Author Topic: Oil and Water  (Read 11798 times)

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Offline Harlequin

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Oil and Water
« on: June 25, 2012, 11:16:39 AM »
Ami arrived at Glitter beach about half an hour after Cicero had departed, with newly-brewed coffee (black, and stronger than death) stored in a carafe slung across her back and lungs burning with the half-pack of cigarettes she'd sucked down. But he must've heard her, because the second the bike was shut off there was a pulling sensation at the back of her brain, and an uninvited image to go along with it. A spit of sand sheltered – and nearly closed off – by the cliffs, with the lighthouse directly above.

Though the sensation caused a pained wrinkling at the corners of her eyes, she followed the tug of the vampire's mind on hers. The sensation reminded her of having her hand tugged on – insistent, but not painful. This way.

She'd parked about halfway down the beach from where the lighthouse towered above, but it didn't take her long to lope her way over the dunes. At least, not after she took off her boots, tying them by the laces and slinging them over her shoulder.

It was like this that she met Cicero again – barefoot, shorts traded for faded black jeans, but otherwise the same as he'd left her. When she reached her destination the tug lessened like slack in a line, and the tension faded from her face. She said nothing. Even if he wasn't facing her, she trusted he'd know she was there.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #1 on: June 26, 2012, 09:17:16 PM »
Cicero had already set up an easel and paints.  He'd chosen to use oil paints, favoured mostly for his familiarity with the medium.  He was already mixing colours when Ami was close enough to call out to him.  He'd attached her to him like a fish on a line and had gently reeled her in, suspecting the experience would be one she wouldn't approve of.  He didn't want to mess with her head too much, not when her thoughts were so colourful and vibrant.  Her memories were like superimposed photographs of overly bright colours and stark black and white reality.  Her gritty realistic psyche couldn't shadow or suppress her creative flair.  She wasn't artistically broken, like so many of the truly creative were.

Strip down and roll about on the sand, he asked of her, not bothering to look over his shoulder at her.  He could see her well enough peripherally, and could certainly see her mind clearly.  Her mental instinctive reaction flummoxed him enough for him to turn his head and look at the expression on her face to see if there was a hint.  A lot of times there wasn't, but perhaps this time there would be.  I want texture, he explained matter-of-factly, before she could do more than stare at him.
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Offline Harlequin

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #2 on: July 02, 2012, 01:42:26 PM »
The instinctive mental reaction Cicero received was about equivalent to the sudden physical withdrawal he'd gotten when he'd touched her face earlier. He'd hit another one of her invisible fences. 

Sure, Ami was more bare to him then she had ever been, perhaps, to anyone – and she understood that – but her mind rebelled against the idea of letting him see her nude. Did he not remember the shower scene? She'd almost tried to shank him the last time he'd found her so vulnerable.

When he looked, he'd find one sculptured eyebrow raised, and her shoulders hunched slightly forward as if against a stiff breeze – though there was none.  "Clothes are texture."

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #3 on: July 03, 2012, 08:50:16 PM »
You will not be taken advantage of, he sent to her mind, a light smile on his lips and a tendril of amusement wrapped around his thought.  Only when his hair was ruffled by the playful fingers of the ocean breeze did he realise there was another dimension to her protest.  Is it too cold?

He didn't feel such things; he didn't have need for sweaters or summer clothing, and only wore what he did to better conform to the public surroundings.  Even so he didn't mingle with crowds unless he had to, for his skin was quite pale and his tolerance quite low, and he was bound to run into some idiot or other that begged for their head to separate from their body.  Mortals were bad but young vampires were worse, for their arrogance tended to show first and they were rarely polite or respectful.

This musical creature, though, this Ami... was hardly worshipful of him, as the lovely thing he found in Risk, but she was respectful due to her understanding of his dangerous nature, and he knew she would be cautious in testing her boundaries.  Nudity might be one, but it also might be the cold.  He waited to find out which.
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Offline Harlequin

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #4 on: July 18, 2012, 11:22:24 AM »
Considering her options, Ami looked away from Cicero, out toward the churning sea. You won't be taken advantage of not I won't take advantage of you. Cute.

She could lie, but that wouldn't get her anywhere. She'd flat-out refused to back down about the cigarettes and that hadn't gotten her dead, why should this? It seemed like such a trivial thing, comparatively. She got to choose what went into her body – Why shouldn't she get to choose who saw her body?

That prickled worse than the salt on the breeze. How much was she already letting him dictate?

She shoved down the wave of distaste, calming herself. He hadn't made her do anything yet, dammit.

"No," she answered finally, shrugging her boots off her shoulder. They hit the sand with a soft 'whoomph'. It wasn't the temperature that bothered her.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #5 on: July 20, 2012, 11:17:10 AM »
She looked over the ocean and he felt a tumultuous storm within her as she puzzled things out.  Swirls of emotions mixed and married and repelled.  Her mind was the canvas he wished to paint and he understood from her hesitation in giving him her answer that it wasn't too cold, that she was trying to decide whether or not to lie to him.  It would be interesting to see which way she went.

He was satisfied with her answer, but had more questions for her that might be answered quickly or slowly, depending on her perception.

Do you wish to deny me?  Are you uncomfortable revealing yourself in my presence?  I make for a good friend.

He left the other option unsaid.

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Offline Harlequin

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #6 on: July 23, 2012, 02:50:18 PM »
Another three things were thrown her way in quick succession, but not at an overwhelming speed this time. She was getting used to this mental communication thing. The bassist dug her toes further into the sand. For something to do with her hands, she swung her canteen from around her back and unscrewed the lid (which doubled as a cup) and then the under-lid.

Do you wish to deny me?
What an odd question. The phrasing reminded her of an old film she'd been forced to watch in Sunday School as a child (Before the cock crows you will deny me three times.) Irrelevant. She pushed at one of her lip piercings with her tongue. That wasn't what she wanted, but it was a byproduct of what she wanted. Or didn't want.

Are you uncomfortable revealing yourself in my presence?
She was uncomfortable simply IN his presence, much less nude. As soon as she'd had the thought, she scratched it. He didn't make her uncomfortable – not like he had before, at least. She poured herself some coffee and took a long draught.

I make for a good friend.
That one stopped her, brain paused like a cursor blinking on a blank screen. Is that what he was after? To be her friend?

That...had not occurred to her.

She pushed it aside.

No. It was a matter of artistry: sure, it'd make a nice picture, Ami naked and roling in the sand, whatever – but that wasn't her. Like everything that had happened between them so far, it came down to one question: Did Cicero want Ami like he wanted her to be, or did he want her like she was?

She drained her little cup. "Yes," She said, after another long pause, answering both his questions and acknowledging his statement with the single word. Begrudgingly, she realized that she actually enjoyed this mode of communication. He understood everything that went on in her head, with less talking than normal. Invasive? Yes. Efficient? Even more so.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #7 on: July 26, 2012, 02:06:20 PM »
Her mind cocked at an angle to eye off the 'friend' part he'd mentioned, like a seagull inspecting what might be a tasty meal.  She didn't scoff it down but rather thought about her identity.  Colours, music and vivid imagery (though strangely in black and white) met his own mind as he plundered hers, and her response made him first smile and then share his amusement into her mind.  He beamed at her and even took in breath to laugh, though it was silent.  The fact she invoked such a physical response made him like her all the more.

Then make yourself familiar with the beach as you deem appropriate, he instructed, and his mirth gave way to seriousness as he began to focus on his canvas and the paints at hand.  Before she'd even started doing anything, he began to paint.

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #8 on: August 04, 2012, 08:42:23 PM »
Ami found herself smiling back at him, though her expression was a fleeting one that showed only half her teeth. Maybe this could work out after all.

Apparently she also found this new set of instructions tolerable, because she complied without complaint. Turning to face the ocean, she inhaled the salt smell deep into her lungs – and coughed it out, a smoker's cough, fist raised to her mouth in a gesture almost as practiced as those she used to light up. But then she was moving.

Coming to rest in a patch of sand strikingly silvered by moon, Ami sat heavily, elbows on her knees. She dug her carafe into the sand next to her, and turned her face slightly toward the cliffs, though her eyes remained in the artist. She went still – stiller than she'd ever been in their time together; no fidgeting, no playing with her hair or a cigarette, just an odd and utter stillness that signified she was ready.

It was a striking picture she gave him, though likely not the one he'd expected. Her posture was slightly defensive, her expression shutered. But in her eyes was more interest and openness than she'd shown in anything he'd said or done so far.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #9 on: August 05, 2012, 11:18:10 PM »
He stared at her, at her stillness, the way her thoughts brightened like a rainbow while the rest of her shut down.  It was fascinating, enlightening, amazing and impressive.  He wanted to do nothing but look at her.  He wanted to swallow her whole.  He wanted to bury himself into her and merge himself with her.  Not to plunder, no, not any more, but to join with her, to dance along her rainbow of colours and see the world using her mind.

Instead, he used the charcoal first, outlining what part of her he wished to paint.  He was very quick to capture her, though didn't need to be.  With a few strokes here and there he had the important bits.  At first he used his fingers to spread the paint upon the canvas, his nails etched a path in the paint that was dolloped generously on the canvas.  He moved onto brushes, and ended up with paint on himself and in his hair and around his mouth as he held brushes in his paint-covered hands, in between his teeth, transferring paint into his hair in order to get it out of his eyes, slicking it back with blues and yellows and reds, wiping hands and brushes on his clothes.  It took him five minutes to get all the paint he needed on the canvas, but half an hour to complete it, editing and finishing as he wished.  Once he was done he left it behind in order to walk over to her, hungry to consume all that she'd stirred in him.
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Offline Harlequin

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #10 on: August 05, 2012, 11:38:51 PM »
Oil was not an easy medium to work, but Cicero had clearly mastered it. Probably centuries ago. Watching him, Ami held her pose not through concentration, but simply because all of her focus was absorbed in him. The perpetual boredom that had earlier dampened the surface of her brain was gone, swept away in the stroke of his brushes and the supernatural deftness of his hands.

What should have taken months took moments, and suddenly he was advancing on her, all the colorful godliness of him. Like something straight out of a vivid dream, all paint-swept and too perfect to be real. For another moment, watching him was all she could do, lips parting on a long exhale as her heart thrummed in her chest.

But then she saw that hunger, and she was on her feet. The fear was back.

Though...that hunger wasn't for her life, it was plaintive. He wanted her as her, maybe, or maybe she just wanted...Whatever. IT didn't matter. As soon as it had come, the terror evaporated and Ami, for the first time, stepped forward to meet him.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #11 on: August 06, 2012, 12:17:33 AM »
He met her with passion, with force, though he'd been with mortals enough to automatically and unconsciously hold himself back from hurting her.  What she stepped forward into was an embrace and a kiss.  He melded his paint-tinged mouth with hers, tasting her smoke and no longer caring, not now, when he felt like this.  She was colour and light and creation and life, and he wanted to absorb that into himself.  Blood wasn't the way to do that, he knew, because she was passion and music and art.  His tongue frolicked with hers, one hand at the small of her back, another holding her neck to support her as he kissed her hard, and he could feel her mind sparking in a different way to how it had been before.  Those sparks and ripples and waves were what he was creating in her, affecting her, and he wanted to know what her orgasm looked like.

He dropped to his knees, taking her with him, listening to her breathing through her nose and feeling the pounding of her heart against his chest, through the clothing.  He was pressing himself against her completely, and she was likely to feel his hardness pressed against her stomach.  He tried now to get his hands directly upon her skin beneath her clothing, to caress and feel the shape of her breasts, to thumb her nipples and to guage her excitement and willingness.
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Offline Harlequin

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #12 on: August 06, 2012, 01:46:27 PM »
Many of Ami's encounters ended with a snort of derision and a swift exit when a lover asked her to slow down; not to bite (or push or hit) so hard – and that was one thing that could be said for vampires. For all Cicero held back, Ami gave everything. Her fingers twined into his paint-slicked hair and tightened, hard enough to hurt a human, and her other had found its way under the hem of his shirt, nails digging for purchase as her knees hit the sand. Her mouth opened under his, lips crushed together as they explored one another with equal fervor.

Then his cold hands found the white heat of her skin and she growled, moving her lips over his cheek, nipping and licking when she found his jawline. She hoped briefly that the pigments heavy and slick around his mouth wouldn't poison her – and knew immediately from the burning in her throat that they already were.

"Fuck," she grunted, and the hand that had found its way to his chest was suddenly shoving him hard, away from her. If he let her go – and the alarm bells of pain and sickness ringing red in her brain would tell him that this was a good and necessary choice – she would find her feet only enough to stagger to the water's edge, where she would drop back to her knees to scrub the paint from her lips with seawater, one arm crossed tight over her clenching gut.

Offline Trillian

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #13 on: August 06, 2012, 03:23:54 PM »
He liked the way she came at him, all brutal and savage.  It was much like her mind; uninhibited, rare.  He grunted when her nails dug into his skin while the pressure from his hair being pulled just added to the sexual frenzy.

At first he was confused when she pushed him away, for it was sudden and different to everything else she'd done.  He moved back and allowed her to stumble to the surf, gagging.  It was the sound she made that helped him to realise what had gone wrong.  He was irritated by both her reaction to the paint and the fact he'd grabbed oils instead of non-toxic acrylics.  He'd gone with what he knew best rather than what would be most suitable.

He joined her at the water's edge and crouched beside her.

Drink the salt water.

It would help her to evacuate the oils (and anything else) from her system.
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Offline Harlequin

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Re: Oil and Water
« Reply #14 on: August 06, 2012, 03:44:39 PM »
This time, she did as instructed without question. She fell to her knees in the water, brought the sea to her lips with a cupped hand and drank deep. She was soon retching – evacuating her stomach into the surf, which carried the effluent gratefully away, and not right back over her wrists.

Thankfully, the only thing she'd consumed was coffee (and recently at that), so that part was soon over and she was left bent, sweating and panting as the ocean rolled around her knees. Once the last of the cramps had subsided, she pulled a hand out of the sand with a faint sucking sound and rinsed the sour taste from her mouth with more seawater.

"Fuck," she said again, wiping a hand over her sweat-damp brow before flicking the excess water from her fingertips. Her hands were steady.

She took a moment and a few more deep breaths before she looked at him again, eyes shadowed by her damp bangs. Her mind wasa fractured kaleidescope of confusion as the haze of red faded.

"I should go," she said abruptly. With a shake of her head, she stood – and, failing to account for the ordeal she'd just put her body through – almost immediately lost her balance and fell back to her knees.

Should go, maybe. Could go? That might be a few minutes.