Orion St. James
Human
Pet ? Isadora Diardo
played by no_one [/size][/center]
Posts: 15 
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Post by Orion St. James on Feb 8, 2013 13:51:18 GMT -5
How long had he been laying here in the middle of the hall? Orion blinked his eyes trying to focus on the ceiling above him, but it wouldn’t stop spinning. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to keep his head from spinning, it was such a horrible feeling that caused his stomach to pitch and turn. Dizzy. So Dizzy. His limbs moved without his brain instructing them and he rolled from his back to his stomach. The fancy carpet of the halls felt cool under his cheek and slowly his eyes crept open. Ok now he was just a little less dizzy, he felt anchored lying flat against the floor as if at any moment he would lose his grip and fly away.
Inventory. He took a moment to take stock of his limbs. All seemed to be attached, though pain radiated through his legs and arms. Right. His clothes clung to him all sticky cold and starting to dry. It had been quite an episode. Maybe he should stand? Orion pushed up with his arms but quickly fell back down to the carpeted floor as he sucked his breath in. It hurt. A lot. His eyes dipped closed and he pushed harder, as if the pain fueled his need to get up and move. It took some effort as the pain only made his body want to give up more and more. With the effort he managed to sit up on his knees, arms dangling there at his sides and his expression was one mixed with pleasure and a look that was clear he was feeling like he was somewhere else entirely.
It had all started with him waking from a nightmare. The normal nightmare that he had almost every night seemed so very real tonight. It was followed by the phantom pains in his stomach where he had been shot so many years ago. To top it all off his chest felt so tight he couldn’t breathe; it felt as if the world were crushing him. Orion couldn’t function, he couldn’t deal…it was that over powering feeling that he couldn’t handle. He managed to scramble to the bath room; there was a straight blade for shaving hiding in one of the drawers. The contents of said draws were strewn all over the floor now. It probably looked like someone was murdered in his room right about now, but he didn’t care. No, the light headedness had followed him and he didn’t seem to care about anything at the moment.
It truly didn’t occur to him that he was ruining the beautiful carpet in the hall with is blood. Orion sat there on his knees his body swaying trying to keep him upright. Legs. If he could just get his legs to move he could get up, but they had started to go numb. A frown formed on his lips, lips that were growing just as pale as his face. He wanted to get up, to move down the hall and outside. It felt like ages since he was outside. It wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed to be outside, just that he hadn’t felt like leaving him room. How long had it been? Orion shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, but the action almost caused him to lose his balance and topple over. He caught himself with his hands and he sucked in a sharp breath. His hands had collided with the floor and hot sharp shots of pain shot up from his wrists, arms and into his shoulders. His eyes focused on the new red drops of his blood against the carpet. The material soaking it up like a sponge, the color spreading turning the delicate designs all the same shade of red.
He was lost. Orion was lost in his own little world. Pain. Drifting. All sounds seemed so far away. So distant. It all swirled around. Dizzy. It was starting to come back. He didn’t care for that much. Words: 685 Muse: Awake. Floating. Trippy. Weird. Outfit: ~*~Outfit~*~Notes: He is a little out of it today. |
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Post by Isadora Mariah Diardo on Aug 8, 2013 16:03:41 GMT -5
Sometimes she wondered about her existence. Brief moments in time in which she paused, curious to know how her conscience, her existence first came to be. Unlike every other person in the world, Isadora hadn't been born, she hadn't been a child, hadn't grown up, hadn't had a life until Izzy died and was reborn as a crimson. She was merely a collection of dark emotions that found itself alive, thinking, reacting, being. There hadn't been a learning process, no slow realization of her surroundings or what she was. She was just there and everything Izzy ever knew, everything she saw or said or thought, was Isadora's to know. How had a complete conscious, a completely different person, come to be? How had she suddenly become a person trapped in Izzy's body, what had happened in the brief space that Izzy had been dead that caused Isadora to form?
Several theories had been formed but the one Isadora wouldn't touch, and the one that was closest to the truth, was that Isadora was Izzy's safety net. Isadora was the one protecting Izzy from all the horrid, bad emotions, feelings, and events that the nature of the crimson vampires liked to induce in a person. Isadora was Izzy's shield. And Isadora hated that idea. So she didn't think about that particular possibility. Isadora believed fully that if she could, she would rid herself of Izzy, the little country bumpkin was an annoyance, someone who held her back, pushed her into a little box in the back of the sweeter woman's mind, completely unaware she was doing it. Perhaps it would have lessened Isadora's hate if Izzy was more aware of her, more aware of the dark and dangerous part of herself that was very much eager to express the crimson traits.
Usually when Isadora's mind delved into this sort of thought it meant she was bored. Which she was. Extremely bored, which didn't fare well with whomever she decided to relieve her boredom with. Currently she was making her way through the Citadel, uninvited of course, but when it came to being in places she shouldn't be, Isadora was rather good at getting there. As was usual with Isadora, her outfit was a bit more scandalous than what Izzy would ever be caught wearing. Most notably, the favored black heels that were always tucked away in the back of the closet, lest Izzy suddenly find them and feel the need to rid herself of shoes she didn't believe she ever wore. Isadora was very much a fan of heels, if you didn't find her in a pair of heels then she'd be barefoot. She detested boots, was mildly annoyed by sneakers.
And do not get her started on jeans. Never in her life would she don a pair of jeans. No matter the kind. Instead today she wore a black skirt, it fell just above her knees, wrapping firmly around her hips. She was, of course, always a fan of things that showed off her curves. Ever the more sexually active half of Isadora Diardo, she had no issue with expressing that either. Her heels, which clicked deliciously to her ears on hard surfaces, were muted as she made her way down the carpeted hallway. She was humming to herself lightly, bored as her fingers trailed along the walls edge. Her humming came to an abrupt halt as a scent wafted through her nose, her eyes flickering down another hallway as the heady scent of blood assaulted her senses. Now that was something that she hadn't expected. Her curiosity was peaked immediately and she let the scent of blood draw her in.
Her head tilted to the side as she came upon the source of the blood, a young man bleeding out on the surely expensive carpet. She didn't stop until she was right in front of the man, her weight shifting to her right foot, her hip cocking as she studied the bloody man. And the fact that her shoes now adorned a bloody undertone. She'd need a new pair. "You're bleeding all over the carpet. Pity, a waste of blood" She intoned lazily before her slender hand reached out, intent on curling into his hair, pulling his head back so she could look at him. "And how did you come to bleed all over the carpet pet?" Her head was still tilted slightly, a smirk adorning her lips, one that twisted her normally pretty features, leaving her dark. A promise of pain and deadly intentions. Words: 762 Tag: Orion Notes: Let me know if its okaaay Outfit: Here |
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