Raphael Amante (ciaobella) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2012-12-01 20:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, lena gevelinger, raphael amante |
WHO: Raphael Amante [ITALY] and Lena Gevelinger [BELGIUM]
WHAT: Doria posed as Lena. Raphael slept with her. This is the fallout.
WHEN: Pub Night, near closing
WHERE: Pub Night Warehouse
STATUS: Complete Log
RAPHAEL: It had been a standard IVI pub night, with plenty of dancing and drinking and carousing on all parts. Raphael had been doing his usual flitting about, testing the waters with whatever women seemed receptive to his attentions this eve, but coming up rather short on the whole. With a few glasses of wine in his system and the clock ticking down, he began to form a less-than-advisable contingency plan. Last week Lena had proven surprisingly amorous towards night’s end, and the resulting tryst had hardly been regrettable. It was perhaps worth the potential evisceration again. His eyes prowled over the crowd until they found the Belgian standing at the end of the bar, and he fixed his lips into one of his more roguish smiles. “Ciao bella.” He greeted with his signature, sidling up to the bar next to her. LENA: "Go away," Lena said, turning the tumbler in her hands around and around as she stared at the wall ahead of her. The ice within the glass had melted a long while ago now, but she had used up the third of her drink tickets and had no taste for melted down liquor. She similarly had no taste for drunken european boys who thought they were all-grown men, intent on wooing her into bed with them. Lena didn't let anybody woo her. Had she given this boy any indication otherwise? She turned her head slowly to face him, her blue eyes icy with derision. RAPHAEL: Raphael pulled a face of mock offense at the harsh response, though judging from the playful smirk that accompanied it he seemed to think that he was in on the joke. “Well, that’s not so friendly.” He answered, crossing his arms along the bar and leaning towards her, letting their shoulders touch. “Unless you want to come away with me, si?” LENA: She was not playing around with him, as evidenced by the severe expression on her face and lack of friendliness. For several seconds, which seemed to span centuries, Lena merely returned Raphael's gaze. It might have seemed that she was unaware that he was touching her, if not for the words that soon came to her lips: "If you don't want to be stabbed, you will step away from me and never touch me again." RAPHAEL: The cold severity of Lena’s words did give the tipsy Italian pause, but with their bedroom intimacies still so fresh in his mind, he was not so easily deterred. After all, this wasn’t the first time a woman had pretended that they hadn’t hooked up, nor would it be the first time they’d relapsed with some convincing. “Surely your experience, it was not so bad.” He cajoled, his hand moving tentatively to find the small of her back. “You seemed quite pleased, at the time.” LENA: Not only did Lena not have any idea what this idiot was talking about, but he was continuing to touch her. It repulsed her, his physical touch, and she wanted to strike out at him and scream, lash out in any way possible. Her eyes grew wider and colder still as she fixed him with her cutting gaze. Lena leaned into him and brought her arm up toward his face, as if acquiescing under his sweet caresses. But instead of caressing him back, she unsheathed her cold blade and held it tight against his throat. "I told you, do not. Touch me." RAPHAEL: Raphael grinned as she leaned into him, a hint of relief in his face at the proof that she was just playing some strange game with him. But now they could set games aside and get down to the-- knife against his throat. Raphael froze in place as the cold blade pressed against his skin, the smarmy smile quickly flattening into one of utter surprise. “Bella, por favor!” He murmured quickly, his hands immediately withdrawing from her personal space and coming up at his sides, gesturing his surrender. “It is not funny, this joke.” LENA: While he withdrew from Lena, she still kept the blade at the ready in case he wasn't finished invading her space. Perhaps some might see it as an overreaction to draw a blade on a flirtatious boy, but Lena was unwilling and unforgiving to accept such attention when it was not wanted. "This is no joke," she said as calmly as possible even though her pulse roared in her ears, making it almost impossible for her to hear anything else. RAPHAEL: Raphael still hadn’t moved his neck away from the blade, pressed as he was against the bar and disinclined to make any sudden movements. His brow furrowed at the Belgian girl, almost hurt, his hands still raised. “Was it--” He began quietly, like a sulky child, as though worried others might hear. He seemed like he’d be leaning in for a conspitorial whisper, if not for the blade. He could barely even get the words out. “Was it so bad, truly?” LENA: Her eyes narrowed in disbelief and she pulled the blade away just a little bit. What the hell was he talking about? A disgusted expression passed across her face as Lena took in his pouting countenance. What a baby. "Was what bad?" RAPHAEL: Rare were the moments when Raphael Amante did not delight in the attentions of an audience, but this fit that very exclusive bill. He cast a furtive look to the nearby pub-goers who were whispering over their spectacle, and leaned forward to answer her question as privately as possible. “Our... intimacies.” LENA: Lena looked at him as if he had suddenly grown an additional head. Intimacies? She thought to herself. Intimacies? There was no doubt in her mind that Lena had never slept with this boy but he seemed completely convinced of it. The sickening realization that someone had slept with Raphael as her dawned upon her. She felt ill, as though she might be sick, but more than that she was furious. How dare someone pose as her and sleep with someone? Who dared to do that? It wasn't very long before Lena realized just who was the culprit, and her eyes narrowed in seething fury. Doria. Her wretched teammate. Lena wanted to strangle her with her bare hands. And now that the target of her ire was no longer Raphael, she withdrew her blade from his neck and retracted it within her hand. There was blood on her hands, but it was not Raph's. Lena glared at him for good measure, lest he think this change of heart was an open invitation for him to continue his advances. "You will go away now," she warned him as she stepped back. "I have to find Doria now." RAPHAEL: As the blade withdrew Raphael’s body slackened, as if exhaling the breath he’d been holding all along. His hand came up to rub his neck tenderly, and he took a small step backwards. “Doria? Pero porque--?” He began to question the situation, but at another scathing glance he quickly abandoned the line of inquiry. “Si, I will go away now.” He repeated ingratiatingly, and quietly slunk away from the seething Belgian, no doubt to come to the same conclusions in his own time. |