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Post by silverdust on Mar 16, 2006 16:26:22 GMT -7
It was a strange sight, the girl flickering in the moon and shadow, like mist given form. She was seemingly perched on a merry-go-round unicorn, but closer it was apparent that she only hovered lightly over it, her legs barely brushing the silver-white lacquer. Her hands were held out before her, their motion a wisping, smoke-like dance as a conductor with an unseen orchestra. Before the strange wraithling crouched another grotesque little companion. Whereas she was merely eerie, and perhaps had the potential of being lovely in her ethereal grace, this one was a macabre creation, an animated corpse with its jerking movements. Skin rent from bone and muscle, they glowed slick and red-white in the moon, the bones a bleached ivory. What remained of the fur may have been at one point fine, silken in texture, a pure smoke-spotted white, edged with blazing gold over the shoulder. Yet the color were matted with blood, old and new. The girl gave a light sigh, like a breath of wind in its softness. With the motion of her fingers the undead jerked along in some sort of broken dance. Her flourish was really just for show and her own amusement, the puppet string that held him needing only her mind's control. Still, it entertained her to pretend that the strings extended from her own hands. Dance, dance, dance for me... her mind echoed over and over, and the puppet followed, resisting but followed. It broke her heart. "Sethekaju," came her echo, from a ghosts's throat, faint, rippling. "How much longer Sethekaju? All night, and you still can't break my string. It is not possible, as much as I want it to work for you, you know it ain't." Her human facade brushed the mimic of mist-silver hair over her shoulder. The puppet, Sethekaju, looked at her, blood running into his eyes from the strain of trying to break her control. "You want me to dance smoothly and I move like a broken marionette. There is progress." She wanted to tell him that she was a child still, and even if she were a puppeteer, her power was nowhere near an adult's, much less a Puppet Master's. She wanted to tell him that he would always be controlled, it wouldn't matter how hard his will. But she couldn't, her voice faded into nothing. Instead she moved her fingers again in their pirouetting grace and once again moved to bend him to her will. What a strange, morbid child's play...
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Post by Vyn on Mar 16, 2006 17:07:53 GMT -7
From the shadows yet another child watched, a sad smile upon his features. The broken doll lurched beneath his conductor's lead and somber words slid through his head in a lilting poem. As ironic as it was for his theme, he was a beautiful singer and a divine dancer...if only his composing skills her better, he might've sung for them. As it was, he would not interrupt this game with his theatrics. Slowly the puppeteer moved forward, a raven from the shadows, here to watch this morbid game. His wings hung rigidly from his back, a small imitation of raven's wings. With one fluid movement he moved from his feline form to his anthro one. He settled into a swing, his mask still obscuring the features of his face as he leaned forward to watch more closely, a mournful smile upon his features. "May I ask, what you two are doing?" His head tilted lightly to the side, peering at them through the mask, curiousity hidden and yet still obvious. Jukaeva: 1 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Mar 16, 2006 18:42:19 GMT -7
The girl gave a sudden jerk of surprise, so absorbed was she in maintaining her soul string. Her pretty humanoid form flickered for an instant, the silhouette shadow of a miserably petite mustildae flashing briefly before the illusion reasserted itself. Temporarily released, the puppet staggered in his sudden freedom, hissing slightly as he fell onto the exposed muscles. The wraith slipped down from the unicorn and made as if to help him, but reined herself in. It wasn't that Sethekaju would reject her help, but she couldn't even if she tried. She couldn't touch him, as he existed in a different plane than her.
Instead she looked to the stranger, the illusion's smoky hair falling over one of her eyes as she glanced up shyly. She wasn't normally the one to be the speaker, but Sethekaju was in pain and probably shamed, she wouldn't give him the burden of voice.
"Oh, hi," came her voice, echoing faintly as if from another source. "We were playing, it was nothing. Me and him were just dancing."
Her words were of both eloquence and cockney, a strange mix and awkward were it not for the lilt of voice. She didn't say the truth of the dance. Sethekaju wouldn't forgive her, for his plans were meant to be a secret, his ambitions hidden. That way if he failed, it wouldn't hurt more than it had to, though she felt that it would destroy him anyways. He trusted her enough with that, and she couldn't violate it. Friendship was ever so precious to her.
"What're you doing out this eve...sir?" She added the last part unsuredly. His mask and wings reminded her of nobility, of the grace in a world where she didn't belong. He seemed so much more...real, exalted than she. Then again, she had never much sense of self-importance anyways.
She could feel Sethekaju regain himself behind her, but the grotesque puppet didn't say anything, seeming content with the words as she handled them. Though a puppet, he still had a vague sense of his father's arrogance and regality. He was much more suited for her rank than she, but he was stuck in his puppet's mauled form, and yet she still felt under his command more than half the time.
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Post by Vyn on Mar 27, 2006 3:12:33 GMT -7
Jukaeva's reaction to the broken Puppet's collapse was thankfully concealed by his dark mask, the faint flush to his cheeks going thankfully unnoticed. Jukaeva knew some who might've laughed, taken amusement from the folly of the fallen youth, but he was a more compassionate sort. In fact, were it not so obvious that this mutilated Puppet was still in full possession of his pride (no matter how tattered it might be), Jukaeva would've gone to him in assistance. Instead he forced his attention solely upon the illusionary child, giving the Puppet respect through ignorance. Jukaeva's eyes wandered her form, fascinated. At times he had wished for the versatility of a Marionette's form, able to preform for all watchers, but so long as his own form was not denied its grace, than he was quite content. "As I saw, and what a lovely conductor you are." The flirtatious child dipped his head, the kind words pouring thoughtlessly from his tongue. He never hesitated to seduce, even though that was not always his intent. "As for myself, I was simply admiring the moonlight until your dance caught my eye."Were he not forcing himself to remain seated upon the swing, he might've been dancing now. However, manners held him in place. It would not be right to dance when the Puppet had faltered. For even though he knew not the true meaning of their dance, he knew it would be rude to show off his skill at such a time. Without missing a beat, he followed smoothly from thoughts and back to words. "But, please, there's no need to call me Sir. I am Jukaeva, Puppeteer of a mixed type. Music and Masquerade are my callings." He smiled beautifully, the expression slightly hidden by the beak of his crow's mask, but full of haunting allure nonetheless. "May I ask the name of my twilight companions?"There was no denying that this boy was a poet. His love for words showing in every twist and embellishment of his speech. Yet, what else could be expected of a type such as his? Jukaeva: 2 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Mar 27, 2006 14:31:19 GMT -7
Twist and beauty of such words, the grace of a gentleman's allure, all were new things to her, things she was unfamiliar with. Xavidje and Sethekaju, the males that she was accustomed too, they were harsh. Xavidje couldn't hold with petty games, his words cut as blades pointed and sharp, meaning everything he said and making sure that one knew it. Sethekaju bare spoke at all, and when he did, he didn't waste breath. Though she supposed he might have that ability, considering from what far grace he had fallen from.
Still, the words were overwhelming, but pretty to listen too. The illusion's face blushed lightly at his suave, like a flicker of cloud over moonlight. Never before had she been complimented so highly, and by such a noble creature. The slender arms clasped gently behind her back in nervousness as she dipped a light curtsy, the long forgotten images of etiquette imposing themselves in light of the situation.
"Esper'kaebiä, mixed Puppeteer too. I am of Figment and...Infection type."
For some reason she found herself ashamed of her father's lineage, in light of this child of grace and aesthetics. Hand reached to hair, brushing it over one eye as she glanced back at her companion. He could make his own introduction, she would never feel right doing so. He acknowledged that, nodding toward the raven-masked.
"Sethekaju, Smog and Annihilation."
He left out his rank as a point of bitter pride. Surely the other would've guessed it by now, and he would not reinforce the image anymore than he had to. He shot a glance at Esper, her illusion drawing circles through the grass with a slender foot. It was true she was often quiet, but he had never seen her as humbled as she seemed now. Some sardonic part of his mind wondered whether Xavídje could care enough to be jealous, if he rode in any of their conciousnesses at the time.
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Post by Vyn on Apr 4, 2006 4:56:40 GMT -7
Jukaeva never seemed to be fully aware of the impact that his beautiful words left upon others. He loved the soft hint of blush rushing over her illusionary cheeks, the delicate expression of manners that she effected for him, and never once thought that his charming words were the cause of such reactions. With the grace of a dancer, the Puppeteer slid from where he sat upon his swing and bowed low for this ghostly lady. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Esper'kaebiä." He rolled the name off his tongue as if he were tasting a sweet wine. He liked the sound of it greatly, it suited her ghostly appeareance. "It is always so surprising to find such beauty to be fashioned of what could be abhorred." Jukaeva slipped closer in the graceful motions found from his mixed type. Had he known that she were truly a ghost, his fascination wouldn't doubled ten fold. A spectre, in his eyes, she was more alluring than some of the Marionettes he had encountered in his short time within this world. She might've been hideous in reality, but that did not matter to the Masquerade mix. He knew all about hiding truth from reality and loved Mystery beyond all else. Besides, what sort of horrible creature could craft such a sweet and bashfully beautiful form for themself? Masked gaze danced from the ghostly lady and settled onto Sethekaju's broken form. He showed such strange determination for one who had been killed, and so brutally to. Puppet or not, Seth still possessed enough pride to be honored. Once more his anthro form dipped into an expression of respectful greeting, straightening to flash his charmingly musing smile. "It is a delight to meet you as well, Sethekaju." Smog and Annihilation? Annihilation was a rare type and it was quite easy to figure out who had sired this misbegotten Puppet. So this was the broken son of Jiarokumo? He'd encountered one of Seth's morbid siblings on more than one occasion, had watched as the sadistic patchwork flaunted his brother's bones as egotisical decorations. Oddly enough, Jukaeva's respect held him back from his poetic words. He knew if he spoke those words would grind the truth of this puppet's form into his mind, and no creature deserved that. Regardless of rank. Jukaeva: 3 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Apr 4, 2006 7:18:48 GMT -7
If Sethekaju was in possession of any childish motions, he perhaps would've snickered at the effects of the Masquerade's words upon his female companion. He felt no need to protect her if she became so besotted anyhow, not so much that he never became that close with anyone, but for the fact that she wasn't technically there at all. The poor wraith didn't exist in this world. She would age but never die, and she would never be able to harm or for that matter, breed. That in itself protected her, and made her the most vulnerable of them all. But she would have a thousand lifetimes to forget. What he wouldn't give for that...
Blush darkened further at the Masquerade's closeness, and her appearance changed. A ribbon bound back the wild hair into a thick braid, dancing in and out of the wisping silver locks. Her shred of a dress transformed into something befitting that of a young lady, a simple gown with loose sleeves. She cleaned up for him, rather nicely Sethekaju had to admit. But none her true form.
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," she smiled, still shy and her eyes kept darting away. She was speaking more her mother's imitation, her cockney only slipping out in the contractions. "It's just a glamour though."
Her eyes followed Jukaeva to the torn puppet, and her heart beat a little faster in her chest. Sethekaju was strange in his reactions with others. She never knew how it would be. She hoped that he would not drive Jukaeva away, because she liked his attentions, his grace. It was something she rare afforded, something she needed that is seemed no one could give.
And he knew that. Though he could read that Masquerade was holding himself back, and it was not from complete condescension. He was very aware of how he looked, of the lengths his siblings had gone to ruin him. But it wasn't as if they had ruined him forever. Esper'kaebiä had an eye for beauty, finding it in everything but herself. All it had taken was Seibhizion's hands, her voice, and a few silk scarves from Schehera's collection, and he could've passed for Jiarokumo's son. But vanity wasn't something he indulged in, and he'd keep it to himself for now. He nodded, returning dry courtesy. He would let the Puppeteer indulge herself, she had served him well anyways, a firm companion.
"Are we keeping you from anything, Jukaeva?" came the girl's light whisper, sensing Sethe's vague approval. She thanked him, silently. He was not as heartless as he tried to appear.
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Post by Vyn on Apr 6, 2006 5:30:53 GMT -7
Ever unaware of the effects he had on others, of how he affected the poor wraithling's emotions, Jukaeva carried out his graceful steps until they rested him upon the lovely carousel. His lean form laid back against a colorful plastic mare, fascinated eyes obscured by raven's mask, black feathered wings spread above his shoulders like the visage of a dark angel. With besotted fascination Jukaeva watched her change. Watched her illusion alter itself to suite his presence; ribbons taming unruly misty locks, an elegant gown to replace what was once in tatters. O! and he had thought she was lovely before! Ghostly child, his new friend. Real or imagination, things were never what they truly seemed, so why not bask in what one saw? The mind projected outward, beautiful even when the form beneath was lost to reality. Jukaeva could appreciate her dissociation from life, for he stood on the inside looking out: watching death from a distance with a morbidly poetic eye. "Ah! But what a glamour it is, my lovely specter!"Jukaeva was a dancer, an entertainer...and sitting still for too long was something he did not do well with. Even now, after just having leaned against the carousel he wanted to move again. Instead he offered Sethe an elegant half bow for the silent acceptance he was given, a beautiful smile haunting his muzzle. Although he was of the living, there was nothing he admired more than death. Though he had a feeling it had a great deal to do with his theme, Jukaeva couldn't help but find something alluringly romantic in what so many called morbid and sickening. Even in his silence Seth was full of pride, even after being torn from life...he clung stubbornly to this reality. It was admirable, especially in a puppet. Esper's will-o'-the-wisp words pulled Jukaeva away from his resting place against the carousel, leading him back into her grace. Could she dance as well as she conducted? From what he'd overheard, she had been trying to lure the Puppet into a smooth dance. Could she act out what she taught? However, before stating his curiosities, he smiled at her with warm consideration. "Not at all my new friend." A soft breath of breeze fluttered over him, ruffling imitation raven's wings. "I was merely walking before I encountered thee." A short pause, his eyes filled with musing thought before he swiftly returned his attention upon her. "But my curiosity plagues me. Can the specter dance as well as she conducts?"Jukaeva held his hand out to her then, though he did not expect her to take it. She glimmered in a ghostly way, in a manner that was not of his world. He understood this easily, but they did not have to touch to dance together. And to think of what a sight they might be together! The wraith and the raven! Jukaeva: 4 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Apr 6, 2006 6:26:30 GMT -7
Esper had not the imagination to form a deeper blush, either that or she thought it might mar the glamour's face. Her eyes followed the raven's graceful movements, the haunting smiles, and she indulged herself a little. It was not at all an unpleasant break from the reality she would have to soon return to. She giggled a bit lightly as Jukava offered her his hand, but her eyes darted sideways, to Sethe. There was a plea in their, one not so simple. Sethe nodded. He wouldn't say anything, not of his own volition, but the third of their trinity had his ways, it wasn't likely this encounter would stay hidden. But the leak wouldn't come willingly, at least not from him. He owed her that much.
With the nod, and perhaps a touch of naivety, she took the Puppeteer's hand as best she could, not touching but resting it close enough that he might feel it, like a breath upon his palm. She smiled, not the light smiles of her companions but something true as best she could manage, without any hidden meanings or games.
"I can try," she laughed gently, and moved into step. Mother was a Marionette, and she had not come away without that grace and poise. she had just never had much use for it, until now.
Sethe watched them with a vague half-interest. The raven must have an eye for their morbid play, or else he, like all the others, would've turned away. Maybe in that respect, Esper had found a true companion. The wraith was morbid in her own respect, fascinated with death because it was something she couldn't understand. Able to find beauty in everything because such things were temporary, and in that precious to her. She was something all her own.
He slid into his human form, feeling somewhat inferior now that all around him were taller and that was something he couldn't take very well. Perching himself upon one of the carousel horses, he watched them still, not interfering because this was her game tonight. A passer by might take them as a trio of children's murdered spirits, him with his ripped form the other two with their strange dance, Esper's evanescence and Jukaeva's haunting mask. He smiled sardonically. Xavidje better learn to tango or he was going to lose his consort...
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Post by Vyn on Apr 8, 2006 17:50:56 GMT -7
Jukaeva smiled charmingly at his ghostly companion, allowing her and the Puppet to exchange their silent words without question. What was said between them could be left that way, Jukaeva was not one to pry. A chill danced up his spine at the sensation of her touch, nothing more than a whisper of air against his pale hands. She really was a wraith. Usually one would recoil at such a truth, to realize your dancing partner was one of the undead...or better yet, not really there at all. Yet, this only seemed to spur Jukaeva on. He had never danced with a Wraith before. "I'm sure you'll be splendid."As she moved into step, Jukaeva followed with the effortless grace gifted to any dancer. His every step was smooth and fluid and kept in time with her ghostly steps. How exactly one managed to dance with a partner they could not feel was a secret Jukaeva felt was best kept to himself. After all, no good entertainer gave away their secrets. Jukaeva twisted their dance slightly, momentarily bringing Sethe into view and then allowing himself to be absorbed in his steps once more. Sethe fascinated him almost as much as Esper did, though she appealed more to the 'beauty' he found in the morbid side of life. Sethe, on the other paw, was just morbid, as alluring as he was in his own way. In fact, Jukaeva would've asked him to dance were it not for the fact that Jukaeva greatly enjoyed the chance to dance before an audience. Jukaeva: 5 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Apr 9, 2006 8:05:38 GMT -7
To be touched as if she were real, it was more than she could've ever asked for. Though she wondered how, she didn't question the raven's ability to dance with her ephemeral mist of a body. She dared not even to speak or look away, might she break his concentration or effort, shatter the moment. She couldn't feel his touch, no, she could never, but he acted as if she could, and as if he could feel her other than cold breaths of air. This dance, she could believe she were real.
She gradually moved to follow his steps, as the female partner was apt to do. She had watched her mother many times over, a frequenter of the ballroom scene, taken with the lace and the jewels, the brightness and colors of the silks and baubles. Mother danced as a fairy might, as if she were light as air, reading the motions and following with all the grace expected of her. 'Esper child,' she laughed at her, cupping her hands around her face as if her cheeks were real. 'You will be a better dancer than I, for you have no laws that hold you down. You must find the right partner, that is all.'
The words echoed in her mind, but she buried them away and concentrated on the dance, trying to read as mother did the entertainer's lithe steps. She was far too young to grasp the depths of the Marionette's words, and she didn't wish to think of it even if she did. Sethe flashed once in her corner view, as the raven Puppeteer turned to face him for a brief moment. Sethe had switched to human form, watching them through the long bangs of his ivory spun hair. Of course, much better to dance in front of an audience.
Sethe wondered vaguely why the puppeteer had moved the dance to glance at him, unless he was the showman indeed. He smirked lightly in their direction, shifting a lock of white hair over his shoulder. He never cut his hair in human form, and it hung nearly to his waist in a smooth cascade, shimmer white in the moonlight. He always made sure that several strands fell over his face, at least enough to cover the torn remnants of his right eye and cheek. The rest of his wound were still bare. His human form was perhaps more terrible because it still had the remants of being something beautiful, if not marred so. He had inherited a great deal from his mother, the slenderness of form and face and that certain grace that bordered on effeminate, perhaps why he had been considered the weakest of his litter.
Funny, he had never seen Esper dance before. He knew that she knew how, what with the strings she controlled him with. Seibhizion hadn't known how to dance until she had shown her as well, the Marionette mostly concerned with perfecting her sword art and mind games, but Jadereith had insisted. Those two should've switched places, Esper far more suited to be a Marionette than the blind lapine. But one couldn't help how they were born, could they? He knew that all too well. His smile grew slight more bitter, but he merely continued to watch the spinning figures, as if they were clockwork dolls in a music box.
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Post by Vyn on Apr 18, 2006 2:09:52 GMT -7
Never before had Jukaeva encountered one who could more aptly read his steps than Esper, nor one who could flow with as much grace as he. She was a rarity and a treasure to one who's life was dancing, a diamond in this raven's eye. Esper could not feel him against her, nor could he feel more of her than the whisper of touch. That alone should've made their dance challenging, impossible to some. Yet, she flowed with him in a way no other could, and Jukaeva was absolutely smitten with her. They twisted and twirled, like ghosts on a ballroom floor. No others would share their spotlight, and only other ghosts would watch this silent waltz. For once he had forgotten his audience, forgotten the need to flash and shine before the eyes of others, and he was for once focused entirely upon his consort. He led her easy through each step and twirl, enraptured eyes following each ethereal movement. Were he more focused on Sethe's thoughts, or those an any onlooker for that matter, he would've taken pride in how stunning their dance was. "You have magnificent form, Esper." He commented as he spun her gracefully, like dancers in a formal ballroom. "Do you dance often?"His words were spoken easily, without flaw or falter in his talented steps. Jukaeva had danced for too long for conversation to offset his dancing. Jukaeva: 6 / 15 In the glimmer of the moonlight, it would not be long until Sethe realized he was not the only spectator in the audience tonight. From the brush of the Verboten Copse, a young child crept in unbroken silence, loathing what would happen if he were to disturb the graceful dance before him. A ghostly figment and a dancing crow, it was a rare sight that Rajinkae didn't wish to disturb. Hollow eyes had fluttered to the broken zombie perched upon the carousel horse, a sorrowful creature for he possessed remnants of beauty that even the young Figment/Masquerade mix could appreciate. Rajinkae was in his human form; a 10 year old boy with long blue locks disrupted only by one long strand of glistening silver which fell over his golden orbs. He was clad in black, in exception of the crimson cloak which fell in smooth cascades to his hips. As all Masquerade's did, Rajinkae sported an elegant ivory mask tinted in crimson, a perfect image for the theme he mimicked: vampirism. The child leaned slightly against Sethe's mount, his eyes glued to the dancing pair. They were not only stunning together, but entrancing, and Gilrajinkae could not remove his eyes from them. In fact, he was so wrapped up in their movements, it was hard to tell if he had even acknowledged the state of his current companion. Not many 10-year-olds took so easily to zombies, whether or not they be human or Euclide. Gilrajinkae: 1 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Apr 18, 2006 14:24:02 GMT -7
She could never grasp what a treasure she had become to the raven dancer, nor in truth the true skill and beauty of her steps. Too long had she lived in the shadow of being a wraith, a shade clinging to life with no meaning or purpose. Again his compliment colored her cheeks, but she didn't dare to delve in the feelings behind it. Her heart was already worn too thin to hope for anything to that extent, even as young as she were.
"My ma, she's a marionette, she taught me and..." Esper had danced enough that she could carry on conversation as well, but her self-confidence was barring her. "I teach others, sometimes."
She didn't dance as much as she wanted too. Seibhizion's lessons, Schehera's games, they allowed her too keep her skills. One of Ena's rituals, mixing alchemy and shamanism for a single trial; she and the blinded Marionette had danced a perfect synchrony as mirror images, one from the realm of life, the other death. There wasn't a time she had danced without feeling a twinge of pain, emptiness. For the one person she had longed to dance with...never. Xavídje watched her once, watched her as Jukaeva did, like she was the only star in the sky, like she were real. But he turned away and there was nothing more. He would not allow himself to believe in her.
But she wouldn't let that sadness taint this dance, not now. Jukaeva would be her only partner tonight, she needed it to be so. She smiled shyly still, daring a glance into his eyes. "I usually dance by myself, that is all."
Sethe noticed the other boy before he even began to creep to his side. His mutilation had allowed for him to develop a high sensitivity to those around him. Still he didn't move, sensing it not of his own blood, and enraptured in the dance. His eyes still traced the couple, taking in Esper's steps and those matched by the raven. For an instant he almost hoped Xavídje was watching. See how beautiful she is? See how graceful? How you’re going to lose her…It was more for his sadistic satisfaction than any concern.
His eyes did slip sideways as the young boy came to his side however. He had seen Esper dance before, and as beautiful as the motions were, they were not as entrancing to him. It was not that he didn’t understand the depth of the dance, he was just a little more jaded. A Masquerade mix, like the other, Figment too by his form. And an interesting theme. Vampires. That Chiroptae came to mind, the one that was currently staying with Schehera’s father; more a vampire than anything, all cool, quiet grace and elegance. He could see why it would be a desirable theme.
But still, as the young one was engrossed in the dance, he would hardly bother himself to interrupt him. After all, he didn’t try to draw attention to himself; there was nothing to be proud of. Maybe once, but his siblings had ruined that. So he looked toward the dancers, wondering if they would ever break their spell. He would not blame Esper for never wanting it to end.
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Post by Vyn on Apr 20, 2006 15:03:16 GMT -7
Jukaeva smiled as blush tinted her cheeks. His words seemed to affect her so easily, but Jukaeva supposed that was to be expected. The ability to touch the physical world was like the loss of one's senses. When one lost the sense of sight, they were compensated with heightened hearing, or a second sight of sorts...but when one was removed from the physical world, or never even got to taste it, they must compensate with other things. "My mother is a Marionette as well," He smiled softly, thinking of his mother for a moment before a handsome chuckle left him. "but it was not she who taught me to dance. She moves to a different sort of a rhythm."The art of his mother's world was seduction, but whether or not dancing was also a skill of hers was something Jukaeva simply did not know. His teacher had been another, a Marionette of the Rhapsody type who had delighted in his beauty as well as his Masquerade. Seibeisina introduced him to dancing, taught him the art of the graceful movements he executed now, and instructed him in the ways of an entertainer. However, that did not mean he had learned nothing of his mother's art. "You'd be the perfect teacher." A charming smile lit his features. "I've never encountered another with the grace and skill you've displayed to me. Not even my own mentor could compare."Jukaeva was not aware of it, but he had picked up many of his mother's skills and often used them without meaning to. He simply knew that he loved to be adored, to have all eyes fixed upon him. Speaking of eyes upon him. Once more Jukaeva brought them through a light twirl, one which revealed Sethe's solitary presence to him each time; ascertaining that the gaze of his audience was upon him. Only to realize that not only was it not, but Sethe was also no longer alone. "Rajin?" He murmured thoughtlessly, still executing his moves in perfect style despite the surprise appearance of another. Slowly his gaze returned to Esper and he offered up a sheepish smile. " I fear our dance may have to be cut short, m'dear Esper; it appears I have company."Jukaeva: 7 / 15
The strange child was aware of Sethe's eyes upon him now, but he did not respond to that awareness. Instead, he focused upon the dancers, watching and waiting for Jukaeva to twirl toward them once more. It would happen eventually, for Jukaeva liked to keep one eye on his audience as much as possible and when he did, he could get the crow-masked dancer's attention. When at last their eyes could meet, Rajinkae offered a sympathetic smile and nothing more than a curt nod. The message was terse, but Jukaeva would understand. Although Rajin would've preferred not to break their dance, he needed to speak with Jukaeva. Slowly, he tilted his gaze up to Sethe and smiled gently. "Hello, are you Jukaeva's friend? Do you know his partner?." The boy's voice was perfectly suited to him: elegant and graceful but singing of boyish energy. Gilrajinkae: 2 / 15
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Post by silverdust on Apr 20, 2006 18:34:56 GMT -7
The end. Of course she had been expecting it. At least one thing, the years had taught her not to disillusion herself. This perfectness could never last forever, shades such as her were not meant to be happy. Happiness were for those who could feel, those who could live. But he had given her this gift, and that was enough for now. She smiled gracefully, no evidence of any great pain in their passing moment, only a quiet, somewhat melancholy resignation. She was the one to break first actually, passing easily through his embrace, but still allowing herself to move along with him for one last act. Gracefully she bowed in a low arch and brushed her avatar's lips againt the back of his hand. It was a gentleman's gesture, surprising and unorthodox that a lady might use it, but her effavescent years had given her a disregard for rules; she only applied them as she felt it necessary, she could not be punished for it anyhow.
"Then I thank you for this dance, m'lord Jukaeva," she said, her voice a whisper still but her eyes tipped upward with a radiance in them like a subtle star. "I'm glad I could entertain your skills. The praise you've given me is a gift I will cherish."
She had noticed the Vampire masquerade; she had not been so blinded by the dance. So many whole and noble children about her, her and Sethe must be like stains upon their world. Of course, the Puppet would never allow himself to realize that, nor her for that matter. But too much damage had been wrought upon her, it was hard to salvage those remnants of beauty and pride she still posessed. She kept an eye on the exchange however, Sethe was...sporadic to say the least.
But the Puppet was in no mood to be arrogantly pissy tonight. Not unless one of his brethren made a sudden appearance anyhow. He was merely resigned to his mother's mind tonight: cool, distant, calculating, and a bit dry and sardonic but not cuttingly so. He shrugged and leaned back on his palms as the dance ended, giving the Masque youth a sideways glance through the veil of his hair.
"More his partner's friend, Jukaeva's acquaintance," he waved right arm, the one that had been spared the slaughter, at the pair. "Her name is Esper'kaebiä."
His voice held only the remnants of elegance, but to bitten by bitterness to be truly that of graceful. Cool, smooth, dry and pointed, his tone reflected that of one who did not waste his words lightly.
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