Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

[Hard Nox 2]

GHOSTLY

Ciarán followed along like a dutiful puppy, bags in hand and close - but not too close. "I am so sorry for what happened to Fen Manor... I am relieved to hear you have found safe harbor here." He wondered what the survivors would think of him. He hadn't slain any of their fellows - but had trained and fought alongside those who did, even called some of them friends.

As she showcased the dress, his eyes lingered. It was a beautiful color for her, and being with her brought a feeling to his heart he hadn't felt for a long time. "You're beautiful," he said without thinking, then caught himself and blinked. "I-in that dress, I mean. Not that I don't think you wouldn't be beautiful out of it - oh god, I didn't mean it like that, I am sorry." If there had been a time Ciarán had been one for charms, it was not now.

"I meant to say, you look beautiful in that dress. It's very kind of her to lend it to you. Do you have other clothes? It would only feel right for me to buy you some after everything." Ciarán was falling over himself like a schoolboy. No doubt the bags held clothes for Beck, but the poor lovestruck fool couldn't help himself.

 

[Hard Nox 2]

HIGHVOLTAGE

He had half-expected her to simply brush off the question, perhaps an outburst at his audacity. Yet the answer came freely, and a slight furrow appeared in Lucien’s brow. He swept Nessa around, mulling over her response as one might a wine they were analyzing. Lesser vampires and their whims, disgraceful.

“We are different, Nessa.” Lucien paused as he spun her before continuing. “I wear this affliction with pride. After all, I sought it out.” He did not elaborate further as the music came to a close, the crowd beginning to thin as the night dragged on. Yet Lucien made no move to leave, simply standing there, frozen in that same spot with Nessa.

“You, on the other hand, treat it as something to be ashamed of, as if the world will cast its wrath upon you should you stand too tall.” He had always seen her in cloaks, layers, as if trying to block out the sun, the world, prying eyes. “Do not shrink from the sun because of your curse. Embrace it, embolden it, make it your own.”

He let go of the fledgeling, letting her hand slip from his as he took a slight step back, bowing to her with a flourish, a small smirk on his lips, a hint of fang shown. “Thank you for the dance, fledgeling. Despite a lack of formal training, you can move quite gracefully.” Lucien turned to leave, but paused, something lingering on the tip of his tongue.

“Nessa,” he began, “I am sorry you must bear this against your will.”

And Lucien Kilta left, before he could say anything else.