InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "B-A-N-A-N-A-S!"

poeticmisery (poeticmisery) wrote in manchester_rpg,
@ 2010-06-04 21:44:00

Entry tags:

beth, desmond

Nothing is ever easy...
Who: Desmond and Beth
When: Friday afternoon
Where: Outside on the Campus Grounds
What: Registering
Rating: PG
Status: Complete

At the main gates to the Alden university campus, a man stood. From behind, this man could have been any man at all, which was not to say there was nothing unique about him, for there was. But rather, there was nothing about him that bespoke his originality beyond what any human easily could have had. Nor was there anything about his movements that was particularly fascinating, except perhaps, for the slowness that he took in them. Around him, people easily moved past, flowing and ignoring him as if he were not there, and yet it was because they moved that he stood out, a solitary pillar of stability amidst a rushing crowd that was busy doing all sorts of things, and yet he seemed to be doing almost nothing.

The man was doing something, however, he was looking at the gate in, studying it quietly, the way that a man in an art museum might stare at a mural on the wall. And the tragedy of it perhaps was not that the man stared up at the gate like it was a piece of art, for it was finely crafted, and when looked on from the right angle betrayed a wonderful view in towards the luscious, expansive campus. The tragedy was that the people who moved past him like stream water flowing past a rock, did not stop and look at it beyond a cursory glance, that there was nothing unique about it at all to them, save for a marker of some place that they were either going to or coming from.

As they passed him, a few women paused, turning back to look at him, their faces colored lightly with blushes. It seemed, while the man could have been anyone from the back, he was not anyone from the front. And though some giggled and shyly waved at him, there was little indication given to them that they were noticed beyond a quiet nod of his head, and the curving of his cheeks to betray a small, quiet smile. But those who noticed would then quietly pass. While it appeared that the man was good looking, there were other good looking people in the world, especially in this place where godlings and temptresses were not so uncommon as they might be elsewhere.

Others, who did not see his face, stared as well. This was more than likely because the man was dressed in all black, despite it being the middle of the afternoon. A raven duster, which matched the pitch hue of his hair perfectly covered most of it, still, as it flitted lightly in the wind those who might look would see a dark pair of slacks, and a pair of black, sturdy looking boots that they wrapped around the top of. But those who noticed such details too, quickly turned around and went back to the busy buzzing of their day like good worker bees. After all, people who dressed in a gothic fashion, even those wearing leather gloves in the middle of the day as he was, were nothing to write home about.

Then, slowly, after what seemed an eternity of non action, the man in black quietly began to move, not at the bustled pace that everyone else seemed to be moving, but rather, in a slow, reflective fashion, his head tilted back to look up at the buildings, and yet he easily stepped past obstacles in his path as if knowing where each and every one was. Whether this was some sort of gift of his or just a trick of him glancing down every few seconds was unclear, but there was an odd grace to the way that he held himself. Each step was considered, metered out, measured, and then taken, lightly. Each footfall rolled from the heel to the ball of the foot effortlessly, his hands moving easily at his sides.

The dull yellow-orange of the manilla envelope contrasted sharply with the black of his leather gloves as calmly opened it and pulled out a paper near the top, his head bowing slightly as he read the words on the page, his steps not faultering as he moved, free hand tracing the type on the page before he looked up, and around. Pausing for just a heartbeat to get his bearings, he began to move in the direction of what looked like an official type building. As he stepped up to it, he politely opened the door for a lady, but as soon as he had done so, a steady stream of people began to enter in front of him. What had been perfectly smooth steps now were disjointed as he tried to make a move forward but was quickly cut off by one person, and another, and another.

As he leaned back he finally felt the door click back into a permanently open position, staring at it for a long moment before wringing his hands and then calmly inserting himself into the steady stream of people going inside, putting himself in front of a young man as he slid inside, smoothing out the sides of his duster somewhat nervously like a bird trying to smooth down it's ruffled feathers. As he stepped inside of the big building, a slight frown touched his features at the sheer numble of people coming and going, as he looked around, hardly moving in the slightest, even when people roughly brushed up against him from behind.

Finally his eyes caught a sign that pointed to the main registration office, and he followed it, nimbly making his way through the crowd at an unhurried pace, seeming to keep a nearly perfect 1 foot barrier between himself and the people around him at all times, slipping this way and that to make it happen before he arrived in front of a place that was marked as 'Registration'. Looking down at the sheet, he stood there for a long quiet moment, not taking his eyes off of the paper, before he calmly looked up again, took a slow breath, and then nodding, quietly made his way forward towards the room.

Inside of the room there was a row of what anyone else might recognize as computers, all of which had screens that had a large button in the middle of them that said 'click here to start'. Quietly, the man in black strolled up, leaning in as if he were nearsighted to stare at the screen, tilting his head to the side for a moment, then tilting it to the other side before he calmly raised a gloved hand up, and as gently as he could, gingerly tapped the class CRT monitor screen. Nothing happened. Taking in a slow breath he tapped it a little harder, then harder still, pausing as he realized that any harder and he would break the glass screen of the thing, whichy he had learned, since his awakening, was not such a good idea.

"Psst, hey buddy, you're supposed to use the mouse." A student next to him instructed, pointing down to the oddly round shaped thing with a cord which disappeared off behind the desk.

Calmly, the man reached down a gloved hand, examining the contraption for a moment, before picking it up, hefting it in his hand calmly, getting a guess for it's weight, then taking a slow breath, nodded at the man next to him and lightly tapped the edge of the mouse against the computer screen where it instructed. Again, nothing happened. Frowning slightly, the man began to turn the mouse over in his hand until a bright red lazer caught him square in the eye, causing him to drop it quickly and take a step back, causing most of the people around to stare at him.

Desmond frowned. This was not going to be easy.

Quietly he walked to a desk which looked as if it might be for helping people, and lightly put his papers on the desk. "Ah, excuse me." he said softly, making certain that his words were of the proper tone for the age. The way he'd spoken first waking up had gotten him plenty of laughs, and it only took reading a newspaper a time or two for him to realize that language had, as it often did, changed over time, even if it thankfully was still the same language. Almost, anyway. It seemed as if the younger crowd often spoke in some hybrid language that was... more challenging to understand.

"Can I help you?" the woman at the counter asked.

"Yes, I'm here to, Ah, Register." Desmond said politely, handing her the manilla envelope.

"You know that you can do it over there, right?" The woman said, pointing to the computers behind him.

"Actually, I really cannot, Miss." Desmond replied politely, trying to smile.

"Oookay...Ah, yes, Mr. uhm, well, it looks as if they don't have a last name for you. What is your last name?"

Desmond paused for a moment. Names were such arbitrary things, Shakespeare had rightly pointed out that it was not the name but the object itself that bore importance, but it seemed as if few followed such a philosophy. "Mangas is my surname. I should have introduced myself earlier, Desmond Mangas, a pleasure to make your acquaintance mila-" Desmond paused as the woman had already moved on to doing something else. People of this age did not seem to like it when someone else spoke for overly long, even though they would go on at length if they were afforded the chance to speak.

"Alright, it looks like you're all set. As far as the housing arrangements go, I'm afraid there's been something of a mixup, and for now you're going to have to stay with Miss Dannika Richardson. Here's the address. Let me know if there's anything else that you need."

Desmond waited very patiently until she finished speaking before he spoke himself, even though he seemed a little flustered. "I ah, don't understand, Miss Richardson? As in female?"

"That is correct sir. She's going to be your roommate until we have a single bedroom open up for you as you requested."

"But... that is not, proper." Desmond tried to intone calmly. "She and I are not..."

"Mr. Mangas, it IS the 21st century, and while we don't usually do this, given that all of our mortal students are given a pendant when they come into the school, I'm sure that she will be able to restrain herself from jumping your bones for a few weeks. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Ah... jumping my bones?" Desmond asked politely.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Mangas?" the woman intoned, a bit more tersely.

"No... I... thank you." Desmond said politely as he quietly exited the registration room and made his way outside of the building towards a fountain in what looked to be an open area of the campus, sitting on the edge of it as he frowned slightly and stared at the ground. This was going to be MUCH harder than he thought.

Nothing is ever easy...

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beth_sawyer
2010-06-05 04:07 am UTC (link)

She'd wandered out here, maybe an hour ago, if not more, all that she knew was that the sun had changed positions in the sky. It wasn't a noticeable change unless you were paying close attention but she had, she'd been watching the clouds roll high in the sky and shift from one shape to the next as her iPod continued to play on and she continued to remain a flustered and with a feeling of being out of place here in these old halls.

Beth had an open heart that was always known for giving and healing of others, she never dealt well with the abuse of others, even if minor in comparison to some. The look upon that poor boys face, the anger he felt towards her was just enough to knock her off balance for the day and she sighed, her thoughts still heavy with the the image of his chiseled features and the glare of his eyes as they stared down upon her, threatening her as though she were some ignorant young child. What did he know about her? Nothing, she pouted momentarily and took a breath, reminding herself that he was just angry and did not know a thing about her, just as she knew nothing of him either, and honestly there were others in this world that had it worse than she did. A simple amount of hatred from one to another was nothing in comparison to the abuse that some had to live with daily.

Lying back in the warm green grass, dressed in a simple white lace dress and her cowboy boots she smiled to herself as her favorite band, Needtobreathe came on and began to sing, Something Beautiful. It was a dark figure however that brought her back to reality, whether he noticed her or not as she laid there in her own world of memories, sun kissed and lying on the dock of a lake with her boyfriend two summers ago, laughing and taking a running leap off of that dock with this band playing on the iPod that they shared together. Watching him from the corner of her eye she noted his body language, he was troubled by something of which she could not know, but she sat up, wishing to better his day, to try and ease his troubled mind.

"You okay?" She asked, crossing her boots at her ankles and shutting off her music.

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poeticmisery
2010-06-05 04:48 am UTC (link)

Dannika. Miss Richardson. Desmond chewed on his lip lightly at the thought of it. Was it really possible that cohabitation had become something that was normal for people without being indecent? As time had gone on there were few things that Desmond had learned to accept as constants. Politicians would always be, to a vast majority, corrupt. Men would always seek out a way to escape death. Creatures that were smart enough to realize what it was they were would always find a way to hate themselves and others, but most of all anything that they viewed as 'different'. And though it was to a much lesser degree, the idea that people did not share a house unless they were related or soon to be so was one of the things that he had taken for granted as being something that would wear the test of time.

Not to say that adultry did not happen, for any fool knew that it did. Hell, he himself had partaken in it... but... it was something that was punishable, certainly not something that was endorsed. And because it was not endorsed, one did not publically share a house with a member of the opposite sex because, well, people would talk. Having been the heart of many discussions by people, he didn't truly care what public opinion of him was beyond blending in, but blending in was a natural part of what he did. One did not survive through the spanish inquisition, after all, by standing out in a crowd. Even blending in as well as he did, he'd had some close calls when it came to the inquisition...

And now... now he had no idea how to blend in. The laughter that he'd recieved in the registration room had proved that beyond any shadow of doubt, as had the woman who had keenly pointed out what century it was, as if he should know as much without being told. How was it that men courted women in these times? Even now he could see people offering each other displays of their affection that would have been pubically indecent in the last years that he had remembered. There was even a time, when such a thing might be punishable by death, depending on what area of the world you lived in. It was all so deliriously, horrifically confusing and it made him lightly punch the fountain in a small display of anger that he normally would not have given.

His aching knuckles reminded him that while the sun was in the sky, he was as good as human, even if the razor sharp fangs in his mouth served to remind what would happen when the sun went down. Taking a slow breath, he tried to console himself with the fact that he was here to learn, that was the whole point of this. He did not need to learn any 'life skills' like the pamphlets said, he knew how to live on his own well enough, but it was the ways of society that he needed to study, and having been a student of many languages he knew that any real study of a society had to be done immersed in it, even if it was unpleasant or distasteful.

A soft voice stirred him from his thoughts... and shattered his peace.

He was covered in blood.

It clung to his clothes like a tropical rain, sticky and soiling everything that it touched. And though the sky was pitch above him, he did not hunger for that sweet coppery liquid that he could smell in the air. If anything it turned his stomach and made lurch angrily, threatening to spill it's contents if he opened his mouth for anything more than to suck in a quick, heated, heaving breath of foul air.

Blonde curls stuck to the blood on his face and had half dried there, so as he tried to move himself to look into her eyes he could feel it stretching his skin as crimson webs of coagulated blood connected her hair to him. Even the perfect blue sky of her eyes seemed darkened by the night around them, not shining the way that he knew it could, the way that he knew that it should. A shaky hand reached up to touch her cheek, the contact of it intoxicating, such silky smooth flesh tantalizing the tip of his fingertips. He cupped her cheek firmly and felt the coolness of it there, and winced visibly, felt a hot tear sear it's way across his cheek.

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poeticmisery
2010-06-05 04:49 am UTC (link)

Cool fingertips caressed his cheeks as those blue eyes stared through him the way that they always did, and he watched the crimson line of her lips arch into her perfect quiet smile as she swallowed at him. Softly they parted, then closed again, then parted and quivered there in front of him as a soft whisper came from them.

Those raspy words carved themselves into his soul for eternity.

"Please, Desmond. You... promised."

His hand came up to his right eye a moment before he felt the crimson tears that were brimming there overflow, and he caught it easily with his middle and ring finger, not leaving so much as a smear across his eyelid as he blinked away the rest of them. The girl seemed to inquisitive to not catch the look of pain that was etched across his face as he looked at her, intense as it was, but he forced himself to quietly smile anyway.

Every so often there was one... one who was so very... close.

But usually, if he was lucky, they were too enamoured with the way that he looked to notice the small details. "Yes, I... I'm just new here, is all..." he said softly, hoping that if she had noticed something that she would think that it was just frustration at his situation that had brought on his emotion and not something else...

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beth_sawyer
2010-06-05 05:05 am UTC (link)

Everyone was beyond different here, harder to read perhaps but this man before her, he was even more confusing than the last. There was an ocean of sadness behind his eyes and she felt her brow furrow with sadness for whatever his story must have been, she wished to wipe it away with her fingertips but could not and would not until she could help him.

She chewed upon her bottom lip and examined his choice in wording, the way he clasped his hands together and twisted them as though he could wash something clean and off of them. "Yeah, I'm new here too." She smiled small in hopes of brightening his day, maybe a friend was all that any of us would ever need in this world, someone to listen and someone to care. She noted the way he rubbed at his eye quickly, hoping that it went unnoticed and so she opted to avoid the subject, "where are you from?" She asked, "I'm from Oklahoma" and there it was again, another smile.

There was something about Beth that was always optimistic, always happy, anger or sadness was short lived within her fragile body, her heart was much too full and open, willing to better the world to focus on anything other than joy and love. "I'm Beth by the way." She extended a hand to him, wondering if he might shrug it off as many before him had, but in her book, manners went a long way.

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poeticmisery
2010-06-05 05:28 am UTC (link)

Desmond was not so absorbed in his own past that he did not notice the look that crossed the young girls face. Though his powers would not activate until the sun went down his pale blue eyes were still haunting as they took in her features, especially the way that they contrasted with the dark strainds of hair that fell sloppily over his forehead and his thick eyebrows. It was clear by the way that she acted that she was noticing something about him, and she was either nervous, or concerned in some way. Reading people was part of his specialty. A vampire hunter that did not know how to tell when someone was lying could easily be lead into an ambush by a thrall playing a part...

When she asked him where he was from, he paused slightly. It was often that he lied, and simply said that he was from Greece. It was a simple enough deception, as not many would be old enough to remember his accent, and certainly not this girl, who was clearly mortal. Taking a moment to make sure that he spoke softly enough so that it would be hard for her to notice his fangs if she had not already noticed the tears of blood that he had shed earlier, he found himself telling her the truth. "The first place that I remember living in was a place called Thrace." He said softly. There was little possibility that she would have any idea where in the world that was, unless she was a greek history buff.

As she extended a hand towards him, he paused, then glanced down at his own hands, which were covered in thick leather gloves. As she extended out her right hand he paused, looking down at his right glove which had been stained with the dark crimson tear he'd shed before. Something told him that anyone, even a vampire probably wouldn't appreciate a bloody handshake with someone they'd just met that moment. Which meant that he would either have to be impolite and decline, or find some other gesture of greeting to offer her.

Not thinking too much on it he slipped from the fountain where he was sitting down to one knee and took her right hand in his left, cool leather caressing the inside of her palm as he lightly turned it up and softly leaned forward to press his warm lips against the top of her hand in an old fashioned gesture that she had probably never experienced before. But in this day and age where people were rooming together as man and woman without causing a great scandal, that meant that being old fashioned was less forward... wasn't it?

"My name is Desmond." he intoned softly.

Hearing a giggle from some girls who passed his blue eyes shot up to them as they passed, and he stiffened slightly, realizing he probably did something wrong again. And then, of course, realized that he was still holding onto her hand, which would have seemed terribly forward in any age. He just wasn't fitting in well at all.

With a slightly flustered pause he awkwardly stood up, letting go of her hand as he began to nervously smooth out the creases in his long black duster again. "I should, probably ah... that is to say, I do not wish to take up all of your time, Miss Beth from Oklahoma..." he seemed to be getting more flustered by the moment as he took another quiet step backward.

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beth_sawyer
2010-06-05 05:53 am UTC (link)

There was something about him, his dress attire, and the way that he carried himself, either way Beth was pretty sure he was older than most, which caused her to wonder even more, who was he. She suddenly wondered if she were the only human here. And as he spoke of a place called Thrace she shook her head, "I'm sorry, I'm not really sure where that is...I'm kind of bad with dates and geography." She confessed with a smile as he sank down upon one knees and took her hand within his own, pressing a kiss upon it.

Though she were a bit taken aback Beth smiled, no one had ever done such a thing, not even her boyfriend. Sure she'd kissed Danny's hand, his palm too, but never before had he thought to be so romantic or bold. She liked that about Desmond. It showed a more romantic and gentle time, when men and woman spoke with poetry and eloquence, when they asked permission for such simple things as sharing a walk or conversation. Now a days people just burst right in and did as they pleased and though she were acustomed to such routines and ways, Beth did enjoy the beauty of past etiquette and formalities. This might explain why Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, and Charlotte Bronte were some of her favorite authors.

As passerbys created a fuss over Desmond's actions Beth shrugged and smiled, "don't let them get to you and you are not wasting my time. We're all a bit awkward and adjusting in our own right." She urged him, hoping to ease his worry. "Tell me more about where you first lived." She hoped maybe by questioning him about his homeland that it might settle him a bit, make him more comfortable, she hated to see anyone feeling out of place.

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poeticmisery
2010-06-05 06:20 am UTC (link)

The irony of her thoughts was that Desmond came from a time long before such idea of chivalry. In his time, wars were often ended by the raping and violating of women, and slow torture of the men. Not that Desmond had the faintest clue as to what was going through her pretty little head at the moment. Even if it were nightfall, he had no hope of being able to read her mind, only her body language, and at the moment, it didn't betray anything about her being taken about, or the fact that she liked anything in particular about him. There was only that smile, which could have meant she was just feeling friendly, or something more. But even as the thought crossed his mind he pushed it away.

Such things were not meant for him.

"Thrace is a country that was around Greece a long long time ago." He said quietly. He didn't particularly want to describe it any more than that. There were few towns back when he could remember there, most of it was simple huts that were partially made out of animal skins and furs. It had been a strange place to grow into manhood, but also one that played to his talents. In that society, strength was something that was valued above many things, and, once the sun had been darkened from the sky, one thing that he had gotten the edge on his competitors with. Still, it wasn't a particularly pleasant time to remember in his life. Then again, there wasn't many of those to speak of at all. And those that were held memories that stained them forever.

Beth seemed perfectly natural despite the fact that he had gotten flustered and taken a step back. It was then that she mentioned that everyone was awkward and adjusting in their own right. If she was particularly observant she would see a slight twitch of his face at the word awkward being used to describe him. So that was what she thought.... not that he could really blame her, with the way that he was acting. But the term awkward wasn't particularly flattering, and sort of implied that it was in his nature to be this way, which it actually wasn't. If she had looked like someone else things could have been... so very different. But instead she looked like...

Her next question made him openly pause, and whatever happiness that was on his features, fake or otherwise drained away in that particular moment, leaving a cool mask of non emotion, a desolate tundra compared to the warmth his previous smile had. He paused quietly, and swallowed for a moment, and then spoke so softly, that she might not be able to hear unless she leaned in to do so, given that he was standing a few steps back from her now. "I... first lived inside of a cell." he said simply, a bitter, honest truth that he had not shared with very many people. And the last one that he had done so without any urging, just happened to have hair like the sun and eyes like the clear sky.

"I am sorry, I am rambling, and I certainly did not intend to make things, awkward." he said softly, and then politely bowed at the waist to her. "I really should depart..."

This was going horribly.

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beth_sawyer
2010-06-05 07:08 am UTC (link)

She smiled, toying with her bottom lip between her fingertips as she listened to him to him speak of his home, she could have figured that it was either a part of Greece or nearby because he'd once before mentioned Greece. She could only imagine what the city must have looked like, then and now, if the city still existed. So much of Europe was left in ruins with the ever changing times and battles fought.

Watching as he shifted slightly she was curious to ask if he were okay but refrained, feeling as though it might be disrespectful to call attention to something within the situation that left him feeling uncomfortable. But his next sentence left her speechless and in shock, her jaw fell a bit and her eyes wide, it took several seconds to gather herself but by that point he'd already began apologizing and began to walk off.

"Wait... no." She pushed herself to her feet and reached for his hand, stopping him, "wait... please." She begged, looking up into his deep blue eyes, his height definitely adding to the intensity of his stature. "You didn't make anything awkward I promise. Now what do you mean you were in a cell?" That had not been the meaning of her question, she had never imagined that he would disclose such a private thing about himself to her. She had originally meant for him to tell her more of Thrace or Greece, never had she imagined that he would mention living in a cell like a prisoner. "Was it slavery?" She asked, "I mean that stuff still goes on today... and I'm very sorry for what you must have had to endure, I never meant to impose on your personal life like that... I...didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

She thought back to the missionary work she'd done in the past, the lives she'd helped, and the sadness that had filled some of the children's eyes, it couldn't even compare to the saddness that he seemed to hide deep in those blue eyes of his and she regretted her question immensely, wishing to take it all back just to spare him any further pain.

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poeticmisery
2010-06-06 12:33 am UTC (link)

Desmond had really done a number on it. Somehow they'd gone from her politely asking if he was alright to him telling her about the fact that he had grown up in a prison cell. Why it was that he had opted to open his mouth and waggle his tongue he couldn't begin to fathom, but the look on her face as she heard the words more than clearly told him that he should have just kept his past to himself. It hurt, too, because he could remember the way that he had been looked at by someone who looked so very much like Beth, so many years ago. One thing was crystal clear though, it just wasn't working out, he needed to turn around, before he did something even more embarassing to the young girl, or got himself a reputation for being an idiot.

It was sad that reputations were important, but when you came to learn, at least where he was from, and had a reputation for being unable to, that meant that it was unlikely to find people who were willing to teach you. And at this point, one thing had become abundantly clear. He definitely needed to figure out a way to learn more about the culture now.

He felt her hand grab his glove, and winced slightly. She would feel cooled blood stick to her fingertips. Desmond closed his eyes for a moment, took in a slow breath, and looked out at the distance before quietly turning towards her. There were times in life that you had to pretend to be brave, even if inside you were filled with confusion and self doubt. Dancing around like an idiot wasn't really getting him anywhere now, and she seemed more intent on apologizing, when she really had nothing to apologize for, if anyone did, it was him. Sighing a little he reached into his coat, and took a breath to explain. "It's tears, not the blood of something else..." he said quietly, trying to reassure her.

"And no, I was not a slave until I was a young man. Before then I was something, much, much worse." Lightly taking her wrist in his hand he pulled out a hankerchief and tried to soak up the blood from her hand, frowning a little as it still left the fingertips stained with thick blood. Staring into her eyes without saying a word he slowly brought her fingertips to his lips and then enveloped them between his lips, a surprisingly warm wet sensation flooding over the tips of her fingers as he lightly suckled the blood off of them. She was a mortal, and if curiousity got the better of her, she would likely find his blood not only intoxicating, but potentially addictive as well. It was certainly not what he wanted for her.

But beyond that, it was a calculated change. The eastern martial arts dealing with internal systems damage had such philosophies. His bashful nature was simply drawing her in, and so stepping away from her would simply inspire the chase, her to come closer, to come after him. When a soft style did not work, a more aggressive one was needed to counteract it. With any luck, a more forward approach would cause her to flutter back, and by that way he could leave her be, keep her innocence and purity in tact, and still not directly hurt her. It was a somewhat twisted game that wrenched at his insides as he played it, but then, it was not the first time he had done something against his nature to protect another.

Letting her fingertips fall from his lips he stepped in quietly and brought a leather gloved hand up to her cheek. He was close enough now that she would feel her chest brush against his own as she breathed, and he tilted her head up to look at him quietly as he stroked her cheek. Flawless pale blue eyes like solid winter ice stared at her as he spoke softly to her. Mortal as he was, there would be no mental command to it, but something told him that this close to her now, there really didn't need to be.

"Don't ask what happened before I was a slave, please." he beseeched her softly.

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beth_sawyer
2010-06-06 06:11 am UTC (link)

Suddenly nothing felt right about this situation, she was more than confused by both herself and by the stranger that stood before her. So close, much too close she though to herself as she began to take a step back when he apologized about the blood on her hands, explaining that it was merely tears rather than something more and she paused in step, even more confused. There was so much of this world that this small town girl needed to learn and quicker than imaginable, for if she did not, she would surely be swept up into something that would get the better of her and either break her or quite possibly worse.

He held her hand and then for a reason beyond her his perfect mouth was pressing in around her fingertips and she stood there, mouth agap and a mess. Licking her lips she bit down upon the corner and though her thoughts begged and argued with her to take a step back she could not, her heart continued to beat wildly as he looked down upon her. She thought of her family, tried to remind herself of her boyfriend, and even tried to remind herself of some prayer that she'd learned in sunday school as a child, but for the life of her she could barely remember her own name.

At the shift of his hand, the cup of her cheek she drew another breath in awe and then swallowed, licking her lips again as he spoke to her, urging her away from the question that rang out in her ears, a growing curiousity of his early years. Blinking finally shepressed her lips together as her mouth shut after moments agap, "I'm sorry..." She apologized and took an awkward step back, nearly falling backwards, but she pushed a hand to his chest, "I have a... uh... I have a boyfriend, Desmond. It was nice meeting you and I apologize for any ill history that I may have stired within you but I uh...I should... go. Thank you..." She swallowed again and took a shaky breath, one more step back, and her eyes never left his until she reminded herself that walking backwards was not really the safest thing for a clumbsy girl to do. Turning round she couldn't help one more glance over her shoulder back at him, those intense blue eyes, so captivating and haunting, so deep and dark, there was something much more there than just the sexuality that he obviously exuded. It was this glance back however that caused her to trip, catching herself before she fell entirely Beth laughed briefly at herself and gathered her composure,standing upright, and smoothing her dress before shaking her head at herself, running a hand through her golden curls.

"I'm in over my head here..." She whispered to herself, "heaven forgive me..." she begged to God above as she pushed open a nearby door and stepped inside, protected by the high walls and stairwells that climbed, protected by the passing students even, lost in their own right, lost in their own worlds and conversations, knowing not of the moment shared between two strangers only moments ago on such a beautiful day, standing on the green green grass, and beneath the bright sun. She drew another breath and took a step forward, focusing on continuing her day, focusing on making it back to her room safely without another interuption.

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poeticmisery
2010-06-06 07:49 am UTC (link)

Though he did not have his powers, he could practically hear her heart flutter at his touch, at the way that he moved. The coppery taste of his blood was sweet in his mouth, familiar, and deep down inside of himself he found himself wondering exactly what hers might taste like. It would be so easy to knick her fingertips now against his sharp fangs, just the slightest bit, apologize to her, and know for certain. But no, he could not do that to her, of all people, he could not do that to her. He loathed himself for even entertaining the thought as he silently cleaned her fingertips and then let them slip from his soft lips, watching the way that her pink tongue caressed her perfect lips, then pale white teeth sunk into them.

Soft blue eyes widened lightly with surprise as she spoke softly of having a boyfriend, but he held back the wince that came with added guilt for what he had done. What she must have thought of him. Boyfriends were, as he understood it, like a suitor of old, which meant that he was essentially doing this to a woman who had been promised to someone else. Thank the heavens that she was apologizing and stepping back the way that he had suspected that she might. But it was her words of apology for digging up something in his past that hit him where he did not expect it. If she only knew what things that she had brought up from his past, simply by being who she was.

When she took a step back his foot lifted ever so slightly as he prepared to take a step towards her and try to force a kiss upon her lips. It would put the final nail in the coffin. After all, only a scoundrel would make such a daring action to a woman who was trying to politely leave. It would just take a quick motion forward and she would never come within 20 feet of him again, and there would be no temptation, no friendship that could blossom into something more. There would be nothing and he could live here with the peace of mind that if he saw her, anywhere, he could politely excuse himself from the situation and have people understand. Hell, he might even look like a reformed man for doing such.

Dammit, just do it fast. Don't think about it, don't hesitate. It's like killing a vampire, if you hesitate like this, you're as good as dead. But she was stepping away, and he was letting her. His blue eyes stared quietly after her, but he didn't move, instead watched her as she walked backwards, his hands at his sides, gloves making a quiet popping sound as the leather stretched when he clenched his hands into fists, tighter with each step she took until they were shaking violently.

His fingers burned as he pushed gravelly dirt to finally cover the last of dirt over her grave. There was no shovel and so he had dug with his hands until they bled, and then kept digging as they had healed, causing the wound to reopen over and over again over the long hours that he worked on the grim task. The physical pain was a welcome syncopated beat to the dull hum of the anguish inside of him. Every time he had seen actors on stage in the throes of a similar situation, they had made motions of bawling, crying to the heavens, and yet here he was. And there was just.... nothing. He just felt... nothing inside, and he realized that he didn't want to rectify that at all.

As he closed his eyes he imagined her lifeless body there in the ground below him. Quietly, his blue eyes looked to the side of the mound, and he pondered for not the first time, digging a hole for himself. If Vampires were dead things, as a half-breed did that not make him half dead as well? And dead things belonged in the ground, not out walking amongst the living, pretending they were alive when they were really not. That was what he had been taught, that was the way that he had lived his life for... he couldn't remember how long anymore. If he was supposed to hunt vampires, then what happened when there was no more vampires left to hunt? Should he then just drop into the ground never to rise again?

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poeticmisery
2010-06-06 07:49 am UTC (link)

And if that was his ultimate fate, what did it hurt to expedite the process? What sin would it be for him to end his own suffering and lay there next to her, the way that a man might lay next to his wife? He was so very tired that his arms felt like lead, but he could manage to dig another hole. There would be other fools to take up the mantle of what he had tried to do. There would be others who could be merciless assassin's. God only knew there were other pitiful souls who would be made as half breeds, never knowing the love of one side or another. What did the loss of one half-breed really matter in the grand scheme of thimgs.

Crimson drops flecked over the grave as he leaned over it, looking up at the poor wooden cross that he'd driven into the ground as the sole marker of this place. He wanted to join her in the ground.

Desmond didn't turn as he heard the pair of boots scrape lightly against the earth, for he knew the weight and sound of them too well. The noise that had been made deliberately, as a courtesy.

"What do you want?" Desmond growled in a voice so dark that it did not sound like him.

"I came to apologize..."

Desmond found himself laughing without meaning to, a sharp, high pitched laughter. "Y-you came, to apologize. You came to apologize... to me." He tossed his headback and laughed as the red rivers from his eyes stained their way across his cheeks. "Go away, old man... save your breath."

"I also came to tell you that this was not your fault-"

"This wasn't my fault?" Anger reared up inside of him like a cobra threatening to strike as he spun around and came at the man. Desmond felt the man's hand on him but he batted it away as if it were nothing, his foot hooking behind the other man's heel and with a single fluid motion kicked his leg out from under him and sent him to the ground with his hand at the other man's throat. It was the first time Desmond had ever knocked him to the ground. "Of course it was my fault! She's dead because of me!!!"

"No, this is their fault. We'll make the arrangements and..."

"No! NO! I'm done following your code, old man, I'm done listening to you. When they die, I'm going to make it slow, and painful." Desmond bared his fangs at the man on the ground. "I don't care about the next life... they deserve hell in THIS one. If you try to stop me, I'll kill you first." Desmond could see the fear there in his eyes as he stared down at the man, and then released him, walking away from her, a soft whisper upon his lips.

"I'll never let it happen to another like you, Magdelena..."

When Beth glanced back over her shoulder she would see the pain he had hidden from here there, a pain that had not been on his features at all when he'd spoken to her, but there it was now, as easy to see as his black duster. His eyes closed tight he did not catch her looking at him as a slow crimson tear trailed a path down his right cheek, reiterating that he had not been lying to her about crying blood.

Hands shaking, he turned and walked in the opposite direction that she was headed, cursing his own weakness at not being more forceful when he turned her away.

Coward...

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