he's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone
630 Posts
Ooc — Phi
Master Guardian
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Offline
December 10, 2016, 12:45 PM
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The stranger's voice was soft and like honey as it spilled forth from her lips. Arturo's eyes narrowed for a second as her assessed her verbal greeting, as the sun continued it's descent into the horizon, spilling it's golden defiance over the earth, reflected upon the mirror-like waters of the river. His gaze, mirrors of the burning fire ball giving way to the velveteen darkness of night, did not flicker from her, instead studied her. She was not close to Teaghlaigh's borders and in truth he had no true purpose of calling out to her other than to alert her to his presence. He hadn't even really had a purpose when he'd stolen out of his borders to following the snaking river. Perhaps his desire was simple: he did not deign for his home to become his prison and so he broke free, stealing a few hours to himself. Even outside of The Family he bore the weight and title of Ceannasach proudly, accepting it's burden always with shoulders built to endure the weight of leadership. Still, a few stolen hours were nice. Sometimes, they were necessary.
The honeyed tone reminded him of one that Kitku had used upon him, and even in the presence of a lovely lady such as the agouti stranger (for Arturo wasn't blind) all he thought of was Lotte. There was none as lovely to him as his nightingale, for the pedestal he'd placed her upon exceeded the heavens itself. She was a queen among women and he desired to officiate what they were, to make her his and himself hers in all and every sense of the word. As to not come across as distracted Ceannasach tucked thoughts of his nightingale safely away. Weary and vague as he tended to be around strangers his guard remained up. “Evening,” The gangster responded, the smoky timbre of his deep, accented voice carrying so that she might hear his words as he spoke them. “The sunset is lovely, is it not?” He inquired. He hated small talk but his elusive demeanor left very little else for him use in an effort to engage in conversation.
[/td][/tr][/table]The honeyed tone reminded him of one that Kitku had used upon him, and even in the presence of a lovely lady such as the agouti stranger (for Arturo wasn't blind) all he thought of was Lotte. There was none as lovely to him as his nightingale, for the pedestal he'd placed her upon exceeded the heavens itself. She was a queen among women and he desired to officiate what they were, to make her his and himself hers in all and every sense of the word. As to not come across as distracted Ceannasach tucked thoughts of his nightingale safely away. Weary and vague as he tended to be around strangers his guard remained up. “Evening,” The gangster responded, the smoky timbre of his deep, accented voice carrying so that she might hear his words as he spoke them. “The sunset is lovely, is it not?” He inquired. He hated small talk but his elusive demeanor left very little else for him use in an effort to engage in conversation.
wreathed in iron and in fire
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
i bare my bloody teeth
and only pity makes my strike so clean
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Messages In This Thread
I hate the winter - by Emory - December 08, 2016, 08:26 PM
RE: I hate the winter - by Arturo - December 10, 2016, 05:46 AM
RE: I hate the winter - by Emory - December 10, 2016, 12:26 PM
RE: I hate the winter - by Arturo - December 10, 2016, 12:45 PM
RE: I hate the winter - by Emory - December 14, 2016, 09:57 PM
RE: I hate the winter - by Arturo - December 31, 2016, 04:53 AM