Post by Bella on Feb 19, 2006 14:33:31 GMT -5
ooc: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. .....Sorry. I am so sorry I could not post for so long. Track has been hell. But now I have returned with promises of a post at least every weekend! <3
bic: Hot winds were racing around Bella and Protégé, lifting whisps of their hair as forlorn playmates, before letting them fall back to the crowd. The boy still wasn't giving up. Bella had to give him that. Hell, it was so amazing, she couldn't help the soft, tantalizing chuckle that escaped her lips. "Your arms are around me," she said softly. "I never placed them there. And yet you are so sure, so very sure, that you do not wish to come back with me?" She slid away, and with her went the warmth, travelling around her like a small hurricane. One strand, however, stayed behind, swirling artfully, leading the way from Protégé to the lovely demoness, the lovely Fallen Angel, Isabella.
Bella sat on one of the graves, returning to the same position she had chosen after first seeing the boy. Her legs turned artfully, as if on display, her eyes the only thing directly facing Protégé like hot pink embers, smoldering only for him. She was too perfect, too amazing, yet if Protégé had the courage, he would come to her. For, with a game such as this, he may think that it is strength of will to keep away, but truly it is fear. If he was brave enough to come, certain enough of himself and his ability to escape, there would be no fear. The truth, indeed then had to be, that this boy feared the Nephilim, when what should have been the true reaction, would be to embrace them in their glory.
Of course, there was no certainty that once in a Nephilim's grasp, one would ever escape. In fact, it was fairly unheard of. But if he could live to tell the tale, it would be wondrous. Bella's lips twitched into an ironic smile. What a total human thought. Delicious. She was beginning to gain an even closer look into the minds of her toys. It could prove handy in convincing, at later dates. This one, however, would not take that, oh no. It was his desire that would have to bring him to her, or a good sleep spell.
"Protégé?" His name sounded crisp on her tongue, as if it had always belonged there. She added the smallest accent to his name, the smallest roll of French to it, and it sounded beautiful. "Protégé? Come to me?" She held out one long-fingered hand, and it stayed in the air as if it would never move, never so much as twitch until Protégé came to it. Her face turned to his, so that even her shoulders now faced him. "Will you not come to me, dear Protégé?"
bic: Hot winds were racing around Bella and Protégé, lifting whisps of their hair as forlorn playmates, before letting them fall back to the crowd. The boy still wasn't giving up. Bella had to give him that. Hell, it was so amazing, she couldn't help the soft, tantalizing chuckle that escaped her lips. "Your arms are around me," she said softly. "I never placed them there. And yet you are so sure, so very sure, that you do not wish to come back with me?" She slid away, and with her went the warmth, travelling around her like a small hurricane. One strand, however, stayed behind, swirling artfully, leading the way from Protégé to the lovely demoness, the lovely Fallen Angel, Isabella.
Bella sat on one of the graves, returning to the same position she had chosen after first seeing the boy. Her legs turned artfully, as if on display, her eyes the only thing directly facing Protégé like hot pink embers, smoldering only for him. She was too perfect, too amazing, yet if Protégé had the courage, he would come to her. For, with a game such as this, he may think that it is strength of will to keep away, but truly it is fear. If he was brave enough to come, certain enough of himself and his ability to escape, there would be no fear. The truth, indeed then had to be, that this boy feared the Nephilim, when what should have been the true reaction, would be to embrace them in their glory.
Of course, there was no certainty that once in a Nephilim's grasp, one would ever escape. In fact, it was fairly unheard of. But if he could live to tell the tale, it would be wondrous. Bella's lips twitched into an ironic smile. What a total human thought. Delicious. She was beginning to gain an even closer look into the minds of her toys. It could prove handy in convincing, at later dates. This one, however, would not take that, oh no. It was his desire that would have to bring him to her, or a good sleep spell.
"Protégé?" His name sounded crisp on her tongue, as if it had always belonged there. She added the smallest accent to his name, the smallest roll of French to it, and it sounded beautiful. "Protégé? Come to me?" She held out one long-fingered hand, and it stayed in the air as if it would never move, never so much as twitch until Protégé came to it. Her face turned to his, so that even her shoulders now faced him. "Will you not come to me, dear Protégé?"