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Don't know if there needs to be a mature warning on this yet, but I'll add one in once we figure out what's happening! 300+ words.
Lolita Monroe still did not know what to do with herself. She had been drifting between Dahlia de Mai and the house in the city, but she still housed the empty feeling inside her. Nothing seemed able to make her smile anymore. The creamy Dahlian could not think of any purpose she served, her mere existence. It seemed so pointless, everything about her. The war had taken its toll on the lovely woman, and she was finding it difficult to pull herself out of the mood that she had fallen into. Even talking to Anselm about it, which had helped briefly, had lost its affect on her, and Lolita was back where she had begun. She felt alone, and though she would not admit it, she was afraid of the loneliness that continued to plague her. Would she ever be able to lose that tugging feeling?
The creamy-colored woman was lounging on the bed in one of the bedrooms of the house in the city. The scent marks needed renewing, but she thought they were probably still fairly effective. The scent of her smoke clung to everything in the house and it seemed almost like a cloud hung around it, but she knew that was just in her mind. The smell was simply incredibly heavy around the house, noticable to anyone that would pass by. Her faded leather bag sat in the corner of the roolm, but she made no move to get it. Truthfully, Lolita looked rather dead where she was lying. Of course, she was always dead, but her body was draped dramatically over the red-blanketed bed, flamboyant red hair fanned around her delicate, petite face. It was early in the day, the sun barely risen, and she would go back to Dahlia de Mai soon, she was guessing.
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ooc: slow reply! :I i liiiive.
WC: 396
Dawn had brought with it strange complications. The boy - well, if one would deign to call him that, though young man now suited the youth far better - had risen well before the sun, determined in his efforts to continue his exploration of this strange and formidable land. Hark, the wind through these strange buildings! Never had the sound drawn his ears before, but the slate and ivory youth could not resist the drag of the city, its corporeal lattice of hovels and the scraping fingers of brick and concrete corpses. But of late, his childish manners had been curbed, thanks no less to a certain ruby-eyes damsel and her sword. But he lived, and he continued to live, and the place was a magnet that drew at his very being.
So Caillen wandered the dusty streets, his owlish sky-blue eyes drinking in the looming figures, the chemical scents and the sharp man-made angles that were reflected no where else in the wilderness. True, he'd seen many houses and buildings, but this! This was apocalyptic glory at it's best.
It was a scent that made him stop. Complication one. The scent, although faded, was far stronger than any other he'd encountered - and it was of his own kind, no less! As he loitered about the building it claimed, the youth gazed up at the gaping eye-holes of windows, but saw no movement. To enter, or not to enter? Complication two. Well, there was no option but to enter, really - What young traveler could resist curiosity? He was no cat, and he'd already lived through one dangerous encounter on this trip. Surely, nothing worse could befall him within these cold walls. Caillen leaned his wooden staff against the door and entered hesitantly, the mottled grey and charcoal scarf about his neck pulled tighter so as to give his absent hands something to do.
Inside, the scent was stronger. He followed it, doggedly, to a closed door, and stood with deflated excitement on the other side of it. The door was mockingly silent. Open me! Open me! You know you waaaant toooo... With an absent shrug, large and calloused hand closed over the doorknob, pushing it open with a gentle click.
Complication three. There was a dead woman on the bed.
"Oh, god... Oh GOD." What the hell was he supposed to do now?!
Speak think walk
Table © James, courtesy of Hannah
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Sorry for my delay, now. xD WotD: Fathom. 300+ words.
Everything was different for the dead woman compared to how things were for the living. There would always be a rift between Lolita and the land of the living, despite the fact that she was bound to it for eternity. Though she had considered trying to find a way to remove her body from the world, Lolita could not fathom how that would be any better for her. Really, she saw no way to make things easier for her, so she had resigned herself to existing in the way that she had for well over a year now. Even though being dead was a serious downer, too, the Monroe woman had grown accustomed to her existence. It certainly was nto as difficult as it used to be, though there were still serious periods of pain. She was in one now.
The scent of the stranger was picked up immediately, coming closer to where she lay. She did not know if she wanted company, and generally, she was incredibly protective of the city house. Since the time she had claimed it, she had been the only one inside. Lolita had entertained company on the front porch, but she had not entertained anyone inside, and she had never intended to. As the intruder came closer to the bedroom though, Lolita did not move. Oversized shepherd ears twitched as the small click fo the door knob reached her, but she did not move to look at who was entering the room. Maybe they would see her and quickly run away.
Lolita sighed inaudibly. "Do you make it a habit of wandering into someone's house and yelling?" she asked with a smirk and a small chuckle, her body remaining still. It was likely she would startle him, since her presence had already seemed to alarm him. Maybe he could tell that she was one of the dead—that would be an incredibly bizarre change.
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ooc: lol, no problem XD sorry for Cai's stupidity, in advance :3
WC: 345
In the midst of his astounding peril and confusion, something bizarre happened. The woman, who before had been lying statue-still in a pose best outlined by murder victims, now spoke. Biting back what indubitably would have been a far-too-shrill-to-sound-manly scream, Caillen nonetheless redoubled, slamming the door shut with a resounding CRASH.
Thusly shaken, he stood for a moment on the other side, listening to the rattling of unnerved air expand his lungs, the quick thumping of his heart. Okay, so dead woman appeared, rather liberally, to be not-so-dead. He could deal with that. Very bluntly, as if to move too slowly would hasten his nerves to flee once more, the slate and tan youth pushed the creaky door open once more. The woman remained where she had been last, and now that the terror had faded, the young man was gracious enough to feel guilty and shamed.
" Oh, I... Er... I'm sorry, I just thought..." I just thought you'd been brutally killed, that's all. Now that he was aware of her life-presence within the room, his shame turned quickly to curiosity, albeit tinged still with the hesitant wariness encumberment of a sudden shock. Peering at the downed lady, his sky-blue eyes noted the lackluster of her pelt, the pale phantomness of her coloring. And of course, that shock of vibrant blood-red hair had not helped to ease his qualms! Swallowing hastily, the polite fellow (for he'd been brought up with strict manners, and as such they came to him as a second nature) bowed daftly, and remained on the other side of the door's thresh-hold. It was not seemly to enter a lady's bedroom uninvited, regardless of her mysterious disposition.
Perhaps it was his curiosity that kept him standing there, rather than offering all manner of apologies and fleeing from whence he came, or perhaps it was the fact that something about this woman was intriguing right down to the bone; Regardless, Caillen remained where he stood, shuffling his weight from footpaw to footpaw uneasily.
" Are you... Are you alright, miss?"
Speak think walk
Table © James, courtesy of Hannah
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I SUCK. xD; Cai's cute. ♥ WotD: Macabre!
Lolita Monroe knew that her appearance could sometimes appear to be a macabre sight, especially when she was sprawled so dramatically, the fiery hair fanned out behind her pale face like a thick puddle of blood. She exhaled deeply, sighing with obvious annoyance as he quickly backed out of the room. So he entered, yelled, and backed out quickly. How very interesting of him, whoever he was. The creamy Dahlian's eyes had once again fallen closed in his short absence, and she snapped them open in surprise when he opened the door again. She had thought he was gone for good, but apparently not. Lolita propped herself up on her elbows to study him, jade eyes settling on the strangely colored boy.
His scent was familiar, a disgustingly similar scent to the one that her uncle bore. That meant that this boy was a member of the mutt pack, Cour des Miracles, though she did not think that made the boy bad. She would not hate everyone in the pack just because her uncle had taken up residence there, though she could not understand why they'd want a murderer like him in their pack. If it didn't bother them, though, or they didn't know... Well, there was nothing for her to do or say about that. The pack would probably value their own leader moreso than they would the words of a random dead woman with a burning desire for revenge.
Her eyes refocused, an almost sad appearance to them. "No," she admitted quietly, "I'm not."
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ooc: NUH UH <3 oh, he wishes! :I
WC: 268
In honesty, Caillen had no idea what to expect from the un-deceased woman. There was nothing predictable about his world anymore, save for his own ability to somehow screw it all up. As such, the youth was constantly uncertain, his sky-blue eyes innocently wide and appealing, his ivory hand, though large and calloused from a mixture of manual labour and childish havoc, twisting nervously in the pleats of his scarf. His question hung in the air for a moment; The woman propped herself up on one elbow to survey him, her brilliant lime-green eyes making his insides shiver warily.
When she answered, the tone of her voice surprised him. So much sadness! For one of his age, Caillen had learned surprisingly little of the harshness of this existence, the trials and temptations that could pillage at one's happiness until there was nothing left to plunder. He knew of seduction - the woman in the forest, with her sensual body and her promising ruby eyes - and he knew of deceit - the twist of cold metal in her hand, the glint of murder in her smile. But Caillen didn't know betrayal, and he didn't know true sorrow, although it seemed to surround him as of late.
For a moment, the young man seemed at a loss. He didn't know how to respond, although the decency within his golden heart claimed that he should say something, do something, to offer the pale beauty some sort of sympathy.
" Is... Is there a-a-anything I can do?"
He took a wary step forward, letting one footpaw cross the door's threshold.
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Table © James, courtesy of Hannah
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pffft, he is. ♥ 300+ words.
Nothing in her life had ever been fair, but she had spent the majority of her life trying not to complain. Being dead was a drag, but it wasn't as if she could ever reclaim life. Therefore, there was hardly any point in whining about the condition she suffered. But Lolita was lonely, and she could hardly ever find company anymore. Dull eyes, once so beautiful and bright, settled on the boy—no, young man. He was not quite a boy anymore. His exact age was unknown to her, and while she could tell he was younger than her, she could see that he was no longer a puppy. For a young one, he was kind of cute... And never before had a young age stopped Lolita. It wasn't that she was interested in children or anything creepy. In her mind, she would never age past eleven months, so she was a mere young one, as well. Mentally, she was infinitely older.
He stepped forward into the room, crossing the boundary that had separated them initially. A small smile curved over her muzzle at his question. Was there anything that anyone could do? Not to fix it, no, but he was sweet to offer. All that anyone could do was try to take her mind away from everything that plagued her, if only for a short while. "I'm not sure, but why don't you come in here and perhaps distract me a bit?" she purred, tail brushing the bed beneath her gently. Lolita did not know anything of his encounters with females before—specifically, she did not know anything about what Halo had done to him—but if she had, she would have surely promised him to not do the same. Lolita did not draw someone in and then hurt them. She never had and never would.
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ooc: he's such and idiot, seriously :I
WC: 338
For a moment, the woman on the bed simply observed him. Her lime eyes made his insides shiver uncomfortably, deep down inside, but Caillen sensed no malice coming from her slender form. In repose, the not-dead woman was still lovely, but there was something about her - Some sort of omnipotent presence - that made her loveliness as much a deterrent as it was an attraction. Perhaps it was simply his innocent wariness of the opposite gender, though.
In all things, Caillen was a virgin. His naivety knew no bounds, his curiosity no checks, his flagrant gullibility no end. But Caillen did know right from wrong, and it was wrong to disobey his elders, and it was wrong to disrespect women. How, therefor, could he refuse her request? If request indeed it was, for more so was Caillen but the puppet to his own manners, and as such, it could very well have been a command.
Uncertain as to what form of distraction she would like him to present, the man-child hovered a moment longer, before nodding meekly. He had not at all inherited his mother's tenacity; the youth simply forgot his previous errand in lieu of this new interaction, this new chance to learn something his questing dreamer's brain would long to learn. After shutting the door neatly (and rather silently, this time), the slate youth stood awkwardly, waiting fro some further direction as to what she would have him do. Caillen was indeed a biddable creature, and it helped that the lady held an aura of importance about her form, an unsettling air of mental unbalance that made his skin prickle and his curiosity flare.
He wanted to know, first and foremost, who had seemingly murdered her on the bed. Had it been her own boredom who had cast her down like that? Maybe trials with an ex lover had left her so listless! The boy-at-heart took another step closer to the bed, his sky-blue eyes owlishly wide and lit with the sun of another world.
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Table © James, courtesy of Hannah
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But he's cute! =D
Jade eyes followed his every move, noting the gentleness with which he shut the door behind him this time, so drastically different than when he had thought she was murdered on the bed. Then, it had been with a frightened hastiness that the door was slammed. Now, it was shut with a quiet care. This was much more fitting for the boy, she decided. A tender personality seemed to suit him. She watched as he came closer to the bed still, the awkwardness nearly tangible in the air. Lolita would have laughed if she were not feeling so miserable, it was just that amusing.
She moved then, propping herself lackadaiscally against the pillows. She patted the bed next to her half-heartedly. "Sit," she instructed softly. If he was going to distract her, he was going to need to do a much better job than simply sitting there. "What is your name?" she practically purred. He hadn't said, considering he had acted so frantically upon first finding her.
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ooc: nae=no ken=know blah blah :3
WC: 330
If the beautiful woman's countenance had changed in his presence, then it was hard to decipher, except for perhaps the curious and unearthly lighting of her mineral lime eyes. The intensity of their stare made the youth's insides jitter anxiously, his ears sliding down meekly. Although polite, the Winters boy was not of a timid nature, more of a vague and dreaming sort. Kind-hearted but innocent, pleasant to the eye but an empty vessel.
When the woman moved abruptly, he twitched in slight shock, hovering still near the doorway as if to escape at a sudden fracture in the communication between them, as if he were a rabbit and she the hungry serpent waiting in it's hidden lair. However, when slender palm patted the plush surface aside her, and melodically hypnotic tones offered a gentle command, Caillen found his boneless body drifting forward on it's own accord. It was as if her presence was a strange poison, stirring thick in his blood, and he was the simple moth darting too near to the flame. Her blood-red hair shimmered alluringly in the half-light.
The boy relented, perching stiffly on the edge of her bed, alone in her chamber with only this goddess to warm the room. Innocent owl-eyes watched her, their blue depths deep and shallow simultaneously. Her question broke the silence again, and the boy swallowed hastily, begetting instantly that he's forgotten such manners so as to even introduce himself! Mama would be displeased; If he was to be a man, he should remember such niceties on his own. And, more so, he should not be intimidated by the beguiling undead! Filled with a false bravado, the Merle-pelted youth smiled brightly, the twin-sapphires of his eyes focusing on a point beyond her bare body.
"I am Caillen, Miss. Caillen W-W-Winters. I do nae... I do nae ken your name either, miss?" His body vibrated, for being so close to hers. Was it terror, or delight? The youth could not tell.
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Table © James, courtesy of Hannah
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It was obvious that the Miracles boy was one of very few words, seemingly lost in his own world behind the bright blue eyes. She was curious to know what was going on in his mind, wanted to know what he was thinking of her and her strangeness. He crossed the room to sit beside her, though he still seemed far from comfortable. Caillen. She silently considered the name, one she had not heard before. Some names were very common; others were much more rare. She assumed that this was a less common one, or she would have heard it sometime during her travels. "I am Lolita Monroe," she answered, her voice silky and smooth, deep as it always was.
She reached out her hand to rest it gently on his leg and to run her fingers lightly over the fur of his thigh, if he did not jump away immediately at the touch. "You are nervous," she observed. "Do I... make you nervous?" The question was accompanied by a small pout as Lolita pretended to be hurt by the notion, put on for show of course. Lolita had a tendency to make others nervous, especially men. She liked to flirt and touch, and that brought out primal urges where society had begun to form, and this made men—and sometimes women, too—sweat.
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ooc:
WC: 300+
He felt her presence like a flame at his side, crackling and drawing in the moths to burn. Was he a moth? The youth shivered slightly, his skyblue eyes sliding to stare pointedly at his oversized feet. He wondered, briefly, if she could see the blush that stained his cheeks through the layer of silken ivory fur. Her voice caught his attention and, respectfully (albeit warily), the manchild tilted his head to peer across at her, an innocent smile revealing a ginger flash of sharp ivory incisors. For all of his childlish wit, the boy was equipped with the body of a potential killer - his size, his teeth - but any viciousness was to Caillen as fire was to water - Entirely incomprehensible, and not one inch of his nature. A strange and baffling mix of genetics, was the wolfdog.
"N-nice tae meet you, miss Lolita." And for a moment, his smile was genuinely sunny, for he did so love to meet new people. Each one brought him a different learning experience, added something unique to his personality like a bracelet collecting beads. For a moment, his mind reflected on the last individual he had met - The ruby-eyed temptress, with her curved body and her flashing twin blades. The thought made his body shiver slightly, as if remembering the fear.
Caillen's wandering mind was abruptly pulled back by the sensation of fingers, gently toying with the fur of his thigh. Like a nervous colt the boy's eyes widened, their owlish depths fixing on the blood-haired woman and her chemical lime gaze. In the back of his mind, Caillen got the sinking suspicion that he was about to become a moth, but the conscious thought was never born forth. Lolita's claws tickled the skin beneath the fur on his leg, but the feeling was not unpleasant, and he did not flee. Her statement, accompanied by the pout, made the youth immediately contrite. Had he been rude? Gosh he didn't want to offend her! Instantly wishing to please, Caillen shook his head childishly, those skyblue eyes remained fixed on her.
"N-n-no, miss Lolita..." But he was a terrible liar, and so, "... Maybe just a l-little."
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Table © James, courtesy of Hannah
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