Topic: A Sigh in the Night

Thalas

Date: 2009-04-26 10:21 EST
What he did at night in the library wasn't clear. Oh the dusty dusty bodies of books were put into their organization, but his interest lingered in a particular area of the library. The long, high aisles echoed steps and little sounds that encouraged the imagination for something else.

He'd grown restless.

Normally there was a dark humor to him. Dry, sometimes not even registered since it was delivered so straight faced. No, lately he didn't do much to interact with others. Saga was an encouragement, but when he ventured alone he found his skin crawled with an irritation at having company. What was it? Was he not suppose to be a sociable creature by nature? For the sake of survival?

Lately, he had moments where he didn't care if he was hungry or uncomfortable. He was fine collecting dust and the stillness of it all did not disturb him. He was fingering through the books.

That's how he was that night. Standing upright, his serious still face at a loss for life as his eyes moved along the pages.

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-04-26 11:37 EST
She watched from her perch on one of the library shelves, one leg tucked beneath her form and the other dangling in silent pendulum swing.

Tick tock, tick tock. The silent sway of bare foot as alabaster allure in the dim light ever kept in the Library.

Some moments she worried about him, worried over him. Such never was an emotion to be revealed in oil slick eyes. Those strange colors of sapphire and amethyst were sedate. Lushly languid.

For him he saw too much in her. Saw past the vision of dark glass like two way mirrors that reflected back the image of the one looking within but never revealing her. Thalas however... had shattered those mirrors a long time ago. No matter the mask, no matter the facades worn. He knew her completely.

Acrobatic and nimble she landed beside him. Silet review of that which he searched through so earnestly.

"You ever contemplate the notion that perhaps the answers rested within your own spirit?"

A lean taken beside him, those eyes hematite glass as she quirked a brow at him. It masked the worry that lingered and remained.

Thalas

Date: 2009-04-28 16:19 EST
Some people had a gift for it. That is, reading through the eyes. With so many years came the sharp perception and now, now its revelations were lost even onto him. The concept of "bad" and "good" became lost to him. Instead, the balance was weighed by "selfish" and "selfless," but that, too, was just a guise. What had boiled beneath it all and still given meaning was that there were two genres of behavior. One that encouraged the survival of the community (the good), and the one that encouraged the survival of the self (bad). Oh, and what defined the evil was easy to see because it defined the selfish, self-preservers. Wasn't that was a demon was? What, ultimately, was the root of the problem with vampires?

When did the air grow stagnant?

He shut the book when he saw her, leg swing, body drop nearby him. When she asked him to look within he smiled. It wasn't a smile. It was like some expression that said "there you are." He slid the book back into the shelf and turned on her, shoulders squared off, one elbow resting above her head against the bookshelf frame. His height, imposed on her. Expense, intense, that metal taste of blood somehow always lingering around him when she was close.

"What do you think my spirit would say?"

Would it say that so many years and years of information, experience, quilted together into an ugly, untrustworthy mesh?

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-04-29 06:21 EST
There was no alter of expression, no change to indifference that marked the sharp angles and contours of her face. He was close, so dangerously close.

It was something of a dance between them. Elegant and precise down to the very detail. Dangerous as brushing a silver blade against flesh but not cutting skin like butter. This was the intrigue and promise that rested between the pair. A new collection added to the library, Seirian's 'gift' to Saga was Thalas... though the Seer was far more in tune with the factors of distraction.

Thalas was quite a distraction, brooding creature as he was there was a sensation like molten velvet and dark heat whenever she was in proximity to him.

Not just metallic promise of blood, not just the sweet tease of sin and desire on her tongue. Layers upon layers of need and self satisfaction covered and coveted that core of a solitaire emotion not confessed. Unspoken.

Body pressed into book shelves, restless arch of back as oil slick depths locked on him, head tilted up at the impose of his towering height over her.

Dark need and a restless urge like an itch that needed scratching. Something so open and raw about those black eyes. A predator's hunger.. but who was the predator and who the prey in this bond?

Fingers enraptured in silver curled into his shirt drawing him in to close the distance of subtle lines of body to meld. Snow and soot fell to the side exposing the swan smooth perfection of neck, throat...a quicken of pulse, the lovely lines and accuarate design that led to shoulder and sharp blade of clavicle.

"What would you soul tell you, Stormy? But to cease this foolish self induced torture and denial. To take what is needed to survive."

Answers ever offered. When jars were open and spilled out sins and destruction, torture and grief all for a young girl's unbridled curiousity... what was left to remain... was hope.

Hope was what she offered him then... that perhaps air didn't need to be so stagnant if he stopped denying self preservation. Sinners and Saints they all were...

Thalas

Date: 2009-04-29 12:20 EST
His breath came down on her neck like a cold silk handkerchief, but it didn't stay there. One hand on a book just beside her head, the fingertips curled so that they surpassed the spin, touching the pages just after the corner. Pulled the book out from the shelf a little, leaned his weight into her, then withdrew.

It was as though she had demanded that he do it. Or perhaps he needed her to tell him no because its what made the situation feel more natural.

"Torture is a magnificent way to get to know yourself."

Was it all about the tantric now? Oh, a simple direct path was one he'd always known. He needed the winding roads. He needed to reconcil that what he saw was no hallucination from a mind that held more experience than it was meant to. Fingertips grazed the side of her face and then he took several steps away from her, "You should think about what it's like to read the same book over and over and what you would do to make it new."

The only answer he could think... was not to read it anymore. To burn it. To pick up a new book but they were all in languages he could not indulge in. He needed a pen to scrawl them up with. He picked a new txt from the shelf, opened and began skimming the words.

"What would you do, then, Saga?"

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-05-01 06:31 EST


Sweet torture that proximity, that breath like ice across flesh. The press of skin. Never had he been so daring.

Those dark eyes watched, moved over his features as contemplative as she was prone to be at times.

She demanded nothing, she asked for nothing. Her thoughts spindled and pooled energy, the sinking awareness that maybe this had been the plan of her 'Mistress' all along. To push Thalas to the edge until he couldn't stand it anymore and killed the Seer. Would a collector do that to it's prized collection?

Seirian was insane enough that Saga believed it was possible.

A subtle shake of head to dismiss that unsettled feeling, that stirring of cold and warmth that blanketed her soul like the ember and ice sheen of otherworldly energy.

"Torture? I never found it an adequate bed mate. It is more of the bed mate of our Mistress of Twilight and Sin."

She hadn't moved and yet a wisp of snow and soot shivered and shuddered down the sharp curving cut of jaw. A kiss of bone fetish and silver trinket as her gaze was drawn to him again.

What plagued him so now?

"I do not need to read the same book again when I am forced to write others day in and day out. Guided and directed to watch the things that have passed, things that are to be and will be."

One that was chosen, fashioned to be an alteration for society. She was one that already had changed so much. Oil slick eyes flicked to the band of iron that ensnared her arm.

Saga had watched angels tortured and tormented, watched witches burn, sacrifices and massacres. All for them to turn around and tell her that it was all her doing. All because of her. Sigh exhaled.

"I tire of this game."

She shoved away from the book shelf, paradox as ever. Hands as cold as his breath claimed the sides of his face as lips sealed to his. Lingered till warm heat spilled into that shared kiss. Breaking away finally with a whisper that would scrawl like scripture and ancient lore. Fragile and Sacred.

"And yet I stay. I have my reasons, Thalas. We all do."

Thalas

Date: 2009-05-04 14:41 EST
It was when she kissed him that his mind tumble, tripped over so many memories but came to one abrupt decision. His lips were not as cold as his hands, but cool and smooth like oil against her. There was an undeniable sexuality, the sort that permeated the air always with him. He could have ripped down books and lit them and still, there would be something arousing to the way the match struck, lit, and initiated the chaos. The same when he lips met his and the invited her because they were designed to induce her further, closer, into a sense that there was a great passionate award for her there if only she would pursue it.

Vice hands on her shoulders, pulling her back from him and leveling the terrible storm of his eyes upon her, "I want to be made to forget everything. If the world could be new again... yes, that is my desire."

The way he said it, his desire, clearly indicated that the only person who mattered to him then was the other that would fulfill it. That he fully intended on banishing the memories which made him who he was.

"There is too much," his hands loosened, trailed down the sides of her arms, "it is true. Ignorance is bliss... and I will seek it. With or without you."

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-05-05 06:29 EST
That dark promise was a black smoldering flame that lingered within her, pooling and burning. Oil and Fire they had a nature to ignite did they not?

Lost and reeling. Heady with that self imposed intoxication. Amethyst and Sapphire shattered oil slick depths as lightning and matches sparking flame within those dark pools. Clarity without visions.

His words stung for a moment, a realization an understanding.

"We cannot change our past. If there was an answer to take it all away and make it new I would give it to you... but I... am a selfish beast. Erase the memories and you would erase me."

Then it might have been what he wanted. A sigh as her gaze tore from those stormy depths. The Library was part of her. Her collection. Her life. Her stories but the Library had become a prison. Seirian the ward... and now placing another prisoner with her. Thalas could bring death as much as bliss to the witch.

A cruel, self destructive smile twisted her lips. Lacking mirth. Fingers smoothed up his chest, curled there as she looked to him.

"I had that ability to change things. I brought on madness. I wrote out pain. Foolish, curious creature I was... and now my name... my true name... is laced with evil intentions. I cannot have that happen again."

A murmur, an ancient weary way of spirit. Like the Killer, Saga was prone to follow the Storm to hell and back and wherever that dark path twisted.

"Bliss it would be if I could find ignorance with you."

The oil dark of eyes was not so spreading then, not so claiming. Eyes that had seen so many secrets, so much pain and torture, madness and passion, desire and hatred, lust and love were her own then.

Restless with it... but she couldn't help but wonder...if the world was erased and reforged, would it all change for her too? Would all that she had been punished for finally fall away. Would she be free again and life... not this prison.

A close of eyes, so cold within that dark flame seemed to flicker and then was snuffed out all save for those fingers of fire that licked along her flesh where his touch had trailed.

"We will find a way."

Thalas

Date: 2009-05-13 19:44 EST
Saga was wanting to put salve on a wound that had been festering too long. And though her words made beauitful sutures, the infection was still ongoing. No, she'd not brought him relief. She had tasted a moment of his unrest and it was a bitter thing.

"I don't care." The statement alone made no sense but then he betrayed where it had come from, "I don't care if I erase almost all of what I know and, in the end, result in the same person with the same demeanor. It could be that the acquisition of certain knowledge tainted my love for this world. If that is the case, I should forget it. If, however, my disposition has occured only because it is the natural path for my persona, then I see nothing wrong with continually wiping the slate clean. It seems that is the proper course."

It amused him some that she looked so hurt at the idea he would forget her. Was she, really? They were no starcrossed lovers but a vein tangle that seemed to keep the bloodflow headed in the right direction. Eyebrows arched up, "Do you think you won't wrap yourself with another, shortly after? Or see to it that I know you again, afterwards? My request is simple."

He moved around her, behind her. His arms wrapped and teeth, lips at her ear, "You know the excitement a woman has the first time she lays with a man? You know how it deminished when it is the same man, year after year. That what was once an explosion becomes a predictable hiccup. So that woman drifts from the bed of her lover for a new bed, a new explosion, chasing the illusion that the new man will stay different, stay exciting. When the truth is he won't, he can't. He can only create the illusion with neglience, by engaging with her so very little that she is baited into their next meeting and is unable to feel it become mundane."

Lips guide along her throat, "and I have been here, so... so many times. At virgin throats, the loving, the unloving. The willing, the fighters. I have seen hundreds, and the multiple experiences makes any reaction..." he pulled away and sighed, "too readily... too already known."

From behind her his hands lifted up, combing through her hair in a way that was intimate, but also like some pure form of affection, "I wish to be like a child and think childish things. I wish to be excited again. I wish for it not to feel routine. I must remove the years that make me this drool adult."

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-05-14 06:31 EST


"If you wish to erase everything to have a clean slate over and over again then you already have your wish. You act like an infant with a tantrum after their toys have bored them. We suffer, we adjust. This is Life...and Aging."

Lips briefly twitched with the notion of age. Saga herself had lost track of time. His words of her lovers brought a cruel edge to her lips.

"That is something that you have yet to understand, my Storm. I do not replace my lovers. One might come and go and another take their place... but the new does not replace the old. Many, near all of them are meaningless... an object to give a night of pleasure. To feel again, to feel alive and not an endless void."

Her eyes had traveled and trained on a dark row of the shelves.

"Only you and the Killer remain constants, have been repeats. Lingering threads that keep me sane."

The notion of sanity what a pleasant theory that was. Amusement shivered colors in those dark dangerous depths as they went panther slick. Prowling beasts.

"We must suffer. That is our sentence. I should know better then any that erasing the slate and rewriting the story brings no satisfaction on relief. The only thing I find that satiates me now is the constant. The familiar."

Restlessness was something she had become a slave to in those dark hours. His mood was ever a taint on her spirit. This wasn't the first time he had asked, wished, requested, and sometimes demanded to have the slate wiped clean.

She knew well enough... it would change nothing. Nothing would make him happy.

Cold. That chill that emnated from her was such a fierce cold it was near a burn. Achingly aware of lips,teeth at ear. That haunted whisper. The intimate move of hands through hair brought the low sound from her captured between a sigh of pleasure and a growl.

Her laughter then was low, intimate and seductive. Sinful that amusement.

She turned to him then,twisted in his arms. Lips sealed his. Claimed and captured. A step back, breaking the kiss. Those eyes were drowning pools once more... dark fathoms without an end.

"Forget."

A whisper. She did wipe the slate clean for him. But only a portion. This whole conversation. Cut,snipped, and severed from his memory. Providing a moments bliss. Surely she could fill his mind with nightmares and false illusions but when it came down to it... she was a selfish beast.

The games they played were not safe, or ever meant for children and their childish whims...

Thalas

Date: 2009-05-14 13:10 EST
There was only so much he could control. That is, he could be made to forget if that was what he requested, and allowed. He could also be denied the fully desired affect by her-- which was the thing she was doing now. There was a slight face change, a momentary confusion when lips parted and he oriented himself once again. It seemed he should have been more startled, more angry or confused but there was none of that.

His age came also with a strange sense of time. It was easy for him to accept time lapses since their were skips in memory and it all had become so very relative to him. The change, then, created only the moment of uncertainty was he regained himself.

"Come, let's go out."

It was, like that, that she had stalled the inevitable. One day the conversation would unveil his inner frustration with himself, with being alive, and he would ask that so much more of him be removed than what she was willing to do. Perhaps, one day he would ask someone who wasn't her to do it, and perhaps they actually would.

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-05-16 11:30 EST
It was surprising that he wanted to go out. That was something unlike him, and she almost wondered if she had taken too much from him. A Seer that erased the past. There was a twinge of melancholy and uncertainty in her actions.

Fingers claimed his throat, curled there as her lips sealed and lingered on his own. Apologies and Questions unspoken save for the communication of a kiss.

A parting. Could she give up with being selfish? Could she erase his mind completely and give him what he wanted. After being a Tabula Rasa... would he loathe her and change his mind of what he wanted. So often when you granted a wish it seemed like those that had their wishes made did not like the results.

She pushed away from the shelves, a whisper of material and wild fabric of dark and light in paradox caress of black and white. Wild dress, like a shadow haze and a ghost offering.

"Where did you wish to go, Stormy?"

It was his hour, his day, his evening. His time. For now.

Thalas

Date: 2009-05-23 01:58 EST
"Everywhere." Was his response. A lively response.

Oh if melancholy was the mildew that poisoned the beauty of his repose, it was erased with the bleach of her charm. White, spanning forever, over his mind, over what all those little revelations would be and stilll, still, there was the promise that it would not be forever more. That what she had done was only the band aid over an upcoming wart that meant to infect and spread as much as ever was likely.

How was it that marble could be so handsome? Carved in such a brutal but beautiful way to where it wasn't certain that life was real or just a fiction underneath perfect white flesh. Was he less real than her, existing in death and life simultaneously between those worlds where she would grant her wish and where she would not.

Once upon a time, going out was a great passion of his. Something which itched beneath the skin and caused him to rise against the tide of the mundane. Greys a STORM, and angry storm at what had become predictable. It was time to twist, to wonder at torture once again. How much had she undone? Was he playing mind games, or was this search for the edge of the bookmark on purpose? Whatever the background, the lively attitude of his eyes was unlike how it had been in ages. He wanted to shred someone within his hands and love it, intensely, and uninterrupted.

Saga de Deso

Date: 2009-05-23 10:33 EST
Lively moods awakened those dark shadows of her spirit and spread through her soul as lightning. He would never be sunlight or holy light for her but the lightning of that storm oh she would thrive in it.

It had been so long since he had looked like that, those moments she found him truly beautiful. Breathtaking to behold. Memories of so long ago when they both had lived and thrived without the complications of collecting Fae or the threshold of life and death. How strange that once they both had been so mundane. If they had stayed as such would things have been different between them?

Grin lashed a brutal razorblade along her lips, sharp and cruel. Cutting without remorse but ever genuine. A spin of a circle in the aisle before she was turning, body molding to his in the nature of a dance.

Renegades and Outcasts they were. Rebels and Heathens. A dance sinful before edged into sultry and finally to beautiful court dance.

Lips touched to his own, brief and lovely before she was grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the library. A violence blossomed deadly nightshade hues in oil slick eyes, she ignored once more that savage burn beneath the cuff at her wrist. Times would change...