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Post by shinigami on Aug 27, 2008 14:55:19 GMT -8
Marit reminds Valentine of an ice-maiden. Her pale hair, her pale skin; her eyes. The way she looks at him; the way she moves, even, as if frost would crack beneath her boots. Cold. Mean. Bitch. He wants to kiss her warm and see what happens.
Wha-hoah. When she turns, so sharp, and strides in the opposite direction, he spins to catch up, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "Of course I don't want -- " Whoa, there, Valentine. Remember how you're a diplomat? Maybe want to tap into some of that? "It's true," he says, cautiously, "That what you are -- I wish you weren't. But it's also true that I think it would be one of the biggest mistakes of my life if I didn't at least try to spend some time with you. I mean," he smiles, faintly, but it doesn't reac his eyes, "you don't just kill and eat people, right? You volunteer at an orphanage. That's cool."
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Post by lily tomlinson on Aug 27, 2008 15:05:58 GMT -8
"Not all vampires are killers," Marit said, regarding him with a cool look. "And some vampires, if they are, only kill those who deserve it. The rapists, the murderers, the molesters. Maybe you should get your facts straight before judging a whole species."
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Post by shinigami on Aug 27, 2008 15:09:19 GMT -8
He stops. He swallows. It's true. He's very prejudiced against vampires. The hatred burgeons on the unreasoning side. But he rebounds, fairly quickly; says, fairly quietly, but of course she can hear, considering: "And not all men are rapists and molesters. Maybe you should get your facts straight before judging an entire gender."
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Post by lily tomlinson on Aug 27, 2008 15:19:29 GMT -8
"I don't judge all men," Marit said with a smirk, "I can tell the difference between a nice one and the evil one. I'm just not interested."
She turned again, swiftly, all vampire grace, and leaned against a wall. "But I have my reasons for disliking the gender. Mine are founded by personal experience, growing up in an age where women were mistreated. That doesn't mean I think that every man should be killed. Just the ones who abuse other women."
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Post by shinigami on Aug 27, 2008 15:42:14 GMT -8
Valentine is silent as he leans against the wall opposite Marit. He folds his arms across his chest and his pretty (yes, they are; even though he's a man, and not very effeminate) gray eyes drift down to the ground, to Marit's shadow, then up again, to touch her face. He smiles, lopsided. "Okay."
He isn't going to push her. Not too much, anyway. That isn't Valentine's style. Besides, if it's Fate, it'll happen -- just happen. Things will continue to occur. He believes that as deeply as he believes in true love, which is deeply indeed. Indeed, indeed: it's an intrinsic part of Valentine's philosophy. He was well-named.
Then the smile fades: "So you've killed people, then."
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Post by lily tomlinson on Aug 27, 2008 15:56:20 GMT -8
Marit raises an eyebrow, and her look is nothing but ice. Though, beyond that, one would not be able to see that it was slowly warming to him. Curses to Fate. "Yes."
It was all she said. There was no need to explain herself anymore. She'd already made references to her killing. Those she'd caught trying to defile another women. Those who had tried against her. But lately, it had been a rare thing. She was always on the road, always surrounded by people, that she never came across the helpless. She'd been off with her nature lately.
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Post by shinigami on Aug 27, 2008 16:56:36 GMT -8
"Okay," he says, not unphased by how cold she seems, but still, on some level, easy with it. "The thing is -- " He pauses, then just shakes his head. "I can't imagine killing anybody. Not for any reason."
Which is when Marit hears the dim echo of a bootfall. Around the corner. Out-of-place. Hey, hey, is somebody coming? Why, yes.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Sept 4, 2008 13:58:29 GMT -8
"It wouldn't be in your nature," Marit said, for once agreeable. "When I was human...." She tilted her face toward the ground, not really comfortable with divulging such personal information. But his sincerity, and the fact that he was one of the nice ones tended to get her speaking more than anyone else. "I wasn't so... harsh. I was naive, a happy girl. But there are things that happen in life that change a person. Becoming what I am now was just the final break from who I used to be.... I...."
She trailed off at the soft sound of boots falling on the pavement. Her eyes narrow, and her expression smooths out into one of ice. And when she lifts her head, her eyes are as silver as the moonlight cascading down through the night. Hard eyes. Guarded. Someone was coming.
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Post by shinigami on Sept 7, 2008 0:04:01 GMT -8
Someone was coming. Hail to the king. Darren walks around the corner.
But see. He doesn't just walk. It's almost an insult to say that he does. He's a vampire and he's got liquid grace the way water has liquid grace. Effortlessly. He's not trying very hard to disguise the fact that, yes kiddies, he's a predator, and yes kiddies, he's hungry, and give the kiddies a prize, he's dangerous the way weapons always are.
His lips? Curved into a smirk. "Don't stop on account of me. I couldn't help overhearing most of what came before." Beat. "Your voices carry." He shakes his head, sadly. "Your type do whine, don't you?" Beat. "And to whom do you feel it necessary to unburden? The Crow boy, isn't it? Well, well."
Just what the hell is Darren doing at the Redfern Orphanage this time of night? Well, maybe he was going to adopt. Yeah. That's it.
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Post by shinigami on Sept 7, 2008 0:19:01 GMT -8
Valentine's eyebrows drew together, expressive, in a sort-of furrow when Marit began to talk about being human. About being naive. About being a happy girl. The expression might look a bit too grim; grimmer, anyway, than he'd want. He's just listening intently. He didn't hear the sound of somebody coming. He didn't know why, exactly, Marit snapped back into an ice-sculpture, with eyes that glimmered in a way his never would, all animal radiant. "What's -- "
At least, not until Darren came into sight. He didn't like the way the vampire was talking to Marit. Not one smidge. To be fair, there just isn't very much that Darren could say, no matter what the tone, that Valentine would like. Prejudice is a hard thing to escape -- it's like gravity, when it's deep-rooted enough in instinct. He frowns. "Darren or Jakob?" A pause, and then, annoyed, "What do you mean 'your type'?"
Yes. Yes, he IS going to pick a fight with Darren over his TONE when he said YOUR TYPE to Marit. Ironic, considering.
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Post by lily tomlinson on Sept 10, 2008 14:18:08 GMT -8
Marit resisted the urge to slam her hand over Valentine's mouth to quiet him. The boy should realize not to speak such nonsense to such a man. Marit instinctively knew this was not one of the nice men. This was the type of man that she would kill if he were mortal, but feared to the point of feeling paralyzed as an immortal. Yes, even she had heard of the Mueller brothers. Neither one was a man she'd wished to come across.
She found she couldn't speak, her throat locked, frozen in fear. Her eyes gleamed like a cat caught before headlights, and her back was pressed as flat to the wall behind her as she could get. But like when she was human, she knew silence would do no good. Running was the only option. She wanted to flee, it was her first instinct, a survival tactic, but she wasn't the only one she had to worry about anymore. There was Val... and she couldn't leave him. Especially not with his back-talking.
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Post by shinigami on Sept 11, 2008 12:09:12 GMT -8
Darren or Jakob. Darren inclines his head at his name; he has nothing to gain by leaving them wondering which he is. At Valentine's question, he raises an eyebrow. The devil is in the details. The gesture was so precise. Almost delicate. The way a rattlesnake's fang is delicate. The way a thin pane of ice is. His gaze slides from the boy to Marit, who is clearly terrified, who is clearly arrested in the moment before flight, unable to ACT.
The way his gaze slides -- well, if it had been a hand, it would've left a bloody handprint behind on Valentine's face.
He looks at Marit for a second. Thoughtful. Maybe hunting a vampire would give him a bit of the old thrill. The thought of it, however, just makes him tired; makes him weary. He wishes - well. Wishes were horses beggars would ride and eat pretty sweet too. His gaze includes them both, now.
"Obtuse, aren't you," he says, noncommital. Then: "Run along, kids. I'm just here for a snack."
Then? Then Darren'll stroll on towards the kids dormitory.
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Post by shinigami on Sept 11, 2008 14:11:07 GMT -8
Except.
Valentine. He looks astonished. There's something that's occasionally naked about his expressions; they're just so damned honest. He looks astonished, glances briefly at Marit, then back at Darren, and then -- well, when Valentine looks truly angry, and his eyes take on that particular stormy cast, when he looks grim and focused and poised, he's actually intimidating.
Maybe not to this crowd. But still.
" - waaaaait one second," he says, stepping into Darren's path, hands held up. His voice is low, but tense. "This isn't a restaurant."
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Post by shinigami on Sept 16, 2008 21:13:13 GMT -8
"Mm. Have you looked at the name on this orphanage?" While Valentine blanches, horrified, Darren flicks him. He just used his index finger, but it's still enough to make the silver-eyed witch take a step back; there'll be a bruise. Darren says, smooth, "Or perhaps you'd rather I snatched a human child away from its vacationing parents? And then there'd be an Amber Alert; the humans'd whine."
Val has put a hand over the place where Darren flicked him; the stubborn look is back in his eyes. The glint therein might be defined as steely. He's conscious of Marit watching still, but he's trying not to think about it. He knows that either of them could take him in a physical fight. Still, he had a plan, sort of. "I'd rather you didn't prey on helpless children; in fact, I think you should leave. Right now."
Darren regards Val for a loooong moment.
Then: "I'll make you a deal," Darren says, with a smile; sharp, and lovely, and cruel. Makes him look boyishly gleeful, all lit-up -- it's a complete lie. He doesn't light up, not Darren, not for a long time. "I won't touch the children, OR your little girlfriend, if you agree to be my snack."
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Post by lily tomlinson on Sept 18, 2008 16:26:38 GMT -8
There was talking, there were threats, and then sassing. And despite the fact that Marit was absolutely terrified of the Muellers, she was very protective. Of the children inside, not Val. Of course not. But try as she might, she could not make herself just brush him off as an idiot for backtalking a Mueller. He could be putting himself in needless danger, and that just raised her hackles at thinking he could be hurt.
And then there was the children. She was very protective of them, willing even to put herself between them and a vampire. She loved them, yes, just as she imagined she would have loved her own daughter. And with the threats, she'd silently been steeling herself, trying to find some sort of courage.
But then there was the deal, and the uncharacteristic thought came to her mind, 'Not my soulmate'. That was the final straw for her. So, despite her fear, she found her gaze hardening, her shoulders tensing as she moved in between Darren and Val.
"Find some other witch boy to snack on," she hissed. "He's mine."
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