|
|
Post by Jusztina Draculesti on May 20, 2012 18:33:41 GMT -5
"...pesky mutts," the golden haired woman spoke bluntly and with a roll of her feline azure orbs. She sat in a lounge, encased in one way mirrors so she could see everyone outside but they could not see her. Up on the second floor, she could watch everyone in that particular club, the girls spinning around the pole with singles shoved into their g strings while men in suits and uniforms watched, drooling, and fantasizing about all the dirty things they would do for them. The gay and lesbian strip clubs were just a few blocks over, knowing how secretive they liked to be. She held a phone up to her ear, small diamond earrings in each. Wrapping the cord around her slender fingers as she sat on her side, long, bare legs lounged out next to her, she took a sip of the warm blood inside the martini glass. She was feeling particularly lethargic tonight, annoyed that she had had a run in with a silly werewolf. One of the elders smelled the mutt on her and she'd done what she'd done best: she bared her fangs to have him back off and then she continued on with whatever she was doing. Now, clad in a nude-toned silk slip that clung to her curves, she looked far from menacing and if anything more so seductive. She looked almost naked in that damn dress, simple, strappy silver heels on her feet. A silver chain hung around her neck with a single diamond at the end of it, resting on her collarbone, and that was about the extent of what she wore. She would have worn something different had she not awoken in such a fowl mood. Figuring she'd just been hungry, she had come here for a little drink before she'd go do some rounds through the clubs just to make sure everything was going the way it should before she did whatever else was on her agenda-she didn't feel like doing much, though.
The other person on the phone spoke endlessly, having done some kind of extensive research on werewolves. She knew of them, yes, and knew more than she probably should. It wasn't the first time she'd run into one but their bad smell and, what she considered, brutish behavior was what caused such a repulsion to her. She wished they were more civilized when they were beasts. Maybe they would be much more appealing? No. Probably not, "Yes, yes, I know,"
[/i] she said impatiently. Were they reading from a book? Or maybe even the internet? She could have done that herself. She simply wanted to know if there was anything new she didn't know about them, something she hadn't learned along the way. She couldn't count on such a mundane person, "You are as useless as they are,"[/i] she said, a bit exasperated, as she hung up the phone, nearly breaking it in the meantime. It wouldn't be the first time. She'd broken countless of things during one of her moods. It was then something below in the club caught her attention. Brushing her blonde locks out of her face, she walked over to the glass wall with the thick, velvet maroon curtains, eyes unmovable so her thick eyelashes covered in mascara looked like fans waiting, poised. As she caught sight of his face, her foul mood lightened, if only a tad bit. Maybe it was just the nightmares, the recurring memories that was bothering her - more so than her encounter with a werewolf following her around the city, much less a young one. The memories and nightmares were getting worse. She was starting to have trouble sleeping and she knew if she didn't get a hold of herself, control the conflict within her own mind she was sure to lose her sanity and thus, everything she worked so damn hard for. Taking another sip of her drink, she let her heels click along the wooden floors as she reached over and unlocked the door before heading over to the mini bar in the corner to fill up another glass with his favorite type of blood. She took her time, feeling intensely mortal despite her graceful movements and, with a twitch of her ear, she heard his footsteps through the noise of the club that was fairly muted in the room and then heard the door unlock. Company. She sometimes told herself he was nothing more than company or a shield but was he really? She wasn't even sure sometimes, "Thirsty?"[/i] she asked him over a bare shoulder as she finished and then held out the cup for him to take whether he wanted it or not. Why refuse blood? Especially handed to him so nicely in a martini glass? Walking over to him, she felt a mischievous grin fall onto her full lips as her finger reached up and traced his own, eyes firmly locked onto his, "I have missed you, Javier. Have I not been exciting enough for you that you are constantly away?"[/i] she was being sarcastic, simply amusing herself as always. She grabbed his chin and placed a kiss between his lips and his cheek before slipping past him to lock the door. Taking a sip of her drink, she went back over to the glass to look down at everyone. The lighting in the room was tremendously low, like candlelight the way she liked it. It was how her life had been as a mortal and she had the tendency to constantly switch between what is considered modern and tradition. She looked below at the heavily packed strip club/go go bar, her mind swimming and distracted as it normally was as of late. She thought that with more power, things would be easier. No longer would she be beneath anyone or treated as something on the side. No, she was the top... leech now. But it was more of a burden than she could ever imagine. But Javier was here and that was enough to ease her tensed shoulders, if only a tad bit for a little while. He'd become the embodiment of her sanity, maybe even what kept her grounded, but she wouldn't tell him that. Not in a thousand years. .[/font][/size][/justify][/blockquote][/div][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Javier de'Saavedra on May 29, 2012 15:44:04 GMT -5
Walking into the club, more than one individual noticed Javier. How could they not? Like most of his race, he was gorgeous. His black hair was swept back nonchalantly and his deep onyx eyes were pools of the darkest ink. His lips were a bit full, which made him have a perpetual pout that most individuals found irresistible. On his left ear there were two platinum studs, and one ruby earring. He was dressed in a black button-down shirt that hugged his torso quite well. The first three buttons were undone, showing his collar bones and, of course, his lean-muscled chest. He wore dark-grey corduroy pants before finally a pair of expensive leather-shoes.
He had just returned home from an excursion, this one had brought him as far away as Brazil. Why did he go so far? He didn’t even know himself, perhaps it was something about his Queen, his beautiful perfect Vampire Queen. He couldn’t exactly say what he felt for her, it was a very strange mix of the warm love directed to a mother, yet at the same time there was a deep infatuation. It bordered on something incestuous, most would frown upon the mixture of such emotions. But they were vampires, emotional prohibitions did not exist for them…or if they did, they more often than not could do little about it. He loved his queen with every fiber of his being, but sometimes she simply got too infuriating. She never returned his advances, but when he wasn’t making an effort she would tease him and play with him like cat with its food. A vampire’s emotions were already fragile and erratic, one did not play with it. It came to a point where he just couldn’t stand being in his state of limbo with the Queen, and so he left.
There was a village in Brazil, full of young girls. The men in the village were off in the Amazon, doing some activity involved with the cartel or something. Upon seeing the extremely handsome pale stranger alive they all became excited, and Javier could see the hungry-tinge in their eyes and he could smell the scents waft from beneath their skirts. He didn’t speak with any of them, predominantly because he didn’t speak at all, but the same night more than five visited his room in the local hostel. Javier was satisfied for that night; he quenched more than one thirst. However, it was temporary, fleeting even. In the end, his thoughts only returned to his queen: the suppleness of her skin, the golden color of her hair, the sweetness of her lips. Before he knew it, his Lamborghini Murceliago was speeding down the freeway making his way back to Arc City. And here he was, back in his coven home.
He didn’t bother going back to the mansion; he had drunk often enough from his queen that he could always point to her direction wherever he was. Upon entering into their territory, he didn’t find it difficult at all to zero-in on her staying at one of the clubs they owned. She was an addiction, one that he couldn’t break no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps, it was because deep inside he didn’t want to break it at all. He loved her too much, worshiped her too much. Deep inside, he knew that he would take anything he could get from her and his little temper tantrums would mean nothing because one way or another he’d come running back into her arms.
He rose up the stairs to her private room; at this proximity they both already sensed each other’s presence. He hovered his hand over the knob and slowly twisted his hand. As he did, there was a distinctive click as the lock came undone under the influence of his minor psychic powers. At once he was greeted by her voice, and it pleased his ears like a beautiful song he hadn’t heard in years. It felt like years.
"Thirsty?" she asked, holding out a martini glass of blood. She stood up from the chair and moved towards her, even in her walk her hips undulated as if she were performing a seductive dance. He met her hand half-way taking the glass from her, and as their hands touched Javier felt something move throughout his body that he never felt for anybody else. He took a sip from the glass and savored the taste; eastern European, female, aged eighteen years and full of angst. He swirled the crimson liquid beneath his nostrils enjoying the bouquet.
"I have missed you, Javier. Have I not been exciting enough for you that you are constantly away?" she said, keeping her feline eyes trained on his onyx ones.
Did she really? She undoubtedly felt him leaving the city, but why didn’t she follow? Why didn’t she try to stop him. That was another reason he had drifted so far and been gone so long. He was half-expecting for her to chase after him, but she didn’t and admittedly he felt hurt. He tried not to let any of it show on his face, or come out in his scent. Javier was often considered a query amongst his race. The emotionless vampire…that wasn’t true. Javier was just extremely effective at hiding them, most of the time. Now was not one of those, and with his queen he could rarely really hide anything. She’d smile at him, slowly peer from under her lashes and once again he was infatuated and obedient. The thought were beginning to rile him up again but suddenly –
Her lips pressed against his, but not quite. Only about a fourth of their lips touched, the rest of her full luscious lips only touched his cheek, but it was enough and all of Javier’s resentment and pain washed away under the wave of euphoria. He found his hand going up to the small of her back, tracing that delicate curve where it arched. One moment she was there, the next she was gone. Javier turned around just in time to see her lock the door.
”I hate you, you know that.” he signed with his free hand. The smile on his face showed that he didn’t mean it. Javier didn’t smile often, even now it was more or less only a half smile with only one side of his mouth curving up while the other stubbornly refused to move. But it was an attractive thing to look at nonetheless. If the woman he was after wasn’t Jusztina this smile would have been enough to sweep her off her feet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jusztina Draculesti on May 29, 2012 22:06:54 GMT -5
Standing at the window, she grabbed each end of the curtain and closed it as if she needed more privacy when no one could see through that glass anyway. She turned around in time to see Javier tell her he hated her and she felt a kind of warmth blossom in her stomach not because of his playful words, but because of that smile. She smirked devilishly at him as she quickly went behind him, wrapping her long legs around his waist so it was like she was crawling up on him from behind. In the process, she had set her glass down on a nearby coffee table. Nibbling at his ear as she wrapped her arms around his strong shoulder, she whispered in the quietest of voices, "Do not leave again...I can not go chasing after you when I have enough trouble here,"
[/i] it sounded more like a command but she did mean it sincerely. She hated it when he left and she knew, being the vampire queen, she could technically go after him, come and go as she pleased, but then again she couldn't. Not only would her pride not let her go after him to keep him from leaving, but with the way things were going here - anything but peaceful - she would feel like she was abandoning what she considered her family, "though absence does make the heart grow fonder,"[/i] her tone lightened up as she let her fangs slide out and glide against the perfect, marble skin of his neck, "I almost forgot what you tasted like," and she pricked his skin, not letting her fangs sink in, just managing to get a few drops onto her pearly whites. Then she licked the pinpricks her teeth made and nuzzled her face into his neck, "Brazilian women always taste the same,"[/i] she mentioned quietly, off handedly. A flash of jealousy bubbled into her mind and she imagined snapping their necks with her fingers for looking at Javier in such a way but just as quickly as it appeared, she forced herself to lock it up. He probably would have caught onto it, though. With him, she normally didn't bother trying to hide her emotions. There was no point when they were so heavily linked together - chained by blood till one of them or both of them died. Jusztina knew she'd die before Javier would. She didn't see herself living for the rest of eternity - not with the rate her mental stability was going. She had abused her blood speaking gift and was now suffering the consequences. Being unable to sleep, having constant voices in her head feeling like they were picking at her brain, then, when usually completely alone in her bedroom, she'd hallucinate that she was still a mortal - and it scared her...It was why she was being so hard on herself, not leaving the coven for any reason, not allowing anyone to step all over her. She'd done it in the past, always ruled with an iron fist, but it seemed to only one she seemed remotely close or affectionate toward was Javier. She wouldn't save him for no reason after all. Twisting her body around him so she faced him, she kept her long arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head while one leg remained wrapped around his waist as if to keep him from moving away from her, "Did you hear the news? I was stalked by a werewolf and insulted by a pretend-hell hound...and all because you thought Brazil was more fun,"[/i] her eyes traveled up his neck, bright orbs locking onto his own with a sort of frustration and venom in them. She was upset he had left...maybe she wouldn't have minded if he stayed in the same damn country but she couldn't help him should something go wrong - should he need her help. It was obvious her anger stemmed from worry and because she did care - she just had an odd way of showing it. After having gone through what she'd gone through in her mortal life, it was expected, though. Her husband killed her son. Her son...her flesh and blood, only a child! It was another reason why she was so overprotective of her new children, of Javier. Her late husband wasn't around to kill them but he was always present in her blood and so it was like he never went away, "You will have to make it up to me,"[/i] she was once again brushing her lips against his, again attempting to force her anger to settle down and shoving it down into the abyss that was her heart, "Make me feel better after such foul treatment,"[/i] she pushed him hard toward the couch, not caring if the blood in the glass was spilled. She'd get someone to clean it up or something. She hadn't entirely realized she really did miss Javier until she saw him again, her blue orbs glowing bright with anticipation, an excitement and adrenaline rush hitting her system at full speed. But that familiar warmth was there. Could she admit she loved Javier? Yes - but not in the way she knew he wanted her to. It didn't mean she didn't want him in such a way. Dear God, she always wanted him that way. No, she just couldn't bring herself to be as submissive as she had been while mortal - to be so completely devoted to someone only to have them betray you by taking away your own flesh and blood and then taking up other women because you simply weren't enough anymore. Vampires weren't known for being in monogamous relationships and she was sure Javier would understand...but he did owe it to her to make her feel better for running off on her in such a way. He proved his point and she'd let him have his mental victory. It didn't stop her from baring her four, sharp fangs at him, though, and then pounce, not even hesitating to sink those pearly teeth into his neck. After all, his blood would always be her favorite meal. [/font][/size][/justify][/blockquote][/div][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Javier de'Saavedra on Jun 10, 2012 18:23:01 GMT -5
One moment across the room, the next she was twined around him. Of course, Javier’s vampire eyes were able to follow her movements, and after centuries it was no longer so strange. She playfully nibbled at his ear, sending surges of electricity course through his body. Such a small action, the barest contact of skin on skin could somehow drive him so close to ecstasy. But she stopped, knowing through experience exactly how long Javier could resist. "Do not leave again...I can not go chasing after you when I have enough trouble here," she whispered in his ear.
A pang of guilt washed through Javier, but still there was a scorned rebelliousness inside him that refused to give in. It was not completely on his plate. A large part of why he had left had been because of her. Or at least that was how he saw it. Her next few words however, thawed the forming ice over his heart. "Though absence does make the heart grow fonder, I almost forgot what you tasted like,” she said, and he right away found himself to be giving in. Her fangs appeared and ever so lightly she drew blood from one of the main arteries that ran through his neck. Javier couldn’t help himself and he let out a breath as his own fangs slid out reflexively from the pleasure. She pulled away and Javier just watched her, the tiny window between her lips exposing as her tongue ran across her teeth to lick up his blood. Just the sight of it was already affecting Javier in ways he could not fully explain. Perhaps, he missed his queen more than he even dared to admit to himself.
"Brazilian women always taste the same," she said as she hid her face on the crook of his neck. Javier actually felt flattered because of the wave of jealousy that oozed out of her. Brazilian women did taste the same; their blood had a unique spice of life and zest for freedom. It was enjoyable, good for the occasional craving but in all honesty Javier found it much too vibrant a taste to feed on every day. She should know by now that it was her blood that he thirsted for the most. Through the link of them being so closely Blood-Spoken he could feel her jealousy even though she was working to stifle it. It was a thick almost tar-like emotion. She rarely stood for him having other lovers, which was also why he never displayed them in front of her. But complete abstinence would have been impossible for him. He was a vampire, a creature ruled by the primal instinct of pleasure, and she would understand that because she was one herself.
She contorted herself so that she now had her hands locked behind his neck and one of her legs hitched up and wrapped around his waist. Despite her frame being slighter than his, Javier knew that she was physically more powerful and that if she wanted to keep him from leaving, she most definitely could.
"Did you hear the news? I was stalked by a werewolf and insulted by a pretend-hell hound...and all because you thought Brazil was more fun," she was talking a lot, which was actually normal between them. She always had the role of carrying the conversation because Javier never spoke at all. He had actually heard snippet of the story about the werewolf and the human hell-hound. Not any actual narrative, but his mind gift picked up on details especially from the younger vampires who couldn’t quite forget about the incident. The human-hell hound – Kippen or Kilpen – was something of a running joke in the Draculesti coven. Many questioned the Queen’s decision to take him up in employ, but who were they to doubt the Queen’s decisions? He registered the frustration on her face and merely returned it with a playful smile to her chagrin.
"You will have to make it up to me," she said before she half-kissed him again, the hurt and the pain in her heart was subsiding and he could feel the steadily growing passion begin to overpower everything else. Creatures of Id, creatures of sensuality, such was their kind. "Make me feel better after such foul treatment," she said.
Javier knew that he was going to have to pay for what he did somehow, and sure enough she placed a hand over his chest before she pushed him. She displayed her physical power right away and despite his own strength he found himself practically flying across the room and landing on the couch. He now held on the empty martini glass, the contents all over the floor. Wasting the precious crimson liquid would have made any other vampire half-crazed, but it barely registered on Javier’s mind as all his focus was on his Queen. Once again she was on top of him, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Javier let go of the glass and it fell shattering as it hit the floor.
His hands went to her back, one running up its length while the other cradled the small of her back in an action almost tender. All conscious thought disappeared from Javier’s mind as he was lost in the sea of bliss. Without even thinking he pushed up from the couch, carrying Jusztina with him. They spun in the air before ending up with his back pressed against the ceiling and her still on top (although now technically she was under) of him. They defied the laws of gravity, their hair and clothing not dangling towards the floor but the other way instead. With everything that happened, never once did their lips leave each other’s company.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jusztina Draculesti on Jun 10, 2012 21:16:24 GMT -5
“He’s just another human, Jusztina.” The blonde glared at the other vampire, an elder, as she stood in clothing from an era long forgotten. Her golden curly mane was up in a decorative style, a corset pressing on her breasts, and black lace gloves on her fingers. She was pacing, back and forth in the brothel as she continued debating, continued to keep her eyes on the forty-something year old who was apparently much more wiser than she was, “He will be mine,” she stated firmly with the venom oozing from her throat. With her decision made, she turned her back on him, ready to go to the human she’d long been watching – to Javier and the abused lifestyle he was forced to lead, “He won’t replace Vlad. You know this. Why put yourself through the memories?” She stopped in her track at the elder’s voice, his words of solace and age, wisdom and knowledge. He said it as if he’d gone through the same path, beaten and trodden, that she had. Her hand was on the handle as she remained still, feeling the ache in her chest starting to form again – the edges still raw and unable to heal. She was silent for what seemed like an eternity, the two standing like marble statues before Jusztina turned the knob and without looking at him, spoke in the quietest, possibly the most broken voice she’d been able to possess since becoming a vampire, “That’s the point. I do not fancy another Vlad,” she finally glanced over her thin shoulder at him, at the elder she eventually watched burning at a stake only a few short years later due to the vampire hunters, “I want what he and I never had.”
And now here she was, centuries later, with that same human she’d turned; his hands roaming her frame before he swiftly moved them to the ceiling though she didn’t notice. Her dainty fingers grabbed at his clothing and tore them to shreds, letting them drop to the floor and get stained by some of the blood. Her hands ventured through the plains of his abdomen, one she’d long since memorized and committed perfectly to memory and where she felt the safest, where she felt as if she were home. He was hers, wasn’t he? She hadn’t lied to that man, Lisander had been his name. She had told him the truth, had spoken a promise that she turned into reality. Javier did become hers and she was mighty proud of her accomplishment though not in the sense that she won some kind of trophy – more like she won a competition where there wasn’t really one to begin with. He could have all the Brazilian women he wanted but he’d still always come back to her and that, for the past centuries, had been enough for her. She couldn’t necessarily complain, not when she’d employed the Hell Hound and taken it upon herself to, essentially, rape the man. She hadn’t slept around often, though, which was surprising for a vampire. It had to do with the way her mind had been swimming lately and constantly swimming in the wrong direction. Every memory was always much too vivid, much to mentally exhausting, and she found herself waking up every night with rage or sadness boiling up within her that she couldn’t get rid of. As a mortal, Jusztina should have never become the beast she was today – not when she’d been as innocent as she once was.
But her mind was focused on Javier, her lips parting from his own with a dangerous and seductive chuckle before her hand grabbed his jaw so he would look away as she bit into his chest, taking only a gulp before she flipped them, a challenging look appearing on her eyes. Her fingers tangled themselves into his hair as she brought his face down to her own chest so he can have a nice little snack before they really drove each other over the edge of that precarious cliff… A rollercoaster she could go on again and again and still always be more than satisfied.
Feline orbs wavered as she lay on her side, fingertips tracing the valleys and mountain peaks of his chiseled frame that reminded her of the Statues of David when it had first been created. She remained silent, her head cradled by a pillow from the sofa. She had no blankets in here – not that they needed it. The floor had an ornate rug that was plush and comfortable enough. She felt more rejuvenated, better than she had less than three hours ago before he’d arrived. Silence always managed to creep up on her and take a hold of her blood, keep her from simply relaxing and taking in the lovely scene of Javier before her. She didn’t let her eyes wander up to his face as she turned on her back, closing her eyelids like delicate petals with an arm draped over her concave stomach. The voices felt louder tonight but she willed them away as forcefully as possible before letting those crystal blues appear again, looking up at the ceiling as if studying it’s intricate design, “I planned a meeting with the Italian mage,” she spoke barely above a whisper, guilt eating away at her gut at the decision she had made but had not taken action on yet, “If anything should happen,”
[/i] she turned her head to look at him, “I’ve already spoken with the other elders that you will be taking my place,”[/i] a grave sense of seriousness entered her being at that moment as she reached over, her fingertips tracing his hand and wrist, forming shapes in his skin, “and promise me,”[/i] she looked down at nothing in particular before looking back at him with wavering eyes, “that no matter how many silly Brazilians you have,”[/i] she was changing the subject, not wanting to linger on what she had planned with Vincenzo, “You will always come back to me,”[/i] she turned back onto her side, bringing her nude form closer to his own. “I hate it when you leave,”[/i] she said it quietly, muffled into his chest as if she didn’t want him to hear her but she knew he had. That same ache crept into her chest and gripped her heart in a desperate embrace, wanting to squeeze the life out of it. She knew of Javier’s affections but hadn’t she known her husband’s as well? The betrayal, by the man she’d given her entire being to, her essence, her purity, her life still heavily sat on her shoulders. It would probably never go away and it was probably why she had so many issues now. Losing a son did that to people – and even more so when she had to hold his bloody body in her arms with a missing leg and a neck that was hacked away…shortly before being turned into a vampire. The experience had done a number on her trust, on her belief that love could exist somehow, and she figured that was why she was like this was Javier – adoring him and wanting him, longing so deeply for his constant presence but then wanting to remain distant, wanting to keep him at arm’s length should that ache come back so he can fix it with just his being in close proximity to her. [/font][/size][/justify][/blockquote][/div][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Javier de'Saavedra on Jun 14, 2012 12:53:38 GMT -5
The taste of her, her skin, her blood. Javier felt as if it was the closest his damned soul could get to heaven, spending time with her. All these times which he shared himself with his Queen he kept as cherished memories. They became a single entity lost in each other as they were, sharing not only their bodies but everything else about each other due to the benefits of being a vampire. There were times when Javier couldn’t distinguish which thoughts and feelings were his anymore, but it didn’t matter. In fact sometimes he preferred them like that. But it was over now, and both he and his Queen were satisfied of one of their most basic carnal urges.
He was lying on the floor, one of his arms folded behind his head like a make-shift pillow while his other one was wrapped around his Queen’s shoulders, for she was right there beside him. He felt her finger trip running up and down his abdomen, somehow still sending jolts of electricity despite them having been intimate in a much more physical manner. He made no move to stop her and merely closed his eyes basking in the moment when they were pressed against each other. Vampires always had ice cold skin, but that was when they touched other creatures, who had warm life-blood pumping through their veins. By comparison their essentially lifeless skin would indeed be ice. But against each other, it was surprisingly warm. A vampire touching another vampire would feel as warm as a human touching another human.
“I planned a meeting with the Italian mage,” Jusztina suddenly said, and it broke Javier from his languid state of peace. His eyes shot open, brows furrowing in anger but only reached until there. He generally disliked mages, if only due to the events that had happened in his life. They were a sad breed, the saddest amongst all the supernaturals for they thought themselves the most human still. But mages suffered from a different hunger, one unlike that which vampires and werewolves felt. They hungered for power, and they tread into the places where only Gods were allowed. In that regard, Javier thought them as the most monstrous race…and so he put them down.
“If anything should happen, I’ve already spoken with the other elders that you will be taking my place,” he didn’t like where her conversation was going. He especially didn’t like that she implied her own death. His Queen was the most powerful creature in this city; the Italian mage wouldn’t be able to touch her. But even though, Javier would tear open his stomach and strangle him with his own intestines if he ever so much as thought to harm his Queen. But then suddenly, the last part of her statement caught his attention. He was to replace her?
Javier moved to sit up and in his movements he forced her to do the same. He met his Queen’s eyes while his own radiated pure questioning. He didn’t understand what she was saying. He was not the most powerful vampire in the coven after her. And he was no leader, Lord Pain or the Harpist, or the other elders should ascend the Blood Throne, not him. The only experience in leadership he has was when he had been a Calmae, but that part of his life was over. He lived for her and her alone, and should she die Javier didn’t see any other option for himself other than stepping out to meet the sunrise.
“…and promise me, that no matter how many silly Brazilians you have, You will always come back to me,” she was obviously changing the subject. And perhaps sensing more questions bubbling inside him, she moved closer. “I hate it when you leave,” she said before resting her head upon his chest. At once, everything else seemed secondary, even his questions. Of course, they weren’t forgotten he made a mental note to confront her about suddenly springing up this plan of succession in his face, but for the mean time he wrapped his arm around her, folding her in a protective embrace. With his free hand he moved to touch her back with the point of his finger, and in a curling script he wrote the words.
”I promise”
|
|
|
|
Post by Jusztina Draculesti on Jun 17, 2012 14:27:17 GMT -5
She was going insane.
She could feel it, day in and day out, how she was starting to lose her grip, even if it was slightly, on reality. The memories and thoughts of others were starting to invade her own and she tried, though usually in vain, to keep herself from succumbing to their wishes especially when most of them told her to blindly kill herself for all the suffering she'd brought upon so many lives. Was she really any different than her husband? She always thought she was. She was stronger, didn't need to be married to have power, was a much more effective leader than he could ever be. But he had, in fact, killed thousands of people while mortal. He'd tortured thousands of innocent men, women, and children. He'd killed their youngest son. How was she any better? True, she did not turn children. She found it to be taboo, pointless, reckless. They would never grow past their initial stage of innocence. The youngest she ever turned was a seventeen year old. She never turned the Harpist. She'd been turned beforehand and was the only exception because she had been living in a time when seventeen was practically considered middle age.
But it seemed with every life she took, the more she felt her own slipping away. She'd been attempting it to keep it under wraps and had been successful in comparison to everyone within and outside the coven. She figured she'd successfully hidden the vibrant nightmares from Javier, especially when he left as often as he did, and now she realized she actually must have done a damn good job of it. She knew very well Vincenzo Stregoni could not kill her. She'd kill him first within a heartbeat. But if this deal did not go according to plan, she was surely going to lose her own throne whether it be from suicide or just losing her mind completely. She couldn't rule a coven from her chambers or a coffin. She had to be out, had to be mobile, had to be ready to fight whenever necessary - put her life on the line for everyone. If she had to sacrifice anything - she would sacrifice herself.
As she felt the words sketched into her lower back, she looked up at him with wavering eyes, her arms wrapped around his frame as she moved gently to sit on him, pushing him back so he was laying down. She followed, laying on top of him with her chin resting on his chest so she could still look at him, "Do you ever have nightmares, Javvie?" she asked quietly, tracing patterns into his skin, "Or memories that continue on repeat while you sleep? So vibrant it is as if you are reliving them over and over again?" if there was anyone she could speak to about this, it would have to be Javier, right? She wanted him as her successor. He could be a leader, she knew he could. She saw the potential even if he couldn't and though she actually hadn't spoken to the other elders about it, should he truly refuse the title, it would be passed down to the Harpist if only because she had very obvious experience in being able to handle things in a fairly similar fashion as Jusztina would, "I feel like I am losing this silly battle," she averted her eyes as if ashamed that she even had such a weakness though Javier was an obvious one. She didn't like showing she had problems or vulnerabilities but that was the beauty between her and Javier's relationship. It was okay - even if she thought it wasn't, "I do not want to control Arc in order to take control of this God foresaken world. I want to erase certain things from the past," which was never a good idea but it was obvious she was going about this in a selfish manner. She had never said why she wanted control of the Arc. Just that they, as the vampire race, needed to have it, "to end the madness."
|
|
