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Post by Adam Connor Ledwith on Jan 30, 2010 22:06:59 GMT -5
I've Got The Gift Of One Liners.
And You've Got The Curse Of Curves.
 You're A Dead Fit,
But My Wit Won't Allow It. [/size][/center] ----------------------------------------------------
Over the years he had found a way to call it home. Able to accept the misty air which was humid with droplets of water that ran down from the aqueous leaves. Able to rely on the incommensurable scents that wafted beneath his nose. This was home, this was where he was free, and this surely was where he had no insecurities. The walls of denial had plummeted down and sunk low within the mossy soil. The air that consumed his spirit whole and made him one with the earth. He wasn't an average man. He was a beast. He was a hound. The rough sound of his heart beat was set faster then any other walking creature. A werewolf that had enjoyed the aspects of manhood but knew what it felt like to run wild. Freedom had a whole new meaning to Adam. Imprudently gawking at any man that said he was free. Hah! Under Adam's shoes, he was as well as chained to the plummets of laws and rules.
To live and be free was to have nothing, absolutely nothing standing between the path of a pleasuring life. To be able to stand tall, as a man or as something more and not fail at gaining everything you could have possibly wanted. When standing in these hills, these grassy fields with towering flamboyant trees, Adam was free. And to be free is to be happy.
His ample paw grasped the grime and sunk low beneath the soil. Injected his claws into the wet luscious fill of grass, Adam had tilted his head high. His body was masked with a unrivaled black lustrous and serene coat. To be able to place a hand upon it, one would bury themselves within the soft embrace. The beast itself was larger then an average wolf and stood with muscular and stark legs. His paws left deep imprints against the path. The face of the hound was subtle and pure. It's eyes the same soft and gentle baby blue as Adam Connor Ledwith's. It held the same foreboding and sharp posture, it's head held high. And with that, a rambunctious and emphatic howl escaped the creature. It filled the night air with the echoes of shivering trees and squawks of other animals. They ran in fear, for the creature had let out a hungry groan.
It was as though nothing had touched the ground. It did not quake beneath his large paws as they moved gracefully along the night pathway. The moon was his guidance and light. Adam left his ears stoned up and ready for any possible sound that would accompany him soon. His nose was receiving many traces of different creatures. Yet, what had his stomach desired, he had not decided yet. With that being the possible situation, he continued to lope in the same direction as he had been going.
It was by sudden chance that a deer had crossed his path as he was running. Fuck what he desired, there was food written all over it. Adam was not a picky eater. It antagonized Adam that the creature had caught his scent before hang, making a quick laps for safety. Fuck,Adam snarled between his teeth as he quickened his pace. All he needed was to wait for the right moment, and during that right moment, Adam had to jump. His gentle steps had roughened as he paws now pounded against the damp earth. They left marks and prints that were drenched deeper into the ground. Threatening barks and snarls escaped his broad snout, leaving his food terrified. Adam jumped. His paws spread out wildly as his hind legs impelled him toward the creature. It fell beneath his grasp and struggled to be set free again. Freedom could get you killed.
Adam set his serrated molars into the woodland creature's neck. Setting it's last squirm into silence. Tearing at it till his hunger had subsided, blood stained his black fur. His head whipped back as a satisfied howl escaped him, ending with only a hush as the sound of the whistling wind took his place. Adam had set his journey back to the little tree by the lake, where he had hung his clothes.
As the soft endured fur had twisted and shrunk back into his tall lean body, Adam stood naked against an oak tree. His hands grasping a cloth as he slowly cleaned himself off before thoroughly dressing himself.
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Rose Decumbry
The curse of mortality is what ties us to reality.
Posts: 803
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Post by Rose Decumbry on Jan 31, 2010 20:44:02 GMT -5
The last time she had been anywhere near a forest, was two years ago. Two years ago, she had dated a werewolf. Two years ago, she had found her first mortal love. Two years ago, she had watched her first mortal love, get shot. Several times, being mistaken as an animal, and not a human being. She’d been an emotional wreck, she couldn’t even recognize herself. And so, the woods all around London, had become her enemy, she refused to go within a mile radius of any. She patted her hair back, the smell of a human scent fresh on her nose. She would be eating fine tonight, by the pulp sound of the pulse, the quick rush of adrenaline, sweat, and blood. Her short complex body would make hunting to her advantage as well. Small vampire, large trees, dumbfounded human. A small smile tinted her lips, as she made her way to a tree branch, overlooking several yards of land. No human in sight, her striking features sagged into a pout, why did these people have to make things so much more difficult than it had to be? She hadn’t actually killed anyone since..1904 was it? Completely harmless really, she knew her boundaries quite well. Most of the time, anyways. Rose jumped to another branch, almost losing her balance from the steepness of her heels. Sighing, she kicked the booties off, she’d do without them. Giving up a pair of heels wasn’t as bad as losing an entire meal! And, it wasn’t like she didn’t have a pair almost exactly like them. And as she watched them fall, she caught a blurry paw print. Paw print? Werewolf, a small delighted gasp hit the back of her throat, followed by a primal growl.
This was her territory, or at least she liked to call it that. What in the hell was a werewolf doing on it? Her nose twitched, the human scent gone. “Damn, bloody as filth animal. He made me lose my meal,” she giggled, dropping without a sound to the ground. “I guess I’ll go have to make a meal out of it..” And, that meant she got to keep her lovely booties! She followed the prints, her crisp jacket wrapped around her frame. “Oh, where is the big bad wolf? Did he catch a little piggy?” By the sharp, tangy smell of it, it had. Attention caught momentarily by the smell of blood, she forced herself to keep going, maybe this little werewolf had some nice manners, and decided he would like to share. The smell kept progressing, as she followed intently.
When was the last time she had even seen a werewolf, in wolf form? Ah, two years ago. The copper colored coat of Anthony shot behind her eyes. Her lids slid shut, forcing the image out of her mind. He was gone, you finally moved on, don’t force yourself to go back to that pain, and oh so boring environment. Rose tipped lightly on the muddy grown, careful not to let herself up. But if this little puppy was aware of his surroundings and not tied down by his food, he should have noticed her thick rose scent. Luscious roses were all that would be covered by the time she left this forest. Her scent was just that strong.
Rose decided, whilst looking for this animal, she’d taunt it. Letting out a high, whistle, it had to have hurt its poor sensitive ears. Hmm, no answer yet, maybe he hadn’t heard her.
Well that wasn’t any good was it now? Stepping over twigs purposely, wafting her own scent anywhere the wind would travel. And then, she saw it. A beast with rich black fur, that shown in the moonlight. Feasting on a deer, and the sight of it, was actually kind of a turn on. A haunting giggle escaped Rose’s lips, listening to it drift on the wind. Then the beast shifted, her eyebrows rose, watching the beast dap at the corners of it’s mouth. Since when the hell had werewolf’s had any form of manners?
She almost wanted to rewind the entire scene up till she popped up. Stepping into the open, careful to keep her eyes off the naked boy, she let out another sprite like laugh. “Why, you sure know how to hunt. How long did it take you to realize this beauty was around? An hour at the most? Nice package there, how much you packing?” Yes, she was rude, but she giggled at her own ironic situation. She walked over to where the bloody remains of a deer laid, dipping a pale finger into the mixture, she let the blood slide down her throat. “Nice kill, who knew deer blood would be so..spicy? I prefer humans, oh, what am I talking about? Werewolves to vampires is like comparing apples to oranges.” Her British accent heightened, as another short laugh came from her. She turned back to find him dressed. Her pout deepened, but he look so much more yummy naked. And he was using a napkin to clean his bloody little body! “Aw, since when did animals take on human traits?” Her head tilted to the side, a taunting look held in her wide set ice eyes. Could this werewolf possibly deal and handle Rose’s scrutiny, or would he leave with his tail between his legs?
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Post by Adam Connor Ledwith on Jan 31, 2010 21:36:42 GMT -5
I've Got The Gift Of One Liners.
And You've Got The Curse Of Curves.
You're A Dead Fit,
But My Wit Won't Allow It. [/size][/center] ----------------------------------------------------
The bitter nectaurous smell of blood stained Adam's lips. Licking them before dabbing a cloth against the remaining red liquid. He had been unaware of any presance nearby when he was feasting. Being a hound, food meant a lot to him. But as he had stiffened back into his human form, his body cleansed from any remaining fur or dog like characteristic. His hunger being subsided; he was more aware of his suroundings. And the potint smell of vampire was misting around him. The corner of his lips pulled into a delectible smirk, but he had made no attempt to turn around. Nor was he abashed for being nude infront of the creature. If it was a male, he possibly wouldn't mind. But knowing a man's mind, he might make a boorish remark.
If it was to be a women, she as well might make a blunt utterance, but many women have seen him nude. He had nothing to be embarressed about. The thought of it made him subside a chuckle, he wanted her to be unaware of his own awareness. The cloth was damp with a maroon tinge as he ran it across the rest of his body, leaving him striking clean. “Why, you sure know how to hunt. How long did it take you to realize this beauty was around? An hour at the most? Nice package there, how much you packing?” For a split second, Adam had ignored her voice- but the smirk had remained on his face. It was when she had stepped out, the moonlight setting it's gaze upon her that Adam had turned his focus on her small body. He almost wanted to gush with cackles, but Adam was not rude. Even if it was to a anti-werewolf creature that had a bigger attitude then her as a whole.
His eyes dropped down to her level, watching her dip her finger into the deer's remains. Her face was probably at height level with his "package". So he didn't blame her if that was the first remark she made toward him. That was when Adam had let out a chuckle, his icey blue eyes sparkled as he watched her. "Ahh. Actually, I was just out for a run and it happened to cross my path," his voice was husky as he replied. Blundering his tight dark jeans against his body, he zipped up comfortably. "Nice outfit," he said with much honestly, not a tinge of sarcasm masked his voice as he slipped on his black button down, leaving it untucked and half open.
What an odd little Vampire. She had a striking attitude, and by the way she talked- she needed to be taught some manners. Yet, what did he expect, she was one of those who despised his kind. Adam was turned at an older age then most have, he was seventeen. He had not been taught to despise other races. He merely didn't pay attention to them, although most of the Vampires he had met during his time had not been so friendly. Not that it mattered to him, but to be honest, the sex was good. He preffered species over humans, they had more body movement and the strength to keep going. This provoked Adam to let out another soft chuckle.
“Nice kill, who knew deer blood would be so..spicy? I prefer humans, oh, what am I talking about? Werewolves to vampires is like comparing apples to oranges.” Lips pulling into a smirk, Adam leaned against the tree once he was fully dressed. "In most cases, apples can be quite sour. Orange's are only tang," he spoke with humor, not mockery or spite. He was watching her, finding it lucky that he had eaten. His temper would not rise today, for Adam had been having a good day. A little Vampire couldn't ruin that for him. “Aw, since when did animals take on human traits?”
At first, he had no concept of what she was broaching about. Tilting his head to the side, before looking down at the red wet cloth that he had been holding in his hand. "Half," Adam replied. He was only half an animal, not full. Not that she seemed to care, being have an animal was probably just as bad as being a full one. "How stereotypical," he mused, ruffling his hair for a moment. "I've heard that remark quite a lot, I'm unphased." Adam grinned at her. He honestly couldn't see how someone so small and cute could phase him with such remarks. She may be dangerous or fiesty, but Vampire's rarely could ever kill his moods. The only question he had, was what she was doing here? What did she want from him?
---------------------------------------------------- Word Count: 790
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Rose Decumbry
The curse of mortality is what ties us to reality.
Posts: 803
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Post by Rose Decumbry on Feb 1, 2010 18:14:50 GMT -5
The taste of blood left a tang in her mouth, not good but not bad. Rose inspected her finger, to make sure the dark liquid was gone. Maybe she should make a switch, animals to humans. But the human’s ratio was so much bigger, so more food would be around. No, she’d keep her carnivorous ways. "Ahh. Actually, I was just out for a run and it happened to cross my path," A shiver ran through the tip of her spine at the masculine sound of her voice. And that almost made her want to remark snidely. But she knew manners too. She tilted her head, a blank look on her face. “Oh..lucky catch I guess..” She ran a hand through her blond hair, watching him dress unaware that she was letting her eyes slowly drag over his body. A light beige flush crawled on her face, making her face seem disproportioned with her pallor. The jeans were on, and the flush subdued, and disappointment nestled in her stomach. "Nice outfit," She blinked, letting the compliment sink in. “Thanks,” She muttered slowly, letting her eyes sweep themselves up over his half bare chest, meeting his eyes once more.
That was all she would allow herself, since she was technically still ‘dating’ Derek. But it’d been so long, and she was, how did one put it, deprived. She let her eyes fall to the ground, chin held higher. She mustn’t make any decisions yet, because one thing could lead to another, and then clothes would be shed…
And that would be twice as bad. "In most cases, apples can be quite sour. Orange's are only tang," Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up, narrowing her round eyes slowly. “What if I like sour apples? And oranges usually squirt people in the eyes,” She laughed from behind her hand, her fangs gleaming in the night. He was funny, and she enjoyed listening to him. His sense of humor, especially his looks. Rose let her tongue slide over her fangs, in anticipation. Maybe she’d catch a good meal or something else much more fulfilling. Hell, maybe she’d get all around 10’s. “Will you stop chortling at me? Your making me feel like a child who said something completely inappropriate at the dinner table,” Rose herself though, had to bite her own smile back. His light green eyes had seemed to bewitch her, and that wasn’t good at all. She felt the notion to raise her hand to cover her sternum, but her hand stayed where it was. "Half," Furrowing her eyebrows, she took a step forward, realizing that he was talking about her animal remark.
“I wish I could say I was half and half..Oh well,” she smirked, an enticing look upon her doll features. "How stereotypical," A little flame kindled itself, stereotypical. If this male wanted to see stereotypical, he should see her on a regular human basis. A more outer laugh came, bells chiming. "I've heard that remark quite a lot, I'm unphased." Yes, this male was very, very entertaining. Taking more steps, she was a few paces away from him. “So since we’re ‘stereotyping’ I guess I can try and pick you apart.” A few more paces, and she was head to his chest, peering up at the striking werewolf.
“You seem like the type of guy, who got all the girls,” she laid one hand on his bare chest, her cold to his rushing blood. “All mommies and daddies wanted their baby girls to have the boyfriend like you.” Her hand swept around his neck, “The so called ‘player’, I’m guessing, right?” Her head found its way to the side, her other hand brushing some stray hair out of his face. “And for the record wolf boy, I’m not a werewolf hater. Just certain types, I just don’t enjoy,” She winked.
How hard it was to resist not kissing this man. Hell, she didn’t even know his name. This was how she met Anthony, a course of when history would repeat itself. They started off hot, in Australia, settled down for a few months, and then one day she just watched him die. But what was the point of going after another human, when she would have to plan a funeral one day. Bushing away dark thoughts, she pulled herself up to his face level, batting her eyes slowly at him, letting her dark lashes brush along his cheek. Rose let her face fall as if she was going to kiss him, but pulled her head away at the last minute.
She didn’t want to risk getting hurt by the male mortal species, but hell, she just wanted a little fun. Maybe not a little, but quite a lot. Smiling wider, her shining white teeth was as close to his lips, so she could smell blood on his breath. A low purr escaped her throat. Maybe this puppy wouldn’t even react to her ‘seduction’ but completely blow her off. Now that would just suck. Because that would mean she’d have to go back out to the busy city, or go home to Canterbury hungry, and her pride damaged.
“I’m Rose,” Her voice was lower than a whisper now, her nose almost brushing his.
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Post by Adam Connor Ledwith on Feb 1, 2010 23:06:32 GMT -5
I've Got The Gift Of One Liners.
And You've Got The Curse Of Curves.
You're A Dead Fit,
But My Wit Won't Allow It. [/size][/center] ----------------------------------------------------
An idle draft filled the night with an algific chill, but it had not phased Adam in the least bit. His body held the heat of an oven, when he needed it. Therefore, he was able to walk about shirtless and not feel brisk. The corner of his mouth pulled into a one sided smirk as he watched her study him. She had been taking in his vista as he had been taking in her's earlier on. Her eyes had wafted along his body, and a sudden pensive look crossed her face. Was she disapointed because he had fully dressed himself? Adam was unsure, but he knew that was not going to stand around naked for the pleasure of this little vampire. He had not even asked her name yet. Then again, she seemed more gratified then earlier. Her shrewd remarks had fallen ill, and her sense of manner had sweetened. “Oh..lucky catch I guess..” Adam nearly snorted at that remark. Surely, his catch had saved him the trouble of finding a meal- or simply trying to figure out what he wanted for dinner. But a lucky catch it was not. Adam's attempts to catch a meal was all about strategy. His catches were not "out of luck." If they were, if would be a rare occasion where Adam would find a meal as a wolf. Sighing at that response, he made no comment but let it be.
Icey blue eyes brightened as he watched her laugh. Ahah, she found him amusing. Her small bell like laugh caused his lips to extract into a smile. He had only noticed her teeth for a split second, their pearly white remaninse smoldered into the gloom. “What if I like sour apples? And oranges usually squirt people in the eyes,” her tender voice chimed with banter. This caused Adam to let out a pulpy and sinewy chuckle. His voice had deepened with the laugh. The slit of his eyes shrunk, and it too, looked as though his eyes were laughing. The sky blue pools were sparkling at her. She was adorable. “Will you stop chortling at me? Your making me feel like a child who said something completely inappropriate at the dinner table.” His chuckle had softened into a grin as he watched her. A child. Her height was of one, but he had made no comment. As for the rest, Adam could not picture himself at a dinner table with a vampire. Or that is...with a family of Vampires. The thought of it seemed to ache at him, for he couldn't picture himself with a family at all.
“I wish I could say I was half and half..Oh well.” Adam couldn't read the tone that her voice held when she made that inadequate remark. He wanted to ask her if she thought herself to be an animal. That was odd, most Vampires viewed themselves as higher then the rest. The majority viewed werewolves and humans as animals, which they surely were not...well...not all. Adam new himself to be a hound, he knew that he carried animalistic values. For heaven's sake, he was a werewolf. A dog. A monster in some cases. The small mush of her heals against the moist ground caused Adam to glance up, for he had turned his gaze against the bark of the tree. She was stepping toward him, “So since we’re ‘stereotyping’ I guess I can try and pick you apart.” Raising his brows, Adam gave an expectant yet humorous look. "Tell me then, enlighten me," he gave a low chuckle.
A nimble rigor chilled his bones momentarily as she placed a soft hand against his unfurnished and scanty chest, “You seem like the type of guy, who got all the girls.” That was when Adamn had let out a small chuckle that hadn't heald much humor. “All mommies and daddies wanted their baby girls to have the boyfriend like you.” Her hand swept around his neck, “The so called ‘player’, I’m guessing, right?” A slight smirk formed at the corner of his mouth. "Good job, I applaud you. The only thing is that most girls assume and know that about me. I mean...it's not a hard assumption. You've guessed correct as others had guessed before, but...can you look deeper then that?" He let out a soft snort. She had winked at him, leaning up toward him, “And for the record wolf boy, I’m not a werewolf hater. Just certain types, I just don’t enjoy.” Wolf boy. Wolf boy, Adam let the two words girdle in his mind.
The motility of her lashes brushed against his cheek as she had gotten closer to him, her heels helping their height difference as she leaned up. She was teasing him, and as much as Adam was a whore. As much as he enjoyed a womens company, he had never met a women like this. Never had he had sex after a good meal. Never had Adam used a women for sex when he was in a splendid mood. Most of the time, sex is what lightened his days- when he wasn't exactly having a good one. Adam used women as a form of medicine, and he often needed it. He couldn't remember the last time he had fallen for one. Come to think of it, he had avoided falling for anyone. He didn't want to gain the vulnerability. Adam feared nothing. And to fear nothing is to love nothing. "I'm Rose," her voice was light as she nearly brushed his nose with hers.
"My turn," Adam's smirk deepened. "Like any female I've met, you can be a bitch. In your case and situation, you can possibly be the bitchiest. You're small, but fiesty and demanding. You know what you want, and depending on what it is- you won't stop till you get it. You don't like it when people judge you by your height, just because you're small, it does not mean you're weak," he let out a soft breathe and light laugh. "But everything I just stated is obvious, and anyone could have guessed that. But by the way you present yourself, and the way you uphold yourself. I'm guessing the reason why you don't like 'certain' werewolves is because you've probably had some difficulty in your past. Something still ticking you off, eh?" Adam let his eyes meet her's with an intesity as he narrowed them, as though trying to read further into her. "Something that still haunts you."
With that, he pulled her close to him, pressing her chest against his as he lifted her lightly with an arm. He let his lips brush against her's for a second before pulling them away and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. His heat and odd warmth vibrated through her icy cheek which slightly stung his mouth. "Rose," he whispered his name. "And I am Adam...the wolf boy," his husky voice confided into her ear lightly. He let her slide against his body, setting her feet on the ground. Taking a step back, Adam gave her a mystifying smirk. "It's a galient pleasure to meet you," he took her hand in his and kissed it softly, glancing into her eyes as he did so.
---------------------------------------------------- Word Count: 1,210
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Rose Decumbry
The curse of mortality is what ties us to reality.
Posts: 803
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Post by Rose Decumbry on Feb 2, 2010 18:37:08 GMT -5
  A wind swept through the green tree tops, and for split seconds, Rose looked up. Being so close to this wolf- boy, made her insides rush, if only she could hear her own heart beat to confirm it. But she hadn’t felt anything of any type of feeling within her core since she was fifteen years old. And the last time she’d went on a ‘gut instinct’, was two years ago. Pursing her plump lips, she searched the cheekbones of the werewolf. His laugh at her apples and oranges comment, his lovely smile. She put up a small block, so she wouldn’t let herself fall into deep, when she barely knew him. And if so, he wouldn’t want to see her face again, when she left the forest and went home. Alone, and sad, which wasn’t much of a new trend for Rose. Crawl back into the spacious house, the little heiress would. And it was so big, so empty; she had it all to herself. And she almost began to hate it. But it was the house she grew up in, so she had no reason to move. Some other almost rich as herself family would buy it, and ruin the entire Victorian and Old Age theme. And like hell she would let that happen to her home. "Good job, I applaud you. The only thing is that most girls assume and know that about me. I mean...it's not a hard assumption. You've guessed correct as others had guessed before, but...can you look deeper then that?" Deeper into thought? Oh..She could most certainly do that. “Yes, I can. You have that feel that you sleep with so many women, to fill the emptiness, in here.” She laid a small finger on his heart. “And no matter what woman it is, how good she is to you, how much she excites you, that hole will never be quite filled.” She knew the feeling all too well. Hated how it consumed her one day at a time, till she was all but a shell. And sometimes, that shell was scary. Rose was even coming back off one of those little ‘trips’ as they stood there at the moment.
It’d been bad; she’d been all skin and bones. Her cheekbones had been sharp as acute angles. She looked insane, like a drug user who had hit rock bottom. She’d sickened herself to a point where she didn’t ‘deserve’ to eat, leave the house, or live. All because she refused to talk about the feeling that had consumed her. The feeling of loneliness and darkness, some feelings most didn’t deserve to feel. And it ate Rose even worse, because she felt like she had deserved all this self-torture. Something that happened in 1904, a wild-fire massacre gone wrong. Killed half the population of London, and she hadn’t even considered herself done. But the fulfilling taste of blood had stopped her momentarily. She looked at Adam with sad, knowing eyes.
He though, wasn’t going to dwell on sad thoughts. "My turn," her delicate eyebrows rose high on her forehead. This would be interesting to see his take on her. "Like any female I've met, you can be a bitch. In your case and situation, you can possibly be the bitchiest. You're small, but fiesty and demanding. You know what you want, and depending on what it is- you won't stop till you get it. You don't like it when people judge you by your height, just because you're small, it does not mean you're weak," Hell, he’d been right on about her temper and determination, not to mention stubbornness. Her height, a small smile collapsed on her lips, her height was people’s biggest drive to get her pissed. "But everything I just stated is obvious, and anyone could have guessed that. But by the way you present yourself, and the way you uphold yourself. I'm guessing the reason why you don't like 'certain' werewolves is because you've probably had some difficulty in your past. Something still ticking you off, eh?" He looked at her with fierce enough eyes that she looked away. “Not ticking,” Rose let her voice slip on the last word. No, it was never ‘ticking’. More like haunting, or loving. Picturing him, her voice caught in her throat, closing on her when she was about to speak. "Something that still haunts you."
She nodded, still unable to speak. Yes, if she said no, she would be lying. Anthony still haunted her, every time around spring thaw; she’d have to live through watching him die. Attending his grave, setting roses. But there was something she despised more than anything, the fact that she wanted him to walk through the doors one day, healed of bullet wounds and all. “I’d be lying if I said you were wrong.” She whispered, looking down at her hands. How could she be so insecure, when she was so convinced all the time she was better? Fixed of her anxiety, depression, and empty heart. But there was always someone, something, somewhere that reminded her of him. The sandy hair color, bewitching eyes, anything to do with the beach or Australia. All reminders of the first mortal love that she caught to hold onto. That meant her well. Didn’t want to fuck her over, and leave her heartbroken.
And then, she was pulled towards him, lifted off the ground. Cheeks touching, his warm flesh against his, if only it’d stay like this, warm to cold. A beautiful summer day, to a frigid winter one. Rose’s eyelids fluttered closed, as warm lips brushed over hers. And then it all ended too quickly with a kiss on her cheek. Warm, fluids rushing through his body, she could feel it, hear it, and it was so human, but so other worldly too. "Rose," Humming lowly in the back of her throat, her name, that was her. It sounded so much more eccentric being whispered, then being introduced at a show, said by the common people, or photographers calling her name, to compliment her beauty. The way Adam said it, was more…beautiful. "And I am Adam...the wolf boy," A small, dope grin filled her mouth, eyes slightly glazed over. Wolf boy, how cute. But he had to know that he wasn’t a boy by far.
More like an alpha male. An alpha male that knew he was best, knew he had the best colored fur. Most confident, comfortable with his own skin. Clearly, the other males would try to challenge him, fight him, and try to beat him. But they would lose, miserably, maybe even die in the process of trying to defend their testosterone. The female puppies would swoon to him, begging them to breed their own little puppies. Yes, that was what Adam would be if he was in a pack, the alpha male. And that in itself of a ruler, werewolf or vampire species was enough to make Rose cringe.
Rose had been the only leader, in any relationship. A Coven leader, not by choice, but by ultimate decision and being second in command, she had it thrown at her. Ali had become Co-leader, and she was probably doing more leading than Rose herself was. What a pitiful, disgrace she had turned out to be.
And then she was sliding down his body, back on her heels once more. The wolf’s smirking needed to stop soon, or in fact right now. Adam was going to make her knees buckle sooner or later. No, no he wouldn’t. He couldn’t make her swoon. Because technically, it would be cheating if he did. But it wouldn’t if he didn’t succeed, so she wouldn’t let him. Who the hell was she kidding, she would if he offered the right proposal. Rose bit the inside of her cheek subtly; the skin pierced by fang began to bleed slowly.
"It's a galient pleasure to meet you," She smiled, letting her own blood lap down her throat. Nodding slowly, she looked at the hand he had kissed, for quite some time. “Nice to meet you too, Adam.” She instantly regretted her choice of words, quite the tongue-tied when meeting people like him, but never in an interview that could make or break her.
 NOTES Awww poor Rose and AdamWORDS 1,385
TAGGED Lulu!OUTFIT Outfit
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Post by Adam Connor Ledwith on Feb 19, 2010 20:58:05 GMT -5
I've Got The Gift Of One Liners.
And You've Got The Curse Of Curves.
You're A Dead Fit,
But My Wit Won't Allow It. [/size][/center] ----------------------------------------------------
Her effulgent beauty dawned on him, making Adam slightly squint his eyes. As if she shone a thousand lights and nearly blinded him with her radiance. Her skin seemed pleasantly serene, making him want to reach and touch it. He would have expected a soft warm cheek, but knew better then that. His hand would have been greeted by an icy gelid that would have ran through his fingertips, stunning his heart into place. “Yes, I can. You have that feel that you sleep with so many women, to fill the emptiness, in here.” He hadn't expected much, but her small finger pressed gently against his chest, figuratively where his heart would be. His cloudy eyes resumed their narrowness as he glanced down at where she had touched him. Her finger slowly congealing the area around it. The area began to ache and burn slowly, but not in a sense of heat. His body was masked with a burning glaze, and it was her cold frigid finger that burned him. Adam did not flinch nor move. His gaze had crawled to the very bridge of her lips, where the words had escaped her, before locking into her own luscious gray. Or so it seemed in the moons light- that her eyes were a light gray, mystifying and tender none the less. “And no matter what woman it is, how good she is to you, how much she excites you, that hole will never be quite filled.” Although her words stung him, it was true. His heart truly had frozen over and cracked at the very corner. His hand drew up, and slowly lowered hers- keeping it in his own for a split second. The silence grew for more then a minute as Adam never glimpsed away. She spoke the truth, but why? He did not know.
Adam never knew why. Love was just something meant for heartbreak. A feeling that compromises with pain. A feeling that is passionate with anger and frustration. And eventually, it dawns over loss and misery. Love is a lie. Meant to lure a heart into its deep depths, coating it with romance and mystery. Only to savagely murder what it held in the palm of its hand. Love is a slow form of suicide. Adam refused to give in. "I," his voice held stronger then he expected, "give in." It was gruff and a bit frigid, but he held the same humor he had used before. "Is it that obvious?" His chuckle was hard, and almost humorless, yet Adam smiled whole heartedly. "I'm a man whore, that's what most people prefer to call me. They don't look into the depth of a situation, as you seem to ma'am." Curiosity had been poking eagerly at Adam's side. Why had such a lovely women been hurt? Adam has had his own share of breaking hearts, but those females had become obsessive and compulsive about being with him. He made sure that every women knew he was only in for one night. One night only. Someone like Rose didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve the heartbreak, nor the reason to smother her heart with a cold mask. She deserved to feel the warmth and comfort of strong arms. But she didn't deserve to fall in love. No one deserves to fall in love. Love was dangerous, and that could have possibly been the reason why she was left broken.
The gleam in her eyes had changed. The light luscious gray had darkened into a deep and sad beam. Her gazed pulsed into his brain, registering the sad glare. Adam had to restrain from embracing her into his burning arms. Body growing timid, he quickly looking away. The blue pools groped from something to distract them. His heart slowly ached for her, the burning sensation had barely faded from his chest. Where she had earlier bordered his chest- it throbbed with every second that strolled by them. It did not hurt, nor did it leave a mark- but Adam had rarely let such coldness embrace him. When he took Vampires home, he usually felt the cold, but the heat of the sex was sensational- he was pretty positive he could have burned the creature itself. "Not ticking," Rose's voice seemed to fade a bit at the last word. Drawing his gaze back to her face, his hair solemnly fell into his eyes as he cocked his head to the right slightly. "Something that still haunts you?" Adam's voice was deep and gruff. Her slowly but silent nod left him speechless for a moment. She was broken. He had been correct. “I’d be lying if I said you were wrong,” Her gentle whisper had wrapped itself against his lungs and suffocated him. The warm embrace of his hands molder around her small fragile looking fingers- slowly pulling the brim of her knuckles to his lips. The kiss he pressed upon them stung his lips- but with a more tender and delicate burn. "Do not get your present tangled with your past," Adam softly whispered, his eyes staring down at her hands, leaving them softly pressing against his lips.
"You'll end up worse then I am," His lips pulled into a small smirk, as he glanced down at her. "Or you'll end up dragging yourself down into the pits." Drawing her hands down to her side, he pulled away once more. “Nice to meet you too, Adam,” Her velvety voice chimed into the drum of his ears. He smiled down at her, running his gaze over her catlike features. "Rose," he hummed softly, "The name fits one of such beauty." Indeed, the fragile looking women held the beauty of a goddess. It was expected from her species, but he could see the small pout at the corner of her lips. The mysterious gloom about her- that one would not easily read at first greeting. Adam pressed his back against the tree he stood beside, crossing his arms as he tilted his brows. "I want to see a smile, now," he smirked foolishly- almost like a child. "One that fits the face of a queen." Grinning now, he let a wink pass by him in order to lighten the tense mood that had crossed their path.
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Rose Decumbry
The curse of mortality is what ties us to reality.
Posts: 803
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Post by Rose Decumbry on Feb 22, 2010 16:50:28 GMT -5
She wanted to hum, to just stop time as it was. Adam had been such a gentlemen, so patient, so kind. His eyes squinting, as if she had shown like the sun to him. It was an agreeable and quiet compliment that needed no words. And then, there was something in his blue eyes. A burning desire, was it not? It looked as if he had wanted to touch her, as she did him. And then they returned back to his narrowed and normal eye stature. Rose watched the top of his head, look down to where she had touched. The moment was like something out of a horrific fairytale. She too, looked to where she had touched. Was this acceptable, or not? Awkward, since Anthony’s death would be coming around the corner soon enough? What if she began expecting things from Adam, things he couldn’t possibly provide? And then where would Rose be?
Right back at stage one, a stage where no one would want to see her. It was saddening, and depressing. But it was the blatant point, Ali and Inora had already come close to see that. But it never lasted long, her off the rocker behavior that is. She was a lady and knew how to control her emotions. She was somewhat of an actress, good at controlling her feelings, and hiding them in the abyss of her soul. People said you could see into someone’s soul by looking into their eyes; all you would see out of hers, were swarms of emotions all waiting to be expressed. But Rose couldn’t express them, because every word came out wrong. Every explanation made no sense. So, soon enough, she just stopped trying to tell others what she felt. Love, the sorest topic of them all. How did one know what love was? How could anyone claim that they loved, with adultery, and divorces passing left and right? One couldn’t, because they based it off of someone else’s experience, and it was just sickening. Rose could only claim she loved, once. Once in the past, when life was looking up in the best way.
Oh, she loved her friends, and held them to her heart quite dear. They meant the entire world to her, and without them, she would go insane. But love as in the type they write about in fairytales, couldn’t possibly exist except for in the books. And that was the type of love she was looking for. Maybe, if I become a princess, a prince will come along and prove it to me, she used to think. But that was when she was young and naïve, full of curiosity about the topic of love. Rose was mature now, and didn’t expect things to go her way. In fact, she was betting against herself all the time. "I," His voice dragged her from her cynical, yet true thoughts. "give in." At first, she was confused, unsure of what he meant by ‘give in’. And the way he said it, made it sound forced, unwilling to say it. "Is it that obvious?" He was back to his joking, self. Odd, he was forcing it. Rose had just hit a hard spot. A little fire ignited underneath her eyes, as the competitive side of her wanted to hit a few more; she silenced it, for fear of actually hurting his feelings.
"I'm a man whore, that's what most people prefer to call me. They don't look into the depth of a situation, as you seem to ma'am." Man Whore. What a demeaning term. What was a man whore anyways? A man who slept with countless women for the pleasure, of seeing them wind up hurt? “I like to read into situations and people before I make a judgment.” She was meant to sound light-hearted, trying to lighten up his bleak mood. She was convinced she could, she really was. Rose laughed, trying to make it apparent.
Possibly, it wouldn’t show. Mainly because he seemed so locked in on the saddening words she had said, which the point of being said wasn’t. She hated sympathy, it made her skin crawl. Her whole life, she’d seen and felt so much sympathy, so much remorse, she could be a hallmark card. Her needs were put last, back when she was younger. A man’s need came before a woman’s own. And then, Rose saw it. Something raw and hurt in Adam’s eyes. Wiping her hand at some stray hair in his face, she caressed her hand down his temple, to rest lightly on his cheek. “Who made you a man whore? Who hurt you?” Her voice was quiet, her face contorted in frustration.
Who could possibly hurt a man, who was so used to hurting and breaking other women’s hearts? Or maybe it was something in the past that had made him like this. Someone dared to break him down, and he made it his life mission to do it to others?
"Do not get your present tangled with your past," Rose looked away from him, as his lips pressed soft and tender against her knuckles. They stayed like that for moments, and Rose swore she could feel her heart beating. It’d been years, since anyone had remotely had her do that. Or, at least it felt like it was beating, slow and rhythmic. Who was this werewolf, where did he come from? Why had Rose stumbled upon him like this? She sighed breathlessly, her cool breath releasing over her hands and his lips.
"You'll end up worse then I am," this part, was probably true. But the way Adam said it, so comically; Rose couldn’t help but smile quietly as well. "Or you'll end up dragging yourself down into the pits." An eye roll barely escaped her, but she sustained it. “…I already am in the pits.” Her voice was a little thick, she wasn’t even sure of what she was doing just yet.
And the way he said her name, so preciously and sensually, Rose felt a beating deep within her. She leaned a little closer to him, so that now her lips were just short of grazing him. She stopped breathing; glad for once she wouldn’t need air. If they did lock lips, and then release, Adam would be the only one gasping for air. She could keep going, and going and going. Her lashes covered her eyes, since she was still looking down. Should she kiss him? Or should she wait for his male hormonal instincts to push him forward? "The name fits one of such beauty." A bashful smile hit her lips, which she turned into one of a playful chagrin. One that seemed to scream, “Come and get me, I dare you.”
And then he leaned back against a tree, falling away from her. His childlike voice and face still held her captivated. "One that fits the face of a queen."
And he got his way. A smile that stretched from corner to corner, flashing all her teeth, lit up on her face. “Funny thing is, I knew most of the Queen’s of the early 1900’s.” She tilted her head, peeling some loose hair behind her own ear. She leaned forward, her hands locked behind her back, smiling once again. “This suitable enough?”
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