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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| Rooftop Observation | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 5 2009, 06:02 PM (471 Views) | |
| Freya LaShale | Jan 5 2009, 06:02 PM Post #1 |
Love Thief
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From the bow of the vessel, she had been watching for thirty minutes quietly as Reine grew, from the distance to docking. Every one of the sailors had a job to do, understood after years of routine. A few shouts were tossed back and forth, but all in all the entire mood of the voyage had been one of work. Emerald eyes darted back and forth over the vision of the wharf, subtly planning a path to push through the many people without getting stabbed or robbed. Her boots hit the wooden ramp rhythmically until after her feet found land. Her legs were quivering with the sensation of feeling solid mass after so many days of floating. It almost felt as if these rocks were swaying even more. Freya turned her attention to the gloves on her arms stopping just before her elbows and finished buckling them up, idly thumbing the fabric of the sleeves of a tea-stained shirt, which was too big for her, down beneath the leather hemming of the gloves. The same question she had every time she reached somewhere different began to scratch at the back of her head. Now what? What was the next step? Coming to a sketchy answer, she lifted her bag of things and flung it over her shoulder with a grunt before marching into the city. It was easy for her to find a place to sleep. She didn't care for luxuries. In fact, the dirtier it was, the more cockroaches that scattered across the floor, the more at home she felt. She had chosen a plain inn/tavern combo, the first that she found, and discovered that the state of the place was more than suited for her tastes. In the tiny room she owned for a few days, there was no bed, only blankets make of tweed and wool. She placed her things in a corner and continued to situate her surroundings until she could comfortably flop down on the pallet to rest. A knife was slid beneath the covers at her head just in case. She had slept for enough hours to awake after the sun had fallen well past the horizon. She strained to focus her eyes as she made her way down the staircase, down to the first floor. The tavern beneath was busy. Freya pushed past and left. It was time to explore and probably get something to eat as well. The streets were glowing with firelight. It was less crowded than before, what with many people tucked away for the night only begin all over again tomorrow. She stopped at a merchant's table and purchased bread, an apple, and some kind of exotic melon that smelled delicious. Afterwards, she climbed to the most accessible, highest place in town on top of a shingled roof to sit and watch people go by while she ate, breaking the bread on her knee. Sitting back with a sigh, Freya smiled subtly and enjoyed her uninterrupted moment of solitude. Edited by Freya LaShale, Jan 5 2009, 06:02 PM.
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 11 2009, 06:42 PM Post #2 |
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"...nice, isn't it?" One other dwelled above the streets, laid back on a roof just lower than, but only a foot apart from, the one upon which the woman perched. The being was male, clothed in black, with a mess of dark hair covering his eyes. He lay in the shadow of the higher roof, eyes set on the stars that twinkled so far above. Though peaceful, his lips were creased in a displeased frown, and beneath his bangs, his grey eyes were narrowed. It was his normal state; he had not felt happiness in quite some time. What he felt now could only be described as relief, though still troubled as it were. As he lay, blood streamed unchecked from a cut on his cheek: a gash perhaps two inches long, stained with a fresh crimson. By the way it continued to bleed it was evident that the lad paid no care to the wound- and why should he? It was his own doing after all. Himself, with the same blade that hung off his right side. The tip, hidden within its scabbard, was yet still stained with his blood. He'd be sure to clean it later, once he'd found a stream to cleanse the dagger in. Though the first to speak, the male kept oddly silent afterward, fixated on the many lights that sparkled high above them. His hands, held behind his head, pulled out from under it to clench into fists. He couldn't stand them... those many lights. What right had they to penetrate the darkness with their shining? Could the night not be left to its own devices without the meddling of a bunch of stars? "Mmph." He closed his eyes and turned away with a grunt, unable to continue glaring at the sky any longer. It was always like this: he was drawn to them, despite the hatred he had for the stars. Their light... their purity... he despised it. And yet he felt compelled to stare at them every night as he lay awake; it was a helpless cycle of hate and need. With a sigh his eyes reopened, staring across the roof with a depressed gaze. Absently his fingers rose to touch the seering cut across his cheek. Upon touching the warm fluid, his digits barely lingered before pulling away, the appendage held before his eyes. In the moonlight, and so the starlight, with the firelight glowing from below, he could just make out the red stain on his fingers. At it he stared, before releasing a heavier sigh and dropping the hand before his chest, his eyes staring ahead with a look of sadness and supressed pain. How much more could he tolerate? "I hate them," he muttered aloud, curling up more on the rooftop upon which he lay. The statement addressed no one in particular, nor was it made to anyone in particular. It was just a statement, neither said directly to her nor to himself. He just wanted to say it, to make that fact clear. If anything, he wanted to say it to the stars themselves, but such lights were deaf to human curses. If he even were human... he was yet still unsure if even that were truth. ((=3 Hope you don't mind little ol' me joining? XD And I hope you don't mind Soul. He's a bit nutters.)) |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 12 2009, 02:04 PM Post #3 |
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Love Thief
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Her content little uninterrupted moment lasted far less longer than she had hoped, the serene quiet abruptly ruined by the voice of some unfamiliar, neighboring shadow. She stopped mid-chew and, in no rush, lazily looked over to find the source of the voice, only to begin chewing again. She began to stare unintentionally with this sleepy look on her face that could very easily be confused with irritation. The silence drifted on. He grunted, though she knew not as to what exactly he was grunting about, nor did she particularly care, not because she wasn't somewhat intrigued by someone who would speak to her randomly - at least, that is what she assumed - but because she cared more for the mystery of why people did the things they did, and would allow it to linger to delay the gratification of figuring it out. It's always so much more rewarding that way. Freya swallowed and, with her hands full of food, leaned back in order to get her feet beneath her, only to rise and stand. The boots skiffed across the shingles until she reached the edge close to the adjacent roof. From there, she took a small leap and landed on the lower building, stepping over to where he was, disregarding the possible danger of walking up to a stranger in the dark of a secluded area. She plopped down beside him, brought the bread back up to her mouth, and took another bite. She said nothing, but seemed just as content where she was now as she had been on the other rooftop. Eventually, she handed him the apple she had bought, wanting to save the melon for herself. The shiny red fruit was tentatively placed in his lap, giving him no option to refuse it. "It's a magic apple, said to give you fiber and Vitamin C. Eat it," she told him non-chalantly, keeping her eyes on the grounds below with its dots of people here and there. (( Lol. No problem. I'm happy someone finally replied. )) |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 12 2009, 04:30 PM Post #4 |
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Even after making the initial contact, the male had proceeded to ignore the other roof-dweller. Instead he opted to let his mind rest silent, feeling only the sharp pain that stung his cheek. It felt calming, in his own twisted sense, and so he couldn't help but embrace it. As though it were a sign of something... a way he himself could be certain that everything were a reality, and that it perhaps did infer that he was human, like the other creatures that shared with him a likeness in physical features. It drew his mind away from much of what it was inclined to reach out to and attack with a fiery hate- the only time his anger settled at a dull roar. Yet even then, he couldn't help but be jumpy; especially as the ignored woman dropped from her roof to his. Even more so when an unwanted object was dropped into his lap, forcing him from his empty daze. With a small cry and a quick shuffle back, he startled away from her close proximity, the quick motion knocking the apple off his lap. His eyes were drawn to its round shape as it rolled down the roof, making no move after it as it tumbled to its demise. Instead, he turned his pale eyes to shoot the woman a glare, his teeth gritting between his jaws. In a sudden rage he snapped, his words not too intelligent a demand but still with the tone of one. "What for?" His body stiffened and his hands clenched into fists as he glowered at her, looking much like a black cat puffing out its fur in warning. If he had been a cat with the start he'd been given, his fur would be on end down to his very tail. But then he was soon settling, still glaring at her with a displeased frown. "What's wrong with your roof that you need to intrude on mine? I don't need your company, I don't know why I even spoke to you!" Quickly he hushed himself as his voice grew louder, a wary eye drifting to the people far below. He wasn't keen on dealing with a group of people in the least and would be glad to avoid such a confrontation. It weren't that he hated people entirely, just that he hadn't had a good experience around them in a long time; particularly so in a group. People always seemed to have an issue with him, be it his appearance or simply his attitude. Not that he could blame them- they had every reason to judge. But the fact that he understood their point of view didn't make the ordeal tolerable; he was still inclined to avoid their judgement. Yet he couldn't separate himself from them completely, unwelcomed to the thought of being entirely alone. Thus where he was now, amidst people and yet dettached from them... on a roof. A growl rumbled through his throat as he took his eyes away from her, staring hatefully at his feet. Now what was he to do? The present situation was clearly his fault, and just being nasty wasn't going to win him out of it. So what were his options then? "Look, I'm..." he had barely started speaking before a second growl sounded, this time lower. At the source of the rumble he shot a tired glare, a hand moving to apply pressure to the aching spot. His stomach, naturally, requesting the fruit he'd succeeded in promptly denying just a moment before. "I'm gonna go." He stated then, rising to his feet as he started away from her and her armful of food. As hungry as he was he didn't want to accept a stranger's offerings. Before jumping a gap to the next roof he called back to her, without sparing the courteousy to even glance back. "Sorry." ((And... hope that's fine. I promise he's not gonna get far. XD)) |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 12 2009, 06:42 PM Post #5 |
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Love Thief
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She jumped when he did, blinking, frozen in the position he made her take, at the rest of his outburst. She swallowed again after the long pause, then slowly her eyes moved in the direction the apple had fallen. Soon she was once again relaxed, without any fussing, and shifted in her seat, one leg stretched out, the other propped up with the hand holding the bread resting on its knee. Her head was tilted in a way that allowed all of her red locks to fall behind her. Freya held that pose as he finished and began to walk away. She was about to stop him and force him to pay her back for that apple, but she didn't really care for the display he had just made, so instead she laid down on the roof and stared back up at the sky, but the sky was boring so she immediately sat back up and tried watching the ground again, all the while commenting, "Don't be sorry. You acknowledge that you are not worthy of my company. There really is no other choice but to leave after I stole your roof." Her voice held a tone of subtle humor, signifying that she wasn't entirely serious about what she had just said. Well, this was certainly unexpected, but she had learned by now to take things as they come, to not be offended because some people are anti-social, and to not feel embarrassment because of it. The way she saw it, she claimed the roof in the name of LaShale. As its conqueror, she began her third attempt at finishing off the bread. Where was she? Ah yes. The bittersweet tranquility of being alone. Her mind had already forgotten the dark figure stalking off in a huff with no reason, similar to a teenage girl. |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 12 2009, 08:12 PM Post #6 |
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His progress only made it to the opposite edge of the adjacent roof before he was stopped again, with no other place to go. From that lone island there was only one other roof to jump to, and the gap between it and his own was far too great a distance. Eyeing the far roof for but a moment, his attention drifted down to the street. Like a gargoyle the lad stood over the commotion, watching behind shielded eyes. He was hungry, and his mind could not be swayed from the thought of food. Normally he'd just go get some himself, but in this case he was reluctant. In addition to the usual comments on his state of disarray he was bound to earn some concerned voices for the bleeding scar still on his cheek, just now starting to clot. It was something he just simply wasn't in the mood for, and that left him with little in way of options. Minus leaping to his death, a most tempting choice indeed, he had only the decision to return back the way he had come. The natural choice was taken, though not without a bit of aggrivated sulking. Walking slowly back to the roof he had dubbed and given up as his own, the dark boy came to pause at the edge, staring across at the girl that had taken up its claim. His light eyes gazed out at her from beneath dark hair, not glaring but not fully open. How should he approach this one? Given his less than charming personality, his selection was limited. Out of this list he opted for the one that suited him best, while further fouling his already sour presence: a rebuttal. "I wasn't leaving for your sake. I was going because I had to." A glance was spared to the short gap, his eyes narrowing at the dangerous space. He could clear it easily, but the darkness held below was almost inviting... if only not so far and out of reach. Dismissing his beloved shadow, he turned his attention back to the woman. No choice. He stood, not straight, but slouched at the ledge, with both hands stuffed into his pockets. Several shakes of his head could not disspell his hair from infront of his eyes, so a hand came free to brush aside the raven strands. Not a moment after the hand returned to its cavern did the hairs fall back before his eyes. With a tired sigh and a shrug, he proceeded to call out to her, his tone calm and undemanding. It wasn't quite a request, but yet a courteousy. "Now... if you wouldn't mind, I'd like back onto my roof." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 12 2009, 11:09 PM Post #7 |
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Love Thief
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Oh. So now he wanted back. He really should make up his mind. Indecisiveness was so very unattractive. But Freya, being the woman that she was, she cast a raised brow and a half smirk in his direction, once again swallowing the bit of food that was in her mouth. She would not pass up the chance to play with him, so long as he presented himself to her and was open to such taunting as he made himself now. "Nope," she replied simply, continuing to watch him with the same playful expression on her face. She couldn't care less about his personal problems, of which he seemed to ooze. It was simple, and if he couldn't grasp it, then he was just as pathetic as he seemed. She had responded to his first comment, she had left the security of her place to give him company, and on top of that, she had offered him food, all of which had been refused in the rudest way. So this was his punishment. Freya sighed and once again, she rose to stand, half a loaf of eaten bread in one hand, and the right slipping onto the hilt of her blade, idly fingering the grip, her fingernails caressing the soft suede. "I'll leave if you give me something," she offered, cocking her head to the side slightly. "Or you can fight me for it. Otherwise, be on your way. I don't want to waste my time with an ungrateful loser." It remained simple. He now had three choices. |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 13 2009, 09:17 AM Post #8 |
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The male inched back from the ledge, his mind temporarily drifting as he awaited a reply. He knew where he was going and was already preparing- he'd make the jump. But for all his readiness he was not set-up to accept the response he soon received. His eyes widened partially, turning up to stare at the woman. For a moment he stared, but soon with a furrowed brow. "No?" What, by goodness, was she on after now? Still determined, his back straightened, as his ears took in the rest of her reply. An ultimatum now, was it? How very much he despised such things. And the given options... how bothersome was she. Give, fight, or leave. Charming indeed, but he needed access to what was now her roof in order to depart anywhere. Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut then? That would have saved him this predicament. His body came near to picking an option for him as his anger began to flare, annoyed at the haughty behavior of this cocky female. Both hands shot to the weapons that hung from his waist, plucking at the hilts to tug the blades from their sheaths. A glint of metal shone at either side, and their pointed tips were soon in view; but as they rose into his own field of vision he paused, eyes drawn to his right blade. His own blood still stained its metal tip, dulling it to the faint light that danced across its metal surface. All at once he became disgusted with himself, slamming the weapons back into their place at his sides. It just wasn't worth it. "I'm not giving anything over to you and I'm not going to fight you, not over a stupid roof. But I am crossing here, and I will walk on that same surface." His declaration was bold and every bit stern. She wasn't going to stop him, not while he had anything to say about it. What reason had he to fear her? Because she carried a weapon? Goodness, if that was all, he'd let her cut him right there. But he'd be damned if he let his night be ruled by this high-dwelling demon. His voice was firm as he declared his next action, "I'm coming across now. You won't stop me." Following through, he backed further from the ledge. His muscles stiffened and then poised for the task at hand. It wasn't far, and wouldn't take much to leap, but he wanted to be ready incase she did try anything. Quick and sudden, he took a running jump to the other roof, and landed promptly on his feet. Wary still, his hand flew again to his dagger's hilt, prepared to whip it out should she try to attack him. He was ready for anything; or so he assumed. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 13 2009, 03:57 PM Post #9 |
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Love Thief
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"..." Her face wore a long expression, staring blankly at him and his 'courageous' proclamations. Freya kept her hand on the hilt, but straightened herself to her full height. "Good god you're boring," she commented, her tone dripping with as much disappointment as it could muster. When he did land on the roof, she took a step back, clearing a path for him, with her free arm outstretched in the direction she assumed he was taking. He was crossing. That meant he was leaving, and that was an option. Really, he only had the three to begin with. "Now hurry up and scamper away before I commit suicide from having to tolerate you." Once more, there was that hint of playfulness. No, she hadn't been a bit serious since this little game began. She never meant to instill fear into anyone, as apathetic as she was. All she had been seeking, is ever seeking, is a bit of excitement. Something new. Unfortunately, she had learned a while ago that this fellow would not be a provider. She might as well have run into a Lemming. His lack of passion was pathetic, his lack of being able to toss away his cares and live for the moment. Didn't he know that was the only way to live? Or was he one of those people with their heads so far up their asses they didn't know which was is up? How conceited. Certainly he felt as if he were the center of his little universe. Each passing thought did not make her hate him any more, or care about him any less. She was simply finished with him, and if he didn't leave, she would. His was not the company she sought. "Leaving is an option," she concluded. "I'm not going to stop you from simply crossing in order to do so. It's not as if this roof has my name on it, you know. It's not really mine." She felt she had to explain it to him as if she would a child. |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 14 2009, 09:38 AM Post #10 |
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He lingered, hand still clasped around his dagger's hilt, not willing to believe she'd allow him freedom so openly. Yet, as he paused, she still made no move to harm him, and, taking confidence in this, he relaxed his stance. Now, for him to take his leave and be rid of this displeasing woman. His own body straightened, though with no great achievement in height, as he proceeded to pass her. The truth was that he was of the unlucky few to be of short stature, so it was little doubt that her height exceeded his own, but still he'd move as proud as he possibly could, determined to put on an act of independence to beat out his own less positive shortcomings. He failed, dropping his posture with gritted teeth as the woman commanded his haste. Why should he? And how dare she assume? Perhaps he didn't wish to leave, now that she was ordering his departure. But that was mere childish rebellion, and he knew better than to fight for such a cause... didn't he? It was hard to suppress the desire to remain and face off against this arrogant opponent. He was far too used to it; never having grown up beyond that need for juvenile banter. Being dissocialized for so long certainly did hold that effect, it was hard to mature on your own. And here he was, some untellable age, with the barely-grown mentality of a thirteen year-old. He couldn't even tell how old he was, having lost track and stopped caring some time ago. Still, he knew better than to argue, based souly on his knowledge of the consequences. And still he pursued that need to fight; it just couldn't be let go. "Who said I was leaving?" Light eyes shot to her, narrowed only partially. He was daring her now, challenging her to follow through with her claim. Somehow he doubted she'd stick to her word; this one was no stronger than he was when it came to suicide. "Will you throw yourself off the roof or use that blade?" His characteristic angry frown curled up into his own mar of an arrogant smirk. What would she do if he stayed? She wouldn't actually kill herself, obviously. But if not that, did she intend to fight him? He couldn't say he was actually in the mood for a physical fight, but if need be... he was ready for it. Except his stomach was still crying out in hunger, and at that natural pain he cringed. The last time he ate? It had to have been... early, just two days before. Though in his corrupt world, early's definition was in the starting stages of night, just after the sun had given up its throne to the waiting moon. This negligence to eat regularly was not an uncommon thing for him, but it certainly did come with unwelcome consequences. He hissed through clenched teeth, an arm grasped over his aching abdomen. It was intolerable, and would likely ail him if this woman did wish to fight. Now, once again, he should have just kept his lips sealed and gone. But he really didn't want to be forced into light and greater company in search of food. Between two problems, he was narrowly cornered, with little in way of favorable options open to him. "Damn..." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 14 2009, 11:04 AM Post #11 |
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Love Thief
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As she stood there, watching him transform from a simpering wimp to a challenger, she let her arm fall as she took her hand off of her blade. Finally, he was showing some passion, she thought as she made her way over to him, taking her time with a saucy sway in her hips. His arrogant smirk raised his attractiveness meter by half. Perhaps he had some potential. Perhaps he was worth wasting some time on. When she arrived before him, she had the smile of a satisfied cat. "I choose option C," she said as her hand rose to gently slide her thumb over the blood caked onto his cheek in a successful attempt at cleaning it off. "Relax. Don't leave. I was never going to hurt you." The hand whose thumb was flaked in dry blood gradually slithered to caress his face before her fingertips found his dark locks. Her voice was a gentle purr by now. Her eyes would tell him that she was soothed, and probably also tell him that she wanted to soothe him too. Every gesture of her's by this point was all for him. One could hardly refuse a calming caress. Generally, no matter who or what you are, it was the most relaxing feeling in the world. "Your stomach sounds very angry at you. I normally wouldn't do this considering you destroyed my apple, but take some bread at least. We can sit here in peace and quiet, we don't have to say a word, and I'll go my separate way soon. Everything will be alright, I promise." "My name is Freya," she ended by giving her name, for how could he trust her if she kept that to herself? Freya took a step back and held up the rest of the bread for him to take, as opposed to shoving the food onto him as she had before. |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 14 2009, 01:47 PM Post #12 |
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His stomach settled for the moment, giving him enough time to let his arm drop back to his side. It was almost embarassing, being forced to show such a weakness, but it was something that simply couldn't be helped. Unexpected, however, was the woman's response to his dare. She was upon him before he knew it, a hand brushing the blood across his cheek. The touch made him jump, eyes wide. If he weren't already steadied in preparation for a fight he'd have gone tumbling backward in alarm. Firm on his feet, his panicked motions could do no more than lean back away, though even that action was limited, as her motions had sent a jolt through his spine, stiffening his back on instinct. He was still within this woman's reach, and soon caught within her grasp. Fortunately, her hold was gentle, and almost calming in a way, though it could barely erase the start it had given. Still, no matter how soothing, he was uncomfortable with her touch. "Please... don't." By the time she'd stepped back, his breathing had quickened to a pant, almost gasping as though her very touch had stolen his breath. He could almost feel himself shaking, an unsuppressable shudder coursing through his veins. When was the last time he'd been touched? A foreign hand without pain... too long a time to pick a number, he couldn't name such a memory existing. Yet here was a soft touch, promising not a drop of harm to come to him. He was still wary, but his heart lessened its quickened beat. It was alright. "Soul." He muttered as his body finally relaxed its stance, the state of panic now passed. The word felt both unfamiliar and nostalgic at once, like an item so long forgotten that the memories had become lost. It was his name, one of the few things from his past that he held tightly onto, though its use had become almost nonexistant over time. A soft sigh blew from his lips as she stepped back, releasing him from her hold. It was a relief to be free again, but the awkward sensation yet remained. His eyes followed her as she moved, the bread she had been eating earlier raised in offering. Rather than take it, he sunk back, and closed his eyes. "I can't... I mean..." His pale eyes reopened as he reached to accept the bread. Starvation was enough to quell his stubborn nature, but he still wouldn't eat until he'd had his say. "You don't have to go. After all... it's just a roof." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 14 2009, 02:16 PM Post #13 |
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Love Thief
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She took note of his surprise, but had been relentless to prove to him that her touch would offer him nothing but sweetness. Afterwards, she wore a subtle smile which made her out to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The potential of this guy was showing now more than ever, and she felt she had been wrong when she thought that she would not find what she was looking for in him. All she had to do now was push past his awkward front and arrive at a place when he would be able to speak openly to her. Freya, obviously, was never keen to beating around the bush. He said his name was Soul, but with the weird things parents named their children, she wasn't too surprised. Just once she'd like to run into an 'Anne' or 'Charlie' to mix things up. He really was similar to a frightened animal. She wondered what kind of abuse he must have taken to get to this point, the point of jumping every time she did something, as if he were expecting to get slapped. This was another pitiful trait of his, but instead of disgust, she was more sympathetic. He must have a real reason, not some fake one like 'my daddy never gave me hugs'. He took the bread from her and she lowered her arm, instead folding both across her chest and shifting her weight onto the other foot. "Well, hello, Soul. I know it's just a roof. It's the people on top of it that makes it something different. If I do stay, I'll only be able to stay for a little while. I have errands to run. This was just my breakfast." Freya sank and sat at Soul's feet, eyes wandering from his shoes, up his legs, and finally way up at his face. He was kind of cute. His exterior wasn't bad at all. It was the interior that was off-putting. Such a waste for a pretty face... "If you feel like you're bored and want to contact me, though, I'm staying at the Gull's Nest. Second floor, first door on the left," the red-head glanced down at her own shoes and began to fiddle with their stitching. "...If you haven't already gathered, I'm a fairly open individual and I do like company, so don't feel like you'd be intruding on anything. It's in my nature to want to offer you a place to be." |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 15 2009, 09:39 AM Post #14 |
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Soul stood silently, staring at her as she did at him. He wasn't sure what to make of it; he could accept her, and it hardly bothered him. The fact that it didn't bother him bothered him- he'd avoided people for so long that it seemed natural to not let anyone close. Everyone was just another face without a name, someone who could have been just another leaf on the tree. But now her face had come to have a meaning... and a name which to go by. For once he could identify with the world he stood so far apart from. Did that mean it was drawing him in closer? How long before it sucked him back in? He didn't like the thought; he was perfectly fine in his separate world. As fine as a person that purposely cut himself on more than one occasion could possibly be. Why should it change? Because someone had given him a name? Perhaps it was all a senseless worry- she would disappear and his world would remain as it had been: alone and desolate. A huff of breath escaped him as he dropped himself down beside her, his legs pulling out before him with his knees pulled loosely to his chest. He rested his arms upon them, the bread still held within his hand, as he cast his gaze absently at the habitation that dwelled about below. Looking in from the outside... how familiar a view that was. Nothing had changed; he just had to share his view with another for this night. With provocation from his still unappeased stomach, Soul brought the bread to his mouth and took a bite. It was a delicacy compared to his diet of campfire-roasted fish and wild fruit - sad a truth as it seemed. But without a job or any desire to walk among the those he had once assumed to be his race, he hadn't the opportunity for a bite of bread in quite a while. Something so simple as bread... he almost felt civilized. Almost. He ate quietly, carefully chewing each savory bite. But his mind did not dedicate itself to the meal, it wandered with the people on the street, whom strode unaware of the eyes above them. The need to speak burned in him, something that had been waiting for some time. No company meant no need for chatter, but this time there was an available ear- he needed to vent. "I hate the light." His tone had risen with a hint of disgust, cursing the people that lived their days in brightness. Not that he could blame them; his own hatred was a case of his childish nature, embodied in the need to hold a grudge. Part of it also stemmed from his fear, that his power would consume him. With the explosive effects that his unwieldy magic had he was wary of it in all its forms: natural and unnatural. Sometimes it felt that, were he exposed to sunlight, that his power just might combust then and there. Despite his survival being the logical proof that this was not the case, he couldn't quite shake the result of his imagination. So he hated it all. From that hate spawned a hate for almost everything, and his constant state of unending fury. His only source of soothing was the pain he self-inflicted... from there rage would grow until the cycle repeated itself: a cycle of pain and rage. No wonder he felt so tired. "And people... I probably wouldn't... I mean, I don't know where the Gull's Nest is. And even if I did..." By now he was mumbling, unconscious of his softening voice. His head just really wasn't into it. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 15 2009, 10:01 PM Post #15 |
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Love Thief
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Little did he know just how in touch with the world his night's companion actually was, how brutally smashed against the rocks of reality she had been, and how she now thrived on it. Truly, there couldn't have been a more of an odd couple under this Soarian sky, but that was just another unimportant little idea. The important one was that she was sitting on a roof with a strange guy, who had begun to talk to her as if he had finally decided that she was alright to speak to. The bandit watched him eat, delighted in her glorified victory. He was cute in the same way she would find a lost puppy. Lost, indeed, what exactly what she assumed he was, more in the metaphorical sense. Anger came from fear, which is spawned by misunderstanding. If he weren't lost, she would think he wouldn't have acted as panicked as he had upon their encounter. It made her want to take care of him, as any woman with a biological clock would want. Though, gods know nobody would imagine Freya with any hint of motherly instinct. On the contrary, that was exactly what got her into the mess that forced her to cross the bridge of no return. She also idly wondered if she could make him react again. But how? So many ways. She constructed a list in her head of all the possible things that would make his face twist into amusing expressions. A glint of deviousness shined in her dark green eyes, though who knew if he would be able to see it through the lack of light in his chosen, darkened spot. "You hate the light," she echoed, confirming to him that she was paying attention. "Well, I can certainly see how it can be rather irritating, but I think I'm missing a few pieces to solve the puzzle that is 'Soul.'" As he stuttered and puked out a disgrace of a sentence, she couldn't help but smile at his fumbling tongue. "Even if you did, what? Dare you go so far as to imagine being in my room? I'll keep the candles unlit if it pleases you. It would be pitch. You'd even be out of sight of the stars. Hmm..." she touched her lips, gazing up at the aforementioned stars. "Perhaps, all in all, my room is the best place for you to be." |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 16 2009, 09:33 AM Post #16 |
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"Mm." He hummed, pulling himself out of his absent daze. His eyes turned to her, though yet still hidden beneath dark hair. A hand attempted to brush the locks aside, but they had grown too long and too heavy to keep them aside for long- it took less than a minute for them to slide back in way of his view. Ignoring the nuisance, he regarded his company with a thorough gaze. For one accustomed to the darkness as he was, vision was not a matter of question. He noted the look in her eyes, but could give no name to it. Outcasted from society, the absurdity that made up emotion was a lost art to his mind; something undeveloped and struggling, that he could not perceive expression to the greatest extent. Forced to give up on interpreting the abnormality in her gaze, his head tilted back to the side, dismissing her from his sight. She questioned his muttering, drawing a grimmer expression from his lips. Why must she question it? He was uncomfortable around people, and even if she promised him no company but her own, he wasn't sure he'd want to be there. Let alone that he still could not comprehend why her presence had come to be acceptable to him, there remained the matter that he had not actually been in a room for years. Memories still dwelled of a time when he had existed within a human structure, but that time was so long ago... how long, he could not say, for like everything else he'd simply lost track of it. Everything shared relatively the same date. "Even if I did know where the Gull's Nest was... I'd be wary to visit." He admitted. Slouching forward, his arms folded and rested on the tops of his knees. For a moment his mind spun about in loops, attempting once more to comprehend why he was letting her in so close. What was it about her that made her seem alright? The thought flew away, batted at by the hand of irritation. No difficult idea or idle thought was permitted to thrive long in Soul's mind: he simply refused to allow it the opportunity. Matters he found hard to grasp were simply too much to trifle with; math, for example, was far from being Soul's strong point. He struggled with it, and ultimately tossed it aside. He lacked the will to face anything; his fears included. Working to appease his stomach, Soul hastened and finished off the bread. It was almost filling, considering his small appetite. Not a result of the uncounted years, Soul naturally ate a bird's meal; light foods that were unfilling for the average person could easily satisfy him. On the flipside, however, heavier foods could prove to be too much: he wasn't big on meat, especially white meats. "...I'm a mess, huh?" Soul's mouth curled into a faint smirk, taking humor in his pathetic state. Being around her just brought the fact out more and more, and made it harder to consider passively. He was a freak of sorts, a boy that despised the light. Or was he a boy? Why was it that he couldn't tell? It still felt as though he were a child, fleeing from things and still acting out in anger and rebellion. But he also felt a vague maturity, and questioned it. It was a stubborn question, one that refused to be swatted away, so he had to know the answer. "Freya... how old am I?" |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 16 2009, 01:31 PM Post #17 |
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Love Thief
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Another personality aspect he had just given her was that he was either too absent-minded, distracted, or flat out naive to know when a woman was making advances on him. Note taken, and no problem. Freya was not, in any way, put off by the notion that she would have to be blunt and obvious. After his comment about the unlikelihood of getting a visit from him, she folded her arms behind her head and reclined. The roof was still warm from the light of the day, and with such a massive surface area, it would still be a while yet before it lost all heat. Her mind was only paying half of its attention to him. The other was busy thinking of useless things, things that she had been training herself not to dwell on. Where would she go when this ended? She could start doing her job, but right now it sounded like more effort than it was worth, a reason why she loved being self-employed. Being a slacker, she generally did choose to procrastinate and wait until she was completely out of money first. As her face turned towards the sky, her mind was drawn away from the trivial. She began attempting to name the constellations. Her father taught her all of them when she was a child, but now she seemed to only be able to name four. In a defeated fashion, she returned her attention to Soul. "Yes, you're nuts," she agreed, smiling up at him, daring to reach up just to plunge her fingers into his mane and ruffle it black tresses. "But you're adorable because you're a mess. It really makes me want to squeal and give you lots of hungry hugs..." She paused for dramatic effect, then continued by saying, "But I won't. I'll respect your personal space ...err, for now. Expect it eventually. I don't have much self control." In this position, her entire form was open to him. The corset wrapped around her top half stretched against the tea-stained man's shirt she wore beneath it. Her hair was freely laying draped across the shingles, the brown faded in the darkness, revealing the red which was strikingly apparent here in the darkness. When he asked her what age he was, her brow rose, lost as to what to tell him. She was really bad with ages. Ever since she turned eighteen, everybody looked the same. She had become used to faces aged by stress and scars, and those who wore none actually looked younger, regardless of the truth. "Dunno. What does it matter?" |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 16 2009, 02:47 PM Post #18 |
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Soul's smile dropped completely, a bit put out at her blunt agreement. It certainly was true, and he wasn't about to deny it, but did she really have to put it like that? Being labeled as nuts was a lot less vague than just being a mess. Besides, it made him sound psychotic, which he wasn't. Or, he had assumed himself not to be so, but now that he thought about it... "Adorable?" He turned his head, giving her a questioning look. An eyebrow raised in inquiry, his voice taking on a confused pitch. She thought he was adorable? That a crazy, vicious, sulky, light-fearing rat such as himself could pass as adorable in any woman's eyes was pure baffling. And that she'd even want to hug him- now wasn't that a thought. Not as though her just touching his face wasn't bad, to have her smother him in her embrace seemed close to a nightmare. But then, the touch hadn't been too terrible. He could survive a hug if he really tried. A cringe was just barely supressed as he let the topic (hopefully) move on. It really wasn't a matter he wanted to address at the moment; he'd be content to let his phobias lie undisturbed for a time. Irrational fears indeed. "Ah, well... I just... I lost track of the years some time ago, so I don't know just how much time has passed. In my head, I'm still thirteen, probably fourteen. But I don't know... like I said, it's been awhile." His shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug. He just couldn't get his head around the idea that he might be a true adult already- it seemed impossible. It couldn't have been too long since he'd run away... could it? "I doubt I could even guess my age now... eighteen, maybe? Even nineteen, I suppose." He shrugged again, uncertain and at a loss. It seemed impossible that he could possibly be any older. He just couldn't be a man now, that would be ridiculous. Or atleast, he thought so. It seemed like yet another fear, that he might be an adult already and had spent so many years on his own. He didn't like to think himself as that far gone from civilised life, but did it seem that farfetched? At his true best guess, he'd assume he might have been twenty-three, but his mind didn't like to accept that answer, so he kept it modestly lower. "I think... people should really know how old they are. It proves that you have a hold on your life, and aren't just letting the wind carry you off. Like me." |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 16 2009, 03:06 PM Post #19 |
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Love Thief
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Her eyes went wide when he suggested the teens. Eighteen wasn't so bad, but fourteen!? His mind must be far away from his body. However, he was beginning to touch on a subject that she knew much about through experience. Yes, waking up and realizing you're an adult with responsibility, and death is creeping closer. It's a scary thought for anyone to ponder. "Why can't you have both? Have a hold on your life and let the wind take you?" Freya finally sat up, hugging her knees and resting her head on top of them, craning it to the side to watch him. "Time is an interesting thing and its effects it has on us," she continued. "But you can't fight it. Peace lies with acceptance. As soon as you can accept it, you can move on, away from the things you hate, towards the things you love. I say this with experience. You know, I was as hateful as you are once upon a time." Her eyes wandered, her head shifting to stare back down at the ground. Fewer people were wandering around. It was getting close to looking like a ghost town. "It wasn't until I faced it, then embraced it, that I found a whole new world of amazing things. One could say I've become masochistic, or addicted to the horrors of average, every day life. Even still, many people choose not to acknowledge it well beyond the proper time, and their life keeps getting screwed up because of it. I guess... I guess it's like Iodine. It hurts like a bitch on the initial contact, but the pain subsides and you heal rapidly..." Her gaze turned glassy. She was not really looking where her eyes were focused, but somewhere else not present. Her tone slowed, softened, and it may have seemed as if she were just rambling off to herself. "And soon, you can make use of your tolerance to that sort of thing. If you see the world the way it truely is, uninhibited by fear, anger, obsession, or love, you can see the things most people don't - won't see... Then it's beautiful. The most rewarding and fulfilling thing you could ever experience, like you're special." And all this came from him simply stating that people ought to know their age. At the end, she remained in her trance, quietly buried away within the scars of her heart and flashbacks of the past. |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 17 2009, 09:35 AM Post #20 |
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Soul watched her, his expression unchanging. Inside, he was trying to sort through what she said and pick out the gist of what it all meant. It wasn't easy, but he figured he could make out the important parts. For one, to let go of the bad things in life. As logical as that was, he was too filled with hate and anger to really see the things he liked in life. That must have come from all the years of doing nothing but hating. The last time he'd found something to like? Well, he probably shunned it. There was a great lack of trust in Soul; he was afraid to put much faith in anything, wary of it turning its back on him. The last thing he wanted was to be given-up on again; allowed to be dragged off into an endless nightmare. The more he tried to figure out what Freya was telling him, the more he came to realise that she herself had been dragged through the same sort of muck he had, though with very different results. Her situation was likely much much different, but the concept still seemed similar; they'd been through a hard spot in life, and both emerged changed because of it. In his case, he'd come out a hateful mess of a person, and in her case, she'd rediscovered life. Her results seemed more favorable, he wasn't quite certain on her mental stability. She just seemed a little... off. "My world is fear. And anger. I will never see through that cloud of emotion to the world that you see, Freya, I don't think I was ever meant to." His posture loosened, one leg sliding out before him to lay out straight against the roof. The other remained against his chest, the corresponding elbow still making use of it as a resting point. It did seem true- how could anyone expect him to accept the world when it refused to accept him? After it had taken him from his peace and tossed him into hell... it had been a waking nightmare, one that he could not twist into a dream. No one could possibly expect him to see the world with unclouded eyes after that. "The world rejected me, so I shun it in return. I don't want to see any more of it than I have to, so a clouded view may just be ideal... I don't have to look further than I want to look, and my world remains closed around me." He closed his eyes, feeling out into his small and desolate world. It had just one intruder in its midst, but even then it remained mostly isolated. He liked it better that way- less people to worry about in relation to his life. Though the one person had made theirself directly involved with him, he wasn't too concerned about it. Freya's presence proved that he hadn't lost his capability for human speech. That was reassuring, in an odd sense. For a skill unnecessary in his closed-off like, he felt particularly attached to it. It made him feel like he was still mostly civilised, despite proof against it. There was one truth he recognised; and he couldn't help but to acknowledge it. For all his desire to be alone, it was the one thing he was afraid of. He didn't want to be completely devoid of human contact, and the fact that he was even in this town talking to some strange girl on a rooftop was enough to prove it. For the thing he shied towards, it was one of his greatest fears- he knew how it felt to be alone, with no one to talk to or interact with. It had been a terrible experience, and he'd never want to go back to it. Soul dropped back with a frustrated groan, his hands covering his face. Just thinking about it was a pain, but it had made him realise something, "I'm a damned walking contradiction!" |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 18 2009, 02:50 PM Post #21 |
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Love Thief
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Taking all into account, when his back hit the roof beside her, she laughed at the sky, a flighty, ironic giggle which eventually played out into a heavy sigh. "Soul..." she began, turning her head to the side to face him. "I'm probably not the best person for your problems. You can confide in me, and I'll give you nothing but open doors, but unfortunately, you probably won't ever see me again after tonight. You need someone who will return to you, someone stable. For your sake, I wish I could be that person, but unfortunately, no matter how much progress you make tonight, it will probably all unravel once I'm gone." In such close proximities, a spark of excitement lit inside her chest. It would be so easy to just reach over and touch him. A whole body was always intriguing. You saw them everywhere, but since walking up and just rubbing your hands in their face was socially unacceptable, it was always a surprise to find mass and bulk there. If you touched someone, they would feel warm and alive, something that many have never really considered. Freya was not a completely socially acceptable person, though. She turned on her side, propping her elbow up on the surface and rested her head on her palm. The other hand snaked forward, once again finding his face. There it was. Bulk. To really know that there was someone here who was not her, had an entirely different life with entirely different experiences, who thinks entirely different things, was confounding. "My dear, remember that you are only as messed up as many other people in this world. There is probably someone, sitting alone, with the same hate as you eating them up, without someone to talk to. But, if you feel that your own little world is comfortable, then why change it?" The arm beneath her head stretched out above her, laying in a line for her to then rest her cheek on. "Myself? Personally, I can't imagine going back to that state. Not with all the wonders and fun there is out there." |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 18 2009, 10:18 PM Post #22 |
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Catching the motion of her hand out of the corner of his eye, Soul braced himself for its encounter. He barely flinched under her touch, learning after the first time to accept the gentle touch. It still bothered him in its unfamiliarity, but he could grow accustomed to it if he had to. Much as he had grown accustomed to his nocturnal life; anything could grow on a person over time. This night, however, Freya had been lucky, for if it had been any other time, a time when he hadn't taken a slice of his own flesh, things would have been much different. In the likely case, they would have fought, or he'd have wordlessly left. Soul on a normal day was far from being a sociable Soul- Freya had had fortune in finding him in his calmer state of mind. That was, if being forced to associate with a dark-loving psycho could be counted as fortune. "I'm not worried." He admitted, his arms moving to rest just above his head. For all she said, he wasn't the least bit concerned. She could come... she could go... they could never meet again. As far as he saw it, this was going to be one large discrepancy in his otherwise consistent life. It weren't as though there were any means to track him down, after all. Soul kept no address- he came and went as he pleased. He was just like Freya, it seemed; unreturning. Perhaps their wandering paths would one day clash, but even if not, it failed to bother him. He hadn't grown particularly attached in the short time they had spent in eachother's company... no, he certainly hadn't. Which clearly explained his quick tolerance for her touching him. "I'm a wanderer, as you are, so it isn't as though we have a place to meet anyway. If we see eachother again, it'll be by coincidence. But I'd never rely on such a thing... in any case, I keep to the forests. If I'm in town at all I'm above everything, because it's where people usually aren't." He huffed a little, dropping his arms to cross them over his chest. His pale eyes turned to narrow at Freya, his lips pulling into a teasing smirk. "But I guess that isn't always the case, is it? Perhaps I should visit towns less often then. As you know, I'm not one for company." He pulled himself upright with a bit of effort, managing to sit up without use of his hands. The flat of his boots pressed against the rooftop, well prepared to return their master to his feet. But for the moment, he stayed, staring out at the streets below. A moment passed as he sat there silently, stray thoughts making brief rounds through his head. Few lingered long, Soul forcing away his link to his fellow humankind. He couldn't fully connect with them. He wouldn't allow himself to. |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 21 2009, 11:54 PM Post #23 |
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Love Thief
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"Hmm..." she sighed, and sat up after him, a smile playing on her features after he had chosen to bestow with her a smirk. Once again, she was somewhat disappointed that he didn't put up much of a fight, but it couldn't be helped. She didn't care that much to alter his way of thinking. It wouldn't make any difference to her. She supposed she wouldn't even walk away feeling any more elated. Still, her hand plopped down onto his head again, giving his mess of hair another ruffle, "Just remember to eat. You can either live or die, but either way it's not necessary to starve yourself, alright?" She folded her arms and set them onto her knees, holding the fetal position beside him, joining his moments of watching. They could both pass for gargoyles there. "Soul..." she finally chimed, breaking the quiet. "I don't mean to offend, but... you've never done anything with a woman, have you? Once again, I'm sorry if my assuming angers you, but you know that's a great ...uhm... stress reliever. Without it, you can go insane ...kind of like how you are now." Freya rubbed the back of her neck. She didn't quite know what she was saying, for if she did, it would be much more blunt and to the point. For now, until she got her thoughts straightened out, she guessed they would both be slightly confused. For him, possibly angry. She knew this subject was an embarrassing one for other people. Not her, of course. As usual, she was an open book. These days, the line between socially acceptable and not acceptable was blurring rather badly. |
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| Griffin Reeve | Jan 22 2009, 09:29 AM Post #24 |
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"Tch." Soul closed his eyes as she ruffled his hair, not too open to but not rejecting her apparent need to touch his head. He couldn't understand it, but he lacked will or reason to deny her. The thought did pass his mind, however, that her caresses were quite unwarily leaving marks on her hands. Aside from the dirt improperly washed from his face there was the black stain that came from the contact with his hair. He considered remarking on it, but stopped at her vague question. Blinking in a blank and lost way, like a naive little child that just had no clue, Soul tilted his head to the side with a puzzled look. His undeveloped mind failed in making the connection that her words implied; and it weren't as though he had a social standing that would have encouraged such knowledge. Unable to grasp what she meant, his shoulders rose and fell with a shrug, and he answered with the best answer he could come up with. "I haven't really been around people in years..." His fingers ran through his own mess of hair, rubbing and ruffling through the black and tangled mess. Running his hand back along his head, he paused, and chuckled a little. Avoiding his ignorance, he changed the subject, deciding now was a good time to warn her about the marks coming off on her hands. "You might want to stop touching me. Particularly my hair..." Smirking, he pointed simply at her hands in indication. "I'm not naturally dark-haired." The smirk cut off with a heavy sigh as he ruffled his hand again through his own hair. He ran it through a few times before holding it before him, looking at the stain on his own hand. The "dye" he used was hardly the best means. It did the job, but with results just as messy as the hair it resided in. "I've been meaning to dye it properly, I swear. I just... haven't." Shaking his head, he rubbed the black ink off on his pants. That was all it was, just ink. It was essentially the one thing he was willing to go in town for; really in town, and actually in the street among other people. But ink, however easy to come by, was far from being the best means to dye his naturally light hair. Every time he got wet the bulk of it would wash away, forcing him to avoid water as much as possible. Hence the dirt that smeared his skin and clothes- he couldn't afford much, and what he did get in occasional pay (from the odd jobs he'd take from time to time; usually menial work that requires as little human interaction as possible) usually went to upkeep with the dark color of his hair. ((=D Smooth dodge of subject! *flees before Wolfie can get out the hammer*)) |
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| Freya LaShale | Jan 24 2009, 12:30 AM Post #25 |
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Love Thief
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Now that he had mentioned it, he really was rather dirty. Freya brought her gloved hand to her face - sure enough, black ink had stained her fingers and the fabric. She would never have known in the darkness there until the next light. Though, dirty gloves would never break her spirit. She laughed, utterly delighted that her gloves with forever be stained in rememberance of the fellow with whom she had spent a night on a roof in Reine. She could assume that his natural color was something wholly contrasting, like blond. It would seem to be his luck. "Soul," she began, putting her hand down. Even after laughing, she couldn't stop smiling, "...Would you wait here for me for a little while, while I go do something? It won't take too long." Being as impatient as she was, the buxom red-head stood, and without his consent, dove onto the adjacent roof in order to climb back down. On that journey, she missed her footing, causing her body to react in an attempt to regain her balance - but it was a failure. She had gotten far enough to not wound herself on the landing, but still, a groan issued from her throat. It took a total of five seconds to get back on her feet before she disappeared into the darkness of the town. Her mission was simple and it would be thorough. By now, the streets were almost clear, save for a few night owls like herself and some of whom have not yer finished their daily tasks. Regardless, it was enough to break into a few shops, take what she needed, and leave without a trace, save for the missing items. The entire ordeal took longer than she had hoped, considering the places she had chosen were somewhat far apart, but a while later, she once again climbed to meet back up with her night's companion. She hoped he hadn't taken the chance to flee, but if he had, then so be it. There was little she could do about it. |
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