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Post by dax on Jan 20, 2013 2:30:54 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center] [style=width: 420px; font-family: impact; font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #5c514c; align: center; margin-top: -10px;]Lock 'n' load and I'm ready to go! [/style] | [style=width:210px; background-color: #343235; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase;margin-left: -225px; overflow:auto; height: 450px; color: #5c514c;margin-top: 2px; ] The wild, pounding music was about as intoxicating as the heavy drink that was currently in his hand as he leaned easily against a counter, a smooth grin on his face as he talked up some pretty brunette. He'd been there for a few hours already and by the time he'd managed to weasel his way up to third floor, without the pet cuff that was conveniently misplaced at home, he'd been more than a little buzzed. Parties were always better up on third floor, though he'd started to get the feeling that some of them were a bit suspicious of him. So he'd made his way back to first floor, where things were a bit...less...well, less high-class, more wild. The brunette he was chatting up had been very forth-coming about pretty much anything he asked about. It only took a slick, cheeky grin and perhaps a wink or two before the woman was practically eating out of his palm. Sure, he was a pet, not that this woman knew that, and Elizabeth would probably have his hide if she knew that he was impersonating a vampire. Not only that but he had a nasty habit calling himself a Scott.
Not that he'd let anyone find out about that particular habit. He was careful not to throw around that name too much, in case someone who actually knew the Scott family might catch wind of it. But truthfully, he could look like a Scott. He had the blue eyes, the defining cheek bones, the dark hair. It wasn't a complete stretch to introduce himself as Dax Scott, instead of Dax Bertolette. But tonight he was in a place that he frequented quite often, so he wasn't going to be dropping the name Scott anytime soon. Though he did always pass himself off as a vampire here, he hadn't ever worn the cuff that proclaimed him a pet. He'd even made an effort to make sure there weren't any loopholes in his story by putting a tattoo on himself. It was actually fantastically made, he was very good with his hands. He'd put it on his left wrist, just a small little black mark. He'd told Elizabeth that he got bored, doodled on himself because he was too lazy to go find some paper. Whether she believed that or not didn't particularly matter to him, considering she hadn't said anything more about it.
So here he was, chatting with this attractive woman, more than a little drunk, talking animatedly about many things that really didn't matter. After a few more rambled sentences he set both their drinks on the counter and dragged her onto the dance floor, having no fear in pulling her close to him, dancing to the beat of the heavy music along with the other bodies surrounding them. He was drunk enough that his mind didn't immediately focus on the single thought of I wish this was Elizabeth, and instead only focused on the feel of the woman before him. It happened every time he went out, every time he ever kissed another woman. Elizabeth had wormed her way into his mind, into his heart if he was being honest. But what could he do? She was his owner, he was but a pet. She probably had bought him because of the fact he could play the piano so damn well and that was it. He was but a mere private pianist for her, someone to play soothing music for her as she went about her day. But god did he want her, it wasn't hard to admit it, and it wasn't just a physical need either.
Dax fully believed that he loved her. Yes, Dax loved his owner, but how could he not? He had lived with her for years now, had seen her in just about every state, had learned almost everything about her. How could he not fall in love with her? And now he simply added that to the list of reasons he drank himself into oblivion. His mother's death, his impending death, his own father's drunken stupors. You'd have thought that Dax would have wanted to stay away from what happened to his father. But then again he hadn't known what he knew now. Why worry about staying sober anymore anyways? What else was there for him to do but get drunk and bring pretty girls home? Which might happen tonight as he grinned down at the woman, pulling her closer as they danced. He probably would have spent the rest of his time at Indulgence like this and then taken the pretty woman home with him if he hadn't had the oddest moment of clarity.
In which he realized he didn't want to go home with her. He wanted to go home to Elizabeth. So he backed off, went back to the bar, grabbed another drink, because he obviously wasn't drunk enough to forget his heartache over his master. He leaned easily against the bar, scanning the entire area with oddly brilliant blue eyes, intent on perhaps getting just a bit more drunk and starting his search over. Maybe a blond this time. Dark haired women always seemed to throw him off, make him pause. Mostly because if he just paused one moment, looked at them in a certain way, he'd find Elizabeth. And he didn't need that. Dammit, not tonight. Tonight he wasn't going to worry about the damn heartache. Not tonight.
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[/div][/td][/tr][tr][td] WORDS: 917| FOR:immie | LOCATION: first floor of indulgence | NOTES: really rambly xD | [/td][/tr][/table][/style] [/center] |
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Imara Sophia Deveroux
Crimson Vampire
The Psycho Princess
played by reesa [/size][/i][/center]
The Physical Embodiment of Insanity
Posts: 17
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Post by Imara Sophia Deveroux on Jan 24, 2013 20:54:46 GMT -5
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[style=text-align: center]  TASTE YOUR BEATING HEART [/style][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;] Immie was not supposed to leave the Nightmare House on her own. At all. It was at the point where if a Hunter or Tracker saw her they were supposed to just put her in the Holding Cells until Julian could come and pick her up. She had gotten quite the reputation for herself after she had managed to do something, well, two somethings really, that she wasn’t supposed to.
Immie liked to claim that she hadn’t know they were human. And her totally ditzy and mostly feral state ensured that they believed her. Immie was, after all, more than a little bit out of her mind. And she honestly hadn’t really thought they were human until she had tasted their blood. It didn’t matter to Immie what other people were as long as she got her fun of course. But it was also, of course, Julian’s grip on her and his status as a noble that kept her mostly out of trouble and kept her from being terminated by a hunter. Most vampires as insane as she was were not permitted to live as long as she had. She was lucky.
Which was fine by her, she had revenge to take care of. Not that anyone knew that. In fact, most days, not even Immie remembered that.
And then she would have a hallucination of one of her brothers, or her sister, or her parents, and then she would remember. She would remember all too well what had been taken from her and what she still had to do. But she kept that covered up. She had more pressing things to do usually that distracted her and kept her from leaving the house on her own. But Immie and Julian’s game was over—at least for now. And that left Immie feeling more than a little bit bored.
She had filled herself on the stuff that was kept bottled downstairs—and she had gagged because she absolutely couldn’t stand the bottled stuff. But Julian hadn’t given her anyone new to play with and thus, she was out of luck on the fresh blood department. She was okay, she could deal. She nodded happily and then giggled, spinning around in front of the mirror. She was bored, she was full, and she was going to go out and have her fun because, well, Julian wasn’t home to tell her that she couldn’t! Silly man. He had a stick up his ass, yes, yes he did!
But he wasn’t here to stop her now! And the oddly clothed little crimson vampire made her way out of the house. She wondered if everyone was tied up somewhere, because for once, no one actually managed to catch her. She giggled and spun as she skipped down the street. She wasn’t good at hiding her insanities, she was good at hiding her sanities. Things like her birth name, how she had come to this country—nearly being sold into a sex trade, thank you—how she had come across her sadistic tendencies—that was what happened when a serial killer found you half dead, you reminded him of his dead daughter,a nd he took you in. She was no good at hiding her insanity, no. She was damn good at hiding her sanity.
When she remembered it was there.
She sang to herself, in French as always when she wasn’t around Julian who got mad because he couldn’t understand it, and skipped down the street. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was heading. But the music called to her eventually and she headed that way. She blinked and paused when she was in front of it. SO many people. So many people. This was not good for her. She shouldn’t. But she had just fed, she was full, and thus more on the sane side of her mental state. But she shouldn’t.
Elle ne put resister
So she made her way into the club, feeling the pulsing of the music in her tiny body, the excitement, the energy. It made her grin, she breathed it in for a moment and gloried in it. Oh, she knew she had to behave. She had been warned that if she made another unsanctioned kill, she would be following the person she had killed to the pearly gates. Or, well, probably not that way but this wasn’t the time to think about the after life. She was going to behave because she still had plans.
And besides, Immie had a thing for killing innocent people, and no one here looked particularly innocent. She giggled. Oh no, no they did not and it amused her to no end.
She made her way to the bar because heading to the dance floor seemed like a bad plan for little miss Immie, she would get too caught up and do something she regretted. Not that being near alcohol when she was a notorious lightweight was much better. But it was a little bit. She tried to move that way and bumped into someone when she finally got there. She blinked. Oops. A little giggle accompanied her words as she peeked up through her thick red and black hair at the man, red eyes not as bright as they usually were because she was full. ”Excusez-moi!” |
[/b] she said, giggles as always accompanying her words, yes, yes they did! [/div][/style] tagged; dax. words; 879. notes; It'll get better I swear >< [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by dax on Jan 28, 2013 20:59:18 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center] [style=width: 420px; font-family: impact; font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #5c514c; align: center; margin-top: -10px;]Lock 'n' load and I'm ready to go! [/style] | [style=width:210px; background-color: #343235; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase;margin-left: -225px; overflow:auto; height: 450px; color: #5c514c;margin-top: 2px; ] Oh, zis was great, yes it was indeed. He'd managed to talk the pretty blonde bartender out of one of the bottles on the shelf. Of course he did say he'd pay for the entire thing, he also said that he was buddy buddy with the owner, which wasn't quite true, but you know what? He was a pretty good liar, and it helped that with a few words in french she had been completely hooked. Anyways, so now he had a full bottle of alcohol, which he was taking generous gulps of, and he was sure he'd be completely and utterly smashed by the time he finished it. Most of the people at the bar knew Dax, not pet Dax, but as a vampire who seemed to have more wealth than he knew what to do with, so he spent it all on booze.
Not that it really mattered, the wealth he had accumulated as a professional pianist would have kept him in a comfortable position, and Elizabeth had given him an allowance of sort, creating a bank account for him specifically under her name. He frowned briefly, taking a deep drink from the bottle. He was still thinking about her, he needed to stop doing that, he wasn't here to think about Elizabeth, he was here to get drunk, maybe meet a woman or two, and in all honesty spend the rest of the night rolling around in the sheets. So he was going to drink this entire bottle, he was going to find a very pretty woman to dance with, and then he was going to convince her to go home with him, because he could god dammit. The whole dying thing seemed to have boosted his sex drive, stripped him of his common sense, and gave him a sense of confidence he wouldn't have had in this new world had he not been terminally ill.
But that was a sad topic that was not allowed in his mind while he was drunk, because then he tended to get mopey, and then angry, and angry drunks were never fun to be around. So he distracted himself by scoping out the women, shamelessly mind you, winking at a few as they caught him staring at them. But really, how could he not appreciate the beauty of the women that surrounded him? He was in a good place here, with his drink in hand, women surrounding him, loud music to drown out his darker thoughts, and harsh reality cut out from the heat and high emotions that ran wild in this place. Dax really could live in this place, thrive off of the energy, the life, that ran in high demand throughout the entire building. Of course the high that this place gave him always came crashing down the next morning, causing him to retreat to his piano, recover with some soft music and maybe a healthy cup of coffee, though the scolding he always got from Elizabeth was never something that was easy on his head.
Oh well, it was a price he had to pay for the way he wanted to live. She couldn't possibly understand why he went out and got drunk all the time, why he brought home women constantly, why he would spend hours upon the piano, playing one song after another until they dipped into the darker side of music. She didn't particularly like when he ended up playing the dark pieces, ones that brought a sense of heartache because of how simply pure the music was, but sometimes he needed that. Only sometimes though. He took another long drink from the bottle, turning to reply to something the bartender had shouted at him when something smaller than him bumped into him. He blinked, glancing at the woman, who promptly gave him an 'excuse me' in french. Not a lot of people spoke french around here, and he was immediately grinning. " bien bonjour il fillette" He leaned back against the bar as he took her in. Shorter than him, then again most women were, with red and black hair, a crimson, which he wasn't concerned about considering he was drunk as a skunk.
"Qu'est-ce qu'une jolie fille comme vous fait dans un endroit comme celui-ci?" Oh, and the cheesy Dax has entered the building. Of course Dax became a bit unoriginal in his attempts to flirt when he was shit-faced, but then again, most of the time his french accent and good looks over came any lack of originality.
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[/div][/td][/tr][tr][td] WORDS: 760| FOR:immie | LOCATION: first floor of indulgence | NOTES: lol mine will get longer too. and yes, he is completely cheesy | [/td][/tr][/table][/style] [/center] |
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Imara Sophia Deveroux
Crimson Vampire
The Psycho Princess
played by reesa [/size][/i][/center]
The Physical Embodiment of Insanity
Posts: 17
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Post by Imara Sophia Deveroux on Feb 9, 2013 17:05:49 GMT -5
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[style=text-align: center] TASTE YOUR BEATING HEART [/style][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;] Immie should never have been allowed out on her own. She knew this, she was fully aware that she wasn’t allowed. However, she had decided that she didn’t care in that moment. It was a bad idea, it was such a bad idea but who was going to stop her? Julian was off doing something of his own and not paying attention to the crazy little French girl, and seeing her opening, well she had taken it without much hesitation.
At the very least she was full. She absolutely hated the bagged stuff, but she hadn’t gotten a “sanctioned” playmate in a while and she wasn’t trusted to be around pets so she had no other choice. She hated it all the same and was lucky she didn’t gag on it. As usual though, even when she was full her eyes never stopped being that deep dark red that they always were. Immie had never fully managed to regain her sanity after coming back from the dead. Sure Julian had managed to tug enough of it to the surface that she could function if she had to in society, but it had never been enough to make her eyes turn that pretty dark green she had been born with again.
Oh well.
She liked her red eyes, they matched the streaks in her hair.
So with that she had left, full which was good and she had enough sense to be that at least, and she had started to walk. No goal in mind at all but she didn’t care, she never really had a goal beyond that of her revenge and even that had taken a slight backseat while she had been busy helping Julian with his plans and his games, which she found absolutely so much fun. But it never left her, she was going to get her revenge. Just not tonight.
The music was what drew her, and she headed that way singing in French all the while. She headed in and was immediately feeling intoxicated by how many people were there. SO many people she could turn into playmates here! But she was full and she was supposed to actually be behaving so that way the hunters couldn’t stick her in the cells to wait for Julian. She was lucky that no one had done that just yet, she was fully expecting it to happen soon though, yes, yes she was. But it hadn’t happened yet! So that was all that mattered.
Feeling like being around that many people moving like that, with their hearts racing and their blood pumping would be too much for her, she headed over towards the bar. There were less people there and that would probably be much better for her. Though, being around alcohol was never good. She learned that after she had eaten the wobbly man and the alcohol in his system had gotten to her even if there hadn’t been that much. She was a lightweight and a half to be honest. She was also a very giggly drunk. Even if she was a giggly person, yes, yes she was, it was entirely nuts how much more she giggled when drunk.
She managed to actually get to the bar, which was a miracle with the people around her and how tiny the feral little child was. If she hadn’t filled herself up before going up, there was no doubt that she would have snapped and killed someone, no doubt at all. She wouldn’t have done it angrily either, she would do it laughing all the way but she would most certainly do it. She didn’t like being pushed around! Which was saying something with her tiny build but she was also a crimson. She was strong. And she knew how to fight, thank you.
She giggled at that image. How silly. People would go from dancing to running. She hoped there would be screaming. Those screams made such lovely symphonies for her. But she was behaving tonight because she was full and she didn’t feel like getting sent back home to be bored just yet. Or to the holding cells. Those were so much more boring than the Nightmare House.
She bumped into a person and, as a true testament to her being so happy to be out, she just said excuse me—in French of course. And she blinked, utterly surprised when she got an answer in French. She had been so holed up in the Nightmare House that she hadn’t heard anyone speaking French in so long. It was so amazing. Her bright red eyes went wide as she looked up at him. Well she hadn’t been expecting that! ”Bonjour” was all she replied for a moment, entirely shocked by it. But she recovered. Eventually. ”Parlez vous français?” she said after a moment.
No, it wasn’t such a wonder that someone else could speak the language but to Immie it really was. It had been so long since she had heard anyone speak the language she had been raised speaking! She had missed it so. It made her nearly want to sigh happily to hear it grace her ears. She found English to be a boring language, too harsh to her ears. She preferred the soothing sounds of the French language.
And then he called her pretty and she was blinking again. She didn’t even register that it was a slightly cheesy line, that didn’t hit her. She was just noticing that she had been called pretty. No one complimented Immie, she was always looking a tad too much like a wild thing to be complimente by anyone. She blushed a tad but it was gone quickly because Immie wasn’t the type to get so flustered, she had just gotten confused by it.
She giggled and bounced a bit. Pretty. How odd. ” Je m'ennuyais” she answered, truthfully and a tad bit shy seeming for just a moment. How did one reply to being called pretty? ” Que faites-vous ici?” she asked, figuring the right thing to do was to ask that. Usually this was why Immie didn’t talk to anyone, she did not have any sort of social skills.
[/style]tagged; dax. words; 1034 notes; Its sad how much being called pretty throws her off lol
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Post by dax on Feb 22, 2013 14:31:49 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center] [style=width: 420px; font-family: impact; font-size: 30px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -1px; color: #5c514c; align: center; margin-top: -10px;]Lock 'n' load and I'm ready to go! [/style] | [style=width:210px; background-color: #343235; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase;margin-left: -225px; overflow:auto; height: 450px; color: #5c514c;margin-top: 2px; ] He chuckled lightly as the little woman who ran into him stared, shocked by his response in the same language she had spoken to him in. He was more than drunk enough that the red eyes didn't bother him in the least, in fact he took another swig from the bottle in his hand, grinning at the small girl. "Hello" He replied in a bit of a slurred tone, though his words were still audible. He chuckled again when she asked if he spoke french and he couldn't help the grin cross his face. "Yes, do you speak french?" He was drunk enough that asking her if she spoke french, when she clearly did, was oh so funny and he couldn't help but ask. He rose an eyebrow at her, she was an excitable little thing wasn't she? Not that it mattered to him! She was pretty, she was already entertaining him, and he was drunk enough that her being crimson hardly even registered with him.
He tilted his head to the side as she mentioned being bored, he 'tsked' a couple times, like being bored was a crime she had committed. "Well you will not be bored here, I promise" Though any promises he made right now were iffy if they were to be kept, he was drunk enough that he might not even remember what the hell he'd gotten up too tonight. Which wasn't the smartest thing to do when you were trying to pretend to be a vampire. But he was trying to get Elizabeth off his mind, trying to get the fact he was dying off his mind, and for that he needed to be so drunk that he wouldn't remember anything. He was doing a damn good job of it right now as he tipped the bottle up and took another long swig. It occured to him halfway through that long drink that he was being incredibly rude, not offering her any and he grinned at that, immediately offering the bottle to the girl after finishing his drink. "Would you like some? If she didn't want any then he'd take the bottle back, taking another long swig.
He chuckled lightly at her when she asked what he was doing here. Well, what did it look like? Getting fucked up enough to forget about the girl he loves and the fact that he's dying. That's what he was doing here. But he couldn't very well tell her that now could he? Well, he could but it'd be tedious to explain and he really wasn't looking to talk about Elizabeth or his Huntingtons. In fact he didn't want to talk about any of that depressing shit, so therefore he'd take another large swig from the bottle and grin at her. "Drinking girlie, that's what I am doing here." He told her, grinning as his eyes slid past her to another woman who had just walked past, a very beautiful woman, a woman that looked like Elizabeth. He shook his head then, taking another drink. It seemed he was forming his own little drinking game. At every thought of Elizabeth he took another long drink from the bottle. Soon he'd need another one if he wasn't careful.
But he didn't need to worry about that not now, he had this pretty little thing standing in front of him, all red eyes and short and feminine. Once more he wondered if he should care that she was crimson before dismissing it. He was drunk, he was having a fantastic time, and he wasn't going to let his stupid mind ruin it. "Would you like to drink with me? We could dance too, it is always a good thing to do when you are at a club" He winked at her, teasing lightly.
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[/div][/td][/tr][tr][td] WORDS: 667| FOR:immie | LOCATION: first floor of indulgence | NOTES: For all those creepin', they is speakin' in french still, i'm just too damn lazy to write it in french (and I am sooo sorry for the shortness, he wouldn't work with me) | [/td][/tr][/table][/style] [/center] |
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Imara Sophia Deveroux
Crimson Vampire
The Psycho Princess
played by reesa [/size][/i][/center]
The Physical Embodiment of Insanity
Posts: 17
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Post by Imara Sophia Deveroux on Mar 10, 2013 22:05:26 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]
[style=text-align: center] TASTE YOUR BEATING HEART [/style][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;] Someone else spoke French! She supposed this shouldn’t be such a revelation, but to Immie it was! Ever since coming to this country, Imara Sophia had been kept in one place or another. When she had first come to this country, she had been locked in a house by a man who had taught her English and kept her because she looked like his daughter. When she had been at the Academy, no one else had spoken French. And when Julian kept her in the house because it was for the best with the way things were and he didn’t speak French at all, he spoke other silly languages she didn’t like.
So, the fact that someone else spoke French amused her to no end! She really didn’t get out much, it was safe to say that. But she was so amazed, and he didn’t just speak French but he spoke it right. Like someone who had been raised speaking it, not these silly little American children who learned it in school. This amazed her to no end, and she asked him if he spoke French even though it was a silly question, yes, yes it was, it was all she could manage to ask.
He answered yes, and then asked her it back and she giggled. Silly, silly. Of course she did! But of course he did. Oh, how silly. She grinned, widely. ”Of course I do! I was born in France. Of course, yes, yes” she replied in her native tongue, so amused to be able to speak it and be understood. She could easily speak it around Julian—and often did because it amused her to frustrate Julian—but he didn’t understand. This man did. Oh how wonderful, yes, yes it was!
She grinned, widely, excitable and nutty, that was Immie, when he said she wouldn’t be bored here. She tilted her head. ”I’m glad to hear it! I hate being bored. And being locked in the house is boring.” she spoke, tilting her head. She wanted to ask what one did for fun at a club, but she didn’t want to sound like she knew nothing. Immie knew what clubs were, of course, she had read about them in her books growing up. But she had never experienced it. She had been too young when she was sane, and too insane when she was finally old enough. In fact, it wasn’t safe for her to be here with her temper. But oh well!
She blinked when he offered her a drink. Well okay. She didn’t see why not. Though she truly shouldn’t, Immie was a notorious lightweight and had only gotten drunk once—which ahd ended up involving her and an ax—but she did anyway. She nodded and took the bottle from him, taking a drink and passing it back to him, blinking at the way it sort of burned as she drank it. So odd! She giggled again. So odd indeed.
Immie had asked him what he was doing here and his answer confused her slightly, but that was because Immie had never been a part of this world. Drinking? Why would someone go to a place just to drink? Couldn’t they do that at home? Did they not have any drinks at their own place? Or did they just like the sort of drinks that burned, alchohol she knew it was but calling it the drinks that burned amused her and she knew better than to say it out loud at least, yes, yes she did.
But she didn’t ask.
And he answered her earlier unspoken question a moment later, about what one did at a club and she was more than pleased to have it answered. Oh how fun! She didn’t even have to ask! He spoke French and he answered her questions, she was more than amused right now. It made her grin widely and bounce on her feet, happy. And distracted. Which was good with a ton of people around her, little insane sadists should not be allowed to notice those sorts of things after all. She blushed when he winked though. People didn’t do those things at her! She was too insane! How silly.
”I will drink with you, yes, yes I will”—bad decision 101—”But I do not know how to dance at a club, I confess, I don’t.” she said, with a small pout. She didn’t want ot look foolish, and she had already ruled out the dance floor as being a good idea. She had never been asked these things before though. No one wanted to hang out with her, she was the insane one. But this was amsung for her, yes, yes it was.
[/style]tagged; dax. words; 834 notes;Love him <3 and she is off her rocker lol, and talking in French
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