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His Name is Esclave. That is the only name he knows. He was captured as a newborn by those who hunt his kind, taken from his home in Russia and brought to France, where he served as the family's private slave. They never called him anything but "slave" so it became his name. He never talks of how he was treated, avoid the subject with a shake of his head and a small, melancholic smile. He is Kind Loyal Forever 19 (turned vampire in 1255) A Gentleman A servant Submissive A creature who lives for the comfort of others Melancholic Shy And a bloodthirsty monster He eventually escaped the family simply by outliving them and ran to the most peaceful place he could find, beckoned there by a mysterious, white idol bathed in gentle light... It is now nearly 760 years since he was captured and still he remains gentle and powerless... Unless the blood moon rises... |
The Gentle Death He is a vampire. An unusually calm and gentle one, but a vampire none the less. He avoids sunlight that burns his skin and he feeds off of the blood of the living. But he never likes to do so. He will actively try to prevent feeding and will stay away from other living beings when the hunger overwhelms him... For fear HE might come out... His years of repression and slavery has shattered his psyche. He is a kind and gentle creature, but the other "he" is not. Inside of him resides the monster from the fairy tales, the bloodthirsty beast that hunts relentlessly, drains its victims of blood and spreads its curse like a disease. Whatever you do, do not call this beast a slave... |
A smile instantly spread
"Hello!..." He said eagerly, picking up the pace a little on his way towards her.
"You, uh... seem alone?..." He tried hesitantly, not being sure what to say in this situation or explain that he was desperate for company... He couldn't be too forward, that would be impolite and probably scare her away. But he couldn't be too convoluted either, then he'd seem like he had something to hide or an alternate motive...
It was all so confusing...
She shrugged "I guess I
"As do you though"she said noticing that he was alone she crossed her legs and leaned back on the bench getting comfortable.
Something about him intrigued her.and it was not often that ,that would happen
((fffffffff I totally missed
my brain is dead when it comes to introsit fits :'D))Night was a rare treat for the deer here, if only because the Gods had decided to ration it as a means of asserting their own power. That was alright though, let them run their little kingdom. Bartleby didn't mind, not now at least. If anything, he was grateful for the change of time, because with it came a warm front. It wouldn't last long, no doubt, so it was probably best to take careful advantage of it while he could.
A scrawny buck lay wedged between two headstones in the Ruins, his presence only betrayed by the gentle illumination of the candles upon his small antlers. That was alright though; he wasn't hiding to begin with. He was small, his pelt a light dusted shade, neither a complete grey nor white. It was a lovely coat, completely unblemished save for a light, raw scar that extended down the right side of his neck. Though with the gentle light of his candles, it was barely visible anyway (one of the reasons why he so loved the night, vain thing that he was).
The back of his neck was coated in a thick coat of caked up wax, dull golden in its hue. His head bowed slightly from the weight of it, even more so constantly dribbling from his candle-laden antlers. That was alright though, it would all just vanish once he left anyway. He didn't plan on staying that much long anyhow.
His olive eyes stared stoically ahead, fixated upon the bobbing pictograms of fellow deer in the vast distance. He didn't pay any real attention to them, but they offered a point of interest to set his eyes on so that he did not look asleep. No, he was lost in the realm of his own thought, mentally scanning over what needed to be done... what he had to do... lessons he had to give his student... and so on and so forth.
The only light for several feet emanated from his candles... in combination with his floating identification tag. As far as he knew, he was the only other deer around. No one wanted to go to the Ruins at night... superstitious things that they were. It would have been funny if it weren't so sad at the same time.
The small buck breathed a gentle sigh, the breathy sound of it breaking the calm silence that he had built up. It had been so quiet that he could only barely hear the light crackling of the flames eating never ending twine on his candles. Peaceful. That was why he had come back. Prison or not... the forest had his permission to proudly boast how it could hold up such a quiet atmosphere.
He was sitting up in quite the disciplined position, his dainty hooves crossed much like a human's legs would be, displaying their metallic glow with the flickering of both flame and pictogram.
Overall, he seemed like a peaceful enough beast, though perhaps he would have found the term 'beast' insulting. It was hard to tell either way.
@Gingernut: ((Pffft, that's
Though one being who had never been intimidated by the ruins bathed in moonlight was the stag currently stepping towards them on gentle hooves that left nary a dent in the ground, much less a sound in the dead leaves they daintily touched.
Another argent figure inhabited this night and he was not, as opposed to the other deer, scared of what hid in the darkness.
Mostly because he was what hid in the darkness.
For as long as his vile breed had existed, people had associated them with evil, darkness and danger and over time, they had slipped into the subconsciousness of men and women as one of the many monsters to beware of in the dead of night.
He sighed, stopping for a little moment to direct blood-red, glowing eyes at the brilliant moon, a narrow sabre hanging above all like the grin of some monstrous mask.
It smiled at him and he smiled back.
The moon had always been his faithful companion when all other abandoned him. In his darkest hours, he could always look at its silvery light and it would soothe and comfort him. He had made use of this asset many times...
Shaking his head softly to get rid of the gloom overtaking his mind, Esclave composed himself and moved along in his gentle stride... Before stopping again, ears erect and gaze fixed on one point.
A light.
Why was there a light in the ruins? The deer around here seemed to shun that place as much as they did his kind, at least in the dark.
He tilted his head curiously and cautiously moved closer, soundless like a wisp or a spectre moving across snow. If this was a deer brave or wise enough to not fear the ruins, he wanted to meet them. He also wanted to keep a low profile in case they turned out to be another thing hiding in the dark.
He shuddered lightly as he approached, nostrils pealed for any kind of smell, even the slightest whiff of what might be hiding between those broken pillars. He was a little scared... but it would be worth it to slake his thirsty curiosity.
He licked his lips... wanting to call out to whoever it was behind the pillar... but his mouth was dry and wouldn't allow a single sound past the barrier of his lips.
crack!
...
He'd accidentally stepped on a twig.
He completely froze up.
Standing stock-still.
-------
@Faunet: The silver-haired stranger gave a soft, embarrassed giggle.
"I suppose so..." He said, shy eyes only daring to look at hers. Shy... but sweet. There was an honest quality to their deep, crimson glow - that had to be contacts. No-one had red eyes, right? Unless the guy was an albino, of course, but what were the odds for that?
The stranger looked away, a timid smile on his lips.
"I was just wondering if... You would care for some company?..." He asked innocently. He looked so very lonely...
((Good then, because I feel
What other sounds were there? A few casual, faint echos here and there, and his own gentle breathing, but little to nothing else. The small buck let his eyes close, large spoon-shaped ears ticking every which way. Perhaps, once he had the proper strength, he would go back 'home'. Not now though, it was far too peaceful. And if anything else, perhaps someone would wander in and find him.
The ashen buck had a habit of dunking himself into thought, so much so that hours could go by without a blink of an eye. He thought about anything really, anything that caught his fancy. Sometimes, he wrote novels in his head, only to reread them once he was finished, he balanced imaginary sums, and produced compositions. Not exactly 'normal' activity for one such as him, but comforting all the same. In the past, such routines kept his sanity in check. But now... they were nothing more than a means for him to calm down after a particularly stressful day.
The broken twig caused for him to jolt out of his stupor, largish ears sprung up much like a rabbit's. The candles atop his antlers flared up in surprise, causing for a few fresh globs of wax to dribble onto his back. He looked stiff as a board, eyes searching carefully over the obscured landscape.
"Who's there?" he called, a high, reedy sound that seemed far too bent on trying to sound authoritative. Wincing, he ducked his head down, rubbing the tip of his muzzle against his fluffed chest as if he was in pain. "If you're coming to mourn, then at the very least make your presence known." he added in. Funny, he didn't sound frightened... more or less simply unsure of himself.
Bartleby wasn't scared of the dark, nor of the ghouls and goblins that lurked within it. What did he have to fear for? His life? Of course not. He was by all definitions completely immortal. He had seen far too many oddities and surreal creatures to surprise him much, even going so far as to fall in love with one. In terms of different species, nothing much really shocked him nowadays. The supernatural knew no bounds.
He didn't bother in stumbling to his hooves. It wasn't like he could run anyway. Even now he was still rather careless with himself at times...
Esclave moved not a single
It hurt his eyes and he winced slightly, moving a hoof which sent a rattling through the leaves. The voice sounded young, though... Young and fragile. In some ways, it reminded him a lot of his master, which made him instantly gain a trusting disposition towards it. But even with that, he was cautious as he spoke.
"I'm... Terribly sorry to have startled you..." He said, voice soft and careful as he hesitantly started moving into the light of the other's candles. He wasn't keen on revealing himself, it was part of his instinct to keep hidden, after all, but he figured he owed the smaller one that much. Simply because keeping hidden away from your conversation-partner was extremely bad mannered.
He gave a small, soft smile as he came into view, eyes quickly running over the other, though only briefly. Those candles still stung like the sun itself on a shady day.
He had to shake his head to prevent himself from hissing in pain.
"And non, I am not here to mourn... I was simply on my way here for a walk when your lights caught my eye..." He said softly, still averting his eyes from that bright light, keeping them squinted so much, you couldn't even tell what colour they were. He almost looked like a normal deer in this flickering warmth.
"I should probably have announced myself, heh... pardonnez moi..." He said with a soft chuckle and an apologetic bow, showing respect and submission as he always did to any stranger, slave as he was.
((Nngh, sorry, that wasn't a very good post .____.))
The tips of flame upon his
How odd... the stag had red eyes. That brought back some memories, that was for sure. The antlers were curious things too... metallic much like his own pretty golden hooves, though of an admittedly less than stellar silver gleam. He did not smile in return. "There are plenty of lights besides mine. Our identification tags... fireflies... and yet mine interest you? Not many deer enjoy coming to this area in the dead of night, sir." he murmured, a twinge of paranoid suspicion creeping into his voice. "For all you know I could be nothing more than a ghost..." and that wasn't said mockingly either. Bartleby knew full well that many of the superstitions about the ruins were based on truth.
"Quite alright." though from the tone of his voice he didn't sound like it was 'alright' at all. "Are you of French origins?" he asked suddenly, peering up at the stag's muzzle, never his eyes. Bartleby would be damned before he could even muster up the courage to look into most anyone's eyes. "I haven't heard that particular dialect in a long while. Forgive me if I'm wrong." How awkward...
((Nahhhhhh~))
His red eyes made her curious
She blushed slightly at his words truth be told she was lonely herself and he seemed to be as well.
"Sure company is always welcomed"she sayed sweetly
She turned her eyes away from him fearing that she was staring which would be an awefully rude thing to do.
@Gingernut: The taller mule
"Ah, that is exactly the reason!... I got curious because most deer avoid this place at night..." He explained apologetically, though bowed his head respectfully at the end.
"I-it was probably foolish of me, you're right..." He said in a gentle yet submissive tone. He could feel the slight hostility from the other and his imposed instincts immediately kicked in, telling him to apologize for what he had surely been the cause of.
Though he looked up in surprise at the question.
"mais... oui!..." he said, giving a small, hesitant smile, bright eyes now giving off the shine the candles had been suppressing just before.
But then he seemed to remember something and shook his head.
"Ah, forgive me... I am actually of Russian descent, though I have spent all the life I can remember in La France." He said softly with a small, affectionate smile ornamenting his muzzle.
"And you, sir?... I-if you don't mind me asking, that is?..." He said, giving that small, respectful bow of his head again.
@Faunet: But he lit up in a smile and took a small, hesitant but eager step towards her.
"Ah! Wonderful!..." He said, feeling a little awkward as he shifted, looking at the bench.
"Would you, uh... mind if I sit next to you?..." He asked softly, briefly wetting his lips. The damn things were drying up again...
Bartleby was silent for a
"Mm... I can understand your curiosity. The creatures here are far too terrified to come to terms with the supernatural that lives here..." he mused, craning his neck to look about himself. "They're quite good company, in reality... very quiet." the ghosts were, at least. Almost all of them were shy, kindly things... much like this stag. "Foolish actions don't make you a fool yourself." he simply replied, with little feeling. "I've done quite a few idiotic things here myself..."
He listened politely, eyes locked to the center of the stag's chest. "Ah, a born Soviet then... what time period?" he asked. It wasn't a strange question. The beings who had used to be humans were usually all over the place in terms of when they had led their lives.
At the question, he almost smiled. It was quite faint, but still present all the same. "I come from Flemish... ah... Belgian descent, sir." he murmured gently, not without a small hint of national pride. "Though I'm sad to say that I never was ever physically in my country... my family immigrated to the east coast of the United States shortly after the Great Depression long before I was born... but I was still raised with my Dutch tongue before learning English." actually, he had pretty much learned the two side by side growing up, both the conserve his heritage and assimilate him into society as young as possible. Such was the Bartleby way.
He seemed to catch himself, shaking his head lightly. "Ah, apologies... I'm rambling." he bowed his head slightly, only to jerk it back up as he remembered something. "I should have introduced myself sooner for formalities sake..." he sighed. "You may call me Troy..." his middle name. By all accounts he would have gone by his family title with strangers... but the stag was in a different sort of mood that night. His middle title was far more obscure anyway. "And you, Sir?" he coaxed.
The silvery stag gave a soft
He was used to standing while those above him sat, it was a fact he'd always lived with, one he'd grown up with and one he didn't mind. He had strong legs and never minded standing. Still, he smiled and bowed his head gracefully.
"Thank you, sir..." - and sat down with just as much grace in one fluent motion.
Though his face seemed to give a nervous, little twitch as Troy asked about his time-period. He didn't know that this forest was a big amalgamation of different eras and times, so he was certain this information would give him away as supernatural... But he could clearly feel the smaller buck was superior to him and he could not refuse to answer a question from his superiors...
"I was... born in 1255..." He said quietly, of course referring to when he had been bitten and turned. He had been 19 back then, but his new masters had told him he was not human any more, his past was of a dead person and that he should never count his human years as part of his unholy existence... That way his humanity might be able to enter heaven with a little bit of luck...
But he gave a small sigh as Bartleby continued, only happy for a change of subject.
He listened intently as the frail one spoke, the nervousness soon washed off of his gentle features. He gave an apologetic smile and nod as he was asked for identification, having completely forgotten in the midst of all this excitement.
"Ah, yes! I do apologise, it appears to have slipped both of our minds..." He chuckled gently. "I... Do not have a name as such, but you may call me Esclave if it pleases. That is what my former masters called me." He said with that small, graceful bow of the head again.
So submissive... So accommodating... He truly was a slave, and a well-trained one at that.
The movement was noted with
"1255? That's quite new for me..." he smiled for once, in an almost childish sort of interest. "I was born in... ahh..." he closed his eyes in thought, attempting to remember. "...1957? Yes, I think that's it." he nodded, the sparks of fire upon his antlers brightening slightly, emulating his interest. "There are many here that used to be humans... from all different time periods and worlds... It's quite fascinating to learn about them. You get a first-hand impression of their world without having the hassle to read a textbook of someone who hadn't experienced it." he rambled. That was what interested him most about the forest... the mysteriousness of its inhabitants. He himself had all the time in the world to do so, immortal thing that he was. He had to keep himself entertained somehow. Such things kept him sane.
He blinked in surprise, though seemed pleased all the same. "Pleased to meet you, Esclave." he murmured first, polite as always. "Are you implying that you were a servant?" he asked, a little smile curling up his expressionless lips. "If your class hasn't changed, then we're on the same plane then." well, not really. Bartleby was still 'technically' of noble blood, he just no longer had the proper authority.
"No need to call me 'Sir' if we're both servants, correct?" he had never been one for being called that, anyway. His family name or 'master' would have done just fine in the past. "Mm... no name... that's peculiar..." he mused, though not in a particularly suspicious manner. The subject of names had always held much interested to him
As Bartleby rambled on about
So he wasn't exposed! Ah, thank God!... He smiled as the buck spoke, an interested glint in his eye as well.
"I had never thought of that, what an excellent idea!" He cooed excitedly, a very distinctly French pronunciation of the last part of the "excellent". Obviously, he must have spend most of his life in France for all Russian to have left his system. How sad...
Though he shook his head as the subject of being a servant came up.
"Ah, non, I am not exactly a "servant"... I serve, yes, but I am hardly worthy of any rank... It is safe to say, I am most definitely below you..." He said with a small chuckle, swallowing the "sir" as he was always more than keen to do as he was told, in this case, not calling his new acquaintance "sir".
Despite the chuckle, there was something melancholic in his expression and voice as he spoke, some ancient scars still not having healed right in his mind and heart... Beneath his gentle demeanour and softly spoken words, he seemed like such a sad creature, though he only let this realization bleed through in his weaker moments...
He just kept that mask up with a brave porcelain smile.
Wow. O.O That's alot of
Siggy by Stalkerdino! Avatar by me! :3
Yeah, it is XD And I'm such a
And I'm such a hypocrite... I always claim I hate to read stuff online, yet I adore long RP-messages XD
Esclave's accent was...
And that was all Esclave was to him, a source of information. There was no potential for a friendship or even an acquaintanceship in Bartleby's eyes. The stag was simply nothing more than entertainment for himself... and a bit of stress. He constantly fidgeted in his place as they talked, awkwardly turning his eyes which way and that as if he had no idea on what to do with them. He was a curious creature in that way.
"Your antlers... they're of pure silver, aren't they?" he asked randomly, casting his eyes upon them. "Quite noble things... I've never seen another deer with a metallic part to them..." he lifted a gently polished golden hoof, to emphasize his point. And complete with red eyes... just like what he once had in the near past... Hm.
"...I'm... ah... rather new to the field myself..." he admitted, unable to keep away the embarrassed flush on his cheeks that bled through his thin fur. "I hold a position as a tutor... I don't quite know what that rank would give me..." he had been so used to exerting his own power that the hierarchy of servants had never occurred to him.
"Not at all"she said
She picked her bag up and set it on the ground beside of her.The bag landed with a thump and she chucked. "Youd think dance bags would be alot lighter:she joked lightly
Her blue eyes shined with happiness
@Gingernut: But Esclave gave
"My death?..." He asked, air-headed for a moment... Before it hit him with a tonne of bricks.
He sighed. He had no wish to keep the obvious hidden for Troy. He seemed like a regal individual and Esclave was too used to going against his own wishes and telling the truth to those higher up than him.
Besides, lying was a grim, purifying thing that did not sit well with him at all.
"I beg your pardon, but... I am not dead yet. I was born in 1255, yes, and lived until now. It is 2011, is it not?..." He gave a small chuckle.
"-Though most would hardly call me living..."
No need to keep it hidden. Troy seemed like he would not use it against him or be appalled and leave him there. Of course, if it came down to it, he would gladly move for the sake of the smaller buck and leave the ruins for him. He was in a pretty good mood tonight after all.
At the mention of his antlers, he looked surprised and shot them a brief glance.
"Noble?" He said, giving a small, clear, pleasant laugh.
A laugh that briefly gave a flash of something quite ominous, though it was gone so fast, it could just as well have been an illusion, a trick of the dim light.
Fangs.
"Oh, I am nothing even near noble... But it is true, yes, this metal is probably what comes the closest." He chuckled, tilting his head as Bartleby extended a hoof and giving a soft, admiring smile.
"Ah, how lovely!" He purred pleasantly, red eyes so soft and warm. He hadn't seen gold in a long time and the last time was on the dainty feet of his beloved countess... He sighed and shook his head, clearing it.
"A tutor?" He said, expression back to normal and memories pushed aside.
"That would place you rather high in the hierarchy..." He pondered. It had been years since he last interacted with others of the serving-class, but he seemed to remember that those in charge of education were highly-revered...
@Faunet: -And making him laugh in return, a clear, soft and warm sound that rung through the evening air like silver bells.
"Indeed, my lady!..." He said, giving her a warm smile and gaze, those crimson eyes shining just like her azure ones.
"You're a dancer?" He asked with interest, getting a little more comfortable on the bench with grace and subtlety.
Ah, now it was his turn to be
The laugh was regarded with some nervousness on the buck's part, his small body tensing slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought that he saw a small flash of something pointed in the stag's mouth. Though from the grim lighting of it all, it was hard to make out what the source of the gleam even was. So for now, he chose to ignore it. Even so, he acted more cautiously now... only on a subtle scale, but his eyes were now constantly locked to the stag's mouth, as if trying to bore holes into it.
"Even servants can be noble, Esclave..." he murmured, blinking slowly, his posture refusing to slacken. "The term itself goes farther than actual blood, but in mannerisms as well." he didn't quite believe his own words, merely saying them to be polite.
He shook his head lightly, floppy ears waving at the sides of his head. "Mm... Well... it seems as if I won't be holding the position for that much longer anyway..." he murmured enigmatically. And what would he do then? Something to keep him busy. He'd go mad if he didn't have work to do, after all
At the sound of Bartleby
Could the world really be that small?
Nah, probably not.
Though he smiled a sad, little gentle smile accompanied by a chuckle as the smaller being spoke.
"Please, do not fool yourself or me, there is nothing noble about me..." He sighed, that sad, little smile so eerily beautiful on his muzzle in the gentle moonlight.
He almost looked like he was born to look suffering.
Though he cleared his throat as well and tilted his head as Bartleby went on, that last sentence so mysterious and ominous at the same time. It made Esclave feel strangely uncomfortable...
"What do you mean? Why would you lose your position?" He asked, tender heart already worrying about the other like only this naïve, little fool could.
So quick to bond with strangers, so willing to help and to take their sorrows upon himself...
A foolish, little good-hearted slave.
(No subject)
"Oh... that's... rather complicated..." he fumbled, not exactly sure on how to word any of it himself. Bartleby was always a little leery with giving out information that he probably shouldn't have been giving out. So instead, he tried to find a way to dance around the subject, while at the same time remaining completely polite.
"My charge isn't exactly... human, you see..." he murmured, figuring that to be safe enough. "His species...ahm... ages in a different manner..." he risked, figuring that would be more than enough to quench the stag's curiosity.
Unless...
He looked up at Esclave's muzzle, more critically this time, his candles flaring up to give him a better look. The tips of his pretty hooves lightly dug into he ground, as if in anticipation.
As the candles flared,
His lips curled back with the hiss and there they were.
Fangs.
Long, sharp and thin like needles and so ominously cacophonous with his otherwise gentle and subdued features.
He turned his face away from the light, eyes shut tightly, gasping quietly as his fangs were now expertly concealed yet again.
He whimpered quietly.
"Ah! Pardonnez moi!... I have... sensitive eyes..." he panted, blinking those glowing red orbs carefully, trying to will the pain away from them.
The flare had come quite unexpectedly and caught him off guard, so even if it hadn't been particularly strong, it still blinded him momentarily and burned his eyes agonizingly.
If Bartleby had even been
Small world indeed. The buck was far from stupid, and everything seemed to meld together in such a way that the stag in front of him could be no one else. His expression turned more obviously paranoid now, brow furrowed as his lips pressed in thin line. He flicked his eyes upwards to the blazing candles on his antlers, almost disinterestedly despite the stag's obvious pain. "Oh... apologies for that. I can't directly control them..." not true.
Needless to say the buck held little to no real empathy for the stag. He often forged bonds in such an erratic manner that his reactions to certain people and deer went over a wide spectrum depending on how they had resonated with him. In the end though, to him; Esclave was nothing more than a co-worker, and a disliked one at that.
"You're the vampire that master Heika was referring to, aren't you." he confirmed, more to himself than the stag. It was rather painfully obvious. Even if the stag hadn't lifted his ears in recognition of the name he would have suspected for his sole title as a servant. "How odd... I didn't think that I'd ever have the.... ah... pleasure, so to speak." he faltered, a bit unsure on how to word himself. If anything, he seemed even more unsure on what to even think of the being in front of him.
After a short pause, he let the flames on his candles die down to mere smoking tips to offer him enough illumination to watch the stag and enough darkness for him to feel comfortable. He couldn't anger the thing after all...
Or was he even capable of anger? Bartleby wasn't sure... he had only the barest amount of information on the stag and little to nothing else to go by... other than the bruises that was...
Esclave gave a jerk at the
Troy was another of his master's servants?
Carefully, he turned his head to look at him, squinting at the darkness, cringing a little. He could feel the other's disdain a mile away and it made him uncomfortable, making his neck itch slightly, leading him to pull a little further away.
"You're..." Slowly, he pieced the little clues together.
"You're Bartleby, then?..." He asked mutedly, immediately relaxing a little more as the lights dimmed to a level his eyes could stand. Looking at those had almost been like looking at the sun...
He bowed his head respectfully and humbly, now feeling like he was even lower in the hierarchy than his current company.
"It's... an honour..." He mumbled, trying a hesitant, little smile.
He could almost taste the tension in the air and it did not amuse him. It brought back bad memories of the punishment he'd endured in his time in France.
He wouldn't be surprised if Bartleby wanted to punish him too. The way he was looking at him, he knew he'd seen the bruises on their beloved master and he knew nothing he could say would ever make it up to anyone.
If Bartleby wanted to punish him, it was all for the better, Heika had not... and that even after Esclave had made himself so deserving of it.
His laughter sent butterflies
She blushed slightly when he asked her if she was a dancer.
"Yes I am actually"she said crossing her legs and leaning her back against the bench.
"I just got off oh I'd day about an hour ago"she said shrugging
"What manner of dancing do
-Though at the sight of the blush, he chuckled.
"Ah, pardonnez moi, if I am too forward..." He said softly, slightly embarrassed at having gotten the girl to blush. Still, he found her pleasant company already~
"Not at all monsior I do a
It's different and most wouldn't choose this lifestle but for me................it works she said smilling as if she knew a secret.
At the sound of the one
"Ah, how admirable!" He said
"It is impressive that you chose to not yield to conventions..." He said, returning her smile with one of warm admiration.
She chuckled its more than
"Have you ever performed on stage........"?she realized that she did not know his name and she never introduced herself either.
Forgive me "I'm Rosealine" she said giving him a smile
In reality, Bartleby didn't
Even if Bartleby was used to seeing the strange and supernatural, he couldn't help his own predisposed feelings towards the creature. Sighing, the small buck watched as bowed his head and offered a smile... which he returned with nothing more than a cock of the eyebrow. "Yes, I am..." he simply replied, his tone quiet. "And why an honor? I'll soon be lower in the hierarchy than you in no time at all." he almost sounded bitter, but it was thinly veiled with a mask of disdain. It may have been a foolish thing for him to say, but it was his mindset. Even after specifically talking about to other people he had still kept his own predisposed feelings.
As much as he might have wanted to 'punish' Esclave, Bartleby would not, could not even. It wasn't in his authority to do so. That, and he still wasn't exactly sure what had happened in the first place... just that it was the vampire's fault.
trackplz :>
.
@WonderfullySarcastic: Many
@Gingernut and Faunet: Would you guys like to continue the RP or is it too old? XD
updated
update
Placing a track here~! : D
Placing a thanks right back!
Updated with less tacky
(Seriously, "cursed by blood?" What was I thinking?...)
//walks in anonymously
Tracking <3 I remember this guy from years back X3
Oh my! Is this a new account?
Gah, now I feel all old, not being able to remember stuff and having deer that are actual several years old XD
Yes, I believe I was on the
Oohhhh, Zoetrope, I remember
heh, I'm not surprised, I'm an incurable RP addict XD;;
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