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| A Little Magic; for YinYin <3 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 15 2010, 08:35 PM (169 Views) | |
| Gray | Jun 15 2010, 08:35 PM Post #1 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Midnight was the witching hour, and he fully believed that it was the time for magic, mystery, and often, mayhem. But until that moment when the clock struck 12, everything was as he'd grown accustomed to it. The fire crackled and blazed in the hearth, but he could not feel it's heat; the chair beneath him was cozy and well broken in, but he could not feel it's comfort. He had not eaten in 100 years, and yet his stomach felt no hunger. He hadn't had anything to drink in that same century, neither water nor wine, and yet his throat was not parched. He knew of the vibrancy of colors in the hand made throw rug on the floor, but he could see only in shades of gray. For these last handful of minutes before midnight, he remained trapped in his half-world of non-existance. With nothing else to do but watch the minute hands on the clock move slowly into position, he allowed himself to be lulled into a doze before the fire; and in dozing, he dreamed. He dreamed of a man with a thick, dark hair who was strong enough to hold him and brave enough to face the Keepers with him. He dreamed of this man with lips of fire and eyes of ice, whose touch could both inflame and soothe; and in dreaming, he yearned. He reached out for this man, begging to be held, to be touched even once to break the long monotony of his imprisonment, but the more he reached, the further away the man seemed to be. Finally, with a cry born of desperation, he called out the man's name, longing and love coating the name in a sweet layer and jolting him out of his sleep. Liam glanced at the clock on the wall of his home as he pushed out of the chair, then cursed the slow moving hands and his own faulty memory. Still another five minutes until midnight, and the name of the man who so haunted his dreams was gone, the certainty of him as insubstantial as the smoke that rose from the fire. He'd been dreaming of the same man for 100 years now; knew every dip and curve of skin that was like velvet; could feel the soft thickness of hair beneath his fingers; had felt the tender loving that had threatened to steal his sanity with it's sweetness. All of this he could remember upon waking, but never the name of the man who touched him with such aching kindness. A glass of wine stood on the mantle of the fireplace, perfectly chilled and inviting, but he made no move to touch it yet. A succulent dinner of roast pork, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob stood steaming on the sideboard in the dining room, waiting for him to pick up a plate and help himself. But still he stood, one hand braced on the stone mantel, hips canted back, and eyes locked on the clock, counting down the minutes until the clock struck midnight. At last it was down to the last minute. The final sixty seconds. Then fifty; fourty; thirty; twenty; ten. And now he counted down the ticks of the second hand in his head, willing them to hurry along their way. Nine. Eight. Seven, and could they take any longer? Six. Five. Four, then freedom. Three. Two. Hurry up, dammit! One. Thanks the Gods, finally! As midnight struck and the clock began to chime, light and color burst in on him so fiercely that he wanted to close his eyes against the unfamiliar sensation; but he did not. He would not cheat himself of even a moment of living during his single month to exist out of the next century. The heat from the fire burned his skin, but he did not move away. He reached out to pick up the chilled glass of wine and felt the dampness of it on his fingertips. He raised the glass to his lips and drank slowly, feeling the flavor of it - sweet, light, heady - race across a tongue that had been a century without taste. He took a deep breath, and savored the scents of his dinner waiting for him, combined with the woodsmoke from his fire and the wine in his glass. Setting the glass down carefully lest his trembling fingers drop and break it, Liam threw his arms out wide, tossed his head back, and cried out defiantly, "I am!" His defiance was for his captors, and he heard the thunder rumble discontentedly outside his window at his declaration, but he paid it no mind. They would not infringe upon his time of existing; he would no allow it. Fully prepared to immerse himself in touching, tasting, feeling, seeing, hearing, and smelling everything that he possibly could, Liam headed into the dining room. He passed by an ornate full length mirror hung on the wall, and he gave his appearance a cursory glance as he went by. The image had remained the same for 500 years; he hardly needed a mirror to tell him what he looked like. Thick black hair waving away from a high, broad forehead, snapping green eyes that could be both warm and icy cold depending upon his mood. He possessed a long, aquiline nose that he knew he had inherited from his father's family. His mouth was wide and expressive, the top lip a thin line that had the faintest of scars along the edge on the right side, and the lower lip a full and sensual pout that had won him a fair share of kisses from men and women alike when he'd still lived in the town where he'd grown up. Ignoring his reflection in favor of the food that weighed down the sideboard, LIam crossed the width of the dining room and, thinking that it was a bit too dark, moved his right hand in a sharp gesture and had the candles along the wall spurting to life, their tiny flames dancing merrily on the wall and sending long shadows to flicker over the table. Pleased with the effect, the 527 year old magician began to pile food on his plate, already anticipating his first full stomach in 100 years. |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Yin Yin | Jun 17 2010, 12:54 PM Post #2 |
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Collin was quite certain that by the time this business excursion was done and over with his teeth would be no more than stubs from all the frustrated grinding they had suffered through so far. Things had been progressing achingly slow with the opening of Ireland’s branch of Data Dyne, a quickly growing technologies company and his eventual inheritance (assuming his Father had the decency to DIE); If it wasn’t a miscommunication than it was a failed inspection or a lack of funds or a delay in certain licenses. The brunette feared he’d soon be too paranoid to look at his reflection for fear of finding his hair liberally streaked with white at the ripe old age of 32. Long fingers ran themselves apprehensively through wavy locks at the thought. For his own sanity, Collin had opted to take a few days for himself, to relax, recuperate, and take in the lovely, Irish scenery. At least it would be lovely if he could fucking SEE it. What had started as a cloudless, sunny, and generally magnificent day, had turned to hell the second he was halfway between the bed and breakfast he’d booked himself and the middle of nowhere; Fate obviously wanted to sit back and laugh her uncharitable ass off at him. As of now, the sky was black as sin and it was raining so hard it was minor miracle he hadn’t driven off the road and killed himself. So, with squinted eyes and curses pouring from his lips as freely as the rain, he drove on. After all, the establishment couldn’t be THAT far away now and he wasn’t being a complete ninny by driving on instead of pulling over, right? And then irony of ironies. Collin had been quite positive he was on the road, at least until a tree decided to prove him wretchedly wrong. He was just damn fine one moment and then the next his car gave a sickening lurch downward, taking him so terribly by surprise he didn’t hit the brake in time and gave the forest a smashing hello. Despite the blessed restraint of his seatbelt, he’d given his head a resounding whack against the steering wheel and if the sudden, slick warmth snaking down his forehead were any indication, he was bleeding. Fucking brilliant. He fumbled with his seatbelt, stumbled out of the car and nearly fell face first in the mucky foliage. Things were just getting better and better, weren’t they? He had enough wits about him to pull out his cellphone. Unfortunately it took all his restraint not to throw the damn thing half way to China afterwards. No signal. Mother fucking figured. Now, which way had been the road? As he stood there contemplating, acutely pissed off that the agonizing throb of his head made this especially difficult, a most eerie thing happened. He heard his name being called out. Who the devil out here would know his name or have reason to call it in THAT way, in a way that made affectionate heat burst from his chest, made him ache and long to hold and touch and claim the owner of that voice. A shiver coursed through him. But it was only because he was soaked to the bone and wounded, wasn’t it? Not because a mysterious voice full of love and need had reached out to him. What bullshit. Even so, he found himself heading toward that call, feeling dizzier and more lightheaded with each step. With a growl he pressed on, following a thin trail that seemed to lead towards his goal. He’d be damned if he let himself succumb to his body’s wishes and black out. His perseverance was rewarded and, through the gloom of the canopy and heavy droplets of rain that managed to penetrate it, he saw the lights of what appeared to be a bloody castle. Relief flooded him with its sweetness. A burst of energy carried him to the front door, a lovely thing of carved, dark wood, something he might have admired another time if his head weren’t cut open. With a fisted hand, he pounded on the door, rather annoyed that black spots were starting to blot out pieces of his vision. And when the door opened, had he not been a shameless heathen, he’d have thanked God for the blessing. For some reason, he’d been expecting a crotchety old man to answer the door but was rather stunned by who did instead. Dear Lord, the man was BEAUTIFUL. And… oddly familiar. Where the hell had he seen him before? Then it hit him. He’d seen the man before him in a dream (more like several, really). The ludicrous nature of this thought made him immediately shun it. It was impossible, improbable, and the fact that the dark-haired man’s presence proved it wrong only irked him. With a frown, Collin said, “You can’t be real.” And promptly fainted. |
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| Gray | Jun 17 2010, 02:11 PM Post #3 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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He was in the middle of enjoying his dinner, his first delicious bites of perfectly cooked roast pork, determined to take his time and enjoy his meal despite the insistent hunger that now gnawed at his insides. In his very first month of freedom after the first century-long wait, he had bolted his food like a starving rabbit and had made himself sick for two precious days out of that single month. He'd learned his lesson since then, and had learned to take his time with his food; to enjoy it and linger over it to better remember the scents and tastes of it all during his long hundred year imprisonment that would follow. So when the knock sounded at his front door and reverberated through the lavishly decorated walls of his home, Liam, thinking it to be a trick of his Keepers, felt rage bubbling inside him and sweeping his hunger away. "Tá mé! Ní bheidh tú seo a ghlacadh as dom," he hissed angrily, his native Gaelic falling easily from his tongue as he strode out of the dining room and down the hallway. Fury whipped high color into his cheekbones and lit his green eyes brightly. Temper had him snapping his hands out, and all the lights in the castle blazed to glorious light, throwing shadows on the magician and cloaking him in soft darkness that only accentuated the sharpness of his cheekbones and the fierce cut of his jaw. Anger had him throwing the front door open wide, prepared to unleash the fury of his magic on whoever stood there to taunt him, But when the light from inside fell on the face of the person who had knocked, the anger drained out of Liam, leaving him weak kneed as unsteady as he stared at the man from his dreams. Hardly daring to believe it, he reached out to touch, prepared to launch himself into this man's arms and bury himself close, aching for the touch and the comfort that he knew he would find there. But before his trembling hand could make contact, the man spoke. "You can't be real." Then promptly fainted at Liam's feet. Startled, the magician could only stare at the man who lay on his doorstep, indignation curling through his chest at the man's words. Still, despite it, he couldn't very well leave the man of his dreams - ha, ha fate, very funny - crumpled in a heap in the pouring rain. So, hooking his arms beneath the man's armpits, Liam hauled his heavy body inside and slammed the door shut with a mere thought to keep the darkness and cold outside where they belonged. Rightly guessing that he wouldn't be able to lift his mystery guest and carry him up the stairs and into a bedroom, he opted instead of using magic and simply whisked them both away to one of the many bedrooms that had never had an inhabitant. Staring down at the man in his bed for a long moment, Liam gently reached out to brush away the hair that clung in wet strands to the man's forehead, his eyebrows puckered in a frown as he murmured, "Mo ghrá. Cad a bheith déanta agat féin?" Then, unable to help himself, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the unconscious man's mouth, biting off a sigh as he raised back up and fought the desire to take it deeper. He healed the shallow cut on the man's forehead, then turned and left him to sleep. He needed to think; needed to work out what should be done. And he needed to decide if he would claim this man, as was his right, and keep him here to relieve the monotony of his imprisonment. Liam entered the dining room, but was no longer hungry, so he waved a hand and had all the food disappearing. Alone in the now empty room, he sat down at one end of the long table and buried his face in his hands; wondering what he should say to the only man he'd ever loved, but whose name he had yet to know. "I am! You will not take this from me." "My love. What have you done to yourself?" |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Yin Yin | Jun 17 2010, 02:48 PM Post #4 |
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When Collin finally came about, it was to the pleasant sensation of warmth and the comfort of a sinfully soft bed. A decidedly better situation than the prior where he’d found himself soaked to the bone and half-dead. Thick brows furrowed; not that he wasn’t grateful for the fact, but where the hell had his pain gone? His arm felt like a lead weight as he went to probe where the gash had been. Paused. Probed again, felt around rather desperately for the cut that should have been there. He hadn’t gone mad had he? He rather distinctly remembered the sharp CRACK his head had made when it made contact with his steering wheel. Shouldn’t it at least be tender? Lashes flickered as the stubborn man opened his eyes, letting green-grey orbs glance around his surroundings. He had to admit it didn’t disappoint. It was exactly what one would expect to find in a castle; lavish and tasteful despite the varying styles of decor. There was, however, no hint of whomever his savior might be and Collin recoiled from the idea of simply sitting in bed and waiting. So without preamble, he propped himself up, slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He steeled himself for a moment of vertigo but nothing happened. Jesus, hadn’t he been shambling and fainting not a little while ago? And while was he on a roll noticing things that were amiss, hadn’t his clothes been sopping wet? It didn’t seem as though he’d been undressed and the bedding wasn’t the slightest bit damp. It was rather unnerving and Collin didn’t much care for things that couldn’t be explained away. For the moment, though, he decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth (at least not TOO much). With resolute steps, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The place was quite big but he was sure to bump into someone at some point; it seemed ridiculous to think that only one person would live here. Yet as he explored, he had yet to come across anyone. Could that young man really be the only one here? How lonely. His meandering eventually brought him to the dining room and there he was, that hauntingly familiar form, the one who had managed (and Collin couldn’t really fathom HOW as the other seemed decidedly delicate) to carry him in and put him to rest. Unconsciously, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to put order in naturally messy locks. Collin waited to see if the other would notice him before clearing his throat and tentatively stepping into the room. “I hope I’m not intruding, I merely wanted to thank you for your help. I’m sure it’s not often you have complete strangers fainting at your doorstep.” He murmured, his baritone smooth and rich, lips quirked in a sheepish smile. “My name is Collin Dyne, by the way.” All the while, his eyes searched the handsome man’s face, looking for flaws, for differences that would prove this couldn’t possibly be the same man. His efforts were failing miserably, unfortunately. Everything was the same; from the sweet curve of his lips, to the sharp, penetrating green of his eyes. |
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| Gray | Jun 17 2010, 04:29 PM Post #5 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Liam sat stock still in the same chair he'd first dropped into, staring into space and completely wasting the time he had to be absorbing the touch, smell, and taste of things. He kept asking himself why he was sitting down here, alone, when he should be up in the bedroom, undressing his guest and re-acquainting his fingers with all that glorious skin. He could just imagine running his fingers over the smooth, warm skin of the man's chest; bending low to taste his nipples; carding his fingers through all that thick, dark hair; then claiming the lips that so drove him crazy. And beneath the wild desperation that he could feel building within himself even now, he knew that their lovemaking would be tender, and sweet, and achingly fierce; meeting each other as equals, demanding even as they took. So lost in his own fantasy, when the very man he'd been daydreaming about stepped around the corner and spoke, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to stand and flow into the man's arms, resting his head against a broad shoulder and bringing his hands up to run slowly down the length of his back. Fortunately, he caught himself before he'd taken more than a few steps forward, and he braced one hand on the table to keep from reaching out. Clearing his throat, he spoke, his voice a clear tenor with a hint of husk to it that suited the mysterious cloud he seemed wrapped in, and colored by the obvious accent that was prevalent in the area. "Mo chroí, é an chaoi do cheann?" Then, realizing that he'd spoken in the Gaelic and righting assuming that this man wouldn't be able to interpret, he corrected, "Ah, forgive me. I asked how yer head is." Then, almost as an afterthought, he grinned; a blindingly bright expression that spoke of mischief and fun, his eyes dancing in the candle light. "Ye should learn the Gaelic. I c'n teach ye." Even as he strove for some sort of normalcy, Liam's heart and mind were repeating the man's name over and over again in his head so that he was fairly certain he'd never be able to forget it again. "Ah, Collin," his heart cried silently, "have ye been dreamin' of me all the long while I've been waitin' fer you?" |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Yin Yin | Jun 18 2010, 10:58 AM Post #6 |
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For some reason, Collin had the distinct impression his savior was showing a good deal of restraint as he rose to greet him (though he couldn’t possibly imagine WHY), the intensity in Liam’s eyes causing the brunette to take an inadvertent step backward, a move which he immediately chided himself over. He owed this man his life for fuck’s sake. But when Gaelic, a language he sure as hell didn’t understand, began to spout from the dark-haired beauty’s mouth, Collin had to admit he suffered a moment of worry. He’d be rather shit out of luck if the other didn’t understand a lick of English, now wouldn’t he? The second Liam beamed his translation, those feline eyes gleaming, lips curved in such a way they fairly BEGGED to be kissed, the boxer felt greatly tempted to beat his head against the wall; what European didn’t know more than one language? Obviously his mind was still addled and he desperately needed to get back on track; something that was blessedly handed to him on a silver platter when the subject of his head was broached. Long, artistic fingers returned to the wound’s former abode, still unbelieving it was gone. “I feel surprisingly better, to tell the truth.” He answered with a rueful shake of his head. “I could have sworn I’d given myself I good enough smack to bleed…” This was murmured more to himself than the yet unidentified male. “As for teaching me Gaelic, I’m afraid I’d be a terrible student. I have no gift whatsoever for languages. It all goes in one ear and out the other,” A flick of his wrist further illustrated this, “I gave up French and Spanish long ago. All my tutors would agree I was dismally hopeless and,” Collin shut his jaw with an almost audible snap. Dear LORD he was rambling like no tomorrow yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. There was just something about the slender male before him that made him feel like a green youth all over again. He needed to turn the conversation away from himself FAST. No need to make himself look more a fool. “Where are we anyway? I’ve never heard a mention of this place before and all I recall of my way here is the tree I greeted rather forcefully.” Hazy green orbs glanced over the other. “I didn’t catch your name either.” Hopefully the other’s response would give him time to gather his wits and comport himself like the confident, experienced MAN he was. |
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| Gray | Jun 18 2010, 12:52 PM Post #7 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Liam watched Collin with hungry eyes, feeling himself drawn toward the man he'd dreamed about and unable to prevent himself from drifting forward slightly; the movement so slow and graceful that it would hardly be noticeable until he stood only a hairsbreadth from the other man. "Tis glad I am tae ken ye're feelin' better. Ye did hae a nasty gash on yer forehead, but I took care o' tha', righ' enough." His voice was soft; his eyes luminous as he reached up to brush careful fingertips over the place where Collin had smacked his head. "Ye should be more careful, a ghrá." Turning away slightly, he turned both hands at the wrists and had a pair of goblets materializing with sweet red wine in them both. Sipping from one and offering the other out, he asked, "Thirsty?" Knowing that what he'd just done would come as a shock - after all, how many people could just make goblets of wine materialize out of thin air? - Liam strode slowly out of the dining room and into what he supposed would be the living room by modern standards. Going to the fireplace, he leaned against the stone mantel and turned to face Collin with a serious expression. "Nay, ye wouldna heard o' this place, seein' as it's not on aneh map, an' it's onleh here one month out o' ev'ry century." Gesturing to the castle around them, he said quietly, "Tis me home, an' me prison." Standing fully upright, Liam sketched a full bow, a sardonic grin tugging up the corners of his lips as he straightened up and pinned Collin with a piercing look. "Me name is Liam MacTiernan." Coming forward, his gaze holding Collin in place, the magician raised both hands and brought them to his visitor's face, slender palms cupping slightly cool cheeks. "Do ye believe in magic, leannán?" Then, unable to resist, he lifted himself onto his toes and pressed his mouth gently to the brunette's. After 500 years, no contact, and no affection, even that slight press of lips was enough to have a sigh of pure pleasure ghosting from Liam's mouth to Collin's. Though he wanted to take the kiss deeper, wanted to push forward and bury himself against the American's strength, the magician pulled away after only a moment and smiled dazedly up at the other man. Sliding one hand down Collin's arm until he could grasp that warm, firm hand in his own, the magician tugged until he'd brought his companion over to the fire and gently pushed him down into one of two comfortable arm chairs that faced each other. "Ye hae' questions, as ye should." Pausing to take a drink of his wine, Liam wet his suddenly parched lips and throat before asking slowly, "Shall I tell ye a story, then? It'll like as no' answer wha'e'er questions he hae wi'out havin' tae ask anehthin'." |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Yin Yin | Jun 20 2010, 02:43 PM Post #8 |
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Collin watched the other’s approach with a wary furrow of his brows; there was an energy, a chemistry, a… a SOMETHING between them that was rather unsettling and, quite frankly, put him on edge. The boxer wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting to happen (it wasn’t as though the waif of a man could physically overpower him) but decided he would keep his eyes open nonetheless. A plan which seemed doomed to failure from the start. While the brunette had been off woolgathering, Liam had all but pressed the length of his body flush against his own, most definitely bursting past his bubble of personal space. The younger male was about to speak, perhaps to tell the magician to back off a step or two, when the words died in his throat. Wait now, he’d HAD a gash? As in he had had one but now didn’t? Unless he’d been bedridden for several weeks, that couldn’t be true. Either he or the man before him was delusional and Collin was quickly suspecting it was his savior rather than him. Then again, it seemed he was hallucinating because he could have SWORN those goblets hadn’t been Liam’s hands but a second ago. The brunette accepted the crystal numbly, downing the contents in a single gulp while he tried desperately to rationalize what he’d just seen. After a moment’s hesitation, where he was quite tempted to go running out the door, he followed Liam into the living room; for all he knew, the dark-haired male would produce an axe from nowhere and run after him in a maniacal fit. This impression was further set in stone as the magician began to ramble on about a faerie tale castle, THIS castle apparently, that appeared and disappeared and was a prison. He glanced down at his wine glass, rather wishing he hadn’t chugged it all the moment before. “Do ye believe in magic, leannán?" ‘Hell, no’ was the immediate response but before he had a chance to voice his opinion on the matter, his lips were covered and his words completely stifled. Collin's frame stiffened with incredulity, How long had they know each other? A good few minutes and they were already kissing? Dear Lord. The boxer was too shell-shocked to do more than allow himself to be seated and vaguely wonder if maybe he'd fallen down a rabbit hole. "Knock yourself out." He answered hoarsely. |
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| Gray | Jun 20 2010, 04:56 PM Post #9 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Liam glanced down at his own clasped hands where they dangled between his knees and contemplated the wisdom of telling his story to Collin; this man who had stepped from his dreams and fallen, injured, on his doorstep. Finally, he decided that his companion had the right to know the truth of it all, so that he could better settle in for the rest of eternity. It never even occurred to Liam that Collin wouldn't want to stay; he simply would not allow the other man to leave. Before beginning his story, he glanced up and noticed that the brunette's wine glass was empty. Reaching over, he extended a single fingertip, and, pressing it to the side of the crystal goblet, had more of the sweet red wine swirling into the bowl of the stemware. Glancing up to gauge Collin's reaction, Liam noted the look of shock that glazed the American's eyes, and he thought perhaps he ought to help his guest along with a bit of magic. Remaining as he was, the magician reached out and gently ran the tip of one finger over the back of Collin's hand, murmuring, "Look at me, a ghrá." As soon as the brunette's eyes made contact with his own, Liam held the look and took it deeper, pushing his mind out toward Collin's and gently soothing the worry and fears that he found there. When he withdrew, both mind and hand, he left his companion in a sweet state of acceptance; where he would listen to the story, respond to it, ask questions, and form opinions, but he would be free of the shock and surprise that would inevitably coat all of his thoughts on the matter. Finally, Liam sat back and broke the eye contact, content for a moment to rest himself and sip from his goblet. Then, without warning, he began to speak. "I was born in a small village in Corke County in 1483. I was one of only two children who showed signs of having magic. We were sent, this other boy and I, to a special school for children such as we were, to learn about and better our skills. I was away from my family for five years, during which time I learned how to control what I had, and how to refine what was in me. When I returned, after seeing my parents, I went to see my best friend. He'd always been envious of my particular... talents, but he'd never been venomous or mean about it. So when I came home and found him living in a stable, hay stuck in his hair and himself smelling the wrong end of a horse, I was shocked. He told me that during my absence, some new villagers had come to live, and they'd been badmouthing magic and people who possessed it. My friend, Kendrick, his name was, he said he's defended me. Told the newcomer where he could go and what he could do with his opinions on magic folk. Said he ended up getting in trouble, and the village decided to side with the newcomer, and Kendrick had been thrown out of his home and left to fend for himself." Taking a deep breath, Liam continued on with his story. "I was furious; righteously angry on Kendrick's behalf. I used my magic against the newcomer, to take what he had and give my friend back his life and his home. The Keepers came; said I had abused what was in me and used my magic to hurt an innocent. Turns out that it had been Kendrick who'd been badmouthing me, and the newcomer had been the defender. His own daughter was of magic-blood and had gone to the same school I'd just left. Part of my punishment was to restore all that I'd taken, and I did that willingly enough, but then I had a choice to make. Lose my magic forever; live as a mortal for the rest of my life and die in disgrace, or keep my magic and be imprisoned forever, with only one month out of every century to truly exist." Standing now, pacing in his agitation, Liam's green eyes flashed and the fire in the hearth snapped higher with the sudden outburst of his anger. Fists clenched behind his back and eyes on the carpet, he paced in front of the fireplace as he finished the story. "I had my pride, and I would not give up on what I was. I chose imprisonment, and I was immediately whisked away from my family and everything I knew, and brought here, into this home, to live out my solitude for eternity. When the first century passed and I came into the first month of truly existing, I nearly went mad when I realized that everyone I loved or had cared for was long since dead. And the man who had condemned me to such a life through his own lies and betrayal was beyond my reach. I had no outlet for my anger; nothing upon which to vent my rage." Sitting down and breathing deeply, the magician settled himself and finished the story with, "And here I have been, locked in solitude and silence, for the past 500 years." Pale green eyes regarded Collin over the rim of his goblet as he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply, wondering what his companion had thought of the story. |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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