![]()
|
|||||||||||||||
| 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: |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Work and Play | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Thursday, 28. July 2011, 21:22 (1,454 Views) | |
| Sullivan | Thursday, 28. July 2011, 21:22 Post #1 |
|
Ancilla
|
The night had been slow to arrive - Sullivan knew it for certain. He'd lain awake watching the painful glow of the sun beat itself against the closed curtains. He'd wanted to sleep - had tried to with all he had - but there was too much on his mind, and it wouldn't give him the peace he needed. Hell, just thinking about the balancing act he'd set himself up for was giving him the beginnings of a second headache. When they'd come back to his place - by and large, he assumed, because Nora didn't have her own yet - nothing else had happened. He wasn't sure if he felt like there should've been, but he wasn't one for changing what had happened, or wasting his time wishing he could. What he did know was that having laid down with Nora in his arms had been an enormous weight of his shoulders - one he hadn't been aware of until it was gone. The Irishman had assumed that doing this - being with another person, allowing their connection to deepen, understanding more and more of how they clicked togetehr so easily - would help in a way. Give them both a sense of what it was to be a little more normal than they really were. He didn't know for certain if that was the case, but despite his inability to sleep, he had appreciated Nora's presence. She made him feel more like a man than he often felt, more detatched from the whims of the Beast despite how she stirred it from slumber as well. The job for Tumour still needed doing. It weighed down on him like concrete shoes weighed down a mafia victim, and he still didn't know how he would explain to Nora why he had to dash off somewhere in the coming nights. He wasn't certain if he really wanted to... But then, he'd somewhat expected that response. To leave her to do the bidding of some conniving Nosferatu? Not something that found itself on his list of favoured activities. He wiggled his toes absent-mindedly as his mind drifted again - he still didn't even know who Bradshaw was, which was another reason to not be keen on the job - having no idea of the target, he had no idea of the difficulty the task entailed. He supposed that all of this uncertainty was responsible for his inability to sleep through the day - a feat that was notoriously difficult in and of itself - and that worried him further. That much concern for a job, he had learned throughout his unlife, was never unjustified. He just hoped he found a loophole to get out of the arrangement or a much, much easier method for dealing with it. |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Friday, 29. July 2011, 01:16 Post #2 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Something strangely felt so right; being able to lay down with this man and his face and voice being the last one she saw or heard before sleep took her. Despite how twacked out she was earlier that evening, sleep wasn't nearly as hard to come by as it apparently was for her lover. She stirred in her sleep more then a few times that she could remember, but his embrace never faltered around her, and every time she tossed or turned, he was still seemingly awake. The next time she opened her eyes though, the sun had finally set and he was still in the same spot he was the last time she'd woken up. She found herself tucked in comfortably against the length of his body, her back pressed against his chest and his strong arm draped over her rib cage and settled under her bust, his hand over hers, their fingers intertwined. She smiled to herself before rolling over to face him. He looked tired...did he sleep at all? She smiled as she peered up to him, kissing him playfully before settling in his embrace again. She couldn't shake this feeling. It felt so natural for their bodies to be molded together like this in a tangle of arms and legs and long hair. "So tell me, lover...what's on your mind? You look tired as hell..." |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Friday, 29. July 2011, 11:22 Post #3 |
|
Ancilla
|
Sullivan was almost ambushed by her sudden kiss and the question that he truly didn't know how to answer - at least not in a matter that sent her from his arms in a rage, which he honestly wasn't sure he could take. In all this worry, Nora was simultaneously the focus of his concerns and the only thing that seemed able to help him put them aside. Much as everything she was simultaneously tormented and enticed him, he supposed. He opted for the closest thing to a white lie he felt he could pull off - a joke. With the twisting upward of one side of his mouth, the Irishman spoke with another half-chuckle hidden in amongst the words, "What's on my mind? Mostly hair." He allowed his half-smile to become full, and traced his fingers haphazardly across Nora's back, leading them nowhere in particularand doubling back on themselves often, "That and I met this amazing woman last night... " He leaned in to kiss her, the follow-up already in his head as he ceased the press of lips, "She's comin' round later, I'll introduce ye." He laughed softly, and wondered if perhaps that was a joke he wouldn't be pulling again - Nora was about to tell him either way. He should've slept like a log. Lord knew he'd tried... But despite having found someone - and having her claim his twisted, wasted heart so quickly at that - it had been too much to ask to sleep alongside the comfort she brought, when due to his own damn plans he'd made her part of a problem he didn't know he could solve. Much as she beckoned feelings from him that he'd forgotten about for so long, drew out of him a part of the man he'd never thought to get back... She was in the dark as to his debt to the Nosferatu. That weighed down so heavily it felt like the wheel of a truck on his chest. He supposed at least in part, the jig was up. He wasn't a fantastic liar at the best of times - he'd never had to be, living or dead - and he suspected his face gave him away a little bit, despite the smile he held there. He and felt so much more whole a person, so much better about the life - or lack thereof - he was stuck with, knowing that he held Nora in his arms. He just... Couldn't shake the fact that everything else that needed doing wasn't going to wait forever. Bradshaw needed dealing with one of these coming nights, and Sullivan knew he'd better be prepared to do it, or Tumour would have him dealt with. He didn't want to find out what dealt with meant in this context. He knew well enough already that, while varying in exact methods from one Kindred to the next, if it was a Kindred saying it? Then that meant being 'dealt with' was a bad, bad idea. |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Saturday, 30. July 2011, 05:42 Post #4 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
"Oh really? Well, I hope I won't be disappointed." She smiled, a girlish giggle filling the empty air around them. She watched his eyes falter though...despite the genuine smile he wore, there was something...something he wasn't telling her. She didn't want to ruin a perfectly good moment getting angry, but after going through this much with him, she couldn't imagine why he'd hide anything from her. Surely he realized by now that she could take the shots... She couldn't help but let this get to her. He wouldn't know she was catching on until she wanted him to, though. One of the first lessons Vry taught her was how to lie. How to contain every emotion with immaculate self-control and make even a Ventrue believe her. He also taught her how to see through lies...although she could never see through his, as it was. Sullivan, however, was different. He was too proud to lie. No, pride wasn't the word...was it honest? She couldn't remember the last time she actually met an honest man. Maybe that was why he was such a terrible liar. She couldn't help but wonder what was so bad that he felt the need to keep her in the dark. Was he in some kind of trouble? Did he piss off the wrong Sheriff, or was he running from someone... did it have to do with whoever this man was that was obsessed with finding first? She looked to him with an expressionless gaze before shifting and settling on top of him. He wouldn't be able to deny her with the tempting tremble of her thighs and the quiet exhale she gave as she looked down to him with pursed lips. Her tresses hung in untamed waves and curls, framing her hellish angel face perfectly, "You know, Sullivan, I trust you have good intention, but I'll give you some advice..." she leaned down, brushing her lips against his ear as she spoke in a hushed whisper, "Women like me don't appreciate being lied to. It's much too scandalous, and quite frankly, very unattractive. Lucky for you, I'm smarter then most women like me, and I can tell you don't want to lie, so...there's something you're not telling me, and probably for good reason." She moved with liquid grace to a sitting position beside him now, looking down to him with sincere concern in her eyes, "I don't mean to put you in such a position, but given the recent...events, I'd hate to see you get caught in something you can't get out of. I know I've been more of a burden then a blessing, but I've played both sides of the table...I know more about this game then you think, and I can sometimes actually be of great help. Plus, I'd really hate to have to follow you just to find out what is really going on, because believe me, I can and will if I have to." She didn't mean this as a threat, but as a promise. It bothered her more then anything else that he didn't trust her enough to tell her what was going on. Realistically, she didn't blame him. Anyone who trusted her that quickly would be a fool, but did trusting him so blindly make her one as well? "All I'm saying is if we're going to let this continue, whatever it is, we have to trust each other...with everything. I know it's a lot to ask, I know I'm probably the last person you'd choose to tell your dirty little secrets, but believe me when I say I'll do anything I can to help." She tried to be as gentle about it as possible. She had no idea what it was he was keeping from her, but the fact that he was keep it in the first place meant it couldn't be good. |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Saturday, 30. July 2011, 15:13 Post #5 |
|
Ancilla
|
Sullivan felt his smile change the message it carried, and found himself smiling one of those uneasy, caught in the headlights smiles. He didn't like being so under the microscope... But she'd caught him out. Least he could do was be honest about it, no matter how much he feared it would end up screwing them both over as a result. He had assumed that tonight, they'd have spent time actually talking - about themselves, about what they wanted out of this existence... Actually finding out about one another. He supoosed that could still be the case - but damn if he hadn't hoped they wouldn't start with this. He eased himself upright so he could look into her eyes from a level, equal position, his expression becoming less 'jig's up' and more apologetic. It wasn't like he'd set out to lie to Nora exactly... He'd just kinda thought that this job'd be over and done - one way or the other - long before anything happened between him and Nora. Hell, at the time he'd not even known for sure if anything would. He began slowly but honestly, trying to explain his motives without ruining the genuine affection circling about them - it was such a rare thing to be on the recieving end of that he didn't want it to go away as quickly as he feared it might. "Well, I'll count meself lucky that ye're not of a mind to take this an' fly into a rage over it - long story, 'nother time. But I do want to get somethin' straight before we go any further - I don't think of ye as a burden, Nora. I think ye're as volatile as ye can get, but I actually like that in a woman." He let his almost-laugh smile fade a bit and itched his shoulder - he wasn't sure precisely how to address this. It'd never become an issue before, really. He'd never thought it would, either. "If I had to try and pin it down on one thing... It's my - admittedly antiquated - sense of honour. I was still a mortal in... Christ I don't know... Round the Second World War, or thereabouts. Woulda served - and died - if not fer Alasdair, so I suppose I owe 'im somethin'. Either way, it was a time where a man still stood up and defended his lass. Protected her." He chuckled and shrugged, "Maybe I just had a little more trouble than I thought I did letting that go." Itching the back of his head, he sighed. There was no easy part of this - not even the end. It was extremely irritating. Literally a matter of hours ago he was on the same level as Nora in every possible sense, had understood everything about her that had mattered in the here and now - but now that the here and now back then wasn't the same as the present, it seemed non-applicable. He supposed it could be considered the main disadvantage of a primal nature, a sudden lack of udnerstanding the very instant you left the moment to which it applied. Either way, he tried to make clear what he meant to say in the first place, "All o' this basically leads up to the night I met ye. I got hold of some blood an' drugs - an' I hadn't picked enough pockets this week to pay. So, I offered my services in trade. My Nossie contact who got the stuff - calls 'imself Tumour, for reasons I needn't explain - asked me to step in, on the quiet - on that new investigation, the one to do with Don Lancaster's body bein' found. So, I figured to meself that if I could get that done on the quiet... Then ye need never know." With a lop-sided, almost cheerful grin, Sullivan ended his tale of - frankly - idiocy and abuse of trust, with a lighter tone, "And, like ye're unnervingly good at doin', ye unravelled me plan before I got past stage one. Personally, I'll take it as a good sign that whatever it is we've got'll last - little while at the very least. But perhaps that's just my limitless and ultimately unhelpful optimism." Edited by Sullivan, Saturday, 30. July 2011, 15:15.
|
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Sunday, 31. July 2011, 19:22 Post #6 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Nora listened with all ears as he explained the situation. So he was in this shit because of her? He was being forced to do this by some nasty, putrid Nossie because he helped her? What she was hearing sounded fucking ridiculous, but it was for reasons exactly like these that she never depended on anyone else. Typical vampire politics always make a mess of things. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, her chin resting comfortably atop them. To him, her expression would never change. He wouldn't see the complete outrage in her eyes or the sense or growing want to find this ugly fuck and kill him herself. She knew she couldn't do anything of the sort though...if he conned Sullivan into such a deal, he had to be of the Camarilla sort. It was after all a case that was being handled by them, so why on earth would he think getting an Anarch involved would be a good idea? She shook her head and let out an exasperated, and very unbelieving laugh as she looked to him, "I don't understand how such a good man keeps getting tangled in sticky webs." She smiled before returning to his side, relishing in the comfort of bare skin pressed against cool, bare skin and the contrast of her curves fitting so perfectly against his muscled body. She laid her head on his chest for a few moments before looking up to him again, "This shouldn't be your concern. I heard of that case, and it was supposedly being handled by the Camarilla. This speaks otherwise. You have nothing to do with mess, so it shouldn't be your problem or debt to pay..." A thought crossed her mind. It could be risky, but it was the only sensible one she could think of that didn't include imminent blood shed and possible war. "You should take this to the Prince... he has far more resources and numbers then you or I do. Let alone, I can't believe he isn't handling this himself to begin with. I can't think of anymore pressing matters that could hinder his attention beside protecting the bloody Masquerade." |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Monday, 1. August 2011, 16:03 Post #7 |
|
Ancilla
|
The Irishman shrugged, gesturing towards himself momentarily as he spoke, "See, I thought o' that... An' then I remembered that the last time I was in Cam turf woulda been maybe forty years ago, or thereabouts. I was still with the Sword... An' I may or may not've insulted a few o' their number. Physically or otherwise." He chuckled at that, his dislike of the situation lifted somewhat. It was easy to let himself off the hook and just believe in Nora's words, that he was a nice man who didn't deserve all of this... But he knew what he'd done with his forty years in the Sword's clutches, what his clawed hands had been responsible for, how much blood in London's sewers was his doing. It was just too much to think he was a good man. Aiming for it, certainly... But inwardly he worried that if he ever considered himself 'good', then he'd start making the excuse that one horrid act every now and again was alright. No, everything he'd done needed to weigh him down, he needed to remember - or he reverted back into the monster, the Beast's puppet. "Judgin' by the job and the situation, I wouldn't be surprised if they're tryin' ta have me screw up so they can blame a masquerade breach on tha Anarchs and have done with it." That was probably the angle, now that he thought about it. It left him irritated at being the patsy that the Cam had decided to play for a fool - not least because the Anarchs as a group only existed because they didn't like the other two made available, and he barely considered himself one to begin with. Ultimately, the anarchs held turf they wanted, and they wanted to take it back with justification. 'Children incapable of playing by the rules' was as good a reason as any, and certainly fit the Camarilla's opinions nicely. He glanced at Nora and smiled with a shrug, nudging his forehead to hers, "And of the two of us, you thought you were the one who got in trouble.” He quipped, his grin toothy and perhaps a little bit more innocent-looking than neither Nora nor himself really were. Itching the back of his head, he came to the realization that he had undone his hair before he'd tried to go to sleep, and smirked, catching sight of his hair-tie on the floor and leaning to one side to fetch it, hand outstretched and twitching at the small strip of cloth, "How would I even get through the front door, anyway? I don't exactly fit the description of the Prince's favoured guest or a contact in the anarch turf." He said, admittedly with his tone squashed and compressed thanks to his awkward positioning. Pulling himself back upward with the hair tie in his grasp, the Irishman grinned, "Now I just need to work out how much of this mess can be saved and how much I'll just hafta deal with." He said with a chuckled, indicating his hair, made wild against the pillow despite having barely moved. |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Tuesday, 2. August 2011, 17:32 Post #8 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
"That, my sweet, is something that is uncomprehendingly easy for people like you and I." Nora smirked, watching as he messed with his hair. She sat up, getting on her knees and sliding behind him quietly and taking the small strip of cloth from his hand and combing her lithe fingers through his thick mane. She smoothed her hands over the top of his head, pulling it all together in one tightly bound pony tail. Spying the lone mirror hanging on the wall, part of her didn't want to move another inch closer to it, but if she didn't, he'd notice something, considering she was glaring at it from a distance and her attention was frozen on it for an indefinite period of time. Finally getting out of bed, she pulled him along with her, being careful to stay behind his tall frame as she ushered him towards it. Continuing to tuck stray locks of hair away from his face, She moved to his side, out of the way of the mirror's line of sight as she smiled to him, "That'll have to be replaced with something a little more...pliable. You don't actually have to look like someone the likes of the Prince's presence. Just use the gift you were given, like so.." Nora burned an inkling of blood as she pulled her obfuscate closely around her, donning her natural mask. She smiled up to him, looking not a day older than 19 and every bit as innocent and youthful as she was the day before she died. Her skin was smooth, bereft of any scar, tattoo, or scale, and her eyes looked larger, nothing close to feline, and doe-like. The mask had taken years of practice to perfect, but she looked exactly as she had when she was alive. "Nothing a little blood and a straight razor can't fix," She smiled genuinely before dropping the mask and grabbing his chin, pulling him down to kiss him, careful not to let him pull her any closer to the mirror then she already was. "If Elysium is anything to go by, getting pretty and walking through the door is the easy part... I'll go with you, if you'd like. I don't have any Camarilla connections anymore, but if there's one thing that's almost impossible to forget with them, it's etiquette." |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Wednesday, 3. August 2011, 21:28 Post #9 |
|
Ancilla
|
Something was off. He didn't have proof, or even a real indicator to point to... But something about what had just happened wasn't quite right. He could feel it, like overly long fingernails scratching just a little bit too hard across his skin. Even as Nora smiled at him, pulled him to kiss her - things that, judging by most scales of evaluation, should've made the moment rank as somewhere between 'great' and 'fantastic' - something didn't sit right. Sullivan didn't like feeling like he'd missed a detail. Details killed you in the end, he'd learned that in Alasdair's company time and again. The moment came too quickly, but he almost felt it physically envelop them - this was the only chance he had, or he would never know what it was Nora had to hide. Much like a good joke, unravelling a lie was all in the timing. He didn't feel the puppet-strings of the Beast raise his hackles or rumble a growl in his throat. Hell, he wasn't sure he had the right to be angry - she'd caught him out first. Sighing, Sullivan clamped invisible hands down on the moment just before it slunk by, and gazed at Nora, not sure what emotion was the right one to wear on his face. "Nora... " He began his sentence and lost it - he didn't like using his past with the Sword in any part of his life, hoever minor. But it had to be - at least this time. Guiding Nora back to sit on the edge of the bed, Sullivan held her hands in his own, and spoke solemnly - he wasn't proud of himself for how he knew he'd not been told something just now, but he wasn't ashamed enough to not ask what the secret was. "I'm an awful liar - ye don't need me ta tell ye ta know it. But interrogatin' folk for tha Sword left me with pretty keen senses fer other people's secrets." He smiled softly, but the expression didn't stick long enough to change the mood, "If we're gettin' everythin' out in the open... Then it's gotta be a two-way thing. If we're not - if it's just a bit at a time, then... Well, then I have to know what's wrong that way too. I don't know what spooked ye, but somethin' did. Let me help." It made him feel a little unfair, to drag her current difficulties - whatever they were - into the spotlight. But if she was going to be helping him, she deserved the same. |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 4. August 2011, 17:39 Post #10 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Nora watched him with some uncertainty as he pulled her away from where they were standing, relaxing some with the newly gained distance from that spooky piece of glass hanging on the wall. The look in his eyes and subtle doubt in his expression, however, spoke otherwise. She wouldn't let herself get comfortable, because being sat down like a small child that needed some explaining was never a good thing. She couldn't take her eyes off the mirror, refused to let anything that could have been waiting for her in it's depths and reach get to her. She looked to him, and all she could show was utter fear. He saw something...God damn it, had she tried to not let him see anything... As soon as he spoke, he confirmed this horrifying thought. "No..." She looked away, her hands almost immediately falling from his as she crawled away from him, backing away like a frightened crab, trying to find somewhere to sink into and hide. She stumbled off the bed, falling to the floor with a whimper as she cornered herself like a frightened animal and resumed the fetal position, her knees tucked tightly beneath her chin and her arms wrapped around her shins in a death grip. She refused to look him in the eyes as she started to fall apart, clinging to her physical body in an attempt to keep herself together despite the sheer terror in her gaze that lead to that fucking mirror and the tears that were welling in her eyes. She screamed at Sullivan, "You can't make me!" as the blood finally spilled down her face. Try as she might to wipe them away, they smeared across her pale cheeks unceremoniously. She was every bit of the scared little girl in the throws of a meltdown that she never let anyone see. It was a side of her she tried with all her might to keep locked away. |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Thursday, 4. August 2011, 20:57 Post #11 |
|
Ancilla
|
Sullivan couldn't help but be put in awe at the sheer fear that held Nora. He had reduced Kindred and Kine alike to tears and shakes, gibbering nonsense and whatever info he wanted just so that he'd make the pain stop... But whatever struck her so deeply in her deadened heart was leaps and bounds out of his league. How, or why... That he didn't know. But just seeing her like this had him feeling the bad guy all over again. He steadied himself for the uncertainty of what could come next. He'd seen Nora hurt, seen her emotionally vulnerable, angry... But not scared. Following her gaze, the realization hit him like a hammer-blow - the mirror. His eyes widened as the image of her arms as he'd seen them - and failed to notice at the time - passed by his eyes like it was real for a second time. Spindly, translucent skin and bone, spidery black veins spiralling around the thin limbs of... Well, a corpse. Only really seeing two ways to go forwards - to either cover the mirror or push this until either Nora snapped or complied - Sullivan made a judgement call that he was willing to at least suspect wasn't the right one. But he refused to back-track now. He approached - slower than he had to, and held his hands slightly upward, peaceful. This wasn't a fight, and he wasn't the enemy - coming across as one didn't serve to either calm Nora or gain the answers he sought. Stepping towards Nora's side, he knelt beside her on both knees - even having a knee raised seemed too aggressive a posture. Gingerly, he left one palm touch down onto the flesh of Nora's shoulder, and spoke, not sure he had the words but trying regardless, "I can't make ye do anything, Nora - I think we both know that. If nothing else, ye also know that I don't think of meself as havin' the right ta try. But the way I see it... There's two ways this can happen. We can try to solve this - here and now, where I can help ye as best I can and we can work out a way around it. Or, we can leave it be - and a year from now, ten, somethin' will happen that I can't stop or that ye didn't expect. An' neither of us bein' prepared? That doesn't bode well, love." He shifted a little, and sat beside her proper, hand slinking to the other shoulder and rubbing his thumb across it reassuringly. He didn't have a lot of other things he could say - words had never had to be his strong point as Kindred. Humour had occassionally floated into his range of capabilities, but for a long time that had been of the darker variety. Dry. Mocking. Designed to emphasize pains already inflicted. These days... Regular, light-hearted sarcasm was serving him better. Either way - this didn't quite seem the time or place for it. "Make yer choice, Nora - I'll back ye either way. Under this roof, nobody makes anybody do anythin'..." With a slight chuckle, he grinned, "'Cept that thing with yer hands, ye're gonna hafta do that again." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Friday, 5. August 2011, 12:39 Post #12 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Nora stayed tensely tucked into a ball, hiding her face and afraid to even look at him. She wasn't sure what to do now. Sullivan was proving himself to be many things, and part of her couldn't bear to let herself unravel and make him take on everything that was her underlying issues. She didn't want to make him do it, so much that she felt guilty for even making the mistake of going near the damn thing that caused her so much torment. She finally looked to the man sitting patiently beside her, looking just as stressed as she was, and at a loss for what to do or say other than simply trying to help. Her face was covered in rusty smears and rivers of vermilion that ran down her paled face. She tried to relax but couldn't let herself, "I don't want to make this any harder then it already is..." She had a decision to make. She couldn't hide this forever, she knew that much, but she didn't want to face it either. If this was going to work, whatever this bizarre relationship was growing between them, she had to put it all out there, but she couldn't bare letting him see her in such a state. She couldn't stand it herself, so how on earth could he? Could he really help her? Could he be the constant that no one else could be? She spoke slowly, as if chewing and swallowing every word before she let it fall out of her mouth, "I've made mistakes...and I've been paying the price for this one for ten years now...I don't know how I inherited it, but I'm sure...it had something to do...with the vampire I drained." Before he could stop her or get up, she was off the floor and standing warily in front of the mirror, facing her back to it and looking every bit of a crazed lunatic from where she loomed in the middle of the room. Her arms were folded tightly beneath her bust, chewing her bottom lip to near bleeding and feeling uncompromisingly naked and vulnerable despite the camisole and panties that clung to her like a second skin. She couldn't look him in the eye, couldn't let him see just how scared she really was. "If I do this... if I show you... Just... You have to make me. I can't do it. I can't do it by myself. I don't want to see him again. I don't want to see myself..." She covered her face, mumbling in hushed tones about the shadows that always followed her. She was shaking, try as she might to take control and make the tremors stop, she couldn't find a ledge to grasp. "Just do it..." |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Saturday, 6. August 2011, 16:06 Post #13 |
|
Ancilla
|
Somewhere along the way to this point, everything had become so much more serious than things had ever been with them before. Sullivan didn't know what was fair to call the bond he and Nora were building up between them, but it had always seemed playful - perhaps even as simple as the pair of them satisfying an urge, however complex that urge was in and of itself. Now, it wasn't that. As she stood, back to her reflective bane, he marvelled how even as she struggled so completely with a fear that consumed her every moment... Nora didn't let it stop her fully. Now, though, the pressure was shifted onto him - though he suspected Nora might disagree. It wouldn't even be a full moment before Nora whirled her fist around and smashed that mirror if she wanted to, scattering it across the floor as so many glinting points... But she didn't. Even as he stared up at her from the floor, Sullivan saw a lot in Nora that he suspected right now she might deny - and more than any other, courage shone to the fore. He couldn't let a woman brave enough to contend with fear the likes of which he had never known be left to her own nightmares. Getting to his feet, the Irishman gently gripped Nora's shoulders and spoke, his voice softer than usual, "Close your eyes, if it helps. I don't know if that makes a difference or anything, but... " He left the sentence as it was - Nora didn't need words. Words alone wouldn't be enough. Of course, the issue of her having drained another Kindred played on his mind - certainly because he remembered full-well having her fangs stuck into his own neck not so long ago - but that wasn't a discussion to be had now, and it was something Nora was clearly already paying for. He doubted she needed to talk about it as well. With no subtle method to go about this, no way to ease Nora in somehow, Sullivan opted not to make an attempt on that. Instead, he pressed his lips to her bloody cheek, and twangs of his accent waved his voice through the air again, trying to occupy her mind and his own as he worked up the nerve, "Ye've still got me, whatever happens." Deciding that he couldn't back down after pushing the issue, and that making Nora wait any longer was merely another brand of torture, he spun her to face the mirror, the grim reflection of her back revealing a vision infinitely worse as it spun out of sight. It was awful knowing she had to live with the knowledge of this - spindly, twig-like limbs, paper-thin skin with a webbing of black, shrivelled veins wrapped tight against atrophied muscle and slender bone. Her face... It was still hers, even still beautiful in a manner unnatural - even in comparison to the usual Kindred state. But it was well and truly dead. He wished he hadn't pushed this. Without thinking, his whispers struck the air, an echo of his comments not two nights ago - and not nearly as good-humoured as they had been then, "Mary, mother o' God ye've lived one hell of a life... " Edited by Sullivan, Monday, 8. August 2011, 19:01.
|
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Sunday, 21. August 2011, 11:08 Post #14 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Nora felt the grip on her shoulders and shut her eyes as he began to spin her around. Part of her tried to resist his force, but she had to face this, try as she might to avoid it all together, she had to look her enemy in the mirror and put her will down with an iron fist. As he turned her into plain view, he'd see a shell of who she was the day she died; a young girl with almost translucent, parchment like skin stretched over thin bones and wasted sinew. Her veins made a mosaic across her arms, chest, and face like a spiderweb. Her face was sharper, her cheek bones more defined and her doe eyes sunken and a cloudy, glazed over blue. Her dark, wilted locks hung limply, framing her face and making her look all the more a hellish angel. Two rigid gashes decorated her throat, rusty rivers and planes of dried blood running down her chest and down the valley between her breasts. A constant reminder of her unbirth. Nora chewed on her bottom lip, her hands shakily found his as she forced her eyes open with a metaphorical crow bar. She stared at herself blankly for a few long, agonizing moments before she found herself drifting closer to herself, a shaky hand brushing the curls out of her face and revealing a once healing laceration on her cheek, now torn and flayed with exposed muscle and bone, "I got this the night that I died... You know, if Vry hadn't gotten his way, I'd be a shadow instead of an animal. He told me to wear this and always be reminded that I'd never again be the prey, but the predator with a hunger to rip..." She brushed her fingertips with a feather touch over the gaping wound, but felt nothing but smooth skin. She looked at her fingers, still clean and healthy. The woman that stared back at her said otherwise. "He always said I was made of things stronger then him... I never understood it until now. I miss that man so much, but he'd end me if we ever crossed paths again for what I've done... The love he and I have for each other is as strong as the hate. I'll never forgive him for taking everything I could have had, but I'll never be able to properly thank him for what he gave me in return." She looked down to her torso, seeing how thin, yet defined her waist and hips were despite her deathly nature. Something told her she was rotting from the inside out. She could feel it just from looking at it, and it was eating her alive. She let a rather hesitant hand wander to the hem of her cami as she slowly lifted her shirt up, finding something she never wanted to see again. Beneath her bare bust was an open cavity in her chest, ribs and decaying muscle exposed to the open air and to her sheer terror and disgust, festered with maggots. She felt them inside of her upon sight, slowly eating her away piece by dead, rotting piece. An audible gasp escaped her cold, blue lips. Her hands hovered in shock, afraid to touch it or even let a tremor bring them any closer. Tears fell almost instantly, fearful and regretting as her hands slowly fells to her stomach, "I can feel them..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, "I want them out... Get them out..." She looked at her hands, studying her now very lethal claws with some disbelief, as if they'd unsheathed themselves upon instinct. She looked back to the maggots that filled her gaping chest cavity, and without a second thought began digging them out, cutting through flesh and muscle and tearing herself apart without notice or fail. She couldn't get them out though, still feasting on her insides like a Chinese buffet. "I can't get them out! God damn it!" She moaned as she clawed herself deeper and deeper, scraping bone and ripping through herself with no doubt that she was really infested with these hunger driven vermin. She wrenched herself out of Sullivan's grip and curled into herself, digging and scraping with no signs of stopping. If she didn't stop though, there'd be nothing left of her. |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Tuesday, 30. August 2011, 09:30 Post #15 |
|
Ancilla
|
The sudden changed in Nora threw Sullivan for a loop. He'd seen her angry at others - hell, he seen her angry at him specifically - but he'd never thought of her as the kind to tear into herself. He had seen the gore that the mirror had showed her, the wounds - and the grotesque, fetid cavity in which the maggots and worms dwelled. But unlike Nora, this effect didn't engender fear in him - and so he saw what he saw, and mirrors or maggots be damned he believed only in what he knew for certain. He knew for certain Nora had a lot of damage to work through one day - some, she may never get rid of completely. But she deserved to live her unlife free of some of it - if he had to see to it personally that she got the chance, it was the least he could do after she'd taken his wandering, aimless corpse and turned it into a whole person again. In that moment, he shifted across the floor like a silent, rapid shadow across the wall, wrapping strong fleshy fists around Nora's wrists. With a grip so tight it whitened the knuckles even further than the norm, Sullivan brought her hands away from the deep bloody trough Nora was carving out of her stomach. Keeping them there was not so easy, as Nora's desparate need to remove whatever phantom creatures nestled in her body drove her powerfully, and even when not enraged she had her fair share of strength. It was only by forcing her down onto the floor and pinning her arms down upon it that he held her, his legs astride the deeply wounded torso while his brawny arms held the clawed, raking hands firmly. She would struggle, as she had before - but he knew how she acted when doing so, and was prepared for it this time. His voice like gravel and sawdust rattling around in a tin can, Sullivan growled in an authorative tone, "Nora! They're not there! The cut on yer head, the wound in yer belly... They aren't there. Ye can't believe what ye see in mirrors, not when ye're one of us." As if to prove a point, he moved his arm between her claw-bearing left had and stroked a thumb across her cheek where the deep cut had been, "Nothin' but smooth skin. Trust me, Nora - I won't lie to ye. We already established that I can't, I won't waste either of our time trying again." Sullivan hated knowing what he was about to do would mean. He felt his blood boil against his own actions even as he moved his throat closer. He had begun to process the implications of their actions the night before, and he wasn't happy with what they'd done to one another - well, not entirely. Feeding on each other could only result in a blood bond, and he hated feeling that pressure to love and cherish somebody so completely, irrespective of whether he wanted to this time or not. But to heal the wounds of her own clasw, Nora would need to blood to burn. "Go on - drink. I can feed a little later on - after I've taken the mirror to a dumpster somewhere. Ye need the extra juice if we're to deal with that little mess." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Friday, 2. September 2011, 04:27 Post #16 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Nora was hunched over on the floor, her face pressed hard against cold hardwood and her hands buried inside the ravaged cavity that was once her torso. She screamed angrily, wept, started praying to God under her ragged breaths to make it stop. She was detached from everything around her; any semblance of sanity she may have had before was gone now. She felt herself caving, an empty void filling the hallow of her body. She couldn't fight anymore, couldn't stand to look at herself again. Strong hands pulled her away from the comfort of the solid flooring beneath her. She was laying on her back now, slowly being stretched and pinned beneath Sullivan's weight. Her muscles were stiff and rigid, she couldn't see anything beyond the haze of dried blood clumping to her eye lids and lashes. She shook her head violently back and forth, a dull buzzing taking over her thoughts as his voice seemed to fade into the abyss. If she strained her ears, it was almost as if she heard a choir of angels singing hymns of hate. She felt his thumb gently stroke her cheek, flinching at his feather-soft touch for only a moment until she opened her eyes and looked up to him. Seeing his face seemed to make everything else that had shaken her world and broken it into pieces fall away...was this really what she thought it was? She stared up to him for what seemed like an eternity, the fear in her gaze slowly subsiding to mere aftershock. She began to relax in his grasp, feeling his weight upon her somehow made taking in her surroundings and surfacing to reality easier. He lowered his neck closer to her quivering lips, urging her to sink her teeth in and drink, but she could smell the disdain he was forcing himself through. She shook her head again and whimpered as she buried her face into the crook of his arm. "I don't want to make that mistake again..." her voice was hitched and unstable, unreasonably high pitched and hoarse, "I don't wanna lose you..." |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Friday, 2. September 2011, 23:56 Post #17 |
|
Ancilla
|
Sullivan breathed in relief as Nora's face thudded into his arm - both from the fact that she didn't drink from him and that she was more 'together' than the woman he'd seen tearing her guts out. He shifted himself aside of her, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The Irishman had thought that maybe this was something he could help with, something he could provide an answer to... But it wasn't. Much like the nightmares of Alasdair each night... It was just something that was as it was, for now until the bitter end. He just counted himself lucky that his nightmares went away each hour he spent awake. His hands found the side of Nora's head and his fingers entwined themselves in Nora's locks, the smile on his face a concerned one - he still had to somehow get from here to the fridge, and he didn't think Nora was in the mood for stupid questions like 'can you walk alright?' after that episode. "Listen," He began, not really knowing where he was going with this, "I've never been through a lot of what you have. Let's not dance around the subject - ye just have more issues tap-tap-tappin' at ye fer all different reasons. Now, I said 'whatever happens, ye've still got me.' We both know I can't lie, Nora. I got just as much hatred fer what's happened ta me, but it doesn't haunt me like it does you. So when it gets too much, let me take on the extra - 'cause ye know I can handle it." He leaned down and kissed the top of Nora's head, whispering into her ear while trying very hard not to poke her with unruly stubble, "Look, there's one last bag o' blood in the fridge. After this, we gotta hunt fer a bit while I build up the funds ta get another month's supply. If ye lean yerself on the bed, I'll go get it, an' we'll cover the mirror up. If we tie the cover on just incase, ye can help me trash it - I'll just hafta trust yer fashion sense and hair tips instead o' seein' how it looks fer meself, huh?" He squeezed her shoulders gently - Sullivan couldn't say for certain how much more delicate Nora was at the moment - physically as well as emotionally. She had less holding her together, even as she lay against him, and he wasn't willing to even embrace her too hard until he knew for certain she'd be alright. Perhaps this was what she had tried to warned him of, the reason she'd been so keen to scare him off last night on the roof. Perhaps he should've listened. But Sullivan was hip-deep and sinking fast - what was done was done. The fact that he was okay with that spoke volumes about them both, he suspected. |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Sunday, 4. September 2011, 19:49 Post #18 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
She watched him as he walked away, all worried smiles and unsure emotions. She stayed on the floor, struggling for a few minutes to sit up against the bed. There she sat, looking down to the gaping hole in her abdomen and all the blood splattered and running down her thighs and calves. She looked like she just walked off a set from Saw, but Jigsaw wasn't responsible for this mess... she did this to herself with her own two hands. As much as the thought disturbed her, that she did this to herself, part of her was convinced she deserved it. She didn't feel pain now...only relief that it was over. So there she sat, by herself in the middle of a foreign bedroom she'd spent more time in then her own, poking her large intestine and playing with a fractured rib that hadn't entirely snapped off yet. Moments later, a bag of blood was hanging in front of her face. She looked at it with little interest before looking up to Sullivan and smiling weakly, "Thank you, lover.." she said, barely above a whisper. She stared at the bag of vitae in her hands blankly for a few moments before glancing back up to him and finally jabbing her thumbnail into the plastic and sucking from the hole. It tasted like nothing. Made her feel like nothing more then a needy, self-destructive fiend. Nora continued to idly mess with her innards and bones as if it were child's play. It took almost an hour before she was completely healed, and another hour after that was spent feverishly scrubbing all the dried blood off her skin and out of her hair. She drifted through the apartment silently, staring at the smeared pool of blood on the floor from her perch on the bed as she towel-dried her hair. The mirror still hung ominously on the wall; she glared at it as if it were a woman eyeing what was rightfully hers. She got to her feet, opening the window in the bedroom without a word before speedily yanking the vile piece of glass off the wall and flinging it into the alley below with all the strength she could muster. A smile finally formed on her face as she listened to it hit the pavement and shatter into a million jagged pieces. Leaving the room and returning shortly with a large bowl of hot water and a rag, she got on her knees and went to work on cleaning up the mess on the floor, "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Sullivan. Did I ever tell you I'm a licensed tattoo artist?... Or that I own three parlors, soon to be four? I'm a Libra, my middle name is Rosalie, and my mother died from Huntington's disease when I was 16. I was in my second year of college at the University of London when I died; I was studying English...I wanted to be a writer, like my mother. I wanted to get married, and have children...but I was too scared to put them through the same pain I went through with my mum...God in Heaven, I loved her. She was the only one I had. My father was never around during my childhood; only came back when he heard she was finally dying... I carried the same gene she did, and I would've met the same fate..." She stopped before she let her feelings get ahead of her, "...I made the best Thai pizza known to man, and as much as I hate the person I was when I was in the ranks, I miss it... that pack was more like a family to me then my own blood." She finally looked up to Sullivan still wiping the blood off the floor, "I say all this because despite everything you've done for me, you still don't know me that well...and I've fallen for you. I know next to nothing about you, but I've fallen for you... I don't know if this is a good thing or bad, but just know that funds aren't an issue... I'll do whatever I can for you, as you've done so much more for me..." She didn't know what else to say to him. She felt like she was holding him back, or doing more harm then good for him. How could he possibly want to be with her after all this? She didn't even want to be left alone with her own thoughts, let alone face them. She was as perplexed by the man before as she was in love with him. |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| Sullivan | Tuesday, 6. September 2011, 18:37 Post #19 |
|
Ancilla
|
Sullivan had dressed in the time it had taken for Nora to heal and clean herself up, his tattered but beloved coat swooping from his shoulders in a manner best described as comfortably sinister. As much as he loved it just because it had been his father's, it was just the tool for the job of keeping drunks - other drunks, anyway - out of his way. Now, he didn't wear it for what it did - it was just nice having something that was only his to bear, the reminder that he wasn't a man but a nightmare was his problem to fix and his alone. He was willing to hold firm to being Nora's support because he felt as if that was where he should be... But it was nice to know which problems he took on by choice and which were his own bloody fault. The information Nora reeled off was not quite shocking - interesting, certainly, but shocking was the wrong word. Shocking was finding out your spouse was a serial killer. This stuff... Wel, she was right. He didn't know her that well. It was refreshing for somebody to just come right out and say so than to lie and pretend at some kind of bond shared that had never been there. So, he listened as she made her case, and he made his mental notes - her middle name was beautiful, which he resolved to make mention of later. The fact that she had a regular income was something that he supposed in a practical sense was nice, but he wasn't keen on the idea of relying upon Nora for money. Relying on anybody for anything seemed too close to his twisted bond to Alasdair... Even if he supposed he already did rely on Nora for some things. Even as he sat and listened, the Irishman had no words that would accurately convey how similar he felt, how he had fallen so hard and so quickly - or how he suspected the influence of their beginning to blood bond, and yet didn't care. Just like all the best hypocrits throughout history, this time it was different - it didn't matter how. He opened his mouth to speak, at first pausing without any clues as to what he would say, and then deciding that whichever words came first would have to do, "I, um... I never went to University. My Da marched off to the first Great War, so me an' Mam lived in constant fear o' the postman an' whatever black letters he brought in his hands. Bag o' Death, Mam called it once. I'd just about gotten to like me Da - I was about three or so - when the letter came. Musta cried fer days - even if I hated tha smell, knowin' there'd never be the thick smell o' cigars in tha house again, knowin' I'd never go fishin' with me Da like the other kids... Screwed me up fer years. I mean, the whole village came to the funeral, an I remember thinkin' how bloody cheeky they were - who gave them the right ta come here and grieve fer my Da?" He chuckled, and fidgeted his fingers nervously through his hair - the last time he'd said anything of this, it had been to Alasdair. It wasn't beyond him - much as he wished it was - to feel a little uncomfortable doing it again. "So I ended up a problem child, as ye do. Teens were alright, I guess - joined the boxin' club, did tha whole 'town tough kid' bit. My Sire found me after I beat the local favourite, took me on as a fighter and took me here. From about... 1928 ta 1933 I was runnin' the indy boxin' circuit. Got meself a little bit o' fame and a little bit too much violence - Alasdair decided I was ready. After that, well... Sabbat business all tha way fer around forty-fifty years. I think, anyway - it gets hazy after this long." Shuffling himself next to Nora on the floor, Sullivan smiled warmly - not a small feat for a man as long-dead as he was - and spoke, the regret in his eyes trailing down into his grin a little, "Fer now, I'd rather not talk details. Ye know the Sword - it doesn't change. At some point, we can go over this if you want to... But I think we've enough blood to deal with in the present. Ya want a hand?" |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Thursday, 24. November 2011, 04:59 Post #20 |
![]()
Rebel With a Cause
|
Nora listened tentatively as he spoke... there was something in his voice. Discomfort? Most likely. Unease? Surely. It seemed she had a knack for striking a nerve in him at the worst times possible. She felt him move closer to her, the look in his eyes silently pleading her to change the subject. She smiled softly to him, dropping the bloodstained towel on the floor and rising out of her hunched position to truly look at him. Her fingertips grazed his jaw, pulling his mouth closer to hers as she kissed him longingly and fell into his arms. If she weren't writhing in a pool of her own blood, it was almost romantic how passionate she felt in those moments that their lips were locked together like magnets. Finally pulling away, she surveyed the mess on the floor that was demanding her attention. For having only known each other less then a week, she left a lot of her own blood behind to remind him she'd been here... This place would be too hot to call safe before long. "I think..." She looked to him again, falling short of words as her train of thought skidded to a halt. They didn't have many options at this point. No one had followed them here... yet. It was only a matter of time before one of them slipped up and lead unwanted attention to their front door. While living apart in separate havens away from each other was probably the smartest idea that crossed her mind, it was definitely not her first choice. For whatever reason, Nora found herself seemingly addicted to this man before her. She couldn't figure whether it was the twang of his accent or the familiar, comforting scent that followed him everywhere he went, but whatever it was, he had her hook, line, and sinker. There was always Vry's old haven in Chelsea...if she remembered right. It had to have been at least 15 years since she'd last sank into the earth and dropped into it's homey expanses, but it was always worth a try... it was the safest place she could think of at this point. Taking a slow, calculated breath, she looked back to him again, trying to go somewhere with the statement she had already started, "I think we ought to think about leaving soon...whether we stay together or go our separate ways. Too much blood's been spilled here to call it safe, and that's my fault..." She finally pulled away and went back to mopping up the mess on the floor, refusing to look at him as she made her final offer, "Don't think you have an obligation to stay with me just because we're kin... I know I'm a mess, but I've managed on my own for a surprisingly long time... I can do it again. This is your easy out... Take it or leave it, but if you take it, do so in the next five minutes. I'm going to finish cleaning up here and go hunting." She stated it with as little emotion as possible, avoiding eye contact as much as possible as she got up and fetched more water... water and bleach. |
![]() We Salute You | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · The Borough of Enfield · Next Topic » |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2









2:02 AM Jul 11