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Post by Laurel Serephine Forsyth on May 27, 2013 15:10:11 GMT -5
She'd asked to use the art room after classes, and she'd been there since a few hours before sundown. She'd been working on this particular portrait for a rather long time, more time than she'd care to admit to anyone. But when she had started it she just couldn't seem to finish it. The portrait in question was of a woman with long light brown hair framing a sharp face, strong features that held a proud, almost smug look. Laurel didn't dare give the woman a name. It was enough to recreate such a look in her eyes that had Laurel cringing on the inside. She couldn't stop though, every time she would put the pencil in her hand down she'd snatch it back up a few seconds later. She was onto color now, she felt paint would have been too elegant, this woman held no elegance. No, instead she chose colored pencil's, perhaps it made the portrait seem plain, unremarkable.
Regardless, it wasn't hard to figure out whom the woman was as the color started to seep into the picture. High, dark eyebrows hovered over brilliant blue eyes, light brown hair cascaded down slim shoulders, a slender neck held up a sharp, defined face. Laurel might have been an almost spitting image of her, had it not been for the softer look, the more rounded edges of her face, the darker and curlier hair, the less brutal and cold look in her eyes. If anything Laurel was a softer version of this woman. There wasn't a doubt about that. She had been reminded several times how she'd never measure up to her maternal parent (mostly by said maternal parent). Laurel darkened one eyebrow, trying to ignore the look she had almost perfectly replicated on the face of the haughty woman before her. Why was she drawing this? Why was she so stuck on this woman, this person who was so cruel to her?
Because it was her mother. And her mother was dead. Laurel froze at that thought, she could feel the familiar prick in her eyes, the tightening of her throat and she cleared it, setting the pencil down and moving to put the portrait away before that little prick in her eyes became tears. A passing cloud cleared the sun and broke across the portrait, causing Laurel to squint her eyes at the sudden light. Her mind easily slipped back to the days when there hadn't been a war, when her mother was still alive, when she roamed the streets of New Orlean's with the bands playing in the distance, when all she ever had to worry about was keeping herself guarded from her own mother's sharp, poisonous words. When she could laugh, and run, and dance, and eat, and not worry about anything.
There weren't wars, there weren't rumors of rebellion, there wasn't loss of loved ones, or being torn away from the only thing you knew and thrust into something else, something different, a whole new family who wasn't a family at all but more of a fucked up circus of man whores (Though she did love her daddy dearly) and aunts that were seven. When she was torn away from the only thing she knew and put in a place where she didn't even want to be in the first place. She'd rather be in New Orleans. Once she had put everything away she shrugged on the sweater she had brought with her, slinging her bag filled with her belongings over her shoulder, she wandered out of the door, down the hall. Laurel, it's about time, I've been sitting here for days!
She hardly flinched at the voice that sprang up in her head, instead she eagerly took the distraction, changing directions to head towards the east wall, where Micha had perched on a high branch, whom was moving from side to side in impatience. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away. C'mon, lets go into the city and see Willow" Years ago going into the city didn't mean visiting siblings, it meant parties. That's what she missed, she missed going to see the street bands, go dancing with Ramos, or Miguel, or Samuel, or some random person she met in the streets. A dance partner was never too hard to find when the bands struck up a tune, that was for sure. A light smile spread across her face as she shoved her hands in her pockets, after having put her hair up into a high ponytail.
Sounds like a good idea to me The bird shuffled a bit before her wings unfurled, the little body pushing off of the tree and taking to the air. Laurel headed along the wall, intent on taking her bags and putting them in her room, intent on switching them out for the old ratty book bags that contained her spray paint. Maybe she needed to get some artwork up on her grand-father's precious city to forget about the cold woman she'd just drawn in the art room. It was mostly silent, the wind blowing gently, and she was just fine with it, though she was feeling a distinct yearning for loud obnoxious music. Maybe she'd go to Indulgence tonight, maybe Tripp would be there and she could distract herself with him.
Maybe she could salvage the night from the shitty mood she was in currently. She sighed, reaching up to tug on her ponytail out of frustration, she was still so hung up on he- There's someone following you Micha's voice interrupted her thoughts and there was a slight hiccup in her steps before she continued on just the same. Thought maybe he was just going back to the dorms like you, but he's giving me a odd vibe, and he keeps staring at you. He's following you This time Laurel did stop, her gaze searching for the bird, who was actually circling high up in the sky above whomever was following her. Once she spotted the little thing her gaze dropped to who Micha thought was following her, he seemed familiar. She was sure she'd seen him somewhere.
Laurel's eyes narrowed and she started for the man, who was he to stalk her. Besides, with the fact she had eyes pretty much everywhere it was damn hard to pull that off. Micha swooped down from the sky, making a wide circle around Laurel before landing on her shoulder. She approached the man, amusement was certainly not dominant on her face. "You have about three seconds to tell me why you're following me". Three seconds, or she'd put Dad's training to use and kick the sorry guy's ass. Words: 1126 Tag: Oliver Notes: Got a lil carried away xD |
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Post by Oliver James Stryder on May 27, 2013 19:06:02 GMT -5
The crimson, his once glowing eyes dimmed to a low red, leaned casually against his usual spot in his tree, watching the students walk by with an apathetic expression plastered across his sculptured face. Crissatha was currently in some boy's room, and as much as that angered Oliver--he'd deal with the boy later--he'd left the girl to do her thing, only adding this sexual encounter as another item for him to check off when he'd kidnap her later.
He smiled, although the action lacked the compassion it usually held--although Oliver doubted he'd ever felt compassion. It was unfamiliar territory, compassion, empathy and the like. He remembered his childhood psychologist, Dr. Zentack--his nose crinkled in distaste--mentioning his love for violence, and particularly, his love for watching violence occur to others. The doctor (not that he was a real doctor, he thought) had muttered something about a disability to connect, to 'feel for others'; in other words, he'd described Oliver as a disturbed child with psychopathic tendencies
Truthfully, he didn't see anything wrong with that.
So what if he didn't give a shit about others? Surely that was better than caring--it ruined you. Take his father, for example; the man hadn't even loved his mother, and yet her death had destroyed him mentally. That was, until Oliver took care of the rest.
Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, glancing once at his watch to check the time before returning his gaze to the empty grounds below. It was class time for most at the academy (not that it affected Oliver much--Crissatha hardly went to lessons, after all), and it was safe to say it was the most boring period of the night.
He supposed he could go back to his mansion, but he had a feeling that his hired CEO of his late father's companies would be there, waiting to grab him and talk to him of Oliver's future plans--a true delight, he was sure.
He'd thought about killing the man, once or twice, but he'd calculated that it would cause him more trouble than it would get rid of. Business politics and the like were not something Oliver excelled in, and thus the only reason his CEO was still alive, was precisely because the old man seemed to have a knack for the stuff.
Resting his head against the rough skin of the bark, his thoughts, as always, flitted back to Crissatha Pandora, a slow smile beginning to settle onto his lips.
Oh, the plans he had in store for her--they were divine.
The vampire shifted in his seat, eyes closed as he imagined the screams that surely would be soon to come.
The most memorable part for Crissatha, he was sure, was the list Oliver had prepared for her--a list of names, to be precise. The names, he thought, that would most definitely cause the most pain than anything physical Oliver could ever do. He mentally counted down, starting off with the less important ones (namely the boys she'd slept with recently), before ticking off her group of friends that called themselves the brat pack, her darling cub, Marluxia--he sneered at that--and, the grande finale: Justin Flyte.
Oliver chuckled softly, the sound of cracking bones and ripping skin creating a melody of harmony in his mind--when he heard a snap and sharply opened his eyes.
Below him, just a few feet away, walked a girl--brown-haired, blue-eyed; pretty, maybe even beautiful--alone. Recognition clicked faintly, and Oliver cocked his head to the side, studying her with a calm patience that he only had for this--for hunting.
Dropping silently down onto the ground, the vampire rose, taking care to not be seen and followed her, curious to see where she was going, and waiting for the right moment to att--
His trail of thought froze when the girl stopped, before turning around and walking towards him, her eyes narrowed and serious. Oliver, used to blending into the shadows, blinked, his usual mask threatening to break as he struggled to come to terms with this--this girl that managed to outdo him.
But there was something odd--she had paused, turned and found him too quick to have done it all by herself; someone must have told her.
But who?
The girl strode up to him, and he stood where he was, eyes wider than usual, still surprised--shocked, even--that he'd been found out. A bird, which had been circling the girl swooped down and landed on her shoulder, and his eyes fractionally narrowed, finally understanding.
Ah.
"You have about three seconds to tell me why you're following me."
He felt the urge to laugh, but resisted, knowing that this wouldn't help in this scenario--he paused, waiting one, two seconds to let the information sink in, to let her sink in, and he changed his stance to one of vulnerability, eyes wide and sheepish, arms folded defensively across his chest--he even felt a faint blush spread like wildfire across his cheeks. Blinking apologetically up at her, he ducked his head, feigning embarrassment and timidity.
"Oh--oh god, this is embarrassing," he murmured, and he lifted his gaze to hers, before immediately dropping them to the floor. "I'm sorry, I just--I've seen you around campus and i couldn't help but think you were really beautifu--"
He widened his eyes further in skillfully concealed horror, and he took a small step back one hand fluttering to his lips, his teeth softly biting his bottom lip. "Oh fuck, can't believe i just said that," he muttered, before looking back up at the girl, this time with a glint in his eye and a--albeit still bashful--mischievous grin.
"Sorry, can we start again?"
Without waiting for her to answer, he extended a hand, his muscles in his upper arm flexing during the action, and he smiled genuinely at her, with nothing but warmth in his eyes. "My name's Oliver," he began, "you don't have to--and i wouldn't blame you, with how i've acted--but could you tell me yours?" He raised his voice slightly at the end, giving the impression of a boy with hope.
He offered her another grin--a grin that said, you can trust me.
It was almost ironic how false it was.
NOTES: SORRY I DIDN'T GIVE YOU MUCH TO REPLY TO BUT I'M SO EXCITED FOR THEM C:[/justify] |
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Post by Laurel Serephine Forsyth on May 27, 2013 20:34:21 GMT -5
She wasn't much in the mood for this bullshit. Honestly, who the fuck thought it was okay to follow her around, obviously someone who wasn't smart. She needed to take a breath and remember she'd made a habit of not letting anyone know her last name, that the person 'stalking' her didn't know who she was. Surely if he did then he wouldn't be stalking her right now, not with the threat of the royal family looming. Though, in all honesty Laurel didn't expect anyone but her dad to come to her rescue on that. Her grand-father certainly didn't give a shit. Sometimes she wondered if her dad did too, or if he didn't feel she was just an obligation. Her jaw clenched slightly at those thoughts. Jesus fuck did that portrait screw her up. As Micha flew down and landed on her shoulder she relaxed just a bit, the familiar weight of the falcon settling on her shoulder was enough to bring her from dark thoughts.
Her eyes narrowed as she came up the the man, demanding to know what he was doing following her around. Those two seconds it took before he responded was enough to have her bristling, but the sudden change in his demeanor surprised her. She'd expected some cocky grin, some excuse, anything but what he gave her. As he stated his reason for following her she just blinked at him, her aggression slowly draining and the tension leaving her. He was following her because he thought she was beautiful? Of all the things she'd expected, that right there was not one of them. Her eyebrow raised as he clearly noticed how awkward that sounded, then offered to start over again. She'd remained silent the entire time, studying him, her arms slowly crossing in front of her chest, Micha shuffling on her shoulder.
She refrained from grimacing as the bird's claws dug into her skin, it happened more often then she'd like, but she was relatively used to it. He offered up his name, then asked for her own and she still hadn't said anything yet. Her eyes flickered down to his extended hand, before flicking back up to him. Her lips pursed as she studied him, the falcon next to her doing the same, her sharp bird eyes trained on the man. Odd odd man. Let him down easy Lau At Micha's words, Laurel relaxed a bit more. He didn't look dangerous, though she knew very well she shouldn't judge a book by its cover. After a moment she uncrossed her arms, reaching out a hand to grip his, her grip was light, but confident, and as she took his hand she gave him a small smile. No need to be a complete bitch she supposed, it was all just a misunderstanding.
"Laurel. Next time, just talk to me, the whole stalking bullshit? A little creepy" She released his hand, reaching up to lightly stroke Micha's head, who was always wary when guys were around Laurel but had deemed the man in front of them a non threat. "I've seen you before, you go to school here?" Laurel hadn't met a lot of people on the campus, she stuck to her roommate and some of her roommates friends, but she didn't really know anyone from the school. Besides she didn't really care to know anyone either, she'd convince her dad she didn't need school and he'd let her come home. Simple as that. She shrugged the bag strap that rested on her unoccupied shoulder, careful not to disturb Micha who still sat on her shoulder. The bird was a very dear friend of hers, and while sometimes Laurel got down right pissed off at the falcon, she'd be lost without the little critter.
"Look, I'm kinda busy, why don't you walk with me and you can try starting over, no creepy stalking this time" She figured what the hell, at least she'd get some compliments out of him, and if he got creepy again she'd just tell him to fuck off. She didn't really wait for him to answer, just turned on her heal and headed back towards her dorm, Micha bouncing on her shoulder for a moment before taking to the sky. Laurel had no issue turning her back on the guy, in fact she was fairly confident that he was harmless, and she was also very much confident in her ability to protect herself. She was one of the strongest vampire's out there, stronger than crimson, and she was sure she could handle herself against anyone. Notes: Hereeee you are, silly lau, dun turn yer back on him! Words: 774 |
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Post by Oliver James Stryder on May 28, 2013 21:37:56 GMT -5
He waited, blues eyes glancing over at the girl's posture, the way she set her features, his mind deftly calculating whether she would fall for his act. The girl visible relaxed, and Oliver repressed another smirk--of course she fell for it.
They always did.
The girl uncrossed her arms and took Oliver's outstretched hand, which she shook, before offering him a small smile which he immediately responded with a grin.
"Laurel. Next time, just talk to me, the whole stalking bullshit? A little creepy," she replied before adding, "I've seen you before, you go to school here?"
He grinned once more, ducking his head sheepishly, an apologetic look settling in his features. "Again, sorry about that," he began, "I'm no good with girls--well, people in general, really." He shrugged, looking away as if shy. "I just get really nervous, and i don't think straight." Skipping over the pity me act (for some reason he figured the girl, although stupid enough to fall for his overall act, wasn't gullible enough to believe that) and nodding to her question. "Yeah, i'm in my last year. What 'bout you?" He asked, offering another kind smile, as if he was genuinely interested in whatever she had to say.
Truth was, he couldn't wait to abandon the small talk and get straight into the good part.
The part where he knocked her out and dragged her back to his place, before waiting for her to wake up, tied and helpless--glorious.
"Look, I'm kinda busy, why don't you walk with me and you can try starting over, no creepy stalking this time." With that, she turned and began to walk away (to her dorm he expected), and for a moment, he paused, weighing up his options.
The bird that was perched on her shoulder flew off, and he watched it fly with narrowed eyes, careful not to change his posture--he didn't know for sure, but he'd guessed Laurel's affinity had something to do with communicating with that bird, which made attacking her behind her back tricky. Running his tongue across the back of his teeth, he cocked his head to the side, wondering whether to make a run and hit, or continue to play along.
His eyes flickered back up to the bird, and he figured the little shit would warn the girl before he could run even two steps.
Fine, he thought, it'll have to be the longer route.
Hurrying to catch up with her, he matched her pace, his eyes crinkled in a smile, his lips tugged up into a grin and he shoved his hands in his pockets to adopt a 'nice guy' attitude.
God, he should've been born an actor.
"So," he chirped merrily, "what d'you do usually around here? I don't think i've seen you in any clubs or anything like that?" He bent his head so his gaze was on hers, but so that he could still see ahead of him through his peripheral view.
The two reached her dorm, and continuing the pretense of being a gentleman, he opened the doorway to the dorms and indicated for her to go through first, adding an amused, "ladies first," before coming in after her.
"Hold on a sec," he murmured, before heading over to the small kitchen in the corner of the common room at the bottom floor of every dorm, and he grabbed two cans of soda before walking back over to the girl, and grinned. "Lead the way," he said, keeping up the grin.
It was almost idiotic at how much the inferior smiled--playing the nice guy made Oliver feel positively sick. It was a shame he'd have to take it out on the girl--Laurel; he rolled the word around the roof of his tongue with a mental smirk--later. He followed her up the flight of stairs and leaned against the door as she found her keys and opened the door. Not hiding his smirk now, he entered in after her, and closed the door, locking it with a sharp click.
Leaning his back against the door, he cocked his head to the side, all pretenses dropped; his eyes lost the warmth, and revealed his usual harshness, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile, so different to the previous grins. "So, Laurel," he purred, his voice a mixture of dead emotion and tease, "have i mentioned how nice it is of you to invite me back to your room?"
He let go of the two cans, and folded his arms in arrogance and dominance rather than defence--the two cans, instead of dropping as gravity demanded it should, stayed hovering where he left them, his affinity at work.
"Yes--so nice."
Oliver's eyes glinted, and he watched her like a lion watching a deer. His muscles flexed, envisioning his form to be larger than it really was, and he smiled, this time regaining some of the warmth he'd had just a mere few minutes ago. "My mother always said to repay kindness when it's due," he said, his words designed to toy with her.
His smile dropped, his eyes flashed--flicking his fingers, the cans, which had been slowly twirling, froze before hurtling towards Laurel's direction.
"You're welcome."
NOTES: HAHAHAHA such a coward |
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Post by Laurel Serephine Forsyth on May 28, 2013 22:42:07 GMT -5
She shook her head, waving away his sorry, quick irritation flashing across her face. If he was just going to sit there and apologize to her he could save his breath. She didn't want to hear it, she wanted to get out of the school and away from the portrait she can still see in her minds eye. He offered that he wasn't good with people and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Her immediate reaction was 'no shit sherlock' but she was trying to not be a bitch. Instead she offered him a tight smile. "Don't worry about it. Word of advice? Stop stalking, it's creepy as fuck" She really was trying to tone down the bite in her voice, but she was a little worked up and she needed to just keep moving. He said he was a student at the school and she tried to think if she could remember him from a class or something. But she couldn't, so she simply passed it off.
"First year actually. Don't ask about it." She supplied. Laurel didn't look like she'd be in her first year, and she shouldn't be, she was over seventy and she looked like a twenty-year old. If she'd gotten her way she wouldn't have been here in the first place. Her mother hadn't seen a need to put Laurel in school when she had the chance, so why should Laurel go now? Oh yes, because her father thought it was the right thing to do and that she should go to learn and blah blah blah. Laurel told him to either follow her if he wanted to start over or get lost before she turned her back on him, Micha taking off into the sky with intentions to find a comfy spot to settle on and watch the school grounds. She glanced over at him as he asked her what she did around here, that he hadn't seen her in clubs or anything and she pondered for a moment.
"I kinda just got here actually, haven't had many chances to go exploring yet" She shrugged her shoulders, as if it wasn't a big deal but she was very much wanting to go out and explore more than she already had. She'd been to Indulgence and had put her mark on some of the buildings via spray paint, but she hadn't really been anywhere else but the school and citadel. They reached the door to the dorms and he opened it for her, causing her to raise her eyebrow in amusement and shake her head. "Thanks" She stepped through the door, pulling the bag on her shoulder more onto her shoulder before glancing back at the man behind her. Oliver, that's what he said his name was. Where the fuck had she seen him before? She wasn't quite sure it was the school. Well, whatever, she'd seen a lot of people a lot of places.
He told her to hold on a second and she pursed her lips. Seriously, she wanted to get her shit and get into the city. He went and grabbed two sodas, which she found odd but whatever. Maybe he was trying to make up for being a fucking creep earlier. Whatever. It didn't matter. She nodded her head, not giving him a smile or grin back and headed up to her dorm, sighing a bit as she headed up the stairs. It was quiet between them, which was a bit odd but she figured he was the nervous type, takes time or some shit for him to get comfortable. God, why did she have to be a good Samaritan and give him chance to prove he wasn't a creep? Should have just left his ass like Micha said. She pulled out her keys, unlocking her door and stepping in, obviously Kurai was gone if the door was locked. She stepped into the dorm, throwing her bag onto the bed on the left.
"Well, this is my dorm, fancy isn-" She'd just about grabbed the old paint covered bag filled with her spray paint cans when the lock to her door clicked. She went tense instantly, her back straightening and her shoulders squaring. She turned to face him, her eyes going cold, her face serious as her gaze flicked to the lock and then back at the man, who started speaking to her. His entire demeanor changed and Laurel adopted the same look that her father liked to display. That stony seriousness. "You're going to want to unlock that door" She told him, her voice low though there was a distinct growl to it. She had no fear of this man, even as he displayed his own power, a telekinetic obviously as the cans floated in the air as he crossed his arms. That made her wary, but she wouldn't show it. Fuck. Where the hell was Micha. She couldn't shout for her, she wasn't going to make any sudden moves, not yet at least.
She'd give Oliver a chance to change his mind and unlock the door first. "You're making a mistake Oliver" She tensed as he spoke about repaying kindness and with a flick of his fingers he shot the cans at her, she gritted her teeth, dodging out of the way of one can, though the other one caught her squarely in the cheek, causing her to cry out and stumble to the side, a hand going to clutch her cheek before a low rumbling snarl started from her chest and she turned to face him. "Big mistake dickface" She snarled out, her hand curling into a fist as she straightened up. "I'm going to give you five fucking seconds to get the fuck out of here, before I rip you apart" Her voice was low, and she stalked forward. Though it was a bit hard when things started to fly at her. She snarled out, her reflexes kicking in and she ducked out of the way of an incoming bag, then barely missed the lamp.
If she didn't get her hands on him soon, she was going to be screwed. Fuck. Words: 1043 Tag: Oliver Notes: WOOO..this is fun? |
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Post by Oliver James Stryder on May 29, 2013 0:08:52 GMT -5
Oliver had a habit of underestimating people that weren't--to put it simply--him.
His arrogance demanded that everyone else were simply lower than him, that he was far superior than anyone else; even the monarch. His affinity had fooled him into thinking of himself as royalty--not the pathetic royalty that were only such due to names and titles, but the royalty that flowed within veins. The royalty, which held the key to rule--to empower over others.
And so, he'd seen the girl, Laurel, watched as she fell (like so many others) for his lies, and he'd smiled.
He'd smiled, because he'd thought that he'd caught another one. Another inferior to toy with, then throw away once he was done.
The crimson had changed his demeanor entirely as soon as they entered her dorm, and he smiled as locked the door, cutting off her mid-sentence. He turned to face her, eyeing the bag of cans that hovered near her hand, and mentally took note of it as his gaze floated back towards hers. Her face had turned hard--much like Crissatha's did--and he almost laughed as her eyes adopted a harshness that he supposed she thought was fear inducing. "You're going to want to unlock that door," she informed him, her voice dropping a few octaves to form a low growl.
He, underestimating her as he always did, felt the edges of his lips tug up in amusement, a smirk settling on his lips as he cocked his head to the side. "Oh?" He took a step forward, his posture straight, his chest pushed upwards, demanding power and authority. He felt the room tense, and he arched a brow, defying her words. "Am i?" His tone conveyed his amusement--how little he thought of her, and her empty threats.
You mean nothing to me, he thought, and he smiled once more, the cans beside him twirling slowly, almost comically, as if mocking the moment the two were in.
"You're making a mistake Oliver," she said, and he replied with nothing but a grin.
"Hardly, my love," the cans began to twirl at a quicker pace, increasing in speed, "i never do."
He'd then hurled them towards her, watching with feigned interest as she twisted her body to escape one, but inevitably colliding cheek to metal against the second can. Her cry brought music to his ears, and his smile broadened into a grin, which further widened as the girl snarled, before spitting out the words: "Big mistake dickface."
Laurel straightened up, before adding, "I'm going to give you five fucking seconds to get the fuck out of here, before I rip you apart."
Oliver arched a brow, surprised that--despite him locking the door and indirectly assaulting her--she'd still managed to retain a scrap of politeness, offering him a second chance to, in her words, get the fuck out of here.
He'd almost laughed, at that.
To think she continued to adopt an attitude in which he supposed she thought was dominating--he reminded her of Crissatha, he realised, and that was never a good sign. For her, anyways.
"Thanks for the warning, my dear," he murmured, "but i suggest you look after yourself, first." With that, he flicked his fingers in an upward motion, and smiled as the two cans he'd previously hurled, along with the bag of cans and other various objects rose in the air--for a moment, they all paused, and all of them, the objects, the girl, Oliver, froze; as if unable to move.
But then he bent his fingers, and the objects flung themselves towards her, unrelentless, and he watched, impressed as she managed her best to duck and avoid the flying weapons. "I have to say, i'm enjoying your spirit, Laurel," he commented, almost casually, before raising the lamp once more and aiming for the head.
The plastic hit the bottom of her head with a low thud, and he smiled as the lamp and she fell to the ground--along side all the other objects, which fell with a crash onto the carpet floor. Slowly, he walked over, ignoring the groans from the girl, and he placed a foot on her back, before sharply digging into her spine, resting half his weight on her. "Good reflexes," he murmured, the amusement clear in his words. "But i'd work on your jumps."
Sighing, he flicked dust off his shirt before bending down, his foot still firmly planted on her back.
"Now, here's what's going to happen, love," he purred, "you're going to co-operate and be a dear, and if you play along, i'll return the favour and play nice--understood?" With that, he stood back up, digging his heel into her spine for good measure as a warning, before glancing out the window.
"And no calling for your little bird, either," he added, "it'd be a shame for it to die, wouldn't it?"
Not that he'd make any promises.
NOTES: ehehehe hope it's ok<3 |
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Post by Laurel Serephine Forsyth on May 29, 2013 12:53:10 GMT -5
She'd been fooled. Part of her burned with embarrassment at having believed his act. She should have gone with her first instinct, told him to get lost, and left it at that. Why couldn't she just listen to her god damn first instinct? Today was not looking like a good day. She thought, maybe, that the guy'd see reason when she didn't show any fear to him cornering her. Maybe he'd realize she wasn't an easy fight and he'd back off and leave. His easy amusement at her words of unlocking the door only stoked her anger. "I really don't have time for your bullshit" A thin wire her temper was today, which was apparently in her angered stance. She eyed the cans warily, she wasn't liking the looks of this. She was a good fighter but when her opponent was magical flying objects, well she was going to hurt in the morning she was sure.
"Well guess what darling you're making one right now" The speed at which the cans flew at her was surprising and she'd barely managed to get out of the way of one of them when the other crashed into her cheek. She cried out, the sharp pain echoing for a moment before she pressed a hand to the cheek to ease the pain, turning back to her assaulter. She gave him one more chance, one more warning, and really it was nice of her. But he just laughed. She was worried, but she wouldn't allow herself to admit that. Besides she had no time to be worried as the cans that hit her rose into the air once more, including various other things. Her eyes flickered to all the things hovering in the air around her, her body tensing. Everything froze, her eyes slide over to him, her breathe sticking in her chest before everything was moving again.
She tried, oh did she try, but with objects flying at her every which way she couldn't help the little hisses every time an object struck her. She just barely missed being smashed in the face by the bag of paint cans, managing deftly to avoid a can again but failing to miss the other one once more, getting struck in her shoulder. And it hurt. His voice startled her and she yelped as something struck her ribs, her eyes shot to him, a mistake as she missed the lamp that collected with the back of her head. She let out a cry, the force of the hit causing her vision to blur slightly and she stumbled before crashing to the ground. She groaned lightly, trying to get her head straight but another yelp left her as a hard foot was planted in her back, digging into her spine which brought another low groan as pain shot down it. He spoke and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain of his foot resting heavily on her back.
"Fuck off." She hissed out, her eyes trying to seek out something to use as a weapon, something sharp and pointy she could drive into his fucking leg. Her search was cut off as he leaned down, the weight shifting slightly on her back causing her to groan before his words rang in her ears and she gritted her teeth. She let out another cry when he dug his heel into her back, her eyes squeezing shut as she battled the pain of it. Cooperating wasn't on her mind and she glanced over, she wondered if his other foot was close enough to grab. She'd be strong enough to pull him off his feet. She just needed to get his ankle, quickly and once he was off his feet she needed, shit who was she fooling, just moving with his foot on her back was killer. Laurel didn't know if she could fight it enough to pull him off his feet
And even then she was sure the pain would only urge her to stay on the ground. He brought up Micha and she froze, she didn't need Micha to go to her, she just needed Micha to know she was in trouble. The bird would go to the one person who would tear down every single building in the entire city to find Laurel. Her father. "Micha!" She yelled out, going against what Oliver had just told her. "Micha! You have to fi-" Her yell was cut off as something heavy struck her head, her gaze flickering before going dark, having been effectively knocked out. However, her cries had been heard, and a brown blur swooped past the window, knowing exactly what she needed to do. The little brown bird just hoped Laurel'd be okay, that she'd find Angelo quickly and the man would be able to get Laurel home safe and sound. Words: 844 Tag: Oliver Notes: figured it was okay for him to knock her out? xD |
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