|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 10, 2013 0:47:51 GMT -5
Dorian slept soundly that night; he had been cradled for a large part of the afternoon in the arms of the woman who loved him, and who sometimes he would admit that he loved. She had him nestled in the most comfort she could find, for all the pain he was in. He was hurting a lot, both from the pain that was searing in his abdomen, from Quincy's vindictive blade, and from his heart which was being pulled beyond any normal limits, and from his mind which was aching trying to remember what had gone on. Four days, he'd been unconcious or asleep, and he knew that it had to have troubled Ruby.
When he awoke again it was morning; sunlight streamed through the window, whose curtains were only partially drawn. For a moment, Dorian could not feel the mark of the blade in his stomach, but then the pain came flooding in and he could only grunt and groan in the agony of it. Nothing seemed to dull the pain. Not only had Quincy stabbed deep into his front, but he had twisted the damned blade, trying to kill him as painfully and slowly as he could. What a vengeful soul! Quincy had never been anything more than an off-and-on bedfellow, perhaps even a friend, but never anything deeper. He should have known that Quincy wanted more, than he didn't understand the extent of Dorian's cold, unfeeling nature. But Dorian had not been careful as he should; he had lost this battle.
Beside him when he awoke, he could see through the pain the sleeping, no longer so terribly worried form of Ruby, of his lover. He missed her, he did. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd seen her last, and especially since he had seen her happy. That was what he wanted right now. To heal, not only for his own good, but for hers. He would heal faster than most and the scar would never form on his mortal body, but he had come very close to death. Nothing had ever been this near. It was something that scarred his mind, scared him, made him feel less like a monster and more human than he'd ever felt... He reached over to move a strand of Ruby's hair, groaning in pain even from such a simple movement.
It hurt, but it felt nice. "Wake, my love," he said quietly, stroking her face after he'd pulled himself strenuously a little bit closer to her. He was feeling a bit better now; he was still in pain but it was closing. He needed Ruby now, though, because he was not sure his servants could or would attend to what he needed. Ruby loved him regardless.
As he watched her, he sighed. He had been overwhelmed by all that had gone on lately, and he had no idea what all she had done to Quincy. As jealous and protective as she was, Dorian didn't think he wanted to ask. When Ruby had awoken, he had only one request. "Go eat. Go make yourself look less like a street urchin.... I thought you'd look better in the manor of a duke." He teased her, his good humour returning. But his voice was still as weak as his body and it was taking more of his strength than it ought to speak. He closed his eyes in pain but then looked back at Ruby.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 10, 2013 1:35:18 GMT -5
He slept soundly against her, each gentle exhale she felt across her collarbones. She cherished each last breath, her mind gently thrummed with each gentle beat of his heart and her soul... settled. She was at utter peace, the likes of which she had never experienced before. Feeling his breaths, even and not the labored, whistle it had been, to feel his heart beating a steady patterned rhythm... it all soothed her, and the beast. Its fury and its demand for vengeance still carved into her soul but it was weaker, easily suppressible. She could have watched him for hours, days, weeks. He was immortal, she had never stressed about his mortality before, but after watching, witnessing... feeling so utterly helpless. Now she feared a great deal. Red had many enemies. They did not know it was her that became the beast, but if they did, they would use Dorian to get to her and she would trade everything, anything, in exchange for his life. She wouldn't think twice. He was in danger just being with her.
She stayed motionless for hours, softly humming and stroking his hair, tracing the line of his cheekbone. She cherished the color in his cheeks, the life in his flesh... she was loathe to move, but she was exhausted and so hungry. Reluctantly she had moved him, propped him up with a few pillows, again being mindful of the wound and had vanished. One of the servants she had become familiar with had tensed but said nothing as she glided past him. He watched her lift one of the apples from the counter top and take a dainty, gentle bite and had smiled, asking what he should bring the master come morning, she had returned, responded with something easy on his stomach but tasteful and had again fled to his side. Fruit in hand. She had eaten half, set the rest on his bedside table and had crawled into bed beside him. She dare not touch him, lest she move him in her slumber, but she curled close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his skin. It did not take her long to fall into a dark sleep.
Wake, my love
Her eyes snapped open, melting to gold instantly defensive, but once they met with onyx pools it faded quickly and she let her body relax. She remained where she was, how long had it been since she had seen life in those eyes. His captive, his slave as always she remained incredibly docile, merely awaiting his command. She could see the pain in his eyes, she had a herb for that she was sure. Her eyes flickered over to the dresser, she had all of the remedies there. Slowly, as to not disturb him, she tried to move, but before she could get anywhere, he was moving, closer to her?
"Stop love. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. You'll make the wound worse." Her words were sleep drowsy but no longer rough. That small bit of food had done wonders for her. She lifted her hand to traced the lines of his face, she traced the shape of his mouth, his cheekbones, the curve of his nose. He was warm! Living flesh and blood and despite herself she smiled. His concern for her was sweet and her smile widened ever so slightly, her eyes flickering to half eaten apple, now sitting upon a metal tray filled with a variety of fruits. Easily she sat up, one of Dorian's white laced shirts hanging from her form, it had smelled like him and since she couldn't curl up against him, this had been the next best thing.
"I did last night. Half of an apple in fact. I will dine with you this morning I think." She moved from the bed with grace unprecedented, trotting over to the dresser and selected two small vials before returning. She handed them too him, grabbed the tray and as gently as she was able, found her spot beside him once again. "One is for the pain, the other is to curb off any infection." It felt wonderful to think clearly, without thoughts of violence or vengeance tainting her.
"What would you like first love?" A variety of small dishes of fruits lay scattered about the tray. She wasn't hungry, she did not feel like eating, but to appease him, she would eat along with him, anything to see his smile, anything to hear his laugh, anything to get him well once more.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 10, 2013 16:09:02 GMT -5
The old Dorian was being stripped away, and the absence of it was making him a bit defenseless, a little more genuine. It was terrifying, though, to see who he was once more; to truly see himself was something he had always avoided because he did not want to mar the image that society had let him keep of himself by hiding from who he really was. And so, why did Ruby stay? He did not understand how it could really be possible for someone to love so much that they forgave all of that. He probably couldn't.
He watched her for a minute before deciding to wake her, decidind he probably needed some help. He was immobile right now, constrained to lay in this same bed that Quincy that occupied the day he had tried to kill Dorian and had been killed himself. Dorian grimaced, his eyes glazing in remembrance of that day and he tried to forget it again. The more he was awake, the better his memory got and the less clurry his surroundings were. It seemed he had been very near death that day, with all the recovery he was feeling, and he did not know that he entirely deserved to be the one alive right now. But he took it, because he had to. The scars would go away; he'd be the picture of perfection once more, and he would never have proof of anything. No one could nail him for anything once he healed. He sighed, and that was when he had chosen to wake up Ruby.
When her eyes first opened, she looked protective, worried, but it quickly subsided and he was glad to see less of a pallor on her face than he had yesterday. She did not look so weak and feeble. He hated to think he was the reason for it all, but he was. Not even his long-practiced narcissism was willing to keep that in and not admit it. There abounded evidence for it aplenty. "But Ruby," he protested, and then she silenced him.
He smiled weakly, not moving anything more than his lips. He would be still, for her if not for himself. To himself he thought he deserved all the wicked torture a body could take, but he would not do it for her. His thoughts of self were... low. For the time being, he was lingering on his past and he knew that there was little good, if any, to be found in it. "And on what will we dine?" he asked through the pain in his abdomen. His voice was naught but a whisper, so weak he felt. This had drained him of color, of strength, of will. He needed to get better, and soon.
He drank the viles; it was not as though he had much choice. She would have made him do it anyway, and plus they should make him feel better than he did right now. Actually, now was a bad time for his emotions. To be the cold, carnal Dorian would be ideal for a time like this, when he did not have to deal with pain of both kinds. He sighed, the breath jagged. "Surprise me," he forced a smile.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 10, 2013 16:44:01 GMT -5
Red had never healed anything or anyone aside from herself and even then she tended to ignore whatever injury befell her, knowing full well she would heal. The flexibility in her muscles, tendons, joints, bones, all of it worked in accordance, the ability to shift had given her body flexibility at a microscopic level. She was wounded and she healed. Wound management, remedies, poultices... she knew nothing of them, she had never required them. She was forced to trust her dear friend to heal her lover, and he full knew the consequences if he offered her something foul.
She took the now empty vials from him and set them on the bedside table. She watched him carefully as he adjusted, she had not meant to stare, but she had missed him, horribly so, even though he had been naught but a scarce few feet away... Dorian had been dying and while she loved his body, she loved the man that lay dormant beneath it so much more and it seemed surreal that he was well enough to look at her, much less speak. She savored every syllable that fell from his lips like water to a starving man.
"Something easy on your stomach, fruit, I think." She answered him finally and chewed the side of her cheek, it wasn't good for him to eat lying down but the position provided the least amount of pain and so she let him be. She took one of the small slices of fruit and lifted it to his lips, a small smile ghosting across her face. "Mango." She murmured softly. She did this multiple times, taking a piece for herself every once in awhile to appease him. She judged the small ticks on his face, gauged which fruits he liked the best and which he didn't care for. She noticed small details like that, always had. When he had polished off a vast majority of the tray, she set it to the side.
"Would you like some tea Dori?" She knew his secret love for the beverage, it was something familiar against the pain and perhaps it would bring him comfort. She lounged beside him lazily her eyes watching his chest rise and fall with each labored breath he took. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't perfect, but he would live. A frown marred her face as her gaze fell upon the bandages, she would need to change the outer layers again today. She was loathe to do so while he was awake. She let her gaze drift back to his eyes.
"I have missed you Dori." The nickname was familiar to her now, something she called him only when they were alone, it was not for public ears. "I... I would touch you, but I don't want to hurt you." She murmured softly. The hand that had previously fed him, lay uselessly between them, her fingers twitching absently, she had wanted to feel his heartbeat, to smell his heart pumping life through his veins, but she was afraid. She was so... violent, and he was so delicate... she didn't want to break him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 10, 2013 17:33:39 GMT -5
Dorian was not particularly happy to be so emotionally concious in such a time. He wanted it to subside until he was better, when he could better appreciate it. Och, but he dare not ask for such. Then he might lose it altogether for another fifty years. He could not have that, no. For a lone time, he had been the man who walked in darkness, who travelled alone and pretended to have a following the size of Jerusalem. But he was not that man. He, in his soul, was too bad for that, was too much a sinner to ever feel anything but affliction. This was why he even questioned the validity of his emotions, because they did not seem quite deep enough for his plight. As bad as he had been, did not he deserve torture from them instead? Dorian sighed again. Questions of the soul never had bothered him, until now.
He was a foul piece of work right now; his body was mangled a bit and he could not do anything for himself which made him a bit wary to his surroundings. His memories weren't exactly pleasant as of recent, anyhow; he had the right to be careful. But Ruby was very good to him nonetheless. No other would have done such things for him. "Sounds delightful," he answered her.
She was careful with him as she fed him, and he enjoyed watching her do so. She was so observant, trying to figure out by his suppressed reactions what he was enjoying and what he was not. It was curious; he was trying to be as obedient as he could and eat anything, but she was still being the tender woman that would care for him for months if she must. This was what was so special about Ruby, and this was precisely why he did not deserve her. Then again, no righteous man would haven a beast. She was not a beast, not really, but... If it was all the same, he would keep her for himself. He was, too, glad to see her eat with him.
Her words piqued his interest, perked his ears. Yes. He was parched; he felt the need for some brandy, really, but he was not going to indulge as it might hurt him more than it would help. Sure, it would numb the physical pain but she needed him to be concious and functioning or she might break down herself. "If you don't mind," he said gently. He did not want to overwork her on his own behalf.
He knew she was watching him, but Dorian did not particularly mind. He was staring up at the ceiling trying to put his mind to anything but Quincy's face, and having a hard time of it. "You've been in my dreams," he lied, trying to reassure her that he was alright. He knew he would heal and there would soon enough be no trace of this incident. He would not tell her of the nightmares, of the pain that was spearing his body right now from his stomach. He would be strong, if just for her. "Go on, then. Do as you wish. I won't break," a hint of a smile broke from his lips.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 10, 2013 18:10:12 GMT -5
She watched him carefully, he was in pain, a great deal if she had any accuracy in her sights at all. The subtle twitches of his muscles, the slight shocks that entered and exited his gaze... it would be a long recovery. Taxing. On both him and her no doubt, but he knew she was at his beck and call. Now that her mind was her own once more she would need to make arrangements with Granny, the Inn would need a few extra hands. Leona could not do everything. Dorian needed her, at least for now, and until he was fully functioning again she would not leave him. It would take Gold to pry her away and even then, she would not leave without a nasty fight. He never needed to know what all she had done to that lad. Quincy, she had learned his name was. They would never find him and even if they did, Snow would protect her, Red wasn't worried. She smiled as he requested a bit of tea and she was moving before she even thought to sit up.
She vanished from the bedroom without a word, trailing through the lonely mansion and to his kitchens, she spoke with one of his servants, discovering his favorite flavor and once they were no longer paying attention to her, she filled a small glass of brandy. She wasn't trying to get him drunk, but a bit of endorphins to help numb the pain, she could see no foul play in such. She came back quickly with both glasses and set both on his bedside table. He had to sit up to drink. That was unavoidable. Looping an arm around his shoulders and the other around his midback, she lifted his torso as gently as she could, lifting his fragile weight with ease. She hesitated only a moment before she slid behind him, maneuvering herself to prop up his weight, much as she had done when he had first awoken.
"It seems you don't have to visit me at the bar to get me to pour you a spot of brandy." She kept her tone light hearted and whimsical. She did not need him worrying for her. She reached for that glass first bringing it to him gently and offering it to him. The tea he would sip, savor the flavors of the different herbs but the brandy... he polished it quickly and she handed him the tea. She wrapped on arm around his shoulder to set her hand against his bare chest, her fingers drumming against his skin in time with his heartbeat. She forced herself to press down some of her worry, to be the carefree temptress that he had indulged in time and time again, it was that woman that he was familiar with, and with his permission given she laughed. A soft, gentle sound that she released into his hair.
"I think, if I did as I wished you would most assuredly break." She teased and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "However, I am content to feel your heartbeat and to have you so close to me. It is divine to watch you breathe." Much more serious, much gentler, she let her heart speak for her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 10, 2013 21:06:03 GMT -5
Dorian was trying his hardest, though it was insanely difficult, to make it look like his head was level and his pain was nonexistant. He was attempting to make it look like he was perfectly fine, completely himself, but perhaps his breaths were giving it away. He hated the way Ruby looked when she was worried--well, no, he hated that she ever had to be. She was not herself and it took away from the gorgeous features of her face; he could not have her looking like that so he tried his best not to. Those emotions in her, coupling with the ones that he was right now trying to contain, were dangerous. This was the one time he didn't want to have all these emotions, because everything was still in his mind. He remembered it all; Sibyl, Harry, Basil. They would not leave him alone. He wished, goddammit, that for once he could have his emotions without remembering his past, his wrongs, his sins! He hated that he was bound by such a thing: that picture once held him away from himself. Now it brought everything back in a rush.
He drew himself out of the thoughts with Ruby's velvet voice. She was gorgeous; she was a gem. And he wished he could say that she was his. Actually, he probably could, as much as she professed her profuse love for him and because twice, he'd already done the same for her. There were times when he was certain that he actually did love her. But then he felt once more unworthy and wished he'd not said it. She had returned, and he'd been so lost in thought that it had never registered that she had left. He forced a smile at her.
She'd brought him--och, she'd read his mind and still she was going to allow it. He shook his head very slightly, the movement almost hurting. "You devil. You know I shouldn't drink but you let me..." He was smiling and teasing, in spite of any pain he felt. She was a great woman, she was. He was not worthy. She climbed into bed with him and propped him up, trying to be gentle but he was groaning the whole time in a resurgeance of pain. No matter how he moved it hurt. And the pain was no longer welcome. He just wanted to get better. But he was glad--very glad--for this second chance to be alive. He downed the brandy, savoring the taste. It would numb the pain, surely. Then he began to sip the tea, which also tasted wonderful. He felt like he'd had no drink for a year.
"I wish you could do as you wanted," he assured her feebly, and she was touching him. He loved it, he wanted more of it, and his muscles were twitching under her hand. Finally they settled and the pain subsided also as he was still. "When it doesn't hurt so bad," he added a bit too bitterly. With a sigh, "How about some more brandy?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 10, 2013 21:42:47 GMT -5
She was trying ever so hard to be good. To play the role of a protector, a healer. She was no good at playing nurse, she couldn't even mend clothes, much less the human body. Utterly useless with a sewing needle and even more so with the concept of gentleness. Her body was soft with generous curves, but nothing about her was gentle. Her personality was outspoken and often course, her skills as a warrior were formidable, even behind closed doors and in the throes of passion she wasn't gentle. She could be utterly vicious and wickedly cruel. She had been crafted for destruction. One solid punch had the potential to shatter bone. It took a great deal of control and focus to be gentle, but she was trying, so very, very hard not to wound him further.
Her other hand stroked his forearm and palm, nails ghosting across his flesh in a barely there touch. Granny used to touch her the same way to calm her down when she wouldn't sleep, she did not mean for the touch to awaken more carnal desires but then again this was Dorian Gray, almost any touch awakened him. She smiled into his hair so that he couldn't see. She never could keep her hands off of him, but that seemed to work both ways, so she continued the gentle drumming of her fingers and the back and forth motion of her other hand, partially for her own selfish reasons.
"Werewolf... not devil. At least get all your demons sorted love." Her voice was light, gentle, filled with hidden laughter, and she rested her cheek against the top of his head as he sipped his tea. It was companionable their silence and she was at peace, he could have asked her for anything and she would do it...the cynical side of her brain quickly quipped that she actually could bring him Quincy's head in a pretty box, but she quickly silenced those thoughts they were too violent for this peace she was feeling... plus there wasn't much left of his head, or the rest of him for that matter. Her fingers tightened reflexively for a beat before they resumed their rhythmic movements. His skin was just as soft and warm as always.
"Since I have taken an indefinite amount of time off from the bar, once you stop hurting, I will be all yours until you are physically ill from my kisses." She laughed into his hair, she couldn't resist teasing him, she never could. His next words made her eyes roll, Her fingers left his chest to catch his chin, turning his head ever so slightly to the left so she could place a kiss upon his temple, before she released him, fingers returning to play about his chest. "Insatiable." Her chastisement was lost in the whimsical note to her voice. "Sit very, very still and I will show you another of my tricks." A gentle growl bubbled up through her throat but she caught the sound in her chest making a soft rumbling sound and then she stopped. One, two, three, heartbeats and the sound of claws ticking across the tiles echoed through the mansion, a moment later a black nose attached to a spotted Dalmatian trotted through the door, a bottle of brandy clasped within its jaws.
"Thank you Pongo. You may return to Jiminy now, I'm fine... send him my love." She took the bottle from the too-smart hound and he barked once before vanishing from the room. She shifted only slightly so she might pour him a second glass away from his bandages lest some get spilled. She almost snorted at her own thoughts. She had been bartending far too long to spill anything. She set the bottle on the nightstand and brought the glass back to him. "I shouldn't be giving you this at all, but I fear I am no good at this whole healing thing... it's a bit beyond my realm of expertise." She paused a moment before smiling. "And before you get jealous... Jiminy is a cricket. A voice of reason to the king and queen, Pongo is his noble steed and oldest friend and yes, I can speak to the dog." It was a talent she did not utilize often but on occasion it proved to come in handy.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 12, 2013 12:00:05 GMT -5
There were times when it was difficult for Dorian to control himself; now was not one of them. He was far too weak for Ruby's touches to do too much to him, and he was able to ignore the calling of his body because of the feebleness of his mind. He was too weak for that now. Although he was made for the pleasures of the flesh, he was also hurting far too much to even venture to those realms. Those were things he would not think about right now, and he was rather weak so it was alright that Ruby was trying to be good to him, trying to be gentle. He would take whatever he could get from her, and if this was it, he'd live with it, take it for as long as he could. He smiled, as much as he was able, because Ruby was doing her absolute best.
For once he actually felt kind of vulnerable in her presence, him with naught but blankets covering him and in so much pain he was weak. Her touches reminded him for a moment how much he really did need her in times like this was. She was a part of him now and it was a hard thing to deny. He needed her. Simple as that.
He smiled a little at her words, glad that they could resume a sustainable amount of humor while he was hurt. He had missed her and her wit, and it was especially wonderful to hear that laugh again, the lilt in her voice. She was his; he could claim her as his own with as much as they'd been through. Of course, he'd never say that right out and likely would never try to make it official. Men like Dorian were simply not meant for that abominable establishment called marriage. He nodded weakly, "I cannot sort my demons, sweetheart. I've too many of my own." He smiled in a bit of a laugh.
The thought pervaded any clear thoughts he may have been having to make Dorian crave the feel of her skin again. He groaned very quietly at the thought and warned her, "Ruby, you cannot say such things. You make me hungry for you as it were. But I await that day anxiously." He was not someone who was wont to be held down, away from the things he desired. That was not the kind of life that Dorian was used to living, and he demanded normally the things he wanted when he wanted them. On the salary of a duke, there were few things he couldn't have.
He watched in wonder as she called a dog, who bounded into the room. What was this? She had all the beasts at her command too? Dorian sighed. This was such a curious happening. The dog indeed had brandy in its mouth, and Dorian was glad for it. Bad though it may be, it would make him feel better. "I don't believe you... On three counts, I am amazed. One, that you can speak to the dog. Two, that you think me the jealous type..." he laughed and began to down the alcohol. "And three, that you would allow me to drink this anymore."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 12, 2013 15:47:36 GMT -5
It was difficult for her, incredibly so, to treat him so delicately. Gentleness was not something she had ever been seasoned with and perhaps Dorian's rough exterior and that dangerous glint in his eyes was what had initially captured her. She was not one for normalcy, sweet and tender words were nice... but only up to a point, her nature demanded passion, violence. If she engaged in combat, it was for death, if she engaged in more carnal pleasures she did it with passion, she would never be a soft mannered woman who merely cooed quietly and laid still. Anything and everything she did was done with power. She was a beautiful woman and she knew it, she could be one hell of a fighter and she was. Nothing was ever done halfway, and even now the wolf cooed soft nothings to her, mentioning's of violence, retribution... revenge. Quincy's death, as gruesome as it had been had not satisfied the beast. It wanted its family, its kin. The wolf wanted his family name erased from history and she was half tempted to allow it... but right now, there was no room for such musings. She was needed here. For whatever purpose he may need. A source of warmth, familiarity, a companion... food, drink, pain medication. Someone needed to be here with him, and Red trusted no one else to watch him... and she highly doubted he would either. Perhaps one of his servants, but with her here he could rest easy, she could protect his portrait, she could protect him.
"Am I your favorite demon then? I do hope if we are picking favorites that I am least near the top." She chortled into his hair, making light of their curse. They were so different and so utterly the same. She brushed the hair from his face, tucking it back behind his ear and bending her torso to rest her chin upon his shoulder, pressing her cheek against his own. Her arm around him tightened only slightly, her palm pressing flat against his chest. His heart beat was much stronger now. Pounding with confidence... she could hear it and it made her smile.
"I suppose for your sake... I shall stop whispering naughty promises. I would hate for more problems to arise." Her chest shook softly in an effort to contain her laughter as she whispered to him. She pressed her nose against his cheek, placing a chaste kiss upon hi flesh. "I only tease you Dori... I do love you." She murmured into his ear before she pulled away, resuming her place on the top of his head. She did not wish to kill him once he decided his injury wasn't worth the torment of her teasing. She knew his fuse, or so it seemed, when it came to her was remarkably short. She barely had to throw out a flirtatious comment before he was upon her... not that she was any better. After the dog had vanished his comments only made her smile, soft laughter spilling from her mouth at his jest.
"One, I cannot speak well to the dog, a few fragmented words at best. Brandy was something I had to teach him, he got quite good at helping me out at the bar... he has been here for a few days, he sensed my tension, came to check up on me... I have quite a few tricks that you have not seen." Her words grew considerably more seductive towards the end and mentally she scolded herself and refocused. He had practically just woken up from a coma, the last thing he needed was to be thinking of her in such ways. Perhaps she still was doing more harm than good, biting her tongue hard enough to bleed she focused.
"You? not the jealous type? Were you not the one who threatened to steal me away from a supposed beloved? You demanded I never be engaged otherwise." Her voice was teasing, gentle, not wishing to upset him... he could not fool her, despite the fact he had told her twice now that he loved her, she forced herself to remember that the painting would steal this portion of him away, and she would return to being among his prized possessions. To the Dorian that stalked these halls most days she was naught much more than a favorite plaything, a pretty trophy that he had taken the time to build a case for, a room in his mansion. This Dorian really was hers no one but she got to see this gentle, soft man beneath. He didn't realize it, but a piece of him, granted, a very small piece of him, would always be hers. She had marked him, weaseled her way into his long forgotten emotions... and he did not seem to mind too terribly much. She pulled herself from her own musings. focusing instead on the man she had sworn her loyalties too.
"I have never been one to follow societies rules... doctors orders included and if the brandy helps your pain fade, I can keep a secret." She smiled now, inhaling the sweet scent of his hair. "I would rather have a drunk Dori than one filled with pain... you do not mind the nickname Dori, do you?" She couldn't remember the first time she had called him as such. It had just...slipped out, and she had never wondered before if it bothered him. He was a duke after all and the pet name was quite silly... now she was curious.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 12, 2013 21:18:23 GMT -5
Dorian was resisting as best as he could, trying not to give in to the carnal pleasures that he felt in Ruby's touches. He knew what those silent promises meant. He knew that it would be so easy for him to give into her, but the pain in his abdomen told him that he could not. It, and the little bit of sense that he retained, were keeping him away. He was not going to risk that today. He was going to keep his life intact and not let his body overrule his mind. Strength. Concentration. Focus. He focused on the sweetness of the touch, how it meant love and not lust, how she was being naught but good to him. He smiled.
It was a wonder that they so easily spoke of their curses. Only to eachother, always to eachother. They were two from the same mold. "Of course," he lingered. "Do you think I could ever love my own?" He smiled a bit more, smirking almost. She toyed with his hair, now longer than it sometimes was, and she placed her hand flatly on his chest. He felt his own pulse through her palm. He felt alive, finally. Her gestures were sweet but he was not made for love like that: he was a creature of passion and deeper lust. He was made for pleasure alone. That was his curse. He was a creature of flesh and flesh only. No heart, no soul. That was all well hidden away and the problem remained always--he could not outrun it or hide from it. But Ruby accepted it. Ruby loved him anyway.
He groaned again, trying to get her to stop this madness before he broke. "Ruby..." he sighed. "Stop it... If I tell you I love you too will you be able to control yourself?" He smiled at her pathetically, looking a bit like a child. He was weak, and she knew it.
"You ought to keep the thing around then. There's no downside to brandy... Most wonderful thing there is in this world..." His words trailed off mysteriously as he teased her. It was not to be said that Dorian Gray could not hold his own in some battle of wit, in a competition of those who knew wordplay. He was versed in books and words and all good things literary. He smiled at her. "I but jest. You are, of course." He was trying to be sentimental, but it was difficult for him, in the midst of such pain.
Dorian took a long drink of the alcohol, letting the brandy work its magic in both his brain and his pain. He rather liked the effects of the numbing liquid, though normally he did not like feeling so numb. This was a different, better sensation. "Perhaps that was a test," he cooed. After a second's silence he could not keep the truth from her. "Though I suppose it's more likely I'm overtly in love with you and hopelessly addicted to hearing you tell me that you love me..." It was all said very sarcastically. She did not have to know that the words rang with some degree of truth. Dorian was good at hiding anything, shielding with his eyes anything he didn't want others to see. It was the very essence of Dorian's person. He was good at disguise, though he always looked the same, and he knew how to lurk in the shadows while still being the most devonaire womanizer in the city. It was his talent, and his curse. "That, and you never had any beloved. I would know it."
He shook his head a little, the hair falling back in his face. "I don't mind it, if that is what you ask. But I do not have a name for you such as that. Feels a touch... uneven." He smirked again. "But I do love this brandy."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 12, 2013 22:18:33 GMT -5
With a bit of reluctance she stopped soothing the flesh on his arm, she slid the appendage beneath his arm to rest lax around his torso, holding him up and against her, taking the weight from his wound. She had not meant for the touch to stir such emotions in him, but she could physically smell his desire and with a great deal of self restraint and control she took any and all focus off of her own personal self, and forced them all to focus on him. If her touch hurt him more than helped him, she would stop. She did have control of the wolf. She could control her more lustful notions too. Her fingers ceased their drumming and besides her gentle breathing, she did not move. She contented herself with the softness of his hair against her cheek, the gentle feel of his lungs drawing in air and expelling it, his warmth pressed against the length of her torso. Her muscles relaxed, and she let him sink into her body. He was safe in her embrace and that calmed her wolf. In its mind, Dorian was the equivalent of a mate.
Red never let its thoughts linger. That was far too dangerous.
"I don't know... that portrait of yours, I fear it threatens to whisk me away from you, to take me for its own. You may have a fight on your hands." Her words were colored in soft laughter, it had about as much chance of wooing her as the wolf did to Dorian. The thought made her frown, humor fading from her. The wolf trusted Dorian and she doubted it would hurt him, but without Ruby's subconscious control, it was naught but a massive beast unleashed. It recognized things sure, but it was unpredictable. Unpredictability was dangerous. It left for too many opportunities. No... Dorian could never truly meet her demon, it was the one thing she could not allow, but she kept such thoughts silent, and held onto her Dorian, while he was still hers.
"That is the third time you have spoken as such." Her words were quiet simple, he was beginning to confuse her. He claimed to have no heart, no soul, no emotions, and yet he had claimed his love for her not once, not twice but three times, granted, she could hear more of a desperation in his tones now... but what did he mean by it? Did he actually love her or did he speak such things because he thought she would leave if he didn't. He usually did not lie to her, not when it came to his own soul, his own emotions. She let out a long breath, realizing she had been silent for quite a length of time, he could not see her, not while her cheek rested against the top of his head and she was almost glad, she wouldn't have to fake a smile for him. "I will behave. Believe it or not, I can act with a bit of class and decorum, would you have me lie you back down?" Despite her own troubled thoughts it was easy to keep her voice light and whimsical with just an air of teasing. She had mastered the art of deception long ago working her bar. She awaited his response patiently, that would mean of course she would need to move, but he had long since finished his tea and the brandy was all but gone. One or two decent swigs left, surprising her, he was speaking again.
"A test? How devious of you, pray tell did I pass? Surely I gained a grade or two by saving your life." For a brief moment, she could taste his blood upon her tongue, feel his flesh beneath her claws, hear his last gurgling choke and then... it was gone. Tonight... while he slumbered, she would hunt. What the prey would be she did not know, and at this point she did not care she needed to release some of the tension in her soul before she hurt Dorian by accident. She focused on his scent, willed it to calm her and fell quiet. That was the fourth time he had mentioned his love for her. Even filled with sarcasm, it was still a request and she could not deny him, she never could. "I was engaged once. I had a beloved. His name was Peter. He was a blacksmiths son. My grandmother forbade him to see me, I never knew why. He would sneak to my window in the dead of night and steal me away. He was my first and he proposed that same night." Peter had been her best and only friend. Adventurous, unafraid bold... they had made a smashing pair. The wolves memories came back to her now, she could remember his final pleas, he had said that he loved her, always would, forever, until the end of time, and that if she killed him he would be ok with it, because he would know it wasn't her, it was a beast that shared her soul. She swallowed hard, guilt and regret causing her eyes to glisten with tears unshed. "I love you Dorian Gray."
His next words were teasing, light hearted, he had not picked up on her sudden bout of sadness and she swallowed it quickly. He was trying to speak with her, to exchange conversation like normal, virtuous people and she was being haunted by the past. She forced it away and swallowed her tears. With practiced grace she responded.
"I fear I should leave you and the brandy alone, I feel a bit like a third wheel here." She laughed into his hair, before shrugging noncommittally. "You may call me anything you like, you much prefer Sweetheart... God only knows why. You've seen how utterly horrible I can be."
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 12, 2013 22:52:12 GMT -5
Ruby finally stopped her touching him, and though he really had loved it he knew that he would be better off without her touching. It stirred things inside of him that were dangerous and he understood that to heal and have her sooner, he would have to get better first. He had to make sure his body was strong again and his pained abdomen was no longer troubling him--just as he knew she loved. Yes, Dorian knew her attatchment to his body. He knew that it was part of the reason, if not most, that she had stayed around so long. And though there had been others who had idolized him for his physique as well, they never held his attentions like she did; they were never worth his time. And should any of them have found his secret, they would have run screaming like children. Ruby didn't. Ruby had been with him and promised not to leave him. He didn't believe it sometimes.
Och. She was such a different kind of person. He knew that. She had now relaxed and he had fallen into her, his weak body not able to support itself for long yet. He was glad she was here, though. He may not let his emotions show as much as she would like it, but he did think that maybe he loved her and he wished that the damned portrait would stop taking in all of the things that he wanted to keep with him. His soul. It was a monster. "It better not, what with all the other things it takes from me. It's not taking you." He smiled but knew that she still couldn't see his face. Oh well.
She seemed a tad uneasy but Dorian did not worry about asking her, because he knew that she was guarding her feelings like he guarded his own. Then her next words made him swallow. He did not understand. She was counting? What, did she think... Yes. In his real form, Dorian always told her how little he possessed in the way of a heart and emotions. This must be a burden for her, to have to figure out when he meant what he said and when he did not. He could not try to explain it. This simply wasn't something that he could explain. He just sighed, and then answered her next words, not wanting to add to the count he didn't know she'd been keeping. "No, no. I can control myself if you can control yourself. I am too feeble for such acts as you would have me do." He did not grin this time. He was just serious.
Her next words made him lean his head back to meet her eyes, his neck arched like a fine swan as he looked upside-down at her pretty face. "I believe so. You've earned your place among my stars, I think," he said gently, lifting a hand to stroke her hair. No, no. He needed to not touch her, either, lest it make him feel the urge to take her.
She told him a story. She proved him wrong. And as much as he did not like that, he had to admit that it was a compelling tale, and that he did not want to be stuck in the same position. Was loving her dangerous? Yes, surely. But so was loving him, so they were even. With a breath, looking back down to his sheets, Dorian answered softly, "I suppose that's romantic. I never thought you'd have such a story... no good reason why, I guess..." He felt a little wanting at those words, though, because he didn't like it when she spoke about other men. He was possessive. He'd told her that. And it was good for him to hear this, but... He hated it. Her words of love did not help his mind. "I... I don't know." He was too afraid to say it again. Dare she count.
He shook his head at her. No, no. He loved brandy but it was no comparison to the sun that sat behind him now. "Never leave me alone with alcohol, you moron..." he laughed, making sure she knew he was teasing her. He wanted her to know what he felt for her but he was so torn on the subject. "Ah, yes. Sweetheart. I cannot promise that you're the only one I call that, though... As much as that might break your precious heart. You need a name from me, you do." And the word that kept ringing in his head was wife but he would never, never, never say that. He was not going to ruin her life like that.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 13, 2013 0:17:47 GMT -5
When left to her own devices, Red often lapsed into less than stellar memories. Red, herself, was a good person. She helped people, aided them to the best of her ability, but her curse had caused her so much trouble, her past was stained red with blood from the death she had caused. Quincy, Dorian's lover had been not but a drop to the pool she had accumulated. She did not tell Dorian of wars she had been in or battles she had been a victorious for. She did not tell him, she had the strength in one hand to smash in someone's skull, he knew very little of her history. He knew of the worst evils done to her, but not the worst of evils she had caused. Peter had been the start of a downward spiral. Those wronged came to her, she had the strength and the power to exact revenge and there had been a time when money was hard to come by, and she had been protecting the most wanted fugitive in the world... of course now Snow White was anything but such a criminal but back then... things had been so utterly different. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't perfect but she still stood here today and so did Snow. Her regret was not overbearing.
"I will do my absolute best to fight its sirens call." She drawled softly. Her arms lay limp around him, holding him only tight enough so he did not fall. His abdominal muscles wouldn't be working quite right yet, and this was the very least she could touch him and still prop him up, she hoped, at least, that it brought him some salvation. If he wished for one of his staff to help him she would understand, she wouldn't like it but she would understand. The majority of his staff were older, probably purposefully so as to not tempt him, and then she smiled at the sudden possession in his tone as he spoke of the portrait. "You needn't worry. I fear you are stuck with me until you grow tired of my presence." She wished to touch him, play with his hair, his fingers... she just liked touching him, but she willed her comatose muscles not to move, not to disturb his peace. She smiled a bit as he answered her, she had not meant to speak her counts out loud, but from someone who claimed to be heartless, it tended to make an impact when such things fled his mouth, she really should learn to keep her musings to herself.
"Relax Dorian, I am not here to tempt you, you have my word. I am here only to see you well again. Anything you desire, it shall be yours, you need only ask." She murmured ever so softly too him, it was true. Food, water, trinkets, books... he need only ask her. She smiled a bit to herself shaking her head slightly. "Even if you wish to lay, I promise I will not go far, I did not save your life only to leave you unprotected. Haven't I told you? Having a werewolf at ones disposable is, on occasion, a fairly handy thing to have. I dare anyone who intends to harm you to step through that door." Her words were lazy, spoken in a soft mumble, it was meant to make him smile, nothing more. For now she was not violent and she had no desire to move. But his hair was moving beneath her and she pulled her head up only to be starring at eyes of ebony that made her breath catch in her throat.
His words brought forth the smile she had dubbed as his, gentle and soft, just a barely there curl of her mouth, but her eyes were flooded with the love she felt for him. His fingers reached for her hair, tangling with the brown curls and she willed her body not to move. It obeyed. She had control. She let him determine touches and if he was content touching her she would endure it. She could lust for him all she wanted, he couldn't smell it on her. He had no idea how appealing his scent mixed with lust was. It was a potent aphrodisiac, and she was helpless too it, her own desire had no scent, at least to her. So she enjoyed the touch on her hair and let him play with her as he would.
"I suppose I let you run with me, tis only fair I get to fly with you." She paused a beat then worrying her bottom lip ever so slightly. "I can procure more fairy dust should you ever wish to run again... I do believe I still owe you a vacation, although I am not sure you will be healed in time for this month's moon." She was disappointed, she did not know how much longer she could keep it a secret, a gentle smile drifted across her mouth. "If you are not, I will tell you legend and the following month I will take you there," Not even the oldest of mates... Stop Red. Do not let the wolf poison your thoughts. It will never happen. got to visit this place, but she wanted him to see it so badly, if they found out what she had done, what she was risking, they would punish her, hunt her down, but it was worth it, because he would love it, she was sure.
Her laughter was dark, as the word romantic left his mouth. She shook her head, curls falling absently about his shoulders as she denied the statement. "Not romantic. The wolf... he was too weak, too soft in its eyes, he was not worthy. It devoured him. He was the one it ripped to pieces." She did not like thinking or speaking of Peter, but he had told her of the long lost Sibyl and he deserved her own story. "That was the first time I was told that I was the wolf. That was before I had any semblance of control." It was difficult to speak of and she yearned for a topic change, she didn't like thinking of how monstrous she could be... she had been.
His next words, however, quickly flipped her mood, his playful insult flooding her eyes with grave amusement and shock, laughter escaped her without conscious thought. "Did you just call me a moron? The one whose defying doctors orders by giving you brandy? The one whose watching over your wounded hide? The one who speaks 'I love you Dorian Gray' just because you command it? How hurtful! You wound my heart!" Her words were lost to the laughter that spilled from her mouth. It was so entirely unexpected, usually Dorian's insults were cleverly worded, half the time it took you several minutes to understand it was an insult and that had been so utterly brash... she could not help but laugh. She smiled down at him, almost willing him to tilt his head back up to see her. "Sweetheart is too normal anyway, I am anything but normal I'm afraid, you have always been clever, I am sure you will dream up something fitting."
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 13, 2013 22:51:01 GMT -5
Dorian seldom did anything for other people. He was a born and crafted narcissist, made for pleasure and pleasure alone, and it was a road that he had long walked with others underfoot, himself only in his view. For as long as Dorian had known he had been self-centered, the world revolved around him, the stars told good for him and no others. He was, in his own mind, perfect. That was what had been so long engrained in him. And now, experiencing the onset of emotions and of real feeling, Dorian was thinking differently, wondering why his perception had been so long biased. No, it wouldn't change, and he only had moments of humanity, but the real truth was that he had them.
Ruby sparked things in him that Dorian did not think he'd have known otherwise. Well. Actually, he knew. She inspired numerous things to stir inside him, to make him feel ever so slightly like he was capable of loving. He had said it, yes, and she had been counting... it had discouraged him. Her teasing drew Dorian from his thoughts, though, and he answered in equally hushed tones, "'Tis a siren indeed. No other would draw you in only to kill you later." He offered up a pathetic smile and almost hoped she'd not seen.
"But as I have already said, I am possessive of you and would not dare give you up." He craned his neck back again, hoping for her to run her fingers through his hair at least. He regretted ever asking her to stop her touches, for though they lit fires in his core he missed them when they were gone. His body was too weak anyhow. He could not handle the passionate and otherwise gruelingly physical act of sex in the state he was in right now. "To see me well... Well, rather would I have you back but in such a wretched state as I usually find myself, in one humour or another... Oh, mind me not. Keep your hands in my hair." He smiled at her, this time keeping his head back for good. "Nay. There's no one more in this world hates me as... well, as Quincy. I'll be safe, I think."
Her face was so pretty as it was now, so natural and so fair. He smiled again. "You're a temptress, you are." He said no more. He was not certain that in this state of mind he was good enough to think clearly, to make decisions like that. Hell. These two had all the time in the world, and especially him. Why worry? "I'm not that slow to heal, sweetheart. I am immortal to some extent, do not you forget." He did not want her to worry. That, and he was absolutely curious to see what this would bring.
He raised an eyebrow at her, though it was upside-down to her vision. Weak? Oh, well, he was weak now but the beast wasn't attacking him... "Is this all to say that your wolf is contented with me? Likes me, dare I ask?" He grinned. He did not know much about her wolf, actually, and it was a curious thing to wonder about. The beast was not of his kind, was of a species he was unfamiliar with. But he wondered all the same. "I praise your control now, though."
And then, he'd done it. Dorian had successfully stumped Ruby. She must have been used to his natural eloquence, to the way words rattled from his tongue and poured out normally. But no. Sometimes he was blunt, too, and dull humour had it charms. He laughed, hurting his aching abdomen but the brandy had helped. She was a wonder. She in all her charm and cunning and loveliness. Dorian wondered sometimes why he'd been put at odds with such a woman as she was. "I could not wound you, Ruby. Lest I had wounded you when I... oh, I don't know, practically raped you? When I rejected you, took others...? No love. Not I." He smiled innocently at her. He thought for a moment but nothing was coming to him. "Soon, you'll have a pet name. Give me a day or so."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 14, 2013 17:02:00 GMT -5
The silence between their soft spoken words and gentle teasing was comfortable, relaxing. He trusted her, at least to a point, his weak body had caved into her own, giving her his weight. It was next to nothing to her, her strength was so great... she had lifted him from the snow with ease. In fact, she hadn't really even thought about it, of course, it had taken her a long while to recall what she had done that night. When violence overcame her, anyone in her way was in danger, it was... nothing short of amazing that she had not hurt Dorian. Her control was a finicky thing, it mattered little who or what she cared about if rage overtook her, very little had a chance of bringing her back. She could remember his screams as she ripped one of his appendages from him, and she could remember the transformation, but after that everything was foggy. She had seen the aftermath of what she was done, and she remembered carting Dorian away, but the days she had spent in his chamber were a blur. A fog that could not be lifted, it was like watching your life through the eyes of some disembodied ghost. She did not regret the pain she had brought to Quincy. Nobody messed with the loved ones of a werewolf... nobody.
"I doubt it would have much of a chance against my demon, it seems a bit brittle for the claws of a werewolf." She wondered how he was able to make such light of his curse, to steal away his thoughts, memories, emotions... it seemed so utterly vile when compared to her own... but then again she had lived with the wolf forever. It was a part of her, familiar. From the outside she supposed it was very uncouth and quite horrifying, but she had lived with it forever... perhaps the same was true for Dorian. "You need not worry, I have rather contented myself in your presence. In case you have forgotten, I rather like you Dorian Gray." She drawled lazily. He she wouldn't leave him, it would take much more than a temptation to steal her away, if werewolves had no good traits save one, loyalty was that shining beacon. A circle of allies was small but protected quite fiercely. Answering her unspoken request he craned his head back to gaze upon her and she was lost within his eyes, a gentle smile on her mouth.
"You miss me." She teased with a soft laugh. One arm remained solidly around his waist while the other delved into inky black locks, playing with the long strands and massaging his scalp. Her movements were slow, gentle, she savored the feel of his hair against her fingers, hoped it brought him the same state of peace it brought her. "I tell you to ask me of anything and you request that I play with your hair? Pray tell, where has my duke gone?" She tilted her head to the side slightly, mischievous reflections glittering in her eyes. She wondered if she was the only one to see him so light-hearted, so gentle, so vulnerable. Dorian was none of these things most of the time. He was strong, fiercely independent, devious and lethal in his own way, and utterly confident. While she loved that cocky confidence, she also loved this side of him, and even if it wasn't true, it was nice to think that she was special that this small side of him, he only let her see. "There are people in your world who hate you?" She shook her head, she wouldn't pry. "Even if there are you need not fear. I took care of Quincy for you, a few more cannot be so tough." She winked at him, grinning playfully.
"I never considered myself one until I met you. In fact I tended to push people away. Everything about you intrigues me. I miss your laughter, the low drawl in your voice, the way your eyes glow when you think of something pleasant, the tiny crease in your forehead when you are thinking, I am...hopelessly addicted to you." A teasing smile and she caught her bottom lip with her teeth. "You have ruined me for anyone else I think. As long as I remain your temptress... I don't think I shall mind too terribly much. His jest about his own mortality made her smile falter ever so slightly. One day she would grow old... granted she aged slower, and the more often she shifted the longer it took, but she still aged. Would he still remember her once she was dead? Or would the painting steal that from him too?
"It is not an easy journey, full of mountains, bitter ice, raging storms... it is difficult for me to navigate, even as the wolf, I will not risk your safety nor your health to show you a pretty place. I will not take you until you are fully healed. You are too important to me." She toyed with the strands of his hair absently now, winding them around her fingers, tugging them softly as she carded her hands through. She was still tired, but not as exhausted as she once was. She was content with him awake and speaking. She paused only briefly as he asked about her wolf. He had never asked her about her beast side before. Everything he knew she had given him freely. There were some things that she had kept hidden away on purpose. When he had delved into her mind, Red's was the only mind he had seen, the wolf had lay dormant still free from Dorian's mind, she had done as such intentionally.
"It is complicated. The wolf, she runs on an entirely different social structure. Emotion does not play a heavy roll in its life. Power and dominance rule her, granted. their are those she respects enough not to harm, but shes not against attacking someone to improve her own stature... its all very complex, I hardly understand it myself. She finds you a mystery. The darkness of your curse, she senses it, but doesn't understand it, it draws her in like a moth to a flame. She likes the strength of your independence, but what she would do, if ever given the chance to actually meet you... I know not. More than likely, he would be in for the wildest sex of his life, or he would be fighting for his life. Either way, Dorian would be hurt, wolves were vicious even during mating, even with such an act it was still about domination, cracked bones, fractures, puncture wounds... they were commonplace among the wolves and while Red liked her play, she preferred not to have anything broken during such an act, that seemed to tip the scale to far on the pain side, she shook herself from her thoughts, Dorian was speaking. His dark comments, she only laughed, giving his hair just a barely there tug.
"Haven't I told you that I heal quickly? It's very uncanny, perhaps one of these days I will prove it to you... of course, hopefully it won't be trolls that cause such damage... nasty buggers is what they are." She chuckled lightly, she had been careless, her almost death was her own damn fault. "I eagerly await my new name, I cannot wait to hear what your mind drums up."
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 16, 2013 21:06:15 GMT -5
Trust had long been a foreign thing to Dorian's narcissistic self. It wasn't something that his personality or his curse easily was lent to, but he was slowly beginning to understand what it meant to trust another. To give them who you were and expect that they do not mind, that they keep it entirely intact. It was no easy task, and to Dorian it was especially difficult, because whenever he learned what it meant to trust Ruby, his portrait drew it all back in, took it all away from him. He might consider himself Tantalus for all that was cast upon him. This curse was Hell. He waited often in purgatory for the moment it would simply claim him, devour him. Because that was exactly what Dorian expected it would do. Expect the unexpected, as they said? No. He knew what fate wanted to bring him and he fought it every day. He was immortal.
And that was both a fearful thought and a comforting one. When himself, it was comforting. Very little could cause his demise, but by the same token, it was generally a question of who when it came to his death. The likelihood was, someone else would end up taking his life--much like Quincy had intended to do. But then there were times when he was feeling philosophical, profound, and it was in those times when he felt the real chill of mortality. He could die, still. Did he trust Ruby with his life? ....He did.
"I fear," he said, "That my poor demon is old and aged beyond his prime, and that he ought not get out too much lest he catch cold." He smiled a little, making light of his curse as best as he was able. It wasn't like he could do anything about it, anyhow. "Just be glad, darling, that you do not have to deal with that horrid thing at all hours. Sometimes you get me instead..." He laughed lightly. Sometimes he was this good and light man who she could really love, but usually he was a vile thing himself, all haughty and centered about the axis of, well, himself. "I rather like you, too, Miss Ruby." He grinned, thinking about how odd they would seem to anyone outside of themselves. They were both cursed and they were both fairly disagreeable people to the general public, and together they must have lent themselves to a very strange image. But he did not mind.
"I always miss you when you're not with me," he said sentimentally. He was never so terribly sappy with her! He nearly growled to himself out of spite but then answered her as he arched his neck to look up at her. "You did say anything. And I cannot have you like I'd want right now... Sex does not suit the fallen... So I must resort to letting you delve into my hair." He grinned rather wickedly. The normal Dorian was slipping back now, the picture was causing him to be stirred by the familiar sense of lust. Och. No, but he couldn't! He still hurt something terrible. He fought the demon for control of his mind, and after a few minutes he had won, much to his surprise. "Your duke is right here, sweetheart. Always. And yes, lovely, there are many who would see me put to death if they had their say. But don't you bother."
He smiled at her, stroked her jawbone with the side of his finger. She was certainly his now, she'd said it and he wouldn't have it any other way, as possessive of her as he was. She seemed a bit lost in thought, and to break it, he said, "You my temptress and I your... your what? What should I be to you?" He grinned at her and continued, suddenly knowing, "That's it! I shall call you Eris because you shall always be my tempting chaotic mistress. You shall control the chaos of my life." He was happy; he'd found her a name.
He almost wanted to meet the thing as it was, without Ruby's influence, but it was also a soberingly scary thought. To be alone with another beast that had the ability to dominate and destroy. To be in the presence of something so powerful that it could rip you to shreds... it was terrifying, actually. But Dorian loved Ruby. And so he would love her beast too, warily though he might. He nodded slightly. "I want to get better so that all of this might be possible. I want to take this journey; I want to meet this wolf. But I should not stir you with my curiosities or my desires lest you want them..." He was rambling, so he shut his lips. "Kiss me," he demanded suddenly of her, on impulse.
"We both heal quickly; mine simply doesn't show. Kind of like my heart."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 16, 2013 23:12:55 GMT -5
Time, would never be on her side, it was forever ruining her good fortune. The full moon came at the most inconvenient of times, ripping her away from family and friends when they had needed her most. It had locked her in time, had stolen her memories, it had allowed Regina to curse them all, damn them, and now... eventually, it would steal Dorian away from her. She had never given much thought before to growing old. She had always surmised that some skilled hunter would kill her long before then, she thought she would die saving Snow's life or fighting for Aledon. She didn't want to die, but she wasn't afraid of it either. She had no family and few friends. She was replaceable, forgettable. She had made herself that way, sure a scarce few would mourn her but they would move on. She was expendable and she supposed she still was, but now... now she wanted to live, she wanted to stay with Dorian as long as he would have her. He was her purpose, someone to protect, to love, to cherish, even if she wasn't all of those things to him, she still loved him, with every languid beat of her heart. She wanted more time with him, but time had never been on her side.
She laughed at his gentle jest her voice coloring the air as her fingers threaded through his locks, she was so utterly jealous of how soft his hair was, it just wasn't fair. She lowered her head and dropped a chaste kiss on his hair line. Her own locks falling about his shoulders. God did she love him. She hummed into his skin as he offered himself up over the portrait, a smile ghosting across her face and she closed her eyes. "If it were up to me, I would have you all the time but alas, I fear I must learn to share." She did not think of how the general populace might perceive them, probably incredibly scandalous, but then again they had never been seen out and about Aledon together, most of the time they had spent... well in an entirely different set of activities. Great, lust-filled, mind-blowing- Stop... focus. Perhaps one of these days she could get him to go dancing with her, she did like a good dance...hmm.
"Miss me? Oh my love... I thought we had at least moved past the lies, you just miss me underneath you, perhaps a top you, against the wall, in that back ally, on the dinner table, oh and we absolutely can't forget the bathtub. That was a great deal of fun!" She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to silence her laughter, and before he could grown or chastise her for tempting him, she shook her head lightly. "Yes, yes I know you are injured and cannot have my body. I am a dreadful woman for teasing you so. Perhaps I should stop speaking all together!" She knew Dorian responded a great deal better to teasing words and laughter than he ever would to real sentiment and emotion, perhaps when his mind was his own and the portrait had no influence deep and real conversations were preferable, but once they began, the claws of his demons only seemed to work that much harder to drag him away. That day in his study, the more serious their conversation had grown the harder that thing had tried to steal him.
"As odd as it sounds, I am slightly glad that you are cursed. You never would have looked at me twice if you weren't and I never would have got to know you, to love you." Much softer, much quieter. She winced a bit as she thought over those words, as true as they were they were horribly selfish. "I apologize, I didn't mean for that to sound so self-centered." She muttered, slightly embarrassed. He never should have been cursed, then he could have been married to some gorgeous woman who owned a sizeable portion of land, they could have kids, a dog... the perfect life. He deserved that life, that life had been his birthright, instead he was stuck with a lowly tavern wench. She wasn't blonde, she didn't have blue eyes, she was nowhere near perfect, he deserved better than her. Despite herself her lips curled up at his next words.
"My duke doesn't have much of a choice, he is quite wounded and can't even sit up on his own. Not that I'm complaining, I get to have him all too my lonesome until he heals, and then I fear it will be my turn to be bedridden for a few days." She smirked down at him, she was on a roll! She knew his wit was a match for hers, it was one of the things that made this game so fun to play. It was the one thing her days as a tavern wench had granted her, she had a sharp tongue. Her eyes turned quickly serious as he mentioned these phantoms wishing him harm. "I swear to you, that as long as I live and breathe another one of these incidents will not happen to you Dorian. You have my word."
Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into his fingers as they stroked her jaw line, he could touch her anywhere, fingers, toes, eyes. His attention was a precious and fleeting thing and no matter what part of her caught it, she embraced it. He did not realize how terribly important he had become in her life. He was everything. She smiled at his acceptance of her being his. He had come to terms with such a fact to the point of making light of it. That made her smile. Her nickname had her head tilting to the side in curiosity until he explained its origins. "Eris..." She echoed it back to him, tongue testing out the syllables carefully. "You are fishing again, my love, just waiting for me to bathe you in words of fancy. Tell you how much I love you. You know exactly what you are to me. Aside from the man I love, the man I would give my life for... you are my own... dark-haired Adonis I think."
"You will make the journey but I fear for you, meeting the wolf. It would kill me Dori, it would kill me if she hurt you. I hope you never have to meet her, she is a vile deplorable thing, please, do not silence yourself, speak your mind, curiosities, desires, whatever else you think of. You are safe here. You are safe with me." Came the gentle response. His command froze her, green eyes widened considerably and her hand stopped in mid stroke in his hair. A slight tremble rippled through her body and fear flickered through her eyes. Her hand left his hair to trace the hard lines of his face. "I do not wish to hurt you my love." She was so entirely not gentle, but he had spoken, such an easy command... she could do this. She could.
She lowered her head slowly, she could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across her mouth, but he was trusting her, trusting her not to break him, not to do anything impulsive and she could control herself because she loved him. She pressed her lips to his upside down, catching his bottom lip between her own. Her heart beat like a hummingbird within her chest, she poured her love for him into the gesture, attempting to express without words just how much she loved him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 19, 2013 20:24:19 GMT -5
Dorian felt smug, but he felt at home too. It had been a long time since he'd ever felt like he belonged somewhere, and this was beginning to feel like that place. Was it meant to be that he should end up here, with Ruby as he was? Was this supposed to be how it played out, or was he now just begging for a distraction from that portrait so much that he was grateful for any way out? Dorian could not tell. He did have so much reason to ignore and forget that painting, but it was probably not best to avoid it altogether--the thing was vengeful. But he was glad nonetheless that he did have Ruby, that she could be his hold and stay and maybe even enough for him to call home. He sighed. She kissed him gently, her fingers still in his hair. Ruby was a wonderful distraction, it was true. "If it were up to me, I'd not have the damned thing in the first place."
Of course, it had been up to him once. And he'd ignored things, been terribly naive. He was still that naive most of the time. Right now, his mind was aflame. But normally.... Och, thought Dorian, he hated himself half the time. Ruby was around him right now, making him as comfortable as she was able. He could practically feel her love and devotion. Though the feeling was somewhat reciprocated on his behalf, he did not feel quite the passion she did. All his emotions were diluted. He was about to respond in surprise to her, what with her knowing he could not have his way with her, but she kept on and he just shook his head.
"Perhaps you ought," he said chastisingly, but then recanted. "Though I do like it. I miss your skin, I will not lie, but we've established already that I am not exactly in the shape to want you in that manner. Calm thyself, my Ruby." He smiled a bit, still enjoying the wonderful feeling of her fingers on his scalp. She was a wonder indeed. He heaved a sigh, beginning to feel the sobering, philosophical feelings leaving him. Och, not now! But he could not do much to fight it. He was bitterly weak right now, and that picture would take him.
Out came the narcissist, in pieces. He tried still to be coherently intelligent, feeling, worthy. "This curse. It's more than you take it to be. The... thing... in that painting is a dreadful, awful creature that will take me from you when it pleases. As it's doing now." He sighed in frustration, wanting those feelings back, at least while he was so vulnerable otherwise. Used to--not long ago, actually--he had hated emotions, hid from them... but Ruby was beginning to change him in that way.
His wicked smile graced his face then, his hedonistic side being tempted sorely by her words and his wit flattered. "Your wordplay is excellent, my Eris. I've no doubt it will be so." He grinned at her, his eyes sparked a bit. But he practised restraint. He bit his tongue and did whatever he could to keep those better parts of him intact, mentally. He hated to leave her--for his heart to--but the hedonist was on its way back to the top. He looked her in the eyes as a method of stabilising himself, and smiled more softly, his face not so tense. "I believe you, I do. I will protect you also in whatever way I might, whether by fortune or station. I am... possessive." He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in everything around him without his vision. The smell, feel, sounds. He liked to feel the sense's sides of things, to do more than just see... and with Ruby so close and so warm it was a nice time to do it.
He laughed softly, continuing to stroke her face with the softest parts of his fingers. "Of course I am. What narcissist does not want to hear such finery in such a beautiful voice?" He joked a little, but knew that it was partially true. Adonis? Ha. More of Narcissus. But he liked it as it were, and was glad for her knowledge of classicism, of those wonderful Greeks. "I love the sound of that. I shall too be your Apollo." He smiled. And then the wolf... he did not wish to think much more on it. It was pulling him from himself, and he could feel his abdomen hurting again. "As you see it fit, Ruby Red."
Her eyes flashed with something... almost afraid of him? Och, no, she needn't be. He laughed a little. "You cannot hurt me, Ruby. I'm heartless." He smiled but then her lips touched to his, their faces upside-down, and a warmth spread through his core. He savored her, not having had her in far too long, but then he reminded himself to calm, to not get caught up. He focused on her love. Not on her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ruby on Feb 21, 2013 14:43:10 GMT -5
She wondered how it would truly take for him to heal. Yes, he was an immortal, but if he could be killed by a single stab wound, he obviously possessed no other worldly prowess aside from his never aging flesh. He was immortal but not in the full sense of the word. He could be killed, quite easily in fact. She could kill him, any ordinary idiots with a sword could end his life in a snap decision. Her grip tightened on him. Her eyes slipped shut and her nose dug into his hair. That thought terrified her. Before she had merely assumed he could not be killed. Immortality meant never dying but this simple wound had come so very close to killing him, and whether it was her own saliva that she had given him or Dr. Whale's quick response to her call that had ultimately saved his life, she knew not... and did it matter? He had almost died, she had almost lost him to a jealous boy no less, a threat that wouldn't so much as surmise as a blip on her radar. Who else longed for Dorian's death? Who else wished to see him rot? Red could not always linger in his sights. He couldn't deal with her like that and neither could she. They were both remarkably independent people and they both still needed that, but Red feared for him, but what could she do?
"I wonder if there is a way to return your soul to its original state. We have magic here that turn peasants to princes, ugliness into beauty, hatred into love... perhaps there is a way to purify your soul without harming you." She mused more to herself, her brain already whirling. She shut her eyes tightly, instantly thinking of the big three. Regina, Cora, and Rumple. All three were monstrous people. Evil, bitterness and hatred fueled them, but perhaps she could get through to Regina? After all the woman did have a great deal of love for her adopted son, she had learned to love again. She chewed on her cheek, thinking it over carefully. Regina was the most powerful sorceress in Aledon, if anyone could return his soul to him it would be her. Perhaps she could even convince the woman to procure some kind of protection for him. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she gazed down at her lover. She knew what the price for all of that would be. Her heart. Regina would more than likely jump at the chance to own Red's heart in a box somewhere, she would be at the once Evil Queen's every beck and call, anything and everything she wanted... would that be worth such a price for Dorian's peace?
She wouldn't even hesitate.
"I shall do my very best to silence my devious thoughts from you. Consider my lips sealed." It had a hidden double meaning that he would not know. Even if she spoke with Regina, there would be no evidence of her missing organ, she wouldn't die, she wouldn't lose her memories or her personality, her heart would simply be kept elsewhere, he wouldn't be able to feel it beating against her chest, but Dorian didn't notice details like that, he would never know. He wasn't stupid, he would know she had something to do with it, no one else even knew about the damned thing, but she would never have to tell him. He struggled to speak of his curse, successfully snapping her from her musings and she frowned as she gazed down upon him, her eyes reflecting the distress he felt.
"I am so sorry my Dori. I would do something if I could, but I fear I cannot protect you from yourself." She squeezed him just a hair tighter, just enough for him to feel, reminding him... and that damnable portrait that she still lingered at his side, that this Dorian, for however long he remained was all hers and no curse could take that from her. She did not respond to his compliment of her wordplay or her new nickname, she was beginning to understand that any mention of pleasures no matter what realm, tempted the portrait and if she wished to give him the peace he needed right now, she needed to be good, and so with much restraint, she bit her tongue and kept her mouth together. He was healing, he didn't need cocky arrogance that demanded he move. It would only take longer for him to get better.
"Unknown to most, I do love history. I am not so illiterate as one might think." It was rare for a woman of this age to learn to read, or t study much of anything really, but then again, Red was rather rare herself. There were not many woman who could compare to her, she was outspoken, wild, a bit crazed, never shy, and willing to throw a punch, and on several occasion, hid all of her charming nature to attend one of Snow's banquets, she could pretend to be the perfect picture of a lady. Norse mythology is my favorite, but Adonis sounds so much more eloquent than Balder." She smiled, bemused. No... Balder simply did not fit her Dori.
All thoughts of mythology fled her, as she kissed him, answering his request with as much gentleness as she could muster. He returned the power of her gentle kiss in kind an she was lost. She savored every last detail about him. His scent, his warmth, his taste, his fingers against her cheeks, his lips against her own... he won her with little more than a touch, and only when she was utterly deprived of oxygen did she pull away from his mouth, but only far enough to chance upon his eyes.
"I love you Dorian... you know that yes?" She was teasing him, but her face held the utter truth of that statement.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dorian Gray on Feb 22, 2013 23:31:34 GMT -5
There had so far been multiple occasions on which Dorian had been so weak of the spirit that he was of the mind to ask Ruby to marry him. He thought of it in his moments of vulnerability, in those times when the man underneath the monster was far more exposed than was healthy for him. To a degree, he had to be the cursed Dorian. He could not live with the true person that he was anymore, because it was too terrible and he was too held up by his cursed soul. By the eternity of youth that plagued him. It was an awful thing but also the only thing that was keeping him whole and sane.
But her words caused him to furrow his brow, in both contempt and concern. Change him? No, he shouldn't be changed. While, yes, sometimes he wished it, Dorian knew that the worst thing he could do was change or fix his curse. He simply wouldn't survive. "No, no, Ruby. Do not think of getting any magic involved or trying to fix me. I'm not broken enough for that. I am fine." He looked at her pointedly but he knew how stubbornly independent she was. Nothing seemed to be able to stop this wren, this woman that had fixed herself upon his life and plight. Why did she care so much? He was nothing. He was a duke, maybe, but money did not seem to be her motivation. She was here for him. She loved him. But why? Why in Hell should she love him? He could not wrap his mind around such things. It was marvelous but at the same time it was constraining, horrible.
He smiled slyly at her, though, through narrowed eyes that were a bit glazed with pleasure. The Dorian under the surface was being subdued and the one that experienced naught but pleasing things was revealing himself. He was fighting it ever so slightly, trying to pull himself back to reality. But he was losing, and he kept speaking soberly but every minute was reverting to that curse of his. That damned painting ruled his life. Sucked in all of him. Unmade the real Dorian beneath all the falsities. It was Hell. "And consider me mute."
Dorian chuckled. No. There was no being saved from oneself. He had lived with that picture for forty or fifty years now. He was used to his demon, almost contented with it. "You've saved me from a lot else, I must admit. Not only from Quincy, but from... well, sometimes from alcohol. Opium altogether. And perhaps infidelity, if only to a certain extent." At least he thought twice now before sleeping with another... and in those times he felt pangs of guilt to follow. Should he not know better, he would have deemed it sorcery.
He smiled at her, stroking her face and feeling a longing in his body that he was trying to overcome. "History is a wonderful prophet to the future, you know." He loved it himself, and especially the classics of the Greeks and the Romans. Mythology stirred him. The tales of grandeur and impossible happenings were like gold in his eyes, those things that every other story was based off of. He knew religion and thought sometimes in its philosophies. But Dorian would go to Hell in any religion, so it did not matter. He could believe nothing. He was stuck already in what he considered a purgatory of sorts. Why try to be good now? Well... for Ruby. For his Eris. For his one and not always only. He grinned, though. "Balder...dash. Yes, I like Adonis. Adonis and his Eris."
The kiss tasted sweet. Tasted like heaven. She was gentle as never was she, and it was a curious thing to witness. He loved it. As he loved her. "I know. I love you... too." His words wavered.
|
|
