Where the Jasmines Bloom ((Open))

[morgan]

"You're a strange one, I need the sun myself. Well, that's stupid, everyone needs the sun. I just need it a little more."

She paused to consider whether this was a stupid thing to say, decided probably the answer was yes. Then she said it anyway, curiosity could push her to strange lengths, and he'd been so nice so far.

"When I saw you, this is weird, but I thought you were some fairy creature. You came down like a wolf upon the fold or something, that's why I... ran.
You don't look like other people-"

Oh god, what am I doing? she cringed internally, watching his face for a reaction, hurrying to correct herself.

"I mean, not in a bad way. Just different, I kind of like it."

Shit.

"May I see your sculptures?"

[artistgayle]

Ruban chuckled "Yes well I'm sorry if I scared you it was not my intent." he licked his lips and looked like he was nervous for a moment "You see I have a skin disease it's not contagious so do not worry but it makes my skin look smooth and....strange as you say...It's also very sensitive to the sun so I am unable to go out...uh uhprotected....infact after I've gone through the trouble of protecting myself to go out in the day I've already lost the desire to go...so I just remain in my home until Nightfall and then come out when the sun is gone" he said smiling kindly at her "Yes of course...please right this way"


He led her back to his home (or rather one of them) It was a classic Victorian Home and looked like a page out of the history books against the rest of New Orleans He opened the door everything was dark "It's an old House so there is not electricity...everything is lit with candle light" he said walking over and lighting up a candle, the candle was in front of a mirror and it reflected the candle light making the room seem a lot brighter There was a Romantic quality to the house, you half expected to get swept off your feet by some handsome Noble Lord

"My Sculptures are in this room" He said softly leading her into another large room he had come up with another candle and lit this room up as well it was an amazing workshop Most of his sculptures were of women and children the detail was amazing it was so realistic you half expected them to move.

[morgan]

"Ah, I'm so sorry! I didn't know."

Still shrinking with embarrassment at her own careless remarks, Morgan gazed in awe at the gorgeous house they were moving through. Lit by candles, the mirrors shared and refracted a sweet ambient light that made all the high ceilings and details seem part of a different world. Following Ruban past all his antique furnishings and a thousand of the tiny details that the Victorians had loved so much was almost physically painful- she was constantly having to restrain herself from bolting off to stare at a painting or some intricate object that had just caught the candlelight. She felt as if she'd tripped onto the set of a period drama, and was half expecting a servant to pop out and take her coat. It was something of a relief when it didn't happen, she would have had no idea what to do.

"A place like this in the middle of New Orleans!"

She marveled as they entered the workshop- but if she'd been amazed by the house then she fell in love with the sculptures. They were sort of classical, in a way she hadn't been expecting. Neo-classicism had been out of fashion for a long time, mostly because modern sculptors didn't really have the skill to pull it off... but skill definitely was no issue here. She fairly ran to the nearest and stared into it's impassive face, a woman nude. The most beautifully made sculpture she had ever seen had been a Bernini in a gallery in Rome- the Rape of Proserpine. In that sculpture every detail was stunningly visible, marble tears rolled down the face of the goddess, Hades fingers depressed the skin of her thigh. She thought that in this innocent face, Ruban's sculpture, she could count the eyelashes.
Nearly everything in the room matched the Bernini masterwork, and all the exclamations, all the cries of joy and awe seemed to crash together in her head and snuff each other out. She was silent.

[artistgayle]

Ruban remained in the doorway letting her walk around his workshop admiring his sculptures he chuckled softly

"I assume from your silence you either really like them or really Hate them"

He stepped forward closer to an unfinished piece he had started the night before but didn't have the heart to complete it was of a Beautiful women however unlike the rest of the sculptures which had at least one Flaw or another this one was perfect, the women was curvaceous her hips and breasts forming a perfect hourglass shape her Delicate arms folded over her chest out of modesty unlike the other sculptures there was a long flowing cloth draped over her legs she was covered innocent yet Sexy her hair was so detailed you could almost make out each strand of hair the shape of her jaw was soft delicate the only thing missing was her face...where the face should have been was a smooth area

Ruban placed his hand on the faceless sculpture staring at it for a long moment like he was remembering something from long ago

[morgan]

It was a while before Morgan realised that he'd spoken, because she was admiring the perfect tilt of a young boys hand, and barely visible the intricate tendons on his wrist. She thought that she could probably spend years in this room and not see it well enough. The boys cold white hand was reflected perfectly in her fathomless eyes, and she frowned with concentration to look at him, unwilling to draw away. Finally she collected enough words in her head to make a response, when she noticed her companion was at the far side of the room and absorbed in the unfinished work.

"You're some kind of genius."

She said quietly, it seemed wrong to say it now, too late. He was looking at the sculpture with an expression she couldn't read. She felt cold and slightly sad to look at him, he didn't cry or even look particularly depressed, but she knew somehow that the sculpture meant more to him then a mere body... and it was a real body. Faceless, but not characterless the woman stood, and suddenly Morgan knew what she saw in Rubans eyes. He must have loved her so much. Silent again, she crossed the room to stand next to him, and looked at the empty plane of her face, her arms crossed in front of her to keep the worlds eyes from her perfect breasts. Beautiful- they were all beautiful- but this was different. Instinctively she reached out to put a hand on Ruban's shoulder.

[artistgayle]

Ruban didn't move, for a moment it was like he himself was one of his sculptures then he blinked and looked over at Morgan and smiled "I'm sorry my dear..I was somewhere else....did you need something?" he asked softly tilting his head some of his long black hair came out of his coat where he had tucked it away and hung loosely over his shoulder

He looked up at all of his other sculptures then back at the women

"I didn't have the heart to Finish her" he said softly

He placed his hand on the unfinished face, feeling the cold smooth stone

*This is what I am* He thought

*An Animated Sculpture*

[morgan]

"You don't have to. Don't let a sculpture push you around."

Morgan responded with a shy smile, looking into the womans blank face. The smooth plane was delightful in itself, and she was struck with a sudden urge to paint on it, paint a face to match that body in strength and character.

"She's very beautiful... what's her name?"

Once again Morgan found herself alarmed at her own carelessness. Ruban had put her on the back foot, she was finding it hard to choose words that wouldn't offend him while he responded seemingly effortlessly to her fumbles, her too-personal questions. Clearly this woman was important to him, what right had she to ask about her? She'd only just met him. Noticing that his long black hair had slipped free, she was surprised at it's unnatural length, and the strangely bright way that it caught the candlelight. It must be hard to care for, and she thought for a second that he was vain, but no, he'd hidden it in his coat before. The man was a mystery.

((sorry for these slow replies, school's killin' me.))

[artistgayle]

He took his hand off the faceless sculpture, noticed the free strand of hair he grabbed it and lifted his coat slightly replacing it with the rest. He was silent for a long while then he looked at her and smiled

"To Be honest I don't know her name" he said with a slight shrug

He looked back at the sculpture "She is of the Nordic People...Decendent of Vikings, She doesn't use her real name any longer..I just know her as Valhalla"

[morgan]

It was good to see him smile, it reassured her that he wasn't offended- but the answer in itself raised a thousand more questions that she had to bite down on. Nordic? Descendant of Vikings? These things were insanely hard to trace, how could 'Valhalla' possibly have known these things? Why didn't she give out her real name? How did they meet? Why Valhalla, which was no name at all but a place? Maybe most importantly, what was she to him?

"Nice name, like a superhero or something."

Morgan looked at him in surprise, he'd swept his escaped hair inside his coat again. She bit her lip and brushed her own long, honey bright hair from her eyes. She was slightly sad to see it go, it had been fairly impressive. That was another question then, maybe one she could actually ask.

"Why do you do that?"

[artistgayle]

Ruban blinked unsure what she was talking about at first, after taking a few moments to piece things together he figured she meant his hair

"Oh....well..." he licked his lips pausing for a moment as if thinking of the words he was about to say

"My hair is so long...it often unnerves people...making them feel uncomfortable I guess" He shrugged

"I just have less problems when I keep it concealed" he moved and took off his coat letting his long hair hang free over his back, the strand hadn't been close to the entire length of his hair

[morgan]

"Unnerves people? I don't see h-"

She stopped as Ruban removed his coat, letting his long hair trail down his back like a curtain. It was almost impossibly long, and she found herself remembering what she'd said earlier about fairy creatures, and the way he'd looked when they met. The way he still looked, actually. It brought all his other features into sharp relief to see them against this dark and perfect mane, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up in protest at this unnatural creature. Oh, I almost forgot he was some kind of night-walking alien. I guess he gets this all the time though, why doesn't he just cut it?. She crossed her arms nervously, eyeing his draped hair with obvious discomfort.

"Ok, I can see how that would make people a bit jumpy. But really it's nice hair. It must be a lot of work.."

In fact, she thought suddenly, exactly what skin condition would force someone to stay indoors all day? She was not a superstitious person by nature, in fact unlike many artists she had a firm grounding in science, and tended to not to believe in vampires, among other things. Nevertheless, the word did come to mind. After bumping into a man in the middle of the night and being taken to his Victorian house lit entirely by candles, after seeing these sculptures with their strangely classical style, she feeling a bit more open minded. If, she paused in the thought to allow the scoffing of her more rational parts to die down If he is a... vampire, what do I do?

[artistgayle]

Ruban began to sence her nervousness he licked his lips again up until this point he had only relayed on his skill with words to comfort her and lure her in but now he might have to use a bit more. He turned his head tilting it slightly as he gazed at the long strands of silky black hair with an almost loving expression. He began to wonder if he really wanted to kill this girl after all he felt immensely drawn to her, it wasn't every day he could show someone his sculptures and he got a strange pleasure from it...parhaps he could keep her around. He lifted his eyes and met hers with such a look that would make the heart of any maiden melt

"Thank you Miss Morgan" he said softly his voice taking on a more melodic tone to it, it seemed to flow around her wrapping itself around her warming her.

He didn't move his body seemed to glow angelic like in the candle light as he used his Vampiric gifts to twist her perception of him and the room around her.

In a fluid motion he stepped forwards almost like in a romantic dream and gently put his arm around her waist all the while the room around appeared to be moving like she was falling back but in slow motion.

His hair moved forward brushing lightly up against her body it's silky strands alien and unnatural

Ruban still gazed into her eyes "It has been so long since I have shown anyone my sculptures" his long slender white hair moved through her hair massaging it keeping her trapped in the illusion he leaned his head down kissing her lips lovingly then pulled her close his cold lips pressed against her soft neck

He didn't kill her he took enough to sate his own thirst, he had tried his best to make it almost pleasureful for her then he set her on a bench in the Garden just as the sun was rising he disappeared with the retreating darkness...


(Sorry if I took a few liberates there it was not my intention if your are upset about anything let me know and I'll change it around. )

[morgan]

((that's ok, it'll probably make things more interesting.))

The room seemed to buckle and curve around her, and Ruban's eyes seemed suddenly like hot coals, dangerous and alluring. His illusion coupled with the natural attraction he held for her combined into a sort of lust, that failed to totally erase her terror as slipped easily towards her as a dark angel. She let out a short cry of horror, staring with wild black eyes, and then she was somehow in his arms. His embrace was hard and unbelievably strong around her waist- like he was made of the same stuff as his sculptures, and looking on his inhuman face she felt an unfamiliar longing mixed with her fear. A strand of that silk-fine hair fell against her pale cheek. She wondered how this creature had come so close to her, and whether she was going to die. She also wondered if she loved him.

Then he kissed her, his lips as cold as the rest of him, cool and slick as white marble. It seemed easy to kiss him back, and she wanted to, so she pressed her warm lips to his. Like Hades and Persephone she thought, in a vague blur of heat, he's made of stone. The kiss was over, too soon she thought, and suddenly she felt the fine points of his fangs against the hot skin of her throat, and after that their was nothing but jagged pain, and a dangerous, shivering pleasure that seemed to draw her in like a whirlpool. The world shattered around her like a broken mirror, and she seemed to float a black ocean, tossed on looming waves that rose to a primal rhythm. She couldn't see his face anymore, though she knew somehow that he was watching. I'm not dead. The thought loomed underneath her from the water, then darted away into the inky depths, a silver fish. A wave lifted her on her own heartbeat.

-

Morgan was alone. The world was still black, but a comfortable, familiar black. Silent, unwilling to come back to herself, she watched the insides of her eyelids turn from ink dark to a blood-bright red. Dancing points of light floated across them, needle-fine points of brilliances that swam backwards and forwards. Her back was uncomfortable, she must be lying on something hard. Without opening her eyes, she sat up and lightly touched the back of the bench. A park bench. Now she did look around, taking in the glowing dawn light, the way it put bright halos on everything. Tumbled and overgrown tropical plants around her gleamed like they'd been gilt with gold. It was a beautiful morning, she smiled to herself, feeling almost peaceful. Something had happened last night, probably something interesting for her to end up on a park bench. She wished she could remember it, but the tendrils of that bloodless sleep still coiled around her, everything was slightly pale and fuzzy.

Across from where she sat, a jasmine vine curved elegantly over the wall of an old building, laden with tightly closed buds.

Ruban.

She leapt off the bench like a startled cat, as the memory crashed down on her. Her ankle turned, she slammed into the garden path with all the speed of her panic, drawing long scrapes down her uncovered arms, blood oozing from them slowly. In fact, she could see now that her hands where nearly white in the brilliant dawn sun. Low blood pressure. With a buzz of fear ringing in her mind she clambered unsteadily to her feet and ran, faster then she knew she could run.



((bleh longish post. So now what, do you think? I could start a new thread if you want. I guess Morgan would probably try to look for him, once she got over the blind panic.))

[artistgayle]

(Hmmm that would be interesting yes go ahead and start a new thread hmmm maybe on the streets? A couple of Nights later Dunno lol anywhere you like)

[morgan]

((Done, it's in Streets. Watch out though, she's got a Molotov-cocktail ))