Post by sidonia on Aug 3, 2007 1:31:36 GMT -5
Sidonia enters the tavern with a fast pace, her steps falling hard upon the wooden floor. Her appearance is much like it was last time she'd come to the place, and the time before that, and before that, and so on. The only difference that can be seen outwardly is the lowered hood, revealing the hollowed cheeks, stained pink with blood roses, and the dry, cracked lips. It's with this contradictory appearance that the girl takes a seat as far away from the piano as she can, sitting to face away from it, as if she and the instrument are in a battle and neither side will give in. Greetings are given to no one, the former pianist's sole focus on the chair she will occupy so as not to catch the eye of any who will question her strange condition and her whereabouts of the past week.
The symphony...one heard oft inside the walls of this humble place of gathering known as The Hanging Corpse Tavern. The symphony of metal links brushing and scraping brother and sister links that weave together to create the serpents that always plague the ‘elf’ with the memories of his life before the ultimate chance at free air was found. A chance that cast the former-druid from the bounds and limitations found by that of the steel cages...bounds and limitations of Arena walls placed before a stadium that seemed to drip with people, sick and twisted people. The type of sick and twisted people that brought their humble loved ones to watch living...or mostly living...or maybe even mostly dead beings end the existence of each other, all of which would be for the satisfaction of those sick and twisted people’s entertainment...for the screams of the sick and twisted people's loved ones...and most importantly...for the sake of the betting and the money that is in constant flow into the greedy pockets of the Arena owners. These serpents of the past, memories that will never fade mentally or physically, are what make the symphony, the creators of the morbid tune that lurks around the man and will for eternity. The sound would be heard even before the door gently swings open to allow the gladiator perfect passage through the portal via a netted hand. It would be this hand that would set upon the wood of the establishment, the serpent-clad arm being that which would bend as booted feet cease not their vigilant strides to carry Gondien's form upon his path. The arm then straightens pushing to door open to let to cool afternoon air into the tavern's own air to add a bit of freshness, vampiric freshness, into the scent of food, drink, the fireplace, and possibly the occasional dust. The rhythmic sounds of the 'elf's' worn leather boots alter from that of the Vailkrin streets to that of the wood boards comprising the Tavern's floor as the man crosses the threshold. Wooden portal closing behind him and resetting itself into it's perfectly fit frame the man's feet carry him a short time longer before they cease their movement, thusly also halting the symphony that accompanies the gladiator. Rather then a gaze to the fine women of the Tavern that the 'elf' usually finds himself conversing with, his musculature tightens, a musculature that is a bit more pronounced then that of your common elf, and those jaded grey eyes gaze up to the ceiling through blonde locks to look up at where the thief had escaped through the Tavern roof the previous night in order to flee from the gladiator's chains and rage. Curiosity plagues him like his memories, wondering if the hole was fixed or not. Regardless, the 'elf' would just stand there, bits of rage flickering deep in his optic hues as netted digits curl into his palms to clench fists as a string of grumbles and curses flows out from his mouth, once again pondering way to rip the poor thief limb from limb should he see her again.
It goes without saying, at this point, that Sidonia’s mind is one of the verge of breaking. Or perhaps it is already broken, and tendrils of it are reaching out to meld back together. Either way, the girl is caught in her own web; insanity on one side, reality on the other. It is toward the reality that she looks, like a moth drawn toward a candle, but she, unlike the insect, stays in the dark near willingly—she knows what it is to be burned. Her forehead rests against the wall when Gondien enters, the tangled curls pushed back behind elfin ears that twitch—not at his footsteps, but at the painful melody of his chains. Eyes closed, there she stays, using her ears to pick up on the movements of the tavern, the combination of her elf heritage and vampiric gift more than enough to do so. And there she stays, the remains of remains, for the girl is a corpse, no? Having often thought of herself as statuesque in her stillness, she finds she likes the analogy more than ever, now. Statues have no lives to lose; marble does not bleed; alabaster has no undead heart to be shut in the dark. Eventually tiring of her position against the wall, however, she retreats fully back into her chair, watching Gondien as he stares upward at the hole in the ceiling. Gradually letting her moon-pale orbs drift toward the makeshift skylight as well, she watches the colors of the sunset painted there as they brighten, then fade. When her gaze flickers to Gondien again, the past few conversations with him drift through her mind, fragments of them standing out like sparkling shards of glass against a wooden bar. And, suddenly, the girl has an epiphany: what a coward she is. A loathsome creature who contents herself with staring down the thing she fears from across the room. Yes, a sniveling coward indeed. Standing suddenly, the vampiress moves toward the elfin bouncer, thick cloak rustling against threadbare velvet; shredded hem rustling against wooden floor. Standing next to him and following his line of sight to the ceiling, then the sky, she leans over a little, eyes never leaving the clouds as they pass by. “You said you wanted me to play,” she whispers into the pointed ear. “Perhaps, with your help, I could find my music again?”
Gondien's ear twitches as the woman's words reach the pointed funnel for sound. A single blonde eyebrow raises for a moment as he looks down and to the side to view Sidonia fully. Jaded grey hues cast to her eyes, and only her eyes for the first time since she had returned. His eyes cast not to her tattered clothing, or any of the marble skin donning the statue of a vampiress' frame. His lips bend into a smile as he nods to her. "Anyway I can help...I will...you know that." He was also nudging at something...deep in that tone...something lurked...an offer...a sanguine offer that burnt at him as his rage.
Sidonia's dry lips part in a true smile, her first in days whether she be outside the tavern or in. With ghosts still residing her those pale eyes, though they seem to be fought back by the dying sunlight, she turns to her friend, apparently unaware of the thirsty need in his voice. "Will... will you just come and sit there with me, for a moment?" The request nearly embarrasses her with its smallness. "I... I need to walk before I can run, Gondien." That fragile smile that had been upon her features so fleetingly fades a little in her shyness, the corners of her mouth coming back from her hollow cheeks. "Please... just sit there with me?"
Gondien nods to Sidonia, he even dares a slight offering of his leather netted hand to take should she wish an escort, though he would not force it upon her. His jaded hues close to world around him as he smiles once again, his voice coming out past his lips as the 'elf' makes his response, as if his actions hadn't. "Of course I will Sidonia. As I have said...I'll do anything to help." Though this time the lusting need would not be present, it seemed to have faded out in the wind...though one can be assured that it was a returning discus...to return to its owner later.
Sidonia stares at the elf's hand for a moment before reaching forward with her own slightly quivering fingers and taking it, allowing him to escort her to the piano bench. She's frightened of touch, it seems-- but, as with the piano, she's finally collecting the shattered pieces of herself. Once the pair, so strangely making an odyssey from one side of the room to the other, comes to the instrument, Sidonia will let go of Gondien's arm, circling around to the bench as if trying to decide the best way to attack. A nervous hand is dragged through her hair, resting for a moment at her temple before she approaches the seat, pale eyes tracing over every knot and crevice in the ivory and mahogany.
Gondien just stands there, waiting there to watch her make her indecisive rounds of the bench. The 'elf' had thought that possibly she may eventually come to a decision and frowns upon finding her just staring at the surface. He sighs for a moment and thinks, even bringing his leather netted hand to cradle his clean chin in thought, though the action does bring his symphonic memoirs into life for a brief moment...and then yet another as he moves the hand yet again, though this time for a different approach. He takes a step forward to pull him up beside the vampiress deemed friend and looks to the bench as well, granted his gaze hardly lingers as hers as it is soon given unto the woman's face once more. The target of his netted hand would then be revealed as he slowly and gently moves to rest it against the woman's mid-back. "You've looked long enough have you not, Sidonia? It is time to leap..."
Sidonia immediately stiffens at Gondien's touch, not having expected a hand to be placed upon her back. After a moment, however, and with a good deal of effort on the girl's part, she relaxes... somewhat. But the words are what sink in, a slightly pointed ear catching them as they trip from his mouth. Painstakingly, a slipper-wearing foot is lifted then lowered, bringing her a step closer to the piano. Then another step, and another, until finally she stands at the bench. The blue eyes simply stare at it for a moment, and the fang gently probes her lip as she resists the habit of breaking the fragile skin there and sinking it into flesh. Finally turning her gaze to Gondien, the elf is given a determined look and a slight nod. "Yes, it is," she agrees quietly. And, with that simple statement, she slides onto the bench, cloak and skirts tucked behind her legs. What small amount of concentrated color there is in the girl's face leaves it and a slender hand is brought to her temple for a moment, as if comforting a slight ache there, before she trails the fingertips down her cheek, resting the hand eventually in her lap.
Gondien smiles a little as he feels her relax, then broadens said facial gesture as she finally agrees to his words. His jaded grey hues drift about her form finally as he traces her movements as she goes to sit. The 'elf' almost wanted to just stand there and watch her progress, but he had a vow, of sorts, to uphold. Once Sidonia is found just sitting there, the gladiator timed his approach. His boots shape with his feet as they take motion to carry his form to the piano bench, once again setting his morbid symphony of pitch black snakes into the freedom of the air. How ironic that a song of slavery may be let free no? Regardless, the 'music' ceases only upon the man finding his own form set upon the seat with which a pianist would in order to play their instrument. He then looks to his vampiric friend and waits.
Sidonia's breathing is steady, forced to be even and deep. As she closes the pale eyes, the lashes brush against the stains of blue exhaustion that ring them; perhaps she is trying to remember something? Or maybe forget it. Which doesn't matter, it can be supposed. For the girl finally opens her eyes again, whatever control she'd been trying to gain over her mind accomplished. A helpless smile spreads the full lips, one wide enough to reveal the dainty fangs she bears. Yes, this is home. Though she does not yet play-- not yet having the strength to run-- she feels a sense of peace that's eluded her for days and days. When she turns back to Gondien, glad he's there with her, it can be seen that she is mending-- slowly, but certainly. "Thank you," she whispers, knowing her friend will catch the words. It means the world to have someone there with her; she's tired of feeling alone.
Gondien observes every last motion, every last facial change. Through all of these observations the gladiator's face parts to make way for a smile, all boiling up to the humble little 'Thank you', which would split his face even more, to a dangerous point...the point of giving it all away...giving away his closely guarded secret. Thankfully nothing would truly be revealed, allowing to 'elf' to continue. His netted hand hesitates, feeling that it should do something...set on her shoulder...-something-. Sadly, he doesn't want to stress the pianist out too much as she is already trying to regain one part of her. The man shakes his head, setting his blonde locks into a flurry of a snow-blown wind reflecting the dim golden light of a just rising sun. "No need to thank me Sidonia...it is what I should do...I should be helping you...so I plan on doing exactly that."
Sidonia's eyes widen when the elf grins just a tad too widely, knowing how important it is that his secret remain as such. But she can't help but wonder at the smile on his face; -she's-certainly never seen it before, and has to wonder if there's anybody else who has. Unaware of the tension in Gondien's hand as the elf resists the urge to touch her in any small way, she tilts her head at him when he speaks, not quite understanding his meaning. "What you should do...?" she trails off in confusion, the dark brows furrowing a bit. But the triumph the girl has just achieved goes far beyond her curiosity, and she can't help but feel a sense of pride. A small thing to consider an accomplishment, perhaps, sitting at a piano; but when the instrument represents life taken, love lost, and sanity near-stolen all at once, it's a miracle she can stand to be in the same room as the thing.
Gondien nods at her question, his hand finally relenting to slowly place itself gently upon her shoulder, "Yes...it is what I should do as a friend..." He smiles again, though this one not nearly as endangering to his secret. He knew Sidonia would feel accomplishment and only then realizes that his hand is upon her shoulder. Mentally the man winces and should he feel any ill reactions coming from the woman he would make to draw his hand away from her, not wanting to cause any malcontent that would hinder her 'healing'.
Sidonia seems to accept the explanation, though on the word friend her head turns, seeing the netted hand upon her shoulder. At first she tenses, then relaxes, her eyes never leaving the fingers nestled in the thick velvet of her cloak. Slowly raising her gaze to the elf's, the girl offers a shy, fragile smile.
NOTE: "Gondien" is of course the awesome Veszmurss. Hee. Much luff for him!
Also: Any comments or replies are more than welcome! I love feedback-- even when it's negative. I listen; I learn. It's what I do. *shrug*
The symphony...one heard oft inside the walls of this humble place of gathering known as The Hanging Corpse Tavern. The symphony of metal links brushing and scraping brother and sister links that weave together to create the serpents that always plague the ‘elf’ with the memories of his life before the ultimate chance at free air was found. A chance that cast the former-druid from the bounds and limitations found by that of the steel cages...bounds and limitations of Arena walls placed before a stadium that seemed to drip with people, sick and twisted people. The type of sick and twisted people that brought their humble loved ones to watch living...or mostly living...or maybe even mostly dead beings end the existence of each other, all of which would be for the satisfaction of those sick and twisted people’s entertainment...for the screams of the sick and twisted people's loved ones...and most importantly...for the sake of the betting and the money that is in constant flow into the greedy pockets of the Arena owners. These serpents of the past, memories that will never fade mentally or physically, are what make the symphony, the creators of the morbid tune that lurks around the man and will for eternity. The sound would be heard even before the door gently swings open to allow the gladiator perfect passage through the portal via a netted hand. It would be this hand that would set upon the wood of the establishment, the serpent-clad arm being that which would bend as booted feet cease not their vigilant strides to carry Gondien's form upon his path. The arm then straightens pushing to door open to let to cool afternoon air into the tavern's own air to add a bit of freshness, vampiric freshness, into the scent of food, drink, the fireplace, and possibly the occasional dust. The rhythmic sounds of the 'elf's' worn leather boots alter from that of the Vailkrin streets to that of the wood boards comprising the Tavern's floor as the man crosses the threshold. Wooden portal closing behind him and resetting itself into it's perfectly fit frame the man's feet carry him a short time longer before they cease their movement, thusly also halting the symphony that accompanies the gladiator. Rather then a gaze to the fine women of the Tavern that the 'elf' usually finds himself conversing with, his musculature tightens, a musculature that is a bit more pronounced then that of your common elf, and those jaded grey eyes gaze up to the ceiling through blonde locks to look up at where the thief had escaped through the Tavern roof the previous night in order to flee from the gladiator's chains and rage. Curiosity plagues him like his memories, wondering if the hole was fixed or not. Regardless, the 'elf' would just stand there, bits of rage flickering deep in his optic hues as netted digits curl into his palms to clench fists as a string of grumbles and curses flows out from his mouth, once again pondering way to rip the poor thief limb from limb should he see her again.
It goes without saying, at this point, that Sidonia’s mind is one of the verge of breaking. Or perhaps it is already broken, and tendrils of it are reaching out to meld back together. Either way, the girl is caught in her own web; insanity on one side, reality on the other. It is toward the reality that she looks, like a moth drawn toward a candle, but she, unlike the insect, stays in the dark near willingly—she knows what it is to be burned. Her forehead rests against the wall when Gondien enters, the tangled curls pushed back behind elfin ears that twitch—not at his footsteps, but at the painful melody of his chains. Eyes closed, there she stays, using her ears to pick up on the movements of the tavern, the combination of her elf heritage and vampiric gift more than enough to do so. And there she stays, the remains of remains, for the girl is a corpse, no? Having often thought of herself as statuesque in her stillness, she finds she likes the analogy more than ever, now. Statues have no lives to lose; marble does not bleed; alabaster has no undead heart to be shut in the dark. Eventually tiring of her position against the wall, however, she retreats fully back into her chair, watching Gondien as he stares upward at the hole in the ceiling. Gradually letting her moon-pale orbs drift toward the makeshift skylight as well, she watches the colors of the sunset painted there as they brighten, then fade. When her gaze flickers to Gondien again, the past few conversations with him drift through her mind, fragments of them standing out like sparkling shards of glass against a wooden bar. And, suddenly, the girl has an epiphany: what a coward she is. A loathsome creature who contents herself with staring down the thing she fears from across the room. Yes, a sniveling coward indeed. Standing suddenly, the vampiress moves toward the elfin bouncer, thick cloak rustling against threadbare velvet; shredded hem rustling against wooden floor. Standing next to him and following his line of sight to the ceiling, then the sky, she leans over a little, eyes never leaving the clouds as they pass by. “You said you wanted me to play,” she whispers into the pointed ear. “Perhaps, with your help, I could find my music again?”
Gondien's ear twitches as the woman's words reach the pointed funnel for sound. A single blonde eyebrow raises for a moment as he looks down and to the side to view Sidonia fully. Jaded grey hues cast to her eyes, and only her eyes for the first time since she had returned. His eyes cast not to her tattered clothing, or any of the marble skin donning the statue of a vampiress' frame. His lips bend into a smile as he nods to her. "Anyway I can help...I will...you know that." He was also nudging at something...deep in that tone...something lurked...an offer...a sanguine offer that burnt at him as his rage.
Sidonia's dry lips part in a true smile, her first in days whether she be outside the tavern or in. With ghosts still residing her those pale eyes, though they seem to be fought back by the dying sunlight, she turns to her friend, apparently unaware of the thirsty need in his voice. "Will... will you just come and sit there with me, for a moment?" The request nearly embarrasses her with its smallness. "I... I need to walk before I can run, Gondien." That fragile smile that had been upon her features so fleetingly fades a little in her shyness, the corners of her mouth coming back from her hollow cheeks. "Please... just sit there with me?"
Gondien nods to Sidonia, he even dares a slight offering of his leather netted hand to take should she wish an escort, though he would not force it upon her. His jaded hues close to world around him as he smiles once again, his voice coming out past his lips as the 'elf' makes his response, as if his actions hadn't. "Of course I will Sidonia. As I have said...I'll do anything to help." Though this time the lusting need would not be present, it seemed to have faded out in the wind...though one can be assured that it was a returning discus...to return to its owner later.
Sidonia stares at the elf's hand for a moment before reaching forward with her own slightly quivering fingers and taking it, allowing him to escort her to the piano bench. She's frightened of touch, it seems-- but, as with the piano, she's finally collecting the shattered pieces of herself. Once the pair, so strangely making an odyssey from one side of the room to the other, comes to the instrument, Sidonia will let go of Gondien's arm, circling around to the bench as if trying to decide the best way to attack. A nervous hand is dragged through her hair, resting for a moment at her temple before she approaches the seat, pale eyes tracing over every knot and crevice in the ivory and mahogany.
Gondien just stands there, waiting there to watch her make her indecisive rounds of the bench. The 'elf' had thought that possibly she may eventually come to a decision and frowns upon finding her just staring at the surface. He sighs for a moment and thinks, even bringing his leather netted hand to cradle his clean chin in thought, though the action does bring his symphonic memoirs into life for a brief moment...and then yet another as he moves the hand yet again, though this time for a different approach. He takes a step forward to pull him up beside the vampiress deemed friend and looks to the bench as well, granted his gaze hardly lingers as hers as it is soon given unto the woman's face once more. The target of his netted hand would then be revealed as he slowly and gently moves to rest it against the woman's mid-back. "You've looked long enough have you not, Sidonia? It is time to leap..."
Sidonia immediately stiffens at Gondien's touch, not having expected a hand to be placed upon her back. After a moment, however, and with a good deal of effort on the girl's part, she relaxes... somewhat. But the words are what sink in, a slightly pointed ear catching them as they trip from his mouth. Painstakingly, a slipper-wearing foot is lifted then lowered, bringing her a step closer to the piano. Then another step, and another, until finally she stands at the bench. The blue eyes simply stare at it for a moment, and the fang gently probes her lip as she resists the habit of breaking the fragile skin there and sinking it into flesh. Finally turning her gaze to Gondien, the elf is given a determined look and a slight nod. "Yes, it is," she agrees quietly. And, with that simple statement, she slides onto the bench, cloak and skirts tucked behind her legs. What small amount of concentrated color there is in the girl's face leaves it and a slender hand is brought to her temple for a moment, as if comforting a slight ache there, before she trails the fingertips down her cheek, resting the hand eventually in her lap.
Gondien smiles a little as he feels her relax, then broadens said facial gesture as she finally agrees to his words. His jaded grey hues drift about her form finally as he traces her movements as she goes to sit. The 'elf' almost wanted to just stand there and watch her progress, but he had a vow, of sorts, to uphold. Once Sidonia is found just sitting there, the gladiator timed his approach. His boots shape with his feet as they take motion to carry his form to the piano bench, once again setting his morbid symphony of pitch black snakes into the freedom of the air. How ironic that a song of slavery may be let free no? Regardless, the 'music' ceases only upon the man finding his own form set upon the seat with which a pianist would in order to play their instrument. He then looks to his vampiric friend and waits.
Sidonia's breathing is steady, forced to be even and deep. As she closes the pale eyes, the lashes brush against the stains of blue exhaustion that ring them; perhaps she is trying to remember something? Or maybe forget it. Which doesn't matter, it can be supposed. For the girl finally opens her eyes again, whatever control she'd been trying to gain over her mind accomplished. A helpless smile spreads the full lips, one wide enough to reveal the dainty fangs she bears. Yes, this is home. Though she does not yet play-- not yet having the strength to run-- she feels a sense of peace that's eluded her for days and days. When she turns back to Gondien, glad he's there with her, it can be seen that she is mending-- slowly, but certainly. "Thank you," she whispers, knowing her friend will catch the words. It means the world to have someone there with her; she's tired of feeling alone.
Gondien observes every last motion, every last facial change. Through all of these observations the gladiator's face parts to make way for a smile, all boiling up to the humble little 'Thank you', which would split his face even more, to a dangerous point...the point of giving it all away...giving away his closely guarded secret. Thankfully nothing would truly be revealed, allowing to 'elf' to continue. His netted hand hesitates, feeling that it should do something...set on her shoulder...-something-. Sadly, he doesn't want to stress the pianist out too much as she is already trying to regain one part of her. The man shakes his head, setting his blonde locks into a flurry of a snow-blown wind reflecting the dim golden light of a just rising sun. "No need to thank me Sidonia...it is what I should do...I should be helping you...so I plan on doing exactly that."
Sidonia's eyes widen when the elf grins just a tad too widely, knowing how important it is that his secret remain as such. But she can't help but wonder at the smile on his face; -she's-certainly never seen it before, and has to wonder if there's anybody else who has. Unaware of the tension in Gondien's hand as the elf resists the urge to touch her in any small way, she tilts her head at him when he speaks, not quite understanding his meaning. "What you should do...?" she trails off in confusion, the dark brows furrowing a bit. But the triumph the girl has just achieved goes far beyond her curiosity, and she can't help but feel a sense of pride. A small thing to consider an accomplishment, perhaps, sitting at a piano; but when the instrument represents life taken, love lost, and sanity near-stolen all at once, it's a miracle she can stand to be in the same room as the thing.
Gondien nods at her question, his hand finally relenting to slowly place itself gently upon her shoulder, "Yes...it is what I should do as a friend..." He smiles again, though this one not nearly as endangering to his secret. He knew Sidonia would feel accomplishment and only then realizes that his hand is upon her shoulder. Mentally the man winces and should he feel any ill reactions coming from the woman he would make to draw his hand away from her, not wanting to cause any malcontent that would hinder her 'healing'.
Sidonia seems to accept the explanation, though on the word friend her head turns, seeing the netted hand upon her shoulder. At first she tenses, then relaxes, her eyes never leaving the fingers nestled in the thick velvet of her cloak. Slowly raising her gaze to the elf's, the girl offers a shy, fragile smile.
NOTE: "Gondien" is of course the awesome Veszmurss. Hee. Much luff for him!
Also: Any comments or replies are more than welcome! I love feedback-- even when it's negative. I listen; I learn. It's what I do. *shrug*