Post by Xavier Darnai on Jun 16, 2014 21:11:40 GMT
Obvious Illusion: If Reader had the ability to transport herself from one place to another, she would. Perhaps it was easy to come to the mom and pop book shop, the Nook certainly something to enjoy once she was finished with her work. She so happened to have slid into one of the two available booths, the fake leather sticky against her skin. For a vampire, it was rare for her to be hot. Truthfully, being dead was supposed to solidify the ability of no longer being a warm blooded creature. So, could it have been poison? Moods? Hormones? She wasn't supposed to have much of the last one, at least. Nevermind, many did not know her in her line of work as being a designer. As being Reader that is. Yet, she sat there in that black business suit, where those slacks hugged the curve of her hips and her blouse had been rolled up to the elbows. It's light blue color certainly bright against the green sheen of her skin. Perhaps it was someone else's medication. Or someone's extra curricular activities that had the Toreador feeling uneasy, coated with a sheen of perspiration and the feeling of pins and needles jabbing into her flesh. Eyes were pinpoint and the color had darkened to an almost black appearance instead of the typical emerald green and navy blue mixture. She had put her hair up, the long lengths now in a messy bun and she looked like a human strung out upon a flu virus.
Xavier Darnai: Every so often it was utterly beneficial to be some place no one would look for you first. That extra ten minutes of privacy could make all the difference in the outlook on a person's evening, and tonight that's the only hope he had to shoot for. Slipping in through the door of the Nook, he ran his hands through his hair a bit to shake it up and look a bit more like himself. Considering the people that had managed to follow him from Reno, every little added touch of distraction helped. Shoulders relaxed a little as he let a breath out, he looked around the book store before moving through the rows until he spotted her in that semi private reading area. Consdiering the number of times she had unceremoniously joined him at his own table, he figured it only fair to slide down into a chair himself. Unbuttoning the suit coat as he did, his right leg came up and rest his ankle over his left knee with the muted thunk. Elbows on the arms of the chair allowed his fingers to steeple as he looked over them at her like some sort of film noir villain, raising a brow. "You're looking worn, Reader."
Obvious Illusion: "Thank you." She took that as a compliment. Her dark eyes lifted, the sclera slightly yellowed. Of course, it only added to her wicked witch appearance. She took a deep breath in and shook her head. She would push her fingers a little through the fly aways of her curls. Some fine, baby hairs fanned down over her forehead and she seemed a little confused. Of course, it could be perplexed. She had some designs in front of her, sketches really that she had attempted to be working on. A charcoal pencil was within her fingertips, turned up and hugging the web of flesh between her first and second digit next to her thumb. "How are you?" She asked politely, quietly... Her eyes barely grazed the man's face and his venue of attire for the evening. And suddenly, suddenly... She couldn't sit still, shifting again until the tip of the lead was touching a fresh section of paper and she began to sketch angular lines of the person in front of her. She had a fear, once upon a time. A fear of feeding. A fear of taking from others. She had a fear of taking too much. See... Her feeding was mostly violent. Mostly ... dangerous. She needed violence in that moment. Screams that turned into gurgles that leeched into silence. Her fingers aided the movement of that pencil, grinding it along the white paper.
Xavier Darnai: A brief review of her state left him rather curious about it, but for the moment he'd watch on, figuring that would be the easiest way to learn. A few things came to mind off the bat, but in the grand scheme of things he was still 'young', as it were. "Aggitated. Business lately has had me a bit all over the place, and I've taken a few latch-ons over it." There was a slight tilt and twist of his hea, both eyebrows bouncing up once. "I was visited by some bint out've Reno who decided to take a few too many liberties." There was a twitch in his eye as he said it. Temperance had been a difficult thing to handle over the whole detail, and it had taken everything he had not to shoot the woman right in the face. Fingers pressed together firmly as he furrowed his brow a bit, noting the sudden shifting in her posture. Leaning back a bit more in the seat, his hands dropped into his lap, folding there. Maybe you don't need to keep guessing as much as you wish you had to, boy. A slow press of his breath through his nose was made. There wasn't much for it now, he wasn't about to throw himself into the fire over it, he could only hope that perhaps her willpower was strong enough to prevent this from being a dance that neither of them would be happy about.
Obvious Illusion: "Latch-ons?" She questioned him. It seemed Reader always had a question for him. Whether it was about his work, his person, his hobbies, or his clothes... She always seemed to come up with something that brought her lips open and her interest peaked about the man opposite of her? She kept her head down, her jaw was tight. Her mouth was clenched and she rolled her lower lip over her teeth - allowing in that moment for the pearly whites of her upper line to bite down into the morsel. She wore not jewelry, she wore no make-up. Surpisingly enough, even her Glamour abilities wasn't enough to cover the illness of her skin. No doubt it was just a ... mishap with an infected human. She sucked in a breath, stealing glances from the man in front of her as she outlined the tilt of his head, the angle of his jaw, and the stubbornness upon his face with the tip of her charcoal. He seemed stressed. Tension radiated from his person as her shoulders dropped and she got her face a little closer to the task at hand.
Xavier Darnai: "Occasionally keeping out of the public eye requires using some locations that I wouldn't normally bother with." Bandaged fingers tapped against the back of his right hand, thinking about just how much of a disaster the three day trip to Nevada had been. "Every now and then I run into someone who doesn't have a bloody clue about what a personal boundary is and they decide that we're fast friends." The annoyance in his voice was evident. "One've'em went as far as tracking me across the country over it." His eye twitched again, teeth clicking together as he set his jaw. "I'd rather not have to point out to people what bloody idiots they can be, but if it comes right to it I will."
Obvious Illusion: "Yes well, perhaps they take liberties because of how absolutely handsome you are. Or the way you wear that suit. Or how utterly fuckable you seem." Reader raised a brow at that man. It was true. He was handsome. He was well clothed. He was quite... mysterious. "It's that whole bad boy theme you've got going on. The Double Agent... You know, the '007 complex.'" That's what Reader liked to call it, at least. She went for bad boys. Far too many of them, and it got her strung along. Hell, she had literally her heart ripped out by one. She smirked. No, she didn't want to change them. Hadn't even -thought- about changing them. But she thought that maybe she could get them to care a bit. To fuck. To put up. To engage with her. It was all a futile attempt. She needed attention. She needed ... more. That's why she left... Every time. "Some women will stop at nothing." She offered Xavier. It was obvious he was disgruntled. She let out a breath. Gathered another one. She continued running down the tip of the grey lead against the paper, occassionally looking up at him and those red eyes.
Xavier Darnai: "Double oh seven." It didn't seem to click with the Brit at first, prompting a brief raise of his eyebrow. A split second later the proper thought process clicked into place. "Ah, right, Flemming's work. Never read them myself, though I've heard the films seem to have a pretty strong following." Shrugging his shoulders lightly, he gave a half of a smirk. "Something about the idea've wanting what you can't have, having what you can't keep? Mm. Suppose it's as strong a theory as any. Still." Leaning forward out of the seat, he dropped his right foot to the floor and planted his elbows on his knees. Resting his chin in his basketed hands. "Still, something's eating at you, neh? Or is it simply that something's not eating at all, and that's what's the matter." Rust red eyes stayed levelled on Reader as he sat there, rather engaged. Unsure of what the proper word for their particular dance, it wasn't the sort of worry that one friend had for another that had him asking, but perhaps curiosity. Reader intrigued him, which was more than most managed.
Obvious Illusion: The charcoal was tossed down. It bounced, the pencil seemed to become fearful of its owner as it rolled towards Xavier in a hurried manner. She seemed to contemplate her mood. It was a harsh one. She twisted her fingers upwards. Of course, that was with her fingers that had just moments ago held the charcoal pencil within her grip. The sketch of the man had been abandoned. She put her thumb of her free hand across the man's jaw. No - not Xavier's in particular- it was across the sketch itself. She smeared it, giving the two dimensional form a five o'clock shadow. Her chest flattened in exhale. "They're alright. Dangerous. Devilish. Demanding. Do you know about that? Demanding? Your workmust be." She was in a snit. The tinge to her skin should have been warning enough. The ill creature before him twisted. She shifted again. "Like you would know how to eat someone like me. Too demanding. Too tempting. Too sickening for your black and white tastes. You are engaged, anyways. Work. Time. Effort." She picked up the sketch. Then she dropped it. No, instead, she thrust it away from her. Leaning back as he leaned forward, she felt his stare. She narrowed her darkened eyes at him. "I ate. God damn it. I ate. I fed!" She hissed at him. So much so that those fangs were displayed along with her irritation.
Dancing ln Ashes: Another night, another little black dress. Again, clothed in the indifference to her surroundings, the woman entered. Billowy sleeves, slit from cuff to just shy of the shoulder, caught the air as the door opened and the pressure changed, and along with the fluttered of that inky mane, made her movements slightly less feline and more dynamic for a moment. Then she settled into her standard prowl, hips and heels adopting an idle rhythm of clackclicks that carried her towards the shelves and fingers toward the exposed spines of the nearest books.
Xavier Darnai: It was not the first time in his life that Xavier had stared down the barrel of a loaded gun while someone's finger was on the trigger and the safety had been switched off. He had seen the black more than once, dragged to the depths of hell and thrown onto the rocks and left for dead. It is said that which does not kill you stronger, but sometimes it leaves you broken. The impending threat sent something through him that he had not experienced in quite some time; the sensation of a true threat. His lip curled into a short and defiant grin as his eyes opened a bit more. He didn't doubt she could hear the double-speed beating in his chest in her state, or the quiet and seemingly labored albeit even breathing. "You'd be surprised what I've been able to take on in the past, Reader, there's a reason I'm always working. Stagnation'll be the death've me." That grin widened, a bit like a shark as he noted the showing of her fangs. Anecdotal evidence was never quite as thrilling as having the true and unequivocal confirmation. The sound of the door behind him caught his attention, but he knew better than to look away from a predator.
Obvious Illusion: "Stagnation is nothing more than a phase before rebirth. It is a bit where one can gather themselves and become something else. Or invoke another identity. A truth. A passion. A pleasure. A bit of something they wanted to be and had only the decency in the past of being held back." She tipped her chin. It was obvious she was certainly going through the emotions of a desire unprotected. Her fingertips sunk back into the thickness of her bound up hair, curls pushed up into that messy bun and her neck was certainly exposed. Her other hand lifted now, laying her left cheek upon her palm. Perspiration gathered across her forehead, dripping down her right temple now. The tips of those fangs were still poking out from her lips, deadly sharp and just pushing against her lower lip in enough of a threat to break through her own skin. The hint of Dove, pomegranate, and her own very personable smell seemed to rise among the dust and hints of stale coffee and blueberry scones from the little eatery and coffee nook. She narrowed her eyes at the man before her - irritated now her fingers had nothing to do as her weight moved again. In that half booth, she lounged. Her elbow hit the table and she let her lower lip escape into a pout. The points of her fangs dug deeper. "Nothing. There is no point. It's mute." Reader said, as if the man could follow her train of thought. She'd have to start over again. It was a sickening expectation. She pulled her gaze away from her prey that was no longer her prey. The chime of the door sounded, and she closed her eyes as if to center herself as her body digested the toxins, the process halted by the infected blood.
Dancing ln Ashes: Rich and sultry like over-aged wine, her voice whispered through the stacks, humming softly something that, if one listened and had lived long enough for culture to find them--willingly or otherwise--would be recognized as the ending notes of The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy. Manicured digits, dipped in rosewood, drummed soundlessly over titles until they paused upon Wind, Sand, and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The song changed then, the death throes of the Sugarplum Fairy stilling, only to rise again as the Moonlight Sonata. Hooking a nail at the top of the spine, the tilted the book back, allowing it to fall free of the shelf and into her grasp. Passing a hand over the cover, curiosity canted her head and focused her eyes, though lips still loosed the beginning of one of Beethoven's finest.
Xavier Darnai: It was possible that Reader had some idea about just how close she might have been with her statement of invocation, but he had been exceptionally careful about it. Xavier was shrouded in mystery to most, and even the few who knew more than was safe were protected for other reasons. As she took to her own hair and sat back a bit with relaxed posture, he sat up as well, looking back now to investigate the source of the sound that had caught his attention during their Mexican Standoff. With a raised brow, he tilted enough to catch a proper glimpse through the various obstructions, allowing very keen eyes to piece together the few glimpses of the image he could see. Clenching his jaw once, he sat back in the chair an turned his attention to Reader again. "I've seen my share've peddled lies, love, and you're among the better. But this's not your best work." He wasn't deterred by her statement. It could have been whatever she was suffering through that had her so distracted, but either way Xavier did not seem to be afraid of poking the bear.
Obvious Illusion: "Fuck you." That was her first thought. That was her very first dirty deed. She hissed at him, no scrounging for something to say in their perculiar battle. She wanted to reach across, sink her fingers into his neck and let the blood run down her tongue. Of course, in the heat of the moment, the distraction was keen to the new player that joined their evening. While the sclera of her eyes darkened even further, the abrupt change in her body would have the whites now upon the edges of neon yellow. Blood was being ruined within her veins and she struggled to remain upon task. The dance, the tango, the verbal jousting was becoming a little more on target. "As if your work is any better in the heat of the moment. Always on target? Bullets never stray, no?" She licked her lower lip now, craining her neck. She would let her chin fall forward, her body tightening and coiling as if an animal was ready to scavange for their dinner. Her tongue lashing to Xavier was certainly one of interest - she hadn't said something so very ... unexpected, no? The next scent was familiar. The breeze teased it to her nostrils among the honey of golden aged books and hymms. Reader enjoyed the classics, but lately she was all about the top 40's of their newer culture and the beat of the bass.
Dancing ln Ashes: The back of the book had been devoured and the first few pages followed with the linear flash of a golden gaze, descending line by line before climbing again. That song continued as a soft accompaniment to the act, affording it an air of leisure rather than one of studious investment. As for what drifted along with the notes, her scent remained much the same: rosewood and foreign spice; subtlety, softness, and heat. If she heeded the others, there was no outward sign of it.
Xavier Darnai: "Been on the mind more'n once, from the sound've it..." It was a quiet retort, smirking a bit as he took hold of the arms of the chair, watching her rather deliberately. Every move, twist, and change of her posture, preparing for the worst. "I do my best to prevent missed shots as best I can, but targets can be unpredictable, can't they." The change in her eyes was disconcerting, and his own glance shifted to the side as he looked to the woman he'd run across the evening prior. There was a powder keg to be had here. Too many secrets in play that he wasn't prepared for certain people to have. Grapevines in his line of work were deadly. "So tell me, Reader. Ravenous as you are, what makes you think I wouldn't take a shot, even if it might miss." He was trying to keep her attention hooked, focused on something, fairly sure the less she was trying to focus on, the more focus she'd be able to give it.
Obvious Illusion: There wsa a breath gathered. No doubt, it was the tip of her tongue that held the silver edge and she'd slash it across him without so much as a second thought. He would drag her attention back. The shape that meandered had Reader's vision pulled as the one of the two employees walked past with a stack of books to reshelve and a disgruntled look upon her face. The Toreador seemed to squirm within her seat. Not quite having the decorum of past visits. No, there was a painful realization that she felt very much so plastered underneath a microscope - the light burning her skin. Even the clothing felt rough upon her flesh while senses were heightened and a shoulder rolled in a substitute shrug gathered. "You would. That is the killer in you. Never forgiving. Always protecting. I like stagnation. I like not to constantly have someone expect something of me. That's what ruins the allure. That's what makes people so bored. I don't expect anything of anyone anymore. Not demanding enough. Not tempting enough. You can go about your merry way and I'll be here when you're done. That's not enough for some people. It was too much for others to fathom, see. That's where the loss happened. Boredom." Her movements now were almost painful. Muscles under skin seemed to contract of their own accord and her jaw worked as if she were trying not to find the scents around her alluring. Masochistic tendencies swarmed within her brain. Visions. Temptation. The beating of his heart. The double time. The snap of books closing. The hiss of the new pot of brewed coffee. She twisted her fingers down from her hair to latch her other hand over her ear. She rocked herself for that moment, as if a child would when they were being scolded.
Dancing ln Ashes: Abandoning the nonfiction novel to its proper place, the woman wound her way through the shelves, seeking the classic literature and at last slipping into view of those in back. Before the man's eyes had even fully found her, golden irises were leveled to meet him, heavily lashed lids curving with the caress of the smile below. Whenever you're ready...The words slid seamlessly into the song on the back of a near-whisper too clear, too audible and too contradictorily soft, given the distance between them. The sonata recovered a beat later as though no interruption had occurred. Attention returned to her apparent search with the muted interest of a just-fed cat roving through canary cages.
Xavier Darnai: "That's the best've it, isn't it, knowing that there's no anchor attached. No dependency, just reliability." She practically looked to be crawling in her skin as she twisted, holding herself that way. So far from the typically refined Reader he had become familiar with. Whatever she'd had, it was playing against her with a level of cruelty he hadn't seen since his own brutal detox. But that was a lifetime ago. The double-beat kept itself steady, even if it was twice as fast as a healthy heart, and despite the rush he looked calm as still water with no sign of wind. As Nick's 'mother' approached, Xavier's eyes turned to her again, once more pouring over her with the same sort of investigative gaze as he'd given her before. She liked her out of place details to be lined up; a game for manipulators and deceptionists. Moments ago he had been one of the players in the tennis match, and now he found himself the net. It was a position he did not envy.
Obvious Illusion: "No. They didn't like reliability. It wasn't much of a game. They didn't care for the court. They always wanted a changing turf. I couldn't give them that." Her own nails seemed to bite into her palms. She twisted her ears, the wayward locks were free - some falling out of the haphazard bun. Her flesh was still tinged green. The bilirubin of broken down blood swimming in her eyes now. It began to turn her skin a decent shade of sickening green-gold. She gathered another breath and shifted. The sound. That voice. It was ever familiar. But Reader had a hard time placing it. The connotation's blue. Yes... She remembered her. The woman of poise, prestige, and a tight leash. The muscles were clenching over bone. Her stomach twisted. The perspiration of dead flesh dampened her back against the fake leather of the booth around her. "You are being beckoned." She said to Xavier. It was obvious how the man was needed. The game was enacted. It had begun. Her skin crawled and her body began to ache. Her head was pounding and her eyes briefly narrowed - leaving his face to gaze openly at the one upon the brink of the hardwood flooring and Nick's very family.
Dancing ln Ashes: His gaze revealed the same thing as the previous day. Long hair, longer legs. Inhuman eyes, a privately amused smile. Elegant clothing: half club, half modern aristocrat. Steep stilettos, and an utter inability to reconcile her existence with her surroundings. If his nose was as keen as his eyes, he, and Reader in her nervous sensitivity, would likely catch a strange scent beneath her perfume, drifting from her lips. It seemed thick and dizzying, like a poison it pained you not to take, a blood beyond blood; it smelled of craving and Id incarnate. It was not there the night before. Gaze caught by a gaudy cover, she lingered nearby in the Romance section, staring a book titled His Sword, Her Virtue. She already had a guess what she would find inside.
Xavier Darnai: "Needing someone else to challenge you simply means not knowing who you are yourself. It's no way to live." Pressing his hands down to the cushioning, he forced himself up and out of the seat. Reader was correct, he was being requested of a fashion. "Believe it or not, this's another latch on've sorts. At least this one doesn't reek've body glitter'n cheap oils." The last portion had been spoken quietly under his breath as he slid the bandaged hand into the pocket of his slacks, His right arm remained free, hand loose at his side. Once more he gave Reader a very keen look. Xavier's senses were... disciplined. He knew better than to take them for granted, and whats more he rarely left himself open to the advantage of others. He didn't need to use them all, and some he'd learned long ago he couldn't rely on at all at times. The woman's scent went unnoticed for the moment, despite his false warnings of offense. "Two seconds, love." Turning away from Reader he moved through the Book Nook, approaching Isis at a steady gait. "Reaction's got nothing to do with preparedness, but something tells me that's rather immaterial here."
Obvious Illusion: Her fingers dug into her temples. She would stroke both of those veins underneath as if they still beat her blood away from her brain. Those dark eyes of hers narrowed to closing. A challenge? She needed a challenge. She needed someone who wouldn't be bored to tears with a woman who wasn't demanding. Or, was Xavier right? Perhaps she needed to change tactics. Perhaps she needed to hit replay. As her eyes drew together, the darkened sclera of that now golden color certainly seemed to burn. "They never challenged me. It was the other way around. Not enough excitement, I think." She thought. They were interested, but then the match ended. There was no further need to chase. She struggled to take a breath as the burning started like a small fire inside of her. The double-treads of a heart beating was the cause for her chaos, was it not? She pulled out that smart phone. She shook her head, as if trying to clear the confusion. The fly aways from that pulled up hair caressed the yellowed flesh of her face, tickling across her cheek bones as clenched thumbs would stroke across the keyboard. "Go. Don't keep a lady waiting." Of course, the navy blue and emerald green of her dual colored eyes were almost black by now. Rods and cones adjusting to let more light inside the darkened corner of the Nook. The nickname... It confused her. It was nothing more than a term of endearment. As the battle within her body brewed, she dug her fingertips down into the phone. The tap and hum, the chimes went off. She dropped the iPhone onto the tiny table and curled her fingers back of her left hand once again over her ear. When Xavier was out of sight, she dropped in agony further down - bent in half upon that booth as her clothes clung to her damp skin.
Dancing ln Ashes: The woman ran a finger over the raised cover, tracing the silhouette of a muscle-bound Scotsman, bemused placidity dressing preternaturally symmetrical features. "Hanger on? Hardly. We shared a bar once and too few words. She remained focused on the book until he was beside her, at which point eyes snapped towards him and a languid smirk settled into place. "Shall we dally on the weather and proper introductions, or dispense with the pleasantries of social foreplay entirely? I have time for either." There always seemed to be a devious delight lurking behind the cultured propriety of her voice, an audible smile echoing in the depths of fixated eyes.
Xavier Darnai: Every so often it was utterly beneficial to be some place no one would look for you first. That extra ten minutes of privacy could make all the difference in the outlook on a person's evening, and tonight that's the only hope he had to shoot for. Slipping in through the door of the Nook, he ran his hands through his hair a bit to shake it up and look a bit more like himself. Considering the people that had managed to follow him from Reno, every little added touch of distraction helped. Shoulders relaxed a little as he let a breath out, he looked around the book store before moving through the rows until he spotted her in that semi private reading area. Consdiering the number of times she had unceremoniously joined him at his own table, he figured it only fair to slide down into a chair himself. Unbuttoning the suit coat as he did, his right leg came up and rest his ankle over his left knee with the muted thunk. Elbows on the arms of the chair allowed his fingers to steeple as he looked over them at her like some sort of film noir villain, raising a brow. "You're looking worn, Reader."
Obvious Illusion: "Thank you." She took that as a compliment. Her dark eyes lifted, the sclera slightly yellowed. Of course, it only added to her wicked witch appearance. She took a deep breath in and shook her head. She would push her fingers a little through the fly aways of her curls. Some fine, baby hairs fanned down over her forehead and she seemed a little confused. Of course, it could be perplexed. She had some designs in front of her, sketches really that she had attempted to be working on. A charcoal pencil was within her fingertips, turned up and hugging the web of flesh between her first and second digit next to her thumb. "How are you?" She asked politely, quietly... Her eyes barely grazed the man's face and his venue of attire for the evening. And suddenly, suddenly... She couldn't sit still, shifting again until the tip of the lead was touching a fresh section of paper and she began to sketch angular lines of the person in front of her. She had a fear, once upon a time. A fear of feeding. A fear of taking from others. She had a fear of taking too much. See... Her feeding was mostly violent. Mostly ... dangerous. She needed violence in that moment. Screams that turned into gurgles that leeched into silence. Her fingers aided the movement of that pencil, grinding it along the white paper.
Xavier Darnai: A brief review of her state left him rather curious about it, but for the moment he'd watch on, figuring that would be the easiest way to learn. A few things came to mind off the bat, but in the grand scheme of things he was still 'young', as it were. "Aggitated. Business lately has had me a bit all over the place, and I've taken a few latch-ons over it." There was a slight tilt and twist of his hea, both eyebrows bouncing up once. "I was visited by some bint out've Reno who decided to take a few too many liberties." There was a twitch in his eye as he said it. Temperance had been a difficult thing to handle over the whole detail, and it had taken everything he had not to shoot the woman right in the face. Fingers pressed together firmly as he furrowed his brow a bit, noting the sudden shifting in her posture. Leaning back a bit more in the seat, his hands dropped into his lap, folding there. Maybe you don't need to keep guessing as much as you wish you had to, boy. A slow press of his breath through his nose was made. There wasn't much for it now, he wasn't about to throw himself into the fire over it, he could only hope that perhaps her willpower was strong enough to prevent this from being a dance that neither of them would be happy about.
Obvious Illusion: "Latch-ons?" She questioned him. It seemed Reader always had a question for him. Whether it was about his work, his person, his hobbies, or his clothes... She always seemed to come up with something that brought her lips open and her interest peaked about the man opposite of her? She kept her head down, her jaw was tight. Her mouth was clenched and she rolled her lower lip over her teeth - allowing in that moment for the pearly whites of her upper line to bite down into the morsel. She wore not jewelry, she wore no make-up. Surpisingly enough, even her Glamour abilities wasn't enough to cover the illness of her skin. No doubt it was just a ... mishap with an infected human. She sucked in a breath, stealing glances from the man in front of her as she outlined the tilt of his head, the angle of his jaw, and the stubbornness upon his face with the tip of her charcoal. He seemed stressed. Tension radiated from his person as her shoulders dropped and she got her face a little closer to the task at hand.
Xavier Darnai: "Occasionally keeping out of the public eye requires using some locations that I wouldn't normally bother with." Bandaged fingers tapped against the back of his right hand, thinking about just how much of a disaster the three day trip to Nevada had been. "Every now and then I run into someone who doesn't have a bloody clue about what a personal boundary is and they decide that we're fast friends." The annoyance in his voice was evident. "One've'em went as far as tracking me across the country over it." His eye twitched again, teeth clicking together as he set his jaw. "I'd rather not have to point out to people what bloody idiots they can be, but if it comes right to it I will."
Obvious Illusion: "Yes well, perhaps they take liberties because of how absolutely handsome you are. Or the way you wear that suit. Or how utterly fuckable you seem." Reader raised a brow at that man. It was true. He was handsome. He was well clothed. He was quite... mysterious. "It's that whole bad boy theme you've got going on. The Double Agent... You know, the '007 complex.'" That's what Reader liked to call it, at least. She went for bad boys. Far too many of them, and it got her strung along. Hell, she had literally her heart ripped out by one. She smirked. No, she didn't want to change them. Hadn't even -thought- about changing them. But she thought that maybe she could get them to care a bit. To fuck. To put up. To engage with her. It was all a futile attempt. She needed attention. She needed ... more. That's why she left... Every time. "Some women will stop at nothing." She offered Xavier. It was obvious he was disgruntled. She let out a breath. Gathered another one. She continued running down the tip of the grey lead against the paper, occassionally looking up at him and those red eyes.
Xavier Darnai: "Double oh seven." It didn't seem to click with the Brit at first, prompting a brief raise of his eyebrow. A split second later the proper thought process clicked into place. "Ah, right, Flemming's work. Never read them myself, though I've heard the films seem to have a pretty strong following." Shrugging his shoulders lightly, he gave a half of a smirk. "Something about the idea've wanting what you can't have, having what you can't keep? Mm. Suppose it's as strong a theory as any. Still." Leaning forward out of the seat, he dropped his right foot to the floor and planted his elbows on his knees. Resting his chin in his basketed hands. "Still, something's eating at you, neh? Or is it simply that something's not eating at all, and that's what's the matter." Rust red eyes stayed levelled on Reader as he sat there, rather engaged. Unsure of what the proper word for their particular dance, it wasn't the sort of worry that one friend had for another that had him asking, but perhaps curiosity. Reader intrigued him, which was more than most managed.
Obvious Illusion: The charcoal was tossed down. It bounced, the pencil seemed to become fearful of its owner as it rolled towards Xavier in a hurried manner. She seemed to contemplate her mood. It was a harsh one. She twisted her fingers upwards. Of course, that was with her fingers that had just moments ago held the charcoal pencil within her grip. The sketch of the man had been abandoned. She put her thumb of her free hand across the man's jaw. No - not Xavier's in particular- it was across the sketch itself. She smeared it, giving the two dimensional form a five o'clock shadow. Her chest flattened in exhale. "They're alright. Dangerous. Devilish. Demanding. Do you know about that? Demanding? Your workmust be." She was in a snit. The tinge to her skin should have been warning enough. The ill creature before him twisted. She shifted again. "Like you would know how to eat someone like me. Too demanding. Too tempting. Too sickening for your black and white tastes. You are engaged, anyways. Work. Time. Effort." She picked up the sketch. Then she dropped it. No, instead, she thrust it away from her. Leaning back as he leaned forward, she felt his stare. She narrowed her darkened eyes at him. "I ate. God damn it. I ate. I fed!" She hissed at him. So much so that those fangs were displayed along with her irritation.
Dancing ln Ashes: Another night, another little black dress. Again, clothed in the indifference to her surroundings, the woman entered. Billowy sleeves, slit from cuff to just shy of the shoulder, caught the air as the door opened and the pressure changed, and along with the fluttered of that inky mane, made her movements slightly less feline and more dynamic for a moment. Then she settled into her standard prowl, hips and heels adopting an idle rhythm of clackclicks that carried her towards the shelves and fingers toward the exposed spines of the nearest books.
Xavier Darnai: It was not the first time in his life that Xavier had stared down the barrel of a loaded gun while someone's finger was on the trigger and the safety had been switched off. He had seen the black more than once, dragged to the depths of hell and thrown onto the rocks and left for dead. It is said that which does not kill you stronger, but sometimes it leaves you broken. The impending threat sent something through him that he had not experienced in quite some time; the sensation of a true threat. His lip curled into a short and defiant grin as his eyes opened a bit more. He didn't doubt she could hear the double-speed beating in his chest in her state, or the quiet and seemingly labored albeit even breathing. "You'd be surprised what I've been able to take on in the past, Reader, there's a reason I'm always working. Stagnation'll be the death've me." That grin widened, a bit like a shark as he noted the showing of her fangs. Anecdotal evidence was never quite as thrilling as having the true and unequivocal confirmation. The sound of the door behind him caught his attention, but he knew better than to look away from a predator.
Obvious Illusion: "Stagnation is nothing more than a phase before rebirth. It is a bit where one can gather themselves and become something else. Or invoke another identity. A truth. A passion. A pleasure. A bit of something they wanted to be and had only the decency in the past of being held back." She tipped her chin. It was obvious she was certainly going through the emotions of a desire unprotected. Her fingertips sunk back into the thickness of her bound up hair, curls pushed up into that messy bun and her neck was certainly exposed. Her other hand lifted now, laying her left cheek upon her palm. Perspiration gathered across her forehead, dripping down her right temple now. The tips of those fangs were still poking out from her lips, deadly sharp and just pushing against her lower lip in enough of a threat to break through her own skin. The hint of Dove, pomegranate, and her own very personable smell seemed to rise among the dust and hints of stale coffee and blueberry scones from the little eatery and coffee nook. She narrowed her eyes at the man before her - irritated now her fingers had nothing to do as her weight moved again. In that half booth, she lounged. Her elbow hit the table and she let her lower lip escape into a pout. The points of her fangs dug deeper. "Nothing. There is no point. It's mute." Reader said, as if the man could follow her train of thought. She'd have to start over again. It was a sickening expectation. She pulled her gaze away from her prey that was no longer her prey. The chime of the door sounded, and she closed her eyes as if to center herself as her body digested the toxins, the process halted by the infected blood.
Dancing ln Ashes: Rich and sultry like over-aged wine, her voice whispered through the stacks, humming softly something that, if one listened and had lived long enough for culture to find them--willingly or otherwise--would be recognized as the ending notes of The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy. Manicured digits, dipped in rosewood, drummed soundlessly over titles until they paused upon Wind, Sand, and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The song changed then, the death throes of the Sugarplum Fairy stilling, only to rise again as the Moonlight Sonata. Hooking a nail at the top of the spine, the tilted the book back, allowing it to fall free of the shelf and into her grasp. Passing a hand over the cover, curiosity canted her head and focused her eyes, though lips still loosed the beginning of one of Beethoven's finest.
Xavier Darnai: It was possible that Reader had some idea about just how close she might have been with her statement of invocation, but he had been exceptionally careful about it. Xavier was shrouded in mystery to most, and even the few who knew more than was safe were protected for other reasons. As she took to her own hair and sat back a bit with relaxed posture, he sat up as well, looking back now to investigate the source of the sound that had caught his attention during their Mexican Standoff. With a raised brow, he tilted enough to catch a proper glimpse through the various obstructions, allowing very keen eyes to piece together the few glimpses of the image he could see. Clenching his jaw once, he sat back in the chair an turned his attention to Reader again. "I've seen my share've peddled lies, love, and you're among the better. But this's not your best work." He wasn't deterred by her statement. It could have been whatever she was suffering through that had her so distracted, but either way Xavier did not seem to be afraid of poking the bear.
Obvious Illusion: "Fuck you." That was her first thought. That was her very first dirty deed. She hissed at him, no scrounging for something to say in their perculiar battle. She wanted to reach across, sink her fingers into his neck and let the blood run down her tongue. Of course, in the heat of the moment, the distraction was keen to the new player that joined their evening. While the sclera of her eyes darkened even further, the abrupt change in her body would have the whites now upon the edges of neon yellow. Blood was being ruined within her veins and she struggled to remain upon task. The dance, the tango, the verbal jousting was becoming a little more on target. "As if your work is any better in the heat of the moment. Always on target? Bullets never stray, no?" She licked her lower lip now, craining her neck. She would let her chin fall forward, her body tightening and coiling as if an animal was ready to scavange for their dinner. Her tongue lashing to Xavier was certainly one of interest - she hadn't said something so very ... unexpected, no? The next scent was familiar. The breeze teased it to her nostrils among the honey of golden aged books and hymms. Reader enjoyed the classics, but lately she was all about the top 40's of their newer culture and the beat of the bass.
Dancing ln Ashes: The back of the book had been devoured and the first few pages followed with the linear flash of a golden gaze, descending line by line before climbing again. That song continued as a soft accompaniment to the act, affording it an air of leisure rather than one of studious investment. As for what drifted along with the notes, her scent remained much the same: rosewood and foreign spice; subtlety, softness, and heat. If she heeded the others, there was no outward sign of it.
Xavier Darnai: "Been on the mind more'n once, from the sound've it..." It was a quiet retort, smirking a bit as he took hold of the arms of the chair, watching her rather deliberately. Every move, twist, and change of her posture, preparing for the worst. "I do my best to prevent missed shots as best I can, but targets can be unpredictable, can't they." The change in her eyes was disconcerting, and his own glance shifted to the side as he looked to the woman he'd run across the evening prior. There was a powder keg to be had here. Too many secrets in play that he wasn't prepared for certain people to have. Grapevines in his line of work were deadly. "So tell me, Reader. Ravenous as you are, what makes you think I wouldn't take a shot, even if it might miss." He was trying to keep her attention hooked, focused on something, fairly sure the less she was trying to focus on, the more focus she'd be able to give it.
Obvious Illusion: There wsa a breath gathered. No doubt, it was the tip of her tongue that held the silver edge and she'd slash it across him without so much as a second thought. He would drag her attention back. The shape that meandered had Reader's vision pulled as the one of the two employees walked past with a stack of books to reshelve and a disgruntled look upon her face. The Toreador seemed to squirm within her seat. Not quite having the decorum of past visits. No, there was a painful realization that she felt very much so plastered underneath a microscope - the light burning her skin. Even the clothing felt rough upon her flesh while senses were heightened and a shoulder rolled in a substitute shrug gathered. "You would. That is the killer in you. Never forgiving. Always protecting. I like stagnation. I like not to constantly have someone expect something of me. That's what ruins the allure. That's what makes people so bored. I don't expect anything of anyone anymore. Not demanding enough. Not tempting enough. You can go about your merry way and I'll be here when you're done. That's not enough for some people. It was too much for others to fathom, see. That's where the loss happened. Boredom." Her movements now were almost painful. Muscles under skin seemed to contract of their own accord and her jaw worked as if she were trying not to find the scents around her alluring. Masochistic tendencies swarmed within her brain. Visions. Temptation. The beating of his heart. The double time. The snap of books closing. The hiss of the new pot of brewed coffee. She twisted her fingers down from her hair to latch her other hand over her ear. She rocked herself for that moment, as if a child would when they were being scolded.
Dancing ln Ashes: Abandoning the nonfiction novel to its proper place, the woman wound her way through the shelves, seeking the classic literature and at last slipping into view of those in back. Before the man's eyes had even fully found her, golden irises were leveled to meet him, heavily lashed lids curving with the caress of the smile below. Whenever you're ready...The words slid seamlessly into the song on the back of a near-whisper too clear, too audible and too contradictorily soft, given the distance between them. The sonata recovered a beat later as though no interruption had occurred. Attention returned to her apparent search with the muted interest of a just-fed cat roving through canary cages.
Xavier Darnai: "That's the best've it, isn't it, knowing that there's no anchor attached. No dependency, just reliability." She practically looked to be crawling in her skin as she twisted, holding herself that way. So far from the typically refined Reader he had become familiar with. Whatever she'd had, it was playing against her with a level of cruelty he hadn't seen since his own brutal detox. But that was a lifetime ago. The double-beat kept itself steady, even if it was twice as fast as a healthy heart, and despite the rush he looked calm as still water with no sign of wind. As Nick's 'mother' approached, Xavier's eyes turned to her again, once more pouring over her with the same sort of investigative gaze as he'd given her before. She liked her out of place details to be lined up; a game for manipulators and deceptionists. Moments ago he had been one of the players in the tennis match, and now he found himself the net. It was a position he did not envy.
Obvious Illusion: "No. They didn't like reliability. It wasn't much of a game. They didn't care for the court. They always wanted a changing turf. I couldn't give them that." Her own nails seemed to bite into her palms. She twisted her ears, the wayward locks were free - some falling out of the haphazard bun. Her flesh was still tinged green. The bilirubin of broken down blood swimming in her eyes now. It began to turn her skin a decent shade of sickening green-gold. She gathered another breath and shifted. The sound. That voice. It was ever familiar. But Reader had a hard time placing it. The connotation's blue. Yes... She remembered her. The woman of poise, prestige, and a tight leash. The muscles were clenching over bone. Her stomach twisted. The perspiration of dead flesh dampened her back against the fake leather of the booth around her. "You are being beckoned." She said to Xavier. It was obvious how the man was needed. The game was enacted. It had begun. Her skin crawled and her body began to ache. Her head was pounding and her eyes briefly narrowed - leaving his face to gaze openly at the one upon the brink of the hardwood flooring and Nick's very family.
Dancing ln Ashes: His gaze revealed the same thing as the previous day. Long hair, longer legs. Inhuman eyes, a privately amused smile. Elegant clothing: half club, half modern aristocrat. Steep stilettos, and an utter inability to reconcile her existence with her surroundings. If his nose was as keen as his eyes, he, and Reader in her nervous sensitivity, would likely catch a strange scent beneath her perfume, drifting from her lips. It seemed thick and dizzying, like a poison it pained you not to take, a blood beyond blood; it smelled of craving and Id incarnate. It was not there the night before. Gaze caught by a gaudy cover, she lingered nearby in the Romance section, staring a book titled His Sword, Her Virtue. She already had a guess what she would find inside.
Xavier Darnai: "Needing someone else to challenge you simply means not knowing who you are yourself. It's no way to live." Pressing his hands down to the cushioning, he forced himself up and out of the seat. Reader was correct, he was being requested of a fashion. "Believe it or not, this's another latch on've sorts. At least this one doesn't reek've body glitter'n cheap oils." The last portion had been spoken quietly under his breath as he slid the bandaged hand into the pocket of his slacks, His right arm remained free, hand loose at his side. Once more he gave Reader a very keen look. Xavier's senses were... disciplined. He knew better than to take them for granted, and whats more he rarely left himself open to the advantage of others. He didn't need to use them all, and some he'd learned long ago he couldn't rely on at all at times. The woman's scent went unnoticed for the moment, despite his false warnings of offense. "Two seconds, love." Turning away from Reader he moved through the Book Nook, approaching Isis at a steady gait. "Reaction's got nothing to do with preparedness, but something tells me that's rather immaterial here."
Obvious Illusion: Her fingers dug into her temples. She would stroke both of those veins underneath as if they still beat her blood away from her brain. Those dark eyes of hers narrowed to closing. A challenge? She needed a challenge. She needed someone who wouldn't be bored to tears with a woman who wasn't demanding. Or, was Xavier right? Perhaps she needed to change tactics. Perhaps she needed to hit replay. As her eyes drew together, the darkened sclera of that now golden color certainly seemed to burn. "They never challenged me. It was the other way around. Not enough excitement, I think." She thought. They were interested, but then the match ended. There was no further need to chase. She struggled to take a breath as the burning started like a small fire inside of her. The double-treads of a heart beating was the cause for her chaos, was it not? She pulled out that smart phone. She shook her head, as if trying to clear the confusion. The fly aways from that pulled up hair caressed the yellowed flesh of her face, tickling across her cheek bones as clenched thumbs would stroke across the keyboard. "Go. Don't keep a lady waiting." Of course, the navy blue and emerald green of her dual colored eyes were almost black by now. Rods and cones adjusting to let more light inside the darkened corner of the Nook. The nickname... It confused her. It was nothing more than a term of endearment. As the battle within her body brewed, she dug her fingertips down into the phone. The tap and hum, the chimes went off. She dropped the iPhone onto the tiny table and curled her fingers back of her left hand once again over her ear. When Xavier was out of sight, she dropped in agony further down - bent in half upon that booth as her clothes clung to her damp skin.
Dancing ln Ashes: The woman ran a finger over the raised cover, tracing the silhouette of a muscle-bound Scotsman, bemused placidity dressing preternaturally symmetrical features. "Hanger on? Hardly. We shared a bar once and too few words. She remained focused on the book until he was beside her, at which point eyes snapped towards him and a languid smirk settled into place. "Shall we dally on the weather and proper introductions, or dispense with the pleasantries of social foreplay entirely? I have time for either." There always seemed to be a devious delight lurking behind the cultured propriety of her voice, an audible smile echoing in the depths of fixated eyes.
