Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: The Cedar Witch on November 28, 2008, 11:41:20 AM
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continued from here (http://www.roleplaycity.com/forums/showthread.php?p=67917)
The snow was coming down quicker now, with larger flakes that looked more like pieces of cloud then snow. Despite the slick roads, Pierre maintained the same speed -- which was still too fast for her to sit comfortably. Storm could almost feel them slipping on the ice, getting into a car accident, or something else that would leave him unscathed and her safety compromised. Not to mention, a very angry and concerned someone back at the apartment. Yet despite the speed of the vehicle, it seemed to take them forever to reach their destination, the silence drawing it out more along with the steady \'open, close, open, close\' of her cell phone. She stole a few secret glances at vampire along the way, even though he wasn\'t the only thing on her mind that night--for once. Even if he was...well... Pierre.
After what seemed like forever, the car stopped neatly and without accident in front of the Capital Building. A sigh of relief escaped her lips and Storm turned to smile at Pierre before stepping out of the car. No, she wasn\'t in any kind of rush to get back inside. Not even as she slipped on the pavement in her mad rush to the doors. No, she wasn\'t in a rush at all. It was the shower. The snow accumulating in her hair was making her cold, never mind the soaked clothing. Even the lobby of the Capital Building couldn\'t defrost the snow in her hair. Then again, she could have been walking to the elevator too fast for the warmth to reach her.
The ride in the elevator was even more painful then the car ride, her anxiety like some sort of electricity and her close proximity to Pierre not even crossing her mind. She didn\'t even know what exactly was on her mind anymore. But the elevator doors were opening soon enough, and she stepped through before they had even fully opened, as if she was afraid that they would close on her before she got the chance to exit. And it was here that she forced herself to slow down, reluctant to look so desperate in front of splendid company. From Pierre\'s perspective, it must have seemed like she was dying to get away from him. Which was most certainly not the case.
There were still snowflakes in the girl\'s hair as she reached the door to Damien\'s apartment. Her cheeks were still bright red and that same smile was still on her face. Storm turned to face Pierre again, brilliant blue eyes shining with appreciation. "Thanks. This was the most fun I\'ve had in awhile." she gave him another quick, friendly hug before pulling away.
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Incessant ticking. His eyes followed the tiniest hand around the white face on the wall for the billionth time. He said 3:36. The ticking hand told the vampire 3:34:49. They weren\'t even in the building yet, the two familiar auras unmingled with the auras of the tenants of the building. 3:35:15.
Calm the fuck down, he thought, avoiding the clock again. God. What the hell is wrong with me? Worry kept swallowing him. Guilt over keeping her in the apartment so long pushed and Damien just felt like a complete mess. Tensely, he sat on the loveseat listening to the ticking of the clock in the kitchen where Storm\'s drawings renewed themselves every so often. He could relax his body, but not his thoughts.
Not until the ding of the elevator sounded did he fly into action, pressing the button on the television to make it appear as if he were actually doing something of value. Damien straightened out his clothes and reached the handle at 3:36:33.
He pulled it open just in time to see the two separate and Pierre\'s eyes land on his. Damien cast his fledgling a look quicker than Storm could have ever seen with a fake expression on his face. "Tu es en retard, Jean-Luc." The elder vampire had his back to the entering pair as his face flooded with an unexplained, but brief anger. "By all means, come in." And he returned to his seat on the loveseat, supressing his burst of mixed emotions at seeing the expression in the girl\'s eyes. "So how did it go? Pierre, tu reste?"
"Ouais, mais er..." and he threw a glance over at Storm and grinned. "Je sortirai bientôt, my lord."
"Pierre," Damien said warningly, eyeing down the younger vampire as he glistened with water droplets. Ace was fearful of any glance he might give to Storm with him in the room so his eyes remained calmly on his, waiting for some kind of response. "L\'arrete."
"Ouais, je sais, je sais. Donc! I guess I\'ll catch up with you guys later then, huh? I gotta go back out and see what certain friends are up to. Keep an eye on Nikolai, of course. Bonne soirée, Monsieur et... mademoiselle."
"Pierre!" But the vampire had given Storm a hug and taken his leave before Damien could grab something to throw at him. Too bad it was impossible to hate his fledgling. Damien sighed and turned his guarded attention towards Storm, keeping his face still as thoughts rushed around.
"So," he said finally, tenting his fingers as he sat, a feeling of awkwardness filling the air between them. "How was your night?"
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The opening door startled her, causing the girl to back up quicker then would have been expected. And that of course made her look moderately suspicious even if she wasn\'t doing anything wrong. Her face even looked guilty, blushing crimson as if she had been caught in the act of something more serious. To say she was surprised with the feelings Damien was emitting could have been an understatement. And it was perplexing how he struggled to hide it. Something like chaos in a bottle, but she didn\'t push to figure him out. Besides, she didn\'t want to ruin her mood with making him angry.
The French that went back and fourth was something that she should have been used to by now. But it still had that same effect on her as it had the first time she heard Pierre speak it. Her eyes flickered between the two men, watching their mouths move more then anything, and simply enjoying the luxurious sound flow into her ears. The Akari was dying to know what they were saying, whether or not Damien was angry with her already. She had only just stepped in the door, for god\'s sake!
Again, another wave of crimson at Pierre\'s goodbye, and she shifted her gaze to the floor. The door clicked shut and Storm was still blushing, smiling, and finding the blank wall of the living room far more interesting then \'facing the music\'. Not that he was really questioning her that much. There was a long pause before she looked up at Damien, an almost painful expression on her face as she struggled against her flustered embarrassment.
"It was a lot of fun." Storm said simply, shifting her eyes again as she lowered herself onto the couch across from him.
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He swallowed behind a masked exterior. He was getting more and more frustrated with himself as the moments progressed. Too many thoughts, too many opinions revolving back and forth, making him angrier and angrier. The vampire sighed again, trying to hide the frustration. There had to be something wrong with him. There had to be. No normal person would entertain thoughts that he had been having lately.
It had been about four months since they had first met that rainy day in the fall upon on the cliffs. Four months of ever-changing thoughts. Four months of lingering memories blending with the problems of new existences. Four months of adjusting to what it was like to live with another person, another woman, again. So it was a constant thing for Damien to ignore the constant thoughts of the differences and similarities between one woman and the other.
It was becoming easier for Damien to accept Storm as "part of the family". They could speak now, maintain a distance and still laugh at each other. And as pleasant of a thought as it was, there was still something in him that wanted the past. The closeness and intamacy of having a wife and confidante. He even feared that there would always be a side to him that held blindly onto Isabella that he ignored anything else.
The vampire watched her, the expression in his eyes thoughtful now and relieved. "Is he as big of a jerk to you as he is to me?" A strained smile. "So, what did you do? Anything noteable?"
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The snowflakes had defrosted by now, and the girl shivered, settling into the chair while rubbing her arms for warmth. Her hair was only beginning to dry, stringy and messy. But she felt comfortable around him to not care so much. Besides, it\'s not like he really cared, right?
"He drives a little fast. But he was a perfect gentleman." Relaxing, she managed to meet his eyes again with a real smile on her face again. "I don\'t give him any reason to be a jerk to me. Maybe you should be a little less or a prick and maybe people will be a little nicer to you." Sarcasm, she loved it. But the Akari changed the subject quickly, not really allowing him to respond.
"He took me to Risk, but I\'m sure you knew that." Storm scowled, her cheeks flooding crimson again as the memories of the night began to solidify. "We danced...." she trailed off, eyes shifting to a spot on the wall. Yes, she actually danced, and with Pierre no less. Handsome, strong, blond, French, Pierre. What a night. She didn\'t speak for a moment, struggling to quell the fire that had resurfaced in her face.
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Before he realized his body was tense again, something about what she said triggering a nerve in his mind. Go rigid, it said without his knowledge. And Damien didn\'t like that feeling.
The vampire smirked, rolling is eyes in an attempt at recovery. "I had no idea of his intentions." Of course Damien was the one that set it all up, purposely taking himself out of the equation for some futile R&R. "I expected you to be safe nonetheless. You know I trust any decision of Pierre\'s so neither of us should have worried.
"And I\'ll trust by the fact that you\'ve no marks on your neck that he was a complete gentleman in keeping you away from the creeps at Risk?" His smile was tight but pleasant nonetheless. Damien stood and stretched making it seem as if he were actually sitting on his rear the entire time she was gone instead of pacing and watching the cars below the Capital Building.
"But what I want to know is what exactly made you want to come back here for the night. I mean I\'m sure you know that the sun\'s not to rise for a few hours yet. Why return so early?" And for whatever reason, Damien paid close attention to the answer, a reaction that he found ludicrous and unfounded.
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Storm was speechless for a moment, faced with the question she had been trying to answer herself ever since she had told Pierre to take her back. Well, since she even had the desire to come back, really. It was because snowball fights reminded her of pillow fights and she wasn\'t really having that much fun without... No. That\'s not why. She was missing the shower. She was wet and cold. Besides, clubs weren\'t her thing anyway. For inexplicable reasons, or perhaps reasons that she didn\'t necessarily want to acknowledge, she blushed again and could not meet his eyes.
"Clubbing isn\'t my thing." the answer was too quick, forced really. "And I wanted to take a shower." Nothing really about either answer was true, but the fact that she didn\'t have an excuse made her feel uncomfortable. The reason for coming back wasn\'t because she missed Damien\'s company. Of course not. Why would it be? She didn\'t miss the sarcastic back-and-fourth battles the two shared, his awkward smile and laugh. No. She just wanted to take a shower.
"Why, do you want me to leave?" the girl\'s eyes flickered back up to meet his, the same sparkle still behind her playful gaze.
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"Oh, absolutely," he gested back, a crooked smile appearing briefly. It\'s not like I was worried about your safety the entire time or anything. Damien rolled his eyes at her yet again. "And this shower thing is costing me money, you know? So just take your personal hygene and get out as soon as you can." His smile was evident even through his sarcasm.
Her reactions, every one of them, were caught by Damien. And he didn\'t understand many of them. Not her avoidance of his gaze nor her panicked scrambling. It made him gaze at her more than was probably nessecary, something she must have gotten used to by now.
"So are you going to try to sleep tonight or is it still not worth it? You haven\'t slept in a few days. I\'m beginning to think you\'re a complete insomniac." There was still gest to his conversation, though it was a legitamate curiousity of his to see when the non-sleeping mortal would finally settle down for the entire ... well for a few hours.
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"Oh please, you\'re lucky I hardly eat anything or you might have to downgrade your apartment to something more affordable." another smile. Twenty minute showers were hardly anything to complain about. Storm stood anyway, flexing her shoulders to relieve some of the constant ache that her wings caused. And that soreness was one of the only reasons that she took long showers, but she didn\'t feel like explaining that to him.
The comment about her sleep, however, rubbed her the wrong way. Sleep wasn\'t anything she felt like thinking about, especially not lately. Did he even realize, by now, how much she hated sleeping? Her dream pattern had fallen back onto memories as opposed to the usual Laurent-induced torture. Storm wasn\'t really sure if she knew which one was worse. Either way, she wasn\'t planning on sleeping any time soon. She made a significant effort to dissolve her tension before answering the vampire.
"I don\'t plan on sleeping. I can go longer without sleep the more I take trips to the forest." she tried to make her face look a little less bothered as she smiled at him. "I would go without sleep forever if I could, but I can\'t. So I\'ll pass out eventually and be out of your way soon, don\'t worry." the smile came easier for her, and she made a move toward the bathroom.
"I promise I\'ll take no longer then twenty minutes, since you\'re so concerned about the water bill." effortlessly Storm drew a comfortably change of clothing, similar to pajamas (not that she was going to sleep) from their hiding places with her mind, catching it all in one arm before opening and closing the bathroom door behind her.
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"Maybe I should ship you out into the woods more often then, huh?" His comment slipped through the door just as she was about to close it behind her. Damien stood in his bedroom with his eyes lingering on the door for a few long moments until he heard her prepare her shower and step in. The vampire returned to his spot at the window, pulling aside the duct tape he would have to replace sooner or later to look out upon the road again.
Fewer cars this time, same smokey street lights with snow fluttering around in the sky. The glass was cold when his hand rose to touch it lightly water hitting a body filled his ears before her realized it. Damien left the room, grabbing duct tape from the kitchen where frightening images of a tortured life lingered in graphic. He replaced the tape to the sound of water running down flesh. Damien grit his teeth, ripping the tape quickly and easily while wishing he had another, separate bathroom and bedroom for his tenant.
It was odd for him to realize that the girl was actually living with him. How many nights had he stalked out of his own apartment without an excuse for her in order to rid himself of the Thirst for her blood. He had lost count. Another piece of tape. Rolled and stuck. These weren\'t thoughts he wanted to think about. Not the Thirst. Not the pain of distance from his former. Not the sound of water on her body.
Last piece. Ripped. Rolled. Stuck. He was out of that room before her hand even reached the lever to turn the faucet off. His room.
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It was ironic, really, that the shower lent the only real peace that the girl could get in this apartment. It was the only place where she could be alone, the only place she could quietly think. And even though she was relaxed, and in a good mood, Storm payed careful attention not to sing, as she had that first night. Singing was something she reserved for when she was absolutely sure that Damien wasn\'t around. Which was a rarity, and that used to bother her so much.
What a night. While Pierre was something unattainably attractive to her, it was difficult for Storm to relax enough around him to really be herself. At least, not without thinking of Damien. Really, she almost ached to be away from him, feeling too suffocated in the apartment and her "call for duty". But the whole Isabella thing didn\'t hold as much dread as it once did, just a dull sense of obligation. The slap on the wrist. The reminder not to get too comfortable. But this silent reprimand seemed to fade, for whatever reason, over time. It could be worse, but it could be better too. For now it was alright, regardless of how many questions tonight brought about. Why was he so angry? There was something flowing from Damien when she hugged Pierre, she could feel it. At least, she thought she did. Then again, she could have been imagining things. Yes, that\'s what it must have been.
What was once something of a luxury was now more routine, and the Akari was beginning to take hot water for granted. The only ill effects of this was her slowly declining ability to truly unwind. Hot water used to have drug-like effects on her, but not so much anymore. But that wasn\'t to say that she couldn\'t enjoy it. Twenty minutes of meditation was better then none. Sweet smelling soap--her own soap--mingled with the thick steam that filled the bathroom. Inhale. Exhale. Lather. Inhale. Exhale. Rinse.
Twenty minutes was up before she realized it, and Storm stepped from the shower with her pale skin glistening with water. She had taken extreme care, this time, in remembering to bring a towel, as she always had since that first night. The less awkward situations, the better. As she wiped the moisture from her body, the girl examined her face in the mirror. The dark circles that had adorned her face a few months ago had faded enough to make her look like she had actually slept. And all of the smiling had done her good, lightened up the darkness that typically hung around her like a wary shadow.
Mechanically, she pulled on her clothing, dark shorts and a baggy t-shirt. And of course, she couldn\'t leave the bathroom without drawing on the mirror (it was a habit by now, that one-winged heart). With her dirty clothes balled up and in one arm, Storm opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, shaking her hand through her hair to dry it out a little. Everything seemed so routine, but she couldn\'t possibly feel more out of place sometimes. Maybe it was how temporary the \'living\' arrangement was. Did he really expect to keep her here, with him? Living between the couch and the kitchen? When was she going back? Back to where? Did she even want to go back anymore?
All of this plagued her mildly as she walked slowly to the kitchen, picking up a notebook that was only half-full with her sketches before sitting down at the table. Really, Storm wasn\'t in much of a mood to draw.
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Damien couldn\'t help but watch her, trying to read her mood. The soap was too distracting. He couldn\'t understand why he had bought her such strong soap, flowery and quite becoming for her natural scent. At the present moment, with her skin still damp and her mood seemingly contented, the scent radiating from her part of the apartment was obnoxious for him.
In an even voice he asked his question after a long moment or so. "What are you thinking about?" It was a game the two of them had developed unknowingly. They would go back and forth sometimes asking the question and the other would tell. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it didn\'t, both of them too private in order to share much of themselves with the other.
He noticed her eyes flash up and he didn\'t bother to hide his expression. His nose remained slightly wrinkled and his eyes bore into her with the full force of age. There was no reason to keep his age sacred from her any longer, nor was there a need to play human. His body was rigid by nature and his features resting immortally upon her. Ace never moved unless he had to, so only his eyes showed the life still lingering in his corpse.
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Storm sighed audibly, flipping slowly though her sketches but not really looking at them. Running her fingers through her hair, she turned around to directly face him, her expression hiding nothing from him because it wasn\'t really necessary. The Akari met his eyes easily, never intimidated by their chill nor age. Not anymore anyway. He couldn\'t scare her even if he tried.
"Why, what are you thinking about?" it was her usual response. But tonight she wasn\'t sure if she was going to tell him what she was dwelling on. Not that she enjoyed staying her. Not that she was expecting him to make her leave. Not that she found it harder to go a night without thinking about him and she didn\'t know why. But she knew that he wouldn\'t be content with the same-old-comeback. So she sighed and spoke again.
"Did you tell him to take me to the woods?" she asked, a jokingly accusing tone in her voice. But her eyes told otherwise, holding something more of a fierce appreciation. Really, it was probably the sweetest thing done for her that night. Only Damien could have known how much she really missed that place. Pierre seemed like he just wanted a night on the town, and that wasn\'t really her sort of thing.
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He kept his composure, only the mouth moving on his calmed face. "Of course not." By now she was used to his lying and he was expecting her to see through it somewhat, but still wonder if it had been all his doing. "He chose to himself. He\'s a good watcher of people, and knows how to make them happy." Damien smiled, his stony face moving in order to accomadate the new resident. But instead of leaving things how they were, he decided to even give her an extra response today.
"That soap is... noxious for me. It\'s killing me. Any immortal will smell you from miles away and wonder where flowers could possibly live in this city. Not to mention if I have to go out with you, ugh! The horror!" His lips were turned up in a smile as he waited for her reaction, expecting a pen thrown at his face or to be smothered with the television remote or something to that effect.
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So he did plan the whole thing, It was obvious he was lying, there was something in his eyes that she had learned to recognize. That and Storm wasn\'t an idiot. If Pierre had been so good at figuring out what people liked, he wouldn\'t have taken her to Risk. But she couldn\'t even voice this because Damien kept talking. Something about her soap being too flowery.
Storm exaggerated her offended expression, eyes shifting easily back into a blue hue. "I can\'t believe you would say such a thing! Besides, you\'re the one who picked this one out. It isn\'t my fault you can\'t figure out what scent I like." She grinned, turning around briefly to grab her notebook and pen, and turned back to face the vampire. "At least I bathe," she murmured under her breath, touching the pen to her paper.
The Akari began to draw, not glancing up. The sketch was quick, something that resembled a portrait of...well...Pierre. Not that she intended for it to turn out quite that way. Usually she didn\'t even plan out what to draw, it just happened.
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The vampire murmured darkly. "I heard that, you brat." There was the uncanny desire to explain to her that he bathed as much as she did, but she would never no it because he kept his bedroom door closed and generally took a much shorter amount of time to do so. Girls and their habits. Damien rolled his eyes casually.
"I picked that out because it was a lot softer smelling in the box." Which wasn\'t true in the least. He knew that the soap had a kick of scent, but it was one of the only soaps that complimented her natural scent, one of the only soaps that wasn\'t obnoxiously overpriced nor suspiciously small. It was one of the only soaps he could stand the smell of also. The major reason her scent was so strong in the room was because her skin was still damp and complimented the bought product too perfectly. It began to pull at his jaw after a while. Ace was tempted to say "and because I thought you might like it."
All he heard was the scratching of her pen on the paper. Damien found it actually calming, knowing things had gotten back to the original routine. The next night he would find himself a victim in order to quell the rising Thirst. He didn\'t want to remain locked up in here anymore than she probably did. How nauseating it was to be there for a few wakeful hours.
A thought flickered over his mind and the silver eyes fell from Storm for a moment, lost in thought. When he looked back up at her some moments later, he found the courage to ask. "Storm?"
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Flipping the page, she started anew. A different portrait. But the one whom she had decided to draw spoke, breaking her concentration for a moment. "Yeah?" she looked up, eyes soft and brown. Not that she showed it in her face, but her heart jumped for a second when he said her name. More out of nervous anxiety, feeling like he was going to ask her something important.
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He paused, suddenly feeling extremely awkward for even calling attention to himself. Damien wasn\'t so sure he wanted to ask that question anymore. But his mouth stumbled ungracefully over the first word. "Would- Would you like some company during the day?" Out of habit his eyes drifted to the floor before he lifted them to watch her. "I realize that you\'re here alone all day long. I was just thinking upon how maddening that is sometimes.
"Do- Do you desire company?"
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Storm snickered, shaking her head and returning her gaze back toward her drawing. Why was he stumbling all over his words all of a sudden? It was an easy enough question to ask, anyway. Nothing invasive on either of their parts, at least she didn\'t think so. Besides, who would she enjoy the company of? Pierre? It\'s not like there was anyone she knew in the city that walked in daylight.
"I\'ve always been alone. I don\'t mind it." her expression was thoughtfully, and she glanced up to his face to check if her proportions were correct. Of course, this wasn\'t obvious, considering she would have been quite embarrassed if he found out that she was drawing him. "Why, worried I might get myself into trouble?" her voice was soft, and the pen paused mid-stroke as her eyes returned to his. "What\'s it matter to you anyway? It\'s not like I bother you during the day, do I?"
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"No, I know that. I just also know that this apartment is maddening at times. I mean it\'s not as if you sit down and watch TV ever. You... draw. On paper, on walls, whatever. But how long can that possibly be entertaining for hours on end, day after day?
"I\'ve remained awake during the day before. It\'s easier than it may appear for me. Technically I don\'t need sleep often considering it won\'t kill me anyway. I was just wondering. That\'s all." He paused, letting his eyes fall to the floor. "It\'s not like we\'d be able to go anywhere, but, I don\'t know. Maybe it would be less ... Prisoner-esque to have some kind of human... well, live contact."
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Storm averted her eyes, focusing on the drawing again. As calm as she forced herself to be, her heartbeat hammered against her will. What was she getting so flustered about? Calm down, Christ. It was a nice thing to offer, something that completely caught her off guard. It was cute, really, how he had that round-about way of offering to stay up for her sake. No, not cute. What was she saying?
"So, what. You want to stay up with me? Keep me company? Is that what you\'re saying?" she smiled, cheeks still tinted with red. And as gracefully as she could manage, she stood, gathering her notebook and a few more pens together before walking over to the living room. She sat, eying him quietly before returning to her sketch. The drawing gradually became more realistic the more she added detail, and the girl looked up every so often, half for reference and half to make sure he couldn\'t see what she was drawing.
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His eyes flashed down at her drawing for a moment before resting on her. He leaned back casually in his chair, arm hanging over the arm of the loveseat. "Only if you want me to." When she didn\'t respond, Damien glanced down at her drawing again, wondering. "What are you drawing?"
Her cheeks flushed red, her hands busy sketching, her eyes refusing to find his. It wasn\'t a question he typically asked anymore, knowing full-well that he usually wouldn\'t understand wh she was drawing whatever she was drawing. But he wanted to know why the girl was having such a large reaction to him and his questions. What exactly was going on?
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Really, she wasn\'t trying to draw him, it was just happening. By now it was a little more then a portrait, her sketching had moved to accommodate his arm, going of the page. And it was beginning to look more like a college human figure drawing, something that should be on sketchbook and not lined paper. He spoke again and Storm jumped.
"What?" Perhaps too quickly she shifted in her seat in order to tilt the notebook toward her and away from his line of sight. She glanced up, fighting the red that was tinting her cheeks. Why are you so nervous? Cut it out. Just draw something else. The girl flipped the page, careful not to revel anything that she was drawing beforehand.
"Nothing, just doodling." A nervous smile. She went back to drawing trees, something much safer and easier to explain. But for whatever reason, the bark that had sprouted so easily from the tip of the pen before wasn\'t coming out right, and she fell back to drawing him. Hand studies, something she used to do back in high school when she had large amounts of paper at her disposal. If she had graduated, she would have been an art major for sure. But for now, it was just a hobby. Storm glanced up at him again, eyes following the curve of his arm to get it "just right". The pen was beginning to skip.
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"What are you drawing?" Before she could even blink, his hand was pushing at the corner of the notebook, tilting the image towards him. Before Storm could even react, he saw her pen gliding over the outline of a hand--his hand. And before she could react, he had let go of the image, and gave her an indescribable look. It was something mixed with confusion, shock, and embarassment.
Why on earth was she drawing him? His hands? Was this the blushing? Was this... What was this? And why did he feel so... uprooted by it? Damien had a hard time regaining his composure. It wasn\'t often that things caught him off guard nowadays. But this had certainly taken the cake. "So is this what you\'ve been hiding from me all along? What, is that entire notebook filled with sketchings of my hands?" He hated to think of what else she was drawing... His figure... his face.
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"Jesus Christ not the whole book! Just this page!" Face contorted with embarrassment she pulled the book sharply away from him. "I was practicing form from a model. They do it in art school." She was stuttering all over the place and she didn\'t like it. Very quickly Storm regained her composure, sliding an easy mask over the entirety of her flustered before standing up and walking back to the kitchen.
Relax. You didn\'t do anything wrong. There isn\'t anything you need to explain to him. Stubbornly she sat, setting her left hand down next to her to use a a study. Frustrated with the skipping pen, she tossed it to the side and looked around for another one. The fact that she could not find a working pen in the closest proximity didn\'t help, and she sat back down, more distressed then before. Quietly the girl began to flip back to the first portrait, taring her "talent" apart the longer she examined it.
There wasn\'t any reason for her to be getting this upset. Really. There wasn\'t anything that she was doing that was out of the ordinary, more then usual anyway. What was going on with her today? Storm sighed, running her fingers through her hair and moving to gaze at her work on the walls. Change the subject.
"Didn\'t you want me to wash this off sometime? It\'s been up forever."
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He eyed her suspiciously as she stood and stalked back to the kitchen. He felt bad for getting her upset with him, but it was no more than usual. Cautiously he responded to her with an even tone. "It brings a change to an apartment which can get old after years of living here.
"Why? Are you uncomfortable having it up there?" The vampire falt as if this was quickly becoming another one of their games.
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"No, it\'s fine. I just..." Storm sighed, forcing her heart to beat at a normal pace. She turned to face him and spoke up again. "You were so upset when I first put it up, remember?" she offered a shy smile, eyes raising slowly to meet his. It was odd to her that it had even remained on the walls after that first night. Odder still that he hadn\'t scolded her for making small alterations to the mural and adding to it every so often.
As much as she wanted to draw attention away from her drawings, she couldn\'t help but bring it up again. "Are you mad at me for drawing you? I mean, I won\'t do it ever again if you don\'t want me to..." her eyes shifted to the floor between them, fluttering between red and orange. "Trees get so dull after awhile, and it wasn\'t like you were moving much," she offered, half hoping that it would somehow explain why she was drawing him to begin with. Not that it mattered, considering she barely believed that argument herself.
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He continued to watch her, moving as little as possible. "Mad at you for drawing me? No, Storm. It takes a bit more than that to get me riled up." Which was true, completely. His defense was, why would she want to draw him?
Another idea flashed over his mind. What if that\'s how he could keep her company? He hated the idea of leaving her alone all day on the day after her birthday. Maybe if she was so contented with drawing him... The thought made him feel ridiculous, childish. She was a grown woman now, fully able to take care of herself in an empty apartment. Why should he feel bad about leaving her alone all day?
Becuase this was all because of him anyway. Damien sighed inaudiably. "Well," he paused, hesitating with the words, knowing why his emotions were mixed. "What about a live... well... almost-live model?" The vampire grinned crookedly, laughing at his awkwardness internally.
-
Storm looked at him incredulously for a second, eyes swimming between red and blue. "Please, don\'t do anything for my sake." she rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. "You\'d have to stay still without looking stiff, for hours maybe, without falling asleep." she uncurled her legs from underneath her and standing slowly. Turning from him for a moment, the girl took a good look underneath the piles of discarded sketches, walking away from the kitchen with a pencil between her fingers.
"You sure you\'re still up for it? I\'m not going to force you." her face was flush and she fingered the pages of the notebook nervously before sitting down on the couch across from him. Something hung in the air between them, something she could not place. It had replaced the awkwardness that had been present for the few months past. It was now that the Akari wished she had a real sketchbook for once. Either that or blank walls to draw on. Maybe she would actually have to start washing the kitchen walls.
-
Damien threw a glance over at the window in the kitchen. It had been a while since he stopped up the light and had no idea if it needed to be tampered with before they started. Depending upon how long this took, the sun could rise and burn holes in his skin before he could actually move. Another little nasty scar that burned freshly every night.
"Hold that thought." Damien stood and went to the window after fetching his roll of trusty duct tape. Sure enough there was a gap between the dusty tape and the glass which would refuse to disappear when he pressed it down. Appearantly someone had tried looking down into the street.
Instead of bringing it to attention, Damien pulled off a piece of tape and stuck the fabric down to the glass. Perfect. The sun was a few hours from rising yet and he hadn\'t felt fatigued in a while. He could avoid the sun easily enough during the day, sleep actually a habit rather than an actual need, though it did help to clear the mind. The vampire crossed the room and seated himself across from the young lady. "I think I can sit still for a few hours, Storm. I just hope you can." And he settled himself in, allowing his mind to tick away while he watched her.
-
Storm watched him fix the window, eyes silently searching for a composition in the lines of his body. An artist\'s habit, even if it was only a hobby. And as innocent and purposeful of an action as it was, she still found her cheeks tinting red as her concentration faltered for a moment. Looking down, she refocused, twirling the pencil between her fingertips while she waited for him to return. What are you getting so nervous about? You’re just drawing. You were just drawing him a second ago.
When Damien spoke, Storm rolled her eyes, giving him an "of course I can" look. Besides, she would hardly be sitting still. The pencil was sharpened with a knife so that the led was longer then a traditional sharpener permitted. She moved to the floor now, sitting against the chair and propping her notebook up on her bare knees.
“Try not to think about the fact that I’m drawing you, so the pose will look a little more natural.” Her voice was distracted as she studied the way he was positioned before actually touching the pencil to the paper, face still as flush as it was in the beginning. A few lines on the paper signaled that she had actually found a worthy composition, and she began to dive into her work. Every now and then she muttered complaints to herself about the poor quality of the paper and how the lines took away from what she was doing, comments meant only for her to hear, really.
-
His head barely nodded in her direction as she started. The two of them were lost in their own worlds now. Damien couldn\'t help but sit still as a statue, the acting part too difficult for him. Sit still. But don\'t like like your sitting still. Acting like you\'re not posing while I draw you. Pose, but don\'t look like you\'re posing. He never knew that he had what it took to be America\'s Next Top Model. He snickered internally at the implication, a brief flickering of a smirk rising to his lips.
So he sat there, one arm hanging off the edge of the chair\'s arm. One arm poised up at his temples on the other arm of the chair. Head inclined to the left. Feet relaxed and set still. All the while he watched her, allowing his eyes to settle on nothing else but her for the day. His gaze was vacant, unfocused, but he was paying attention to the movement of the pencil in her hand, her thumping heart, her eraser\'s end. Her focused eyes. Her tense position. Her curved legs covered high at the thigh by shorts which she neglected to adjust in order to control his straying eyes.
Out of all the good things about women he had ever loved, the eyes, the soft hair, the multiple, sensuous curves, it was the legs that got to him the most. And it was Storm\'s legs now that caused an innocent stirring of admiration in the vampire. Too bad his thoughts were plagued with thoughts of pushing this aside and focusing (unsuccessfully) on the task at hand.
-
Pay attention to proportions. Knees have three lines, three plains. Foreshorten the legs, accentuate the face. Darker lines, deeper shadows. \'S\' and \'I\' for the spine, make it flow, make it natural. The arm. Bolder line for the arm. Seven heads is the height of a body, three heads fit on one shoulder. Neck is the width of the head.
The girl stopped her sketching for a moment, looking up from the basic outline she had placed on her paper. Slowly her eyes moved over him, glancing back at her paper every so often to check her measurements. Without looking down, she flipped the page, starting anew and narrowing her composition to include just his upper torso and head. Storm muttered something about not having charcoal, and looked up at him again when she had placed a very rough outline.
This intense focus was mainly to distract her from what was actually going on. If she let her mind slip for a moment, she would realize just what her eyes were tracing and how long she spent looking at every visible inch of him. And when her focus slipped, her face flushed accordingly. Something she couldn\'t prevent in the slightest bit. But for now, Storm was drawing his face. Her eyes moved slowly, following each line and plane that made up the form of his face. The structure, texture, and curves.
Now she was looking up at his face roughly ninety percent of the time, feeling awkward with the silence as the minutes passed before she finally spoke. "What are you thinking about?" The pencil paused mid-stroke but her eyes remained on the drawing and did not meet Damien\'s gaze.
-
Before he knew it, the hours had passed. Damien could feel the sun\'s prick internally, an instinctual fear he had for the rising beast of fire and ash. Dawn had passed recently and the room was becoming warmer slowly. If Storm hadn\'t been there, he might have fretted, panicked internally even and paced the room. Nine more hours of daylight to go.
In the meantime, the vampire\'s thoughts had strayed off of Storm and her legs, forceably shifted in order to prevent his own anger from surfacing. His thoughts had flickered over several topics, including Pierre, Nikolai, and multiple other Immortal Children he had made himself. He retraced the day he lost his wife and many of his Children with a solemn look in his eyes. He retraced the night of his birth unto immortality, his first battle with humans, his first battle against them. And by the time her question hit him, Damien\'s placid expression had melted into something dismal as he recounted his knowledge of Storm\'s past. "Huh?"
Silver eyes refocused on her face now, the eyes shifting ever so slightly onto hers which remained focused. His had missed her blushing face and any other reaction she might have had to her own work. "What am I thinking about?" He paused. "I don\'t think you really want to know." His statement was conclusive, as if he were trying to shut the topic down in one fell swoop.
-
"Well, if I didn\'t want to know I wouldn\'t have asked," the last word was forced out awkwardly as she stood, taking the notebook in one hand and stretching toward the ceiling. It had been a productive morning so far, and her wrist was sore and beginning to cramp up. Storm settled back into the couch she had been leaning against for the past length of time. The notebook was closed now and she looked at him rather easily with teal eyes.
"I suppose I won\'t push you, but I\'m still curious. So feel free to share." she smiled lightly, and then added, "You can move now, I\'m done." The girl looked down into her lap at the closed notebook, slowly reopening the cover and flipping through the pencil sketches with mild distaste. There was always something wrong with everything, and that was what frustrated her the most about drawing. But she loved it, especially lately now that she had so much free time that wasn\'t devoted to sulking in the woods and wandering around. Running from something that she couldn\'t see.
-
She was in a contented mood, one of those rare ones where it was genuine and without force behind it. And those were the moods that he hated ruining, so he lied to her. "I was thinking about the immortal children I\'ve made and how long it has been since I personally sired one. I have multiple descendants, grand children and so on, if you will. But it\'s been around fourteen years since I fledged another.
"Why? What\'s on your mind? I thought you\'d be drawing for a much longer period of time than this. I was prepared to sit here all day, if that\'s what you so wanted."
He stopped speaking. That last comment felt too awkward and it caused the vampire, nine-hundred-and-forty-five years strong, to clam up immediately.
-
A short, quick laugh. "Really now, since when do you bend to my every desire?" Storm shook her head, looking up at him now with shimmering blue eyes, a page lifted between her thumb and pointer finger. The drawings escaped her attention for a moment and she set the notebook down--closed--on the table in front of her.
"I can only stand drawing you for so long, anyway." another easy grin. Why was everything so easy for her to do? Not long ago it would have been such a rare thing for her to smile so willingly at the vampire. Or laugh. It was almost unnerving how lacking the chaos was, but the Akari wasn\'t about to complain. This was the most happiness she\'d felt in...well...years really. But there was still one fact that was causing some questions to arise in her mind.
"You don\'t have to stay awake for me, even if it is my birthday," Storm began slowly, measuring each word before she spoke, "I do appreciate your company though," despite how it sounded, the statement wasn\'t an afterthought that she added to express her gratitude for his self-sacrifice for her expense. She really meant it.
-
The vampire gave her a self-explanatory look, stating, "Really now, I don\'t think it\'s bending, especially when I\'m the one that offered in the first place." But he felt the moment take a sort of solemn note at her last comment. Damien only shrugged.
He had had his time to think -- even though he came up with close to nothing answered or solved. Really the lack of sleep was no huge sacrifice. Had he been any number of centuries younger than maybe he would have truly and honestly worried about his outcome. But there was nothing in the Elder Vampire\'s Handbook which stated that sleep was distinctly needed in order to survive. Isabella herself had taught him that herself within his first few months of immortality. Sleep to him, as it was to Isabella, is just a way to escape the day, to recount the thoughts plaguing the mind during the night.
So when for once he had the chance to maintain a day of normal or calmed actions with Storm, he\'d take it. At least for now. "Honestly, Storm, it\'s not a huge thing." His eyes fell to the coffee table where he traced the lines in the wood there.
-
She watched him silently for a moment, letting the air fill with quiet without her protest. There was a nagging feeling deep in her bones that urged her to sleep, as if she could actually enjoy the relief of legitimately relaxing for a few hours. Surely, after the full night that she just had, sleep could have been almost equally as enjoyable. But Storm never slept soundly. There was never a time without a nightmare. And despite this knowledge, the couch cushion seemed tauntingly comfortable as she sank lower into it.
"Do me a favor?" the girl asked, still quite awake but feeling far too content to let her guard down. "Don\'t let me fall asleep." She sighed deeply, making a significant effort to sit up. Even though the trees had restored some of her exhaustion from dancing, she could still feel the dull ache in her shoulders and back as well as various other muscles of concern.
-
The elder simply nodded, his eyes hardly flickering off their task of counting all the patterns of angles the coffee table made. He couldn\'t understand why she never slept, only that she didn\'t. It was strange for him to see her fight sleep for so many nights while all the other mortals dreamed fantastical things.
Sure, he experienced the aftermath of her dreams: her sweat-soaked body trembling under no covering whatsoever, the wild panic in her eyes, the hatred laced so deeply that it made even Damien sick. He had even seen the dreams she had, changed to a table and stripped of all decency, icy blue eyes and white hot iron...
But what he couldn\'t understand was the lack of variation to her dreams. There was either a battlefield mixed with the name Gabriel, or him, the slavehandler, the Captain.
Damien had seen him only once in Storm\'s dreams, the one time she dragged the vampire close enough, but he hadn\'t forgotten Laurent\'s face, that shit-faced sneer that heated even Damien\'s blood. And she had years of memories of him.
It was hard to say his name outloud, but Damien knew how she could hate sleep if his face and his legacy was a constant reminder to her of her past. He relaxed his rigid jaw, keeping the urge to kill something at bay.
He just wanted her to sleep. Slowly, his eyes drifted up to look at her, to study her as drowsiness consumed her. Damien could feel her senses growing dull, her struggle to fight becoming more apparent with every blink she took. Had it been any other girl he might have smiled and thought it was cute. Now, only worry settled in his features, at a loss of what to say to her.
"If you could have done something differently within the past twelve hours, what would it have been?" It was a menial, boring question, one that required no deep thinking, but it was one more moment where he denied her sleep, wasn\'t it?
-
If she could get past nine thirty without nodding off, she would be fine for the night. That was how it always was, as if her circadian rhythm commanded her to rise normally at that time, regardless of how long she had gone without sleep. Really, Storm could fight the urge to sleep easily enough on her own. Standing and pacing the living room was how she got through it before, without Damien\'s help. But for whatever reason, she was more then content to talk with him, listen to his voice, letting him keep her from sleep rather then struggle against herself. Besides, it was her birthday. Was. It was her birthday. And what a fantastic night it was...
Without her meaning too, Pierre forced his way (rather charmingly) into her mind. His smile, laugh, scent, and the dancing. And it was at this convenient second that Damien asked his question, causing her to blink slowly, the slightest trace of embarrassment flickering across her face. Differently? Well, for starters she wouldn\'t have acted like such an idiot in front of Pierre, maybe she would have dressed a little nicer, tried to relax more at the club, and maybe even try to... No. No matter how much she wanted to change that, she couldn\'t be more forward.
"Um, I don\'t know..." there was a long pause as she fought the red blooming on her cheeks. But at least it was keeping the girl from nodding off to sleep. "I had fun tonight, I don\'t think I\'d want to change anything." If the Akari thought hard enough, that would have been a lie.
-
Damien ignored the blush and eyed her through his study. "You mean you liked being around all those fledglings drinking blood and sopping up as much attention as they could?" No child of his had ever acted like that for very long; none of his children were ever spoiled.
He hated Risk, personally. The only things that could drag him into that club were business and desperation, neither one bringing him much satisfaction. Being so late in age, Damien and long since figured out his immortal schedules: Thirst, healing, sleep. So desperation came sparsely scattered. But business... Damien must have been the only vampire in the city who hated Risk, because any new fledgling or potential recruit, no matter how respectable, could be found in that nigh club. And it made him sick the way some humans simply sold their blood. Like prostitution.
So he had raised his children to avoid desperation, taught them not to slobber all over a human\'s lap for a droplet of life. The thought of anything less disgusted him.
He had suggested it to Pierre in order to begin Storm\'s assimilation quietly into Damien\'s empire of blood and death. He wanted her to see the ugliest of all there could bee seen, the most dispicable. The desperation. She needed to see what he, and eventually what she would be be fighting against. If she so chose to... The vampire dropped the thought at that point, realizing the fine line he would be walking soon if any more thoughts continued.
-
Storm scowled at him and scoffed. "No, that wasn\'t what I was paying attention to anyway." Pierre was distracting enough, she thought with a smirk, recalling how close she had been to him. The thought was still dizzying if she dwelt on it long enough. Despite the obvious attraction she had to him, the girl was almost one-hundred-percent-sure that the vampire thought nothing of her. At least, nothing more then a friend. And even though she was a fool to think otherwise, she couldn\'t help but wonder what would have happened if she had been a little more forward. Regardless of the supposed "dangers". Please, a bite was the least of her concerns. And again, ridiculous scenarios filled her mind; the what-if\'s that would never be reality.
"I\'m surprised Pierre even managed to drag me into that place..." she stated carefully, pretending not to notice that she was blushing much at all. When really, the sound of her own voice saying his name made her inexplicably shy for very little reason. The statement was a bold-faced lie and she knew it. Storm had practically floated into the club after him, no dragging necessary. Dancing with Pierre? Who would pass that up?
-
His suspicion peeked. "Pierre?" Was that why she was blushing? Because of Pierre? His eyes widened. That was it wasn\'t it? "Wait a minute. You..." There was a weird smirk on his face, as if he were putting the pieces of a joke together. "You like Pierre? You do, don\'t you?"
It was so obvious. All the blushing. All the lack of eye contact between them. It was a crush! Damien laughed shortly, a grin filling his face. Storm had a crush on his First Born.
But while the thought was amusing, Damien felt a rush of bitterness in his stomach. Pierre had been manipulating her, even when he had specifically instructed him not to. It was the first time that Damien had ever had such a problem with Pierre, even with all his womanizing. And he was not one to accept disobedience from anyone. Ace was furious with him. This newfound crush wouldn\'t help Damien\'s cause in any way, shape, or form, as he needed Storm. He needed her to focus her energy on the tasks at hand, not on how charming Pierre could be.
But for whatever reason, he couldn\'t direct his private anger towards Storm. Instead there was a bit of sadness. They had come so far in their relationship and now Pierre would whisk her off her feet long before the task was completed. Damien had been the one to try to reach her and all Pierre had done between Storm and Damien was follow orders, and now Storm had a disaterous crush on his fledgling which could possibly topple the entire empire Damien had been building with the hopes of having rule with Storm.
It just didn\'t make sense to him and anger swelled in his chest, transforming his smile into a tight lipped smiling mask.
-
Storm stared at him with her mouth gaping. "I do not! Where the hell did you get that idea?" her voice was high-pitched and squeaky, nothing like she wanted or expected it to be. Her face was quite red by now, and she shifted her position awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes. The girl knew she was helplessly drawn to Pierre, but she wasn\'t about to admit that to Damien. Never. It\'s not like the crush would ever move anywhere, so she didn\'t feel the need to tell him at all.
-
"Oh, no no no! It\'s obvious now." A short brisk laugh from him behind grit teeth. To himself he said alloud, "I\'m going to kill him. I am absolutely going to kill him." Damien paused, considering his options as calmly as he could with the building aggitation. He tried to say something more, but the same sentence came out, speaking only to himself. The temptation to call him and give the younger a piece of his mind was becoming quite enticing. He had never awoken another vampire from their sleep unless it was absolutely nessecary to do, but he was willing to broke his record now.
-
"Why the hell would you care anyway!" Storm stood abruptly, a flustered scowl still on her face. "It\'s not like it would go anywhere. He doesn\'t have the least bit of interest in me." She moved to the kitchen purposefully to avoid his accusatory eyes. For a moment, Damien actually sounded like he was angry with this turn of events. Jealous even. But she must have been imagining it. There couldn\'t be any reason for him to care how she felt toward anyone. Especially not Pierre.
A distressed sigh escaped her tightly pressed lips and she glared at the wall with enough intensity to cause the paint to peel. She was free to feel as she chose, was she not?
-
The intensity of her reaction threw him off. "Why do I care? Oh, I\'m not sure. Maybe because I know that you have feelings somewhere, unlike most of the woman he seduces and maybe, just maybe I\'m looking out for you." It felt somehow wrong as it came out of his mouth. He hated speaking about who she was meant to be in his entire scheme of events; it was a sore point in their relationship, but she did have a distinct purpose in the empire, whether she liked it or not. And he didn\'t like the fact that his First Born might ruin it.
His cell phone was in his hand as he finished and Damien was taking his time to type out of Pierre\'s number. He was still debating if he really wanted to take this ppast this room.
-
"Don\'t call him!" she whined desperately, as if this whole \'crush\' business was some sort of secret that would mean catastrophe if Pierre were to discover it. It was easy enough for her to flip the phone out of his grasp and onto the chair opposite of him, even if she was across the room.
"He wouldn\'t ever touch me and you know it! I don\'t know why you\'re making such a big deal about this. It\'s not ever going to go anywhere." Storm clearly emphasized every word in her last sentence, walking stiffly to the couch to where she was sitting before--and where the phone now lay. She picked it up, holding it firmly with little intentions of returning it.
-
The vampire stood up. "I know he wouldn\'t touch you, Storm. That\'s not what I was even talking about, now give it back. Now." His tone was grave and his hand was poised as if he honestly expected her to give it back so easily. If she were his Child then this would have been cause for punishment.
-
"You\'re really serious, aren\'t you?" she didn\'t know whether to be hurt or to laugh. "No. I don\'t want you to call him and wake him up for no reason at all." Storm\'s eyes narrowed and she took a step back.
"What\'s your problem? Can\'t I have my own feelings? It\'s not like I\'m acting on them, nor would I have the opportunity to do so at all." her voice took a slightly hurt tone. This whole situation was beginning to get ridiculous. Since when did he police her thoughts? Stubbornly she pulled the phone close to her, knowing in the back of her mind that he could retrieve it if he really wanted to.
-
He glowered at her, taking her comment seriously, but still ignoring the impulse to lash out. "Bullshit. Don\'t even try to pull that with me. Now give it back, Storm." His voice was low and dangerous. "I\'m entitled to react exactly how I want to, as are you. Now hand it over."
-
"Don\'t pull what with you?" she shrieked, "What the hell do you think I\'d do? He\'s so out of my league he\'d never notice me like that." Storm took another step away from him, slipping the phone into her front pocket and crossing her arms over her chest. She was still waiting for him to give up and agree not to call Pierre, maybe even realize how pointless this whole thing was.
-
Damien looked at her with disbelief. No, he would not let this go. There was something deep inside him that didn\'t want Storm to like Pierre at all, something that demanded that he protect her from liking the wrong people. He\'d be damned if he was going to let her fall in love with Pierre.
This would ruin everything. Where Storm was probably right, the red flag were already up in his mind. There would be danger soon if he didn\'t find a way to exterminate it. He would not call Pierre simply to tell him the latest Storm gossip. Damien would call him to let him know that he was to steer clear of Storm in every way. Even if it wasn\'t his fault, he wanted Storm\'s thoughts directed elsewhere.
Like helping Damien get Laurent off of their tales. "What, do you think I won\'t go and get it if you put it in your pocket?" He raised an eyebrow to her, his jaw set rigid.
-
Another steely glare. "Yeah, actually, I do. Unless you\'re less of a gentleman then I thought." the girl challenged, still backing away again despite her apparent confidence.
"You\'re being ridiculous. It\'s not like I\'m obsessed with him. I had a nice night with him, that\'s all. He\'s not on my mind all the time, if that makes you feel any better." her voice was bitter and she was still confused as to why he would care so much in the first place. He was acting just like...like a possessive boyfriend. And that made the least sense of all.
-
Damien gave a brisk laugh at her comment of being a gentleman. He was only a gentleman when he needed a victim\'s blood. "I kill people, what makes you think I\'m even capable of being a gentleman?" He took a step towards her, his patience wearing thinner. True, he deemed it too foward to go into her pocket and get his phone, but there was no possible way of her knowing that.
For whatever reason her statement soothed his nerves slightly. The vampire eyed her suspiciously, as if he suspected that she were influencing his mood or something. There was a strange satisfaction filtering into his expression, knowing that it wasn\'t obsession. Maybe there was hope at preserving the empire. "Just gimme my phone back, would ja?"
-
There was a strange ball of frustration in the base of her throat, similar to what she felt when she was about to cry. She felt like a little girl, all of this frustration pushing her and pushing her. Storm really hated giving up in all situations, and she especially didn\'t like making a fool of herself in front of Damien. Or anyone, really. She didn\'t even know what they were fighting about anymore.
Reluctantly she reached into her pocket, pulling the phone out and thrusting it into his outstretched hands. "Just don\'t call him." with that she stormed off into the kitchen, mind already calling for the pencil that lay patiently where she last left it. The long wood twirling between her fingers anxiously, eyes began to mist up and that made her angry. There wasn\'t any reason to cry except her pure frustration with this whole situation. That and she was tired.
Forcefully she pushed the pencil against the wall, drawing god-knows-what with a series of angry, slow lines. It was a tree, but it wasn\'t at the same time. And for whatever reason, she was beginning to feel so god damned lonely. The mist never gathered into tears and they reabsorbed into her eyes where they should have stayed to begin with.
-
"Thanks," he dropped sarcastically as he grabbed the phone roughly. It remained shut, the vampire finding little need to call up Pierre now that the girl had said what he really wanted to hear: there was no pressing need to worry about Pierre and Storm as a couple. Not today anyway. Still the elder glowered after the Akari like a teenager.
It was still hard to refuse the urge to at least text his First Born and give him a piece of his mind. Damien plopped himself back in his former spot and sighed through grit teeth. Relax, damn it. Nothing happened. Nothing\'s going to happen. It\'s not like she constantly thinks of him. She knows what\'s up. She knows it. Just calm the fuck down! But it wasn\'t working. His nerves were high and his eyes set in a glower, burning into the funiture across the way.
Yet some part of him felt uneasy for leaving her in the kitchen scrawling on the walls again. He could hear her angry strokes on his walls, almost worried that the pencil would grind through the paint and plaster. She gave frustrated sighs and breaths every now and then, along with discernable murmurs. But the thing that left him the most uneasy was the scent of tears. It wasn\'t strong, but it made Damien turn his head towards her in concern, even as the eyes glowered. The impulse to inquire about her current emotional state was strong, but he expected nothing but a hiss from the girl. SO he remained silent, shooting glances over at her every now and then, still refusing to forgive her for that phone trick she pulled.
-
What the fuck is his problem! The pencil dug furiously into the wall and her eyes managed to settle on a deep red instead of black. She could feel the glare coming from him even when he wasn\'t looking at her. It was a feeling that left her anxious and uncomfortable, not to mention confused. Storm couldn\'t understand why this whole ordeal had drawn such a reaction from him. She expected him to be mildly annoyed, maybe make fun of her for a little bit, then leave it alone. But this angry outburst was entirely uncalled for.
Eventually, the ferocity of her pencil dulled down to a quiet, contemplative scratching. She was tempted to ask him "why don\'t you go to bed?", but remained silent. The girl sighed quietly, putting the pencil down and leaning back in her chair. It still didn\'t make any sense to her at all. They were perfectly fine five minutes ago. She found herself longing for that peace that so quickly evaporated.
The Akari pulled the notebook from the living room, gently guiding it through the air and into her hands. Silently, she flipped through her drawings, skipping over Pierre\'s face, and looking instead at her drawings of Damien\'s. There was little that she liked of her own work, but she did find it easy to appreciate the bold lines she put into this particular drawing. Looking through her sketches calmed her considerably, but she still did not look to the vampire sitting in the next room.
-
The silence was becomming terribly awkward and maddening. "Look," he said after a number of minutes had passed. "I can\'t have Pierre lose focus on what he\'s doing now. Feel how you want to feel, I\'m not saying don\'t. But I can\'t afford to have Pierre mess around with your emotions. He doesn\'t know when to say \'enough\' with his charm, and the last thing anyone needs is for Pierre to lose his cool." He felt as if he were stumbling to explain himself, grappling for reasons that need to make more sense in his plotline. Damien\'s frustration was building rapidly the more he grappled.
"I had no intentions of telling him the lastest gossip, Storm. I need him to understand exactly what he\'s getting everyone into." He simply stopped. nothing was making sense to him anymore. All he knew is that he didn\'t want... couldn\'t afford to have Pierre and Storm like each other. Why? He simply couldn\'t figure out.
-
Storm turned and glared at him. "You\'re not making any sense at all." Why do I feel like he isn\'t telling me something? Pierre wouldn\'t lose his cool. That didn\'t seem like him in the least bit, especially considering he knew full well what would happen if anything progressed between the two of them. That much the girl knew. Pierre may be charming, but he wasn\'t an idiot, and if she knew him as much as she thought she did, he wouldn\'t ever go against anything Damien wanted. None of that mattered anyway, considering there wasn\'t any way that he would be attracted to her anyway. Pierre had first picks of the world of women, as far as she was concerned, and wouldn\'t look twice at Storm. Not like that.
"Nothing is ever going to happen. Am I attracted to him? Yes, but that doesn\'t mean I\'m going to go and get caught up in something that will never be. I may be human but I\'m not a child." Stubbornly she turned back to the notebook, black frustration leaking into her eyes. Why should she even bother explaining herself to him when she didn\'t have to! The girl roughly turned the page, nearly ripping it, looking at drawing but not absorbing what she was seeing. She found herself glaring at her drawing of Damien as if she were glaring at the real thing.
-
"Why don\'t we just forget it?" His frustration came between grit teeth again. He wanted the subject dropped as quickly as possible, the thoughts erased from his mind like everything else that caused friction between them. Damien was even debating which would be more harmful to the situation: locking himself away from Storm in the solitude of his own room, or locking himself with Storm, away from solitude. The bedroom door was looking mighty enticing.
He could feel her frustration clear across the room. Damien understood how it could have possibly become so befuddled. It was easy for him to see. A miscommunication. It was the problem in every single one of the pair\'s arguments. She didn\'t speak enough. He hadn\'t explained clearly. Back and forth, back and forth, until they both sat there so angry with the other that it was like being at square negative one. And it was tiresome.
Damien hated fighting with her. But she was so stubborn it pushed him to say something. It always did and he couldn\'t control himself. She was just too good at what she did.
-
"Fine," came her short and conclusive reply. Trees again, the angry trees. The paper was starting to rip beneath the pencil, but drawing them still managed to help calm the girl enough so she could breath properly for once. She wasn\'t nearly as angry as she was making it out to be, really there was hardly any reason to be angry in the first place. Calm down, this anger is going to wear you out and you know it. Sleep wasn\'t on her agenda. Not tonight.
Still Storm would not look up from the paper, trying to find some sort of understanding within the branches of the anger she was scrawling. Some birthday, she mused, maybe I should have stayed out longer with Pierre... But even the thought of the blond made her wince at this point, as if she really shouldn\'t even think about him anymore. As though thinking about him would lead to more fighting, and really she was getting sick of stupid arguments over trivial things. Back to square one. The pencil dug slowly into the paper as the frustration snowballed again. But the Akari still said nothing, feeling it her obligation to win the silent game because that was all she could ever win.
-
Damien sat stewing in his own mess of thoughts again, tracing a line somewhere between Isabella, himself, Pierre, and Storm. A weaving line. A connecting line. A disconnected line. A dotted line. He was trying to figure something out, trying to ignore her anger clear by her pencil strokes. But he had no idea what yet and he wasn\'t sure he wanted to.
And stubbornly, like the teenager he once was, Damien clung to his thoughts and justifications by Isabella\'s standards. Isabella never did this, never did that, would have, had done, etc. And he continued to stew as the sun rose and pricked innately at his skin. Seven in the morning. Eight in the morning. Every once in a while he would glance up at the clock across the room until it had become a very private joke to see how long he could resist the temptation of leaving her in the larger part of the apartment.
Great. Four hundred years of searching and all I want to do is get away now. Perfect. Thanks a lot.
He couldn\'t stand it anymore. Damien stood and crossed his arms overhis chest, facing her straight-on from clear across the room. His lips were puckered and the vampire refused to speak until she acknowledged him. Damien proceeded to bore his silver eyes into her.
-
"A more effective way to bore a hole into my head is to use physical force," she spoke smoothly without looking up at him, pencil drifting from it\'s intentional track. Storm most definitely did not appreciate the sudden attack of energy that Damien was undoubtedly unaware of. As if she didn\'t have enough eroding away at her mind. But she still did not look up at him, choosing instead to find her paper much more interesting.
If this was a stubbornness game, she would win. But no matter how the girl tried to look at it, it was always a waiting game. There was a whirlpool of energy steadily building in the room, she could feel it. And it was funny how furiously the vampire held onto the passing minutes, as if he didn\'t have the choice to retire to his room, away from her, like he probably really wanted.
And as much as the Akari wanted to apologize, she refused, feeling for once that there was no reason for such a thing. After all, hadn\'t he brought this upon himself? What had she done but succumbed to the charm of someone so above her? She was practically defenseless and it wasn\'t fair. Storm still did not see what the big fuss was about in the first place. The only one hurting her now was Damien, drilling angry energy into her skull, and not Pierre, who had given her a more pleasent birthday evening then Damien had.
-
He would not lose. He simply would not. As tempting as the bedroom door was, he would stand his ground against the easy route and fight. He always did.
"If I were to suggest anything, Storm," Damien began wryly, his positionn unmoving and his features set in stone, "it would be to keep that tone of voice to yourself." And there it was, the moment of being a parent. He had used the same line repeatedly to Young Ones, and even on Pierre\'s newest allie, Nikolai, once or twice. He hated it with a passion, using that particular tone against Storm whose stubbornness was grating upon Damien\'s nerves. But he wouldn\'t have disrespect. From anyone. Damien William Evans was not a force to be reckoned with, and whatever thought she may have had that allowed her to think that he was needed to be eliminated immediately.
With the exception of one or two instances, Storm had never seen exactly what the vampire was capable of doing. She had never seen him kill. She had never seen him inflict a punishment directly. She had never seen many of the things that made Damien king in the first place. And he preferred to keep it that way. "I don\'t deserve it and you know that as well as I do.
"You have no idea what is going through my head right now, what it exactly means to me that Pierre has... made an impression, no matter how minute. I couldn\'t care less if you felt anything for him on a constant basis, and that was not my problem." The sentence felt funny to him, awkward to hear out loud. He continued nonetheless. "So I\'m sorry if my reaction was less than what you may have wanted. And I never meant to embarass you or make you angry. Now before we digress, can we simply get over this. I\'m here to keep you company, not give you a reason to go to sleep. I never wanted to argue with you, Storm. I just... reacted."
-
Storm paused while he spoke, refusing to meet his eyes until he had finished speaking. She wasn\'t listening to a single word he had said, really. The girl was enrapt in struggling against her own pride and frustration. No, she didn\'t want to fight about it anymore. But what she could not understand, still, was his reason for having the reaction that he did. Storm could not accept any of the vague reasoning that he was offering to her, feeling it only perpetuate her irritation. But the Akari did not have any desire to drag this conversation out any longer. And that resolution set her placid expression, characterizing her silent, inner-battle and outer-surrender, into place.
"Alright," she replied quietly, looking up at him finally with hard eyes that she had tried in vain to soften. And after a brief moment of silence, the girl shifted her position on the chair and resumed her pencil sketches at a slower pace. Despite her stony exterior, there was chaos in her mind and the tireless urge to fight. The question of why he reacted the way he did pounded mercilessly against her skull and drawing trees seemed to be the only way to nullify it. It would blow over, eventually. And even though the temptation to tell him that he no longer needed to keep her company was strong, silence sewed her mouth shut and she fell into a myriad of thoughts.
What if something did occur between her and Pierre? Based on the initial "plan" that she had been apart of for the past four months, she was supposed to be in charge of this...this army business. And the way Damien was making it sound, he was to be at her side. It was at this thought that she hit a wall in her thinking, as if her mind strongly disagreed with these arrangements. Obviously, Storm had never fully adjusted to the idea that she was "supposed to be" her replacement. Countless times, the elder vampire had made his dissatisfaction painfully clear.
So, if something more grew between her and Pierre, would that mean he would take Damien\'s place? Or would things simply be thrown into chaos? Or perhaps it wouldn\'t matter, maybe this relationship, hypothetically speaking, could work around \'the empire\'. In that case, why would Damien care? If he could still rule, aside from anything that had to do with Storm, then why would he care about anything that could ever happen with Pierre? After all, it was just about the position of power, wasn\'t it? Especially since Damien had made it everlastingly clear that he wanted nothing to do with her as a complete \'replacement\', and would only deal with her on business terms, the current tolerance of her presence having nothing to do with the fact.
So what was going on?
-
He could feel her thinking, hear it as her pencil sketches slowly changed; it was heavy in the air. She wasn\'t letting it go, but this was all that he could think of to do about it. There was no way to forcibly make her thoughts shut up and Damien was finding the temptation to tap into her thoughts quietly quite attractive. Just a taste in order to see what exactly was preventing them here.
It made no more sense to stay in the room with her anymore and the longer his feet remained glued to the floor, the more sleep was calling. He had tried, hadn\'t he? And now he was just pissing himself and probably Storm off. So what was the point in remaining? The only way to salvation looked to be release. Damien sighed, his thoughts turning solemn and his eyes, still set on Storm, running void of any former anger or frustration. Thoughts lingered. Damien had made his decision.
But he was at a loss of what to say to her and Damien felt as though he had certainly said enough anyway. On second thought, Storm, I think I\'ll leave you alone because we obviously have to fight like children for the rest of our time together. He sighed and addressed her in a voice that was much more relaxed, like weary shoulders looking for a plush surface to rest on. "Would you still desire me to help keep you awake?"
-
"No," her reply came quickly without a break in her sketching, "I\'ve kept you from sleep long enough," Storm uttered apologetically with half of the enthusiasm needed to make it seem genuine. There was a vague spark of fear in her mind at the mention of staying awake, especially because this whole ordeal had tired her out significantly. Not that she wouldn\'t fight it, but despite that she would most likely sleep. It had been a full night anyway.
"I can stay awake on my own." It was said more to ease his mind, but came out completely the wrong way. It was a complete lie, after all, but she did her best to hide it. Storm sighed quietly, turning the page in the notebook to start over fresh.
-
He could catch that lie instantly. Damien sighed. "Storm, you relize that you\'re terrible at lying, right?" The thought put a brief flicker of a smile on his face. It returned him to a much simpler time of night when he could look at her easier and see her happiness and not be sick because of it.
And honestly, he worried. It was never a pleasant experience to have to explain to her after a few hours of her sleep that what she experienced was only a dream, a relfection of the past and Laurent\'s arrogance. No, Damien didn\'t want her to sleep. And, no matter how this problem with her affinity towards Pierre ended today, he would bring her to the forest for another night as soon as the sun set. Or something.
Laurent. He was damaging everything about this empire. About his relationship with Storm. About... it didn\'t matter. The fact was that he was there and needed to be destroyed if all this chaos were to eventually settle down in Storm\'s world. No matter what happened, he couldn\'t endanger his regime and especially not his son.
The thought felt off to the vampire. Thinking about Pierre and Storm. Together. It was too weird to him to even imagine. They had both always been alone in Damien\'s existence of knowing both of them and to imagine them together, in love... Damien shivered at the notion. It was just too different.
With a steady pace, Damien\'s featured softened and his legs moved him towards the island deviding the kitchen from the living room, opposite of where Storm sat sketching. "You\'re going to fall asleep. You need to sleep, don\'t you?" He leaned over the counter, a few feet from her with the slightest of frowns on his face.
-
In the midst of a blossoming tree, the pencil stopped. Inhale, exhale. The girl\'s expression was stony and she still did not look up. Yes, the night had been tiring. Yes, she needed the sleep despite the trip to the woods. Yes, she probably would end up falling asleep no mater how she fought. But Storm did not want to dream. Anything but that. Even though her connection to Laurent had been crippled, she still lived in waking fear that something would happen to revitalize it.
"I will not sleep," the Akari stated firmly, looking up to meet his gaze. She felt helpless right now, unable to express her desire for him to stay awake with her. But the discussion that had settled behind them still left a bad taste in her mouth, and she could feel him wanting to leave. At least, she thought he did. Storm didn\'t want to cause him any more discomfort anymore then she already had. She felt like such a child sometimes, despite her stubborn pride. Honestly, she just wanted the free feeling she had before when she was sketching him to return again.
"I\'ll be fine," another lie, ignoring everything he had just said about her deception abilities or lack thereof. Storm\'s eyes fell back to the paper where her pencil had slowly begun to move again, tracing the details of the bark of the tree. "Go ahead and sleep." she urged gently without looking up.
-
Her stubbornness had always been astounding to him. Isabella had been stubborn as well, but when in a much more forceful way than Storm had ever displayed. And it had taken him a while to realize that, to become accustomed to it. "Oh please," he said softly, leaning on the counter. His silver eyes flicked down onto her drawing and then back onto her.
Over the past few months he had become accostumed to her trees and their shapes. He haad had the arguements and dissected the trees she had drawn during them all in order to understand her emotions which never came out otherwise. So when he found her making another tree, Damien could point out exactly where the most amounts of energy had come out due to the viciousness of the lines. But this tree was new, void of a lot of energy that made up other trees. It was a new tree, drawn not two minutes ago and now being traced and reinforced by Storm\'s hand. "What are you drawing?"
And if he could keep her awake for a few moments longer, what was the harm? Even if he did have to walk on eggshells with his tone of voice.
-
The girl paused again, running her hand over the paper as if to feel the tree she was drawing. This one was thoughtful and quietly frustrated. The branches reached outward, slow and thick, as if trying to reach for something but not quite covering the distance needed. Trying to reach some sort of understanding and a sense of calm. But it was still just a tree.
"What\'s it look like," a smile crept onto her face, and instead of feeling invaded by his nearness, she felt a form of comfort settle. Storm did not look up from the lines, adding more texture, more age, more detail to her tree. And each time she had ever drawn a tree was to control and express some sort of emotion or build-up of feeling. They were usually small, never really stretching past the borders of half of the paper. But they did their job. And when the bark of the tree was filled to the bursting with detail, she stopped, leaning back in the chair and looking slowly up at the vampire.
"You don\'t need to say up with me."
-
Damien rolled his eyes at her, a careful smile filtering through his expression as he looked upon her. "I would expect you to like to draw birds more than trees. But I suppose I can see both.
One of these nights I\'m going to get you a sketch book. Of course, I\'m going to have to take you with me. I have no idea which one to buy. Would you like that?" It was honest. He had been meaning to do it for a while; she had burning through the spare log books he had lying around and he was in need of more anyway. She was just giving him a reason. With all her daytime activities channelled into drawing all over the apartment, he was lucky if she kept the notebooks for more than five days without filling them up.
-
Storm brightened considerably at the idea of venturing to some sort of art supply store. And the mere thought of a new sketchbook made her fingers itch to create. "I\'d love it," she said quietly, an easier smile on her face. Was it really this easy for him to get her to smile? The girl pushed the thought aside, leaning forward to flip through the notebook with an elbow on the table.
"I\'d hate to fill up all of your notebooks and walls with these doodles," she smiled again, opening arbitrarily to the first secret drawing of Damien she had sketched. That first portrait with bold and unafraid lines. It wasn\'t exactly a masterpiece, but it still possessed emotion and she had, in effect, captured some of his essence on the milky sheet. Really, Storm could hardly call it a doodle, but her modesty instructed her otherwise.
-
There was something in him that ached silently to keep her smiling. So much tension during the morning; as if he didn\'t have enough tension to deal with outside of his own apartment. The last thing he wanted was more tension, especially with Storm. So any smile he could get her to produce was a good thing and let him relax, and if all he had to do was buy her a sketch pad or two and few sticks of mediums, then Damien was fine.
Damien couldn\'t help but look down at her sketch. His feature froze for a split moment, too fast for Storm to ever have noticed. He was staring down at a sketch of himself, one with strong lines he never knew she was capable of producing. From all the trees she had drawn over their existance together, Damien had begun to think that the Akari was only capable of heaviness and curved, twisted lines.
Of course he could see her stylistic curves and twists within the lines of his own body, but the lines held difference in them somehow. Maybe it was the way the lines seemed so... permanent. Maybe it was the way he saw himself staring back at... himself. Maybe it was the fact that it felt as though she had loved to look at him and knew how he moved, how he acted and remained motionless... It was almost unnerving to him.
"Of course not," he said softly, a smile still lingering just beyond his lips. "Wouldn\'t want any of my children thinking I was full of myself when they walked in, now would I?" Damien scoffed. "They would probably think I was paying you to draw me."
-
Storm displayed a look of faux-shock and her hand flew to the base of her throat. "And I was planning on doing a remake of the Sistine Chapel on your kitchen ceiling." the thought of Damien in the place of Adam in Michaelangelo\'s famous work made her laugh out loud and blush at the same time. She wouldn\'t dare draw him like that, not without a reference. And since the mere thought of him any less clothed then he was now made her feel extremely uncomfortable, it wasn\'t going to happen. But that thought did not linger, and she instead found herself laughing at her own joke. And it felt good, to be free of the tension for a moment.
When the girl\'s laughter slowed and ended with a content sigh, she relaxed and leaned back in the chair, leisurely flipping through the collection of hand studies she had done and the last drawing of him she had finished. In her opinion, the first held much more feeling. Not that she was going to mention that to him at all. There was a shyness to the first one that seemed to boldly transform in certain parts of the sketch. The second one was good, but lacked that.
-
Her joke was completely missed by Damien. It had been a while since he had been to Rome, a few hundred years in fact, and the thought of Adam and God together never occured to the vampire. He laughed simply because he thought the idea was amusing, a low chuckle and an easier smile to match hers.
The cable box in the living room read 9:26 AM, and he was actually awake. Both of them were. It was odd to him, knowing that he was awake and his children were sleeping, that almost every person he knew would be sleeping. The sun was up and he was awake. He had a hard time remembering when the last time such an anomaly had occurred. Alas, it was too long ago.
"So, you think you can stay awake for another ten minutes unaccompanied? Or do you need me to continuously speak so you won\'t sleep?" His expression was gentle and he meant nothing by it, but he did forget to try to walk on eggshells. Damien hoped that maybe he didn\'t have to anymore, now that Pierre was out of the picture. A shower was calling him, now that there was so much time to evade the sun. This way he could at least be ready to go right out as the sun set. Hunger would begin to gather in his throat by late afternoon.
-
"I\'ll be fine for the day," another easy smile, "Thanks." She took no offense to the comment, and stood to stretch. It was a long night, but she could feel her body shifting to be awake for another twenty-four hours. The only help she needed was getting through the early morning, so there wasn\'t anything requiring him to stay awake with her. It wasn\'t like she was planning on doing anything else that was particularly tiring.
"Why, you too tired to stay up any longer?" Storm walked back to the living room, leaving the open notebook forgotten on the table. She glanced in his direction before settling comfortably in the couch. If he was planning to settle down for the day, she could spend the remainder of it meditating. Well, thinking really.
-
Without meaning to, his eyes traced over her body blankly as she stretched, admiring the pulling of muscles and ligaments beneath warm flesh. Quietly as well he admired the natural beauty that she had, the shape of her small frame. Damien pulled his attention away as thoughts of Isabella, as well as others which were not of Isabella, rose to the forefront of his mind. After a moment or so, he remembered how he used to have to do the same thing after a while of remaining still. Stretch.
Nowadays it had no benefits for him, his body as prepared for agility as it would ever be. But as she asked her question, walking by him, he caught a strong waft of her soap that almost made him stumble. He eyed her increduously. "I doubt ten minutes of sleep would be enough to satisfy me if I wanted to sleep, Storm". The vampire smiled and reached for the bedroom door. "Stop trying to get rid of me. All I\'m going to do is shower. Unless you want me to stay in my room for the rest of today, then by all means..."
-
Storm waved him off gently, not feeling a witty come-back at the ready. Nothing more was said as she listened to the door close behind him. Without meaning to, her listening followed his movements around the bedroom, then into the bathroom. The movement made her feel more at ease. It was comforting to know that she was not alone. Even though she would never admit it, the scarce times that he did leave her alone, and even when he was asleep, she felt extremely anxious. It was maddening sometimes.
But not now. The sound of the shower seemed to have a placebo on her tension, relaxing her muscles without the need of the caress of hot water. The girl settled deeper into the couch, not out of sleepiness but merely because she was comfortable. And for once that night, her mind was completely blank as she waited, eyes staring at nothing in particular. It was almost like a vaguely meditative state of mind, similar to lucid sleeping but without the anxiety and dread of sleep. Time passed without her noticing.
-
He wasn\'t particularly fond of hot water; his showers were always lukewarm nowadays finding there no need to burn his ultrasensitive flesh with the desperate need for heat. While heat was nice, he had learned to live out his existence without it\'s luxury.
The shower lasted no more than five and a half minutes, but it was plenty enough time. The water droplets which fell were always so slow even on their highest setting, but Damien enjoyed it hitting his flesh nonetheless. It was always a comfort to be in the shower, but he hardly spent more than ten minutes under the water anyway. Money wasn\'t the issue. Time was.
Time moved so slowly to him now that showering was had turned into a time to be alone with his thoughts. He washed his body, relinquishing all the guilt and shit he had to hold throughout the day and the night. His mind ticked away as he let the water run down overhis scarred body.
It was something he had never wanted to show anybody, especially not Storm. The silver scars that lined his ancient flesh were simply reminders of how human, how vulnerable he really had been. Slash marks from ancient iron swords coated with poison. Diamond patterns from stab wounds. Jagged rips and punctures from a queen\'s lust and desire. Up his arms, across his chest, down to his manhood\'s base, across his legs and back. All as silver as his eyes. Yet she had seen a good majority of them.
The only ones with the priviledge before her were his First Son, and his wife, the one who had made the marks in the first place.
Sure enough, after his five and a half minutes, he was sick of the water, sick of wasting the time of day that he had promised to Storm. He twisted the knob and stepped out, wrapping himself at the waist. Routinely the vampire dried his chest and the necklace there before opening the bathroom door and stepping into the bedroom. He dressed quickly, avoiding the temptation to go and look out the window in broad daylight.
Damien stepped out of the bedroom, drying his hair with a small hand towel, making it stick up in several directions. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt of dark blue and without a logo. There was no need for shoes as of yet. "You know what I was thinking, Storm?" Of course she didn\'t, but he said it anyway, strolling easily up to his former spot, not sitting yet.
-
The sound of the shower stopping brought her from the trance-like state and she couldn\'t help but glance in the direction of his closed bedroom door. By now she was used to how quickly he showered in comparison to her length of time. If it wasn\'t for the fact that he didn\'t need to worry about the water or heating bill so much, she would have felt bad. By the time Damien stepped outside, she wasn\'t looking in his direction anymore.
"Huh?" the question took a second to sink in as she slowly looked up at his face. "No, what. Tell me." How much could he think in the span of five short minutes? Storm couldn\'t hide her smile at the messy state of his hair, like it was some funny joke.
-
Damien settled down in his former spot, giving his hair one more rub with the white towel, nothing to help it settle down. "I was thinking about finding a new place. A new apartment or whatever. You\'ve seen how busy it is here, Pierre, Nikolai, Jack popping in and out at their leisure. And if someone needs to stay a while, then it\'s a pain. No room here.
"This place was only supposed to be a safe-house anyway, somewhere in the city where we can get out of the sunlight if need be. But push came to shove and I ended up landing here for a few months. Then a year. Then a few." Damien\'s eyes wandered around the room, running over all the damages and flaws in the room as he spoke. The idea of moving, of giving the apartment to Pierre or even Nikolai was enticing. "Until finally I was stuck here. It\'s been about seven years in this shitty place. And I\'m just ready to move out..."
-
Storm\'s expression froze. Move? Her mind first went to the drawings all over the walls. She looked at them tenderly as if she were already leaving them. What would become of the pencil sketches? Would they be painted over, forgotten forever? While she knew that they weren\'t anything spectacular, it was still some memory that she wanted to hold in her hand for a little while longer before putting it away with the rest of them.
After a somber moment, hesitant eyes looked up at him again. "So what are you..." Was he leaving her? Kicking her out? "Are you leaving me here then or something?" the girl stumbled ungracefully over her tongue. It was a childish fear of hers, to be left alone. And the fact that he had not said \'we\' at all left her with a feeling of uncertainty. Was he really getting that tired of having her around? She knew he needed his space, and they did fight more often then she would have preferred, but she didn\'t think it would come to this.
The calm that he retained made everything all the more confusing to her. Storm shifted uneasily in her seat, glancing nervously up at her drawings again.
-
He gawked at her throughout her question, completely perplexed by her insinuation that his expression left him with complete befuddlement. Damien looked at her for a moment, finally grasping her interpretation of his statement. "Storm, I wouldn\'t be leaving you behind. I was talking about relocating my apartment, as in both of us moving out of this place and finding a new place. Somewhere where, if anything, you\'d get a room to yourself, that way you\'re not aggitated when the others knock on the door at all hours of the night." He studied her as he explained, wanting to laugh as her cheeks incarnidined while he explained.
Her reaction threw him off. Why would she have such a passionate reaction towards his leaving anyway? Didn\'t she want freedom from this horrid routine of waiting all day and walking on eggshells all night?
"Where would you get the idea of me leaving you behind anywhere?" What benefit would he possibly receive from leaving Storm, the Key, and the only company he had most nights, on her own? Especially with Laurent on the prowl. The thought pulled at him. Damien leaving Storm behind. It was silly.
Damien wasn\'t reluctant to admit that he had become accustomed to having Storm around. He had even grown to like her company. Especially when she smiled. Her scent was all over the apartment, his apartment. Her drawings on his walls. Her strong-smelling hair covering the couches delicately. Yes, it was normal now to pick the strands of hair off of the couch, normal to throw glances at her for spending more time drawing all over his kitchen, to cover his nose as she passed to closely after a shower.
There was some part inside of him that cared for her, worried about her when he woke up and saw her sleeping, wanted to grab onto her arm and pull her off a high ledge. He hated seeing her in any kind of pain, now that he understood that her entire being was pain. So he didn\'t laugh when she suggested such a rediculous notion of leaving her, Storm, behind.
But he couldn\'t supress a slight smile.
-
Storm gawked right back at him for a second before settling into the chair further as red flooded her cheeks. Of, course. You\'re such an idiot! Of course he meant you too! Christ, he can\'t leave you alone unsupervised for a second and you think he\'s about to up and abandon you! For a moment she couldn\'t speak, mind searching frantically for something to say, some explanation for her obvious fear.
But all the girl could come up with was, "Oh, No, I mean... I just... Um," a frustrated sigh, "I didn\'t think... I just thought that..." another agitated sigh and a not-so-smooth aversion of the eye, "I don\'t know." she gave up finally, significantly agitated with herself.
Stupid. You look so stupid right now. He must think you\'re so pathetic. If possible, the shade on her cheeks deepened and she struggled to change the subject, steering clear of her ridiculous assumptions of abandonment. Why the hell did she even think that in the first place?
"So where were you thinking of moving?" the Akari\'s voice had softened significantly and she still avoided looking up at the vampire. Her eyes had settled on a shade to match her cheeks.
-
His smile only widened at the deep blood flooding her face. It awakened the monster that was his Thirst, dormant in the back of his throat. His jaw ached faintly for another taste of Storm\'s blood, so familiar to the Lady\'s but spiced with what he assumed was Akari life. He could smell it, mixed in with her soap and the natural scent of her body and it pulled softly at him. But Damien wasn\'t that weak to be controlled by his Thirst so late in his afterlife.
The fact that she was hiding her face from him was helping. But it was also... cute. He couldn\'t find any other word to describe it, either. His smile continued until he finally cleared his throat and responded to her question. "I\'m actually not sure, to be honest. I\'d like somewhere big. Much bigger than here. I\'d like to have a few bedrooms, and even a house. That way there\'d be no manager poking his nose around when I\'m sleeping, no cop given permission to search around with a flashlight, warrant or not...
"I want something different. Somewhere where the city\'s accessable, but the threats of it aren\'t everywhere. Somewhere with some god-damned privacy."
It was a dream for right now. He didn\'t tell her this, but he wanted something of a headquarters, something he could call his own and run how he wanted to. Something that wasn\'t awkwardly out of place in elegance or demeanor. Somewhere where he and his children could exist without trials and limitations, where they were as free as humans.
-
Storm nodded vaguely, feeling bold enough to \'come out from her hiding place\'. The red had in no way faded completely from her face, but she felt as though she had regained enough of her dignity to resume a somewhat normal conversation with the vampire. She really wasn\'t sure what to say.
More privacy... something inside of her jumped hopefully at the aspect of a change in location. The woods came to mind. Something closer to the woods and out of this damned metal jungle. The Akari missed waking up and seeing trees every day. And with trees so close, there wouldn\'t be a need to sleep so much anymore. A smile began to grow on her face.
And her own room too? The girl could already see it, walls covered in murals and maybe even the ceiling too. And she wouldn\'t have to feel bad about it either. No more sleeping on the couch, having nowhere to angrily storm off to after a fight, and no more constant contact with Damien. Well, not unless the both of them wanted that.
It was all starting to feel so permanent, this whole regime business. And she wasn\'t even sure if she minded all that much anymore. But she hadn\'t had a place to call home since her birthplace. Would he let her call this new place home? Or would there be the same reaction as before?
"So when is this all going to happen?" she couldn\'t hide the excitement in her voice or in her eyes.
-
The vampire exhaled, finally running a hand through his tousled hair in an attempt to manage it. But it didn\'t help, the hair simply sticking in any way it wanted to. But to the commander, it never mattered; it always fell in the same manner anyhow.
"I dunno. Could happen anywhere between a few days and a few months. We\'re in no position to launch any offensive actions against the Oligarchy or the municiple government as of right now. We\'ve no base of operations, nothing of the sort. I mean, I have the financial means to make it all possible, no problem. But it would just extend the D-Day off a bit. How long, I couldn\'t even say."
Finally, the chance for something solid, even if it is a bit pricey. Time and money, that was the only things it came down to. The price of somewhere large enough would put him down a few thousand, but the cistern wasn\'t dry and neither would it be nearing it after this deduction. It was just the matter of how much he wanted to spend on this place. And the time... Well, he had eternity and this blasted city was far from the end of its life cycle. And, along with the major interruptions to his plans, including Storm\'s relentless past, there were other things to focus on besides his assult upon the city.
"But think about it: a place to call \'home\' finally that didn\'t feel so... cage-like." No, he didn\'t mind her calling his house her home any longer. At one point, the vampire hated the sound of it coming out of her mouth, or in any conversation with her. But his house was her home, if she so chose, and Damien had slowly become to accept that. And it was much better than having a good friend call wherever that faggot Zalmric was a home. He would have much rather preferred the way things were right now.
-
Storm hardly heard the whole first part of the vampire\'s speech. She had a tendency to zone out when it came to talking about business--usually because he wasn\'t talking directly to her--which wasn\'t necessarily a good habit to form so early in the game. Her interest was more in what he had said next. About a home. He had said \'home\'. Indicating that she wasn\'t forbidden to think of it as anything less then that.
The girl\'s eyes shimmered at the thought, and she looked down at the floor as her smile grew wider. The silent acceptance on his part had given her a feeling of warmth, an end to whatever feelings of isolation still remained. And after a moment of silent thoughts, Storm looked up at him again with the same smile.
"Yeah. It sounds great." and she meant every ounce of it. The only thing stopping her from suggesting the move now, at this very second, was the sun. That and the fact that there had been really no planning beforehand. But mostly the sun.
-
He watched her think, a habit of his and caught her eyes when she looked up again, containing the contented moment between their eyes. Damien dropped it just before it turned awkward, a feat he had managed to figure out over the nights spent with her. He shuffled himself in some manner, ran another hand through his hand and then let his attention focus upon the diastance of space between his exposed wrist and the edge of the dark blue fabric.
How long had it been since he had been around such... ease? Everything after Isabella\'s death had been so difficult. The running. The hiding. The fighting. The struggle. The Thirst. The control. The search. The relentless, eternal search that had all but dried up after Storm. And after all the running and hiding and fighting and struggles and the whatever else, the calm, the peace was something he hadn\'t gotten used to yet. It had made him extremely uneasy in the beginning, sitting and waiting for things to happen, but he atuned himself to the slower, more gentle rhythm of being with Storm.
Life had begun to settle, if only for a little while. There was a companion in his house, in his presense and someone to watch over, even if it was a different woman altogether. There was just enough differences between them to allow Damien the room to breathe, keeping his relationships separate from each other. He loved Isabella and that would never change. But he was content enough to shove his devotion for his lost sire and wife over just enough to give Storm some breathing room of her own.
Damien smiled. She was smiling. Fading on his face. On hers. "So. Enough about this house. Nothing I can do about it now. Maybe you and I\'ll go out looking tonight. In the meantime, what would you like to do today?"
-
Storm was quiet for a moment, mentally scanning her daily \'To-Do\' list. She already drew enough for the day, so much so that her wrist was cramping. Maybe after a few hours she would be up for it again. But not now. Usually when Damien was asleep, the girl would sit quietly on the couch and meditate for a few hours before picking up a pencil again. But both activities were relatively solitary things that only involved herself. This whole \'interaction\' with him during the daylight hours was new to her, and she hadn\'t really come prepaired. Her eyes scanned the room, as if searching for an answer in the furniture. And then an idea came to her.
"Do you have a deck of cards?" her expression brightened again, but she tried not to look so rediculously cheerful. Her face was starting to hurt from all the smiling.
-
He blinked. Twice. "Like playing cards?" The vampire stood up, his eyes still on hers. It had been a while since he had played cards at all, a few years at the very least.
He crossed to the kitchen, easily the hottest part of the house due to the windows and the daylight pressing against them. He ignored it, searching through a draw he commonly kept several miscellaneous objects in: scissors, envelopes, a spare pack of cigarettes, pins, tape... Needless to say, it was a minute or two before he found the cards, the odds and ends threatening to clatter to the floor. Damien shut the drawer with some difficulty, promising that when he did move, there would be no junk drawers later.
"So what would you like to play?" The thought of playing cards with her made him the slightest bit uncomfortable. If he wasn\'t mistaken, the last time he had played anything at all it was some ancient form of poker. He wasn\'t used to the modern games that she may have been... except War. Of course he knew War. So the thought of playing cards against her came with the slightest tinge of intimidation. He wasn\'t used to losing.
-
Storm watched him sort through the drawer, rethinking her request as soon as he came back with a deck. Damien was how old again? He didn\'t seem like the type that really knew how to play much of anything. What kind of games did they even play back then? But, the fact that he had even returned with a deck was promising. Well, at least he might know how to play something, not that the girl was against teaching him anything new.
"What do you know how to play?" There was a smirk on her face, "How about Crazy Eights?" She loved that game, it was probably the only serious card game; other then War, Go Fish, Old Maid, or Solitaire, that she had mastered. If they were to play, she wasn\'t going to lose. That was for sure.
-
"I\'ve only played it once or twice. A fledgling of Pierre\'s likes it." The deck was in his hands being shuffled faster than any mortal dealer\'s hands in any casino could move. The cards weren\'t as worn as he would have liked, but they did their job, flicking one on top of the other as he shuffled several different ways.
"Eight cards each?" He was dealing them even before she had any type of response, the cards on the table in a few neat piles. Pile, face down. He flipped one card over and signalled for her to go, a brief smile on his face. Damien picked up his own pile of cards and sat there staring at them for a while, refamiliarizing himself with their values in this particular game. A glance up over his cards revealed Storm with a smug look on her face as she slapped down a card, a thick air of confidence about her.
Five of clubs.
The vampire gave his deck a once over before determining that the three of clubs was good enough. He placed it down on the newest pile. "You realize that I\'m a rookie in this game, correct?"
-
Had she been new to the vampiric speed, Storm would have been caught off guard and maybe even surprised by the quickness that Damien dealt. Still, it took a second for it to register that she had been dealt a hand. Slowly she picked up the cards and she scanned the array of red and black, unable to mask the knowing smile on her face. She was going to win. The Akari watched his face intently, looking for any sort of clues in any possible change of expression. Not that she really expected him to give away anything like that. He hardly was that open with what he was thinking.
"Stop making excuses," the girl smirked, placing down a three of diamonds in response to its clubbed brother, since really, she only had one club. Not that Damien had any way of knowing that. Whatever worked out in her favor was fine. The exchange of cards was rather harmless in the beginning of the game. Every now and then there would be a series of one single number as one battled for their suit of choice. Six of diamonds meets six of clubs meets six of spades. Occasionally an eight would jump in and confound whoever was expecting it the least. No Aces or Twos were fired off back and fourth in a war like manner. Not yet. At least not until there were three cards remaining in her hand.
"Your turn." Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she snapped down a ten of diamonds, but her face was much calmer as though she didn\'t have a trick up her sleeve. Too easy.
-
In his hands he had approximately a fifth of the deck. The majority lay in the discard pile and about seven lay in the pile he was to pick from if he could only figure this blasted game out. Several times had he mistaken one card for another, slapped down the wrong suit and forced to pick up several times. Now he was stuck. After how many years of warfare, he couldn\'t even figure out a simple card game?
Damien had a miscellaneous hand, nothing dominating or empowering in any way. A few clubs, two spades, four hearts, and one diamond: a nine. He could feel her eyes on him, smiling with that cockiness he had never seen from her as she casually waved around her three cards. So what could Damien, the forever-soldier and competitor do but try to out wit her?
He searched through his deck and placed down an eight. "Hearts," he said, then slapped down the King, without even thinking once of using the Ace under his ring finger to make her pick up four cards -- or was it two -- in order to extend his game life. And of course Damien only realized this after he had put the card down and saw Storm in her approach to the drawn pile.
-
"Oh no, not hearts." Storm did nothing to suppress her grin, much less her sarcasm, but when Damien placed down another card out of turn, she frowned. "Take that back," she picked up the King, placing it in between a few of the cards that were already in his hand. "I thought I\'ve explained it to you before. You don\'t put down a card after an eight. Only after you make me pick up or skip a turn." She rolled her eyes.
Eying her own trio of cards, the girl made it look like she were actually spending a great deal of time and effort contemplating her next move. But she had already planned out everything down to the last card she would throw. The Akari always managed to finish the game with the same card, the same moves, and the same quick win. Too easy.
Air thick with arrogance, the girl snapped down a Jack of Hearts, followed by a Nine of Hearts, "Last card." Storm looked up at him, a faux look of innocence playfully plastered over her boastful features. His next move wouldn\'t matter, she was going to win anyway. She knew as well as he did that all of the helpful diamonds had already been played and were nestled contently within the pile of discarded cards.
Storm waited patiently for his next move, fingering her precious "finisher" as if she were nervous he might try to change the suit on her.
-
He grumbled and loosely imitated her out of pride, something he hadn\'t done in a few years at the very least. Damien found it easier to do to her, even though he couldn\'t help but cast a glance up at her over his cards to view her reaction. It was absurd to him how foolish he could look and not care about it around her. Even one simple display of his relaxed self was comfortable for the soldier who was always so cold and closed off from emotion for the sake of others. By God, he was even playing cards with her and she was teaching him! The absurdity of the notion almost made him laugh out loud as his silver eyes flicked absently over the number of cards in his hand.
Damien put down the King of hearts, that card she had just handed back. There was no sense in trying to fool her or give her a glimpse into the rest of his hand; it was obvious he was about to lose the game. Perhaps he could stall.
After all, it was only an eight-to-one ratio.
-
His response to her instruction did not invoke any sort of reaction from her. The girl was too lost in the thrill of winning to pay any attention to what Damien was doing. She had become accustomed to his antics by now, and even something so childish did not surprise her. It was simply thrilling to finally beat him at something for once.
She took her time examining her cards, taking an obnoxiously long time to place down a card. The Akari glanced up at him, watching his face for any sort of reaction before dealing her final blow. With her thumb and index finger, she picked up her final card and snapped it down onto the table with more modesty in her face then she had shone throughout the entire game.
Eight of Spades. The gracious-winner-facade slowly crumbling, Storm grinned with triumph, stretching her arms over her head and flexing her back before returning to her former position. "Should I have gone easy on you?" her grin had not subsided, even as she spoke, gathering the cards into a neat deck.
"Are you ready to lose again or what?" the playfulness in her attitude was the only thing keeping her from genuine arrogance. This was the most fun that she had with him in awhile.
-
The nine-hundred-and-forty-five-year-old vampire, officially one year older as of the dead-center of December, glared at the girl and puckered his lips slightly, controlling the urge to say something out of spite. He ran his tongue over his teeth in aid, a smirk in his eyes. He wasn\'t actually mad; simply astounded by the fact that a mortal had actually beaten him at something.
But this would never deter him from such a challenge. "Bring it on, kid."
---
It was noon before he was ever aware of it. He had won the second game, which had carried on for ages with himself always on the border of losing, but, of course, he lost the third one, and the one after that. Now, in their fifth game, Damien stared down at his cards with an easier smile on his face. Few words of good nature had passed between them, yet several glares and arrogant glances had been discreetly (and obviously as well) passed between them. Again he was on the losing end of the game and the thought made him furrow his brow. Damien could feel Storm\'s excitement clearly enough, noticing the slightest shift in her eyes color from the corner of his eye.
They must have been sitting there for hours without moving, and while it was nothing concerning for Damien, he was surprised that Storm hadn\'t wanted to stop as of yet. For Christ\'s sakes, she had been sitting intently with no significant motion, she may as well have been immortal, and honestly Damien was expecting her to give in and raid the fridge or something, like other mortals would.
"It\'s noon," he said off-handedly, without looking over at the clock. He could feel the natural pull of the sun\'s motions above his head. It was one of the most oppressing times of the day for him or any other vampire for that matter. At noon, with the sun directly overhead, it always felt as if a few more pounds of atmospheric pressure had been added. His flesh felt warmer than usual during noon (which was part of his defense for always chosing to sleep nude), and being awake during these hours gave him the sensation of wanting to perspire without that nasty wetness. Damien rotated his shoulder and put down a few cards. The ace of clubs, the two of clubs, the king of clubs. "Pick up four, pick up two".
-
Storm\'s expression fell with the sudden turn of events, not that she was anywhere near to being in the lead. Well, in her opinion anyway. Her group of cards had proven to be a little more then terrible, and she wondered if Damien had cheated when dealing in order to give himself the upper hand. After all, he could move fast enough. It had taken her a significant amount of time to chisel her card count back to four single cards, none of which were currently clubs. When picking up six cards yielded no fruit, she went for the seventh, then eighth, then the ninth, before she finally tossed her cards onto the table in temporary defeat.
"I need a break," the girl muttered darkly, standing and flexing her back that had grown uncomfortably tense. Her eyes flickered between the table and Damien before she retreated to the kitchen, legs still stiff from the hours of sitting. How many games had they played so far? She had won most of them anyway.
The cold draft of air from the open refrigerator made her shiver as she reached inside to take an apple. Red delicious, crisp and fresh with the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness. The entire refrigerator was stocked with them, along with apple juice and the occasional small stash of chilled blood (the former being the only liquid she would touch). Leaning her back against the closed door of the refrigerator, she bit into the apple with a crunch louder then she would have preferred, watching the nearly invisible mist of apple spray in front of her.
"I think I\'m done. You keep loosing, it\'s no fun playing with you." Storm grinned in between bites, walking slowly to the island that divided the living room from the kitchen. It was nearly astonishing to her that the vampire had even bothered to stay up this long, playing card game after card game with her. Wasn\'t he sick of it already? The Akari, still munching on the bloody colored fruit, took a seat on the chair, thumbing idly through a stack of older sketches that had been pushed to the side against the wall.
-
Damien scoffed and withheld his comments, a feat for the vampire. Instead he followed her with his eyes with that tinge of wounded pride. Of course he\'d be sour. In his entire life, before and after his vampirism, he had never lost to someone inferior or younger than he was, even if it was just a game of cards.
"You know, I could be the asshole here and fire off some comment if I really wanted to," he said, with rising defensiveness, "but I\'m trying to be a legitamately good person!"
-
"Yeah, sure, I bet," she responded without looking up from her sketches. Storm took another bite and continued with a half-full mouth, "You probably can\'t think of anything to say at all." Swallowing her mouthful she looked up at him, still grinning, leaning forward with her elbows on the tabletop.
"You are the sorest loser I\'ve ever met. It would be so much easier for the both of us if you had the capacity to graciously accept your defeat," she couldn\'t hold back a chuckle, and took another bite from the apple. "I promise I won\'t breathe a word of how many times you lost to any of the boys. Not even Pierre," she laughed easily again, eyes sparkling with a mixture of arrogance and humor.
-
He rolled his eyes at her, turning to face her. "You say that as if any of them, including Pierre, would care about such a trifling matter."
Truth be told, he didn\'t want anyone to find such things out, especially not Pierre. By God, his first born would never let him live the defeat down! Even now he could see Pierre grabbing him by the neck and rubbing a knuckled-fist against his scalp in an iron grip that even Damien had trouble breaking. He dreaded the thought.
"Besides, I\'m sure you know that if you ever dared expose something about me, my dear," he said with a mischeivious smirk on his face, "I can expose you just as easy." Ah, leverage, how sweet you are.
-
"Oh, please, you don\'t have anything on me." Storm rolled her eyes, nibbling on what remained attached to the core of the apple. What did she have to hide, anyway? Well, that Damien would dare to share with anyone. Surely nothing that occurred in her past. That was a strict secret between the two of them (the little detail that the vampire did know of her). The only secret that was left was...
Pierre... Her expression faltered for a moment at the thought. Of course, her little crush on Pierre; the very thing that she had just begged him not to give away. The girl\'s expression recovered quickly, becoming something more passive and eager to change the subject.
"Regardless, I still beat you." the Akari said finally, as if to close the topic to further discussion.
-
Again the vampire scoffed at the girl. "Don\'t bullshit me. We\'re square now. One and one, kiddo." He smiled at her.