Contained, Where am I?

[Kazit]

Head hung forward as he leaned against a pillar, his legs stretched out in front of him, nothing but the echoes of his own heart beating around the corridors of the dead silent hallway. It was that noise that caused him to inhale sharply and cause him to raise his head up from his chest, his eyes peeling wide open, his mouth opened as to take in much air as possible. His vision was poor by the lighting and blur. He could hear his inhale echo down the long large corridor. At first, panic struck into his mind. He had no idea nor clue where he was. But soon he started calming down by rational thinking, avoiding the important question of ‘How’ he got there. Feeling slightly dizzy by the blood pumping furiously in his body, as soon as he regained his senses, he made his first climb up onto his feet. Using the pillar behind him to help for support, he grunted lightly, he was stiff and sore, maybe caused by the lack of movement. How long had he been there? He didn’t really know. Clenching his teeth brought his right hand up, his fingers extending to scratch at the back of his head. He sighed out of frustration, his vision slowly clearing up. Taking in the details and decorations of the corridor, he knew that this wasn’t quite the place he wanted to be. He could call out, see if there was anyone that could lend him some aid. But he had pride, too much of it to even ask for help.
Pushing himself from the pillar he stumbled at first, before finally his legs caught on and started synchronising with each other, his walking becoming more efficient as he began to stroll down the corridor, but cautiously. He found it difficult to cope with. His senses where confused, hearing his echo walk with him and the dim lighted corridor didn’t help with his assurance. He grumbled lightly to himself, hearing it at least six or seven times more. ‘Shut up.’ he spoke out loud, almost as a hiss. His strode stopped, he turned around, eyes focused heavily behind him in the dark. It didn’t echo. Looking around, only taking roughly three minutes tops, seemed like hours for him, satisfied that nothing was mimicking his walking he began to walk again, along with once more, his echo.
His hand slithering down to where normally his blade resided. His hand fell through air. He looked towards his sheath, no blade, no handle. Continuing his walk, he began to think what the last things he had done. He could remember a lot of things, just not to the point of how he got here. It began to irritate him and was he walking in a circle? He felt like he had been treading for hours, his legs were stiff again and he was not amused that his blade was removed from him. Thief? Maybe, he didn’t know for sure, maybe he just left it at home. If he had one. He moved to a familiar pillar, well to be honest, they all looked the same to him. And slumped against it, ideas running through his mind. Should he call out for aid? To at least get him out of this damn maze of a corridor that did nothing but hurt his eyes and legs. He let his tongue slither from his mouth, moistening his lips, retracting he felt the word rumble from his chest.

“Hel-”

Cutting himself off, he wasn’t going too ask for help was he? No, he was just going to call out ’Hello.’ see if anyone was there that could help… Well, that idea faded quite fast. Stupid ego. His eyes looked around some more before letting out a heavy sigh.

[Ria]

It was customary for Farrell to take a prowl around the main entrance at around midnight, just to ensure that everything was as it should be. After all, The Aristocracy was a sacred and secret place and not just anybody could walk in; Farrell, however, often was the one who sought out newly made vampires and demons who had been deserted and were much in need of safety. Tonight he had pulled a cloak from his closet to cover his usual attire - a black leather vest, black trousers and black boots - which meant that in the dark, only his vaguely luminous skin could really be seen. His tread was light upon the carpet which passed smoothly into marble, shadows cast by the sconces dancing over the glistening stone. He paused and surveyed the area, left hand almost cradling the right within the folds of his cloak.

Farrell was not a man of very many words, and his primary job as a prowler suited his harsh personality well. Any wanderers who came to close to The Aristocracy entrance usually didn't last long. Footsteps alerted his senses and his head turned instinctively to where the sound came from - a corridor which was, quite ironically, a dud. One could only find entrances within the smooth walls if one knew where to look, otherwise you merely went in one side and came out on another, practically the same scene greeting you. Farrell passed silently over the marble to the corridor, a slight smirk spreading over his lips. Who could be aimlessly wandering around The Aristocracy; people that came were usually escorted by either a mentor or a friend, and in some cases a master of some description. Yet Farrell was only aware of one pair of footsteps and he was not someone who could be easily deceived.

He paused at the mouth of the corridor, checking to see whether or not the sound was retreating or getting closer. When the latter was settled upon, Farrell stepped back into a hollow and waited patiently, wishing to know before he was known of. A man, a mortal man, appeared from the corridor and passed directly to a seemingly familiar pillar. Farrell watched as he slouched against it, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. He was weak, that along could be gleaned from his stature and manner of walking.

“Hel-” He began to ask for held, Farrell presumed, but the man cut it short and sighed.

Deciding it was time to show himself, Farrell stepped out into the delicately illuminated space and stood before the man. He gave the mortal time to be shocked, or to plead for help or even to scream. Then Farrell spoke, rough tones emerging from parted lips. Soft and yet very hard, also.

"I have three questions. One, who are you? Two, what are you doing here? Three, how have you come to be here?"

[Kazit]

Raising his head slowly to a voice that seemed to just appear before him, attached with a figure. His vision blurred in and out but slowly began to focus on the one that had approached him. His right eye lid twitched lightly and his mouth opened, able to contain his ‘Euyah.’ For what seemed like eternity, all he could do was stare at the new feature that appeared before him. Thoughts pulsing through his mind, like the blood that flowed through his arteries. The veins expanding within his mind, a slow thudding pain shooting across his forehead followed by a wince. Really unable to tell distinct features, all that was certain was that the figure wasn’t exactly angelic looking.

He raised his hand up, rubbing at his eyes, not only hoping to clear his vision but also his mind. He needed to get things under control. He could hear the voice demand for answers. Each question was like someone forcing a needle through his mind, a terrible mind numbing pain. Refusing to answer in this state of condition. He only rested his head within his palm, refusing to look at the character. Mumbling incoherently to himself.

After a few moments, the pain subsided, allowing him to think clearly. He dropped his hand from his face, using both of his palms to keep his back straight as he bent over, leaning on his knees. His head tilted to the side lightly and stared at the crimson floor. He should really answer the man out of politeness. He coughed softly, clearing his throat. ‘Ryskop.’ he was able to spit out. He was lying about his name of course but there was no need to get friendly and acquainted with the man in the dark. There was another long pause before he spoke once more, this time it seemed more fluent. ‘By all means, show me the exit and I shall leave, Mister…?’ Trying to lure out the figures name, so at least he had something to call him other than ‘creep’. In doing so he was also avoiding the question on how he got here. Something that he did not even know.

How did he get here? That did run through his own mind before meeting up with this… Person. Possible scenarios consisted in either he was drugged, kidnapped in some sort. But no, he wasn’t that foolish enough to let himself be so vulnerable, but in thinking that how did he get here?

[Ria]

‘By all means, show me the exit and I shall leave, Mister…?’

Farrell smirked, sage-green eyes aglitter. The mortal didn't seem very coherent in the head so he gave him a few minutes, just observing him. He was sure that with a piercing glare and the aid of his scarred face the mortal would answer him. After all, it was just a matter of time until Farrell got the truth out of him.

"That doesn't answer my question, does it, Sir? And I don't think leaving is really an option."

It was a shame, Farrell thought half-heartedly, that the unfortunate mortal hadn't found someone more sympathetic as he stumbled through the corridor. Farrell was proud to say that he was cold and harsh, embittered by life itself and quite at liberty to make other people uncomfortable whenever possible. He begun to pace, walking in a slow, measured circle around the man. His footsteps barely made a sound and the rustle of his cloak could hardly be described as even a whisper.

"You see, this is a curious situation. People don't just happen to be here, they are invited or they are brought. In all of my time here a mortal has never so freely entered these walls, walls which guard something I doubt you have any comprehension of. So I will ask you again, just once more. Who are you? What are you doing here? And how have you come to be here? Once we have established the answers to those three points then you can ask me who I am, and perhaps I shall answer you."

Farrell had come to a halt in front of the mortal once more and fixed him with another look of smug patience, one which conveyed to the onlooker that this immortal could wait forever for an answer.

[Kazit]

His eyes rested on the floor. It was true, he didn’t answer his question. But how could he tell the man that he didn’t know. From his experience, even the truth was the wrong answer. He could feel the beads of sweat drip from the tip of his nose. Craning his neck to the side until the satisfying crack emitted, pushing himself from the pillar to stand tall. He couldn’t refrain himself ‘What are you, some sort of Illuminati member?’ It was indeed a rhetorical question, knowing full well that even if he was, he would only deny it. He didn’t like the fact that this man began to circle him, making him feel at unease, almost as if he was scavenging, waiting for the weakest moment of his pray.

‘I presume not.’ His voice was much clearer, his fingers swirled at the empty air of where his yielded blade use to exist. What seemed to perturb him was the fact that the man referred to him as mortal. Was he suggesting that he wasn’t? Maybe he had never lost a fight and with a large ego boost, he presumed that he is immortal? Either way, he was in no state of mind to fight. Judging by his movements and accurate turns. This man was far quicker than himself and the corridor, this hallway was on his side. Different scenarios had drifted across his mind on how to handle this situation. ‘Can you refrain from doing that, please?’

Crossing his arms over. His eyebrow arched lightly as he pondered on the situation. He may as well comply with the man. What is the worse that would happen? Laugh at his situation? His dire situation? He let his eyes rest upon the man before finally submitting his name. ‘Kazit. My name is Kazit.’ His eyes seemed to glaze over as if he was trying to remember something horrific but could not, however he continued to speak. ‘The only purpose I have here is to find the exit. Which I would be grateful if shown the way.’ Looking beyond to the corridor that just repeated the same stature, the same decoration until his eyes could see no further. He raised his shoulders only to drop them, a shrug. ‘I don’t know how I came to be here.’ He didn’t really care at this point if the man believed him. It was the truth and he had no intention of creating something creative to bluff his way out of.

Maybe he will understand that it was only unlucky that he ended up in such a place like this. That he was harmless and would show him the exit. For some reason, Kazit didn’t think things would go that smoothly.

[Ria]

‘Kazit. My name is Kazit.’

His eyes seemed to glaze over as if he was trying to remember something horrific but could not, however he continued to speak.

‘The only purpose I have here is to find the exit. Which I would be grateful if shown the way.’

Looking beyond to the corridor that just repeated the same stature, the same decoration until his eyes could see no further. He raised his shoulders only to drop them, a shrug.

‘I don’t know how I came to be here.’

Farrell let a moment pass before he answered, not satisfied with the mortal's replies. He sighed deeply and pursed his lips slightly, evidently displeased.

"Well, Kazit, I don't find your answers very convincing. You don't know how you came to be here and your only purpose is to get out, hm? It's an odd situation that you find yourself in, is it not? Surely you must be able to tell me what you're really doing here, people don't tend to end up somewhere without knowing how they arrived."

His hands dropped from where they had been clasped and fell loosely to his sides, the right hand somewhat gnarled and scarred. He started to tap the toe of his boot against the marble flooring, finding himself growing impatient with the boy. Why he hadn't killed him outright Farrell was unsure, although deep down he knew that it was because he was simply too cruel. Why let the boy off easily?

"I think perhaps we should take a trip to see Julien. He is the Master of this fine establishment and I'm sure he'd be very interested in your story, or lack of story. I warn you though, he's even less pleasant than I so if you have anything truthful to say, you'd better start talking."

[Kazit]

He sighed and shook his head. He wasn’t interested in what this figure had to say anymore. It was apparent that he did not like his presence, period. He felt slight pity. What a job, being someone’s dog. However, he wasn’t really paying attention to the gentleman that talked to him. Instead, interrupting towards the end of his sentence. ‘Maybe we’ll get some progress from the Gentleman. I’m sure he understands reason and logic.’ Somewhat implying that Farrell was incompetent. Though, he was sure that was not the case. But annoyance and agitation was beginning to dawn on him.

Farrell made it apparent that he had plenty of time but with Kazit- He didn’t have enough and was growing impatient. ‘So, is it safe to presume you have no intention of showing me the exit?’ He closed his eyes lightly, shaking his head. Uncrossing his arms, he waved his right hand in the air as ‘the hell with this’ attitude before letting them both rest behind his back, he felt his personal space was being breached by the man that suddenly appeared before him and did nothing much really but aggravate the situation. He turned his back on him and brought it upon himself to fix the slight discomfort, he walked at least two meters away from Farrell before turning back to look at him. ‘There.’ he spoke loudly but mainly for himself to hear. He had noticed the mans hand that was gnarled and scarred, curiosity waved over his mind. A fire? Well, he let the wave settle before finally he spoke once more.

‘This will be the last thing I’m going to say to you. Because I’m really feeling like I’m wasting…-Pause- Our time.’ He rephrased to sound a little more appealing. He wasn’t going to explain anything further than what was needed and presumed the man had intelligence to follow the conversation. ‘I work for an organization known as ‘I.T.D.’ Now, in this organization, we do things that people pay us to do.’ He began to pace lightly backwards and forth, his hand motioning lightly, confident. Occasionally stopping to look at Farrell, to make sure he was either paying attention or following. ‘These things pretty much vary from anything, a hired man. We have our sections within our group. Our own divisions for people with certain speciality. Mine was… Well, I guess you can say it’s similar to being an assassin.’ Walking up to him his hand slithered behind his back again as he spoke, his head nodding lightly, ruling out possibilities. ‘Now with my line of labour, there is a few reasons why I could end up here. I presume I was drugged because I can’t remember getting here. Maybe with some sort of herb from another continent. Because I have a side effect of headaches, stiffness and being tired. Maybe someone put me here to cause trouble? Either way, I don’t know. It might be something simplistic. But I do know for certain that I have no interest of being here.’ He took a few steps back.

He brought his hand to his chin, leaning it lightly, thinking heavily before finally returning his attention to Farrell. ‘Where am I, exactly?’

[Seral]

From the shadowy labyrinths of the seemingly endless passageways, the vague sound of footsteps became apparent. They were light, barely even gracing the floor although the speed at which they moved was so very swift, as if the one responsible for the sound was in a dreadful hurry. Julien D`Lorve was not one to go prowling for intruders, not unless he was particurlaly desperate for conflict, and to disturb the blonde little sadist was hardly a clever option. For several minutes, the scent of warm, alluring blood had risen to the Frenchman's attention, and, leaving his wine-glass half empty upon the immaculate mahogony desk in his office - he had come in search of the source.

Cold fingers flexed lazily at his sides before he came to a sudden halt - wide azure optics glinting with a wild sense of mischief. Oh, this would be fun. It had been a while since the blonde had come across something quite so delicious as ain intruder - an intruder that was very close, now, he realised with a jolt of excitment. An odd little smile caused ivory lips to slant upwards and to the right, his breath catching in his throat as he listened in the darkness.

"...warn you though, he's even less pleasant than I so if you have anything truthful to say, you'd better start talking."

Farrell. Julien found himself stiffling a gleeful laugh, his palm pressing across his own mouth with absolute delight. If Farrell had stumbled across the intruder, who was undoubtedly mortal, before he himself - then the newcomer would find himself in the dreadful position of cat-and-mouse; which was of course one of Julien's most favoured games.

Incandescent aqua eyes narrowed as he peered into the shadows, irises glittering with a sudden rush of malice as he caught sight of Kazit. He was weak already, and judging by the manner in which he spoke and the subjects he chose - somewhat unaware of what The Aristocracy was. How very unfortunate for a poor innocent mortal to stumble across such a domain. Ever since the start of the French Revolution, Julien found himself somewhat confined, unable to stalk Paris with the pomp and flourish that he so adored - and so small things such as this alighted his vindictive nature like fire to a match.

‘Where am I, exactly?’

With a sigh loud enough to disturb someone two hall-ways away, Julien pushed himself away from the wall, the tip of one long glassy nail dragging across the stone with a sickening scrape. Golden curls caught the light as he sauntered forward, weaving lies of angelic innocence in stark-white features - his expression utterly euphoric.

"You, cheri, are inside The Aristocracy," with a wide grin aimed towards Farrell, and a frivolous wink, the blonde continued to advance towards Kazit. "You are inside my world, and I don't..quite think you're aware of what a grave danger that is. We are a coven, and you..well, you certainly don't fit the standards needed to join."

[Kazit]

His eyes wondered over to the cough, catching the figure that revealed himself. Great, another one. He thought to himself. Like second nature, he only slithered back from where the man appeared from, but also kept his distance from good ol’ Ferrall. His arms relaxing by his side, his head canted to the right, absorbing the features of the man. Pale, deathly pale. Almost reminding him of embalmed victims. He wondered lightly why everyone seemed so pale. Maybe it had something to do with this place? He cringed lightly to the sound that reminded him of finger nails to a chalk board. ‘Fantastic.’ He spoke loud. Clapping enthusiastically before the facade dropped completely and showed his sarcastic humour. He didn’t find it necessary for who he presumed as Julien to make quite an entrance. He listened intently to the man that enjoyed explaining to him of the errors of being in his current location.

With each step Julien advanced, Kazit took one back. Once again, it was the issue with his personal space. His personal bubble. However, he felt that it was necessary to expand it a bit further. Almost instantly he found Julien a threat, more of a threat than the ‘creep’ that appeared first. ‘Your world, is it? Nice decor.’ He squinted his eyes lightly as he listened furthermore to Julien. ‘Grave danger.’ He repeated. ‘Coven?’ His eyebrows arched lightly. He opened his eyes further to see properly, it had taken some time but his eyes finally adjusted to the lighting. He couldn’t’ find the more suiting description to describe Julien other than… ‘Fruity.’ A nervous smirk coiled up his right side of his cheek. His eyes slithering down the figure before returning to his eyes.

‘I do apologize by any inconvenience that may have been caused during my visit in your ‘world’.’ He allowed his hands to slither behind his back once more, feeling onto something that calmed his nerves. Allowing his fingers to coil around it, grasping to a satisfying squeeze. The noise of leather rubbing against each other. He drooped his left hand and held up his palm. ‘Can you, please stop moving towards me. I’d really appreciate it.’ He seemed quite edgy and nervous. Though, things started piecing together that he wasn’t really enjoying. His lips parting as he whispered his native tongue. ‘Sie sind nicht normal…’

He began to move a lot, even though he was standing in the same place, he swayed slightly. Almost as if he was listening to a song and dancing a long to it, gracefully. ‘Well, if you’d like to advise me of the exit and I’ll be on my way.’ He guessed that that would be out of the question. But maybe his persistence would break through. Either way, if it might avoid what he believed was about to happen, then he would. The tension was thick. And he could fell his heart pounding within his chest. The blood flowed through him increasingly. His arteries pumping, the swoosh and swirls, his nervous smirk appeared once more.

[Ria]

Farrell's hands clasped each other behind his back as Julien approached, blonde curls showing very possible tone of gold as he approached them. He could see already that Julien was in one of his vindictive moods, the smirk on his face was evidence enough and there was a glint of malicious intent in those aqua eyes. As the blonde vampire moved closer and closer to the mortal the bitter smile on Farrell's face grew.

"You, cheri, are inside The Aristocracy," with a wide grin aimed towards Farrell, and a frivolous wink, the blonde continued to advance towards Kazit. "You are inside my world, and I don't..quite think you're aware of what a grave danger that is. We are a coven, and you..well, you certainly don't fit the standards needed to join."

A tiny laugh slipped from Farrell's lips at Julien's last comment, the mortal didn't fit the standards at all. He watched at the man turned Julien's words over in his mind, his disbelief quite plain on his face. An eyebrow arched and Farrell knew that the boy thought that the blonde vampire was a little crazed; Julien wasn't altogether stable in the head, that was evident, but he was too clever to insult or patronise.

When he asked Julien to stop moving towards him Farrell stepped closer also, feeding off the mortal's discomfort. After all, why should he be treated nicely? He had shown no respect to them thus far and had lied to them also. In the wavering light shadows made Farrell's face look even more unpleasant, the scar which stretched from his eye to his chin appeared more gruesome.

A whisper of a foreign tongue slithered out into the atmosphere, ‘Sie sind nicht normal…’

A cold laugh rumbled from within Farrell's chest, "Nein, nicht normal überhaupt. Was denken Sie, sind wir?*"

The butterfly of the mortal's heart was fluttering a mile a minute, beating feeble wings against the shell of an equally feeble body. How easy it would be to extinguish the flame inside, no more significant than a tea-light candle.

‘Well, if you’d like to advise me of the exit and I’ll be on my way.’

"Don't be a fool, you know you're not going anywhere..." Farrell smirked with evident delight.


* "No, not normal at all. What do you think we are?"

[Kazit]

Hearing a pop of a button, slowly withdrawing his hand that held behind his back. Only two more straps that needed to be unfastened before he wielded something to fend off the two that continued at constant pace. His eyes shot towards Farrell’s, his left twitched as he listened to him. Rhetorical question? Most likely, even if he was incorrect, he refused to amuse the ‘creep’. Grinding his teeth lightly, his eyes shot from Julien and Farrell. Watching as they advanced towards him. His heart began to slow down, the blood surged around his ears, as if they are whispering to him. He closed his eyes, he could feel them watching, advancing him.

He felt that his soul was almost snuffed out of him, he always believed that when it was his time to die, only the Crows would know why. But they were no Crows. And in his state and mental condition, he wouldn’t be able to fend them off for every, he could feel them pecking at his soul, like they were crows themselves. What lies beneath their eyes? Who guides them? Do they want his last breath? Why was he afraid their eyes that looked dead? He let out a slight cough, was he cursed with this headache forever.

His mind was deep in thought, he couldn’t escape from this place, that was for certain and he didn’t need ‘creep’ to remind him. * “Schwarzes als Magie…” His eyes opened slowly, looking towards Julien. “Keep your black tongue of me.” He let out a sharp grin. Nothing but walls, he was going to make stains on the walls, so at least the next man that fell in could at least see things. He craned his neck at a certain angle to allow it to crack, relieving pressure. The air rushed into his lungs as he readied himself, the second button popped. He had nothing else to say, he was done with witty comments. Standing at a slight posture to help hold his ground, he had stopped retreating and waited for them.

*"Black as magic..."

[[ Sorry it sucks! .____.'' ]]

[Seral]

Crystalline blue eyes rolled, and Julien merely continued in his languid walk towards Kazit. If such a swagger and wave of narrow hips could even be named as walking - each motin was feline and predatorial; the slight madness in creamy features suddenly replaced by crisp virulent grace. Insane was perhaps not the correct term to describe the blonde - after all, he was devious and unscrupulous, things which required a clever and quick mind.

"Tsk tsk, mon amie...now, that's not a very nice way to speak to me, is it? And poor Farrell here has probably been the brunt of your insults for quite a while before I appeared..," His voice was breathy and girlish, mocking without so much as dropping a cruel comment. "After all, you are the intruder here.."

His tones changed suddenly, descending into something almost toxic and malignant - creating a curl of his upper lip and a sudden increase in speed.

"You have no right whatsoever to be inside here, you are a mortal and you bring trouble, I can smell it in your very aura. I'm afraid, darling, that I absolutely cannot show you the way out." A smile reached either side of his mouth now, drawing them up wickedly, pearly white teeth flashing in the gesture. "I would have to kill you."

It had been a while since a mortal had truly stood up to Julien - true enough, he had to put himself through her company every day, with her charming smiles and side-long devious glances, although no one else could possibly get away with it. Only the desperate coils of loyalty had kept him from murdering her years ago, loyalty and an odd sense of attachment to her and her exotic presence. This mortal before him, however, with his wild attempts at patronising and odd little grins - he was nothing. Merely akin to those others that the blonde deceiver would capture and crush without thinking, while out hunting.

"Black tongue?" With a mock-disgusted expression, Julien released a languid sigh, looking at Farrell with a fake despair in his face. "Oh, he's so cruel, Farrell. I think I might die of a broken heart."

The tip of a cold finger rose, trailing along a petal-like lower lip smoothly as he returned that frosted cerulean gaze to Kazit, his eyes merciless.

"What do you think you can gain, hm?"

[Ria]

[Just to let you know, I'm out all day tomorrow so if you want me to reply, leave it and I'll reply when I get home. If you want to reply, Kazit, then I don't mind at all. I'm not sure how much Farrell has to add, but I can easily make something up if you wish. =] It's entirely up to you.]

[Kazit]

Closing his eyes, he listened to Julien. Thoughts flooded into his mind, nothing coherent. He opened his eyes that settled upon Julien who reminded him of a portrait he had once seen in a gallery. A male with feline features, long curls of blonde hair and a deathly pale skin. Apart from the portrait he had seen, he had ruby red stained lips. As if the image was transparent, he could see how fitting it was for Julien, he couldn’t help himself but allow a chuckle, a random chuckle that was oddly out of place with anything. The thudding on his head continued, the sweat rolled from his forehead, stopping at the tip of his nose, the back of his shirt clung to him, his robe itching around his neck. The leather slipping lightly in his wet grasp. He felt cold. A fever most likely, shaking his head lightly, hanging it low, his chuckle became a heard laugh. He breathed in sharply, causing pain that shot across his chest, he coughed and spluttered before finally catching his breath, using his left hand to wipe away the tears that were formed.

Nothing in this situation was funny. Nothing humours nor was it fascinating, the corridors lost it’s colour, a lot like Julien’s face. Personality, but empty and hallow, a lot like Farrell’s and Julien’s eyes. He opened his mouth lightly, only to crack his jaw, slowly closing it. He watched as Julien enclosed, followed by Farrell. His body was giving up on him slowly, his heart skipped beats, his eyelids closed at un-synchronised times. Having to slither his tongue across his lips to keep them moist. Was it shock that was taking over, fear or maybe poison taking effect? Either way, under the conditions, it hindered him.

His mind was too much of a haze to even answer Julien, to even respond to the situation. ‘What do you think, Tizak?’ he thought to himself. He didn’t reply, ‘Tizak, where are you?’ he thought quietly to himself. He shook his head violently, as if he was waking himself up from a sleepy state. His eyes widened further than normal, his pupils dilated lightly, his heart picked up the pace, induced by adrenaline. His vision, it looked as if he was looking down a long corridor, what a coincidence that he was indeed in a long corridor. The confusion was numb but did not effect the situation anymore than the headache.

His eyes focused on Julien. ‘Julien, Julien, Julien.’ He thought quietly to himself. ‘What will be, what will be.’ With that, the final button popped and with a swift shrug of his shoulder, the robe was thrown, as his hand wavered through an arms length blade. He swirling the blade around, using it as a propeller, his wrist bending and swerving to keep speed the pace up, until it got a decent speed that would cause damage upon impact. By deductions, it was clear that Julien was more of a threat than Farrell, which wasn’t an excuse or reason to believe that he was not dangerous.

At this point, he had passed the point of caring. ‘Dark Beauty.’ He spoke silently but was sure he was heard. A little chuckle followed but ended soon after. He didn’t think it would be long before he was taking down, he believed so. Poison. He believed, he felt his arteries pump it around. The burning sensation only increased and he could feel it worsen wave by wave. He was going to die anyway. Regardless if these men had shown up. The only thing he had regretted, was not being able to die alone with his own thoughts. He could feel his vital organs slowly shutting down on him, the only thing keeping him going was the adrenaline and fear.

He stared into the eyes of the men and saw nothing. And he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was frightened. Knowing full well, even in his best condition, he most likely tire before them. Something was amiss with Julien, specially Julien. A darker sensation, a more morbid personality. Someone who craved, craved for blood. Though, the thought of vampire would never cross his mind. His body was beginning to stiffen, it was time to make a move before he just collapsed and died. And he was sure not going to just flop dead in front of them, though the thought, he found was amusing.

[Ria]

Farrell had been trying to determine what was going through the boy's head for some time and to no avail, there was a wild look in his eyes which just shouted determination. He was weak, yes, but undeniably defiant. It didn't bother Farrell a great deal, he shouldn't be hurt by some foolish mortal anyway. Julien, however, was amusing him. Julien with his curls and malicious swipe of a mouth, the oh-so-merciless voice.

"What do you think you can gain, hm?"

"He can't gain anything Julien, he knows that. Look at his face, those eyes are the eyes of a trapped deer. He knows he's lost, he knew it before he even begun." Farrell's voice was soft and low, it could almost be called gentle if the words were kinder.

Out of nowhere came the blade, a flash of silver that caught the light as he swiped it around dangerously. There was deftness, Farrell was sure, but any mortal scale of dexterity was long buried within him. Farrell stepped forward and took Kazit's hands between his own, keeping them held aloft. For the vampire his grip was light but he knew that for Kazit it would be impossible to escape from. Farrell shifted so that Julien could see the mortal's face, and he gave the blonde a smirk.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." He tutted in Kazit's ear, the whisper snaking out through pale lips. "That was very impolite. What shall we do with him, Julien?"



[Let me know if you want an edit. Sorry, it's so short. >.<

Kazit, not that I want be rude at all, but do you think that in your posts you could possibly include some speech? As in, direct speech more than him muttering to himself. It makes it easier for everyone else to follow on, plus they can write more. =] If someone asked Kazit a question perhaps you could add it in, then answer it and/or react to it. Or he could say something unrelated, but we're able to respond to it, if that follows? I'm not trying to say that there's anything wrong with your RPing, not at all, but when there's more of us then speech is often a good way forward.

Oh and earlier your character seemed a bit confused as to what The Aristocracy was. I'm sure that was just a pretense on your part, but if there's any confusion then you can look in the rules. It explains a good deal as well as giving the password. ;] ]