10-27-2010, 11:39 PM
[html]what i wanna know is why you keep me hanging [/html]
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Belial the worthless—his name held a remote significance that reminded him of why he was alone. He could touch the brand on his body even if he abandoned his name, unable to forget. Even his eyes—his father’s—told a story that Valentine did not often repeat aloud to others. He’d prefer to be the vague stranger with a sleepy half smile just passing through. If he stayed too long then the mask would break apart, revealing too much of his nature, and he’d have to flee anyway. It was unconscious in a way, unable to stand being known rather than some enigmatic creation of his own design. If he stayed for a time he would do his best to pay his way, unable to stand simply existing and taking up space without contributing anything to the pack that housed him, if only temporarily. He wasn’t particularly skilled, but he would offer whatever that he could.
Dahlia de Mai was this violet-eyed man’s home, and he repeated the name silently within his head, attempting to remember it. “Sounds lovely,” he replied, voice practically a purr. Kindness kept cruelty at bay, and this creature fascinated him in some manner. Valentine could have been wicked—and perhaps he’d be perfectly entitled to such a nature—but he refused. An eye for an eye leads to more blindness and all of that, he’d remind himself in some halfway sarcastic manner. “See somethin’ new e’ery day,” he replied, that dull smile never completely fading.
Belial the worthless—his name held a remote significance that reminded him of why he was alone. He could touch the brand on his body even if he abandoned his name, unable to forget. Even his eyes—his father’s—told a story that Valentine did not often repeat aloud to others. He’d prefer to be the vague stranger with a sleepy half smile just passing through. If he stayed too long then the mask would break apart, revealing too much of his nature, and he’d have to flee anyway. It was unconscious in a way, unable to stand being known rather than some enigmatic creation of his own design. If he stayed for a time he would do his best to pay his way, unable to stand simply existing and taking up space without contributing anything to the pack that housed him, if only temporarily. He wasn’t particularly skilled, but he would offer whatever that he could.
Dahlia de Mai was this violet-eyed man’s home, and he repeated the name silently within his head, attempting to remember it. “Sounds lovely,” he replied, voice practically a purr. Kindness kept cruelty at bay, and this creature fascinated him in some manner. Valentine could have been wicked—and perhaps he’d be perfectly entitled to such a nature—but he refused. An eye for an eye leads to more blindness and all of that, he’d remind himself in some halfway sarcastic manner. “See somethin’ new e’ery day,” he replied, that dull smile never completely fading.