Post by Pandora LeAmour on Jun 23, 2009 23:14:53 GMT -5
Pandora LeAmour
Tathar Seregon
Location: Tower
Time: Four Hours After Sunset
It has been four hours since the sun sank and the Moon came out to play. Four hours since Pandora LeAmour rose from her daydeath to find the private quarters empty. And thus, four hours since she set to work. The two cots, and the many trunks that had previously occupied these quarters had been shoved into the middle of the room and Pandora, clad in a simple pair of mens trousers and blouse, had taken up the paint brushes.
With her speed, she had managed to get all the walls in her.. nay THEIR quarters painted from the shabby grey that was the natural color of the stones the walls themselves had been built of. They were now alive and had some color to them which made the entire place seem a little more alive.
Spoched from head to toe with excess paint, Pandora had then set about arranging her cot on one side of the open quarter. Luckily, the entire top floor of the Tower was open, a large circular room that one needed to pass through one section to gain access to the next. She had placed her cot in one of the smaller archway accessed locations.
The large section that wrapped around half of the top floor itself was finished completely. It now sported a nifty looking black and white floor, two overgrown chairs that would later in life become known as sofas, and a writing desk. The walls were painted an offwhite color, which seemed to match the fireplace that had always been built there.
She left the section opposite of her own for Tathar, which now held his cot, a chair and a single trunk with more... fashonable clothing, shall we say? She didn't know him well enough to take into her own hands how he would wish it to be decorated, or if he even did. The Tower wasn't an easy place for a Lycan to feel comfortable, and thus she hadn't wanted to overstep the boundaries that would make him feel even less comfortable in a place he was now calling his own.
Standing back, Pandora serveyed her handywork with satisfaction. Not bad for a undead woman. Scooping up the remainder of the paint, Pandora prepaired for her next task. There was only one other room that could probably use a little life. The Meeting Room was seen by everyone that came to the Tower. Perhaps it was time to give it a lift as well...
The scent of paint, pungeant stuff, met his nostrils as he climbed, and curiosity got the better of him. It was growing stronger as he climbed using the notches carved into the stone wall, and as he neared the library ledge it was stronger, but not enough to be the source of that odor, so he continued climbing. He knew that Pandora was planning on redecorating their quarters, as he had seen the beginnings of which the night before, but exactly how far had she gone with it? Oh, this he could not wait to see, and as he finally came to the ledge to the room and pulled himself up he was suddenly assaulted by the scent....and it was much brighter up there now compared to what it had been. Looking around for a moment before seeing her standing there, covered in spatters of paint, he could not help but laugh ever so slightly, no doubt loud enough for her to hear, and he raised a hand to cover the smile that played on his face.
Pandora turned to face Tathar as he entered the room, and gave him a frown the moment his lips twitched, knowing the laugh was coming. At his words, however, her frown turned into a scowl and she found herself gritting her teeth, muffling the hiss that escaped between them.
Her icy blue eye's glared at him, knowing full well had the situation been reversed, she'd be doing perscisely the same thing. This didn't help her however.
Her gaze softened and she turned from him, studying the newly decorated quarters. She had never really been one for flair and decorations. Actually, for the past two centuries of staying within the Tower, she never saw the need to change it. However, if Tathar would be staying there as well, and he surely would have guests, Pandora couldn't very well have them thinking she was cheap and impersonal.
Her voice hinted at the slightest trace of doubt as her eye's took on the new appearance coming from every direction.
He stifled the laugh until it was gone for the most part before entering the chambers fully, turning in a circle to look at every change she had enacted. He had not taken her for one who liked bright and cheery, but if this was what she had chosen then so be it. He had to admit, it did have a more homey appeal to it, even if it was a little bright. Was she going to be able to deal with that? Surely she would, as she had most likely thought about that well beforehand. As for guests...He was not really one to entertain them at his home. A home was personal, and sleeping quarters was doubly so....He did not feel comfortable with just anyone within them...No, a tavern was much more suited to that purpose than this room, so she was safe from that. He nodded to the fact that the workers had been unable to make their way upwards. Apparently none of them had ever used a rope and pulley system before, but that was not too uncommon these days.
Upon hearing his reply, she frowned, had she been able to wrinkle her skin, would have done so to her nose. It was different... A little TOO different...
Throwing the paint brush until it imbedded in one of those awfully looking walls, Pandora reached up and unfastened the hair she had hastly clipped up, shaking her head to allow it to fall freely to her shoulders.
Red... Good god, it was horrid. She would much rather have kept it gray, for heavens sake!
Pandora turned back around to face Tathar once more, her arms coming to rest over her shoulder. Her gaze was guilty and accusingly on him.
Alright, so he hadn't really DONE anything, exactly. But if it were not for his moving into her private quarters, she would have been perfectly content to leave it as it was. As ugly and boring as that may have been.
Initially, Tathar hadn't complained about the way the Tower looked. He didn't even hint that he would need something more... appropiate. But dammit, she was Master of the City. She deserved something beautiful too... Clearly, she wasn't about to get those results by doing the work herself.
Pandora had no quelms with actually doing work, lord knows she does enough of it on the daily bases. And she wasn't above getting her nails dirty, so to speak. But beautifing things? Clearly not her skill.
He grinned again, though this time he did not laugh. No, he knew better, and clearly she was beginning to become distressed about the predicament. The red was....alright. Simply more bright than he had expected her to use...And what was better? She was going to blame him....Correction, was blaming him from her words. What he'd done? Well, he'd come to the Tower to read a while so she could enjoy her evening off, only to find she had painted their quarters. And it was his fault. Women, especially this one, confused him to no end, and it seemed that was going to stay that way for a while.
"Something like that..."
Had she been anyone else, she probably would have stulked over to her cot and flopped down, near tears, and blurted out that she had only wanted to make thing's more comfortable for him. That she wanted him to feel at home, surrounded by the beauty that he deserved. Of course, Pandora LeAmour was not anyone else.
Instead, she simply uncrossed her arms and glanced around her once more before focusing an unseen gaze directly ahead of her. Her expression quickly relaxed and became unreadable once more.
With out even giving the quarters that were now officially a desaster another glance, Pandora crossed the room at highspeed, thanks to the ability to travel quicker with the supernatural race, and decended the drop until her feet landed on the ground floor's cold stone. Her knees bent, and the palm of her gloved hand resting flat on the ground.
Just as quickly, Pandora recovered her stance and straightened, her hands coming to lock behind her back. Glancing around Williams Room, she discovered he wasn't there, and crossed through, out the archway and down the hall towards the Holding Cells. The simple, nondecorated basic slabs of stone room that held beauty all in itself, at least to her, for it required no color, no decorative items. Nothing but stone and steel.
She found herself listening for footfalls behind her, wondering if Tathar would follow. Were she any other girl, and he any other man, he would instantly be there to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be fine. Unfortunately, the two of them were far from normal.
He mentally kicked himself....Her mannerisms...Her expressionless ways made it severely diffucult to gauge what to do and say at any given time save for those rare moments where she showed true emotion. Though, he did follow...Clearly, judging by her actions rather than expression and words, she was upset...At what he could not gather. Was it at the room? That he had not complimented it? He was a man of simple tastes...He neither wanted nor deserved niceties such as a beautified sleeping area. But the fact that she had tried, though he seriously doubted that she had done it simply just for him, made him think, and he followed right after, though he kept a normal pace about himself. If she wanted to move so quickly, he would give her a moment or two to herself while he made his way toward her, dropping down and landing with knees bent, arm extended with his fist to the floor to slow his body itself to a stop lest it continue moving toward the floor. He rose and removed his cloak, tossing it to the side where he could and would collect it later before moving on, following the trail of scent that she gave off, going through the Tower and toward the holding cells that in just a few days he would have to occupy for the full moon's call. While they were not mere mortals, and neither were to be considered normal in any sense of the word, he would indeed move to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and letting his hands come to a rest along her stomach....Though she may be undead, that was no reason to deny her such intimate moments...That is, unless she were to take them the wrong way, in which case he was much too close right now to do anything about it immediately...And truth be told, he was not entirely sure if he would be able to bring himself to do anything at all.
Oddly enough, Pandora wasn't quite herself this evening. Be it the new situation she found herself in, the fact that she'd been holed up in the Tower for too many days in a row, or merely because she hadn't had a decent feeding in quite some time was unknown. Clearly, however, she wasn't in control and she didn't like it one bit. No, not one bit at all.
To further support this new attitude, however, Pandora leaned back against Tathar's form, her own gloved hands coming to rest atop his which were locked around her stomache. Her voice was gentler then it usually was, and infact reflected moreso of the girl she was the day before she died rather then the centuries old woman whom stood before him.
Slowly, she leaned her head back, a bold move for a Vampire whom was standing so close to a Lycan, but one she made with little hesitation. Afterall, if he had not killed her yet, she doubted he'd do so right this very minute. Should, however, he do take it upon himself to use a prime opportunity, she would have rightly deserved it.
Her gloved hand patted his once, before she lowered both arms to her side. Though she could not see him, she could easily sense him with every fiber of her being. Her life may have ended all those years ago, and she may have learnt to hide her emotions, to rule as a man should, but she wasn't incapable of emotions. She simply had not survived this long living off of them.
It felt odd to have her accept his touch without some form of retribution...He had gotten quite the assault the eve he had kissed her within the walls of his shop. She had punched him, returned the kiss albeit roughly, and then punched him again, and when he had tried that very thing he was doing now she had stomped his foot and...and...hurt his pride, so to speak. It was thus far an extremely good sign that she merely moved her hands to rest atop his own, and then even leaned back against him. Oh how he enjoyed that feeling of her weight pressing against him...the feel of her head as it leaned back against his chest....He could not help but tighten his embrace ever so slightly. Not enough to be alarming, but enough to know that it had happened. The way she was speaking was almost human, but he did not voice this opinion. He had no idea how she would react to it, and he was enjoying the moment far too much to have it be ruined on part of a stupid comment he made. As she let her arms fall to her sides he released her, simply standing there, gazing at her in her entirety for a moment before averting his eyes to the cages that lined the wall.
Her lip twitched as he came to the end of his speech, and she turned to face him, forcing her hands to remain at her side for she caress his cheek once more.
Her head tilted ever so slightly, as she put to him her questions. Her fingers curled, hands locking in individual fists, to better assure she keep them exactly where they were, at her sides.
How odd, it to be. That they stand there within the very room that confines him every Moon Phase, speaking as if they truely did belong in this world. Two of the damned, carrying on as mortals do. Oh, what the NightWorld Council would think of such things.
Though she asked much of him, in turn her voice remained gentle. Nothing of the sort that a Master of the City ought to use. Even to her own ears, it was uncertain and unaccustomed.
His lips turned upwards into a light smile, almost painedly so as he moved to step around her, toward the second cage, looking within for a moment, back facing her in a manner most foolish....or trustworthy. Was he certain? Could he really be so sure that his lust was only a small part of it? Did he believe himself to be in his normal and right state of mind? Surely if he were under her enchantments he would not be able to walk away from her as he had done...to turn from her so very easily, even though doing so gnawed at his heart like a starving dog on a discarded bone...He turned back to face her once more, then, expression solemn and serious, and his tone matched perfectly as his eyes bore into her own.
For a split second, Pandora's expression became priceless. A series of emotions flooded through her. First shock, panic, terror, uncertainty, embarrassment, and then finally expressionless. The latter lasting the longest, with no signs of changing.
She then reached out and took his hand on her own, only to turn it palm outward, pressed against her very chest, above her very heart.
Even the heat of his own hand atop her shirt had that effect on her, and Pandora closed her eye's for a brief moment, relishing it. Committing it to memory. Between her slightly parted lips bid forth the quietest of a moan, a whimper really, before she cut it off by firmly pressing her lips together.
She then released his hand, and returned her own to her side, her eye's opening to look into his own.
Her expression was indeed priceless...So many emotions flooding her in a single moment...It was odd, really, to see her in such a state...And to hear her words...Oh, how his heart skipped a beat as she drew his hand to her chest, the feel of her body as well as the light flutter of her heart making him feel as if he had just been struck by lightning, his own skipping a beat or two....Her heart could beat...? He'd not thought it possible...And the way he saw things, life, or one's existence rather, was an experience...The chance to see and do many things...Right and wrong are merely introspective details under that view, and it was better to exist with no regrets. He wanted to linger his touch to her, but he thought better of it, letting his hand slip down her form as it made its way to rest at his own side, an almost remorseful look in his eyes as he looked at her...her last words reaching his ears.
She simply took a step backwards, her head jerking in a detatched shake of her head. As she watched him, she debated about how to answer the question. It wasn't really the answer she needed to think of, for she had thought of nothing else since that day in his shop. No, the answer was simple. The difficult part would be how much to tell him.
She then turned from him, studing the Holding Cells, the cells that held him every Moon Phase, him and the rest of his kind. They may all very well be NightWorld's population, but they were not the same. Putting aside the fact that he was Lycan, she Vampire. He was a simple Smithy. She was the Master of the City.
Smithy. Yes, it was better to call him Smithy or Lycan then by his first name. Even his last name gave him an identity that didn't quite do well enough to remind her exactly whom she was dealing with. No, no she had allowed this to get so complicated, whatever would her niece think of her? The Council? The other NightWorld members?
He had feared this reaction...This Conversation...And it was going more or less the way he thought it really would as opposed to the way he wanted it to. She was using his status as a simple blacksmith against him, as her words let him know....as well as her own position as Master of the City. The fact that he was a lycan and she a vampire, two entirely different races, likely factored in as well, though she did not say as much. He, for one, cared not for what others thought of him for what he felt toward her...He would stand before the Council if need be and declare it defiently to them and dare them to do something...anything...about it. And from her last words, he moved to stand at the wall opposite the cages, sagging against it and sighing. She was rejecting him...Though, he could not blame her. She had her station to think of...to maintain. Who was he to ask her to jeapoardize that? He was but a lowly blacksmith and lycan, after all.
His words stung, but she would not show it. No, it was better to simply nip it in the bud, and that's exactly what she planned to do. It wasn't her fear that he would lead her enemies to her, or even that he would break down under stress, painfully or otherwise, and tell them exactly what they wanted to know. Pandora knew he very well meant what he said.
That was not the issue. The issue, the point of it all, was that she was not as strong as he was mentally. Were someone to put him in danger because of her, she would cave into whatever demands they asked. She would gladly trade him places, and that was a dangerous thing to do. She would willingly hand over her position as Master of the City, even if that could only be traded upon her redeath, to spare him. And were they to continue down this path, her enemies would know this.
Turning once more, so that she could see him across the room, leaning against one of the cages, Pandora opened her mouth to tell him that what he wanted was exactly that. What he could not have. That she would not lower herself to be with someone so... insignificant. So below her. Why, she had planned to say whatever harsh thing she could that would save him in the end, no matter how untrue it was.
Unfortunately, the moment her eye's settled upon him, all those unjust excuses left the tip of her tongue. Her mouth opened, and nothing came out. And the more she watched him, the futher and futher these reasonable excuses got. She knew what she HAD to do, but she also knew what she wanted to do. Two completely different things.
And when she should have been looking out for his best interest, she had the upmost desire to be selfish. His status didn't matter to her. His race, his background, his availablity. None of it mattered at all. Not to the person she wanted to be, rather then the one she was.
She took a hesent step towards him, her hand slowly beginning to reach out. She wanted so badly to go to him. To embrace him. To shower him with glamour and beauty. With love. But to what avail? He had said it himself. He wanted what he cannot have. And once he got it, he would want it no more.
She paused, halting her advance on him, and dropped the Master of the City act. She simply... Was. Her gaze towards him painful, beyond that of the sun. The stake. The starvation. This was pain of the heart. And now it was clear, there was no way to avoid it. To heal from it.
Then slowly, before she caved into what she longed for most, Pandora LeAmour made for the door.
Tathar Seregon
Location: Tower
Time: Four Hours After Sunset
It has been four hours since the sun sank and the Moon came out to play. Four hours since Pandora LeAmour rose from her daydeath to find the private quarters empty. And thus, four hours since she set to work. The two cots, and the many trunks that had previously occupied these quarters had been shoved into the middle of the room and Pandora, clad in a simple pair of mens trousers and blouse, had taken up the paint brushes. With her speed, she had managed to get all the walls in her.. nay THEIR quarters painted from the shabby grey that was the natural color of the stones the walls themselves had been built of. They were now alive and had some color to them which made the entire place seem a little more alive.
Spoched from head to toe with excess paint, Pandora had then set about arranging her cot on one side of the open quarter. Luckily, the entire top floor of the Tower was open, a large circular room that one needed to pass through one section to gain access to the next. She had placed her cot in one of the smaller archway accessed locations.
The large section that wrapped around half of the top floor itself was finished completely. It now sported a nifty looking black and white floor, two overgrown chairs that would later in life become known as sofas, and a writing desk. The walls were painted an offwhite color, which seemed to match the fireplace that had always been built there.
She left the section opposite of her own for Tathar, which now held his cot, a chair and a single trunk with more... fashonable clothing, shall we say? She didn't know him well enough to take into her own hands how he would wish it to be decorated, or if he even did. The Tower wasn't an easy place for a Lycan to feel comfortable, and thus she hadn't wanted to overstep the boundaries that would make him feel even less comfortable in a place he was now calling his own.
Standing back, Pandora serveyed her handywork with satisfaction. Not bad for a undead woman. Scooping up the remainder of the paint, Pandora prepaired for her next task. There was only one other room that could probably use a little life. The Meeting Room was seen by everyone that came to the Tower. Perhaps it was time to give it a lift as well...
The scent of paint, pungeant stuff, met his nostrils as he climbed, and curiosity got the better of him. It was growing stronger as he climbed using the notches carved into the stone wall, and as he neared the library ledge it was stronger, but not enough to be the source of that odor, so he continued climbing. He knew that Pandora was planning on redecorating their quarters, as he had seen the beginnings of which the night before, but exactly how far had she gone with it? Oh, this he could not wait to see, and as he finally came to the ledge to the room and pulled himself up he was suddenly assaulted by the scent....and it was much brighter up there now compared to what it had been. Looking around for a moment before seeing her standing there, covered in spatters of paint, he could not help but laugh ever so slightly, no doubt loud enough for her to hear, and he raised a hand to cover the smile that played on his face."I believe you are not supposed to paint yourself, you know."
[/center]Pandora turned to face Tathar as he entered the room, and gave him a frown the moment his lips twitched, knowing the laugh was coming. At his words, however, her frown turned into a scowl and she found herself gritting her teeth, muffling the hiss that escaped between them. "Yes, well. None of the workers were able to get up here to do it."
Her icy blue eye's glared at him, knowing full well had the situation been reversed, she'd be doing perscisely the same thing. This didn't help her however.
"Glad that I amuse you, Seregon. Now swallow that laugh, before I make you help me."
Her gaze softened and she turned from him, studying the newly decorated quarters. She had never really been one for flair and decorations. Actually, for the past two centuries of staying within the Tower, she never saw the need to change it. However, if Tathar would be staying there as well, and he surely would have guests, Pandora couldn't very well have them thinking she was cheap and impersonal.
"Does it really look that terrible, Lycan?"
Her voice hinted at the slightest trace of doubt as her eye's took on the new appearance coming from every direction.
He stifled the laugh until it was gone for the most part before entering the chambers fully, turning in a circle to look at every change she had enacted. He had not taken her for one who liked bright and cheery, but if this was what she had chosen then so be it. He had to admit, it did have a more homey appeal to it, even if it was a little bright. Was she going to be able to deal with that? Surely she would, as she had most likely thought about that well beforehand. As for guests...He was not really one to entertain them at his home. A home was personal, and sleeping quarters was doubly so....He did not feel comfortable with just anyone within them...No, a tavern was much more suited to that purpose than this room, so she was safe from that. He nodded to the fact that the workers had been unable to make their way upwards. Apparently none of them had ever used a rope and pulley system before, but that was not too uncommon these days."I meant no joke at your expense. And it is simply different. A welcome change, if you will."
[/center]Upon hearing his reply, she frowned, had she been able to wrinkle her skin, would have done so to her nose. It was different... A little TOO different... "No, you are right. It is awful. Whatever were they thinking? Red? Really? Might as well start the feedings up here if we wanted bloodcolored walls!"
Throwing the paint brush until it imbedded in one of those awfully looking walls, Pandora reached up and unfastened the hair she had hastly clipped up, shaking her head to allow it to fall freely to her shoulders.
Red... Good god, it was horrid. She would much rather have kept it gray, for heavens sake!
Pandora turned back around to face Tathar once more, her arms coming to rest over her shoulder. Her gaze was guilty and accusingly on him.
"Look what you have done..."
Alright, so he hadn't really DONE anything, exactly. But if it were not for his moving into her private quarters, she would have been perfectly content to leave it as it was. As ugly and boring as that may have been.
Initially, Tathar hadn't complained about the way the Tower looked. He didn't even hint that he would need something more... appropiate. But dammit, she was Master of the City. She deserved something beautiful too... Clearly, she wasn't about to get those results by doing the work herself.
Pandora had no quelms with actually doing work, lord knows she does enough of it on the daily bases. And she wasn't above getting her nails dirty, so to speak. But beautifing things? Clearly not her skill.
He grinned again, though this time he did not laugh. No, he knew better, and clearly she was beginning to become distressed about the predicament. The red was....alright. Simply more bright than he had expected her to use...And what was better? She was going to blame him....Correction, was blaming him from her words. What he'd done? Well, he'd come to the Tower to read a while so she could enjoy her evening off, only to find she had painted their quarters. And it was his fault. Women, especially this one, confused him to no end, and it seemed that was going to stay that way for a while."Oh aye, I waltzed right in and forced your hand in the matter, didn't I?"
[/center]"Something like that..."Had she been anyone else, she probably would have stulked over to her cot and flopped down, near tears, and blurted out that she had only wanted to make thing's more comfortable for him. That she wanted him to feel at home, surrounded by the beauty that he deserved. Of course, Pandora LeAmour was not anyone else.
Instead, she simply uncrossed her arms and glanced around her once more before focusing an unseen gaze directly ahead of her. Her expression quickly relaxed and became unreadable once more.
"Ah well. It matters not. The paint will be stripped and back to normal and boring before the evening ends."
With out even giving the quarters that were now officially a desaster another glance, Pandora crossed the room at highspeed, thanks to the ability to travel quicker with the supernatural race, and decended the drop until her feet landed on the ground floor's cold stone. Her knees bent, and the palm of her gloved hand resting flat on the ground.
Just as quickly, Pandora recovered her stance and straightened, her hands coming to lock behind her back. Glancing around Williams Room, she discovered he wasn't there, and crossed through, out the archway and down the hall towards the Holding Cells. The simple, nondecorated basic slabs of stone room that held beauty all in itself, at least to her, for it required no color, no decorative items. Nothing but stone and steel.
She found herself listening for footfalls behind her, wondering if Tathar would follow. Were she any other girl, and he any other man, he would instantly be there to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be fine. Unfortunately, the two of them were far from normal.
He mentally kicked himself....Her mannerisms...Her expressionless ways made it severely diffucult to gauge what to do and say at any given time save for those rare moments where she showed true emotion. Though, he did follow...Clearly, judging by her actions rather than expression and words, she was upset...At what he could not gather. Was it at the room? That he had not complimented it? He was a man of simple tastes...He neither wanted nor deserved niceties such as a beautified sleeping area. But the fact that she had tried, though he seriously doubted that she had done it simply just for him, made him think, and he followed right after, though he kept a normal pace about himself. If she wanted to move so quickly, he would give her a moment or two to herself while he made his way toward her, dropping down and landing with knees bent, arm extended with his fist to the floor to slow his body itself to a stop lest it continue moving toward the floor. He rose and removed his cloak, tossing it to the side where he could and would collect it later before moving on, following the trail of scent that she gave off, going through the Tower and toward the holding cells that in just a few days he would have to occupy for the full moon's call. While they were not mere mortals, and neither were to be considered normal in any sense of the word, he would indeed move to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and letting his hands come to a rest along her stomach....Though she may be undead, that was no reason to deny her such intimate moments...That is, unless she were to take them the wrong way, in which case he was much too close right now to do anything about it immediately...And truth be told, he was not entirely sure if he would be able to bring himself to do anything at all. "Apparently I have unsettled you in some way..."
[/center]Oddly enough, Pandora wasn't quite herself this evening. Be it the new situation she found herself in, the fact that she'd been holed up in the Tower for too many days in a row, or merely because she hadn't had a decent feeding in quite some time was unknown. Clearly, however, she wasn't in control and she didn't like it one bit. No, not one bit at all. To further support this new attitude, however, Pandora leaned back against Tathar's form, her own gloved hands coming to rest atop his which were locked around her stomache. Her voice was gentler then it usually was, and infact reflected moreso of the girl she was the day before she died rather then the centuries old woman whom stood before him.
"Yes, Seregon. Yes, you have. It has been a long time since I have had someone sharing my private quarters. I have always needed to think of other's best interest, but never have I had to consider what those best interests may be."
Slowly, she leaned her head back, a bold move for a Vampire whom was standing so close to a Lycan, but one she made with little hesitation. Afterall, if he had not killed her yet, she doubted he'd do so right this very minute. Should, however, he do take it upon himself to use a prime opportunity, she would have rightly deserved it.
"I just wanted to give you a nice place to rest and reside, Seregon. Even mortal, all those centuries ago, it was customary for the woman to mind the home. I thought... Well, I figured I could... Clearly I cannot."
Her gloved hand patted his once, before she lowered both arms to her side. Though she could not see him, she could easily sense him with every fiber of her being. Her life may have ended all those years ago, and she may have learnt to hide her emotions, to rule as a man should, but she wasn't incapable of emotions. She simply had not survived this long living off of them.
"Oh, why do you make me feel as such..."
[/center]It felt odd to have her accept his touch without some form of retribution...He had gotten quite the assault the eve he had kissed her within the walls of his shop. She had punched him, returned the kiss albeit roughly, and then punched him again, and when he had tried that very thing he was doing now she had stomped his foot and...and...hurt his pride, so to speak. It was thus far an extremely good sign that she merely moved her hands to rest atop his own, and then even leaned back against him. Oh how he enjoyed that feeling of her weight pressing against him...the feel of her head as it leaned back against his chest....He could not help but tighten his embrace ever so slightly. Not enough to be alarming, but enough to know that it had happened. The way she was speaking was almost human, but he did not voice this opinion. He had no idea how she would react to it, and he was enjoying the moment far too much to have it be ruined on part of a stupid comment he made. As she let her arms fall to her sides he released her, simply standing there, gazing at her in her entirety for a moment before averting his eyes to the cages that lined the wall."My interests remain the same as what I told you about the house you alotted me. I am simple. I require no more than the necessities. However, I will be more than satisfied with whatever you decide to do. As for the way you feel, I suppose you still have a little thing known as emotion...And I would hope that you share the very same one that I do....And no, I can assure you that lust is but a minimal part of that."
[/center]Her lip twitched as he came to the end of his speech, and she turned to face him, forcing her hands to remain at her side for she caress his cheek once more. "And what makes you so certain, Seregon, that it is not lust that holds you to me? It is not charm or a taste of the forbidden?"
Her head tilted ever so slightly, as she put to him her questions. Her fingers curled, hands locking in individual fists, to better assure she keep them exactly where they were, at her sides.
How odd, it to be. That they stand there within the very room that confines him every Moon Phase, speaking as if they truely did belong in this world. Two of the damned, carrying on as mortals do. Oh, what the NightWorld Council would think of such things.
"How can you stand here before me, not only very much alive, but very much forbidden, and speak to me as if I am one of your kind? Are you not worried I have enchanted you? Marked you? Tricked you into thinking that this lust is anything but?"
Though she asked much of him, in turn her voice remained gentle. Nothing of the sort that a Master of the City ought to use. Even to her own ears, it was uncertain and unaccustomed.
His lips turned upwards into a light smile, almost painedly so as he moved to step around her, toward the second cage, looking within for a moment, back facing her in a manner most foolish....or trustworthy. Was he certain? Could he really be so sure that his lust was only a small part of it? Did he believe himself to be in his normal and right state of mind? Surely if he were under her enchantments he would not be able to walk away from her as he had done...to turn from her so very easily, even though doing so gnawed at his heart like a starving dog on a discarded bone...He turned back to face her once more, then, expression solemn and serious, and his tone matched perfectly as his eyes bore into her own."Pandora....I am certain of it. Every fiber of myself is telling me so. Therefore, I can speak with utmost sincerity when I say that what I feel is far more than mere lust....or excitement...or even enchantments can be. Now I ask the very same of you...What do you feel...? What is that unbeating heart in your breast telling you?"
[/center]For a split second, Pandora's expression became priceless. A series of emotions flooded through her. First shock, panic, terror, uncertainty, embarrassment, and then finally expressionless. The latter lasting the longest, with no signs of changing. "Oh, but can you not hear it, Seregeon?"
She then reached out and took his hand on her own, only to turn it palm outward, pressed against her very chest, above her very heart.
"It beats, though it has no necessity to do so. It quickens, it jumps, it races. With every touch, it lives."
Even the heat of his own hand atop her shirt had that effect on her, and Pandora closed her eye's for a brief moment, relishing it. Committing it to memory. Between her slightly parted lips bid forth the quietest of a moan, a whimper really, before she cut it off by firmly pressing her lips together.
"You are certain, and yet even I find I question myself. Did my allowing you to taste, to suck, to draw from me. Did it not break the Mark? Does a Lycan's ability factor in? Have I done something, in time, I shall learn to regret?"
She then released his hand, and returned her own to her side, her eye's opening to look into his own.
"Or one in which you will. I am, afterall, Master of the City. I cannot be both Pandora LeAmour, and Master. I cannot afford it. For either of our sakes."
[/center]Her expression was indeed priceless...So many emotions flooding her in a single moment...It was odd, really, to see her in such a state...And to hear her words...Oh, how his heart skipped a beat as she drew his hand to her chest, the feel of her body as well as the light flutter of her heart making him feel as if he had just been struck by lightning, his own skipping a beat or two....Her heart could beat...? He'd not thought it possible...And the way he saw things, life, or one's existence rather, was an experience...The chance to see and do many things...Right and wrong are merely introspective details under that view, and it was better to exist with no regrets. He wanted to linger his touch to her, but he thought better of it, letting his hand slip down her form as it made its way to rest at his own side, an almost remorseful look in his eyes as he looked at her...her last words reaching his ears."That is a bit of a difficulty, isn't it? Is there no solution to be had?"
[/center]She simply took a step backwards, her head jerking in a detatched shake of her head. As she watched him, she debated about how to answer the question. It wasn't really the answer she needed to think of, for she had thought of nothing else since that day in his shop. No, the answer was simple. The difficult part would be how much to tell him. "There is not, Seregon. A Master of the City, no matter who or where they are, cannot afford the luxary of emotions. They are too often turned against them. We cannot, I cannot afford to give my enemies something for leverage."
She then turned from him, studing the Holding Cells, the cells that held him every Moon Phase, him and the rest of his kind. They may all very well be NightWorld's population, but they were not the same. Putting aside the fact that he was Lycan, she Vampire. He was a simple Smithy. She was the Master of the City.
"Do promise me something, Smithy."
Smithy. Yes, it was better to call him Smithy or Lycan then by his first name. Even his last name gave him an identity that didn't quite do well enough to remind her exactly whom she was dealing with. No, no she had allowed this to get so complicated, whatever would her niece think of her? The Council? The other NightWorld members?
"I fear you read too much into me, Smithy. You seek for something that I cannot give you. I do not know how to love, and I do not do emotions. I enjoy your company.... In a sort of playfully intimate encounter. I cannot give you anything more then what you have. What is it you want?"
[/center]He had feared this reaction...This Conversation...And it was going more or less the way he thought it really would as opposed to the way he wanted it to. She was using his status as a simple blacksmith against him, as her words let him know....as well as her own position as Master of the City. The fact that he was a lycan and she a vampire, two entirely different races, likely factored in as well, though she did not say as much. He, for one, cared not for what others thought of him for what he felt toward her...He would stand before the Council if need be and declare it defiently to them and dare them to do something...anything...about it. And from her last words, he moved to stand at the wall opposite the cages, sagging against it and sighing. She was rejecting him...Though, he could not blame her. She had her station to think of...to maintain. Who was he to ask her to jeapoardize that? He was but a lowly blacksmith and lycan, after all."Should your enemies ever take me, know that I will die before being used against you. And I seek....companionship...The likes of which no human can offer. I want what I cannot, and should not, have."
[/center]His words stung, but she would not show it. No, it was better to simply nip it in the bud, and that's exactly what she planned to do. It wasn't her fear that he would lead her enemies to her, or even that he would break down under stress, painfully or otherwise, and tell them exactly what they wanted to know. Pandora knew he very well meant what he said. That was not the issue. The issue, the point of it all, was that she was not as strong as he was mentally. Were someone to put him in danger because of her, she would cave into whatever demands they asked. She would gladly trade him places, and that was a dangerous thing to do. She would willingly hand over her position as Master of the City, even if that could only be traded upon her redeath, to spare him. And were they to continue down this path, her enemies would know this.
Turning once more, so that she could see him across the room, leaning against one of the cages, Pandora opened her mouth to tell him that what he wanted was exactly that. What he could not have. That she would not lower herself to be with someone so... insignificant. So below her. Why, she had planned to say whatever harsh thing she could that would save him in the end, no matter how untrue it was.
Unfortunately, the moment her eye's settled upon him, all those unjust excuses left the tip of her tongue. Her mouth opened, and nothing came out. And the more she watched him, the futher and futher these reasonable excuses got. She knew what she HAD to do, but she also knew what she wanted to do. Two completely different things.
And when she should have been looking out for his best interest, she had the upmost desire to be selfish. His status didn't matter to her. His race, his background, his availablity. None of it mattered at all. Not to the person she wanted to be, rather then the one she was.
"Tathar... Look at me. Look at what I am. What I must be. I am not a suitable companion, mîn fea wulf. I shall remain cold when you need someone to warm you. I shall remain hard and stiff, when you wish to sink into a soft embrace. I shall remain stern and detatched, when you but long for a deep conversation. I shall always want to mark you, to feed from you, when you but want a sexual evening. This is who I am, m'darling. Given time, you will resent me for it. You will resort back to the ways of your brothers. Your family. In time, I will hurt you. I cannot wait for that time, m'love. It would be a cage that you are locked in for all of eternity."
She took a hesent step towards him, her hand slowly beginning to reach out. She wanted so badly to go to him. To embrace him. To shower him with glamour and beauty. With love. But to what avail? He had said it himself. He wanted what he cannot have. And once he got it, he would want it no more.
She paused, halting her advance on him, and dropped the Master of the City act. She simply... Was. Her gaze towards him painful, beyond that of the sun. The stake. The starvation. This was pain of the heart. And now it was clear, there was no way to avoid it. To heal from it.
Then slowly, before she caved into what she longed for most, Pandora LeAmour made for the door.
