[M] Face the Music - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: [M] Face the Music (/showthread.php?tid=24567) |
- Amy Sunders - 01-21-2012 [html] OOC Feb 2 Word Count → 000 With time her belly had grown. An obvious bump now sat on her stomach, boasting of a man's deed. Amy was pleased, though the pregnancy made her rather moody. She was hopeful for the pups, hoping they would be strong enough to carry on her family's name. Those who could not would be disposed of, by dropping them off where others would take them in, leaving them to fend for themselves, or outright killing those without a chance at life.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-21-2012 [html] gah, ignore this thread and jsut carry on assuming were at the festival... it's screwed because i though it was set in halifax XD Word Count → 3+ Angel had quite forgot about his meeting with Amy sometime ago, to him it was merely another chance encounter with no strings attached, the way he liked it. He had gone home that night as stoic as ever, passing his sister with a blunt, 'Hola' and heading over to his bed to sit and read, drinking the tea his sister made for him along with the rabbit he had hunted the previous day and that Ana had cooked for them. Angel found it easier to forget things like this, especially as if anyone else had done it he would consider it as a sin in the eyes of God. But as he was one of the special one (to him this wasn't a particularly magical position. Merely it meant that God excuse him from certain things due to his dedication and the Spaniard believed that many people held this rank in the eyes of God) and therefore excusable from his carnal desires. Ana didn't question his morals, she wasn't as devout as him though she still believe as she had been raised to do so. The Spaniard ceased his silent musing and entered a shop, picking up random bits of rubble as he dug his way through the floor to find the wares the shop once contained. He wasn't looking for anything in particular but from what he had seen so far, it was some kind of toy shop. He bent down and lifted a large piece of ceiling. Under this he found a box, wooden, carved, scratched up slightly from time and nature, but secure none the less. Opening it he found a pristine chess board and little chess pieces, jsut like his father's own, but wooden as opposed to metal. Placing the item in his bag with a dull smile, he exited the shop. Hopefully Ana would be happy and would listen while he taught her to play. .agenlsanta .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .agenlsanta p {padding:2px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;} .agenlsanta b {color:#595959; letter-spacing:-.2px; } .agenlsanta {background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/RHmGD.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:450px; text-align:justify; margin:0px auto; outline:1px solid #000000; border-size:1px; border-width:1px; border-style: none solid solid solid; border-color:#595959;} .agenlsanta .inner {margin:0px 10px 360px 10px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://soulsrpg.com/images/pride/templa ... ate_bg.png); border-size:1px; border-width:1px; border-style: none dotted dotted dotted; border-color:#000000;} .agenlsanta .wordcount {color:#595959; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #000000; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-21-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 A familiar scent reached the pregnant dog. She stopped in her bartering for a beautiful carved sword, and stepped away. There he was, the father of her pups. Walking through the festival, clutching a wooden case. Chess, from the looks of it. Amy waved Hadley to finish the purchase, a shock for the poor slave. She never let him handle the deals, convinced that he would screw up and unwilling to give up the feeling that it gave her. Whining he watched his master walk away, pregnant body swaying slightly as she moved through. .amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-21-2012 [html] feel free to have Amy follow him out of the crowds to irritate/shout at him ^^ Word Count → 000 The tap on his shoulder caused him to turn around, unsure of who it would be. The smell hit him first, but he ignored it brushing it off subconsciously. And then he saw Amy. His mind rushed from all the noise of the festival, people speaking, bartering, etcetera. And then she spoke, just as he was about to give his greeting. He couldn't believe it, he almost wanted to kick himself at his stupidity, but he was in public and wasn't used to making a fool of himself. 'And?' he questioned stoically, shrugging and glancing away nervously. How could he be so stupid? He didn't want a family. Maria was the only one for him and she was dead, so there was truly nothing for him here. The Spaniard didn't care about these bastard pups, they were nothing to do with him. He turned away and walked off. Angel moved away from the crowds, leaving Amy behind him. Granted he expected her to follow him to bug him, not that he wanted it in all honesty, he just wanted her to leave him alone so he could live his life like nothing happened. He stood several metres behind the outskirts of the stalls, running his hand over his face in disbelief. .agenlsanta .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .agenlsanta p {padding:2px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;} .agenlsanta b {color:#595959; letter-spacing:-.2px; } .agenlsanta {background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/RHmGD.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:450px; text-align:justify; margin:0px auto; outline:1px solid #000000; border-size:1px; border-width:1px; border-style: none solid solid solid; border-color:#595959;} .agenlsanta .inner {margin:0px 10px 360px 10px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://soulsrpg.com/images/pride/templa ... ate_bg.png); border-size:1px; border-width:1px; border-style: none dotted dotted dotted; border-color:#000000;} .agenlsanta .wordcount {color:#595959; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #000000; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-21-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Angel's reaction was the worst possible thing for him to do. Amy had been seeking some assurance, being alone except for Hadley, and she'd been tossed aside. Hadley was lousy for comfort, considering how he was a slave so a lesser being. The horse was worse even less. They had pups binding the two of them, so Amy had hoped for something. Instead he acted like a ridiculous first timer, brushing her off and looking around nervously. Her mood swung hard, shifting from nervous warmth to full out rage. He moved through the crowd before she had a chance to give him a piece of her mind, but she followed after him.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-24-2012 [html] his accent is probably getting quite thick by now so she may not understand some of what he's saying ^^ also you may want to stick an M tag on this~ Word Count → 000 As he assumed she followed him like a moth to a flame. The dark Spaniard readied himself for an argument as he heard her holler at him, perhaps he should have distanced himself further from the festivities. While he didn't know many faces around here he didn't want an unneeded reputation around Nova Scotia. He listened to every word, ear flicking furiously, the only sign of his hearing. Otherwise he faced away, refusing to meet her steely gaze. He was almost caught out by her final words, almost complimented, but this was quickly replaced by more anger. Had he been used? 'Si? Si? Is this what you want'? Me to take you home, to take care of you, to find a healer for you? To hunt, feed and fight for you? No, no! These... These...' he paused, half in horror and half in sheer anger, 'Abominacions! Will never enter the kingdom of heaven. They are bastards in the eyes of God!' He was adamant that there was no redemption for these things. There were no other words for them. Angel wasn't afraid of any violence, he was a big boy and he could take it. On the other hand he didn't know if he was the one being intimidating, after all he had been standing over her most of the time. He didn't care about her much, nor the things she carried. They were nothing to do with him, no matter what this woman said. He shook his adamantly, 'This is your fault. If you were proficient in keeping your legs close we'd be fine!' The Catalonian gazed of into the distance, still fuming. .angelonely b {font-weight:bold; color:#373737; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#000000 0px 0px 1px;} .angelonely p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .angelonely {margin:0px auto; width:500px; background-color:#b4b4b4; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/4sliJ.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px dashed #000000; padding: 3px 0px 320px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#ffffff; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify; text-shadow:#7c7c7c 0px 0px 2px;} .angelonely .wordcount {color:#373737; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #ffffff; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#000000 0px 0px 1px;} .angelonely .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-24-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 A thick accent quickly filled the air, though Amy just laughed at his words. Go home with you? Why would I ever want that? Your blood's probably too weak for the family! She stiffened with anger as he insulted the unborn pups, and worse, blamed her for what happened. Snarling she reached out, claws drawn to slap across her face. This was not her fault! Certainly she'd sought it out, but it took two to tango, and he had been more than willing.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-24-2012 [html] he's going to freak out now~ Word Count → 000 She aimed a hand towards his face, but he was fast enough to catch it and push it back to her. There was force behind it and he did not doubt that if he had not been so fast it would have carved a rather bloody path down his chest. 'I don't know?' he spat, 'If you don't need anything then go!' He didn't want these bastards in his family, they were nothing to him. Nothing he wanted at least. Somewhere deep in his mind there was a pang of guilt, a small notion that led him to want to embrace her and just pretend it was Maria. Amy reached for her dagger, but again he wasn't threatened, he'd face worse and come out with few scars, none had even been permanent. And it was something that killed him all over again just to think of it. His ears flicked around fiercely. Was she insulting his family, 'You clearly haven't set foot in Catalunya then, puta! His were a name, fishers mostly, farmers the further towards the continent you travelled. He had made a name for himself as an assassin, back home and in Argentina. He turned to leave, caring little for this fiasco. Then she crossed the line. Insulting God was something he would not, by any means, stand back and allow. Angel swung around, aiming his hand for her upper body. He didn't care for the lives she harboured, if they died, he'd be happy. .goldmount b {font-weight:bold; color:#ffc10d; letter-spacing:1px;} .goldmount p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .goldmount {margin:0px auto; width:500px; background-color:#170302; background-image:url(http://i910.photobucket.com/albums/ac30 ... 102156.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 355px 0px 3px 0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#c03410; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .goldmount .wordcount {letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #c03410; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; } .goldmount .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .goldmount p b:before { content: open-quote; } .goldmount p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-24-2012 [html] OOC Word Count → 000 He turned his back to her, and Amy's mood shifted again. She sank to the ground as he turned, ready to strike her. Tears rolled down her face. Bewildered she looked at them, desperately trying to wipe them away. The same thing with her other litters. She got emotional, irritable, and she couldn't think straight. Tears were the last thing she needed. Amy had to be strong, take care of herself. Taking a deep breath she looked up at Angel.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-24-2012 [html] small bit of pp here ^^ Word Count → 000 His hand hit the air with a slight whoosh as she fell to the ground, avoiding him strike. Angel stared down at her, the scene pulled at his heartstrings and even though it made him more irritable, it also made him slightly more considerate. She spoke and he shook his head, 'No. If they are strong they will bear your name. If they are not, you will be silent on that matter and cast them away. Send them to beings that care' he instructed. And she was right, they were here. As she growled at him, he shook his head in disbelief, 'I would have offered if you'd have waited a moment' he said, bending down and offering to lift her more securely rather than offering out his hand and letting her strain herself. As he pulled her up she felt against him, her stomach nudging his own flat, toned muscles. His constant grip faulted slightly, though not enough for Amy to fall. It was disturbing for him to have gotten that close, he was a man and like any man a woman in this state was not something he would want to deal with. But it was the reality he failed with, the proximity to his descendants was daunting. Angel set the woman straight, using a quick gesture of his index digit to clear her tears gently. 'If you are willing to comply, I'll go and get you something to eat and drink and we can sort this out. Like adults'. Whether he liked it or not this was something he needed to deal with. .angelona b {font-weight:bold; color:#214030; letter-spacing:1px; font-size:13px;} .angelona p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .angelona {margin:0px auto; width:500px; background-color:#648373; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/xs34B.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #214030; padding: 0px 0px 520px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#a3bd94; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .angelona .wordcount {color:#214030; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #a3bd94; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} .angelona .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-24-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Angel's anger evaporated a little, bringing a small smile to Amy's tear streaked face. She let him help her up, bumping against each other accidentally. The feel of his body reminded her about why she'd chosen him in the first place. He was so strong, so powerful. Maybe the pups really would be alright. Amy already couldn't wait for this to be over, sick of her emotions spilling out of control with her wild mood swings. His hand was strangely gentle as the tears were brushed away. Amy looked at him, slightly bewildered. He wanted nothing to do with the pups, yet still took care of her. If Amy had been him she would have killed the pregnant dog and moved on without a second thought.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-25-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 Rational. She could do rational. She was a trader wasn't she? He could handle rational, it was his business to keep a level head as much as it was hers. He'd killed many people without blinking or having second thoughts about it. Why was he getting do frustrated over this then? He'd be glad to just go home and relax. He led her away slowly to a tent where food was readily available. Looking he selected a large rabbit. He wasn't so hungry, used to living on the bare essentials, he'd bought the rabbit mainly for Amy, though if she didn't devour it all he'd probably pick off of it. He moved Amy over to a table and chair in a quiet corner before moving over to a bucket of water, grabbing both of the some water. Angel sat drinking his water slowly trying to thin what to say. The black Spaniard frowned, 'H...' he shook his head in disbelief, 'How long?' he asked, gesturing towards her loosely, unwilling to go anywhere near her when she was lie this. One of the man's only fear, brought on after Maria's death. Angel drank more of his water, unwilling to let his eyes meet Amy's. There was moment of silence before he spoke again.'Where are you staying? You've got someone to watch you haven't you?' he didn't necessarily care, but it was out of cursory and mild respect. They were mutually bonded over something neither of them wanted but that neither of them could do anything about. .goldmount b {font-weight:bold; color:#ffc10d; letter-spacing:1px;} .goldmount p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .goldmount {margin:0px auto; width:500px; background-color:#170302; background-image:url(http://i910.photobucket.com/albums/ac30 ... 102156.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 355px 0px 3px 0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#c03410; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .goldmount .wordcount {letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #c03410; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; } .goldmount .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .goldmount p b:before { content: open-quote; } .goldmount p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-25-2012 [html] OOC Word Count → 000 They entered a tent full of food, bringing Amy's stomach to growl in protest. Her hunger had increased, and it had made trading for food a more desperate situation. She wasn't just eating for one anymore after all. It was bad though, considering how she didn't hunt and Hadley was gone now, traded away. She'd pick up a new slave somewhere, of course, but until then she was completely on her own, nobody else to help her get food. Some water was brought over, and Amy lapped at it neatly. Being pregnant didn't mean she'd lose her manners. She was much better than that, civilized, tidy.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-26-2012 [html] OOC here! Word Count → 000 Angel drummed his fingers on the table, watching as Amy eat and drank. Aside from his trio of questions he was happy to allowed her to set the pace of the conversation if she wanted to. Though he felt his jowls lifted into a a frown as he growled slightly at her childish answer, 'How long left...' he asked steadily, not wishing to make a scene again, where there were more people. He glanced around again refusing to look at the trader woman before him. Angel turned back to her and settled his eyes on the rabbit, picking a sliver off for himself. Again, he wasn't particularly hungry but anything to concentrate himself on was worth a shot. He listened intently to her words, frowning slightly at her words. A wagon, he almost scoffed, but swallowed it before he spoke. 'You'll find me right?' he asked, finally bringing his eyes up to her own, 'When it's over...' Although he didn't want them, he still wished to see them and hear of them all the same. As Amy leaned closer, Angel eyes narrowed, 'How should I know?' he responded dully. The Spaniard wasn't sure if there had been any other pups in the litter save from himself, Menor and Tomeu. And he knew there were none in with Ana and Antoni. .agenlsanta .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .agenlsanta p {padding:2px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;} .agenlsanta b {color:#595959; letter-spacing:-.2px; } .agenlsanta {background-color:#000000; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/RHmGD.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:450px; text-align:justify; margin:0px auto; outline:1px solid #000000; border-size:1px; border-width:1px; border-style: none solid solid solid; border-color:#595959;} .agenlsanta .inner {margin:0px 10px 360px 10px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://soulsrpg.com/images/pride/templa ... ate_bg.png); border-size:1px; border-width:1px; border-style: none dotted dotted dotted; border-color:#000000;} .agenlsanta .wordcount {color:#595959; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #000000; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-27-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 She smiled slightly as she pushed at the button on Angel. It was crazy how much she liked him, considering how he was the reason she was pregnant and she couldn't mate with anyone that wouldn't give her good pups. That didn't mean she couldn't play with him though. As long as he got over this little mishap everything would be just fine. As long as Amy could control herself. She nodded her head at his question. They'll be here in a month. Not a long time, but long enough to get in the way of her life. As soon as the pups were born she'd be returning to her normal trade behavior, doing as she wished instead of constantly accommodating for what was inside her.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-28-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 5+ Angel sat in silence as the trader woman spoke, his ears flickered nervously, listening to conversations around him before revolving back to concentrate to Amy's words. As much as he wished not to here them. The tall, dark Spaniard frowned sternly. A month? That was insane. He was no where near prepared to tell his sister of the arrivals. Then again, maybe he could get away with not telling her. After all did the trader mutt not just say that her last two litters did not survive. Perhaps he would be fortunate to have them not survive and there fore he escaped telling Ana, and facing her childish wrath. He shook his head. No, he did not supposed that he could deal with any more death and he now found himself wishing for their survival. Though was far from ready to openly admit it. Especially to Amy. After all he was a fighter, an assassin, there just was not any room for children in his life. Angel supposed shipping them of to Ana would be the easy option. But who in their right mind would trust his sister with a living thing. Granted she'd done well with Maduixa, but the strawberry roan horse was a hardy, independent creature. Much akin to the wild horses he'd seen where ever he went. Of course the Criollo was more docile than those creatures too, though Angel supposed he had a fighters spirit too. The dark coated Catalan male frowned. 'Pick one out?' he sneered, perfect white canines showing as his lip hitched up in furiousness. 'You speak of them as if they were some kind of prize foal?' Angel questioned, slamming his cup down, caring little if he was making a scene now. She was talking about his children. His mental comment made his mind stop whirring around. Perhaps he actually did care for them. Or maybe it was just pride in his bloodlines speaking. He knew she was a trader, her words, her actions, her demeanour, her everything practically shouted it. And to the mongrel woman it may have just seemed a passing comment, nothing to get upset over. But it was simply just careless words on her part. Though Angel would have no idea how those words, that comment, would save him and kill him all over again in just a handful of weeks into the future. His anger settled, the flames extinguished by Amy's quite sentence. 'I'm sorry' he said, sincerely. The Spaniard reached over to rest his hand upon her own as she reached for more rabbit. 'I am sure they will be fine' he comforted. After all, he had no reason to doubt his own genetics. He just didn't know if in the past her former partners had had bad genetics or if it had been her all along. Even the best bred lines had secrets they wished to keep under the wraps. Perhaps ones no one knew anything of until it was to late. Or ever. .goldmount b {font-weight:bold; color:#ffc10d; letter-spacing:1px;} .goldmount p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .goldmount {margin:0px auto; width:500px; background-color:#170302; background-image:url(http://i910.photobucket.com/albums/ac30 ... 102156.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 355px 0px 3px 0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#c03410; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .goldmount .wordcount {letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #c03410; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; } .goldmount .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .goldmount p b:before { content: open-quote; } .goldmount p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-28-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 His upset manner was insane for Amy. If they were too weak for her to handle, of course she would give them over to whoever wanted them. It saved her from having to kill them herself, something that she'd failed at with her last litter. She was positive they were dead, as sickly as they had been, but she hadn't stuck around to watch them die herself, the small sliver of compassion left inside her recoiling at that thought. She smiled serenely as he slammed against the table. I wouldn't let you take one if they were any good. The only chance that you'd get near one was if they were too weak to survive. Their only purpose then would be providing some comfort for you.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Ángel Fàbregas i Reus - 01-28-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 3+ 'Estàs boig' he commented idly. She was insane if she thought he go along with her rulings. But he nodded along, hoping she didn't know what he had said. After all the last foreign word he had utter was universal in Catalan and Spanish, but what he said now was different. It really wouldn't matter as much as his previous comment had, after all this was a passing statement rather than an all out insult. Though he still held his own on calling her a puta. 'What makes you think I'd let you get away with that?' he asked, 'You've been to Argentina? Catalunya? If so you would know who and what I am' The Catalan male lowered his voice and leaned over the table in a casual way, still dwarfing the woman, 'You would know I would take well to that, senyoreta'. He didn't mean to come across as intimidating, though he didn't supposed this woman would be afraid because she probably new he wouldn't touch her. Because as much as a assassin he was, he was also a gentleman. A senyor de la navalla as his father had put it. A gentleman of the knife. 'You are a slave trader, si?' he asked, thinking back about the abundance of unruly youth around. 'I have a proposal for you' he said, 'I know where the masses live, I can bring them to you. You can train them as slaves and trade them on'. Angel needed nothing from this transaction, only the satisfaction of cleansing the world, 'God has already chosen me to 'tidy up' he laughed, more of a chuckle actually. 'And you profit from them'. Angel shrugged and stood, 'I believe that is all we have to discuss senyoreta...' Angel said, trailing off so that she may interject if needed. .totsunits b {font-weight:bold; color:#fefefe; letter-spacing:1px;} .totsunits p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .totsunits {margin:0px auto; width:500px; background-color:#010101; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/YDo6A.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #000000; padding: 300px 0px 3px 0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#c00304; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .totsunits .wordcount {letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #fefefe; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; } .totsunits .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .totsunits p b:before { content: open-quote; } .totsunits p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] - Amy Sunders - 01-28-2012 [html] OOC here. Word Count → 000 She raised his eyebrows as he spoke in some language she didn't understand. Probably an insult, judging by the reaction that followed, challenging her. Amy met him levelly, no fear about her. She was fearsome in her own nature as well. While no longer an active assassin, she still killed, and was highly skilled at it. She just didn't work under others, killing for her own convenience and pleasure instead. She simply took another drink of her water before setting it down. No need to be so passionate. After all, you want nothing to do with them. Amy pointed that out firmly. She at least wanted them if they were healthy. He could care less.
.amyhour b {font-weight:bold; color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 13px; margin:0px;} .amyhour {margin:0px auto; width:480px; background-color:#ac69fc; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/CeqhO.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #30383c; padding: 290px 0px 3px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#31224b; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;} .amyhour .wordcount {color:#fc8cff; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dashed #31224b; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px; text-shadow:#31224b 0px 0px 1px;} .amyhour .ooc {font-style:italic; font-size:11px;} .amyhour p b:before { content: open-quote; } .amyhour p b:after {content: close-quote; } </style>[/html] |