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Post by naz on Jul 26, 2011 20:07:47 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 288 ♠ TAGS open ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley “Gomenasai.”
A woman stared, dumbfounded, at a young woman with bright white hair. She only smiled back at her with her head cocked to the side, hands clasped in front of her. “Excuse-moi?” the woman muttered, leaning forward slightly as if she hadn’t quite heard the woman right. They had just run into each other, so the French denizen was assuming it was "sorry," but she wanted to be sure.
Naz’s smile faded from her face and she cocked her head the other direction, mouthing the same words back to the woman with a blank expression. Several seconds later, after a rather awkward and drawn-out silence, Naz’s eyes widened and she smiled widely and giggled, highly amused. “Oh! Francais, pardon. . . . Ah. . . au revoir,” she muttered dreamily, lifting a hand and waving at the confused lady before she turned and trotted off, her arms held slightly at her sides, pads of her feet making a quiet pitter-patter as she ran.
She was used to the strange looks she was getting.
Either that or she wasn’t aware they were being made at all.
Thunk.
Suddenly Naz found herself sitting on the pavement, legs bent in front of her and all of her weight leaned against her hands, pressed flat against the ground behind her. She blinked slightly, then looked up at the mailbox she had slammed into. Several people had stopped to stare, but not a single one had enough decency to see if she was alright and help her up.
Unfettered, the old vampire picked herself up, brushed off the seat of her pants, and then swung around the mailbox, arms at her sides again.
Before she promptly ran into a phone booth and wound up right back in the same position.
♠ NOTES: I suck at starting threads. They'll get better, I promise. |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 26, 2011 22:20:32 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] Dark eyes, looking up at the sky, were soft and curious. That was normal, for him at least. He was the one who described himself as a scholar, because he knew things. He knew the names of those stars, the shapes they took in various parts of the world, even the reasons the names were given in the first place. He knew the history of the names, the etymology of the words that described them, even the various meanings each star had in various religions and myths around the world. He knew why they shone, and how far most of them were from his eyes, how long the light had traveled before it reached him. He could do the calculations in his head, because he'd had so much practice. Maybe that was something that came with being a vampire. One's mind seemed as open to receive information as ever. It never slowed, never changed. That being said, he didn't know everything. He wanted to, most people did, but it was an impossible quest. The world was constantly changing, always shifting. People were born and people died, but no one could know everyone in the world.
Still, Mik supposed, turning his eyes from the night sky, he could, at least, know a lot. As he had always described it, he knew less than some, but more than most, and that was, as always, a comfort to him when doubt assailed his mind. Not that it happened to him often, he was usually confident in himself, in his knowledge, his ability to know things about people. It was an ability that came with practice. If you knew someone, or even if you didn't, there were shifts you could notice, small muscles moving, tightening a face, or readjusting the position of a shoulder. When people were angry, sad, disappointed, or ecstatic. Of course, this made him a natural gambler when it came to cards, but he only dabbled in those things when other methods of obtaining cash failed. It was more common than one would think, but he managed to do it rarely enough so that he wasn't a recognized face at the table.
Either way, it had been a good night for him. He had made a good amount of cash, both under and over the table. His stride was confident, and there was a slight smile on his face as he made his way through the French Quarter on his way back to his small home. He was thinking of the various books that he still had on his list, but had been unable to buy. If knowledge was his power, then books were his main way of acquiring it. There were other ways, of course, but few were as simple. He usually preferred books. They were simpler. After all, he still had a few questions about partially relativistic physics as applied to the velocity of certain items. Not that he really knew what it meant....yet. There were always ways of learning...
He stopped, hearing a slight noise. His eyes didn't have far to look before they found a petite woman on the ground, having obviously run smack into a telephone booth. His eyes narrowed somewhat out of curiosity. There wasn't really any pain on her face, but no one was stopping to help her, either. He supposed that it was simply their nature. If someone ran into a telephone booth, they were either simple-minded or distracted. Mik, however, was curious. If she was simple minded, had she always been so? Or had there been a catalyst... If she was distracted, what had she been distracted by? His feet had already moved, bringing him next to her, where he gently held out a hand to help her up. "Are you alright?"
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: CRAY
Notes: none
Muse: Still there, somehow
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 26, 2011 23:09:15 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 338 ♠ TAGS malcolm reynolds mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley Naz stared at the phone booth, head cocked to the side. This time she didn’t get up right away and instead just admired the little booth from her worm’s eye view, leaning one way and then another to get a better vantage point, maybe see where the wires came from and where they went. . . . The phonebook was hanging out of its cubby, swinging slightly from the force with which she’d slammed into it. . . .
Yet not a bruise, bump, nor red mark pocked her skin.
“Are you alright?” a voice somewhere in the space around her asked, making her look around wildly before she spotted a hand outstretched toward her.
Naz looked up, head cocked to the side, and then smiled and graciously took his offer, allowing him to pull her to her feet despite the fact that she was perfectly capable of doing it on her own. That was only the polite thing to do, and it made it possible for her to conserve what energy she needed to get through the night, anyway! “Thank you, kind sir,” she said in a dreamy tone, smile warm and inviting. It would have been very easy to ignore the oversized canines.
“Yes. . . I’m fine. . . I barely felt a thing,” she continued, hand still attached to his. Her free hand reached out to tug slightly at his shirt, as if testing exactly how pliable it was. “What a fine fabric. . . and the color seems to look nice on you. . . though I’d take the hems in and maybe tuck them slighty. . . . Maybe try having it untucked like this. . . .”
And so she started messing with his shirt, readjusting it around his shoulders, attempting to tuck it a little further into his pants. . . . “Are your pockets tucked in?” she mumbled, cocking her head to the side and attempting to shove her hands into his pockets to make sure that they were tucked in. . . .
♠ NOTES: ohlol she can be a bit strange. |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 26, 2011 23:46:26 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] The ease with which he was able to pull her up told him two things. One, she was perfectly capable of doing it on her own. Two, since she had accepted the help despite this, she recognized the gesture. There was also the acknowledgement that she was small, almost petite, even, and didn't have much weight to her body in the first place. She was cute, though, in a childlike sort of way. But, he noticed immediately, discerning eyes picking out the telltale signs, she was a vampire. The knowledge didn't startle him, didn't scare him, but then again, he was one as well, and it was a simple acknowledgement of a like bodied individual. Well, that was one thing they had in common, at least. Hardly enough for one to begin a conversation, but it was there.
His dark eyes studied her momentarily, giving himself a moment to collect the information before he catalogued it. To be exact, she was a young looking female, though an air about her suggested she was older, though by how much, he couldn't tell. Silver-blonde hair, and skin almost as pale as the hair that graced it. Short, barely over five feet, plus two or three inches. Attractive by facial features alone, but the gentle curves of the petite body did not hurt. Eyes... He paused, thrown off his rhythm by the look in her eyes. It wasn't really the look of someone who was entirely...there. She spoke her thanks, and his eyes darted momentarily across her canines, marking them down as well. Her tone was...almost disconcerting in its manner, seeming dreamy, almost distant. Her smile was warm, and he couldn't doubt that it was sincere, almost forgetting about her eyes for a moment.
He sighed in relief as she spoke again. She was fine, but he hadn't really expected otherwise. Still, his eyes widened slightly as her hand moved to his shirt, unused to having anyone in such a close proximity to him. He listened to her speak, and made no moved to stop her, his hand slipping away from hers and moving to his side so she could have a better job of it. His mind was slow to react, still processing. His guess seemed to be proving itself. Her mind was definitely not in what could be considered 'prime condition'. Still, it was oddly comforting, in a way he couldn't quite describe. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made such a fuss over his appearance. He certainly didn't take any pains over it....
With a soft smile, he caught her wrists and pulled them away from his pockets. "I assure you, my pockets are tucked in..." He rotated slightly to either side to show her, hands still gently holding her back. "I'm Mikael, or Mik." He was curious. He knew most of the people in New Orleans, by face if not by name, yet he had never met this woman...girl...whatever she was, before. It was an interesting and quite entertaining coincidence that he had found her, then. Letting go of her wrists, he let his own hands slide into his pockets. "And you are?"
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: ISI
Notes: none
Muse: Still there, somehow
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 27, 2011 0:24:08 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 416 ♠ TAGS Mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley The fact that the man was humoring her didn’t seem to cross the woman’s mind as she fussed over his shirt, running her slender, pale fingers over his arms, down his ribs to make sure the shirt lied perfectly over his form. She got a good feel for his body, too, information that was processed on a deeper level than the surface functioning it was performing. Naz didn’t realize what she was doing, but on a subconscious level she was getting an idea of how fit and strong he was.
She didn’t seem surprised that the man had grabbed her wrist. It wasn’t like he was hurting her, anyway, and she just stared at him blankly, head cocked slightly as he assured her that his pockets were fine. She glanced down at his pants to check as he rotated, and she pursued the subject no further, just smiling up at him brightly. “Oh, so they are.”
When he released her, she stared at her wrists for a moment, rotating her arms at the elbow as if to study the spots where his hands had been. There were no visible marks, but the expression on her face would make one think he’d had left purple pain on her slender limbs.
“Mi-ka-el,” she echoed, rolling the name over her tongue as if it was a particularly juicy slab of meet, head tilted and eyes darting sides of her sockets, as if in thought. “Mi-ka-el.”
He asked her name and she snapped out of whatever trance she had been in directly thanks to the boy’s name being fun to say—in her mind, at least—and she smiled at him, clasping her hands in front of her and blinking once. “Naz. That is what I like to be called. . . . I think it sounds particularly neat. . . . However my name is Ana Hatsia. . . . If you must know that. . . . Though I can’t imagine why. . . ,” she trailed off, head ever so slowly tilting to the side as she stared at his chest.
There was no reason. . . she’d merely spaced out.
Several seconds later though she came back to herself and smiled up at him. “You are a very nice man, Mi-ka-el,” she cooed in her dreamy voice, reaching out to take his hand again, as if to shake it. However, she merely held on to it and smiled at him.
If she had realized he was a vampire, she had shown no signs of it.
♠ NOTES: She's surprisingly easy to write for. |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 27, 2011 9:57:05 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] He winced slightly, almost imperceptibly, at the look on her face after he released her arms. He hadn't been holding them tightly, and he hadn't left any marks, but the way she looked at them would make someone think that they were practically in agony. He wasn't quite sure how to take it. He didn't apologize, but his eyes seemed regretful. It had been rather uncomfortable to have someone sticking their hands in his pockets. Well, perhaps uncomfortable was the right word. In certain situations, the action could be considered... The thought was pushed from his head. Even if he felt that such close contact was a tiny bit too...intimate... Everything he'd seen of her so far had indicated that she felt no such qualms. She seemed...spacey, distracted, often by things that made little sense to him. Most people wouldn't start readjusting a person's shirt mere moments after meeting them. He had shivered slightly, to feel her hands so close to his chest, but had dismissed it as simply part of her nature, whatever nature that might be.
Her pronunciation of his name made him smile softly. No, she was definitely not focused, or likely even able to focus on much of anything. Except for his name, it seemed, but she snapped out of that trance soon enough. His smile grew in response to hers, spreading slowly across his face. He was enjoying this, in his soft-natured way. She was interesting to talk to, because he couldn't remember many conversations that had started strange and gone on in the same way. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, just different, and he was a person that thrived on differences. That, however, was besides the point now. Given what she was, she had undoubted been alive for a good period of time, which meant that, either consciously or not, she had her ways to survive, and he wasn't someone who would mess with such means.
"Naz..." He said softly, mulling it over in his mouth. "You don't seem much like an 'Ana', and you said you enjoyed it, so I'll call you that." He grinned for a moment, seeing that she'd gone again. "It fits you, you know. Oddly enough, I don't think I could think of another name to call you. Naz it is." Still grinning, he bowed from his waist slightly, inclining his head. "A pleasure to meet you, Naz."
His hand flinched slightly as she took it, almost as if he was afraid of her, but it wasn't fear. He simply hadn't had many people take his hand. Humans didn't, because he was a vampire, and many of them didn't trust him. Vampires didn't, because he was a vampire who kept largely to himself, which meant they knew little about him, which meant they didn't trust him. After a moment, however, the muscles in his hand relaxed and he smiled, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss it softly. "Well, if a nice man you say I am, then a nice man I must be. I just don't think that people should leave others lying on the ground." He didn't let go of her hand, didn't try to pull away, uncertain of what the action would make her do. "So, Naz... Where are you off to on this beautiful night, and would you let a...nice man... such as me accompany you?" It was largely curiosity that made him ask. He wanted to know more about her. There were other reasons, but they were faint and distant as of yet. He paid them little heed.
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: CRAY
Notes: Wow. She's easy to respond to, too...somehow
Muse: Still there.
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 27, 2011 12:54:08 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 339 ♠ TAGS Mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley “I have been Naz for as long as I can remember. . . I suppose it might be who I am now, not just a label. . . though. . . I don’t know if names are labels. . . embodiments. . . a means to keeping humans apart from one another. . . . Species class? What is a Naz. . . a Tommy. . . . Like the Shnauzer. . . . Are there other Naz’s roaming around. . . do you suppose?” she muttered, her train of thought all over the place. Most likely it was guided by a man passing by across the street, led by an over-excited Malamute puppy on a leash.
Naz smiled warmly back at the man as she came back to herself and bowed her head slightly. She hadn’t even realized she was rambling like that. “Likewise charmed,” she trailed, her accent a conglameration of all the languages she knew, knitted together in a stunning manner and dancing gracefully from her tongue.
Her smile faded ever so slightly into a more neutral expression when he asked her what she was doing, where she was going. A slender index finger was lifted to her lips and she looked up through her eyelashes at the sky, thoughtful. She stood like that for several minutes, as if she was trying to remember exactly what she had been doing before she’d run into that French woman. She stood perfectly still, body waivering not an inch or a fraction of an inch as she thought.
It was almost as if she had been frozen in time.
Slowly she came out of whatever trance she had been in and smiled at the man, dropping her hand back to her side and giving his a light swing, her arm rotating in a rhythmic and small arch. “I like to feed the owls. . . . I was going to buy some mice. . . . Won’t you join me. . . ?” she asked, head cocked. Her voice remained subdued and distant. ♠ NOTESshe can't very well feed doves at night, can she? XD |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 27, 2011 18:46:42 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] Mik couldn't help but smile at her completely random and arbitrary train of thought. If it could even be called a train. It seemed more like a puppy let loose in a new home, uncertain of its surroundings and rushing every which way in its excitement to give each new item a good sniff. He would never say such a thing aloud, of course, both for politeness' sake and for hers. Her mental state seemed quite...fragile as it was, so he had no idea how she might handle condescending comments and playful teases. Her accent, however, was interesting. As a well traveled individual, he had heard many different accents of English, some far mroe refined than others. Hers, however, seemed like all of them and none of them at once, a loose gathering of accents that seemed oddly smooth to the ear, though he could not, for the life of him, fathom how that made sense. Somehow... it simply worked, and it was a curious and beautiful thing to hear, if one could appreciate the various subtleties of tone. Fortunately, he'd always had a good ear.
There were so many different accents, however, that he was having a hard time pinning down which ones he knew. The french was obvious, he could easily hear the gentle sounds they placed on certain consonants. The Italian was slightly less so, only audible as a slightly singsong quality that made the light tone stand out even more. Russian, very faint, and German, even less so. For a moment, he could have sworn he heard a trace of a cockney accent, which made him struggle not to laugh. The tapestry of sound was, in short, awe-inspiring to hear, and utterly mind boggling in its complexity, but he'd always enjoyed a puzzle. "My name is legion...for we are many" He muttered quietly to himself in a different language entirely. Not the most flattering quote, but it seemed oddly apt, given the sheer number of accents he heard in her voice. It flowed nicely in old Gaelic, too, giving it a flowing quality of its own.
His eyes were quiet, and patient, as he waited for her to think. It seemed to be something he had to do often. Still, he was in no hurry, so he had the leisure to give her all the time she needed. The several minutes she took to do so were almost welcome, as they gave him more time to think. About her, mostly. The numerous accents, the odd way they flowed together, the warmth of her hand where it held onto his. The way her eyes turned up slightly as they gazed at the sky, the expression that came onto her face as she thought. The slender finger that lifted to her lips, highlighted against their soft color.
When she finally moved again, he was as attentive as ever, his smile growing as he nodded gently. "Then feeding the owls it is." His eyes came back up from her hands to her face, carrying a soft warmth within. "And of course I'll join you. I wouldn't be half the gentleman your praise indicates if I didn't accompany you tonight. Though you will have to tell me where you purchase your rodents, I'm afraid I have never fed the owls before." There was no judgement in his voice, nor his eyes. No condescension, or pity. Just a quiet warmth, a curiosity that had been kindled.
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: CRAY
Notes: I suppose not. Still astonishingly easy to write for...
Muse: Still there, somehow
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 27, 2011 21:57:52 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 381 ♠ TAGS Mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley “My name is legion. . . for we are many,” Naz heard the man mutter. She cocked her head to the side, mildly confused by the sentiment for a few seconds before she just giggled and lifted her hand to her mouth, as if to muffle the sound.
She dropped her and gave him an amused smile. “Silly there are only two of us here. . . ,” she responded in the same language effortlessly, head cocked to the other side.
Her smile only widened once he agreed to come with her, despite having been the one to suggest it in the first place. Naz’s mind thought in circles, anyway. “Oh, good. . . . It seems to make people uncomfortable when I tell them what I’m doing. . . . I’m glad. . . this way,” she cooed, spinning on her bare heels and padding silent as the grave across the sidewalk, clinging firmly to Mikael’s hand, towing him behind her.
Naz glanced back at him when he asked where her mice came from and she cocked her head to the side. “Pet stores. . . . Though this street has some sacrificial mice for sale. . . . They’re a little more expensive but uglier. . . can’t very well go around feeding adorable mice to birdies. . . though the birdies are cute in their own right. . . I like how silent they are. . . not even I can hear them. . . but they wouldn’t be very effective hunters if they were heard. . . .” Naz tilted her head back to look at the tar-back sky, expression dreamy.
Without realizing she had continued to speak in the same language.
“I think three mice will do tonight. . . don’t want Side Dish getting fat. . . ,” she muttered more to herself than to the vampire she was towing behind her.
After only just a block, Naz slowly came to a stop and looked down at her hand, still clutching to Mikael’s hand. She slowly followed the wrist attached to the hand up to the arm, and the shoulder attached to that, before she finally reached his head—and promptly started. “Oh! Hello Mi-ka-el. This way, then. . . .” Her smile returned and she pranced off, still holding his hand. ♠ NOTES hurr she's so cute. in a strange way. |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 27, 2011 23:21:28 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] Mik's eyes widened as he heard her slip into the new language. She had done it so easily, too, the change seeming almost unconscious in nature. His hand tightened on hers gently for a moment, a delighted smile coming onto his face. It wasn't every day one met someone fluent in the use of old Gaelic, French, Italian, and so many other languages. Even if she did seem a little...off, there was something very intriguing about this woman. He didn't respond the the jibe, however, his head bowing to acquiesce the point. He didn't want to argue with her, or even point out that he hadn't been referring to the two of them, but rather the countless cultures he could hear in her voice when she spoke. There was something definitely wrong with her, easily excitable, and easily distracted. In his mind, he almost likened her to a child, then looked at her again. Her mind seemed to drift aimlessly, flitting from thing to thing without a care in the world. He was actually surprised that she had managed to keep up an almost respectable conversation so far, barring odd pauses and long rambling muses.
As he felt her hand tug at his, he fell easily into step beside her, allowing her to lead him by the hand. Just as easily, he ignored the looks of the people around them, as well as the small smiles on many faces. Aside from her bare feet, they were a striking image of a young couple on a moonlit walk. If only they knew the truth. His smile tugged at the corner of his lips again. Her purpose hadn't made him uncomfortable, in the same way that her name, her mannerisms, and her speech hadn't made him uncomfortable. Simply put, he didn't get uncomfortable easily. He was, rather, quite curious. She acted childlike, but he could still feel something in the hand that held his. That, and the fact that she had fallen into flawless Gaelic so easily.
And she was still speaking it, even as she rambled on, her voice pleasingly light and energetic to listen to. He found a spring developing in his step simply from the sound of it. He didn't interrupt her, for the same reason he hadn't interrupted any of her other rambling speeches. They were entertaining to listen to, for one, and they gave him more time to simply think, to ponder the mysteries in his head. Not many people would enjoy such a thing, walking someone that could be considered 'simple' anywhere. He could, because he wanted to know what she had to say. He wanted to know how she had learned so many languages, and why she could switch between them so easily when concentrating seemed almost impossible for her.
Bemused, he realized she had stopped, and almost took a step forward before stopping himself. His laugh rang out when her eyes rose to his head, and he grinned at her. "Hello again, Naz." Then she was off, and he was catching up to walk next to her again, still chuckling slightly. His voice was quiet, but he still spoke in Gaelic, largely because she was still doing so. "So...how often do you allow someone to accompany you?" It was a soft question, but there were deeper reasons behind the asking. His hand twisted slightly so that his fingers could hold on to hers better.
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: ISI
Notes: none
Muse: Still there, somehow
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 27, 2011 23:49:16 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 451 ♠ TAGS Mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley Naz brought her slender finger to tap on her pale, full lips, and mulled the question over in her mind. “Um. . . well. . . I ask people all the time. . . but I guess people don’t like strange offers. . . they seem okay with feeding pidgeons. . . but I mention owls and they shy away. . . it’s the same thing, really. . . killing a potential plant instead of mice. . . owls need to eat too. . . .” She trailed off dreamily, swinging her free arm next to her. “So no one ever comes with me!”
She didn’t seem too upset by it.
The walk took a couple minutes and a few turns down different streets, but eventually Naz led Mikael to a very shady-looking building with a very shady-looking man standing in front of the windows, a big hat on his head, all dressed in black. Naz walked by him without a second glance, even offering him a little wave before she walked in the door.
A little bell went off, alerting any clerks inside that someone had arrived. Also heralding their entrance, a goat brayed and chickens began squawking and hopping around in their cages. Various other animals sat in cages, but Naz ignored them and shuffled to the front, finally releasing Mikael’s hand to lean over the counter, tapping on the side and humming to herself. A moment or two later, a woman with her hair in a ponytail appeared behind the counter. She was an older woman, maybe in her fifties.
“Can I help you?” she asked in French.
“I would like three mice, please!” Naz responded in Gaelic.
The woman stared at her blankly, eyes slightly wider than they were before and expression confused. “. . . Eh?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Je ne parle pas. . . .”
Naz cocked her head to the side and stared at the woman for a moment or two. “Ah! Francais!” she gasped, eyes widening and mouth turning upward into a slight smile. “Excuse me! I would like three mice, please!” The woman stared at her for a moment later, then sighed and nodded, retreating back to where she had come from to fetch the mice.
Smiling, Naz turned away from Mikael and trotted over to one of the cages holding the chickens and poked her finger through the wire mesh, head cocked and the widest of smiles on her face. “Chicky chicky chicky chicky chicky~” she sang quietly in French, stroking the silky feathers of a wing that was pressed against the cage. They continued to cluck and chirrup, but there was no where for them to go. They had no choice but to be pet. ♠ NOTES lol I could use a translator but I'm too lazy. |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 28, 2011 7:53:09 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] He felt slightly sorry for her, but not too much. She didn't seem too put off by the fact that few people wanted to walk with her. He had enjoyed it so far, because seeing new things was always enjoyable for him. As she finished, however, his hand almost unconsciously squeezed hers gently, almost as if he was reminding her that he was there, unlike everyone else. "I'm not quite no one" he said quietly, smiling to himself. It was almost a joke. To a lot of people, he was no one. Just another figure in the dark. One they rarely saw, and never spoke to. They didn't know him and that meant that he was a nobody to them. The difference was vast in his eyes. No one, to him, was a nobody. They all had names, they all had jobs, they all had secrets. That made everyone interesting in their own way. He could count on one hand the people he knew who knew as many languages as Naz, and that included both him and her. The difference, however, was that where he and several others could speak the language fluently enough, she actually sounded like she fit in. There was not a trace of a wrong accent when she spoke each language, and that was impressive. Especially for someone as spacey as her.
So he followed her silently through the night, down the streets, through the turns and twists her path took. The soft smile still tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he was constantly trying to hold back a laugh. The more time he spent with this woman, the more amusing he found her, but only in a good way. He nodded at the shady looking man outside of the store, dark eyes studying him intensely for a moment before Naz's hand pulled on his and he hurried forward to catch up with her, looking around at the inside of the shop. It seemed like a voodoo shop, both because of the sketchy interior and because of the types of animals they had. Sacrificial animals. Sacrificial mice, he thought, of course. That was what she had meant. Not for the type of sacrifice that the people who ran the place really expected, but much more humane, really. Simply allowing nature to run its course was natural. Still, he doubted many people spent their free time feeding owls.
He listened to Naz's interaction with the woman behind the counter, sending her a slightly apologetic look from where he stood behind Naz, flexing his suddenly freed hand slightly. He couldn't remember the last time someone else had held it, now that he thought about it. He turned from the counter and glanced around again silently. There were a lot of different animals, more than he had expected. Who the hell had ever heard of a sacrificial vole...? His eyebrow raised, and he almost laughed, but suppressed it at the last second, making it sound more like a cough.
After a few minutes, however, he turned back to Naz, then glanced at the counter in time to see the woman coming back. Stepping over to the small woman, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Naz... Your mice?" he said in french, his accent not as good as hers, but it was, at least, smoother than some. With an inclination of his head, he indicated the woman at the counter. "Unless you want me to pay..." There was no hesitation in his voice, largely because he was slightly uncertain if she even had any money. It didn't really matter to him, but he enjoyed her company, and didn't want to ruin it by stealing mice from a store. Or paying for something he shouldn't.
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: Cray
Notes: pfft. Translator Shmanslator. Screw it. Too lazy <<;; Besides, ain't any gaelic translators out there ^w^
Muse: Still there, somehow
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 28, 2011 22:08:23 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 513 ♠ TAGS Mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley Cocking her head and turning her body slightly, she looked up at Mikael with a blank expression. “My mice. . . ,” she murmured to herself dreamily. It wasn’t so much a question as she was just mulling the words over in her head. Slowly she turned toward the counter and looked at the woman with a box. She had her eyebrow cocked and looked impatient. Naz’s eyes widened and stood back up, smiling slightly. “Oh, my mice. . . yes.”
Arms out at her sides, Naz returned to the counter and leaned against it, digging around in her pockets while the woman pounded on the register. It beeped idly and a number flashed up on the screen facing Naz—$4.13. Naz finally removed her hands from her pockets and a couple coins clattered to the ground. However, Naz ignored them and flipped through the wad of bills she had in her hands. The woman’s eyes widened and she stared at Naz with awe, barely noticing when Naz handed over a five dollar bill. The woman started to count out her change, but Naz just picked up the box after stashing away her money and skipped back to Mal.
“Ma’am you’re change. . . ?” the woman called. But Naz ignored her, uninterested in the coins, made apparent by her lack of interest in picking up the ones that had fallen from the pockets of her fitted pants.
Naz held up the box in front of Mikael and smiled, giving it a gentle squeak. The mice chattered inside the box, the sound of claws scraping against the cardboard audible. “Yay. . . they’re alive,” she muttered, bringing the box close to her chest and popping it open, as if to check to see if all three were in there. She smiled, cocked her head to the side, and closed the box. All of them were an ugly brown color with beady black eyes.
“It’s a long walk to the park. . . I wonder if they’ll live that long in here. . . . I suppose they will this box has air holes and they looked kind of fat,” she muttered, clutching the box to her chest and heading for the door. She stopped to see if Mikael was following, and then pranced out of the little shop, the bell ringing as she exited.
She stopped for a second to look at the man leaning against the window and gave him another wave despite the fact that he didn’t even seem to notice her—his head was down and it seemed as if he had fallen asleep standing. She giggled, then glanced right, then left.
For a couple seconds she seemed deep in thought again, body statue still, and then she turned to Mikael—once again to check if he was there. She couldn’t hold his hand with the box clutched to her chest, so her mind didn’t have the luxury to forget he was there this time. “This way,” she sang quietly, voice distant before she strode down the sidewalk, steps erratic as she attempted to avoid all of the cracks. ♠ NOTES whew got it done. one of my longer ones, too. |
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Post by izzy1 on Jul 29, 2011 11:14:38 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-image: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2d06dc.jpg); border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; padding: 20px, bTable][style=font: italic normal normal 13px/15px Zapfino; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; padding-left: 60px; padding-top: 10px]SPEED ME[/style][/style][style=font: normal normal normal 20px/18px Helvetica; color: #FFFFFF; text-shadow: 3px 2px 2px #000000; text-align: right; padding-right: 75px]Towards Death[/style] | [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #2C2C2C; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9] The lack of speed in Naz's response was obviously an annoyance to the woman behind the counter. Mik had seen impatient people before, but to be honest, she was a woman who didn't seem to have much business sense. Most people, if they were running a cash register, would be happy to let their customers look around for a bit, on the off-chance that they might see something else that they might want to purchase. It was a slim chance, given Naz's apparent lack of... focus, and Mik's lack of attention to anything, but even a slim chance for money would be a good one. It was, after all, difficult for a lot of people to make up their minds about what they wanted. Of course, in a store that sold what seemed to be largely sacrificial animals, maybe they were a bit less uncertain... Rituals were usually quite precise about the whole thing.
He couldn't keep his eyes from widening slightly, incredulous about the amount of money that Naz had pulled out. For someone so...odd, she sure carried a lot around on her. Mik had a healthy amount of cash, but he never carried that much out at once. A hundred and fifty, two hundred, maybe, at most. Never more than that. She... He smiled slightly. She had so much, and she probably didn't even care. His suspicions were solidified when she walked out without so much as a thought for the change. He smiled at her comment, though. The mice wouldn't have been as useful if they weren't alive. They were ugly little things, however, all brown fur, and beady eyes, not the kind of mice people would usually keep as pets. Not the type one really enjoyed looking at for long, either. Too bad for them. They wouldn't really suffer much. Owls were quick eaters...if slow digesters.
He stepped out after her, pausing to give a quick nod to the lady at the counter. "Keep the change." He said quietly, then slipped out into the night after Naz, not having to look far to find her. He was quiet, but he stayed close to her as she began to walk, his steps smooth over the cracked pavement. Every once in a while, his arm brushed against hers, as if to reassure her that he was still there. Reassure, or remind, he wasn't quite certain, but it was comforting for him as well.
He looked down at her, with her pale hair and light skin, her light voice, and the constant smile on her lips. "Naz..." He said quietly, not wanting to disturb her train of thought, wherever it was. "How old are you? You don't have to be exact, just a rough estimate..." He was still curious, as to how she carried around such a large amount of money without worry, not that she seemed like the type to worry too much.
| [atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word spacing: .75px; text-align: justify; background: #222222; border-top: 4px inset #73F400; border-right: 4px outset #73F400; border-bottom: 4px inset #73F400; border-left: 4px outset #73F400; color: #000000; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.9; ]Tagged: cray
Notes: none
Muse: Still there, somehow
Other Ramblings: We'll See... |
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Post by naz on Jul 29, 2011 15:05:30 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #974c4e; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] was something about that place emotions have an echo does that make me crazy
♠ WORDS: 379 ♠ TAGS Mikael ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Gnarls Barkley The sound of her name made Naz tilt her head and slow her pace to look at Mikael, expression inquisitive as she waited for him to say more. “Yes?” she cooed softly, cocking her head slightly to the side. He had managed not to forget that he was there, and her smile returned after a second, inviting him to say what was on his mind.
His question was about her age.
Not thrown off in the least, she turned her head away and looked up at the sky, as if the answer was written in the stars. For all intents and purposes, it just might have been. She slowed to a stop, seemingly unable to walk and think at the same time. The mice scrabbled at the cardboard box they were stuck in.
Once she’d come to a conclusion, Naz turned to look at the man and smiled blissfully. “I don’t know,” she piped up, speaking the loudest she had since she’d met the other vampire. However, she quickly returned to her soft-spoken voice. “I. . . don’t really remember a whole lot, really. I think. . . I can estimate the minimum as seven hundred. . . but it could be more than that. . . . I’m sorry I can’t be more specific than that. . . .”
Smiling, she turned back toward the path ahead and headed for the park. The trip took them out of the district. Buildings became more scarce, the groups of people thinned out, and the area got darker. For the two vampires, though, it wouldn’t be much of a problem. The trees got thicker and the pavement and asphalt turned into grass and dirt. It was a lot easier on Naz’s bare feet, but she didn’t seemed bothered by the pavement and the tiny little rocks, either.
“This is the place. . . we’ll have to wait. . . for the owls. . . I don’t see them here yet. . . . Might be out nesting. . . . . I come here every day, though. . . or night. . . and they know I bring them food,” she muttered, sitting herself down in the grass, her legs curled under her. She looked up at Mikael and smiled softly, patting the ground beside her. ♠ NOTES Sorry it took me a little bit! |
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