InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "WHAT!?"

Danté (darkdevotion) wrote in nosuchplace,
@ 2009-01-13 23:57:00

Entry tags:

danté donovan, dione castel

Monday: November 5, 2007
Who: Dante and Open
When: Mid afternoon
Where: Park Bench/Market Place
What: Enjoying the smell of carnage in the morning

There was something soothing about the smell of coffee interlaced with the pungent smell of blood all around him. There were traces of the attack that occurred yesterday, and the lycanthrope was a bit disappointed that he had missed all the fun. Sadly, it couldn't be helped - he had spent the entire day before exploring the Southern parts of Elysium and the various caves that were in that region. He brought the 'to go' cup to his lips, sipping the hot beverage slowly. It warmed him from the inside, but it was a superficial warmth. There were a few things that made him feel alive and sadly, this was not one of them. But it was comforting... and soothing. Definitely soothing.

His eyes glanced around him slowly. He imagined the 'battle' in his head, and the confused state of all the denizens in the town. It made him chuckle a bit - a low, resonating sound that shook his chest. Dante's voice, coupled with a darkened room, would have been enough to scare the piss out of those with faint hearts. He was not someone that anyone would want to run into in a dark alley. Or maybe he was? He had his moments of kindness, when something tugged at his heart, if you could even call it that. Dante didn't have a heart that he knew of, and he certainly didn't have any emotions. Obsession was the furthest thing he knew, and he had a couple of things on his plate currently occupying his attention.

Dante's breath rose into the air with each exhale. The chill made it visible, and he did it a couple of times in amusement. "You know, there's room on this bench for another," he said suddenly though his voice was calm. A person had approached him, and though he didn't look up to see who it was he knew someone was there. He could smell them, and he heard them as they took steps toward him. It was hard sneaking up on a werewolf, especially one as trained as he was.

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audiomorbid
2009-01-14 06:48 pm UTC (link)

Dione had walked back up to the Market Place because she wanted to finish what she started to do when the harpy attack came. All the matter of trying to get food for herself. Except now she moved into the marketplace and thought she felt a familiar presence. So she stopped and was even a little surprised by the fact that he noticed her.

"Y-you sound l-like you are in-n good spirits." Her stutter diminished some in the presence of the people that she knew and once she started to become a little more comfortable with the fact that she was having a discussion with someone out in public.

She was all right after her run in with the harpies, the lengthy scratch along her face running along her cheekbone up into her hair. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it when she ran her fingers over it. Most likely it would stay there for a while, an unattractive split in the skin of her face. Her hands were also injured, the bandages, stark white against her skin, gave that away. Yet she didn't appear to be bothered by either.

"You don't mind," her stutter disappeared quickly since she knew Dante well enough to know that she had no real reason to be worried about him. Her cane tapped against the bench and then she finally took a seat on the bench. "How have you been?" The pleasantries of life, she made a point of continuing to use them whenever possible. The southern portion of America prided itself on its hospitality and good manners.

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darkdevotion
2009-01-15 11:12 pm UTC (link)

Dante turned to find Dione standing there, and immediately he noticed the scar along her face. He could smell the dried blood beneath the bandages, and immediately his brow furrowed. While he was a monster, Dante did not like to see something as beautiful as Dione tarnished with such things. He could harm a person if he wanted, but never the other's face especially if he found it pleasant to look at.

"You're hurt," he said as he moved over to give her room. She was competent enough to find her way into the seat without his help. Dante couldn't imagine being blind - so much of what he did relied on sight and smell, but he was heavily dependent upon his eyes. A part of him thought that Dione was remarkable, and that might have been unfortunate for Dione. "Was it the harpies?" A question though he could guess the answer. "I heard about what happened to the town," he said, lowering his voice to make it sound as if he were sorry for the troubles. He wasn't, but he could pretend.

"Don't worry about how I'm doing," Dante said. He turned his body to face Dione, gazing at her more attentively than before. He could snap the neck of whatever harpy did this to her, but the odds were that it was already dead considering that the towns people actually fought back. "Are you okay? Should we get you to the medical pavilion?" Dante knew there were healers there that could heal through touch alone; she didn't have to have that scar upon her face for any longer than was necessary. Besides, it pained him to look at it - it didn't take away from her beauty, but pain was inflicted upon someone who interested him and that simply would not do.

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audiomorbid
2009-01-16 08:21 am UTC (link)

He had much the same reaction that Dexter had given her to seeing the damage that was done to her face. He had ran grave cold fingers over the surface of her skin and it had nearly given her a headache because it already hurt. Then the argument had started. The two of them were always odd to listen to when they were arguing. Sentences that seemed to hang unfinished in the air. Anger that had so much more to do with fear than it did with wrath. That was just the way they were and how they would be forever if Dione had her way. She had already essentially forgotten that her brother was going to leave her at some point. The very idea disturbed her, so she didn't think about it, figuratively she refused to look at it. She couldn't live without him. So she didn't worry about living in a world where he wasn't there. The very action of her choosing to get up and leave again had sparked another small argument which Dione only won by simply walk out on it. Dexter was incorporeal. He couldn't stop her if she wanted to do something and he disagreed. It wasn't fair for her to take advantage of that weakness on his part, but she refused to be locked up in that bungalow again simply because he was unsure of the world outside their door. It seemed that her blindness did serve a good purpose, it kept her from seeing the things in front of her face and mentally, she made herself just as blind to get through day to day life.

Dione nodded to the idea that the harpies had gone after her. "Nasty smelling things like the cat lady's house down the street in the middle of the summer." She'd been in close quarters with one of their corpses while they waited out the attack in the butcher shop. That smell was something she was afraid she would never forget and just the memory made her want to gag. One of the bad things about having a slight sensitivity to smell. "Frankie killed one. Managed to trick the other one into the cold box at the butcher's." One could say one thing about Dione, she was tenacious enough to try to survive when it came right down to it. Her chances were lowered by her various disabilities both physically and mentally, but she would try to survive. And with a little luck, as with the harpies, she would succeed.

The idea of going to the medical pavillion got a shake of her head 'no'. "I've already been. The place scares me, so I don't stay. Barely managed to let them get all the glass out of my hands." Which was the truth. She'd only sat long enough to let them bind her hands because her hands were her life, but the agitation of being in a place that felt like a hospital to her made it very hard for her to settle and let anyone do much. She spooked constantly and watching her panic was hardly a pretty thing.

That someone could heal her by touch was something Frankie had sorta mentioned in talking about Starbuck, but she hadn't been able to make herself stick around long enough for that. She just wanted her hands bound up, the cut in her face cleaned so that she wouldn't get an infection, and get out of Dodge. Honestly, the injuries to her hands were more important to her than her face, but that was probably because she didn't have to look at it.

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darkdevotion
2009-01-20 05:50 pm UTC (link)

Survival was what people like Dante did best. He had to learn to survive in a world that would have normally shunned him for being the monster that he was. He hid that part of him away, letting it out only when the moment was right. He was skilled in this act, fooling all of those around him. No one saw the monster that he was, and Dione blind as she was, would not see it at all. She wouldn't see the evil glimmer in his eyes, or the sinister aspect of his smile. Dione would not see the feral hunger that lingered behind his every action.

Dante stared at her intensely, watching her stare at nothing in particular as she spoke of her ordeal. He couldn't say he felt sorry for her, but he felt something that was akin to anger. The harpies could mess with whatever else they wanted, but his property was out of the question. Oh yes, there was a part of Dante that felt Dione belonged to him though he did not act upon that fact just yet.

"I didn't run into them yesterday," he said rather blandly. "But I'm sorry that you did. Are you sure you won't let me take you to the medical pavilion?" If Dante seemed rather adamant on the matter it was only because he didn't want her scarred for life. Such a beautiful face, marred because of those infernal creatures! His right hand balled into a fist, nails digging into his palm until he bled.

He released his hand and wiped the blood on his jeans, forming a dark smear against the fabric. Dante forced a smile upon his face, and in his voice, turning his body to look at the girl who was seated next to him. "You shouldn't be scared of that place. They can help you. I'll go with you-" he reached out slowly to touch her knee with the tips of his fingers. "I'll stay with you. And if they hurt you, I'll beat them up. C'mon."

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audiomorbid
2009-01-21 10:08 am UTC (link)

There are always those that make you feel a little safer. Whether or not Dante deserved such a place in Dione's life was entirely up to the perception of those looking on, but at the moment, that was where she put him. He made her feel safe. Considering that she was a young woman strung so tight that her nerves might as well have been violin strings at times for all the tension they were under, it wasn't really that surprising that she was latching onto the feeling of having someone there strong enough to help her take care of herself.

Not trying to do things for her, but rather to help her do things. Dione didn't really want people doing things for her because it made her feel like she was a child all over again and the truth was that she wasn't a child anymore. There was no reason for anyone treat her like she couldn't do things on her own. An argument suspiciously like a two year old wanting to put on their jacket by themselves, despite the fact that their fingers are too small to work the buttons correctly. Unwilling to admit that help is required. Just as stubborn and just as silly.

Dione's life in a nutshell. Stubborn and silly, though one could add painful and confusing to that mix quite easily. The poor woman was always a little confused and doing her best not to let the pain get the better of her, generally by just pretending it didn't exist. So much easier that way, pretending that everything was okay. It helped her to smile at moments when she really didn't think there was anything to smile about.

Her nose wasn't quite strong enough to pick up the smell of blood when it wasn't in large quantities. Just as well as it would have made her ask again if he was all right and he'd already told her not to worry about how he was doing. It was a very small motion for her to touch his fingers since he was touching her. "That's really sweet of you," to her mind it really was. "But I'm fine." Dione was perfectly fine in her own opinion. Yes, her hands were a little stiff, but that would heal on its own, right?

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darkdevotion
2009-01-22 04:55 pm UTC (link)

Safe wasn't usually a word people used to describe Dante. Safe wasn't usually what Dante made people feel, but it wasn't entirely odd that Dione felt that way around Dante. He was very unlike himself around her. He did not harbor his usual dark, demented thoughts when he was near her. True, he wished to possess her, the way he would one day possess the other, but it was subdued somehow. Was it that a part of him felt sorry for her because she was blind? It was hard to say with someone like Dante, and for now those thoughts and feelings were buried deep within his psyche.

Dante didn't believe that Dione couldn't take care of herself, or that she couldn't do things on her own. He had met and talked with her enough times to know that was far from the truth. She was self-sufficient in ways that Dante didn't think blind people could be. Granted, he never had much experience with them, and he held the stereotype that those without sight were almost helpless, but Dione fell into a different category entirely.

He looked down as her fingers touched his. A shudder of warmth passed through him, and he closed his eyes peacefully at the small gesture. He opened them after a few moments, gazing at her again just as he bit back the urge to drag her to the medical pavilion for the treatment that she obviously needed. "I guess I'm just worried about you," he said out loud. Worried more about her pretty face than anything else. "But if you insist-" he trailed off, holding back again the urge to just grab her and tell her what she needed to do because he said so.

"Did they at least give you some ointment or something to take home?" An innocent question in his mind. He knew the pavilion had herbal ointments that sped up the healing process. It would have done wonders for Dione's injuries if she had some.

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audiomorbid
2009-01-23 08:34 am UTC (link)

Feelings were called feelings simply because they weren't based on facts and logic. Though thoughts didn't have to be based on logic either truthfully. One could have thoughts that had nothing to do with what was really going on. Dante would be a lovely case in point. An absolutely perfect example of thoughts that didn't have to be based on reality, but rather the preception of reality. Of course, Dione's perception was incomplete. Thus her thoughts would have some incompleteness to them, a lack of information causing them to form wrong. That might explain her infatuation with a man who was actually a psycho wearing a very normal face.

Then there is the fact that most serial killers have groupies, but that is a discussion for a different day.

He asked a question and she had to make herself remember in order to answer it. The whole thing had happened yesterday, yet it might as well have been a week ago, a month ago, a year ago for how fuzzy her memory of most everything after sitting with Frankie in the butcher shop with harpy corpse stink getting into her face and hair was. Had they given her something? Someone, female, had pressed something into her hands.

Smaller than bread box. An old paste jar size something. That

"Smells like pretty flowers," the leap from brain to mouth can very often be made without the brain's consent. However, she did realize that she had spoken, so she backed up to clarify. "A lady gave me something in a little jar that smells like flowers. I'm sure she told me what it was for." Because she had and that information along with most of her visit to the Doctors at the Pavilion had gone somewhere in her head to hide.

The seemingly random connection of having her touching his hand was probably nothing, but crushes have a bad tendency of magnifying the little things rather out of proportion. Either way, she was reluctant to break that small connection.

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darkdevotion
2009-01-28 10:17 pm UTC (link)

The truth of the matter was that most people in society wore masks. No one ever knew someone's true nature until it was too late. Time was the only thing that could reveal all facets of a personality, and even then there would still be some things kept hidden in the dark recesses of a person's soul. There was nothing Dione could do about the infatuation she felt - Dante played his game expertly and only showed her the things he needed her to see.

He looked down at their fingers — touching and yet not so much. Dante could tell she was shy, and that alone told him that she was drawn to him. She was developing feelings for him, and the birth of those feelings caused her to be very self-conscious. He smiled at the results of his careful plans.

"At least they gave you something," he said sounding very grateful that someone had taken care of the blind medium. He sighed though, something that would have told Dione that he was sad about something. Dante made sure that his sigh held that quality to it. She would be curious, or at least he hoped she would be. Her curiosity would get the better of her and she'd want to know what was on his mind. That was how it played out in the past when he able to get close to those he had chosen.

His fingers, roughened from what could only be considered "man's" work, touched Dione's a little more. He dared to curl them around her delicate digits, a slow and purposeful move. If she wanted to pull away she could, but the lycanthrope had a feeling she wouldn't.

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audiomorbid
2009-01-28 10:43 pm UTC (link)

Dante was very, very good at what he did and Dione being who and how she was only made things that much easier for him. The shy, impressionable, naive type who wanted attention but didn't realize that it came to her easily by her very behavior. No, she was skittish, but for the moment, she was caught by the need to be near him.

Her eyes flickered when he sighed, though she wasn't sure if she should ask anything at all. It wasn't polite to pry, but maybe it wouldn't be prying if she asked. It was just a little question. Yet he'd already told her not to worry about him. The confusion popped up in a slight twitch to the edge of her lip, as if she would smile but it wasn't quite ready to come out.

With him seeming to actually want to hold her hand, the mental process found something else to focus on. What did this mean? Did it mean anything at all? Was she overthinking this whole thing again? Maybe she was, but either way, her thoughts were going around in a circle so she decided to back up.

"You're sure everything is all right?" Stupid was her immediate thought. Stupid question that she shouldn't have asked. "I don't mean to pry." Backpedal a little faster.

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feel free to smack me silly

darkdevotion
2009-02-06 09:06 pm UTC (link)

If only all of Dante's pursuits were as easy to fool as Dione, or perhaps he had a tendency to get sloppy when he became impatient. But that wasn't the case here. He had time with Dione, and he wanted to pull her in as close as he could.

His fingers wound themselves around hers a little more, feeling her warmth beneath the pads of his rough fingers. She was probably confused by the show of affection; Dante guessed that Dione hadn't had much experience when it came to matters of the heart. She would probably swear herself off men once Dante was done with her, but that was just something he was willing to risk.

"I'm just..." he squeezed her hand gently, as if he wanted to show her that he cared. "I feel terrible that I wasn't around for," he paused a little to make a show of how difficult the words were for him to say. "For the attack. I could have at least protected you." He brought his other hand to place on top of hers, his thumb brushing across her skin slowly. Such a farce, his actions - if Hayate saw him in that moment the vampire would have been more than amused. The thought alone brought a smile to Dante's face. There was only one other in the haven who understood him, and it was a monster who was his rival.

"Maybe I should be around more often," he said after a little pause. "To make sure nothing else happens." He stopped smoothing his thumb over her skin, and turned his face to look at her. She couldn't see him, but Dante wondered if she would so readily trust him if she could.

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Paddle, whip, or hand? :-P

audiomorbid
2009-02-06 10:54 pm UTC (link)

He was all too right about the fact that Dione didn't know the first thing about matters of the heart. The closest Dione had ever gotten to being in love with anyone was the way that her relationship with her brother worked. One who could upset her and yet manage to do no real wrong. The first to make her feel an anger that made her hands shake and also the first to be forgiven without having to ask. It was strange, inexplicable, yet she didn't know any other way for it to be.

Him touching her hands made her appear to look down at the contact, not because she wanted him to stop but because it wasn't something she expected. It was more than she had expected from him, more than she could have wished for truthfully. It just left her not knowing how to respond, so she did nothing. She didn't move out of his grip, but she didn't make any moves to return the seeming affection.

The idea of him being there to protect her actually made her shake her head 'no'. Why because she didn't know that he had any real chance against something that had gone through her skin as if there was no resistance at all. Could she be okay with the idea of him getting hurt over her? Not really. He was a good man, at least in her opinion, and his heart was in the right place. However, that didn't mean that she was willing to expect him to put his life on line for her.

"I couldn't ask you to look after me," which was really how she viewed the whole thing. "I," she didn't know what to say. "I really appreciate it though, Dante, I do. Besides, my whole life is either in my bungalow or the wine bar, there isn't a whole lot of needing to be around." He was being gallant and she was being a silly goose about the whole thing. Swallowing, she shrunk in on herself a little as if she expected the next action to be something harsh and she was just making sure she was suitably prepared for it.

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Definitely paddle - I like it rough

darkdevotion
2009-02-11 11:30 pm UTC (link)

Dante could claim that he had loved in his life, even if his form of affection was more obsession than anything. Most of it was always from afar; some, unrequited. He would try to get close and gain their favor, but his patience never lasted for very long. A dark voice would cry out from within him, screeching in a way that brought forth the insanity that had been born from an incident so long ago. It would take hold of Dante, and turn him into a monster.

Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to be a good man? Maybe there was a part that hoped that if he pretended to be a certain way long enough that it would become second nature to him? It was certainly something to strive for if only the monstrous nature hadn't already taken grip of his entire being. Playing pretend was easy for Dante, but it didn't mean he would ever become the man he portrayed.

"You're not asking," he said in retaliation. "I'm offering. I'm saying that I want to see you more, Dione. I could take you to places other than your bungalow or the wine bar." Dante made sure to sound enthusiastic about it all. He wanted Dione to believe that he sincerely cared. He could take her to other places like he offered, but it would all be for the sake of tricking the poor girl.

"Come on," he said suddenly. "Let's go get some lunch." Dante tugged on her hand gently. Why wait for tomorrow when you can deceive today? "The restaurant? Or the cafe? It's up to you."

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You'll feel it tomorrow rough or the bruises last for weeks?

audiomorbid
2009-02-12 10:29 am UTC (link)

You're not asking, I'm offering. His words surprised her. Really, he wanted to see her again. That was the first time that she had ever heard anyone say such a thing to her. Though she had cringed away previously, she seemed to unfold a little when the expected behavior didn't happen.

What behavior was she expecting one could ask? An outburst having to do with what was however polite a rejection of his proposal? It was easy to fall into the cycle of feeling the need to please. Dione didn't expect people to want to be near her, so it was an automatic gesture to try and please them. That way, they, whoever they would be, would stay around and she could enjoy being near a person even if she were nothing more than an addendum to their plans. She'd been doing that with Dexter for years, though he didn't pay a lot of attention to it. It was easy to overlook when you were getting your way.

It was hard not to be sucked in by the enthusiasm when she was relieved that he hadn't become upset at her. The suggestion of going to get lunch was equally unexpected and she reacted to it automatically out of surprise, pulling back when he tugged on her. People pulling her always made her feel like a pawn on a chessboard being pushed around.

Followed immediately by an apologetic smile. "Lunch," she wasn't sure if she wanted to go to the cafe or the restaurant. She'd never really been in the cafe, walked past it, thought about it, didn't get up the nerve to go in. She was missing so much thanks to that constant nagging fear of people that she had going on. Dante asked her opinion. "Cafe," it was one of the two choices presented and she didn't want to keep him waiting.

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Both cos I'm a baaaad boy

darkdevotion
2009-02-17 11:19 pm UTC (link)

Dante didn't expect to be pleased - he expected for his act to be so damn good that people couldn't help but be drawn to him. Dione wasn't an addendum in his eyes, but a necessary pawn in the game he was playing. It had been building since the moment he arrived in Elysium and now it was at a point where he needed more physical outlets for his energies.

He looked down at her hand when she pulled away from him. It was a small motion that brought forth a surge of anger that she couldn't see. He suppressed it quickly enough when she smiled and agreed to joining him for lunch. Dante took her hand again, and held onto it lightly. He acted like he was afraid she was going to break - he acted like he was shy and even insecure. It was all to make her feel more comfortable.

"The cafe it is," he said in a sing song voice. It sounded a little strange considering that he had a deep voice normally. He began to lead the blind woman toward the cafe, walking at a slow pace so that she could keep up. His other hand still held his coffee and he took a sip of it before he threw it away in a nearby trash can. "Thank you for coming with me," he said with false sincerity. "I was a little afraid you'd turn me down."

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End..but only for now... :-)

audiomorbid
2009-02-18 01:19 pm UTC (link)

"You don't ever have to be afraid of that," the way she said it wasn't cocky, but rather more conciliatory. That was the truth. She let him lead herself, easily falling into that familiar motion. He was always so nice to her, hard to believe, but he was. "I really appreciate it."

Effusive, maybe just a little, but that was rather like her. Please and thank you were just good manners and she made a point of having good manners.

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