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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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 Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2014 9:13 pm
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
She was most displeased, that alone was the only reason a smile crept to his features like the flicker of a flame before it shrouded amongst the shadows as if it had never even been there. From the very start, her patience began to dwindle. It was a short enough fuse let alone without his instigation to fan the flame. It were times like these that he so neurotically pondered his mental stability; is masochistic an actual psychosis? And did it even stop there? No. Of course not, that would have been too easy. He's disillusioned himself in his own self-grandeur and with a supposed god-complex to top it all off. He wanted to laugh, or at least, a part of him hadβthe desperationβjust to laugh it all off in her face. To pretend he was on top, to lie. Lie, lie, lie, the impulse was like an itch in the back of his head buried deep into the brain.
He breathed, slow and steady, it seemed to be the only focus of his attention. She was studying him, he could feel it. Remington could only begin to guess at the jealous insecurities and crooked accusations she dare to cast at him in that glass house mind. She had every right, he would never admit it, but he supposed it was true. He hooked metal through flesh and strung her up high like the marionette puppet he'd always dreamed of. Too bad he couldn't just lock her up in the doll house again, stranded on the island. If only, if only,... None of this would have happened; the harlot would never touch another man and he could content himself in that delight knowing what was his remained his, and no one else's. He stiffened at the thought and dared to steal a glance. Her utterance was spiteful; a 'just because' and 'you made me' all in one. He decidedly remained mute on the fact that she was the elder of the two. Callidora's eyes were dark, black and cruel. He glared. How dare she. Visibly tensed, Remington snorted harshly under his breath and shook his head incredulously. He veered away again and sought out the broken promises at the bottom of his cup. He didn't respond; he wouldn't give her that satisfaction. Instead, he draped an arm across his chest in defense, elbow propped against his wrist to dangle the glass of crystal between his fingers.
She marched back to her seat like a bad habit. Callidora crossed her legs, Remington quirked a brow. It was like clockwork. Impassive and cool, he meant her frozen stance with innocence, batted dark eyelashes and impaled her with those eyes of gold. He never cut her off, but he thought to. It almost dared to seep through. He should have been angry, but he laughed, raw and vengeful. βWell, I differ; I'd very much like to continue this conversation,β he said cheekily. βYou're quite right, of course.β He dawdled, shook the last sliver of amber liquid around in his square glass. βYou've never promised otherwise, nor I ever asked of you. But you wound me Callidora, my curiosity is nothing but healthy.β It was too late now, he didn't know what would come next but he knew he couldn't stop. βYou can be quite careless, you should know,β he mused with a wicked smile. βBut you certainly have a type,β he waved his glass in cheer to her, drowned its last drop before the sound of trickling water had refilled his glass with a silent incantation. βYou should be so very proud of yourself, dear. As it so happens, I'm quite proud of myself too,β his voice rung with a sarcastic glee. βI've remained faithfulβI couldn't tell you whyβbut I have.β A toothy, carnivorous smile whipped across his lips. βMaybe it was for this exact moment so I could see that bloody look on your face, maybe I've just gone mad, though I do believe the latter would be true even regardless, and yet...β He shook his head slowly, words drifted into nothing as he tried to find the perfect way. A part of him knew he was rambling for the sake of not having to sit there, and smile, and pretend that it all meant nothing to him. βI suppose I must be mad,β he laughed halfheartedly sloshed his drink around and fixated her with that viperous stare.
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
44 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2014 11:03 pm
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at the Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Amused
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β Oh, as if I'm to blame... β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
A ring around the roses; β β βxxx
Everybody poses β β βxxxxxx
Threats and then backs down β β βxxxxxxxxx
The second you put clothes on. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceCallidora's eyes narrowed as he spoke, jaw tightening until a tic started to twitch, a single eyebrow raising. She didn't care if he wanted to continue the conversation, because she was quite certain she didn't want to hear a word the man had to say. She could only imagine what had caused him to ask in the first place... perhaps her jealousy had reminded him of his own, perhaps he'd decided, for whatever reason, he was tired of pretending he didn't know. Fine, then. She didn't particularly care. But he couldn't shut her out, couldn't. She refused. Because dammit, he knew her secrets, knew everything, and if he shut her out... she'd be lost. When the Tempests died, she'd have money, sure, plenty to pay off anyone who would speak... but Remington was a vengeful, spiteful man. No amount of money was worth more to him than his pride. Not if it were her money, anyway. She wanted him, yes, which was rather convenient considering how badly she needed him. She'd never admit to it, she'd take it to her grave. But... the fact remained that if he grew tired of her, if he truly was sick of her... he could end her, in a way that would be much more unpleasant than death. Perhaps that was why she'd lingered, why even after he'd nearly strangled her, she stayed... or had returned, at the very least. She had to keep him occupied, keep in what passed for good graces, because otherwise...
spaceIt was only this knowledge that had her stay in her chair, that kept her eyes on him, that made her listen. He wanted to have this conversation, for whatever reason. The only thing more dangerous than having it would be to leave. She did roll her eyes lightly at the idea that because he'd discovered her, she'd been careless. She'd never bothered to try hiding it, really. She wanted to drag their name through the mud, if for no other reason than because she could. After her own had been so perfectly ruined, she relished doing the same, particularly to a pair as awful as Edgar and Lenore. Perhaps she had been careless... but that had been by design. Besides, so long as she supplied the rumor mill with plenty to wag their tongues, it was unlikely that they would look further. Callidora Tempest's sudden reappearance had caused quite a stir, and had she been what her 'parents' expected, she had no doubt they'd have all been found out somehow. Better to hide in plain sight, she knew... so, she let the rumors fly, and gave them plenty to talk about. Whatever type he thought she had, she didn't know. She supposed it had something to do with dark hair and arrogance; both Wesley and Remington had it in spades, and she had thought her husband handsome, once upon a time.
spaceHer hand around the crystal glass tightened; he'd what? ...The man didn't honestly expect her to believe that, did he? Remington was infamous for affairs, and she just knew that b*****d brat of his wasn't the only one, there had to be more. She'd seen him downstairs, it had bothered him that his new employee didn't find him enticing, and while some men would have simply dropped it... she had no doubt he'd seen it as a challenge, and one he would all too happily take. Her lips at tightened to a thin line, eyes narrowing. What was he playing at? Why would he... what, to make her feel guilty, perhaps? She wasn't going to feel guilty. Whether he had or not (which she highly doubted), they'd never made any promises to one another. Never had there been any indication that they might be only with each other, and really, what did she have to gain from it, other than being in his control? But, of course, that was right where he wanted her, so of course he would try to make her remain faithful to him, thinking he would do the same. She might wish it, but she wasn't a fool. "I'm quite certain you're mad, dear, though I fail to see what that has to do with who you take to your bed," she told him, frowning as she did so. She wouldn't accuse him of lying, that would be foolish. The anger it would provoke would be entirely of the wrong sort. But, she didn't know what to do without forcing him to admit to the lie...
spaceDamn. She was trapped. That was his game. She could either invite his rage at her accusation, or... she could play at believing him and try to make amends. She wondered if he wanted her to beg... she had begged him, once. She'd been so desperate... as she was now. But, she wouldn't make the same mistake. She wouldn't cry, wouldn't tell her she needed him. Last time she had, she'd been trapped. She wouldn't be trapped again, not like that. Whatever way he ensnared her through this, it wouldn't matter, it would be better than sitting in that house, alone, for days, weeks on end, waiting for him to have time for her. She might have to give up her other lovers... but then, the only hardship there was that she would be his, completely. She enjoyed him far more than any of them, after all. She hated this power he had... but she'd been the one to give it to him. Now she had to suffer the consequences. She sighed, lightly, hoping to at least look as though this very act didn't feel like she was selling her soul. "You could have said something, you know. I rather thought you didn't care... and that you didn't have time. It certainly seemed that way when you locked me up," she told him, knowing that the accusation would likely anger him, but not more so than if she'd said he was lying. He did so hate to be caught. "I only took them to kill the time you left me with, time I assumed you were spending on other... pursuits. But, if you're inclined not to share, you need only say so. I was under the assumption I was having to do the same... as I said, I didn't care to know. You'll forgive me for feeling thus; you do know how fragile my ego can be. We both know that I wouldn't have taken well to that truth had it been spoken aloud." A true enough statement; Callidora had blatantly avoided knowing anything of his secrets, simply because yes, she was a vain thing, and the idea that he might have another woman when he could have her was enraging. She could ignore it, so long as the women didn't have names, faces. And, it seemed they would remain thus, if he wanted to carry on this ridiculous charade. He could, too, she knew. She was stuck, she couldn't leave, couldn't call him on it. Had to do everything exactly as he pleased. The feeling of entrapment made her sick, but it was still better tan before. She kept telling herself that, that this was better, it could be so, so much worse. It was only fear of that which made her willing to play along. Her hands were tied, so long as she wanted to stay with him... and she did want to. She told herself it was only because she enjoyed him, but the lie tasted sour in her mouth, though she hadn't spoken it aloud. He had warped her, twisted her, so that even as she feared him, she craved him... wanted him. She wouldn't leave. She couldn't.
space"Say the word, darling, and I'm all yours."
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β A ring around the roses;
xxxxxxβ β β Everybody knows it.
xxxxxxxxxβ β β I will sing your fears
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β If you sing my neurosis.
 (( OOC: )) ...
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2014 8:03 pm
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
He remained still as stone; impassive. Remington seemed to be waiting for the words that would never come. His finger tapped incessantly against his glass, the mark of his impatience echoed loudly amidst the silence. The golden regality clung to his bones with loose skin, withered and tarnished. She did not believe him, that much, he was sure of. Remington should not have been surprised, if in the least, he should have expected it (and more.) But to be completely honest, he didn't know what to expect. He hadn't planned this; hadn't lain on his bed until the dawning hour to contemplate every possibility. Propriety shot out the window, Remington felt thin and transparent. It was hard not to gasp at the realization. Suffocation mutilated the flow of oxygen to the brain, coherent decisions, much like his vision, had gone all but black. His life had always been intricate, layers and layers of schematics, of detail, of precision. But this was raw, he wasn't used to this. It bled to give life into a ferocious monster deep within. The shake of his glass was tested, the contents begging to spill just over the rim and stain whatever it could touch. He seemed less pleased as she dipped a toe in, tested the waters, so to say, and they were frozen.
He could see the gray storm overcast in her eyes, shrouded by doubt and defeat. He didn't believe it. It was a ploy, a plot, a card up her sleeve that she'd been saving for this particularly rainy day. It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if she had had this speech already practiced and poised to perfection, just in case. But he maintained the steady rhythm of breath, subdued the throb in his vein and painted on a brittle smile, tempered by the years. There was, however, a distinct sense of dismay alerted in her shrunken pupils and the curve of her lips. It could be from this disastrous plan gone awry, but Callidora had always been an impulsive woman. She'd never shown much foresight into anything other than her romantic pursuits, and even then.... Bloody hell... βNo.β He said loudly, louder than he had intended anyway. But this time, he was much more tame, βno.β
He closed his eyes for a second, her last words still ringing in his ear, and stowed his glass upon a nearby coffee table. Long legs glided around the room, muffled steps against the rug. His breeze drifted gently as he sauntered behind the chair that Callidora had stolen as her own, stepped up close and stood high over her. Both hands drifted down in one fluid motion to perch upon her shoulders tenderly. βI won't make you.β He said simply, his thumbs pressed into the muscles and caressed slowly, easing the knots he knew were there. βI know you don't believe me.β He frowned at that, comforted by the fact that she couldn't see him. βBut I'll prove it.β He didn't quite seem all there. And in a sense, he wasn't. He didn't know why it mattered so much, this need to validate himself. With all five fingers now, he worked to smooth the tension over in her neck and shoulder. βAnd then you will be mine because you want it, not because I decreed it.β He stated it so ethereally simple, as if it were set in stone, as if nothing else would ever happen. And it was true, to a point. She would come around, and her wild days would end once again and for the next eighteen years. On Heaven and Hell... Remington was sure of it.
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
44 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 10:40 pm
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at the Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Amused
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β Oh, as if I'm to blame... β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
A ring around the roses; β β βxxx
Everybody poses β β βxxxxxx
Threats and then backs down β β βxxxxxxxxx
The second you put clothes on. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceThe no that fell from his lips made her heart leap into her throat. Storm-grey eyes widened, not enough for most to notice, just a hair, and her shoulders stiffened. Her hand, still holding the glass, tightened, along with her jaw. What did he mean, no, exactly? He'd sounded almost angry, the first had been more a bark than a word. The second was calmer, which only served to worry her more, because hell, didn't they always end up yelling at one another? He was far more frightening when he made an effort to stay calm. She could never guess what he was thinking in those instances (though, she had to admit, she hardly had more luck with that any other time). Though she tried not to show it, she was more than a bit terrified. Whatever angle he was working, she couldn't imagine. She'd basically handed herself to him on a silver platter and he'd turned her down. Was he sick of her, then? Done with her? Had she finally crossed some invisible line?
spaceI won't make you. The words hung in the air, confusing her more than anything he'd ever said. His hands on her shoulders almost made her flinch, but she squashed the urge before her body could act on it. She was far too in control of her own reactions for such an obvious show of what was going on in her head. His voice was too soft, his words almost... tender. She didn't know what to do with this. They were not tender with one another, ever. There was no affection between them, not really. It was all just... convenient. Moreso for him, of course, she rather hated that he basically owned her, body and soul, but then, the alternative was more than enough to make her accept it. She rarely bothered to fight against his hold, knowing that there were worse places to be. But... she had no way of processing this. He was playing a game, it was all a game to him, it was always a game. The trouble was, she'd never seen him play this hand before. She'd given him exactly what he'd wanted, or what she'd thought he wanted, had sworn herself to him, and he'd turned it down. Logically, if he didn't want her, he would not be offering to prove that he'd been faithful. But... why, then? Because he wanted her to want him?
spaceThe silence drug on as she tried to think of something to say, some sort of answer or reply, but nothing would come. His hands on her shoulders, working the tension from her back even as his very presence caused it, were both soothing and infuriating. She wanted nothing more than for him to stop, to go away, to let her leave, but she never wanted it to stop. Slowly, a hand reached up and touched his, lightly, and and sighed. "Remington... what do you want from me?" she asked finally. This time, it was her voice that was tired. She couldn't want him and only him. Her precious freedom was nothing but an illusion, she knew it, she did. But it was all she had. If she gave it up, if she looked around her and acknowledged the bars... she would gain nothing. Even if he were faithful to her, what did that give her? He wasn't hers. Would never give himself to her like that. He would control her, and she would have nothing. She silenced the bitter voice within, the one that admitted how badly she wished it were different. She wondered if in another life she could have had him like that... but it was no use to wonder such things. She had to live the life she'd been given, had to live with the choices she'd made. She looked over her shoulder, up at him, with a frown. "You have everything I can give, Remington. My life, my body... what more do you want? It can't be my heart. You'd never care about something so sentimental. And I think we both know I haven't a heart to give. So what is it?" She felt weary of this. He frightened her with this, confused her and made her unsure. Of course, nothing with him was ever certain, but at least it usually made sense. His motivations, his anger and disdain, she could understand the motivation. But this... this made no sense. Why should he care if she wanted to be his? She was, whether she wanted to be or not. Her consent had become a moot point long ago. And yet, he was asking for it... why? Why did it matter? Why couldn't he just take her to his bed, use her the way he always did, the way she liked to be used, and leave it at that? Why did he have to complicate things?
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β A ring around the roses;
xxxxxxβ β β Everybody knows it.
xxxxxxxxxβ β β I will sing your fears
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β If you sing my neurosis.
(( OOC: )) ...
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 1:25 pm
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
He could tell his presence was worming beneath her flesh; riled through the remnants of sanity she clung so desperately to. Her knotted muscles thickened when she tensed, he felt it but could not see. Still in silence his fingers worked diligently, thumbs applied pressure in even strokes as the tips of his fingers circled and smoothed up her shoulders and at the base of her neck. He entertained the thought to strangle her, it would have been simple. But he didn't want that, Remington had never been a man for simplicities. A scrutinizing eye peered down the bridge of his nose, eyed the back of her head up and down and then the profile of her features as she turned to face him. Her fingers were cool against his, made him hesitate until he slowly ceased the massage. A soft voice fluttered free from her lips, but Remington didn't seem to acknowledge. He didn't even so much as move. This labyrinth of smoke and mirrors had made her tired, she couldn't see clearly. But he could. He could also see the desperation the swirled in the iris of her eyes. He stared.
A part of him, for the first time since the day he met her, had wanted to infiltrate her thoughts, wanted to pick apart the meat from the bone just to see what it was that made her tick. He wanted to read those emotions, wanted to hear the thoughts she must be screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a temptation almost too much to resist. But he did. βNo,β he murmured softly in her ear as he eased down closer to drape his arms over hers. βNot your heart...β He was teasing her now. Hot breath trickled down her neck as his lips nipped at the lobe of her ear and gently pulled. For a single stretch of a moment, all he could think was 'this is it, she's going to kill me.'
βI want a son.β He whispered delicately, as if the very notion of the idea was too fragile to conceive. By now, his hands had drifted to that familiar haven just at the base of her pelvis. It had never been discussed before, but Remington was well aware of the complications that would arise. βAn heir.β He explained further, his thumb gently teased the fabric just along her hip bone. He didn't want any son, he wanted hers, a legitimate boy of noble blood. He was going on in years, he hadn't deluded himself of that fact, and quite frankly... He was running out of time. Even if she said no, it wouldn't matter. He had made his notion clear and she should be grateful that he would at least give her the delusion of choice.
He'll never take no for an answer.
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
44 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2014 12:44 am
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at the Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Amused
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β Oh, as if I'm to blame... β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
A ring around the roses; β β βxxx
Everybody poses β β βxxxxxx
Threats and then backs down β β βxxxxxxxxx
The second you put clothes on. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceHis lips at her ear drew a shudder, and her eyes closed. He didn't get to do that, to tell her no and then tease her. For a moment, she was distracted from the path the conversation had taken and back at the start, annoyed at him for turning her down. She was comfortable there, happy there. It was more usual than this strange uncertainty he was filling her with. But, it was short-lived; his hands drifted down, and the words that slipped from his lips made her stiffen. She swallowed, eyes opening, and she felt as though he'd dumped ice water on her. For a moment, all she could do was sit and try to process it. He couldn't be serious, couldn't be asking her for... but he was. Of course he was. Of course he would ask for something so selfish.
spaceShe buried her face in her hand, laughing at him, shaking her head. "Are you done with me, then, Remington? So sick of me that you're ready to be done with it all? But even then, I have to serve some purpose, don't I? You can't just let me go, no, can't just throw me to the wolves. It simply wouldn't be enough..." Her voice fell an octave, unusually low, almost choked. She brushed his hands away from her midriff, and stood, spine straight, fists clenched. "If you're so set on killing me, Remington, I'd much prefer it if you'd just poison me and get it over with. Really, I understand this desire to put me to some actual use before I'm cold in the grave, but be reasonable. Don't act as though you don't know my history. I've had one son, and it nearly killed me. I won't survive a second... which I'm sure you're aware of, aren't you, love?" she looked over her shoulder at him then, eyes cold, frozen over, the only thing that could keep the tears at bay. She wasn't going to cry over this. It was ridiculous. Of all the ways to go... well, she'd long ago admitted to herself that he was probably going to kill her. And that his doing so would probably be preferable to most other ways she could die. But not like this.
space"Honestly, Remington, it wouldn't even be worth your time," she told him coldly, turning to face him properly, crossing her arms in defiance. "I can't carry a babe. It would die as surely as I would. You'd be better off seducing some young chit and knocking her up. It wouldn't even be hard..." Callidora trailed off, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Or, is this for the money? The child would be illegitimate unless we wed. You want to kill me carrying your precious heir and to lay claim to what would've been mine had I lived." She snorted lightly at this. It did rather seem like something he'd think up. Actually, it was a somewhat brilliant plan. She would've been impressed if she'd not been so very sore about the fact that he was evidently planning to kill her. "This is assuming I could even get pregnant, which I doubt. And assuming you're capable of siring a son... hm. Speaking of which, don't you have an heir? Not a proper one, but then, I hadn't thought you'd cling to that particular tradition; you do so love your daughter." A bit of venom here, because dammit if she didn't despise that child. Was jealous of her, which was ridiculous. Callidora knew she'd never been anything to Remington, but still, it cut to have such obvious proof shoved in her face. She'd have never seen the man at all if his daughter had asked him to get rid of her. And now little Sophie wouldn't have to; he'd do it himself. She sighed. Maintaining this image of indifference was wearing thin. She was so tired of it... but what was the alternative? To let him see that she was hurt? Afraid? Never. Perhaps it said something about her that she was more willing to let him kill her than to let him know she cared... but it wasn't as though he did. He'd always had all the power, no need to give him more. She might actually be better off dead.
spaceShe met his gaze, trying to control the emotions within, trying not to let him see... Her act was all she had, after all, the only thing that gave her even the illusion of strength, power, freedom, any of it. Her indifference was her armor... but there were so many cracks in it tonight, and it was so heavy... she just wanted to leave. She'd never before preferred her bed at the Tempest Estate to his. How funny... she'd come for him, had offered to be faithful in spite of the idea turning her stomach, and he'd turned her down, was even chasing from his bed. But, at the same time, there was something intangible holding her here. She couldn't seem to work up the nerve to tell him good-bye. He was done with her, but she couldn't be done with him. She depended on him, needed him... and wanted him, in spite of everything. It almost made her sick that she was so reliant on him... but what could she do? And now, he'd asked something impossible of her, something she couldn't give, even if she'd wanted to. "If this is what you want of me... I don't know what to tell you. You're better off just telling me to leave," she said, hating how the idea that he might actually do it, that he might actually tell her to leave, terrified her. She didn't want to leave, didn't want him to be done with her. She was afraid of what she'd do without him... and even more so of what would happen to her without him to rely on. But if he were done... it wasn't as though she could convince him to keep her. She had nothing to offer that she hadn't already given him. Body and soul... and whatever shred of a heart she might have left. She would deny it, but she knew. He knew. If all she had left to offer was a child... she didn't even have that. It was impossible. It would kill her, and the child that was evidently more important than her. She ground her teeth at that; it didn't even exist, wasn't anything more than an idea in his head, and already, it mattered more than she did. Everything always mattered more than she did... she waited for his dismissal. The conversation was over; what else was there to say? Nothing, except that he was done with her. It would hurt... and she'd be lost. But she couldn't let him see that, now could she?
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β A ring around the roses;
xxxxxxβ β β Everybody knows it.
xxxxxxxxxβ β β I will sing your fears
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β If you sing my neurosis.
(( OOC: )) ...
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 1:00 pm
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
Her laughter was cold, morose, distant, and as a shrill sound it echoed. The feverish pitch was ripe with tormented woe. With buried features, she hid her shame from him but he could still taste it on the fork of his hissing tongue. Shattered accusations plummeted to a low voice Remington couldn't be sure he'd ever heard before, something inherently dangerous. With her back against the wall, could he have expected anything else? Ohβbut he hadβit was entirely true. For almost a fraction of a moment, he thought she'd be ecstatic, relieved even, to finally have what she'd been striving for so long to achieve. It hadn't dawn on him, until just now, just how much Callidora had changed from when once she was Dahlia. A part of him would have liked to think that Dahlia had wanted this, once. But she was hardly the same woman anymore, after all. βCallidora you wound me,β he murmured almost too sweetly to have fallen from his lips.
She didn't seem to listen though, rather, she refused to care. Each of his arms were thrust and she escaped. Every iron born and steeled nerve willed her to fight him, he could see that now. βOf course I'm aware,β he blanched. βYou should know that if I had meant to kill you, it would have been done.β He evened his temper, cooled the hot tempered steel of his voice by dipping it in water pooled on his tongue. The steam of impatience burnt the roof of his mouth. All this time, she hadn't yet turned around to face him. He was left to recollect himself, leaned forward with both hands now poised over the back of the jade leather chair as his fingers dug deep into the cushions. He could see the corner of her eye shift as she turned her gaze towards him, the monster at the foot of the bed. But soon she did turn, the heels of her black pumps swiveled around with arms crossed in defense. Her barrier won't hold, he bet, but he held his tongue between cavernous teeth. Even a drop of blood slid down the back of his throat in hesitation.
So she knew, or rather, she assumed. The money may have led him here, but it was for her he stayed. Even when the risks greatly outweighed the reward, he gladly took them all in stride. It seemed that all he'd done for her was forgotten, or merely dusted up in the back of her mind. He would be sure to remind her. Her snort of dissatisfaction had been indulgent, but entirely ill timed. Her next statements regarding his daughter had left him cross, a black stitch in his eyes of gold marred shadows across the glittering surface. βCallidora,β he warned, the threat evident in his guttural gnarl. It wasn't exactly a well kept secret that his relationship with his daughter had struggled, its ramifications were growing deadly. βDon't insult me.β He glared. βShe's a ******** squib.β Uncouth, yes, maybe even a bit blasΓ© for all the torture it'd caused him. After all this time, he couldn't ever even recall a single instance in which he might have told her, but surely, she had to know? His daughter was twelve, well past any age for being admitted into Hogwarts and yet, she was always home. He wouldn't even allow her attendance to Deliciae. Ever since the beginning it seemed he had always known, and always feared it so.
Leave then, he wanted to bite back. If he had been any other man, he might've dared to strike her blind across her face. But he hadn't. His fingers tensed and dug deeper into the leather of the chair, but otherwise, he hadn't moved. βIf I may,β he began slowly, articulating each and every syllable with a precisely placid countenance. βYou're offended, I hadn't intended that, truly. Callidora, despite what you must think, I do not own you. If you leave, that's entirely your discretion... I won't make you. I've given you your freedom, Dahlia, I mean for you to keep it...β
He tilted his head to one side and blinked, he hadn't even seemed to miss a beat in doing so. βDiamonds, emeralds, or pearls?β The question, he hoped, should be obvious even without stating so. He had wronged her, and his apology always came in four forms, clarity, cut, color, and carat. The more expensive the gem, the more guilt he tried to concede.
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
44 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Fri Oct 10, 2014 5:46 pm
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at Remington's Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Furious
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β He did this somehow, I know it! β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
I would kill to make you feel. β β βxxx
I don't mean kill someone for real; β β βxxxxxx
I couldn't do that, it is wrong. β β βxxxxxxxxx
But I can say it in a song. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceThere was no knock on the door this time, no warning to announce her arrival. Callidora blasted the door open, wand held aloft. It remained on its hinges, a fact for which she wasn't certain if she were thankful or annoyed. She was too furious to think clearly on the matter, and while practicality would tell her that it was probably a good thing that Remington still had a door, she couldn't help but want to have inconvenienced him by blasting the thing off its hinges and into pieces. It wouldn't have made up for his treachery, but it'd have at least made her feel somewhat better... if she were capable of feeling better at the moment. Which, she highly doubted. Of all the things he could have done... and he'd done it, she knew he had. They hadn't spoken of his request for an heir since that day, and she'd been more than happy to leave it in the past. She should have known he wasn't inclined to do the same, that he had something up his sleeve. But she'd trusted him... she was a damned idiot for it.
spaceThe raven-haired woman stepped into the loft with a sneer, fury evident in her eyes. "Remington!" she called, though it was probably unnecessary. He would've heard her rather dramatic entrance. She wasn't one for subtly when she was angry. History should have told her that this was a bad idea, but then, she also wasn't one for logic. One of these days, she was going to get herself killed... she could be forgiven for hoping ever so slightly that it would be today. A quick death by way of his hands or wand seemed infinitely preferable to allowing the spawn he'd sired in her belly to slowly kill her from the inside out. Nine grueling months of carrying the thing, her body growing weaker by the day, the pain, the indignity of it all, only to die birthing the thing... Pregnancy was a curse. She'd done it once before, she had never wanted to do it again. Particularly since the last time, she'd very nearly died, and had been twenty years younger at the time. She didn't even know how Remington had managed to get her pregnant, it'd taken her a decade to conceive the Edgeworth heir. But, there was no question; she'd been to St. Mungo's earlier that day to be sure. Somehow, he'd done it... she would not take this quietly. This betrayal. He said he didn't want her dead... but apparently her life was worth less than the child she now carried. She should have known; he was selfish, after all. As much as she liked to pretend he cared for her, they both knew it was a lie. She was convenient. A tool he could use and nothing more. Everything he'd done for her... the man probably felt like she owed him this, owed it to him to give up her very life so that he could have a proper heir. The thought was maddening... the damned b*****d. She wanted to make him pay... but deep down, she knew there was only one way this would end. Either today by his hand, or in a few months by his child's, she would die. The knowledge did nothing to cool her anger. Rather, it sparked it. Her resignation to the fate he'd handed her did not make her want to fight any less. It was unreasonable, foolish... but he'd proven to her time and time again that she was a fool.
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β And I'm saying it now, I'm saying it so
xxxxxxβ β β Even if you never hear this song,
xxxxxxxxxβ β β Somebody else will know.
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β I just can't explain how good it feels.
(( OOC: )) ...
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Oct 11, 2014 1:44 pm
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
He imbibed slowly, the worn grooves cradled his fingers comfortably on the chalice of lackluster gold. The bitter sting washed down his hoarse throat, cracked and dry, though the bourbon did little to ease its aridity. The piano keys were soft beneath his fingertips, softer than the wooden stool, to be true. The five fingers of his right hand only allowed so much versatility; still, the quavering melody descending in minor key, soft and slow, it pricked chills down his spine. Dim lighting was cast by a hundred candles; red sticks in their gilded holders, white vanilla on the sconces, and on desks and tables were colorful groups with their bases melted together. Unfortunately, the tranquility was quickly broken. A curse erupted, his neck snapped, piano keys screeched, the door slammed and the wall plaster split under the metal knob; he wished it was the first time that happened. Now his fingers were sticky with bourbon and a pinched nerve throbbed in his neckβoh, and not to mentionβ βRemington!ββthat.
Crystal glass echoed against wood as he discarded his glass to mop himself up with a handkerchief. His heart rate jumped, maybe it was the stress, but Remington preferred to chalk it up to his amount of love for this woman. It is love, isn't it? βYes dear?β His voice was soft and even. His head pivoted first, then his torso, then finally tossed one leg over the edge of his piano bench. Brows were pricked to its highest extent and wrinkled with curiosity.
He knew this day would be coming, he'd known it for a very, very long time. Still, it was hard to resist the curl on his lips, that triumphant smile. He didn't think it would all happen so very soon, after all. And she knew. 'Well, she doesn't know what she knows. But she knows.' By the flare of her nostril and the throbbing vein in her temple, she must have found out. But nothing would ruin this for him, not even her. She could scream and insult him until the sun set and dawned again, and it wouldn't even matter. (Although on second thought, it might not be best for the baby.) Oh, how he wished he could have laughed aloud at that. Remington knew better than to risk it, he still had one very important matter left to tackle: the diamond ring. But, good things come to those who wait.
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
45 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Sat Oct 11, 2014 5:53 pm
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at Remington's Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Furious
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β He did this somehow, I know it! β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
I would kill to make you feel. β β βxxx
I don't mean kill someone for real; β β βxxxxxx
I couldn't do that, it is wrong. β β βxxxxxxxxx
But I can say it in a song. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceShe seethed at him, eyes narrowing at his tone. Only then did she notice the room, the atmosphere. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he'd known she was coming, had set the stage. Pretentious b*****d. Everything was an act with him, though, wasn't it? And Merlin knows he couldn't keep his nose out of her business... Actually, now that she considered it, she wouldn't put it past him to've had one of his simpering snakes follow her to the hospital that morning. To've reported back that whatever he'd done to her had worked, that somehow his scheme had been a success. If he had, he would've been expecting her. It wasn't in her nature to wait, after all. She was impatient. It was one of her many flaws, and one he was all-too aware of.
spaceOf course, all the speculation in the world wasn't going to answer her questions, now, was it? And she did want to know; if he were so set on killing her this way, she wanted to know how he'd done it. She'd been so sure it was impossible. That even if she'd wanted to give in, she couldn't. Was incapable of it. Callidora crossed to him, leaning down, hands on his knees, nails digging in deep. She leaned her face in close, eyes staring deep into his, looking for some shred of... she didn't even know. Regret? It wouldn't be so far-fetched to think that perhaps he would regret losing her, even for something he clearly wanted so badly. She refused to think that she might be looking for something else. Her mind whispered to her, told her what she wanted to see, but she ignored it, because it was foolish to hope that he held even a scrap of affection for her. "How?" A single word, hissed through her ruby red lips. The part of her that liked to pretend she held any power over him believed that he'd be a fool to play dumb; she was in too foul a mood to put up with his lies. His treachery was enough; he could at least own up to it. There was a small part of her that wanted to kill him... wouldn't that be perfect? He wanted this child so badly, he'd killed her for it. It seemed only fair... she could kill him, and then the babe would kill her, and if she lived long enough to birth it, it would be an orphan. And they would be dead together, burning in hell while strangers raised their b*****d... it was almost perfect, except that she didn't want to bloody die. Not that he'd left her much choice in the matter.
spaceHer nails dug deeper... she hoped it hurt. She was hurt... he'd hurt her. She hated that she felt this way, that she had any feelings for him whatsoever, particularly ones that made her so weak before him. All day she'd wondered... perhaps if she'd bowed down, perhaps if she'd shown him affection, been less antagonistic, more grateful... perhaps he wouldn't have done this. Would have wanted her enough... the thought weighed heavy on her. Her ego wouldn't have ever allowed it, she knew. After all, what was the point of living if she had to do it from under his bootheel? She'd always been there, of course, but at least he'd let her pretend. That was over now... the silence stretched out, her eyes still searching in his for something. Anything. But, as always, she saw nothing, nothing of him or his thoughts. She'd always been so selfish, never bothering to pay enough attention to the others around her... trying to read him was like studying a dead language. An act, everything was an act... right down to the light in his eyes.
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β And I'm saying it now, I'm saying it so
xxxxxxβ β β Even if you never hear this song,
xxxxxxxxxβ β β Somebody else will know.
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β I just can't explain how good it feels.
(( OOC: )) ...
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Oct 30, 2014 9:54 pm
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
Her rage was cannibalistic, predatory and deadly. Remington's countenance tempered, hardened and hammered as smolten iron and a shielding defense. He was ready for her. But the armor felt heavy on his shoulders, the enchanted breastplate fitted over a dark silken doublet, still, he felt safer with it on. Eyes narrowed by a millisecond as she dared her first step and then each clack afterward snapped louder and fiercer. Each strut of her hip was like a lash of a whip assaulting him, over and over and over again. The lacerations struck his brain and bled into his memories until his vision dyed black. He reigned in his tongue and let the silence sit like a ghost in the room. He imagined thisβherβin this very instance in a thousand ways and a thousand words. But he had never expected just the one.
He held his breath, too tempted to manipulate her with mirrored words and double meanings. She wouldn't stand for it, not now. Dahliaβor would it always be Callidora nowβwould not leave without her answer. An involuntary flinch jerked in his thighs when her nails stabbed deeper. Through the motion, his trousers wrinkled and in more ways than one. Would he be a terrible man if he smiled? Remington was certainly enjoying this far more than he had ever intended too. Because of it, his eyes had softened and his lips finally parted to whisper delicately. From here on out, each word could be another bullet loaded in the chamber. βIt wasn't easy,β he led her on. It was the safest ploy. With silver hooks he baited her and strung her along. βI did it because I love you,β he explained softly, his hands hovered over hers, slid up her arms in a comforting embrace. βYou'll understand one day.β Ethereal, his eyes were far away. He wanted her to believe it so strongly, that much was clear. But, for now it seemed he was content skirting around the answer, dancing farther from her question so that he might not ever have to acknowledge it.
If only that were true.
βDon't stress yourself dear,β he chided her ever so lovingly, if only to strike a nerve with an attack of his own. βPlease,β his vision sharpened then softened, it wasn't often he tossed that word around, if ever. βSit. Be comfortable, let me take care of you.β He hoped it would, if in the least, sway her anger. Make her realize just how lucky she was. How grateful she should be.
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
45 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Mon Nov 03, 2014 1:03 am
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at Remington's Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Furious
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β He did this somehow, I know it! β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
I would kill to make you feel. β β βxxx
I don't mean kill someone for real; β β βxxxxxx
I couldn't do that, it is wrong. β β βxxxxxxxxx
But I can say it in a song. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceCallidora's eyes narrowed; hadn't been easy. Of course it hadn't been easy. Successfully conceiving Damien had taken a decade; she'd been certain by the fifth year that one or both of them had been barren. Tests had revealed that she was the one at fault; her womb wasn't suitable for conception. It was possible, but the chances were slim. The smallest percentage of a chance had been the only reason she and Wesley had continued to try; if the odds were really so low, but it were possible, frequent attempts would eventually yield a success, right? That'd been the thought... and it'd proven true, after ten long, awful years of trying. She thought the strain of it might've been the first crack in their marriage. He'd blamed her, he'd always blamed her... had they cared for one another once? Long ago? Her failure to give him his child for so long would certainly have been reason for their relationship to fail. And when she'd finally conceived... it'd taken everything just to keep from miscarrying, to keep from dying or killing the child before it was to term. Again, her mind whispered, 'And you were younger then,' a spiteful hiss, a knife twisting in her gut.
spaceHis next words registered, ringing hollowly in her ears, echoing in her mind, and her grip loosened, all the tension releasing. She felt like a marionette whose strings had been slackened, the bars that controlled her laid aside. She fell to her knees before him, eyes shadowed. "Love," she repeated, tone hoarse. Of all the lies for him to tell her, he'd had to choose that one, hadn't he? Of all the things he could have said, all the stories he could've concocted, he'd had to say he loved her. That he had done it because he loved her. As if killing her like this could be done out of love for her. She'd allow that love might've had something to do with it... but not for her. Love of himself, love for his daughter, that damnable child who'd proven to be such a disappointment. He liked being a father, she thought, loved that brat more than anything, and she was wrong, broken. Of course he wanted to try again, to get it right. His pride would never allow his only child to be a squib. Why he had to do it this way, she didn't now, but the idea that he would lie to her and say it was because of love for her that he'd done it was almost laughable.
spaceHad she not felt so broken, she might've actually laughed. But she couldn't find the humor in it at the moment. Like a marionette, she thought again. She could feel the strings, could feel where he'd pulled and pushed her about. Deadened eyes stared up into his. "Make me understand now," she whispered, voice cracking. "Tell me the truth... you owe me the truth." Already his b*****d was sapping her strength, making her weak. All her anger had dissipated; she simply didn't have the energy for it. She just wanted him to be honest. And really, what would he lose by telling her? Surely he could see that she was too worn to fight, that she didn't have enough in her to get angry. She wouldn't fight... she just wanted her answer. If she was going to die, shouldn't she get to know why? From his own lips, she wanted to hear it. Wanted him to say that he wanted a child, and that she didn't matter enough for him to care that she'd die giving it to him. She was so very tired of him pretending that she mattered. It just made it hurt more when she realized how very little he cared.
spaceHis command, masked as a request by that one, single word, made her feel like she'd been struck. She knew him well; he only said please to manipulate. To give the illusion of a choice. Take care of her... what would he do? Make sure she was comfortable while he killed her from the inside? Keep her as healthy as possible until her body gave out from the strain? She was just so damned tired. Death had never sounded so very inviting as it did in that instant.
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β And I'm saying it now, I'm saying it so
xxxxxxβ β β Even if you never hear this song,
xxxxxxxxxβ β β Somebody else will know.
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β I just can't explain how good it feels.
(( OOC: )) ...
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2014 10:25 am
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Everywhere I look around I see how everyone aught to be
Every time I see myself I see there's always something wrong with me
πΉππππππππ π±πππππ π΅πππ
π π π π π’ π π π π
The realization had struck a low, bitter blow, the devastation seeped through the cracks of her mask that had once been so beautiful. He saw it for its tarnished reflection now; refurbished, re-gilded, and glossy with the fresh paint of veneer she applied every so oftenβas if the potions and the charms weren't already enough as it is. Nothing would ever be enough, he knew that now, but he hadn't always. The macabre dream was a tale he oft told himself in those sweet, precious moments before sleep, 'They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.' All three of which he swore he saw in her...
Even if he had to make her.
Her crumbling disposition, though certainly humbling, was not well received. If she wouldn't fight him, would she even fight to live? He'd need to give her a reason, it seemed. But that shouldn't be too hard, given the circumstance. He understood the harsh sacrifice she would have to make, and in every way, he intended to requite. βWhat I said is true,β he insisted, βI did it for us.β Remington slid down from his seat to level with her on his knees. βDon't you see?β He whispered, heavy hands engulfing hers to confinement.
βIt was the only way.β He was shaking his head now; he wanted so very much for her to believe. βWhat do you think the Tempests would say, if I told them you were with me? If they even knew.
βThey would let their house burn before giving you all the rights you deserve. But you know that, don't you. Haven't they been waiting for some excuse to ship you off?βAnd then it'd never be the same. It'd be like it was,... back on the island, in hiding.β He paused, bit his tongue to study her lips. Was she going to protest? Would she cry? Scream? βBut they can't now, they can't.
βDon't you want it all?β He asked her, but he knew the answer. Of course she did. She had made that very clear after all these years. βDon't you want to be their rich heiress? Don't you want the perfect life? And would it be so bad to be the woman that finally tamed and tied Remington Nott down after all of these years?β Maybe it was a tad bit unnecessary, but surely that part of her ego was still intact to revel in the enjoyment of his proposal.
βYou don't honestly believe I would let you die, do you?β He chastised her, a bit more playfully than he had meant too, but he didn't want to see her hurting for long.
βSurely my love, even you think better of me than that?β
[OOC: ]
ββββββββββββββββ
45 years old β 6β3β β 172lbs
Home β Office β Islandββββββββββββββββ
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2014 5:44 pm
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βπββπΌβπππ βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ Single... Sort of
Looking Scandalous at Remington's Loft with Remington
xxxFEELINGxxx
Furious
xxxTHINKINGxxx
β He did this somehow, I know it! β βββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
I would kill to make you feel. β β βxxx
I don't mean kill someone for real; β β βxxxxxx
I couldn't do that, it is wrong. β β βxxxxxxxxx
But I can say it in a song. β β βxxxxxxxxxxxx
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
spaceShe didn't know what to make of his movement, of him joining her there on the floor. She still didn't believe him, couldn't believe him. No, she didn't see, how could he expect her to see anything when all he did was hide? Lie? She didn't trust a word that he said, ever. Trusting him had never gotten her anything but pain... and yet, he looked so sincere. She tried to tell herself it was a mask, to remind herself how skilled he was in the art of deceit. But the cracks were there, and he was finding his way in. What would they say, he asked, and she admitted, he was right. When she'd mentioned offhandedly that she'd run into Remington at the bookstore, Edgar had been furious. He'd demanded that she stay away from him. He wasn't to be trusted, he knew too much. He was trouble. Honestly, it'd been the old man's insistence that she stay away that'd led her back to Remington's bed, she'd admit it.
spaceGods, he knew her too well. She tried to remind herself of that fact, that of course he would know exactly what to say, of course he'd know exactly how to touch her, what inflection to use, how to adjust his body language. But he knew all those things, so well, and she was so damned tired, and he was giving her everything she'd ever wanted. His words were like honey, poisoned though it might be, and she couldn't help but hope they were true. That was the thing that did it, that hope. As long as she wanted it to be true, he would have no trouble convincing her it was. And gods, she wanted it to be. He wasn't wrong, after all; Edgar could hardly force her to leave Remington when she carried his child. The scandal that would cause... he'd never allow it. His family name had been drug through the mud quite enough. She managed a light scoff when at the thought that she'd tamed him. Even if she believed everything else, that was one thing she'd never allow herself to be fooled into falling for. Remington was anything but tame; tied down... perhaps. If he wanted to legitimize the child, he'd have to be. But restraints never seemed to hold him back very well.
spaceStill... would that be so bad? After all she'd been through... even if she couldn't have everything she wanted, this was close. And she did think that, maybe, he did love her... as much as he were capable of it. Which wasn't much, true, but then, she wasn't really one to talk. Her jaw tight, she tried to think. The man was arrogant... perhaps too much so. "Remington... regardless of your intentions... it will kill me," she said, a faint sob in her voice. "I... However you planned to prevent that, I... I'd be lying if I said I believed it'd work." Because that was the hitch, wasn't it? She was so close, and had the circumstances been different, it would have been perfect. But they weren't, and it wasn't. Unless the man could work miracles, she wouldn't survive this. Last she checked, miracles could only be performed by angels and gods... and she was fairly certain they were both far from angels. He'd have to make a deal with the devil to keep her alive... and as much as she might believe that he cared, just a little, she doubted very much if he thought she was worth his soul. If he even had one. She was being dramatic, of course; she'd long since stopped believing in any sort of higher power. But it didn't make it any less true.
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
xxxβ β β And I'm saying it now, I'm saying it so
xxxxxxβ β β Even if you never hear this song,
xxxxxxxxxβ β β Somebody else will know.
xxxxxxxxxxxxβ β β I just can't explain how good it feels.
(( OOC: )) ...
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