LiVE.WiRE - 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: LiVE.WiRE (/showthread.php?tid=5376) |
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- Asariel - 03-19-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 03-24-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
(: What a lovely afternoon. Once again, the Québécois was keeping himself well occupied by effectuating small chores around the house. There was something about having a cottage of his own that made him appreciate manual labor, amazingly enough. This was a hidden side of his personality that’d never surfaced up until now. Honoré planned on making his cabin the best looking one in all of Phoenix Valley. So what if the place looked decrepit? That meant he'd have to work twice as hard to reach his objective; it certainly would keep boredom at bay. Bluebirds were roaming around the few visible tufts of grass, providing beautiful chirping sounds to accompany the alabaster male’s whistling. He was sitting at the picnic table in his backyard, the exact same place where he’d met one of his pack mates a few nights ago: Geneva. This time, however, he was busy painting the little birdhouse he’d crafted the day before. It was big enough for two or three fully grown birds, he assumed. Honoré didn’t know much about the little fellas and their living arrangements but if they needed a bigger birdhouse, he would have no problem building another one for them. Upon realizing that he’d forgotten the green colored paint inside his cabin, Honoré reluctantly abandoned his task at hand. He was about to walk through his front door when he caught glimpse of a wolfess sitting a few yards away. She was grimacing and distorting her face in ways that clearly mirrored her disgust for something. Clearing his throat, the arctic wolf took a few steps forward and called out to her. “Hey, toé là, everything okay?” he questioned, grey-tipped ears flicked forward. - Asariel - 03-25-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 03-25-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> It seemed the female’s grimace was only temporary. It only took a split second for her demeanor to change completely. Now she was smiling. If only everyone could be so easily cheered up, the world would be a better place. Honoré returned her greeting with a “Hello” of his own. But as he listened to her explanation, he couldn’t help but frown. It was hard to understand how a person could simply associate one color, white for example, to a specific thing. She was right in thinking that white was the color of snow, but for her to dislike the pearly pigmentation for that reason was a little far-fetched. If anything, he felt a little insulted. Honoré looked down at his own pelt, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious. He was white too, was he not? Did she dislike him too? Oh my god, she probably was one of those racist people! The Québécois took a step back, unsure of how to deal with the judgmental girl. When she unexpectedly moved closer, the Loas felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What was she doing? Chestnut-colored eyes watched her approaching hand suspiciously, attempting to decipher her true intentions behind the seemingly harmless act of politeness. She introduced herself as Asariel and instead of returning the favor by offering her his name in exchange; it was his turn to make a grimace. He wasn’t about to shake the hand of such a narrow-minded lady! “No. No hand shaking! You hate white people like me and then you want I be nice, eh? No way. Racist!” - Asariel - 03-25-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 03-26-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Poor Asariel. D: The Loas did exactly what the offended female had ordered him to do. Oh, he was looking at her alright! Not only did he watch her, but he literally stared her down. His eyes were wide, unblinking, resembling two round pebbles. Their squabble had rapidly turned into a game for him. While a part of him still believed that she was prejudiced against white wolves, he also realized that she hadn’t meant to offend him with her comment. But now she was all up in his face, growling as if doing so would make a difference. When she got close enough, Honoré feigned a gag. “Urgh. Racist girl has bad breath too.” She didn’t. If anything, she smelled quite lovely. But that wasn’t important. He could be a royal pain in the ass and poor Asariel was about to realize it. The alabaster male took a step back, bringing his right hand up to pinch his nose, just because commenting on her (not so) bad breath wasn’t enough. Every single word that passed her lips went through one ear and right out the other, until she got to the part where she claimed that she really did like white pelts. “So now you think I’m sexy, eh?” he questioned, giving himself a look over. He looked quite pleased with what he saw. Not bad, not bad at all! - Asariel - 03-26-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 03-27-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Honoré felt a wave of satisfaction engulf his mind and ego when the female took a few steps back. The roles had been reversed now; it was his turn to smile. And boy did he smile! It was easy to see how his comment had affected her. Hell, it was probably driving her nuts. He was starting to like this pack mate of his. Manipulating her was so easy; this was entertainment at its finest. He would eventually reassure her and drop his little act, but not yet. No, right now he was having fun. So what if it was at someone else’s expense? It wasn’t wrong if he had every intention of rectifying things before they parted. His confident smile did not falter; Asariel could huff and puff all she wanted. Obviously, his attitude wasn’t so bad. She could’ve walked away at any given time, it’s not like he would’ve tried to stop her anyway. But she didn’t. Her next comment, however, was completely unexpected. “What was that?” he questioned, leaning toward the girl’s general direction. “Of course you didn’t! Or that would make you, ma chouette, a liar and a racist!” he said, his tone of voice serious. His eyes, however, betrayed his fake sternness. The Loas paused a moment before heading inside his cabin and coming back out moments later with a can of green paint in his right hand. He then vaguely motioned for her to follow him before making his way toward the picnic table where he’d been painting the birdhouse, “Coming? I go paint myself green so you like me better,” he joked, his French accent piercing through his witty comment. - Asariel - 03-27-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 03-31-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Her hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed. But she followed nonetheless and her compliance alone was another small victory for the Québécois. “See? I knew you liked me,” he teased, unable to control his rather peculiar sense of humor. There was something about Asariel’s demeanor that was unbelievably cute. Maybe it was aura of innocence around her. Or maybe, just maybe, it had to do with how naïve she appeared to be. Whatever it was, it was adorable. When she questioned his motives, Honoré quirked a brow and shot her a look. Obviously, she didn’t believe a single word he’d said about painting himself green. He pondered actually applying the green-colored liquid to his pelt until he realized that it would ruin his silky fur, and he certainly didn’t want that happen. Still, he ignored her first inquiry. No need to explain something she was about to see. It didn’t take long for another question to reach his ears though. That one he judged worthy of an answer. “Honoré,” he paused before adding the following. “But you can call me sexy if you want.” He chuckled, obviously amused with himself. He wasn’t normally this full of himself, it was a phase. Maybe it had to do with all the sugary goodness he’d eaten recently. He had a little too much energy bottled up within him. He eventually reached the picnic table where the half-painted birdhouse awaited. Taking a seat, Honoré promptly got to work. He wasn’t a Picasso or anything, but the way he applied and treated the colors demonstrated his passion for art. Perhaps Asariel would get to see the softer side of him after all. “You like?” he questioned, eager to see if they shared the same interests. - Asariel - 04-02-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 04-06-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
No worries :3 An energetic nod was issued when Asariel gave his name a try. She mimicked the pronunciation almost perfectly, which was a little surprising in itself. She had a slight accent of course, but that was to be expected. What he hadn’t foreseen was her next comment. Honoré did a double take when the word “sexy” escaped the tan female’s maw. Well well, little Miss Asariel sure was full of surprises. It seemed she had a sense of humor of her own, unless she truly meant her remark. Another possibility. After all, the Québécois truly was a handsome man. Or so he liked to think. He refrained from replying to her comment though; for once, the male couldn’t find a witty comment to throw her way. Her true intentions mattered little at this point. It was only when his pack mate voiced her appreciation for the miniature house that Honoré looked up and sought her gaze. He hadn’t really taken the time to do so before; merely because he hadn’t been all that intrigued. But now that she seemed to actually show interest in one of his hobbies, he saw her in a different light. Her silence brought a smile to his lips. Odd, he’d initially classified her as a “cute girl with a big mouth”. But she didn’t seem to fit that description anymore. Had she run out of things to say? “Euh, so, what else you like?” That would get her talking again. - Asariel - 04-06-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 04-09-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Honoré could’ve continued egging her on for being a racist, but he didn’t. When she stated how she liked white wolves, he shot her an amused look. So she did have a sense of humor after all. Whoever said first impressions lasted a lifetime was most obviously wrong. This girl was quickly growing on him, despite their initial disagreement. When she mentioned how she liked birds, his smile widened. At least someone shared his appreciation for the little feathered creatures. It was a shame that painting wasn’t her forte though, despite her obvious interest in art. Had she even tried her hand at painting before? He blinked, wondering if Asariel was simply too scared to give it a try. “Everyone is an artist,” he stated firmly, positive that his pack mate had some talent. Glancing down at the birdhouse, he carefully examined the work he’d done. Most of the background color had been applied, but Asariel could always help with the details and add her own personal touch. Honoré took a clean paintbrush and handed it to her, hoping she wouldn’t shy away from his invitation. ”Take,” he said, a hint of urgency in his voice. He then started tracing different patterns on the miniature house, doing so very slowly so that Asariel could learn and mimic his movements. - Asariel - 04-11-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 04-14-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Honoré exhaled harshly; providing a loud snort to express his disagreement. Damn women and their insecurities! What the heck was she afraid of? He was about to ask when she seemingly read his mind and gave him an answer. The Québécois then shook his head, a little put off by the girl’s lack of confidence. “You not ruin it,” he reassured her, which was something he normally wouldn’t do. He watched her mimic his every movement with great interest. Asariel was doing extremely well for someone who’d never touched a paintbrush before. Something in the way she held the brush irked him, though. She held the instrument a little too tightly and it showed in her work. So he stood up and moved around the picnic table, joining the cream-colored femme on the other side. “Wait,” he said, adopting a sitting position beside his new apprentice. The Frenchman did not take the brush away from her; instead he simply put his hand over hers. His goal was to provide some form of guidance. So he corrected her movements, making them a little more fluent. “Like this, tu comprends?” - Asariel - 04-16-2009 [html]
[/html] - Honoré Bélanger - 04-24-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Aw, looks like these two were meant to get along after all. His pupil was a little more comfortable now and her small burst of confidence pleased him greatly. Asariel was actually quite good at painting; it was hard to believe that she’d never tried it before. Of course, the Québécois liked to think that his awesome teaching skills were what made her so good at it. He hadn’t really done much to help her, aside from giving her a small demonstration and telling her to loosen up. But thinking that he had something to do with it made him feel important. Honoré did not feel the need to boast about it though, which was completely unlike him. Now that he’d taken the time to know the girl, showing off did not seem necessary. It was a pleasant feeling. Asariel understood his explanations perfectly. And as she glanced up, silently seeking approval, Honoré allowed a proud smile to spread from one ear to the other. His so-called racist pack mate was good company. “Very good,” he said with a slow nod. He patiently waited for the girl to finish her work before grabbing another paintbrush and writing something on the side of the bird house. As he did this, the Québécois wondered if his student could read. He hoped so. Honoré gingerly turned the miniature house in a different angle, allowing the girl to see what he’d written. The name “Asariel” now adorned their masterpiece. “Nice, eh?” - Asariel - 05-03-2009 [html]
- Honoré Bélanger - 05-08-2009 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/ ... annerx.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> Fade to black? :3 We can have a more recent one soon, if you want! I'll ask for this thread to be archived. Asariel seemed to appreciate the gesture. The expression on her face did not correspond to her playful tone of voice, which told Honoré that she was only kidding. Her words made him smile, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he replied. “Can’t let them think it’s me who did crap paint job, yah? It would ruin my reputation.” The Québécois truly believed he had a reputation to withhold when in reality, he didn’t. He knew three people, at most! The rest of the world was oblivious to his existence. Honoré tentatively touched the birdhouse with one of his fingers. It seemed dry enough. He took the masterpiece with both of his hands and walked over to a nearby tree. A ladder was already there; the plan was simple. He had to climb up those steps without falling off. It was a pretty hard thing to do, considering the fact that he couldn’t let go of the little house. Asking for help would’ve made too much sense, of course. He was awesome. And awesome men simply did not ask for assistance. After struggling with his task at hand for several minutes, Honoré successfully reached the top. Within minutes, their little house was secured to the strongest-looking branch. His face beamed with pride as he turned around to give Asariel two thumbs up. Little did he know, green paint was all over the palm of his hands. |