple curves pressed hard against rigid muscle, and all she could do was smile weakly at him. The dying flames and the light that was pitched out of the fireplace flickered in his gaze...she could be comfortable with this. If this were her last night, wrapped in these strong arms and looking up to this rugged, yet somehow gentle face, she'd rest peacefully. She hadn't felt this way since she'd met her sire thirty years ago, not far from here, oddly enough. He caressed her thigh with a feather touch, his turgid manhood making itself very well noticed. She could take advantage of this... But for some reason, she didn't want to now. Five minutes ago, it was the only thought on her mind, but now, she was perfectly content with laying like this and simply enjoying his company and touch. She wanted to submit to him, and let him have his way, as she was sure he wanted the same thing he did, but looking into his eyes now, she knew it could wait. She knew he was feeling the same way he did, to a degree anyway. Words weren't necessary, as their body language was well enough. She reached up and ran her slim fingers through his thick mane again, caressing his cheek and letting her finger tips explore the subtle ridge of his collar bone and down to his chest. "I think...I'd be happy just laying like this for awhile," and by 'awhile', she meant an eternity, "We have all the time in the world to be naughty, but there's never enough time to really just enjoy a simple moment like this." |
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| Sullivan | Thursday, 19. May 2011, 14:13 Post #24 |
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Ancilla
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Sullivan felt a part of him - namely the part he had been holding back, along with aspects of the Beast - disagree with her, want what she had offered and feel anger at having it taken away so suddenly without reason - at least from the perspective those aspects could see. Sullivan allowed them one outlet, and his fingers continued to trail themselves through her scales splashed across her form, still enjoying the semi-regular transitionf rom scales to flesh and back again. But Sullivan - the man that the vampire claimed to be - thought differently to the other, more vocal parts of his psyche, and he put the fact that he was being encouraged to act dominant to use, silencing his detractors within and feeling his manhood slowly but surely accept the situation. In the end, he realized he had no excuse for disatisfaction - he had wanted a connection with someone, someone who could understand what he was dealing with, what he was trying to leave behind or eradicate - whichever came first. Nora was that someone, and they had quite clearly made a connection of some description, stronger than the respect he held for Vinnie... But not so strong that he would push this and expect it to be fine. He knew better. Unable to fully express acceptance, at least for a little while, Sullivan let a lops-ided, cheeky grin grow onto his face like a charming little crack across a china plate. As arousal lowered itself back through all of the stages that they had between them smashed through, the Irishman reached a hand up to Nora's face, fingertips teasing a few strand of her hair - some coloured and eye-catching, others the irresistible inky black that smothered them. He didn't know what to say. He had gotten what he had wanted, even though for a little while Nora had convinced him that he'd wanted something else. Now, it was a case of making sure she got what she wanted too - it was only fair. "If that's what ye want, Nora... That's more than fine with me. Ye've scared me shitless these past few... " He glanced at his watch on the floor, discoarded like everything else and chuckled, "Shit I don't know. But that's besides tha point. What I'm tryin' ta say... Is somethin' I'm not even sure I'll get right meself. An' much as I'm sure i counts as me bein' slightly less of a man because of it... I agree. Just cuz o' what we are, we've got time up ta the eyeballs. Fer now, though? C'mere." He leaned up to her again, nearly chuckling as he was reminded that his lower lip had been bloodied. It didn't stop him - this was the closest he'd had to a good night for a long time, and her kiss felt like somebody in this shit-hole actually wanted him around. It wasn't often that he had that. Alasdair was still out there somewhere. Jack, too. Only God knew who else would become a problem between now and whatever time he could deal with them, and that wasn't counting Tumour's job. Sullivan held in his instinct to stiffen as he remembered the job that the Nosferatu had given him, but he cursed mentally. That'd mean getting up and going early. Ah, screw it, that wasn't gonna be easy or pleasant - he was a lot more inclined to stick around tomorrow night at least until Nora woke than he was to go ahead and rush to get that over with. The more he could delay it until he was prepared, the better. Pulling away, he smirked and spoke softly, "Y'know... Vinnie's sleepin' in the room that has all the clothes. Come mornin', I'll race ye fer tha jeans in the kitchen." He said, finally lying back against the sofa bed and actually trying to get comfortable - with Nora encircled by his arms, it was somehow easier than usual. The Irish Gangrel just grinned - he didn't need to be a genius to figure out why. Sleep didn't take long to place pressure on his eyelids, though Sullivan did his best to stay awake longer than Nora in an attempt to use up the residual competition between them. Darkness encircled him too quickly for him to find out if he achieved his goal for sure, and despite the images of Alasdair - remembered from the day Sullivan'd tore his claws through his face and from the recent bought with dementation - flowing about him like the water tunnel in the sea life centre, the Irishman gained restful sleep. If he ever got the chance to say so, he'd thank Nora for this. It depended largely on his pride. Edited by Sullivan, Friday, 20. May 2011, 13:48.
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2:02 AM Jul 11