A private 1x1 between Kat & Scoot
Feel free to read along.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
Tuesday
His unsullied throne, with a harrowing cast of figures, contrasted against the optical illusion of the Dreaming. In full stygian armor, shadowy quintessences stood silent watch where no others were permitted to go; their presence reflecting the habits of their creator. Marquee Morandori sat in his sequin and silk, the cross pattern of his robe more drapery than gown so the physique beneath the attire was visible. He was ancient among his kind. God King of the Morandori empire, sheltered by the desert graveyard where forgotten emperors forever resided beneath the dunes. He often created their likeness as a testament to the history of his homeland, emulating their strengths and stature so his childer were immaculate beings of his own design. The colossal guards creating a semicircle at his rear were to keep up appearances, and for what good it was to seem larger than life, the lifeguard provided assistance worthy of a deity from humble Fae lineage.
Through the air, squared fingers danced with light, their tips strumming unseen cord and string while illumination spilt through the nothingness within the dimension. There was rhythm to the soundless act, solidarity in how the digits remained diligent as they toiled, though Marquee wore the expression of stoicism one might expect from a creature in his position. This was no trial, but a chore. A ceaseless task he needn't take part in, yet found himself compelled to complete with each new decade. Another set of sons, a generation ever so behind his last, with bodies and futures as formulaic as one might expect from the ageless archon. Before the Fae was flesh weaved from the Dreaming, metaphysical birth by the means of clan magic, though Marquee hardly expected thanks for this miracle. If anything, he was counting his seconds while the voyeuristic lifeguard imposed their proximity by looming to further stress their size.
The last article of interest the Elder fixated upon were sets of eyes for each new progeny vessel. Golden hues embedded within his own features rarely strayed from the mold, though in this case, he was finishing a procedure that none other was permitted to practice. If not tiresome, it was far more self-indulging than he was willing to allow himself in private. As he was, seated on his gilded throne, he wasn't quite so thorough as he might pretend to be when watched. His standards waned ever so as his thoughts drifted, and while perfection could be attained by his hand should he wish it so, no such wish was evident in the final moments of progression. Were one to acknowledge these flaws in his newest batch of followers, Marquee would deny having involvement in their existence; who would argue? Who of his clan was in a position to speak ill of his cause when the lineage was their common ancestry, and no fault came from appearance?
The first and last image within the Dreaming his unchristened sons would see would be the retreating back of their Monarch creator as he exited the vast emptiness of the realm, leaving his newest additions without so much as a look of acknowledgement.
Tuesday
Katja was unimpressed with the news of her first charge. She had been silent while spoken to and formal to a fault until the clan of her charge was said by her mentor liaison. In passing, even. Hardly a word of interest over the course of the hour-long orientation concerning what was expected of her, and when it did slip into the forefront of conversation, she gathered the admittance was closer to accidental than intentional. Rather than leave what she thought as further unsaid inquiries, the Arden asked, "Morandori?"
"You heard correct... Yes. He's one of Marquee's progeny." Artemis Arden furrowed his dark brows before shifting his weight from one lanky leg to the other. "I can only imagine what you're thinking, but as long as you don't say it out loud, it's not something you can be reprimanded for."
It took a moment of staring to decipher Artemis' actual meaning, but what was gleaned didn't bode well with the much younger Arden, and her features bore semblance to unease as she continued her train of thought with another question. "Are you expecting to see me again soon?"
"Well... No. If we're talking hypotheticals, Katja, you wouldn't be reassigned after a charge ceased to be. You know as well as I do what the policy is about readmission into the program. Unless you want to be a Watcher, it's a one-time thing." He paused before adding, "Don't go into this expecting the worst for you or for your charge. Neither scenario is a comfortable one. Trust me."
"I'm not sure what to expect," She lied, the corners of her lips teasing at the hint of a smile. "I'll take it one day at a time. That's all I can do, right?"
"Right." His gaze narrowed over Katja as she rose from her seat, an overnight bag already hanging over her shoulder. "I imagine you're looking forward to the experience, so I won't keep you. The bond between a Watcher and their charge is valuable, and in some ways, it's rather fulfilling. Eternity is a long time to be alone." There was more assurance he wished to share with his wayward sibling, but she seemed preoccupied with leaving, and he ceased his rhetoric as the departing Katja beamed one final smile toward him.
"All I need now is his name."
"Oh," Artemis cleared his throat before adjusting his glasses in a nervous fashion, "It's-"
Tuesday
"Andres."
"No, I hate it," Marquee said, a hand scrubbing against his beard in a reassuring gesture. "What about Horace?"
His companion and spouse narrowed her gaze, thick lashes decorating golden orbs that seemed hawkish in nature. "I don't care if you hate it. Once you're done with your part in all this, you leave them to me. Me. So, go do something productive for once and let me take care of your discarded projects."
"Listen to yourself, Rockland- it's the same argument every time." Chuckling, the patriarch shook his head before waving off the sight of tailors fitting one of the most recent additions to the clan. "I know your judgement is best, but please mind who you speak to me like that in front of. Consequences for every action..." What ominous intentions may have been attached to his warning were lost on Rockland as he vacated the premises, though she made sure she was tracking her brother's movements until he had slipped from view. The palace had countless rooms with near-identical layouts to the one now inhabited by the two Fae and their hired help, but this same room was where the Emperor's prized spouse did much of the busy work relating to new introductions to the clan. The individual being fitted was quiet, though she was used to doing much of the speaking in situations such as this.
"Andres Amir." She said behind his back, a nod to follow the softness of her tone. "Marquee may be the one who created you, but I am the one who ensures you are not without guidance. We'll make sure that you're prepared to leave when your Watcher is ready. You would be surprised how much can be done with a few hours." Having already seen to handling the paperwork portion of the transaction, Rockland hummed her triumph under her breath before explaining, "There is enough in your account to ensure you needn't rely on strangers for their hospitality, and what subtle nuances I cannot teach you will be left to this Arden you're being appointed. Over the next few days, I have so much to do with your siblings, so you'll have to excuse your mother for her ineptitudes. I'll make it up to you one day, Andres. For now, you are named, and in your name, there is power. A Morandori is never powerless."
Shifting her sights from the back of the fellow, Rockland swiped the screen of her phone and peered over the newest message received. "Ah. Yes. So, you and your Watcher will be meeting in Valesport tomorrow morning, which means you'll need to be on the jet in... two hours or so." Rolling her eyes, the raven-haired femme dragged her free hand through thick locks before adding shortly, "No time to waste. Let's finish this up and you can meet with this woman-"
Wednesday
"Fuck." Katja, half awake, grabbed frantically for her phone as the ringtone blared sharply through the din of her apartment. With the curtains drawn, it was peaceful and free of the light so desperate to spread outside her windows, but there was no escaping the morning hours despite being sealed away for much of them. Not where she was a phone call away from countless siblings and relatives who lived to keep the natural order of their enterprise moving smoothly. Katja oversleeping wasn't a slight against her charge, but against the entirety of the Arden clan. "H-hello?"
"You're late." Artemis seethed through the receiver, not bothering to keep his tone neutral as he went on to say, "Now get up and get to the airport before I break both your legs-"
"Wait, Artemis! Can I use the-"
"No."
"But you didn't even let me finish-"
The phone went dead in her hand as he hung up, leaving Katja to express her irritated groans to the privacy of her loft. At least she was awake, she considered as she slipped from the warmth of her covers and padded toward her closet, grabbing a pair of sweats and a hoodie in drab colors that wouldn't stand out in the airport crowd. Anything to keep from standing out would be nice, even if it meant abandoning her fashion sense at inopportune times. Of course, in her brief consideration for what she might want to wear, time continued to move forward. The Fae released a short utterance of panic when she noticed, only bothering to grab the essentials on her sprint out the door. "FUCK- Fuck! Okay, I'm going now- this time for real..."
And then, traffic. Katja sat awkwardly in the back of her Uber while the deadline for Andres' landing drew closer with each passing second, her eyes scanning packed streets in a miserable plea that something about this morning might go right for the fledgeling Watcher.
Eventually, and loudly, Katja came bolting down the stretch of airport terminals until she was met with the exit for the Morandori's private jet. This end of the airport was refreshing due to how unused it was, but that might have been the reason for the woman's apprehensiveness as she leant heavily into the far wall across from the rampway connecting the plane to the building, her hands busied with tying up her hair so it wasn't windblown during her first meeting with her charge. Immediate regret came over her outfit and the nonchalance of her preparations, but without prior experience, Katja was winging it with countless hopes for possible outcomes in the future. It earned a smile as the bay door proceeded to open, and straightening her posture, Katja flickered her gaze over the party of new arrivals to see if she could pick out which of them were hers.
"Andres?"
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
Life so far had been tedious and entirely uninteresting. Though it had been a little more than a day, Andres had no experience beyond being talked at. Most of what was said, he couldn't even recall. The idea of clan pride stood foremost in his mind, being a Morandori. He had been crafted by the hand of his god to serve, that much at least he could remember. There had been promises made too, and Morandori wealth and accolades were far more interesting. It didn't seem to matter much either way, regardless of his interest or motivations because his experience with life to this point was just being rushed from one place, one lesson, to another. Even now as he followed the procession of people leaving the jet, he was tuning out the last few pieces of instruction he'd be given before being left.
"Andres?"
The voice was calm, if not a little bit shaky, but Andres didn't answer immediately; perhaps he still wasn't used to replying when spoken to. In a stupor of his own thoughts he merely examined the unkempt appearance of the woman. She was disarming, at least, and for the first time he didn't feel like he had impossible standards to live up to.
Eventually the voice came again, and Andres caught himself staring before forcing his reply.
"You must be Katja."
He answered with a polite, albeit forced smile, adjusting the strap of the bag that slung around his shoulder as he extended his hand. The truth was, he was far from thrilled at the idea of having a watcher. He was young and his patron seemed impossible to impress. The knowledge that all his actions would be written and reported was not something he was happy about. Nevertheless, with the resources at his disposal, there came expectations and he had no say against that.
She gave a short nod before motioning back the way she had run. "Can you talk and walk? We have to grab your bags before the next flight comes in."
"Yeah, of course" He said as he followed along beside her. "You're my watcher then. I guess that means we'll be getting pretty close."
"Sure," she offered offhandedly, still shouldering her overnight bag like it contained something other than the bare necessities for travel. "I was told you're newly made, correct? Like, uh, new new?" Their path led toward the automated walkways and down a mostly empty corridor feeding into baggage and claims. "Anyway, I guess it doesn't matter how new you might be. Do you have an address yet?"
Leaning against the railing as the walkway carried them, he kept his attention fixed on the woman as she spoke. Even with his lax posture he towered over the Arden as he listened to her before replying. "Pretty new, yeah, but I hope that doesn't make you nervous. I'm as capable as any Morandori." His confident tone turning snyde as he subtlety mocks her. "I'm sure you'll see for yourself, with all the diligent notes you'll be taking." He pauses a moment, letting the air between the two sour before continuing. "Yeah, I have an address and a car."
Katja narrowed her gaze ever so slightly before forcing a smile across her lips, choosing to act naive toward his bravado, even if it meant swallowing her pride for the time being. "Excellent. That saves me the trouble of ordering a new Uber." Looking away as their ride on the walkway came to a stop, the Arden took the liberty of leading the pair to where the baggage was being kept, and motioned for Andres to pick his out before they were headed to the exit that connected into the car park. "Where did you tell your driver to meet us?"
Not satisfied with her dismissal, but content to let it rest for now, Andres picked out this luggage and, motioning to the east exit, led the pair. "Should be out this way." They walked in an awkward silence for most of the trip before he finally lashed out a final time as they neared the waiting car. "Listen, I know you think you have some duty to follow me around, but i've got important work to do and the last thing I need is to have you constantly getting in my way. Just be careful, and if I tell you to stay away, do it." He finished his warning by opening the door of their ride for her. The facade he put up was thin, at best, and the young, well-off man likely had ulterior motives he was attempting to hide.
Their ride to his penthouse was quiet between the two of them, instead he preoccupied himself with the sights of the passing city as he stewed in his contempt. He wasn't sure why he disliked the Arden, she had been perfectly pleasant but regardless of her demeanor she was there to keep tabs on him and in his mind that made her the enemy
"Andres?"
The voice was calm, if not a little bit shaky, but Andres didn't answer immediately; perhaps he still wasn't used to replying when spoken to. In a stupor of his own thoughts he merely examined the unkempt appearance of the woman. She was disarming, at least, and for the first time he didn't feel like he had impossible standards to live up to.
Eventually the voice came again, and Andres caught himself staring before forcing his reply.
"You must be Katja."
He answered with a polite, albeit forced smile, adjusting the strap of the bag that slung around his shoulder as he extended his hand. The truth was, he was far from thrilled at the idea of having a watcher. He was young and his patron seemed impossible to impress. The knowledge that all his actions would be written and reported was not something he was happy about. Nevertheless, with the resources at his disposal, there came expectations and he had no say against that.
She gave a short nod before motioning back the way she had run. "Can you talk and walk? We have to grab your bags before the next flight comes in."
"Yeah, of course" He said as he followed along beside her. "You're my watcher then. I guess that means we'll be getting pretty close."
"Sure," she offered offhandedly, still shouldering her overnight bag like it contained something other than the bare necessities for travel. "I was told you're newly made, correct? Like, uh, new new?" Their path led toward the automated walkways and down a mostly empty corridor feeding into baggage and claims. "Anyway, I guess it doesn't matter how new you might be. Do you have an address yet?"
Leaning against the railing as the walkway carried them, he kept his attention fixed on the woman as she spoke. Even with his lax posture he towered over the Arden as he listened to her before replying. "Pretty new, yeah, but I hope that doesn't make you nervous. I'm as capable as any Morandori." His confident tone turning snyde as he subtlety mocks her. "I'm sure you'll see for yourself, with all the diligent notes you'll be taking." He pauses a moment, letting the air between the two sour before continuing. "Yeah, I have an address and a car."
Katja narrowed her gaze ever so slightly before forcing a smile across her lips, choosing to act naive toward his bravado, even if it meant swallowing her pride for the time being. "Excellent. That saves me the trouble of ordering a new Uber." Looking away as their ride on the walkway came to a stop, the Arden took the liberty of leading the pair to where the baggage was being kept, and motioned for Andres to pick his out before they were headed to the exit that connected into the car park. "Where did you tell your driver to meet us?"
Not satisfied with her dismissal, but content to let it rest for now, Andres picked out this luggage and, motioning to the east exit, led the pair. "Should be out this way." They walked in an awkward silence for most of the trip before he finally lashed out a final time as they neared the waiting car. "Listen, I know you think you have some duty to follow me around, but i've got important work to do and the last thing I need is to have you constantly getting in my way. Just be careful, and if I tell you to stay away, do it." He finished his warning by opening the door of their ride for her. The facade he put up was thin, at best, and the young, well-off man likely had ulterior motives he was attempting to hide.
Their ride to his penthouse was quiet between the two of them, instead he preoccupied himself with the sights of the passing city as he stewed in his contempt. He wasn't sure why he disliked the Arden, she had been perfectly pleasant but regardless of her demeanor she was there to keep tabs on him and in his mind that made her the enemy
Wednesday
Bitch.
She mouthed the word at Andres' back when he turned away, silent as she did so, and during the journey from the airport to her Charge's place of residence, the sentiment remained fresh in the back of her mind. It wasn't that she couldn't see his bravado for what it was. It was that now, as she was doing her best to appreciate her future existence as his Watcher, he decided to fight her. Small jabs could be forgotten with time, but it was the reputation of the Morandori as a whole that made Katja uneasy with Andres. He fit the stereotype perfectly. Sharply dressed, attractively tall; complete with dark hair and tan skin. Then, the ego. The Arden had never been known for their ego, but Katja considered her own to be rather large - at least, she did. Andres was walking proof that hers wasn't entirely intolerable in its current state, which was more than she could say regarding her newly acquainted responsibility.
Emphasis on responsibility, given she had no say in the matter. He acted upset over her position, and she almost snapped back that it wasn't by choice, but she swallowed it. The words, the thoughts- anything to do with a what if scenario involving being freed from her duty within her clan. That thinking could only lead to a melancholic outlook, and given the last few days and the events that had transpired, Katja didn't think she could handle more upsetting circumstance. Her features made no hint of her plight, remaining pleasantly placid in the way a great body of water might appear in a photograph. Still, serene; void of signs alerting the viewer of her frayed nerves. The woman offered only her trained professionalism for their night ahead, as the sun was already setting over Valesport, and her companion was largely ignoring her existence in the car.
By the time the two entered Andres' home, Katja felt her jaw clench uneasily in a concerted effort to keep from frowning.
"Wow. Your apartment is so... lovely." Lavish, she meant to say. Expensive. Gaudy. There were countless words that came to mind that would have better expressed her bitterness toward the Morandori and how they spoiled their fledglings, but they would accomplish nothing but to stir the pot of contention between the pair. Their first meeting was already strained, and she understood he couldn't be so oblivious as to not realize this, so Katja tread thin ice on what else she cared to share aloud. Steering her thoughts from the appearance of the apartment, her eyes took in the dark furniture contrasting with the white floor and walls while her lips vocalized more immediate matters. "This is a good time for us to get to know one another. Maybe you can ask me about what you think you need to know, or you can tell me anything I might need to know..." Trailing off, she took a seat on the nearest couch arm while placing her bag onto the floor next to her feet.
"I'm not here to babysit you," she began, but part of her felt she was reciting the thought for her own benefit rather than for his. "so you really don't need to fight me. I'm here for the benefit of the Fae. Everyone gets a Watcher, Andres. It's not just you, and it's not just the Morandori. All the clans governed by the council have a Watcher assigned to their newest members." Reinforcing her smile, Katja went on to admit, "And all Arden are tasked to be Watchers. I have as little choice in the matter as you do." For the sake of saving face, she left out the part where his death might benefit her hopes of being freed from secretarial servitude. For what it was worth, she didn't wish him dead. Not yet, anyway.
"So, what are your thoughts? Anything urgent you need to say or ask?" Freeing her hair from the messy ponytail she had been wearing, the dark strands were regathered to be put up into an equally messy bun. Idle gestures meant to pass time while waiting for a response.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
"Yeah, no kidding. It's incredible."
Andres was as surprised as she was by the costly state of his new home. Not just the furniture, pristine and modern in its appearance, but the location of the apartment as well. He was situated near enough uptown that as the sun set, his apartment lit up, illuminated by the of suburb of Brighton coming alive outside his windows. Katja stood out in in comparison, gathering her hair into an informal bun to match the laziness of her clothes. Still, she was undeniably attractive and something about the way she carried herself made her comfortable company. It was enough to distract Andres from the animosity he'd been trying to stir. In his mind he even went so far as to agree with her, now would be a good time for the two to talk, and though he wanted to be rid of her he had no legitimate reason to dismiss her now. He watched her sit herself on the arm of his couch, eyes following her movements to the bag she placed at her feet. "Are you staying here tonight?" He broke the silence he'd created between the two the of them, attempting now a more genuine approach. "I just don't know how this works. You're right, I have a lot of questions, and I'm sure you do too. Just let me put my stuff down and we can get started."
The bedroom was as he expected after seeing the entryway. Immaculate in it's appearance but simply decorated. On the bed was a phone with a handful of contacts listed. He'd no doubt be hearing from them soon and would be given some assignment to complete for Morandori honor. 'Honor...' The word stung at his mind like some sort of a joke. A time would come when he'd be asked to fight, and likely kill some heretic or naysayer, until eventually he himself was killed. That much didn't bother Andres at least. As far as lives to lead, his didn't seem like a bad trade for all the luxuries he'd been afforded. It was the duty, the lie of it all, that bothered him. It wasn't his honor he would be dying for. No, it was for some God he'd met in passing he was told to revere. Some ancient deity with an agenda Andres wouldn't be privy to. It seemed ridiculous, but how could it be? Andres was created by his hand to do just that; he couldn't deny that he owed Marquee his life and that much at least, Andres would be willing to give when the time came.
The reminder of his fate weighed in his stomach, and not wanting to think about it further, he left the phone where he'd found it and moved to the closet. Suit and ties; neatly arranged and lined on their hangers. Expensive, tailored suits, some with pinstripes, others with bold colors. The ties to match, elegantly crafted with their backs embroidered, having fancy-sounding names stitched in gold thread. They were clothes. Nothing, they were nothing, but it was one of the most impressive sights he'd remember seeing until now. He couldn't resist exchanging ties, if for no other reason than to do it. So he traded what he wore for a skinny, plain black tie. He knew he was keeping Katja waiting and he felt the genuine pain of guilt about it, but this stupid tie was a triumph. The first small step he'd take in controlling his life
"Sorry for keeping you waiting, let's get started."
"I know you aren't meant to be my chaperone. You probably have as little say in this as I do and I'm sure you have other things you'd rather be doing. So, how does this work? Do you follow me around with a pen and paper, or check in with a text? I just need to know what I can expect." He sat on the couch next to her as they spoke. Katja was still perched on the armrest, but he didn't mind. He sat close to her, maybe even a little too close. His tall frame challenging her even from her heightened seat. "If this is what our relationship has to be, I don't want it to be a miserable experience for either of us." A lower tone now, just louder than a whisper as he spoke face to face with her.
"It might even be fun."
Andres was as surprised as she was by the costly state of his new home. Not just the furniture, pristine and modern in its appearance, but the location of the apartment as well. He was situated near enough uptown that as the sun set, his apartment lit up, illuminated by the of suburb of Brighton coming alive outside his windows. Katja stood out in in comparison, gathering her hair into an informal bun to match the laziness of her clothes. Still, she was undeniably attractive and something about the way she carried herself made her comfortable company. It was enough to distract Andres from the animosity he'd been trying to stir. In his mind he even went so far as to agree with her, now would be a good time for the two to talk, and though he wanted to be rid of her he had no legitimate reason to dismiss her now. He watched her sit herself on the arm of his couch, eyes following her movements to the bag she placed at her feet. "Are you staying here tonight?" He broke the silence he'd created between the two the of them, attempting now a more genuine approach. "I just don't know how this works. You're right, I have a lot of questions, and I'm sure you do too. Just let me put my stuff down and we can get started."
The bedroom was as he expected after seeing the entryway. Immaculate in it's appearance but simply decorated. On the bed was a phone with a handful of contacts listed. He'd no doubt be hearing from them soon and would be given some assignment to complete for Morandori honor. 'Honor...' The word stung at his mind like some sort of a joke. A time would come when he'd be asked to fight, and likely kill some heretic or naysayer, until eventually he himself was killed. That much didn't bother Andres at least. As far as lives to lead, his didn't seem like a bad trade for all the luxuries he'd been afforded. It was the duty, the lie of it all, that bothered him. It wasn't his honor he would be dying for. No, it was for some God he'd met in passing he was told to revere. Some ancient deity with an agenda Andres wouldn't be privy to. It seemed ridiculous, but how could it be? Andres was created by his hand to do just that; he couldn't deny that he owed Marquee his life and that much at least, Andres would be willing to give when the time came.
The reminder of his fate weighed in his stomach, and not wanting to think about it further, he left the phone where he'd found it and moved to the closet. Suit and ties; neatly arranged and lined on their hangers. Expensive, tailored suits, some with pinstripes, others with bold colors. The ties to match, elegantly crafted with their backs embroidered, having fancy-sounding names stitched in gold thread. They were clothes. Nothing, they were nothing, but it was one of the most impressive sights he'd remember seeing until now. He couldn't resist exchanging ties, if for no other reason than to do it. So he traded what he wore for a skinny, plain black tie. He knew he was keeping Katja waiting and he felt the genuine pain of guilt about it, but this stupid tie was a triumph. The first small step he'd take in controlling his life
"Sorry for keeping you waiting, let's get started."
"I know you aren't meant to be my chaperone. You probably have as little say in this as I do and I'm sure you have other things you'd rather be doing. So, how does this work? Do you follow me around with a pen and paper, or check in with a text? I just need to know what I can expect." He sat on the couch next to her as they spoke. Katja was still perched on the armrest, but he didn't mind. He sat close to her, maybe even a little too close. His tall frame challenging her even from her heightened seat. "If this is what our relationship has to be, I don't want it to be a miserable experience for either of us." A lower tone now, just louder than a whisper as he spoke face to face with her.
"It might even be fun."
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Wednesday
"Fun?" She asked as though it were a bad word, but quickly continued her thoughts by touching down on otherwise spoken inquiries. "I can follow you if you need following," There was a coolness to her tone, almost as if she were writing off the remaining tendrils of uncertainty snaking through her veins. "I'm here to be what you need me to be, and I'll decide in time just how best to do my job." Andres had questions, sure. So did she when she was first created, but the Arden were clingier than most when it came to their progeny, and Katja's eventual admission to the Fleshlands was long after having been educated and trained. She hadn't been blind to the basics of her position even though Andres was her first charge. It was a given that their first meeting would be awkward, but his closeness exemplified the same bravado the Morandori had always been known for, and for that, Katja wasn't perturbed. If anything, she was accepting to a fault.
Staring at the features of the larger figure, the Arden shrugged lethargically before admitting, "You're right, I guess. When it comes to this sort of arrangement, there isn't much say from either individuals involved. I was given a very brief rundown on who you would be because no one knows just who you are yet, and I have a feeling you weren't even given that much." She had watched how he moved, how he held himself, and upon entry to the penthouse, how his mannerisms wore his surprise like an ugly coat. It wasn't a practiced, methodical way of existing, and in some ways, Katja found his newness to be endearing. At least, there was charm in naivete moreso than there was appeal in arrogance. If Andres continued to balance both, he might not be the worst company she had kept in recent times.
"I'm staying tonight because I'd like to make sure you get through your first night in Valesport without incident." Brushing back stray bangs falling around her cheeks, her dark lashes batted lazily while she pondered her next message. "I won't let you make me miserable, Andres." She met his gaze with the crystalline clearness of her circling hues, their triad of blues ticking like hands on a clock around her narrowing pupil. To someone less familiar with the Fae, her eyes would be impressive in their display, but to others of the Dreaming, they were average. The Arden, regardless their best qualities, were average among the other clans. This alone allowed her comfort in her sweats, rolling up the sleeves of her unzipped hoodie while offering no sense of apology for her disheveled state. Katja had no one to impress outside her elders, and they hardly had time to hawkishly watch her affairs with the newest of the Morandori. "You can expect me to hover sometimes, but I'd rather not have to. If you keep yourself in line, I won't need to be breathing down your neck."
To further her point, she leaned closer and canted her features so her lips tickled lightly at the junction of Andres' jawline and neck. Releasing a warm breath along the skin, she traced his throat with her breathing just long enough to add, "We both have better things to do than instigate problems. This can be an easy life..."
But with the message relayed, Katja rose gracefully from her seat and pulled her phone from her pocket. Jiggling it in the Morandori's general direction, she said, "I'm going to order a pizza. Think of something low stress we can do... which is anything that doesn't involve me chasing you around. Simple stuff."
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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