Posts by Warriors_9023

Ethan nodded and stayed silent for the rest of the journey, letting Lily have her fun with the speeds. From time to time, he glanced at her, still enthralled by the excited sparkle that lit her eyes up at every speed boost. Then finally, they stopped to burn his shirt, and he nodded and cautiously got out the car. He stood for a moment, stretching his body. He had concentrated most of his energy to heal the bullet wound in his thigh so he could walk better---the hole now consisted of a very large scab. The other two, on the other hand, were still raw. He'd have to buy new bandages at the next stop. He grabbed his bloodied, stinky shirt from the back and looked to Lily.

"You have a lighter?" he asked, walking to the side of the road and onto the dried dirt and weeds.

Ethan smiled at her, but gently resisted her help. He could walk now, so that was okay. The only thing that cost him for healing so fast was hunger and a constant drowsiness.

"Extra? Man, aren't' you well prepared." he mused casually, taking the lighter from her. As he flicked the roller, a tiny flame leapt up into existence, its tip lapping the edges of his tattered shirt which he held above the flame. It started out slowly at first, but finally the cloth caught on fire. Ethan moved the lighter back and forth along the edge, allowing the flames to grow and spread upwards. Soon enough, he held an inferno of fire and he held it in front of him as the shirt burned and smoked. He let the shirt drop as the tips of the flames licked his fingers, and he watched as the smouldering black cloth burned away on the ground. "That should do it." Ethan murmured, eyes fixed on the now dying fire.

Ethan shot her a weird look.

"When you first tasted---you know what I'm not even going to ask." he ended quickly, turning to walk back to the car. "And for the record, vampire blood isn't the greatest either." the werewolf remarked, giving her a dry smile. He slipped back into the car and pulled the seatbelt across his chest once again. The was slightly better, as far as he could tell, but he knew he'd have to rinse everything off soon---even he was beginning to feel disgusted by the bloody bandages drying up on his body. "Let's hope the next stop has some sort of public shower."

Ethan's smile only grew as he gave her an odd look, one of his eyebrows arching up quizzically.

"Get a taste of me, huh?" he mused, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And how exactly would you do that?" he asked, his eyes shining. Ethan felt the wheels beneath them spin faster and faster as the car picked up speed, and once again he could feel nothing but the wind blowing around him and Lily.

A small laugh escaped Ethan's throat as he watched the colour rise in Lily's cheeks. But then his laugh died as he looked back out the window, contemplating what she said. He was going to say that he had, in fact, seen multiple vampires hunt. He'd been hunted be several, actually, back in the middle ages. But of course, she didn't need to know that. Ethan was more interested in what she last said.

"What are you implying, Ms. Stein?" he retorted, the touch of a smile still on his lips.

かねがわ　そら
Kanegawa Sora

Age: He looks a lot older than he really is. Find out.

Looks: Pure white hair, ears, and tail. Odd-eyed, left eye yellow, right eye red.

Sexuality: Gay, but is very secretive and self-conscious about it. When circumstances require it, he'd even flirt with the women just to hide his true tastes.

Personality: Real nature, he is the quiet-type. But being seen as a high-status neko male, people know him as being impassive, yet strict and down to earth. No one really knows his true persona. Get to know him a bit more, and you'll see his gentle, introverted side. Roleplay to find out more.

Species: Neko

Can I reconfirm a few things---is your charrie a half neko, dog, or wolf? Cause you mentioned all three so I was confused.
I also wanna get a clear picture when I imagine our role play: what time period is this placed in? (modern, old japan, etc.)

Other than that I'm ready to role play in my next post. :)

Although tonight was one of the more smaller-scaled parties, the pale neko male still preferred to distance himself away from the crowd. Usually, he was able to think of reasonable excuses to leave the party early---either a domestic issue needed his attention, or he was feeling "unwell". Sometimes, if there were enough people milling about, he could slip away unnoticed, and not many people would question it. Some of the perks of attaining high status; people didn't try to challenge him. And so the tall, graceful male glided down the halls, his long legs carrying him quickly through the extravagant decor and carpet. He had kept it plain and simple this evening by donning a crisp hakama that comboed a navy blue top with snow-white pants bottoms. Out of his entire wardrobe at home, it was one of his favorites because of its simplicity.

The ghostly man drifted towards the exit, the Hakama billowing behind him when he heard the sounds of quick footsteps and heavy breathing. With the exit doors of the large mansion just to his right, he turned towards the urgent footsteps to see who was in such a hurry. Then something small and timid crashed and bounced right off his chest, and the larger neko blinked. Cheap, scandalous clothing. A battered expression. Rope. Wild, darting eyes. A slave. What was he doing here, so near the exit? The higher standing male looked down upon the neko slave, his two coloured eyes glimmering with mild surprise. He'd seen this slave before. From multiple parties. He could never forget those fiery eyes of life. And right now, they were staring up at him in dread as if he were the Grim Reaper.

It took two whole seconds for the man to get his act together. The slave was trying to escape. There was no one else in the immediate vicinity, no guards. But this was not a problem for him---he could easily overpower the smaller neko, bring him back to his rightful master. But wait. Was that what he really planned to do? So instead he spoke no words as he stood there in front of the doors, looking curiously down over the slave to see what he would do next. The sounds of the party could be heard from deep within the mansion as the two stared at each other for several silent moments.

Ethan looked at her again with a queer look in his eyes.

"Hmm, you may be surprised how much patience one can develop over several centuries. Perhaps we can go hunting some time." he replied, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. An image of sprinting through the forest with Lily filled his mind. He could see them crouching behind bushes, waiting for a deer to begin nibbling on the grass before they both pounced. Then he could see the two of them surrounding an elk, trapping it for the kill. The thought put his mind at ease. The werewolf did find it easier to hunt with a buddy. Sure, hunting solo had its benefits too, but the more the merrier, right?

The tall, white neko stood completely still as the slave went on, talking in a demeanour he knew most slaves wouldn't dare to voice. However, one of his snow white ears twitched as he heard the guards running down the hall towards them. His impassive, yet warm eyes looked down upon the now panicking, blonde neko, and he could see the fear emanating from the escapee. Fear that once belonged to his own eyes.

Suddenly, the great white male's eyes turned as cold as steel, and they narrowed as his calm expression hardened. In a flash, he grabbed the slave by the shoulders and whirled him around to face the guards. The rope that had been previously left dangling by the neko's side was now in his hand, and he swiftly tied the slave's wrists together behind his back, tightening it painfully at the end in a knot.

"Good evening, gentlemen." the senior male greeted politely as he pulled the slave closer to him by the wrists. "May I help you with something?" he asked innocently, squeezing the smaller male's wrists hard, hoping to distract him from saying anything else.

Ethan looked out his window as they drove into the small, inhabited area. Finally, it was about time he looked for some new clothes. He'd ditched all his belongings back in the city. He hoped Scott would help him out with the details of moving out. Ethan glanced at Lily, seeing her exhale in relief. He reached out and placed a hand on her thigh, giving her a comforting rub.

"We're safe." he reassured, looking at her softly. His senses had already scanned the small area minutes before they had arrived, and he hadn't sensed anyone else other than the common humans.

Ethan grinned at the zombie comment, and quickly kissed her back before she exited the car. He followed soon after, quickly walking after Lily. As she signed in for a room, he tried to look casual despite his outlook, mostly hiding behind Lily when the woman at the desk looked up. Finally the ordeal was over with, and the werewolf quickly pressed the button for the elevator. He looked at Lily with a smile, spotting the woman taking a double look at him.

"Let's hope no one calls the cops on you." he smirked, taking her hand in his as the elevator doors opened for them.

[img width=370 height=510]http://data2.whicdn.com/images/24271641/large.png[/img]
Max Powell

Age:
19

Sexuality:
Gay

Family:
Mother-Lily Powell
Father-Ethan Powell
(single child)

-->And i'm find with PMing the explicit parts. :)
Ready to role play in next post.

ooc haha sleep well. I'll start it off then.

Habitual sleeplessness; the inability to sleep. A.k.a, insomnia. Most people would think of this as a dreadful disorder, a torturous existence of inadequate sleep. But to a certain college freshman, this would have been a glorious luxury in his life. An ambrosia from the gods.

It would mean an end to all the nightmares.

Max Powell: high school graduate, ex-member of the school's art club, diagnosed with anxiety disorder, complete outcast. It had been eight months, eight months since the mugging, and the shadows of the night still refused to leave him alone in his sleep. He refused to leave him alone in his sleep. For the past month, the nightmares had begun to become frighteningly vivid and realistic---just the proof of how insane he was going. Tonight however, it was at its worst. And so Max lay there that morning in his sleep, paralyzed in a cold sweat as if in the final stages of rigor mortis. His eyes darted around beneath his eyelids as he saw a glimpse of chocolate brown hair. The scent of his cologne. That cheeky grin that formed words. Hold on, words? What was he saying? As Max stared helplessly at the mind-conjured replica of his deceased friend, all he could hear was an echo of his voice. I'm right here. I'm right here!

Max's eyes shot open. The sheets were twisted around his body again, as if preparing him for the coffin. He turned to his side and faced the wall. Reve, Reve, Reve. Just couldn't leave him alone, could he? In the past eight months, Max's grades plummeted. He was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, and skipped school once every now and then when he just couldn't bring himself to get up. Of course, there were the usual pity speeches from everyone around him: about how the poor blonde kid who lost his best friend to a tragic event. At the time, Max hadn't believed it. I mean, Reve? Mugged and shot? Ridiculous. But still, it had been more than half a year. People were expecting him to move on, which only made it even worse. Bleary-eyed, he checked his alarm---ten minutes past three in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in bed and swung his legs over the edge. A cold face wash usually did the trick.

But as he opened his eyes again, something made him stop. Someone was sitting in the middle of his room. As Max looked closer, he noticed brown hair and a familiar face. F*ck the heavens. This was getting surreal. He grabbed an extra pillow and tossed it at the boy, before digging his head in his hands. Still dreaming. Of course.

"Oh just f*ck off already." he moaned, pressing his fingers against his temple.

The graceful white male only nodded curtly as the guards walked off, the corners of his lips turned down in a permanent scowl that so many of his status wore on their faces. Then, with his rope-wrapped hand holding on tightly to both of the slave's wrists, he turned around and strode right out the magnificent doors and into the cool, autumn night. The moon was full tonight, casting its silvery gaze upon the large courtyard that still surrounded the wealthy mansion. Elegant bonsai trees and immature sakura trees dotted the gardens that surrounded the center pavilion. In a small creek to the side, various koi swam lazily around beneath the dancing refractions of moonlight. It was the perfect, typical housing of a filthy rich japanese.

But they were still not alone. Walking casually in the shadows of the trees and shrubs were multiple guards. Having become bored from the inactivity of the night, they murmured quietly together in small groups. But as the great white neko slipped out of the doors, they all scurried back to their posts and stood at attention. With his grip on the slave not getting any looser, he cast his iron gaze to the outer and final door---the only exit. Regally, he walked down the main path, pushing the slave in front of him as they walked. Usually, most masters held on to their slaves with leashes of rope, and had them trail sluggishly behind their wealthy feet. But the great white male was confident that the guards wouldn't pay any attention. As mentioned before: no one dared challenge him.

And so finally, after a painfully slow stroll of tall composure, they reached the outer doors of the courtyard. But they were still not alone. Few guards were placed here and there along the outside of the vicinity, and it wasn't until they were completely out of earshot down the path that the man untied the rope on the slave and released his steel grip. The hardened look in his eyes melted, which was replaced with the same, impassive expression from before. Calm, with mild curiosity.

The white haired male stood silently in front of the smaller neko, the moonlight illuminating his snow-white hair and causing it to glow silver. His single red iris shined eerily in the dark, reflecting the light and appearing to be a ghostly yellow. He remembered seeing this particular slave multiple times in Lord Yukimura's parties, usually tied up and flaunted like the rest. But what had caught his interest every time---interest meaning a glance that lasted at least five seconds---was the fire in his eyes. The will to live. The spiteful, heated defiance that made all the difference between a slave, and a captive.

"I have no interest in rewards." the regal male finally stated bluntly, the curious sparkle of warmth in his eyes now hidden behind a rock solid wall of ice. "Run along now. It won't be long before Yukimura finds out you have escaped from the grounds entirely." he prompted, brushing past the slave and beginning his walk down the road to where his rickshaw awaited in the far distance. Although nothing was displayed on his face, the neko male worried for the slave. What if the guards caught him again? Surely, his punishment would be beyond that of hell. He knew Yukimura, and he did not take these things lightly. In a way, the high standing male feared for the slave. But why should that matter? He was a mere slave. One with a unique defiance, perhaps. But it was not worth the risk to delve even deeper into trouble. He had already aided the slave in escaping the infamous Lord Yukimura---only the heavens would know what sort of retribution he, one worthy of donning a hakama, would receive for helping the lowliest of the low to escape.

What had he been thinking? The thought of grabbing the puny neko and turning him in crossed his mind, and it wasn't a bad idea at all. It would definitely avoid future hustles. But no, he wouldn't. Moreso, he couldn't. He'd brought him this far, and now all there was left to do was to let him run free. He'll find a way to survive....right?

A tight-lipped smile formed on his lips as Ethan reached around and pulled her closer to his side by her waist. The elevator reached the third floor, and the doors dinged open.

"Says the woman who somehow attracts irregular, rogue vampires from all over the place." he replied smoothly, before playfully tickling her near the ribs with the hand that had been previously resting on her hip. He quickly jumped out of the elevator with a small laugh, knowing she'd come after him. He jogged down the hall without looking back, towards the door that led to their room. Then something clicked in the back of his mind. What was he doing? He was acting so childish, like a how a boy would. Although he may look younger beyond his years, Ethan still didn't use this as an excuse. But he could barely remember the last time he had messed around like what a normal, twenty-five year old would do. In this case, something relaxed in his chest, as if someone had released a clasp to a tight belt that had been wrapped around his rip cage. In a way, it all released tension.

Then he realised that Lily had the keys to the door, and his face fell as he turned to meet her in a giddy surrender.

Ethan looked down in playful shame, his face still splitting open with a ridiculous grin. He nodded bashfully and reached out to take the keys---only to have it swiped out of his reach.

"Hey." he whined, before suddenly bending over and tackling Lily at the waist. In one swift swoop, he hefted her on one of his shoulders with her legs dangling in front of him and proceeded to walk back down the hallway. "Now I shall hold the one who holds the keys! Haha!" he cackled, letting out a hearty laugh as he bundled back down the hallway with the vampire on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Ethan chuckled, hefting her up again before walking quickly back towards the door. "Unless you'd like to give the floor a hug." he laughed, approaching their booked room once again. He heard something that resembled a girly squeal that sounded from Lily's mouth, and grinned. He'd always seen her so serious and so stressed, that this noise caught him off guard. Grunting, he gently plopped the vampire back on her feet. Usually, it wouldn't have been a problem for him, but the werewolf was beginning to feel the weight in wounds.

"Sorry, I'm gonna have to put you down, princess." he sighed, straightening and pressing a hand against the bloodied bandages around his stomach. He could tell that the wound wasn't completely raw---but Ethan had been trying to heal the three bullet holes in order: top priority was the one in his thigh. Second was the shoulder, and the last was his stomach. Neither of them were raw anymore, except for the stomach wound. He leaned a hand against the wall next to the door, chuckling softly as he added pressure to the wound which had begun to bleed again. "Sh*t, maybe I shouldn't have done that." he pointed out meekly, looking at her with a sheepish smile.

Despite the growing, throbbing pain centered around his abdomen, Ethan couldn't help but smile at her last comment.

"Shame." he murmured. But he knew fun time was over. His body was screaming for sleep---he could always heal fastest when asleep. Although instincts prodded him to do things himself, he relaxed as he felt Lily offer her support. He could trust her. The old werewolf was irritated that he had to tell himself this multiple times before he actually did anything. So he lent some of his weight to the vampire as they walked into the small room. It was perfect for two. Then Ethan sensed the growing worry within Lily as he eased himself down onto the edge of the bed. He looked up at her with a smile in his eyes, his pale green irises shimmering with love. "I'll be fine as long as I'm around you, Ms. Commando." he grinned whilst slowly laying himself down onto the bed.

Ethan watched grimly as he saw the set look on Lily's face as she bustled around the rooms. He kept an impassive face, wanting to let her know that the bullets were not hurting him as much as she may think, but the way her face was set caused him to give up. He could tell she was trying to keep her hands busy in order to keep from breaking apart, and Ethan knew he'd make things worse if he said anything else. So instead, he accepted her kiss and watched her leave. When he heard the door close, Ethan scanned the room, taking in the plain wallpaper and the few furniture that cluttered the floor. He raised himself onto his elbows, and lifted the towel to peek at the wound. All he saw was a dark, mass of red. Scowling, the werewolf lay back down completely on the sheets, closing his eyes. It had been more than several decades since he was last shot. Going solo over the past century had really proven a useful tactic in avoiding skirmishes with others, which saved him from bullet wounds. Although Ethan would have liked to believe he was used to the pain, he wasn't. Normal, metal bullets proved to be a lot less painful than silver ones, and Ethan could feel the effect.

But the werewolf trusted his imprint, and so slowly, his clenched jaw slackened, and the frown lines disappeared from between his eyebrows. He was not going to die now. Lily needed him, and vice versa.