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A Mysterious Message! A new skin has been added in honor of the season! Also, Brackenridge Manor has opened it's doors! The butler has some words of warning for you. Cordially, Icarus
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| Punishments and self-pity.; ~Invite only~ | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 6 2006, 05:14 PM (592 Views) | |
| Isabella Williams | Jan 6 2006, 05:14 PM Post #1 |
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Jacob was not in there when she arrived, and neither was she. Well, neither was the She that had previously been there. The nekojin's three-day cycle ended at sundown on the third day, and she crossed the twilit campus alone and silent, desolate as memories as recent as fifteen minutes ago filled watering green eyes with horror upon horror. It wasn't just what he had done, but the leaden guilt that settled itself on her lungs, making sure she knew it was entirely her fault. She should have told him, she should have explained. It was stupid, she should have remembered to tell him something so important, but so much had been new lately and she was adjusting and concentrating on so much, and her head was so full that one detail slipped; and this was the consequence. He would be furious when he came back, still, silently like a building thunderstorm, all his anger wasn't released that quickly. He saved it, she realised. He used what was necessary to put her in her place, to reinforce the master/pet relationship, and then he bottled the rest until he needed it, and it stayed inside, one more patch of darkness lurking beneath his skin, feeding him. He would return soon, surely. Angry still, and drunk; or at least, with the slightly looser speech pattern and the warm, softness of breath that his slightly tipsy state always incurred. It made him sharper, if anything. Isabella could handle so little alcohol in comparison. She tried to get changed, every part of her body aching and covered in blood or worse; she managed to tug off the majority of the uniform, and pulled on instead an oversized t-shirt. Exhausted from this, the small girl collapsed against her bed, knees curled into her chest, the shirt stretched and tugged down over her legs, the way her mother always told her not to, threatening that she would stretch and ruin her shirts. Lying alone with no one to hear her, Isabella broke down; crying all she could, until the green spilled out of her eyes and they were wide and red-rimmed, pale and empty, her mouth dry, shoulders still trembling gently. |
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| Leventa | Jan 7 2006, 01:09 AM Post #2 |
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The drinks were a way to steady his train of thought and body. Many people were anything but steady when they pumped that much alcohol into their body, but Jacob had always been different. His mind was always racing with instincts and urges that were not his own, and there were always pressures to deal with. It was like that every single day. The vodka always burned on the way down, a small dose of punishment to add to the pleasure that came soon afterward. It calmed his nerves and his mind, and more often than not it made him more lucid and rational than ever. It took an awful lot of drinks to drop him on his ass. The walk home was filled with a glorious absence of thought, his mind concentrated resolutely on each step that would take him closer to home, and nothing else. When he got to the door he opened it just like he had hundreds of times in the past several weeks, his right hand slipping the key into his pants pocket before shutting it behind him. Jacob could see her there on the bed, her back turned to him, huddled in a tiny ball on her bed. She didn't say anything to him, and he knew without question that she was afraid to speak to him. Jacob leaned his back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest and letting a soft sigh loose from between his pretty, pale red lips. His tie still hung around his neck loosely, and his clothes were still in a state of stylish disarray. He managed to look far better after their fight than she did. "I need to hear something from you before we continue, Isabella. You left me out there to deal with something I didn't properly understand, and you know how much I hate having anything kept from me. I need to hear that you're sorry, Isabella. Tell me." Jacob never called her by her first name unless he was angry, disappointed, or generally unhappy with her, and it was likely that Isabella had noticed this over the past couple of weeks. |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 7 2006, 07:52 AM Post #3 |
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She nodded silently, and turned her head to look at him; her face was white, paler than he'd ever seen her, the skin around her eyes red and puffy, swollen from so much crying. Her eyes had faded from their usual reverent green to a pale mint, all the colour filled up and spilled out of them, washed away with everything else. The shirt was so big it made her look tiny, thin fragile shoulders visible through the wide neckline. It was pale grey, with the white figure of Snoopy across the front; the colour made it obvious that she was still bleeding. Her eyes didn't meet his at first, they stayed around his shoulders - it was safer that way, and she nodded. Realising that there was no other way around it, they wandered wearily up his face until the horrifyingly cold stare of those amethyst eyes. They were like real amethysts; glassy, hard. It startled her and made a lump form in her throat, shuddering at how he could be so calm. But then, it was her fault, wasn't it? Why should he feel guilty? Her mouth opened and it took a few tries to make any sound come out at all, finally she managed, "I'm sorry, Sir." In little more than a whisper. She knew he would want her to explain, but her throat was sore and her voice small, and every inch of her ached and felt filthy and hurting, and she wanted to sleep more than anything else. Surely, that could wait until tomorrow. |
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| Leventa | Jan 7 2006, 04:07 PM Post #4 |
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Jacob was the adult of the pair, the one who was always calm and rational while she was swatting at dangling objects and chasing small scurrying animals. She had endured her punishment, walked back home just as he had told her, and she had even apologized at his prompting. He could leave it at that and just go to sleep, but such actions would only cause resentment to well up inside of her tiny heart. If all of his plans for her were to come into fruition she would have to love him, and know that he in turn loved her. "I accept your apology, Kitten." His eyes, previously sharp and cold, softened with that same lovely warmth that he seemed to have such excellent control over. Jacob moved forward slowly, scooping her up from her bed and walking her into bathroom. He left her sitting on the toilet as he turned on the shower and held his hand out in the spray of water to make sure the temperature was warm enough. It had to be hot, it would help to wash the blood away, soothe her sore muscles, and it would stimulate more blood flow to her injured areas. Once it was warm enough he gently removed her shirt and helped her into the shower, staying fully clothed as the water beat down on them both. He helped her wash herself, being carefully and gentle with her the entire time, and making certain that the act wasn't sexual in the least bit. He was simply taking care of her now, just as he had always promised her that he would. When they were done Jacob absent mindedly kicked off his shoes and shirt, running a towel over his pants just enough to keep it from dripping everywhere, and then he wrapped her up in enough towels to keep a hypothermia patient snug and warm, walking her back to the bed and helping her onto it. He made her a simple glass of hot chocolate in the microwave, one of those that come in the little white powder filled packets, and he handed her the warm mug before sitting down alongside her on the edge of the bed. "It'll make you feel better, you should drink as much as you can." |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 8 2006, 03:52 PM Post #5 |
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She was sat on the bed, her back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. Wrapped snugly in soft, white towels, and those pale watered-down green eyes fixed solemnly downcast. She didn't say anything, but accepted the mug gratefully and took a sip, before yelping slightly, that lil' nose scrunching up. "Hot!" She gave, in explanation. Pursing her lips, she blew across the top to cool it, pausing to sip it again, and then, when the temperature became more pallatable, to take larger gulps. She felt, if anything, a little better now. The hot water had eased the pain somewhat, although every part of her body was purpled with bruises, the blood had washed away. Her lip was still cut, and she sucked on it from time to time, to stop it from trickling down her chin. He was gentle again, his eyes warm and inviting, almost fragrant like lavender. It made her... sleepy... the colour having a soporific effect... The mug slipped from her hands, empty, and her little frame went limp, drifting off into an untroubled sleep. |
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| Leventa | Jan 8 2006, 05:48 PM Post #6 |
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He had slept with her that night after she had fallen asleep, holding her small frame against him in the darkness of the room. Jacob lay awake for more than an hour, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest, and her warm breath whispering across the edge of his left shoulder. He enjoyed the sense of comfort that came from having another warm body next to yours, and he forced himself to fall asleep just a few short minutes later. It was nothing more than a large green field, its landscape dotted here and there with large rolling hills that obscured whole pieces of the horizon beyond. It was a place not unlike hundreds of others scattered across the world, but today it would be special. There was a man in the center of the field, and he was standing perfectly still. He seemed to take no breath as he waited, and the only motion his body created was that of his long black hair whipping back and forth in the wind as it danced with anticipation for what awaited just beyond the horizon. He had once been a normal man, and nothing more than the son of a poor farmer. That had all changed when he found a single shard of metal resting in a field of crops. Soon after, the young boy of 15 had murdered his entire family after deciding that all they really wanted was his rusted shard of metal. He left the farm in flames and ashes, and quested for no less than fifty years, yet he still remained a boy, caught forever in the embrace of that rusted piece of metal, and searching endlessly for the other shards that made up the collective whole. And now, here he stood, waiting for an entire army to come for him. He was deathly thin and frail, his ribs poking out from under his pale white skin, and his eyes had dark rings around them from lack of sleep. His right arm had become something dark and twisted, and was now tipped with a sickening black hand with only four fingers, each one ending in a long curved claw. There was a sword in that particular hand, black as night with a mass of squirming red tentacles at the hilt, searching for more food. It was too large for any normal human being to wield, but the boy hefted it around as if it were light as a feather. The sounds of shouting and rushing horses filled the field, and all at once, hundreds of soldiers flowed over the top of the largest hill. They spilled down towards the boy like a swarm of locust and he simply raised the sword above his head, screaming in a voice that was no longer quite human. It was then that a large eye opened at its center, the same baby blue color as the boys, and it darted around back and forth inside of its socket, staring at the army in what can only be described as voracious hunger. Horses fell to the ground with sickening thuds before crawling back up onto their legs and running away from the battle as fast as they could, some of them dragging their riders behind them as they screamed and fought to free themselves. It was then that Jacob's eyes shot open into the darkness, red and sore as if he had been doing anything other than sleeping for the last few hours. He rolled out of the bed and crumpled onto the floor, dry heaving helplessly until his body was finished reacting to the dream. When it was finally over, he slowly slid up onto his feet walking over to the side of his bed to stare out the window, the dim light from outside slipping between the shades and casting him and a ghostly light. Jacob stood there unmoving for countless minutes, his pulse still racing violently, his chest rising and falling quickly as if to compensate for some exhausting physical labor. He was still dressed in his school slacks, his feet and chest bare as he stood silently. His hair was still partially damp, and it hung across his shoulders like a waterfall of blood. |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 10 2006, 04:18 PM Post #7 |
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He looked more like a ghost than anything else. The dim light that filtered through the curtains doused his skin in a pale sheen, making it pallid and pearlescent. The sheets were crisp white and they crumpled a little as her smaller figure fought its silent way out of them; he must have tucked her in without her noticing, and she ducked out from under the sea of fabric, his figure looming ahead, menacing and curved. She literally draped herself around him, arms looping over his shoulders and crossing at the chest, grasping each alternate wrist in a 'X' formation, and her lips nuzzled into the back of his neck, softly pressing hot, moist kisses against the skin beneath his hair, those bright green eyes dimmed a little from sleep, lined with long, thick dark lashes, that blended against her long cascade of hair. Her hair was long enough to sit on when she was perched upon the bed, and it fell like a section of night, clipped out of the ink black sky. It fell around her shoulders, a little spilling forward over his, mingling against that red and white, and her lips blew warm breath along his neck and against his ear, trailblazing hot little kisses along the lobe. She squeezed tighter; a comfort thing. He always comforted her and took care of her when she was upset or sad, and, granted, the reason she was upset generally had something to do with him. But that was different, it was fair. She deserved it. He took care of her when she was good, and she couldn't ask for more than that. "I'm sorry, Sir," she began softly, just hanging there with her warm body pressed against his back, a comforting presence, "I should have explained. I just forgot, with everything." Perhaps, she thought, he would be understanding. Possibly sympathetic; he himself knew the battle of will over instinct, and it was not something she could fight, simply something that happened. For three days each month she became an animal, and she could no more change it then she could capture the moon. All this she explained to him, along with her previous methods of coping; she would hide from civilisation somewhere rich in vegetation and wild animals, to hunt and be free and out of harm's way for those 3, unruly days. "I guess that there's a lotsa stuff that I don't know about bein' what I am. It's just me." She summoned up one of her sweetest, magpie-bright smiles and gave him a prompt kiss on the cheek, as if to finish the matter. |
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| Leventa | Jan 10 2006, 05:09 PM Post #8 |
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It was dark in the room, just like it always was in the TV shows or movies, the only light in the room coming from a small lamp that hung from the top of the ceiling. It rocked back and forth with some unseen air current or force, making the room all the more intimidating and eerie. Inside the room was a boy. He was sitting at a small metal table in the shape of a square, both the chair and table bolted down securely to the floor. His hair was short and light red, a far more natural color than it would become and free of the white streaks that would permeate his hair in later days. His frame was better filled out than that of his future self, the young body of a healthy boy of ten. His eyes had always been that lovely and entrancing color of amethyst, the sort of color that women had admired and cooed about when he was even younger than he was now. It had only been one day since that dark night, the one that he couldn’t quite remember. Jacob remembered waking in the middle of the night, and then nothing but the dream. In what little he remembered of the dream, it was dark. Not the sort of dark that came from night or even a darkened room. No, this was the sort of darkness that could never exist in any place that light had ever shined. The only sign of life in his dream was the gray outline of a giant eye in the sky, hanging over that darkened abyss of a landscape like some hellish moon. Jacob watched it for what felt like hours, and then it finally blinked. It shed off the gray like a snake throwing off its ugly and pale skin, and the color of the eye began to change until it was just as lavender and beautiful as Jacob’s. He woke up screaming. Yet long after his panicked and childish sounds faded into the warm morning light, nothing stirred to his rescue in the small field trip camp, and neither did his tent mates. When he shoved and prodded their sleeping bags they still didn’t wake, and they all felt cold and hard, their faces frozen perfectly in their moments of sleep. Had Jacob been only a year or two older he might have been terrified at the sight, but young as he still was, the boy was only confused and afraid. When he slipped outside of his tent he found the entire class in the same state, only one of the teachers and students were different. The teachers face was contorted and twisted in a permanent scream, as if it had been strangled free of her mouth just before she was claimed like the rest of them. The student that he found in a similar state of morbid terror was one that had picked on him for the past several months at his new school. He had hated him anyways, and thought that the mournful scream that had caught on his face suited him quite well. It took young Jacob almost an hour to walk in his bedclothes to the small archeological dig that had so briefly entertained his class, and another twenty minutes just to get them to believe him and call the police or his parents. Jacob heard her slip free from her bed, his eyes opening lazily to the sight of the window before him. It took a moment for his mind to slip back into the here and now, and to remember the room he had left behind in his mental wanderings. There was something that he needed, something that had to be found and looked upon for the first time in decades. He didn't know where, but he felt the call of it tugging at his mind in the same corner that the hunger often rose up from. Death. He needed to go into death to find what he was looking for. Jacob leaned against her smaller frame as she wrapped her arms around him, her kisses sending small shudders down his spine. There was some small sense of comfort that came from such simple and affectionate touching. She kissed him not because he had told her to, but because she had wanted to do so. Jacob's hands slid over her own, his head falling forward in a spray of red and white hair. It hung over his fine features like a living veil and made him seem all the more ethereal and unearthly in the pale light of the window. "I need the strength that you give me, Bella. There are so many things that wait for us both, I can feel it." He waited a few moments, allowing his words to sink in before he spoke again. "You need to take me tomorrow, Kitten. I need to see death to find what I am looking for." |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 11 2006, 03:25 PM Post #9 |
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He wanted to go into Death with her? Tomorrow? Those bright green eyes widened themselves a little, and she nibbled along her lowerlip, brows furrowed in that cute, tentatively concentrating way. "Tomorrow? Well, okay. We'll have to find somewhere safe and private, far enough away from this room... And you won't be able to take anything, you'll have to borrow my weapons. There isn't time to spell yours, and only a spelled blade can enter into Death." She paused, contemplating the mammoth task that lay ahead. It would not be easy to escort someone into Death with her, when she had only travelled to the very first handful of Precincts. Her night-time studying would, hopefully, suffice, providing they did not have to go too deep... But what if they did? Isabella only had the two weakest of the bells. Nothing to bind or still the horrors that Death contained. If they were cornered by something powerful, any of the Denizens, they would have to fight, and Isabella lacked the knowledge of the Charter that her predecessors had. If they faced hostile confrontation; how much could she do? Would her simple knowledge of the very basic of Charter spells, her reflexes and spelled daggers be enough? Could Jacob wield Nehima? Nehima was the best weapon she had; the ancient sword so packed full of Charter and free magic that just the touch of it was corrosive to anything Dead. But Jacob could not activate the charter magic to use it more effectively, and he would have nothing else to wield, except that. And she wasn't sure she could even swing the thing. And what about the collar? If Isabella gave a command in Death; and it was almost certain that she would have to give many, to ensure his safety, would he follow it? What if he refused? What if he used his power over her to ill-effect in a dire situation? All of these obstacles were not generally things that might have occurred to Isa, but something of the seriousness of Death had always been instilled in her. She had grown up knowing the severity of her blood and the things it enabled her to do. Death was not built for Life, after all, and so one could not expect safe passage through it. Death was built to try and keep in what was already there. It did not like having things taken away. She did not pause to ask or wonder what it was that he was hoping to find; it wouldn't be good. Bringing things back from Death was an abhorrent business, but increasingly she had begun to question her owner's morals. He didn't seem to have the same idealistic values of right and wrong as she did. Not that anything she could say would make the slightest difference, of course. She followed him and did what he asked when it was requested, and did her best to please him. He protected and took care of her, keeping her safe from everyone but himself. That was just the way it was. But that was a problem in Death, and something needed to change. "Sir... In Death, it's a very dangerous place. I don't know how well I can get us in and out, especially if what you're looking for is deep. But... I can try, but I need you to agree to something. A role-reversal. "In Death, if you don't do what I say, when I say it, you might very-well kill us both. If you get carried off by the river or you die in Death then that's it, you can't come back. I don't know if I can... protect us both... unless you agree to that." She didn't say it, but she made it quite clear that her taking him depended upon his agreement. There was no point being obedient if it got them both killed. |
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| Leventa | Jan 11 2006, 05:47 PM Post #10 |
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"I'll do as you say." Jacob slowly turned in her grip and faced her with his head still lowered, his face only a few fragile inches away from hers. His hair spilled out around his shoulders and face like a wave of ghostly silk, those pale, red lips so close to her own if only she could close the short, meaningless distance. "I know that I haven't told you this before, Bella, but it is time that I did." His right hand moved to cup the left side of her face, holding her still bruised cheek in the palm of his hand like the damaged and breakable thing that it was. His eyes were stark and serious, as they almost always were, but they were still soft and gentle, the sharp cruelty that they often displayed lost in the moment. "You're so beautiful, and you make me smile even when you annoy me. You're my counterpoint and my balance, and I love you." |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 12 2006, 05:46 AM Post #11 |
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"You're so beautiful, and you make me smile even when you annoy me. You're my counterpoint and my balance, and I love you." When he spoke this odd, fuzzy warmth started lower in her stomach, and worked its way up, gradually making every inch of her tingle happily. She squeezed her arms tighter around his shoulders and leaned in, pressing those soft lips against his, green eyes fluttering shut. They didn't stay long; flicking hot, pink little tongue over his mouth, she withdrew and buried her face and lips against his throat, nuzzling in there, her hair spilling down his front in cascading rivers of black. She hung around his neck, arms still looped up around him, her figure curled into his lap; knees tucked under her, the curve of her smaller body resting against him. "I love you too, Sir." She murmured quietly, muffled a little against his skin as she lay there, still and happy, those large ears twitching a little, tail swishing absent-mindedly in the air behind her. It was nice, being able to relax like this with him. His lap was her safe place; somewhere she could rest and close her eyes and let her ears droop, and know that she was safe. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. It was all the security of a parent with something else, something different; the way her stomach twisted and fluttered when he looked at her like that, or the moist warmth that started and made her squirm in his lap. Tilting her head back, she licked his chin, those green eyes wide and bright, shining with verdant dreams. "I guess we better get studying." Her long arms detangled themselves from him, leaning down and ducking under the bed momentarily, her shirt rising up her back as she did, exposing the long curve of soft, dark skin as she foraged about under the mattress. Finally she had it, and drawing back with a wrench she sat back in his lap, holding the large tome of the Grimoire. She flicked it open, and pulled out a wad of plain blank exercise books. Flicking through, she grabbed one marked "Gates and Precincts" in neat, small curving handwriting on the front, and handed it to him. "These are my notes," she explained, "if you read that, it will help us be more prepared." Inside the book was pages and pages dedicated to explaining how Death worked, the layout and segments, the dangers each Precinct contained, and the forms the different Gates took. It was punctuated with neat, perfectly drawn diagrams that looked remarkably like the things they were of, and neat little notes all done by her hand. She set the other books aside, keeping out one loose leaf of paper which had the incantations necessary to safely pass each Gate printed across, and turned her attention to the shifting words on the pages of the ever-changing Grimoire. She had that cute, concentrating look again, tongue poking out one side of her mouth as her brows furrowed, green eyes narrowed and giving off those intent beams that deterred anyone from interrupting her study. Once, in mid-sentence, her attention fixed upon the book, her tail rose up and scratched the top of her head, as a mildly puzzled expression floated over her pretty face. Hard work, studying. |
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| Leventa | Jan 12 2006, 08:47 AM Post #12 |
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Jacob had always been good at absorbing knowledge. It didn't always survive for long in the swirling maelstrom that was his mind, but it always lasted long enough to be useful. Jacob saved the valuable space in his mind for the important things, rather than memorizing the capital city of every country in the world. That sort of knowledge was best saved for tests and then forgotten. Unless you wanted to keep it close at hand to impress people at a party. Jacob had taken one look at the grimiore several weeks ago, and known its importance instantly. It didn't take him long to get into the habit of reading the strange book whenever Isabella was off doing something that Jake found to be a waste of time and effort. He had already committed several portions of the book to memory despite its annoying habit of constantly changing the information held inside its pages. It wasn't natural for a book to edit itself on a consistent basis. When Isabella slipped into his lap and began to study along side him, he already knew some of the more basic concepts and information about death. It was the precincts that caught his eye after she handed it to him, and he began to read, his eyes never faltering away from the page until he was finished. When he finally did look up, Isabella was still busy, her tongue poking adorably out the side of her mouth in a display of utmost concentration. His left arm slipped around her waist from behind and he pulled her lower body down against him, holding the gorgeous nekojin against him as his head fell down to the back of her neck. He was very interested to see how long her studying would hold up against his attentions, and what sort of scolding he might receive from the girl. His lips pressed against the base of her neck, hot, soft, and carrying a hint of moisture as they always did. His lips worked at the back of her neck, kissing and grazing over the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking out in long, slow swipes across her flesh. It was then that he began to suck on her skin, lips making soft wet sounds in the empty room around them, his teeth biting cruelly into her delicate flesh before his lips closed back around the fresh abrasions, kissing and making it all better. |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 12 2006, 03:44 PM Post #13 |
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Isabella made a soft, low sepulchral sound that was halfway between a disgruntled groan and exasperated sigh. She wriggled around him, ducked her head to avoid his advances and dodge from his lips, and finally delivered a playful elbow, gently, to his side. "Sir! Would you stop that?" She frowned in annoyance, that cute face all puckered with displeasure, and turned in his lap to glare at him, with the practiced stare that a mother perfects, to make her child feel guilty. "Honestly," she huffed, "I'm trying to study." Seeing that he'd obviously finished the tome she'd given him, she flipped through the pile and pulled out another flimsy volume. "Monsters in Death," she announced, pushing the title into his hands. "Make sure you can recognise them, and know where their weakpoints are. And sto-- stop doing that!" She burst into a fit of giggles, wriggling as his fingers found a ticklish spot, and accidentally elbowing him in the ribs. |
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| Leventa | Jan 12 2006, 05:10 PM Post #14 |
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Jacob smiled cunningly as he got the exact reaction he had expected from her. He endured her little jabs at him with her elbow, wriggling around a bit himself until she turned around to face him. That same classic smirk was spread across his face, and his fingers roamed over her body of their own accord until another blow from her elbow warded him off. At least for the moment... "What is the point of bothering to come back from death if we can't have a little fun with life, my kitten?" He tossed the book onto the floor with a soft sigh, his arms holding her securely against his lithe frame. "I already read that one. I doubt we will come across any Hands or Stilkens." Jacob's amethyst eyes slid closed in a lazy dream like fashion before opening, as if the room around them was actually immaterial and nonexistent. "We won't have to go far into death. He will come to us once we arrive. I can feel it..." |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 24 2006, 09:09 AM Post #15 |
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He...? Isabella let those bright green eyes drift closed and said nothing, leaning forwards, she curled into his torso, her smaller frame nuzzled into his. A warm sigh of breath against his chest, and she tipped her head back to look at him. "I just want to be able to keep you safe there, Sir" she smiled dimly, clambering up swiftly onto her knees against the bed, and letting those fragile arms encircle his shoulders; warm lips pressed soft kisses against the edges of his jaw, his chin, down his neck to slender shoulders and arms, dotting the smooth skin affectionately. She rested against him, allowing her smaller body to lean there as fingers held up the piece of paper she had been reading, "I love you, and unless I know these off-by-heart by tomorrow, we'll both be in big trouble." She wasn't sure whether it was her or himself he had confidence in, but either way, she was sure that her estimation of the task that lay ahead was more realistic, and more difficult, than his. |
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| Leventa | Jan 24 2006, 05:17 PM Post #16 |
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Jacob sighed as she pressed against him, her warm lips working along his skin with a skill that she hadn't possessed just a short while ago. The studying was now beginning to annoy him. It was funny how all of his dreams had failed to include the study session, as if it had just skipped past to all of the truly important details. Jacob snatched the piece of paper out from her hands with his usual lightning speed before allowing it to flutter to the floor beside him without any sign of care. His hands gripped her wrists, and he pulled her out of his lap and onto the bed behind them, his body slipping over hers as he pushed her small frame into the mattress. "We will be fine, Bella, because I've seen what will happen. You need to trust me as well, or we are going to die tomorrow." His hold on her wrists was still tight, but not quite enough to actually harm her or leave any marks that would not vanish a few moments after her release. Jacob would only tighten his grip if she fought against him. His head fell down towards her neck, his lips lightly tracing across the warm, fragile skin that protected the rushing blood just below. His breath was slow and strong, and it flowed across the many tiny and sensitive hairs that lined her skin in ragged bursts. She knew what it meant when he fell into this pattern of behavior. "I'm tired of reading. I need you now, all of you." His hold on her wrists tightened for a brief moment, his fingers biting into her delicate limbs before he relaxed, a long undulating growl sliding free from his lips. "I'm hungry..." |
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| Isabella Williams | Jan 27 2006, 10:01 AM Post #17 |
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Unregistered
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Since childhood, Isabella had had one principal drilled into her. Nothing good came out of Death. Bring nothing back with you, never raise, never change. Death is natural, the Ninth Gate claims those whose time it is to be claimed, and there was no principality nor power with the authority to contradict it. Jacob wanted to bring something out of Death, and it worried her. She worried about what it was, about what he wanted, and she worried that that little part of him that he tried to hide, the darker part that smelt of Death; the part of him that needed her the way he wanted her now, she worried that it would strengthen that. That Death would make it worse. Sometimes, fear of Death is all that keeps a person good. But she could not say no to him, or refuse him anything. His body, slender, strong enough without being bulky, it leaned over her and his grip encircled those fragile arms. She tugged a little, the squirming little kitty wriggling under him, but not much. Not enough to really get away; he wouldn't like that. But he liked it when she fought back, just a little. His breath was hot, and it made droplets of moisture form on her neck where his lips had been; she shivered and would have drawn him against her, but wasn't free to move. He made her look smaller, leaning over her like that, a few heads taller, the breadth of his torso wider; strong shoulders, soft skin that made her shudder. She wasn't like this before; he was making her into something else. She'd never felt nervous or trembly at the way a boy's neck curved before, the way light hit his arms and shoulders, making the skin look so soft... She'd have given him anything. Trust was nothing big, she could give him that. He was her teacher, her protector. He was right; he had to of been. Jacob could not be wrong, not when he so wanted to be right. There was something about his eyes; not a yearning, not even when he wanted her so badly, it was more like an intensity. He believed everything he said absolutely, with such complete conviction that you couldn't doubt it. It was like his word, his belief, made it so. An undisputable fact. She smiled, and whispered, “I trust you, Sir,” and gently stopped resisting. Everything would be fine, just as he said. |
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| Leventa | Jan 27 2006, 04:35 PM Post #18 |
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Monster Enthusiast
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Normally Jacob would of given her one of his many talented facial expressions, the kind that always seemed to promise deeper and darker things, but he was far beyond his normal assortment of placating tricks. Jacob's eyes were always cold orbs of intricate amethyst, never showing emotion or thought unless he so chose to inject they with humanity and feeling. Now they were something else, and entirely beyond rational description. There were things swimming behind his lavender eyes, and they left ripples that could only be seen by somebody as gifted with death as she herself was. Jacob's body loomed up over hers like some sort of impending and shadowed threat, his upper torso braced by his slender and finely muscled arms. He pressed her wrists down into the mattress, his fingers now biting ever so slightly into the delicate flesh of her wrists. His head was dipped forward, chin resting against the top of his chest as he stared down into her eyes with the male haze of lust, but is wasn't her just her body that he needed, it was everything and more. Jacob's breath came in long shuddering intervals, and it felt blazingly hot against her skin. "You're such a good pet." Jacob joined her wrists in his left hand, and his grip was as forceful and inescapable as it had ever been before. His single arm now held his entire upper body, and he allowed himself to slip that last few inches down onto her. His chest was bare and smooth, muscled just enough to show the fine details below the skin, a glint of light from the window shade catching on a single bead of sweat as it trailed down his flesh and accentuated every dip and curve. "You can squirm, Kitten, I'll hold you tight." His body pressed against her, their chests separated only by a single length of fabric as he purposely shifted himself back and forth with each breath, rubbing against her with a cruel amount of friction. Jacob's free right hand moved to the left side of her body, gathering a handful of the shirt that ended just above her thighs. A single precise tug ripped a long ragged line that spread all the way up to the top of her hip, and his hand slid under the newly ruined shirt, a single black tentacle flowing from the palm of his hand and melting painlessly into the flesh just below her ribs. While it was painless, it was not without sensation. It was hot. Everywhere. It was as if her entire body had been submerged in a hot spring, pleasantly warming ever corner of her lithe frame, even her mind. It was warm and tingly there, the same way it felt after she had consumed the drinks at the Underground. There was something else there with that pleasant buzzing, a presence that was made up of nothing but instincts and rudimentary thoughts, but it was a part of Jacob all the same. That was one fact that it continued to force through her precious little mind. The hunger crashed over her in a wave that was not unlike those found in the third precinct of death, but there was nowhere for her to run, no place that offered escape or safety. Not here. It was hunger beyond that of food, water, or sex. A thousand men traveling through an endless desert never felt the combined thirst of this single presence, and it filled up every inch of her with that same hunger. She could make it all stop if she just gave in and fed it, if she just allowed it to taste of her. Then she would feel content and warm again, and the hunger would be gone. If she didn't feed it, she would surely die of the feeling. Let go... |
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