Haunted Roads

Who: Elisabetta & Silva
Where: The enclosed gardens of the Tower.
When: Thursday Evening.
What: Recently moved in, Elisa steals a few moments alone, while the baby sitter is on the clock, to enjoy her new home.


One would never think, that clothing would play such a pivotal role, in a persons life. As a child, who could barely afford new shoes, clothing had been a luxury, and never had it been designer threads, resting upon the little Italian girls back. It was, whom ever she happened to be living with at the time, could afford to by her. Not that she ever knew to complain, that was how it always had been. She never knew any better, and there fore, would not expect better.

When you are given very little, from the start, to learn that very little will come to you. These children, so spoiled, and ungrateful. They valued nothing, but received it all. They never had reason to want for anything, but still they complained. If something wasn't the right color, or the right name brand, they were unhappy. Never, could they see how truly blessed they were. It saddened her.

Lucia would never be one of those children, Elisa was determined to never allow it to happen. No, she would never have to worry about, whether she would have clothing for school. Between her mothers money, earned from years as a model, and the rather generous corporate salary, that her father earned, they would never be room to worry.

Clothing, it had been the vein of Elisa life, for some time now. Long before becoming a woman, she walked runways, the newest fashions clinging to her tall frame. How popular she had been at home. Success was not lost in the states either. Though, most work here, and been editorial.

That life, though she had enjoyed it, was in the past now. It was time, as her father had put it, to use her special gifts, to find work. Ispirazione, to inspire those with a creative touch. Talent was not always needed, but it certainly helped. She was a Muse, not a miracle worker, after all. Thus far, her business had began to bloom. Several steady clients under her belt, one being a writer... his typing was quickly becoming irritating, but really. It was easy work, she did nothing, but place herself in his presence. That was all it took.

The black heeled boots clicked across the ground, as she walked, her arms folded across the front of her body, hugging in the warmth, while she admired the lush green. The flowers, still shy due to the cool winter. Much like New York, she had discovered. Given the cool, she could not bring herself, to dress in such a way, that was not fashionable. The need to do so, was now deeply engrained. At a time, it wasn't good enough, to look perfect on the runway, or in photo. One had to look like a model, at all times. That, she did not miss.

Who: Vallis (A Narrative)
Where: A young womans apartment.
When: Thursday late night.
What: Frustrated, Vallis seeks his normal form of release, but his choice in partner brings something out of him, that not even he expected.
Warning: Very graphic.

Legs, wrapped firmly around his hips, as they rose, and fell in that all too familiar rhythm. A rhythm, that by now, one would think he was tired of. Centuries of fucking, and still his taste had not even come close to being satisfied. It was the same in mortal life. Always, he had sought out numerous partners, to indulge his impulse. One, had managed to claim him, on more than one occasion. A beauty, if there ever was. Hair, golden, with eyes so green, the emeralds were jealous of them. It had never been his intention, to marry... to have a family. The conventional existence, that so many had fallen into. No, he was going to be like his uncle. A strange man, who saw the world, and never claimed a bride.

That had been, until the green eyed goddess, began to carry his child. It was a scandal, that her family wished to avoid, so, the two had married. At the time, Vallis was pleased, she was going to have his son. Something, that he could always respect her for. Though, love, beyond a vague fondness, never existed. He would never love another woman. Not in the way he had loved Roslin. The one woman, that he could never have... the one woman, who was perfect for him. Too perfect. His other half, in all ways... his sister.

Charles had been born, not long after he, and Margot were married. For once, he felt like a normal man, a happy man. He now had his son, to occupy his curiosity with. A son to raise in his image, to teach, to train. The first real pet, and he would always be his. No matter what. Vallis had not been anticipating the jealousy, that Roslin would feel towards his family. He knew that his sister could be cruel, just as he himself, could be cruel. They had been taught to shun those, weaker, and at a lower class than themselves. To use those, who were worth nothing. They had always been better, than most, that was simply how it was.

( How it would always be. )

When: Night
Where: Old Town Towers; their condo
Who: Dimitri, Juliette, Justine, Chloe

A family dinner seemed a simple thing but for the Baptistes it was always turned into quite the event. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they rarely spent as much time together as they used to. Perhaps it was only because Dimitri had time on his hands and was able to put forth so much effort. Whatever the reason for it, the dinner proved to be quite grand. None of them had need to eat true, but that did not mean that they did not enjoy the tastes of food still. Dinner was more a sampling, small amounts of what each of them loved.

Dimitri had worked through the morning hours as he often did and though he had attempted rest it had not worked as he had planned. Thoughts plagued his mind and made such attempts to relax rather difficult. A curse of the family it seemed as they became that way when they were uncertain on any particular point in their lives. It made the timing for this event perfect in a way, giving them excuse, and means, to forget all else for awhile. A night to simply enjoy being among family..allowing the rest of the world to fade away.

Or at least that was the plan…how well that worked out for any of them was another matter all together.

With much of his workload seen to Dimitri took the hours before nightfall to help in preparation for the night’s meal. Though he rarely cooked he was actually quite skilled in it. A talent that he did not even realize he held till late in his life. It wasn’t exactly a hobby he put much time or effort into however, his attention and time were almost always needed somewhere. He made sure of that, constantly flooding himself with work and projects in order to keep himself busy. Dimitri wasn’t the sort that really enjoyed being still or lacking in something to do.

Though he cooked he wasn’t the only one doing so. Others aided as well as there was too much to make for one person to handle.

Towards the end Dimitri left the finishing touches to others while he checked on some last minute work. There was little else for him to worry on really. The home was always in pristine condition and the large dining room was already prepared. Set with candles and all around the home fireplaces added a faint warmth to the home. It was more for light then for that, as cold was not something any of them truly felt anymore.

Music of long ago also filled the air, music that they used to listen to before times became so struggled and their lives went off in various directions. It reminded him of home, a home lost to all of them but yet remembered well. For times beyond the pain. For smiles and laughter.

There was time yet before the others would begin to arrive, Dimitri took seat in the living room near to the fire…watching the flames dance and cast shadows upon the walls. To the table near to him was a glass of wine briefly touched and to his hand a cigarette held between the fingers that was nearly spent, a window near to him was opened just enough to drag the scent of such away.

Who: Dorian (Narrative)
When: Saturday Night
Where: Outside the Towers

The days seemed to bleed into one, forming into one gray sky that never seemed to change with each afternoon that he woke and each evening that he spent keeping to dark streets and keeping his ear to the pavement as the saying went. Did one day spark anything more in him than another? Had any day done that for years now? No was the answer he'd become far too used to. It ate him, the monotony of his life, the constant movement.

Ate at him simply because he had something else to compare it to, something that could never be again.

While one day wore into the next he continually found himself moving closer and closer to one spot. It drew him in like a magnet. Closer and closer yet as if one were flipped he always pushed away in the last instant. Repelled back and yet he'd try again to find the same result. Was he finally reaching some level of insanity expecting a different result?

Was that dark haired woman leaving the apartment building he found himself at almost nightly her? If he actually expected it to be... perhaps he was insane.

Dorian just couldn't seem to shake the feeling, the slight scent that he would catch in the air, the energy that had always seemed to be hers and hers alone. As he'd return home before the sun hit the sky and lay in his motel room bed, he'd wonder if he wasn't just imagining her presence. He had to be though.

It was the presence of other demons, throwing him. Had to be. He knew that some lived in the complex he was so drawn to. Their energy radiating from the brick walls, that he was so tuned to seek. That was simply it. He was doing as he always had, anticipating the next move of those that sought him dead.

It wasn't her. It couldn't be her. No matter how much that part of him that was better off dead wished it could be. If just to see her one more time. From afar... he wasn't sure he could stomach the hate he would see in her eyes.

Even if that was what he had meant for her to feel.