Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 8, 2007 20:13:30 GMT -7
Soft leaves rustled underfoot as she picked her way delicately through the underbrush. Colorful purple paws pushed aside the leaves of a rhododendron to reveal small vines tied to bits of yellowed bone protruding from the ground, one claw gently lifted a vine as the Euclides examined it. “Still soft on the bottom, maybe another week?” The Masquerade type muttered to the plant, stroking a leaf gently. Her eyes closed for a few moments and a soft smile turned up at the very corners of her beak as she thought of how her new room would look, bedecked with the vines of more grapes. She needed more; some of hers were starting to lose their vigor. She always needed more grapes. “Another week, then.” She whispered softly, before turning to walk away. “But just the one!” She threw over her shoulder with a soft laugh. “Then I’ll be back to bring you home!” She began to hum under her breath, a soft tune that sounded circular; repetitive. She hummed it again and again, her feet moving delicately in steps in time to the humming as she paraded in a semi-circle, seeming unable to truly leave the grape-vines. Her eyes didn’t appear to move behind her mask, her head turning as she moved to keep the vines in her line of sight.
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Post by Jenn on May 8, 2007 20:30:22 GMT -7
Another beaked head poked its way into the clearing through which the pretty patchwork circled, this one dark and draped with a thick layer dark mane-fur. Atreju's own patchwork-seeming appearance was self-imposed, his raven's mask the only avian part of him. The rest remained feline, plushly furred and elegantly long. He had finally grown into his paws after what seemed like forever, growing into as slim and graceful a young male as could be expected from his lineage. Gaudy golden bangles, gifted him by his sire, only enhanced the appearance. The affectation of a mask served to doubly deceive any potential watchers. Not only was he purely feline in heritage, but he was not, in fact, a Masquerade-type himself! A mix of three other types, he had managed to put one less savoury aspect of his personality behind him in favor of the others, Afterlife showing most strongly in his gleaming pale fur. He had kept his eye on this place for quite some time now, ever since he had stumbled upon it during one of his walks and smelled the unmistakable scent of another Euclides thick on the plants. For several weeks now he skulked about, trying and failing to catch a glimpse of their illusive gardener. He simply couldn't abide mysteries without at least a token effort to learn their secrets. Now, after many fruitless searches, his luck led him here just before the purple, green, and white Masquerade could depart. He was left with the dilemma of what to do next. Should he reveal himself or simply remain where he was and watch? "Gardener, decorator, or simply an eccentric? Which could you be, la dame des raisins?" His voice was soft, teasing, but sounded louder than he'd intended in the general quiet of the area.
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 9, 2007 18:14:51 GMT -7
The Masquerade's slow pacing dance did not cease, nor did her eyes move from the plants; her voice however, was carried to him in a half-whisper.
"Which would you prefer, oh watcher in the bulrush?" She murmured with a breathy, tinkling laugh. "Surely, you must have a preference to one of the three?"
Her steps became more languid as she finally tuned to face him, her silver decorations with their small jeweled grapes hanging from various points on her body. She turned slowly and neatly, placing herself gently, though not necessarily delicately, before him.
Dayobi looked this other Euclides over. What a handsome specimen... Such a delightful ebb and flow of figure, what lovely decorations, what a lovely mask... Could he be another Masquerade? She tilted her head in silence, looking him over. No, no he couldn't be, he had no theme...no flow of character carried throughout his appearance. At least, not completely.
Dayobi gazed admiringly at his attempts; surely his attempts could fool any who were not actually a Masquerade themselves? What with the dark, Avian mask and the continuation of feathers...if one did not know how to look for a creature's theme they would certainly believe this was it. How extraordinary!
"From whence do you come, lovely stranger?" She offers a purple scaled paw. "Do you come to seek Dayobi's court?"
Her small, lynx-like tail twitches slightly in anticipation, the grapes making small clinking noises as they connected with one another. A light, beautiful smile graced Dayobi's beak's edges, while the ghost of a smile hovered around her eyes.
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Post by Jenn on May 9, 2007 19:15:28 GMT -7
Atreju followed her movement with his eyes, her pacing at last slowing and then coming to a stop as she properly acknowledged his presence. Seeing her, he could now understand the unusual garden a bit more. Both of his Masquerade half-siblings had themes of their own, based off of birds. If hers were grapes, she would doubtless want to surround herself with them. He'd noticed several of the vines being depleted over the weeks. Perhaps she took them elsewhere?
His tail twitched, black feathers rustling, as he contemplated a response. Her name had already been granted him, an exotic-sounding thing. The least he could do was offer his own in return. His language, always unnecessarily flowery due to his passion for dramatic screenplays, matched hers well. "This lonely raven takes life as he comes, milady, and it came in the form of you this night. I have often dreamed about such beauty as yours, and now come face to face - or perhaps mask to mask - with your presence. My name is Atreju, son of Xerxes, and it is the greatest of pleasures to make your acquaintance."
His tail's flickering movement became more pronounced as he made up his mind to step forward, stopping maybe five feet from the beaked patchwork and looking at her intently through the sequined holes of his raven's mask. "Your words intrigue me, milady. Your court? Are you also a princess, or perhaps a queen? I've met so many over the years, it seems, and it would not be so unusual if another were to have crossed my path."
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 10, 2007 19:37:41 GMT -7
"Xerxes..." The Masquerade murmured appreciatively. "Now, he is one I have heard of. Quite frequently, in fact."
She moves forward another two feet, quickly closing the gap between them; as she pushes her paw forward delicately forward to tap a claw upon the mask's beak.
"Atreju, son of Xerxes, no queen am I..." She moves her paw coyly to the side of her own face, arching her neck. "Merely, a hopeful leader searching for more of what life has to offer."
She stands and begins to move off down the path, twisting in and out of the trees. She throws a look over her shoulder, it is more serious, and the smile has left her eyes.
"You may follow if you will, raven of the even'tide, but if you do not wish to accompany...I beg you not to follow."
Her tone is still friendly, and to the less aware observer would seem almost childishly trusting. Others though, found themselves able to detect the fine layer of ice, coating her words with caution. With that she turns and continues off down the path.
She walks slowly and deliberately, putting on a bit of a show.
"Perhaps he will follow?" She wonders to herself, "Mystery is an intrigue not even I can usually pass up...perhaps we shall continue on with a son of Xerxes tonight..."
Her small tail swings lightly, the grapes making tiny tinkling sounds as her hips sway, the last of the disappearing sunlight, dappling her fur with leaf shadows and red hue. Smirking, she waits.
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Post by Jenn on May 13, 2007 9:48:20 GMT -7
The dark raven's beak made a 'tick' noise as Dayobi's claw tapped against it and Atreju listened closely to her words, more than intrigued by the mystery she deliberately wove around herself. He shivered a bit at the light frost to her tone as she gave him what he decided was a friendly warning as to the limits of her patience. He was the stalker here, after all, made curious by her garden.
He took a step forward without even thinking about it, then paused and reflected. She spoke like a female with at least some measure of power. What would he be getting himself into by following her? Whatever it was...it would probably be something worth writing about.
Her show did not go unnoticed. The feline watched her walk for a moment, appreciating the saunter in her step. Such an interesting mixture of breeds. He could only mimic the avian in his mask and feathers, but this femme was the first true patchwork of feline and avian that he'd ever encountered. Mind made up, he smiled self-deprecatingly under his mask and walked after her, bangles jingling quietly. "I follow your lead, milady," he called after her.
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 13, 2007 13:50:02 GMT -7
Dayobi listened to Atreju's response and smiled. She slowed slightly, allowing him to catch her up and led on.
A twenty minute walk followed, to the edges of the park. Dayobi continuously twisted in and out of spaces, in a way that seemed unnecessary until one looked at the way that her path took her. She moved only over stone and through water, trusting the dry night air to dry any damp prints, and the wind to catch and trail their scent over the entire park. It would be hopeless to attempt to cover their scent entirely, so spreading it around was the next best technique.
Dayobi's pale fur shone dimly in the semi-dark as she paused before a solid rock face, covered in ivy. She pushed a paw forward, stepped sideways, and appeared to vanish, stepping partially through, and partially around the hanging plants, to reach the passage way concealed beneath.
Once inside it was easy to see that there had once been a structure built behind the stone wall, perhaps a hideaway the humans had once used. The room inside was immense, considering what it had looked like from the outside. The ceiling was at least ten feet high and there were a few tables and chairs, covered in moldering velvet, placed decoratively around the room. There was a smattering of pale pillars around the room, and a door leading off in the back lit by a small lantern, placed in the doorway. There was a small stage, apparently under construction, standing in the far left corner of the room, the chairs and tables turned to face it.
Then there were the grapes.
Vines wrapped around every pillar, climbing up toward the ceiling, their overpowering sweet odor almost completely blocked the underlying stench of death. The vines crept along the bottom of the stage, wound around table legs and some had even begun to climb the walls. The bases of the pillars and stage had a strange mixture of dirt and foul smelling mulch neatly piled over the roots, growing into the hard-packed dirt floor.
"Atreju?" She murmured playfully, finally turning to ace him and gesturing delightedly with her left fore-paw. "Welcome to my court."
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Post by Jenn on May 17, 2007 8:04:45 GMT -7
The route the two masked Euclide followed confused Atreju. It made him wonder what kind of enemies this female must have, to require such a degree of stealth and confusion in her path. Another Euclides? Or perhaps Amuni had burned her once before with their overzealous and incomprehensible crusade. Either way, he followed as she instructed and took care to leave no tracks.
At last they reached their destination and his soulless eyes widened as the ivy was drawn to the side. Aged stone, a private stage, creeping plants...it made his own attic hide-away seem like a poor man’s hovel in comparison. To what heights of the imagination could one be drawn when in surroundings such as these? His inner artist screamed at him to find out. He conveniently ignored the odor of the mulch, more than willing to ‘sacrifice’ a bit of ambiance in exchange for the beauty of the plants. He often worked in far less inspiring conditions, after all.
”Marvelous,” he murmured, taking a few steps in and craning his head to see as much of it as he could. ”You chose your palace well, milady. Not the glittering splendor of one such as Xerxes, but a more subtle and elegant stronghold. The beauty of nature is so often ignored in modern fashions.” He laughed quietly, stepping up to the stage and peering around it curiously. ”Such an appropriate throne…”
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 17, 2007 19:30:00 GMT -7
Dayobi raised a paw to the side of her beak and fanned herself lightly with it in a pantomime blush.
"You flatter me so, dear Atreju!" She laughed, moving over to the stage area with him. "Many are unable to appreciate some of the simpler things in life; nature has always been a...fascination of mine."
The masquerade moves lightly over to a tall cabinet full of bottles sealed with wax. It is dusty and old; it’s dark, dimly shining wood giving it an oddly spooky appearance.
"Can I offer you a drink?" She asks, pulling a bottle from the shelf, and gently rolling it toward him. "Most of its contents are grown here, some is borrowed, and some is...donated...by the local humans."
Dayobi pulls another bottle out for herself and unearths two silvery bowls from underneath the cabinet. She picks the wax away with her claws and upends the bottle into the bowl. She pauses over it, inhaling the scent of fermenting grapes, alcohol, and blood.
"I'll just let it breathe for a few moments..." She murmurs, stepping back toward the stage, she considers it for a moment, then grins.
She jumps lightly onto the stage, draping herself off the side and stretching a paw out to Atreju, lightly brushing the underside of his chin. Her voice takes on a deeper, more melodious tone as she stares into his eyes.
"I am in need of a scribe, Atreju." She rolls back upright, giving him her full attention. "I need someone capable of composing the tales our cast shall write together. I need someone to assist me in filling ledgers with the escapades we shall accomplish..."
Her eyes lock with his, the blank, pale orbs manage to convey her sincerity.
"Please, Atreju. I need the talents of a Scriptwriter, one who I know is worth his while...your speech alone tells me volumes about your abilities, I know you would be all that one could ever desire in a playwright." She presses her beak to the beak of his mask. "Atreju, be it proper or not...I beg of you to join my cast."
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Post by Jenn on May 18, 2007 6:05:15 GMT -7
Atreju accepted his own bottle with a faintly bemused smile. It wasn’t often that he partook of wine, much less in the company of another. Usually he would steal a bottle from humans and hide away in his attic den, drinking in high spirits where no one could see him be silly. A few sips drunk in a social setting would embarrass him, however.
He picked at the wax and poured the rich red liquid into the proffered bowl, taking a moment to appreciate the aroma of the vintage before setting it to the side as his hostess had. It was always best to follow the habits of one’s host when in a strange setting.
Watching her ascend the stage, placing her neatly above him and in the limelight, he felt a moment’s admiration. Here was the kind of performer he sought to portray in some of his dramas, with the inherent charisma and authority to capture interest without even seeming to try. He gave her his full attention, accepting the light touch to his chin, and listened to her request. It spoke so perfectly to his pursuits that he would almost say she had been studying him...except that he had never seen her before, and would likely have felt someone following him that closely.
“Tailored as your request is to my particular talents, milady, one would almost think we had met previously.” His laugh was soft, possibly due to her proximity and the impossible allure of her eyes so close to his own. “I have been invited into several Casts, even my illustrious father’s, but have been forced to decline them all because I knew that they did not truly desire what I had to offer. Saying that, I would be honored to join any Cast you make yourself a part of.”
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 18, 2007 18:30:29 GMT -7
A thrill of delight ran down the Masquerade's spine.
At last! Things were finally beginning to come together, how could they deny her the rank of Puppet master when she had her own stage and cast? All she really needed now were a few more followers...and perhaps a top hat...
This Atreju though...he really is quite delightful, such sincerity, such passion...she had loved the way his eyes lit up when she mentioned the position he was to be offered. She had expected to be politely refused, perhaps even scoffed at. The fact that he would follow her, and furthermore happily! This was better than Dayobi could have imagined herself.
The smile reached her eyes. She purred lightly in delight and proffered a paw to the masked feline across from her.
"Thank you, Atreju. I cannot even begin to tell you how much your answer delights me. Please, come join me for a drink, the wine should be ready now."
She steps carefully off the stage, moving back over to the bowls set out on the floor, the fragrance of the wine and blood having distilled slightly, making the drink less powerful, less likely to sting the nose.
She dipped her head and began to delicately lap at the crimson liquid.
Glancing up at him, she grins.
"So, Atreju." She whispers, eyes glinting. "How do you feel about finding others?"
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Post by Jenn on May 22, 2007 5:45:59 GMT -7
Atreju touched the proffered paw with the pad of his nose before the Masquerade walked back across her stage to reexamine the wine. He followed obediently, running the thought through his mind that this alluring female would soon be his Puppet Master. He thought it would take much longer for someone to finally recognize his talents and offer him a position that he could accept happily. The fact that it happened relatively soon after he matured in the eyes of his people was cause for celebration and he gladly lapped up a bit of the wine-and-blood mixture that had been poured earlier. Delicious and heady.
He looked up at her question, white eyes examining her face through the holes of his dark mask. "This raven has had little trouble attracting others in the past, milady. A flutter of wings, a call difficult to ignore, and a pretty display can call up quite a bit of attention. I've been...experimenting with it recently. Found myself quite a few pretty baubles in the meantime." He laughed and lowered his head again to drink a bit more. If he was going to live here with her, now, he would need to collect his things from their attic hideaway. It wouldn't take too long, but it would be a significant moment for him. He hadn't shared living space with anyone since leaving his mother's care.
"How many followers are you after, then?" he asked her curiously. "I know that it's generally frowned upon for a Cast to attract beyond a certain amount of followers. And what should I seek as qualifying traits? Beauty? Intelligence? Strength? What are you after in followers, and who, besides me, has already been brought into your fold?"
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 22, 2007 16:37:44 GMT -7
Dayobi slitted her eyes, like a cat in repose as she considered her companion's questions. Her tail stub twitched lightly, causing the small metal grapes to ring softly in the stillness.
"There is a difference, dear Atreju, between a Cast and a Court." She smiled; you are one I would desire in my cast, one who is willful, intelligent, spirited...and cultured."
But no too willful...her mind whispered, she gazed at Atreju's face, hidden mostly by the mask...such an attractive male...
"A Cast consists of those who you would consider...gifted? If that is the term I am searching for, especially so. A Court consists of loyal followers such as would a Cast, but the members of the cast stand out in a crowd, beautiful and sensible. While members of the Court may not be the pick of the litter, they are most assuredly there to assist, for better or for worst.
She lapped up a bit more wine, delighting in the taste. She stretched her back legs out and settled into a curled position on a rather fancy, if somewhat decayed, plush rug. Reaching above her head, she plucked a cluster of grapes from a column. Her eyes sparkling in the lamplight, she offered them to Atreju.
"Do I have your loyalty, then? Do I, more importantly, have your assistance, dear Atreju?"
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Post by Jenn on May 23, 2007 7:28:58 GMT -7
Listening to Dayobi's explanation of the difference between her Cast and her Court, Atreju found himself giving less than his full attention to the words, too distracted by the elegant curl of her body and the heat of her gaze. He was one to be caught up in the moment, bits of his Emotion heritage making it quite easy for him to give in to desire. Behind it all was a natural lust, the female quite beautiful and now above him, in a position of dominance over certain aspects of his life. The thought excited him somewhat. The suggestion behind her words was too strong to ignore.
His tail curled restlessly as he listened, the feathers attached to the band brushing against the backs of his thighs before moving on. He thanked his mother constantly for her touches of color on his pale form. Without them, he would surely seem a ghost, the black of his raven's mask washing him out.
At her question, he smiled beneath his mask, the expression only just visible. "I will assist you in whatever you...desire, milady. Your every whim shall be my greatest pleasure." He accepted the grapes and plucked one from the stem, dunking it in the delicious concoction of wine and blood. First popping one in his mouth to test the flavor, he then repeated the action and offered it to her.
((And thus does the era of Man-Whore Atreju the Sexy begin. XD))
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Nathalia
Marionette
The Phosprey Gryphon of doom
Posts: 385
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Post by Nathalia on May 23, 2007 19:16:41 GMT -7
Dayobi received the grape, her eyes sparkling; he was perfect for the job! Who could resist being recruited by that golden tongue? How utterly fantastic... She watched him shift, relaxing, he was quite attractive...hmmm she hadn't meant for that to occur...but if it did well, she didn't figure anyone could blame her... "I am delighted to hear this, dear Atreju..." She purred, sipping her wine. "I can't wait to see whom you will bring back to me...and we shall have to begin those chronicles soon." She watches his actions, loving the soft play of the light on the patterns in his fur, so many hidden colors, such lovely muscles... She pushes her wine to the side and leans in toward him, her beak touching the beak of his mask once again. "My every whim, dear Atreju?" She brings a paw up to his face, cupping it lightly. "Let's test that shall we?" Her blank eyes appear to sparkle in the flickering light. She brings her other paw up and pulls her body closer to his- Chunk! Scccrraaaaappe! Drraaaaaag! Chunk! Scccrraaaaappe! Drraaaaaag! "M'lady? What'ch all thish? I's jus' lookin' fer Furl an' fer the luv of all that's dark, 'e's gon off agin!" The horrible dragging noises continue as the awful, broken voice comes nearer. Dayobi jerks her head back in apparent surprise, looking quickly over her left shoulder toward the lamplit doorframe. A long, low shape drags itself noisily into view. Chunk! Scccrraaaaappe! Drraaaaaag! It pauses, fully revealed in the lamplight to be an aged Torn. Literally falling apart and looking slightly shocked to see Atreju. "EH? M'lady? What'sh this?" He gestures to Atreju. "I thought we was goin' out to fin' that weird spiky lad?...." His voice trails off gratingly as he stares at Dayobi's face. "Plans changed, Mulsej." She whispers, resuming her place, close to Atreju. "I found this lovely young delight in the park tonight...have you met him?"
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