Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Printable Version
+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Archives (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=72)
+--- Forum: Incomplete (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=85)
+--- Thread: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books (/showthread.php?tid=491)
+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Archives (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=72)
+--- Forum: Incomplete (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=85)
+--- Thread: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books (/showthread.php?tid=491)
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 11-21-2015
Everyone was behaving and not behaving—a most usual state of affairs. At the very least, Rhys was not unintentionally accosting their newest guest. Elijah to wonder why his Little Fox—an affectionate title he was not often in the habit of thinking of him as much anymore—would ever imagine that a bookstore was a good idea, a good venture. People, at some point, would begin to wonder if he were running some kind of literary brothel. One in which the proprietor only ever made money from the sale of actual books and not intercourse.It occurred to him as he moved things into the floor and away from the small table and settee, that he was being watched by The Cat. It felt to him as though she wasn’t certain what to do with herself. Given that he had no real need to do anything about it, much less be bothered about it, he went on as he was.
Though, once the books were cleared away, he moved to retrieve his coffee. When he turned, Rylan had already taken a seat. He briefly adjusted his glasses before taking the space next to her, albeit with the proper spacing between them. Then he sat back, crossing one ankle over a knee, and sipped his coffee.
“What is it you wish to ask me about then?”
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 12-14-2015
«No men, as of late,» she admitted with an airy tone, tugging at the ends of her gloves. A habit that was mostly an afterthought, and she flicked at one of the buttons on the cuff, before leaving them be and tucking her hands back into her lap. «I have found, in your absence, that none of them are nearly as considerate as you are, love.» An implication; a private joke, as always, though there had never been anything between them.
«I do not much care for that one,» Adelphie said, before pursing her lips, and sitting straight in the chair. She changed the subject and ignored the innuendo, therein. Of all their intermittent time together she had managed not to meet Elijah until this very day, and they'd made a terrible impression on one another. «I liked the other one,» she continued, vaguely. She hummed in thought, and cocked her head to the side before she held her hand at a level to indicate height. «Small.» She mostly meant short, but they were both very tall, so small was unfortunately fitting. «And stubborn. Very stubborn. Oh, and that adorable accent. What was his name?» Wide, blue eyes settled on Jean for assistance, unaware of the sore spots she was potentially prodding.
Adelphie seemed to perk as he defended himself and his modest shop. With all his talk he was almost convincing, but she knew better than to take most anything he said at face value. «I refuse to believe books are what you were selling to that kitten, all cute and coy. You'd have found better things to do with her even if she were looking for a book, besides, it is not my fault you are so easily distracted.»
The last was said behind her glass, behind more sips of wine that were becoming mouthfuls as she decided she would not be policed. When the liquid was drained she held her glass out to him for more, a perked eyebrow implying he was not to refuse.
«Then we are going out, yes?» Adelphie's brow furrowed, for she was truly puzzled that he would bother mentioning dinner and then not accommodate for it. It at no point, thus far, had occurred to her that more had changed about him than just his hair. In her bout of nostalgia, she had mostly planned to show up and have all their previous antics fall easily into routine once more. Adelphie was bored to say the least, and bored and immortal typically did not mingle well.
«We will just say that I do not spill things on accident.» She wiggled her glass at him, expectantly.
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 12-14-2015
Rylan continued to watch him, ears pushed forward, eyes tracking him in the small space he moved around in. He was diligent, methodical even, movements were not wasted. It was…unsettling. She had not considered the consequences of being alone with Elijah; he was typically too intense for her to handle when she was hiding behind Jean, and now she gone and agreed to be alone with him. Hmm.
The more he cleaned, in what seemed like annoyance as opposed to actual duty, the more her question got caught behind her teeth, all clenched tight. The tips of her ears tingled in her nervousness, tail curled against the line of her spine that was a rod of perfect posture.
The way he adjusted his glasses made her nervous.
The list of things that made her nervous was admittedly very long.
He sat next to her, a respectable distance between them as he got into a position that resembled comfort. Rylan's tail bristled, the silver fur puffing up and she hoped he didn't notice. Her fingers curled around the edge of the seat, knuckles turning white, clinging as she was known to do.
"What?" A singular word, more of a squeak, springing forth before she could organize her thoughts into something useful. She blinked at him, ears falling lopsided. A second passed. "Oh. Oh. Yes." She paused, eyes falling away from him to sweep over the books he had organized. She was faltering, losing her momentum as more time passed.
"Why do you think you are different from them," she asked, suddenly, ears pushing forward. She looked at him again, elongated canines having pushed into her bottom lip. "Miss Rhodes, uhm, she called them pets," she clarified, having realized her previous lack of clarity, though her choice of wording implied that she also thought of herself differently. "Why are you different from... this," she pulled one hand from the bench, to gesture shortly in the space before them.
That was a mess, and probably wildly inappropriate, and she probably should have thought this out better. But here they were, because clearly he didn’t hate her enough already.
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 01-16-2016
As the The Cat took her time in answering he sipped from his coffee genteelly. His gaze did not meet hers, for he did not think it would be protocol to bother her with the intensity his gaze sometimes harbored—most especially when he was still dealing with the internal side effects of anger. Grigori were never very good with anger, or being upset for too long in earnest. Mild annoyance was one thing, especially when one wasn’t fully one’s self. It also didn’t help that his impression of her thus far was that of every other vagrant passerby who got swept up in Jean added with a niggling sore spot that was woven in—something that ached and had never fully healed. No... no... it wasn’t so much the fact that she was just another liaison. It was the sore spot she inflamed in Jean.He hesitated as she finally spoke, asking ‘what’, and considered repeating his query. But then she went on, recalling on her own. He did notice the bristling—what and odd and emotive thing to do. She really did wear her feelings on her tail and ears. One did need a sense for emotions to know what was going on for her. She’d probably be terrible at both poker and chess.
And then the question did come, though not without some tumbling of the English language. With the question came the flex of his jaw. It wasn’t personal, and he considered lying... but... it had never felt right even when he had to. It had been a long time since anyone had attempted to ask him anything anyway—outside of need. If he’d bothered considering the reason, hypocritical bastard he was, it might have occurred to him that it was quite brave of The Cat to ask him anything at all. No one ever really tried asking him anything because of the cold steel wall he’d erected with snide comments carefully laden behind polite veneer. Always too cordial to really upset most people, but too callous to have anyone warm up to him. Warm was not a word ascribe to Elijah. Usually. At least, it had been a long time, discounting Jean—perhaps.
“Pets are kept things,” he began, his voice not unkind but not entirely without distain. “Often not by choice.” As if anyone could truly chain a Grigori; he’d love to see them try. “I am here because I choose to be; I have remained because it is my choice.” It went without saying... that he did not expect Jean to express any appreciation for his staying, for his returning. He did it because he wanted to. If asked to explain why he wanted to...
...a much more complicated answer, he supposed. His eyes softened as the thought hit him briefly, as it usually did from time to time.
Another sip and he cleared his throat. “The ones she refers to,” the bloody witch, “are like leaves on an ancient oak. They sprout when the season calls for it, but eventually brown—falling and dying away. Forgotten. They are never truly here.” Passing phantoms to bide his master’s time, those love affairs were. All save for the one and Elijah. It wasn’t their fault as most of them were mortal; but that wouldn’t stop him from anointing them as thus—pets for a passing fancy. They had their purpose; they made Jean happy for a time. But he didn’t like people referring to him—to Elijah—as disposable. Not because it would bother him for Jean to think of him as thus, for the man could do no wrong; no, because himself didn’t like the idea that he would leave on a whim and never return. Not when he hated leaving to eat even when he had to.
He didn’t like it voiced—associated with him.
Finally... “Why do you ask?” Why, indeed, would he want to know? Curiosity was a curse for the Grigori. New Knowledge. Always.
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 01-20-2016
Jean raised an eyebrow of disbelief, but then his mouth curled into a grin, the sort of smile that could best be described as smug. Never mind that she was teasing, that they had never been lovers, that none of the things they had been could ever be described as 'considerate' on his part. Flattery was flattery, and he was always easy to please. «How rude of me,» he said, «to have left you ruined for all other men.»
The more she spoke the more neutral his expression became, suddenly feigning far more interest in his wine. «I cannot imagine who you mean,» he lied, shuttered gaze fixed on his drink though it would do him no good. No point to it at all when Adelphie could taste a lie the same as he could, when she could surely detect his irritation and anger and what might have been regret.
She'd probably know better than he did. It wasn't as if he could taste himself.
He sipped at his wine, much daintier than she was, carefully controlled gentility. «I must have forgotten,» he said. «There have been so many, after all.» As if the man in question did not even still have a bedroom waiting for him upstairs, exactly as hideous as he'd left it.
The shop was a far preferable topic of conversation, even if the two were intrinsically linked, a cascade of consequences that had not yet finished. «Those wares are not for sale, Madame,» he said, an aura of offense. «Not that there is anything wrong with that oldest of professions,» he added, as if that concession applied in any way to her. He did not even hesitate when he picked up the bottle and poured her another glass, muscle memory in defiance of his words.
«Out?» he repeated, because that gave him pause. The way he said it suggested that she had said something absurd, even though it was perfectly reasonable on the face of it. It wasn't as if he never left the house. He simply did not go… out. Did not go to bars or restaurants any longer, did not invite himself to parties, did not have a social life outside his front door. The closest he had come to that of late was to visit those who had invited him into their homes – and, to be fair, at least one of them had lived in a bar. But that was incidental to the reality of it, which was a tête-à-tête and not a public social engagement.
He did not know why it was that he should shy now from the idea, when his hermitage was a recent development not long-lived in the grand scheme of things.
«Later, perhaps,» he said, hedging. «The store is still open, and there are still customers, after all.»
The more she spoke the more neutral his expression became, suddenly feigning far more interest in his wine. «I cannot imagine who you mean,» he lied, shuttered gaze fixed on his drink though it would do him no good. No point to it at all when Adelphie could taste a lie the same as he could, when she could surely detect his irritation and anger and what might have been regret.
She'd probably know better than he did. It wasn't as if he could taste himself.
He sipped at his wine, much daintier than she was, carefully controlled gentility. «I must have forgotten,» he said. «There have been so many, after all.» As if the man in question did not even still have a bedroom waiting for him upstairs, exactly as hideous as he'd left it.
The shop was a far preferable topic of conversation, even if the two were intrinsically linked, a cascade of consequences that had not yet finished. «Those wares are not for sale, Madame,» he said, an aura of offense. «Not that there is anything wrong with that oldest of professions,» he added, as if that concession applied in any way to her. He did not even hesitate when he picked up the bottle and poured her another glass, muscle memory in defiance of his words.
«Out?» he repeated, because that gave him pause. The way he said it suggested that she had said something absurd, even though it was perfectly reasonable on the face of it. It wasn't as if he never left the house. He simply did not go… out. Did not go to bars or restaurants any longer, did not invite himself to parties, did not have a social life outside his front door. The closest he had come to that of late was to visit those who had invited him into their homes – and, to be fair, at least one of them had lived in a bar. But that was incidental to the reality of it, which was a tête-à-tête and not a public social engagement.
He did not know why it was that he should shy now from the idea, when his hermitage was a recent development not long-lived in the grand scheme of things.
«Later, perhaps,» he said, hedging. «The store is still open, and there are still customers, after all.»
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 03-09-2016
Adelphie grinned behind her glass, they were both so pleased by compliments, regardless of how empty the ones that they paid to each other happened to be. She watched the conceit fade from his features as she continued on, and initially it did nothing to deter the stream of consciousness that she was uttering about the companion in question, but when the sharp scent of his displeasure was near overwhelming she forced herself to stop. She did not prod and poke like she truly wanted, because pissy René was not a fun René.
«That's quite a shame,» was all she said, tapping fingers on the side of her glass, not quite empty, any noise from sharp nails was muffled by the leather of her gloves. «I did like that one,» she repeated, mumbled sort of like an afterthought, eyes narrowing in the direction that Elijah and the cat had disappeared.
The maenad giggled, a high sound that mostly trilled in her throat, each corner of her mouth pricking upwards as she turned her sights back on him. «Not for sale, no, but not exactly free either,» she observed cryptically. He was becoming very good at refilling her glass without her needing to prompt him to do so. He seemed to have gotten over whatever had had him trying to control her, which was also nice.
She nodded, bringing the glass to her lips once more. Red lipstick, dark and matte, had managed to stay perfectly in place on her mouth, not a trace of it resided on the glass. «Yes. Out,» she said drew out the vowels of the word, wondering what about it could have confounded him so. She watched, eyes narrowing suspiciously, the split second it took him to consider her invitation. She could not read his mind, did not need to, to know that he would not be going anywhere with her. Bookstore, or no bookstore.
«I'm busy later,» she said, loftily, somewhat slighted by his declination of her offer. «I was only available this afternoon.» She turned her attention to the elaborate and expensive watch wrapped around her wrist, pushing the ruffled end of her glove out of the way.
«I will take your darling kitten, instead, I think.» It did not sound like a question, she was not asking for permission, did not take Rylan's feelings into consideration. Too accustomed to getting her way, would continue to do so even if he tried to deny her. «Not today, though. There's not enough time to make a proper day of it.»
Adelphie stood, retrieving her stole from the counter as if she were preparing to leave. «I will get her cell number before I leave. Oh, and yours, too. You do have phone, yes?»
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 03-09-2016
Elijah's curiosity upon her curiosity would not be sated at present. Rylan giggled. Possibly. It was the only accurate word for the rumbling strings of sounds that originated in the base of her throat. It was not the sound of jovial amusement, deeper than her laughter ought to have been, not that those present would know the sound. There was something mocking about it, derisive even. Her ears pushed forward, no longer glued to the crown of her head, as her tail settled from its nervous flickering. "Is that really what you think?" Fingers uncurled from the bench that she had been clinging to and she sat up straighter, lifting limbs above her head in a stretch.
She sighed, sounding almost content, and when she cocked her head and glanced at Elijah from her periphery it was clear to see that her eyes were not green, but a bloody crimson.
It was not often that Belial bothered making two appearances in one day, not enough energy, not enough desire. It was a special occasion however, when they had the opportunity to be alone with two very interesting individuals. Not that their presence could be kept secret from the others within the household, not that they would be able to have their fun for long.
"You honestly think it is your choice?" Belial's arms dropped back to their sides, leaning back in the settee, they crossed one leg over the other, their arms doing the same as they adopted a demeanor and posture that was near polar opposite from their host. "If Jean decided he was finished with you, tomorrow, you would what? Stay, despite his feelings?"
Belial pushed themselves away from the window seat, circling the coffee table to the nearest pile of books. They ran fingers across the spines, indifferently. They picked one up, flipped it open, still not interested in the contents. "Just because you have lasted longer than the others, does not make you any less kept." The final word was punctuated by the book snapping closed once more. The returned the tome to the pile with a surprising gentleness. They chuckled again. "Oak leaves, you say, as if evergreen needles do not eventually fall and wither."
"It is almost a bit… pathetic," they drew out carefully, cocking their head and watching Elijah through a fringe of dark lashes. "The one most like a pet at near beck and call. Master this and that. Over-protective. A dog," they paused to gesture to themselves, when in reality they were referring to their host. "Flaunting passive aggressive teeth to a cat."
They pushed hair over their shoulders, a slow and gratuitous movement, because they did so like playing with Rylan's fall of dark locks. Ears and tails still remained still, as if Belial had no control over them, or preferred not to bother. "Then again, why stay at all? Affections so half-heartedly returned. So desperate, it seems. To have this man love you."
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 03-09-2016
Elijah was polite; always polite. Proper, restrained, wrapped in feigned respectability, rarely a curl of hair out of place any more than was deemed fashionably expected, and carefully agitated enough to keep things as he imagined they should be. Because perhaps Belial was not wrong in some way; he’d become this way out of necessity—because Jean had long ago drilled it into him. But the creature was not entirely correct either. Understandably, he had grown accustomed to it. Out of love? Maybe. There was no denying that the Grigori loved Jean in the best way one of his kind could manage. Truly, that aside, was easy for a Grigori to hold onto a mask in order to blend in better depending on the world they occupied—the location in that world they occupied. He had, admittedly, perfected this one so well he often forgot why he retained it at all.Habit. Foolish habit in which he rarely was allowed to show his true colors. The Witch—not the one in the kitchen, but the one who’d magiced her way out of Jean’s home days before—had tempted him out of it. He’d almost been disappointed that she’d escaped. Pitiful wretch, trying have things her way—to make others sees things he didn’t care for.
As the creature shifted, took over Rylan, he wondered if he should be surprised or excited? He’d not been prepared for this...thing’s arrival earlier. Certainly not when it had been languishing all over his Little Fox. But he was now and something inside him reached for that chaos.
He sipped his coffee, eyes closed as he considered a few things. Jean was still busy with the... woman in the kitchen, Rhys was occupied with the boy near the front, and he and The Demon were too far away to cause too much notice... he supposed. The boy was a problem only because he was human.
So many things to consider.... tsk, tsk...
He leaned back in his seat with a sigh and opened his eyes, everything about him shifting as well—seeming more pleased and something else entirely. Something more... himself.
Electric magenta hues glowed briefly and when the hum dimmed away they appeared almost brighter, if such a thing were possible. Runes, golden and barely over pouring with energy, illuminated just the same under his stiff shirt and suit; a glimpse of it could be seen near his wrists. He was smirking at her... no, smiling at her like a Cheshire cat who’d found the nectar of the gods. It suited him to think of her as a woman for now; it seemed right to think of her thus. She was in the body of a woman, after all. He licked his upper lip, lashes dropped just so and he chuckled—the sound deep in his chest and laced with something of an echo—something unearthly. One arm moved to relax itself on the back of the loveseat.
“Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” he asked mockingly--sweetly, deciding not to answer her questions right away—amused more than angry. Which was a little shocking for him, given how upset he’d been before. But then, he was more amused than angry. Perhaps more amused by her presence that Jean had been. No, The Little Fox had not been as amused as he. Had he? “I am quite surprised you came out at all, given how you reacted to me earlier.” He snorted, laughed then—just loud enough for them to hear—recalling the way the The Demon had scratched and clawed to get away from his words. “Tell me, if I am a dog licking at my Master’s heels, then what are you, my sweet? A caged song bird?” He stood then, languidly and with a purpose. His coffee was set down on the coffee table as he came towards her. His hands slipped into the pockets of his pants as he towered over her, leaned into her face—closing into the shell of her ear. He inhaled once before whispering.
“How did you wind up this way, I wonder? All hiss and no fangs to sate that chaos you so thrive on? It must be..." he paused purposely. "...Painful?"
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 03-17-2016
«You always did have horrible taste,» he said, ignoring that he was not meant to remember who they were discussing. But they both knew that was a lie, both knew that her apparent acceptance was only to avoid unpleasantness. Not avoiding disagreement, but rather unpleasant tastes. Neither of them was above inciting arguments in order to reap the benefits, though he had not done so for quite some time.
These days it made his leg hurt.
«Nothing in life is free,» he countered, as if such a platitude had any meaning whatsoever. «My favors are given no more or less freely than those of anyone else.» Which was not entirely accurate. More freely, but with a higher cost, and yet surely these two things cancelled out. Somehow. Probably.
He could taste very well the turn she took when he refused her offer – when he did not immediately acquiesce. A hint of offense, of betrayal. She had come so very far, and she had found him a different man than the one she'd hoped to find.
«Later is a very long time,» he pointed out. «Who must you be entertaining, to have your schedule so thoroughly stuffed?» He had not yet fallen so low to beg for her return or her continued company, but he did not like the thought of being rebuffed.
His eyes narrowed at her, just the slightest bit, a subtle indication of displeasure. «If she finds herself desirous of your company, I of course would not stand in her way,» he said, attempting to sound measured and gracious. But he did not trust Adelphie in this matter, in particular did not trust her to do anything but give Rylan orders that she could not refuse.
Which was cheating.
He'd seduced her properly. That gave him precedence.
Distraction came in a sulfuric haze, familiar since his earlier encounter. Clearly, he couldn't leave her alone for a second. How could he possibly be expected to allow Adelphie her company for an entire day? A terrible plan, the worst he'd ever heard of. Immediately he slid out of his seat, moved as if to head up front an intervene. He was stopped again by something else, tasted much less recently but nonetheless familiar, electricity and snakeskin.
Which should not have been reassuring. Far from it.
But neither party tasted angry, not insofar as he could detect, though he knew the one far better than the other. Elijah would, surely, still know better than to go setting anything on fire.
Fine, then. He would leave them be, for now.
His attention turned back to Adelphie, did not quite scowl. «Oh, yes, that wretched thing. If you insist.» He dug the item in question out of his pocket and held it out to her the way he might hold a rat toward a snake. «Put yourself in it, or copy my number, or do whatever else it is you must. If you truly cannot be bothered to simply stop by or send a letter.»
These days it made his leg hurt.
«Nothing in life is free,» he countered, as if such a platitude had any meaning whatsoever. «My favors are given no more or less freely than those of anyone else.» Which was not entirely accurate. More freely, but with a higher cost, and yet surely these two things cancelled out. Somehow. Probably.
He could taste very well the turn she took when he refused her offer – when he did not immediately acquiesce. A hint of offense, of betrayal. She had come so very far, and she had found him a different man than the one she'd hoped to find.
«Later is a very long time,» he pointed out. «Who must you be entertaining, to have your schedule so thoroughly stuffed?» He had not yet fallen so low to beg for her return or her continued company, but he did not like the thought of being rebuffed.
His eyes narrowed at her, just the slightest bit, a subtle indication of displeasure. «If she finds herself desirous of your company, I of course would not stand in her way,» he said, attempting to sound measured and gracious. But he did not trust Adelphie in this matter, in particular did not trust her to do anything but give Rylan orders that she could not refuse.
Which was cheating.
He'd seduced her properly. That gave him precedence.
Distraction came in a sulfuric haze, familiar since his earlier encounter. Clearly, he couldn't leave her alone for a second. How could he possibly be expected to allow Adelphie her company for an entire day? A terrible plan, the worst he'd ever heard of. Immediately he slid out of his seat, moved as if to head up front an intervene. He was stopped again by something else, tasted much less recently but nonetheless familiar, electricity and snakeskin.
Which should not have been reassuring. Far from it.
But neither party tasted angry, not insofar as he could detect, though he knew the one far better than the other. Elijah would, surely, still know better than to go setting anything on fire.
Fine, then. He would leave them be, for now.
His attention turned back to Adelphie, did not quite scowl. «Oh, yes, that wretched thing. If you insist.» He dug the item in question out of his pocket and held it out to her the way he might hold a rat toward a snake. «Put yourself in it, or copy my number, or do whatever else it is you must. If you truly cannot be bothered to simply stop by or send a letter.»
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 05-16-2016
Adelphie tuts. «It is no business of yours with whom or with what I choose to stuff my time,» she replied, hiding a grin behind gloved fingers. Grinning for her turn of phrase and for the smell of him, gone sharp at the idea of her playing with his toy. She sniffed once, noticeable and haughty as if she had caught scent of something unpleasant, when she was truly doing her best to be insufferable. «She will be terribly fond of the idea,» the Maenad reassured, which was not at all reassuring. It had yet to even occur to her that her method of acquisition was perhaps frowned upon. She buttoned the stole across her collar, and adjusted the way if fell across her shoulders. She had just begun to push the cork back into the near-emptied wine bottle, when distraction reached the both of them. Her lips pursed into a surprised ‘o’ as her gaze drifted from Jean to the shop, and then back again.
She watched him move with calculated motions, and Adelphie could hardly keep the delight from her features. A pet he wasn’t willing to share and the smell of sulfur and ash that seemed to bode trouble.
Color her intrigued.
Though surprisingly, she didn’t ask any questions when he chose not to make an appearance at the front of the store. Kept her narrowed gaze on him as she snatched the cell phone from his hands. «I cannot,» she chirped, her thumbs moving expertly across the keyboard as she put her number within his dreary list of contacts. She put his dreadful nickname for her, since she thought he would appreciate it along with a gratuitous kissing-faced emoji. Her own phone chimed pleasantly within her handbag as she sent a text to herself.
Handing the phone back to him, she pulls her bag from the counter, and allows it to fall to the crook of her arm. « I shall ask the kitten to have a day with me,» she informed, and once again it was not a question. «And I shall let you know when I am free for dinner. Or whatever it is you do now, for entertaining.»
Crossing the island, she held her arms out for him, tilting her cheek as if she expected a token before she made her way.
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 06-27-2016
«I have no real interest in hearing about it, regardless,» Jean assured her, ignoring that he had asked. «Has your perfume gone sour?» He wrinkled his prodigious nose. «I thought I had noticed something dreadful in the air, but I had not wanted to say anything.»
«It does not count if you have told her to be fond,» he countered, though he knew this would not stop her. He could try to keep the kitten locked upstairs or some such, but it would be impossible to hide her. Adelphie was as good at finding what she wanted as he was.
He brushed his hands over the front of his suit once she'd snatched the phone away, as if wiping away something unpleasant. Entirely psychological, of course, because he would never allow anything as low as dirt or other filth to touch his clothes if he could help it.
The phone was taken back with more than a little suspicion, squinting at the screen. «These tiny yellow faces are wretched,» he informed her, «and I am disappointed in you for using one.» He tucked it back away in his pocket like a quarantine.
With a sigh he acquiesced to her unspoken expectation, taking her arms and kissing each side of her face in turn. «You are an awful creature,» he said, «but I shall see if I can make room for you regardless. Not that I do not have room to spare, but you know how it is.»
«It does not count if you have told her to be fond,» he countered, though he knew this would not stop her. He could try to keep the kitten locked upstairs or some such, but it would be impossible to hide her. Adelphie was as good at finding what she wanted as he was.
He brushed his hands over the front of his suit once she'd snatched the phone away, as if wiping away something unpleasant. Entirely psychological, of course, because he would never allow anything as low as dirt or other filth to touch his clothes if he could help it.
The phone was taken back with more than a little suspicion, squinting at the screen. «These tiny yellow faces are wretched,» he informed her, «and I am disappointed in you for using one.» He tucked it back away in his pocket like a quarantine.
With a sigh he acquiesced to her unspoken expectation, taking her arms and kissing each side of her face in turn. «You are an awful creature,» he said, «but I shall see if I can make room for you regardless. Not that I do not have room to spare, but you know how it is.»
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 07-05-2016
Belial turned away from him, carefully braiding a lock of hair between nimble fingers. They were doing a marvelous job of pretending they were considering the titles among the shelves, when they were truly hiding the smirk that had curled one corner of their mouth. They did not need to look at him to see his change in demeanor; to feel the runes come alive on his skin. Somehow, they resisted the urge to immediately turn around and see the glowing filigree for themselves.Patience was a virtue after all.
“You would know if I were trying to hurt your feelings,” they replied. Turning in one swift motion, they cocked a brow at him. They chose to ignore his tone, because it was so easy to play a back and forth game of disinterest and mockery. To silently fight for the power that neither of them deserved. Now that they were facing him, they did not bother to hide the way they were admiring him. He was pretty, if nothing else.
Pretty things were so fickle. So many of them had less value than they appeared.
“I will admit I was surprised,” the conceded. “It is not often that someone is able to sense me. I am not so vain as to refuse to admit when I am impressed.” They pressed one shoulder against their cheek, looking coy as red eyes swept over him. “A song bird,” the repeated, sighing wistfully. “Makes captivity sound almost romantic. You have quite a way with words.”
They did not shy away from his approach, cocking their head to the sound of his voice against their ear. They smiled, as if they were hearing some secret confession, rather than being somewhat insulted. When they spoke, they turned their head, as if they might kiss him, but they kept that small distance between them. His hands in his pockets and their hands in Rylan’s hair, they did not touch. “I am exactly where I need to be,” they reply cryptically, ceasing their ministrations of ebony locks to lace fingers behind their back. “Just because I choose not to bear fangs, does not mean I do not have them. It does not mean I am left wanting.”
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 07-12-2016
How... how long had it been? Centuries, mayhap, since he spoke this way to another creature—at least with one that had the capacity to speak. It was fascinating, but he found himself unable to be upset anymore. He couldn’t say what he was feeling aside from amusement, but it most certainly wasn’t anger.It was obvious she was being coy, or at least pretending to be. And he understood that well enough. “Would I?” he mused rather incautiously as he slowly pulled just far enough away from her that there were indeed but inches between them. “It’s been quite some time since anyone managed as much, I assure you, dearest. And those who have tried are either long dead or too far from my person to matter anymore.” Grigori, after all, did not linger near such a planet as this for too long. Humans and metas were not usually something they found intriguing enough to meddle with, not since... well before Caesar at any rate. He would be mildly intrigued if he met another of his kind within spitting distance.
He was smirking again because he could sense that she was admiring him, see it in the way her eyes locked on him. It would not be the first or last time someone found him attractive, be that in this form or another—man, woman, or animal. The latter rarely appealed to him, however, regardless of some of his stranger... cousins, so to speak. “You did not like my voice,” he murmured as if wedging a knife further in a wound. “And you did not have much fun with The Fox, did you?”
Did he have a way with words? Live long enough, as he had, and certain things were bound to rub off regardless of the culture or world. He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter—it didn’t—and hummed once as if considering something once she went on about fangs and being where she needed to be. He reached up, wrapping a finger or two around a curl of her hair—one of the many she’d been playing with a moment ago—before letting it slide through his grasp; a sure sign he might very well be testing her limits on personal space. “Are you now? In a bookstore?” He was smiling once more, but this time more sweetly—seeming almost genuine in his rounded glasses and charismatic gaze. “I will admit, the establishment houses the most unusual... literature,” a pause, “but, fangs or not, you don’t strike me as the sort to linger about for a good book, madam...” Casual as it sounded, Elijah wanted to know why and what she was up to, no matter how entertained he was by her presence.
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 08-10-2016
Adelphie left Jean with little more than a scoff, because they were both unaware that his words were little more than just that. Words. She refused to be made complacent by idle promises, but she also would not be put out by his change of attitude. Centuries had passed between them, and she could wait however long it would take him to warm up to the idea of being fun, again. She'd wait until he was bored with books and cats, and they'd fall back into their old ways. Ah, how she missed those nights.
Adelphie held off leaving the shop long enough to find Rylan and hand her a business card with explicit instructions that she should call her for lunch. The maenad did not care that she was interrupting; was not oblivious to the change in the cat she had taken an interest in. Winking at the Grigori that she knew she annoyed, she pushed over-sized sunglasses over her eyes and excited the shop, much the way she had entered. With flair.
As the redhead left, Belial turned the business card over in her hands. Crimson eyes did not stray from her company to read the words embossed upon the surface of it. "You would," they emphasized, indicating that their conversation would be continuing. "However, I have no intention of hurting your feelings. So, I suppose the time between slights upon your character will continue to add up."
They couldn't decide if his smirk was vanity, enjoying the idea of being admired in its simplicity. Or if he believed his pretty face gave him some sort of advantage upon them. The last was certainly not true. Belial had witnessed centuries of pretty faces, his was another on a long list of pleasant configurations. "Your voice is much nicer outside of her head," the demon admitted, the business card disappearing with a wave of the hand. Like a street magician's trick. "Inside, it's too much noise. Deafening. Like too many people talking over one another."
Frowning, they turned up their nose and pushed all of their hair over their shoulders to fall across their back. "The Fox was not nice," they replied, and it sounded very much like a complaint. "But he is not nice to anyone."
Even with as good as he was at pretending to be.
They watched him toy with an ebony strand from their periphery, and when he tried to pull away, they grabbed his hand instead. Pressing his palm to their cheek, a pleased sigh passed through ruby-painted lips. "Perhaps, I am not here for the books," they suggested, cryptically; they watched him through a dark fringe of lashes. "I go where the cat goes," they continued, though that much was obvious. "But the cat is not here for the books either."
RE: Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 09-01-2016
Jean made no effort to stop Adelphie from leaving, sipping at his wine as if it was no concern of his. She would know better, would taste his petulance at having not come out the victor of their little verbal sparring match. Appearances, nonetheless, were important.
She had in theory left him free to deal with the confrontation occurring in his storefront. He could play favorites between them, worsen their argument, position himself as a prize they might win. Or actually try to put a stop to it, though to do so would not benefit him. He continued to drink in the kitchen instead.
He could leave, if he wanted. Go out to crowded places to find ways to amuse himself. It was only that he did not want to. When had he ever been the sort of man to do things he did not want to? Never, absolutely never, not if he could help it. He was allowed to stay home, if he wanted; it did not in any way reflect poorly on him to allow his meals to come to him.
He huffed as he scowled at his wine.
She had in theory left him free to deal with the confrontation occurring in his storefront. He could play favorites between them, worsen their argument, position himself as a prize they might win. Or actually try to put a stop to it, though to do so would not benefit him. He continued to drink in the kitchen instead.
He could leave, if he wanted. Go out to crowded places to find ways to amuse himself. It was only that he did not want to. When had he ever been the sort of man to do things he did not want to? Never, absolutely never, not if he could help it. He was allowed to stay home, if he wanted; it did not in any way reflect poorly on him to allow his meals to come to him.
He huffed as he scowled at his wine.