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Post by · Rebel La'Beau. on Feb 17, 2009 16:41:45 GMT -5
Let's blow this popsicle stand.
The door was locked, with a chair jammed under the knob just for extra precaution, and just to make sure that everyone in the hall knew Rebel was entertaining today, Kill Hannah was blaring as high as her stereo would go to serve as a lyrical 'fuck off' to any potential visitors. After breakfast, which she had opted to wear sweatpants for, the girl had disappeared right back into her room and dove into her dresser, searching for her enormous Louis Vuitton luggage she had stored away upon her first arrival in this godforsaken place.
Today, Valentine's Day, was Rebel's eighteenth birthday.
And in truth, all that really meant to the exotic exchange was that, by Academy's standards and stipulations, she no longer had to live in this rat hole, but instead could habitat off campus. Overall, it wasn't much better, because she was still in America, and even worse, the Midwest, but at least now she could drink in peace and play her guitar all night, she could be spared all the dirty looks from strangers and students, and most of all, she could be alone.
And so, she packed. The half empty bottles of Rum and crushed packs of cigarettes, the mystic rouge lipsticks and silk scarves. Dior sunglasses, Hunter S. Thompson novels, forgotten homework, sewing needles, leopard print sheets, leather jackets, and Chanel No.5. She stuffed her bags full with her cigarette holder, jade clutch and gold dresses, letters from home and photo booth pictures with Juliette, her Army surplus boots, French flag and rolling papers. She packed up her diamond earrings and ripped jeans, her studded belts, her guitar, her lingerie, vinyls, stuffed dinosaur and her journal. She crammed it all in the luggage, determined to fit her life and all the useless things that defined it into these stupid designer bags and plant them somewhere else, somewhere she could breathe.
She had already found an apartment, an airy loft on the edge of Masonville, and even better, her mother was paying for it. Rebel assumed this had something to do with the fact that, utterly frustrated with her lack of car and freedom, she had gone out and out and bought herself a little transportation the previous week, and needless to say, Vivienne wasn't pleased with her daughter 'just squandering her fortune on useless possessions'. Not when she should have been designing and promoting her name and playing nice. But Rebel didn't care anymore, she just didn't.
Finally having raped her Dorm room of all her possessions, the pink-haired girl took one last look at the room before slamming the door behind her and gathering up all her bags. Headed down the hallway and eventually to her car, she was finally ready to flee the scene. |
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Post by ajora on Feb 20, 2010 17:35:39 GMT -5
 TO SING WHEN YOU'RE HURTING
TO SING WHEN YOU CRY[/color] TO SING WHEN YOU'RE LIVING[/color] TO SING WHEN YOU DIE
- - - - - - - - - - - -[/font][/CENTER] The Academy was a huge place. Larger than your average school, for obvious reasons. The grounds required to house students with such potent, possibly destructive capabilities are mind boggling. Combined with the space required to keep the place a reclusive area? It's going to be massive.
As such, Delacoix was nothing short of lost.
For nearly half an hour, the Vampires footsteps had been echoing throughout various halls of the beautiful building. He was starting to get the feeling he'd completely missed some important, painfully blatant sign directing him towards the dorms. Either that, or for such a well funded place, they were really lacking in the basics of communication.
The sun was nearly down as Delacoix found himself stopped by a student, one he'd passed several times while he made his rounds. After being directed, finally, towards his destination, he pulled his suitcase behind him in search of his new room.
Apparently, whoever owned the room was leaving tonight. It was the only available one on such short notice, and if it weren't for the large 'incentive' the Corperation pushed forward to see that Delacoix found a room, the Academy would have rejected it altogether. He was, after all, above the age of 18 (only be a meager 1201 years).
Small numbers began appearing upon equally small doors, indicating that this was in fact the place the Vampire sought. A sigh of relief found itself cut short by the realization that he still had no clue where he was going, as there were thousands of rooms and he didn't even know his number. What a headache. After a short facepalm, Delacoix retrieved his small Blackberry, his lifeline.
Footsteps now echoed down silent halls, as the Vampire scurried about in search of his new room. His concentration remained upon his Blackberry, rarely glancing upwards to make sure he had not passed his room. Black eyes were focused upon the short email he'd received, detailing his purpose at the Academy. To plan the next raid. Consumed by the task laid before him, Delacoix fell ignorant to the steps of another echoing from around the corner he was approaching.
[/font][/blockquote]
Sorry it's kinda short, but I gotta run for the night. I'll fix it up if you need me to when I reteurn.
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Post by · Rebel La'Beau. on Feb 25, 2010 18:41:17 GMT -5
Rebel had always been a creature of extraordinary multitasking abilities. She supposed it had something to do with being descended from a line of Catholic seamstresses - a breed of women who were constantly tied up minding five projects and ten children at a time. Whatever the reason, it was this endowment that allowed her to carry a backpack, a massive purse of her own design, a duffel bag and drag along a wheeled suitcase while she fished her Blackberry out of her pocket and proceeded to check her text messages.
It was a rather handsome little phone, brand new, jazzed up to all hell and the same deep pink as her richly dyed tendrils; honestly just another vain birthday present she had decided to buy for herself. The girl's adoration for the new toy inevitably ended in it stealing away nearly all of her attention, the road ahead be damned, and so she didn't see, hear or even remotely sense Delacoix coming around the corner.
In classic slapstick fashion, Rebel collided with the boy, falling against his chest with enough force to send her stumbling backward a few steps, only so she could trip over her luggage and fall square on her ass amongst the impressive pile of belongings with a loud swear.
"Merde!" Looking up at her roadblock from the wreckage of suitcases and wild pink curls, Rebel's snarl only seem to make the entire shot that much more comical. Though, it didn't serve to make her any less deadly. "Fils de salope."
"Watch where you are going." Her English was almost as sharp as her scowl, accented by her French rather than being overpowered by it. Pushing away some of the luggage with her feet, the girl sighed, entirely to frustrated to stand up just yet.
It was her birthday. All she wanted to do was get the hell out of here!
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Post by ajora on Feb 25, 2010 21:50:40 GMT -5
TO SING WHEN YOU'RE HURTING
TO SING WHEN YOU CRY [/color] TO SING WHEN YOU'RE LIVING[/color] TO SING WHEN YOU DIE
- - - - - - - - - - - -[/font][/CENTER]
A hello would have sufficed.
A thud to his chest jerked the Vampire's head upwards, simultaneously sending his phone flying several feet away. This was not where his attention fell upon, however, but the overwhelming flurry of pink that sat in the center of the dull gray hall.
[/font] "Merde!" cursed the girl, clearly a little more badgered by situation than Delacoix. "Fils de salope."
It was clear to see why she was so upset. Her luggage and belongings were lay scattered about the hall, strewn everywhere. And there was a lot of it. So either she was moving in, or moving out. Delacoix wasn't informed he was having a roommate... "La langue trop laide par des levres trop belles," Delacoix chuckled, shaking his head. A cold, dead hand reached out to try to help the girl up, only to be met with a devastating glare that stopped it in its tracks.
It was then, and only then, that Delacoix actually took in the girl that had just bounced comically off her chest. He could only blink hysterically for a moment, before realizing his obvious lack of tact. He hadn't felt like this in quite some time. Some time to a Vampire, that is, which is more accurately measured in decades than months. Shock.
Now he was almost hoping he was to have a roommate.
Rather than help her up, Delacoix pushed his own luggage aside and began accumulating her own belongings. Delacoix wondered just how she got everything to fit inside her luggage, and how she managed to carry it all. It was like she was carrying everything she'd ever owned with her. By comparison, the single, black luggage that Delacoix had tossed aside seemed rather feeble."I'm terribly sorry. Please, forgive me," he spoke softly, folding clothes away as neatly as possible. "Are you alright?"
[/blockquote] |
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Post by · Rebel La'Beau. on Feb 26, 2010 2:27:41 GMT -5
Rebel wanted so badly to be angry. The immature, narcissistic desire to throw a temper tantrum was simmering somewhere in her curled fists because she was tired and she was cranky and she was more than haggard. She had been up far too late attempting to pack but instead wound up smoking joints and listening to Serge Gainsbourg, which meant in consequence, that she had to rise extra early and spend her morning trying to cram all of the auspicious and stupid little knickknacks that reminded her of home into the only four bags she had thought to bring along. Living in this castle only sufficed to suffocate her, and she had been counting the days until she could leave it with a vicious single-mindedness, living on one last desperate, frayed nerve after having been separated from her home and country for so long. She was childish enough that she felt like crying, tangled in her belongings and about to finally just say fuck it.
But then the boy in front of her did the loveliest thing, and she found that she could no longer muster the wrath that had been so prominent in her blood not even ten seconds prior. He spoke French, and the sound of it made her heart leap into her throat as she quelled the urge to simply leap on him, if only to have said she found something familiar in this sea of things unfamiliar. As he knelt down before her, she met his eyes for just a second before he went back to attempting to assemble her things. It was just then that she took note of his duffel bag. Was he a new student? Suddenly, all the thoughts of flight dissolved to a place in the very back of her mind.
He reached for a sweater and she caught his hand, thinking something of how cold he felt but at the same time not paying it too much attention. "It's alright, really." Her smile was faint and worn with fatigue, but most importantly it was genuine, and something rather golden seemed to radiate from inside her for just a split second. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch." She wanted to add, I'm having a hell of a morning, but in the end she didn't think it mattered. Retracting her hand, the grin wavered for just a moment before she picked up a few vinyls that were scattered around her, golden eyes falling to her lap.
"I'm Rebel."
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Post by ajora on Feb 26, 2010 21:18:26 GMT -5
TO SING WHEN YOU'RE HURTING
TO SING WHEN YOU CRY [/color] TO SING WHEN YOU'RE LIVING[/color] TO SING WHEN YOU DIE
- - - - - - - - - - - -[/font][/CENTER]
The atmosphere in the hall shifted, dramatically.
Just as Delacoix took a huge emotional swing at the sight of his attacker, so too did she take a mood swing. A second look. An attitude shift. Black eyes locked onto gold, if only for a moment, to confirm the alleviated sense of tension. While it did just that, it did a little more too.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
[/font]
"It's alright, really," she began, granting Delacoix the pleasure of a small smile. Unknown to Delacoix, he had actually stopped moving at this point. Though she had urged him to stop collecting her belongings, he had only shook his head and continued, with his attention more on her than her possessions. When he wanted to be (which was rare, at best) Delacoix was a gentlemen. Not the pathetic version that modern times labeled gentlemen. The real deal. The type found centuries ago in the age of such people. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch. I'm Rebel."
"What an intriguing name you have. Call me Delacoix. Enchanté."
A flood of words rose from the Vampires' unbeating chest. He wanted to tell her just how magnificent she looked. He wanted to get to know this girl, an fast. Hell, he wanted to buy her a house. "Don't worry about a thing," Delacoix beamed, truly unable to contain his grin, "I think I wouldn't have reacted any different if I hadn't gotten a good look at you first."
Delacoix initiated a mental facepalm after his subtle lack of tact. Did he actually just say that? This was just unusual for someone with a millennium of experience in the game. And for a Vampire. And for someone he just met. Was it the French? Was it the eye-catching hair, or the inviting lips? The attitude? He had to find out.
"So what's your hurry, if you don't mind me asking? You seem pretty keen on leaving this place... Is something wrong?" It was quite difficult to keep his gaze off the lingerie lying behind where she was standing. Not because he was picturing her in it. No, Delacoix actually had a soft spot for fashion. Having enough money to buy a small country did that to an individual.
With any luck, Rebel might be looking for her new room as well. They could at least wander about aimlessly, talking the night away in search of their rooms, amidst a sea of dull gray doors and tiny gold numbers. With great luck, one room might earn a pair of new guests, instead of one.
[/blockquote] |
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Post by · Rebel La'Beau. on Feb 27, 2010 19:02:25 GMT -5
Oh, it had been far too long since she had run into anything this inviting.
She repeated his name a few times to herself, determined to remember it though at this point there was surely no danger of forgetting it. Especially when it belonged to a face like the one that was grinning slyly in front of her.
About to reply, the girl looked up only to notice that the mysterious charmer's gaze was contained elsewhere and so Rebel followed his eyes until she too, landed on his point of interest. The pile of lacy things made her smirk for several reasons. The foremost one being that that lingerie in question, just like her purse, was an object of her own creation. They even possessed little tags stitched into the seam that read Cri Rebelle. It was probably vain of her to wear things from her own fashion line, like an artist filling his home with his own self-portraits, but she couldn't help it; she designed things that she liked to wear. It was just a wonderful coincidence that other people seemed to share her good taste. After all, their patronage was funding all of her bad habits.
Reaching out and picking up the ensemble, she passed it over in her hands for a few moments before finally speaking.
"I'm actually on my way out, as it were." She did the best to hold back the quiet touch of regret from her tone as she packed away the lingerie along with a pile of t-shirts and a gauzy leopard print scarf. She was caught wondering just then, exactly how she might of looked; what kind of impression all the belongings she had spilled around herself could give without the hindrance or explanation of words. Rebel was quite sure that at the very least, she must have looked like some terribly eclectic mess; like a bag lady.
"Today's my birthday." She finally admitted, a soft, almost genial smile returning to her face for just an instant before it gave way to something a little more sly. "So I sort of leased myself an apartment as a gift." And the mischievous girl that still lingered just beneath this charming surface had a fleeting thought of empty buildings and their need to be christened, but in the interest of allure, she squashed the comment and merely grinned.
"I'm not really a dorm kind of girl. Not enough privacy." Make of that what you will, but the quick, almost unnoticeable wink that followed surely didn't help simplify anything.
In an uncharacteristically self-conscious moment, the girl was inwardly wishing that she had bothered to brush her hair this morning instead of simply pulling it back into lazy pigtails, which most of her curls had escaped from by now anyway. She wished she was wearing something more interesting than jeans and a grey hoodie, that she had maybe taken the time to put on some makeup. Though, to her credit, who could have possibly guessed that she would run into the only interesting thing that this Academy posed, as she was desperately sneaking out the back door? |
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Post by ajora on Feb 28, 2010 11:39:54 GMT -5
TO SING WHEN YOU'RE HURTING
TO SING WHEN YOU CRY [/color] TO SING WHEN YOU'RE LIVING[/color] TO SING WHEN YOU DIE
- - - - - - - - - - - -[/font][/CENTER]
Many, if not most, men would get the wrong impression of a girl with a vast amount of lingerie on her person. Delacoix could have gotten that impression, if he only saw the clothes themselves. But watching Rebel grasp her delicates with such fondness was about all the Vampire needed. She loved her fashion, not being a whore and prancing around scantily dressed.
[/font]
"I'm actually on my way out, as it were." The hint of resentment, of regret, was incompatible to that felt by Delacoix. The useless lump that was his heart only felt colder, heavier, and more useless. She was leaving. A little voice inside Delacoix screamed out in protest. This was crazy. But he was going to do it anyways.
"Today's my birthday. So I sort of leased myself an apartment as a gift. I'm not really a dorm kind of girl. Not enough privacy." Delacoix picked right up on this. Not just because of her words, but her body language, her facial gestures... And an incredibly subtle wink. It was in this moment that he decided to forget his mission, forget his duty, and forget pretty much everything else. This moment was what mattered, here and now.
"Today is your birthday? Then I guess some celebration is in order, no? We can always find my room another night," he grinned, as the last of her clothing was brought together. "The whole night is on me, skies the limit. I'll drive. Whaddya say?" The Vampire smiled softly, gesturing back towards the way from wence he came. Dark eyes reflecting a sense of kindness he'd long ago taught himself to avoid. This really wasn't an issue for Delacoix. He had enough money to buy a small country if he pleased, and didn't really care to have such a luxury. Working for the Corporation really had its benefits. And now he actually got to show off his new car. Excellent.
Delacoix become suddenly aware of the fact that he had met this girl only minutes proir, and somehow found himself captivated by her, already. Captivated. Not "Oh wow, she's beautiful," or "Lingerie? Nice". Captivated. She wasn't wearing anything special, didn't go out of her way to flirt with him... Delacoix didn't understand. He was suddenly returning to this pinnacle of kindness and virtue he'd forsaken in centuries past. At the time, he'd found no reason or rhyme to be such a person. Perhaps the times were finally changing... For the better.
And didn't even care about understanding anymore.
[/blockquote] |
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Post by · Rebel La'Beau. on Feb 28, 2010 18:00:26 GMT -5
Rebel shifted so that she was sitting on her knees, and did her best to gather up and stack the rest of her bags together against the wall, trying to grasp a semblance of order in the situation. Once it was all out of her way, the girl turned back to Delacoix, her golden eyes hinting something unmistakably mischievous.
As soon as the offer fell from his lips, Rebel was quite sure that even if it hadn't been her birthday, she would have concocted some sort of excuse to assure that she would get at least a few more hours with this strange new creature. Part of her was almost sure that if she were to blink for just a second to long he would disappear altogether, like some sort of grand illusion. To be completely honest, she wouldn't mind finding his room right now, but once more the expatriate opted to replace the thought with a quiet, teasing grin instead.
"Well, if you insist." Though it was clear that Rebel had absolutely no resistance to the idea. She did seem to have a stipulation though, as the corners of her smile wavered for a half-second. "You've got to let me change first." It wasn't so much that she didn't look good - because even dressed down with this insane bed-head, something about those deadly Valentine curls and drop-dead smile always seemed to shine past the grime - but that she didn't feel particularly good. And if she was going out, for her birthday nonetheless, there wasn't a power in the 'verse that was going to stop her from looking as hot as she felt was absolutely necessary.
"We could drop this junk off at my new place, I can dig something off the top to wear and then well, the skies the limit?" This time she smiled for real, curiously beautiful and captivating in a single sanguine gesture. Though, compelled to apologize, she quickly added, "I promise I'll make all the trouble worthwhile." |
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Post by ajora on Mar 1, 2010 22:52:58 GMT -5
TO SING WHEN YOU'RE HURTING
TO SING WHEN YOU CRY [/color] TO SING WHEN YOU'RE LIVING[/color] TO SING WHEN YOU DIE
- - - - - - - - - - - -[/font][/CENTER]
Perhaps it was just the Vampires' mind seeing what it wanted to see, but there certainly seemed to be a seductive, dirty spirit lingering beneath Rebel's surface. It may have been the tone of her voice. Or maybe the subtle smirks, and eyes flitting from his own to various other parts of his body. Perhaps it was that all this was going on while she sat upon her knees before him.
Definitely that last one.
[/font]
"Well, if you insist. You've got to let me change first." The grin only widened upon his face as dozens of cheeky replies flooded his mind. It was clear why she wished to change; Delacoix was dressed quite finely, where-as she was dressed quite simpler. While the look didn't take away from her beauty, women were certainly fickle about such things. Spending enough years with them, this was just another thing Delacoix had come to accept instead of trying to fight.
"Of course! You've got to wear something that commands the attention you deserve for your birthday. Especially with what I have planned," Delacoix trailed off, realizing only now that he'd chucked his Blackberry a few minutes past. Letting out a long exhale, Delacoix rounded to find his precious connection to his job shattered about the hallway. Delacoix, the one who defined himself solely by his work, had actually destroyed his only means of communication with the Corporation at the mere sight of Rebel.
Wow?
"We could drop this junk off at my new place, I can dig something off the top to wear and then well, the skies the limit?" The Vampire nodded slowly, once again facing his beautiful counterpart. "I promise I'll make all the trouble worthwhile." If Delacoix were some sort of player, his ears would have perked up after hearing this sentence. Even though he was not, he still knew what this meant, trying very hard to contain his eagerness now.
"Sounds wonderful to me, beautiful. Let's get out to my car and show this city how to live." After carefully collecting her belongs between the two of them, as to prevent another accident on her part, Delacoix tentatively reached out and grasped the semi-free hand of Rebel. Gently and excitedly tugging her along towards one hell of an adventure. There was no doubt in the Vampires' mind that tonight would be an amazing night. The morning, however, worried him more than usual.
[/blockquote] |
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Post by · Rebel La'Beau. on Mar 2, 2010 22:27:11 GMT -5
» this thread is continued here.
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