MusokaThis does have my interest... Would there be a quota for how many students are wealthy and how many are less so, to maintain balance? Because this does sound very promising!
Mivuli Member
STATUS: It would appear blue-haired girls are a thing. With me. It's become a recurring trend 9 yrs ago
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It would appear blue-haired girls are a thing. With me. It's become a recurring trend
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9 yrs ago
Halsey is on my mind. Nothing but Halsey. Heelp
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Living in the GMT+8 timezone, with important assessments awaiting in 2016! Forgive me if my schedule refuses to cooperate
(Have this gif as an apology ahead of time)
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@Musoka
"I don't kill those I feed from while I'm me," replied Solenne with a shudder, and as he led Mia out the cafe into the streets lit by the soft glow of street lamps, she let him take her by the hand, no less confident in him, but recognising all the same the clause he had defined himself and his actions by, absolving specifically. But Mia would not let that tarnish the moment, and the man who displayed excellent self-control. And story-telling gifts too. He spun tales that seemed to belong in the history of books and annals of time but were brought to life by the lilt of his voice. Mia exchanged her own stories, which seemed so brief and trivial compared beside Solenne's life.
They reached her apartment. "And here we are," she echoed after him, smiling gently at him. The day had been almost a dream, entirely too good to be true, and with their departure, it seemed Mia would awake abruptly from it. She felt the heat of Solenne's eyes study her carefully, and she glanced quizically up at him, wondering what on Earth he could be looking for. A hand came to cup her cheek, and instinctively she leaned into the warmth of his palm.
"...but...I need to do this or...” His voice tapered off, and with a roll of his head, the tips of fangs glinted in the moonlight. Mia froze, fear and wonderment filling her veins. Perhaps it was the dimly-lit setting, the quiet atmosphere of night and sleep, but in that moment Solenne looked predatory. “I hope you trust me…” She opened her mouth, lips parting and throat working to produce her words, but the reply was lost when she felt the pierce of his fangs in her neck and her breath was lost in a gusty exhale.
A tinge of pain. Mia's hands came up in loosely-clenched fists, resting against Solenne's chest. But they were limp and unmoving and as she felt a heady rush of blood and the pulse of her heart, the sharp sting began to fade into something more...pleasant.
And then he pulled away, with a swift lick along her throat. Cold air filled the space where he had stood, and Mia shivered. A look of surprise danced over his face, and feeling boneless Mia raised a hand to her neck, fingertips searching for pin-pricks and puncture wounds. But there were none. Swiping her fingers over the spot where Solenne had been bitten, she said, "Of course, your saliva heals too." She gave a shaky laugh, and let her hand drop back to her side, willing the less nugget of uneasiness to leave. Her own eyes flitted critically over the contours of Solenne's face. "You look better when you've fed," she said and let the corner of her lips quirk upwards. "Next time though, you should ask," she added in an almost teasing tone. Already the strength was returning to her knees. It wasn't all too different from donating blood. Except blood drives usually took more from donor veins. She raised her hand to inspect her neck once more before asking, with genuine curiosity, "How do I taste?"
I'msorryi'msorry! Real life got into the way pretty badly this week. I'm really really sorry!
@Musoka
Tension filled the stone statue in Mia's arms, and she almost regretted at once asking the question. But it was just as important as it was not to flee from truths that were unpleasant to learn. Her hands returned to her side, as Solenne slipped from his perch on the counter, rolling his head and facing her, sharp teeth suddenly lying against his lips. She listened to him explain the involvement of hypnosis - which, Mia mused distantly, seemed rather kindly - and ask in a way that was mirthless, "Still think I'm a catch?"
Mia gave an incredulous look. "Of course." Solenne was many things - musically-talented, debonair, intelligent, gentle, a vampire - but he was not the beast he mentioned, was he? They were separate entities, one wresting control from the other at inopportune moments. Now, however, was not one of them.
"All the people you feed from," she continued, because curiosity was impossible to quench when giving the first taste of water, "do they all...die?" Lore and legend would have it that two breeds of vampires existed: those whose feeding ended in sure casualties; and those who could see their victims off alive, if a little drunken in their steps.
"His sword is sworn to nothing but gold." Tayila turned suddenly at the voice, frigid as winter was rumoured to be North of the Wall, to see a woman clad in armour, with black hair. She quickly took in her attire of steel mirror. In King's Landing, if ladies did not wear dresses of finery and gold thread, they wore rags and roughspun cloths salvaged from Flea Bottom. But the Wards and their keepers seemed not to hold to such customs. Tayila imagined wearing her street-clothes in the castle, but such a vision was laughable.
"Has Lady Greyjoy passed through here?" she asked, and at once Tayila remembered that this was Asha Harlaw, whose charge was the Greyjoy ward. "Yes...milady," she said, pausing mid-sentence to contemplate the propriety of calling Asha Harlaw ser in armour. Tayila's eyes glanced over to the doors of the hall. "She left, after Lord William." She looked between Asha and Aeryn Sand, whom the former seemed to be keen not to keep in her sights, like a vile slug that had been squashed under the roll of a wagon-wheel. "Forgive a handmaid's curiosity," she said, keeping her tone polite, and unassuming lest a temper flare before she scavenged an answer, "but would chance have you both know each other?" Asha Harlaw despises the Dog of Dorne like a sister would her youngers. But without the playful affection behind her chidings.
@Musoka@Morte Angelis
As the man stood to take the microphone to sing alongside Solenne's strumming, Mia grinned, even though it faltered slightly at the slight shift in his demeanour. His movements and gestures were closer to swaggers, purposeful, perhaps even predatory, but less benign than Mia would have supposed. She shrugged it off, and slipped quickly away to the counter before returning to the table where the blonde girl sat, and sliding a plate of cheesecake onto the tabletop. "As promised, it's on the house," she said to the girl, with a grin. For a moment, she crossed her arms to stand next to the blonde, gazing thoughtfully at the front of the cafe, where their soulmates performed side-by-side.
Later, Mia had to return to work. She caught the faint thread of conversation between Delilah and Solenne, and peering over to catch Solenne's shutter-quick glance at her direction, she smiled downwards at the countertop she worked, wondering how on earth she had gotten so lucky.
And then the day drew to a close, and the sun began to set, painting strange colours and hues over the sky outside. The evening crowd coming in for a last crash of caffeine to burn the midnight oil was slowly but surely trickling out, and with them left the ticking minutes of Mia's shift. She swiftly packed the cafe up, moving with a practised smoothness that comes with having performed the routine several times before. Occasionally, her eyes would glide to Solenne, who had stayed to put the chairs away. Once again, fortune filled her heart, where there was almost certainly a place carved for him, the man who lingered hours upon the first day of their meeting. Everything was going so well, so evenly without hitch or hiccup, that Mia could not help the niggle of worry somewhere between her eyes that in the smooth run of rope, there would appear an impossible tangle or knot.
She emerged from the kitchens - having said goodbye to their chef - without her apron, with a bag slung loosely across her front, to see Solenne perched on the countertop. Quietly she crept forward, until she could slip her arms around his middle and her cheek was pressed against his back. "So you've seen me at my mundane job," she said, the smile audible in her voice. "You really didn't have to wait this long for my shift to end. It must have been deadly dull for you."
A question came to her then; one that had existed in her thoughts from morning, but hadn't quite precipitated to anything sure and solid in words until now. "Solenne," she said, voice level and conversational, "how do you feed?"
Tayila watched mute as the dining hall filled slowly with wards and then some, and then was emptied with the altercation with the Lannister child. To be true, the boy came from blood even the bastard handmaiden would not go near; what good was it to come from a name that was as bitterly hated in memory, as in life? No, Waters seemed safer than the title of those who always paid their debts.
Her dark green eyes trailed over one man clad in armour, who had introduced himself as Aeryn Sand and was making a round around the table. Aeryn Sand...a bastard of Dorne then, sworn to the services of a Tully from the riverlands? How strange to be employed from halfway across the world, for a lady's stay in the Red Keep. Tayila might not have lived in the castle for long, might be stranger to the customs and politics of the highborn who had never once soiled their feet but seemed all too comfortable ripping asunder the lives of others, but she had two ears, and she heard occasional whispers from the corners.
As Aeryn Sand passed nearby, tails of his robe fluttering subduedly behind him, Tayila stretched a hand, pale from being kept indoors for a close to a year, but several shades from the milky white of noble women's flesh. Her fingers ghosted lightly over the crook of his elbow, the chink in his lobstered armour, to graze warm skin rather than cold metal. "One hears of a Dog of Dorne, come with tongue lolling and sand-burnt paws from the land of venom and snakes." Tayila's eyes flickered momentarily to the Dornish prince, who persisted in bringing around his pet serpent, before they found Aeryn's once more, and she gave a winsome smile. "But he comes having sworn his sword to a fish instead."
Tayila laughed to make light of the jest, and she plucked up one end of her dress in a sweeping motion that was almost like a curtsy, except she did not bend. "My name is Tayila. It is my pleasure to make the acquaintance of Aeryn Sand," she said, white teeth beaming up at him. How does he like his women? she mused to herself. Innocents submissive and demure, or fiesty hellions? Tayila had not come across many Dornishmen in her term of servitude, but she had yet to meet one from the markets who did not enjoy assaulting his appetite for pig and mutton with inordinate amounts of chillies and peppers. The tastes of Sunspear were strangely spicy and flavourful.
<Snipped quote by Mivuli>
Probably Aeryn would be the least offended :P
Really? Haha, great, I'll type something up then to catch up with what Tayila's missed, and speak a bit to Aeryn!
Here too! I might post ahead of Manasa soon, but I'm not too sure who wouldn't mind Tayila striking conversation with them though.
I'm still here, just been a bit busy during the week, and waiting a while before Tayila replies to any of the things going on!
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