Prince of the Damned|LeMarc|Head Butler|Half-Demon|Tagged: ArianeThe half demon grits his teeth, already feeling hellfire start to stir in his veins as he listens to every word the young miss speaks. This was not the time or place to spontaneously combust, and with his current irritation it was a true risk. With some quite impressive self control, he eases his foot off the gas and lets the car slow. "I do not think you understand how self-destruction is conducted." He says in a surprisingly even tone. "Yes, child, you are allowed to hurt yourself and test your own mortality as you please. Your life is, and always will be, ultimately in your own hands. However, this does not, under any circumstances, mean your actions do not have consequences. Just because you can hurt yourself does not mean you only hurt yourself." He keeps his eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, and body focused on leveling his breathing. Best not to get too angry, especially when his emotions were so closely tied to his demonic tendencies. He likes this car.
"I am not your guardian. I do not want to be, and would consider such a chore to be beneath me. I am effected by your stupidity, though. I had to take time out of my extremely busy schedule to venture out into a town I despise just because you decided to test your own body and failed. Had you not called your uncle and asked for assistance, had you dealt with the problem yourself, or even not made the issue in the first place I would have no reason possibly care about your little dalliance into town. But," He slows the car to a stop at the side of the road, "If you are so sure in your maturity, in your 'ability to take care of yourself', by all means get out of the car and walk yourself back." The door facing the woods springs open on its own, a rare show of LeMarc's supposedly weak, and limited telekinesis. "We are still a good while away from the manor. I am sure an hour of walking will not do you too much harm, child." He adds finally, sardonic and rich in malice.
Resident Scholar|Franz Joseph|Attic Hermit|Vampire|Tagged: Arthritis
- "It is not uncommon for winter to be disliked." Dr. Francis Joseph states, keeping his eyes locked with the large man, even as he continues to scratch notes on the pad of paper in his lap. "It is a natural time of death." Personally, he had always enjoyed winter. Pleasant holidays with his family, long nights and grey skies. The cold stopped hurting years ago, almost a century since he felt it. His opinion was not often shared. "I once met a child who was born on the coldest of winter nights. So cold that his heart froze right where it was, in his chest. The doctors were able to save him, but...The mind does not recover the same way a wound does." He could still remember the fear in that child's eyes. "It's fascinating to see when someone faces what they believe to be death. It is a moment of pure clarity into their heart."
He can almost hear the wind.
"I'm certain there is more to your fear than the barrenness winter creates. Everything has a root cause, which from itself ignites a reaction that falls until the end goal is complete. Your reluctance to share more intimate details of your emotions makes this more difficult. There is so much at stake." His pen stops writing, dangling in his hand in a loose grip. "So much." Franz Joseph's eyes glaze over. The pen drops with a clatter.
"Charles?" He murmurs. The moment is gone.
Lady of the Lake|Eadgyd|Edith|Homeless|Kelpie|Tagged: Wendy
- The menacing light fades from the kelpie's gaze as her prey announces surrender. Eadgyd tempers her smile to a grin at most, and steps back. "Lovely to meet you. Wendy. Spike." She nods once to each of her new 'friends', "See you around." She winks, her very obvious threat lingering. She'd be watching.
The local corner witch turns, her shawls and scarves swaying in a wind that seems to be picking up, a strong and humid wind that foreshadows the possibility of rain later. A prelude, coming before the gray clouds in the distance. It is not a misty day, but as the young woman climbs back over the wall of the local graveyard, a heavy fog seems to roll in from the south, closing in as she steps among the gravestones until it envelopes her completely. The last trace of Eadgyd is a glint of two green eyes, and then she is gone.
