This is some background on Lerida before she came here. Alot has changed. Lerida was cursed for some time-ashen of heart, charcoal of soul, as she wandered the earth and time torn between two sides-Human and Garanle'.
Moscow is her escape, she has an apartment there which is where this begins. Exiter, who quickly enters this snapshot in time, is her oldest and dearest best friend, and is another character of mine, and is an NPC. He is Garanle' as well, but kindred too, so has quite a complex background that wil always affect his future..
I hope you enjoy this tapestry of images which explain somewhat where Lerida is coming from
Lerida's Writer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The stench and song of the riots had long since abated, leaving a trend to the night air-an unusual electricity that was potent to sensitivity of a woman like herself. The smiles were long gone and the sheltered spirit of the soldiers now echoed an unequivical radiance that made children squint and mothers shield their faces. Blood was still fresh, and she breathed in the fresh kill with a familiar smile, her eyes tempered by amusement.
Hinting her black velvet form up the stairway she crept her hands within its generous pockets as a chill scurried up her spine, residing with a tickle to her elbow, and then shuddering into her chest where it nestled. She closed her eyes and smiled pleasantly. The chill she beckoned, even if her lips protested it's advances-like intimacies with a dangerous man, she could not resist its bite!
The balcony extending majestically across the plaza coaxed her forward to a view across the city. The Embraced would wander soon and she would remain idle, stuffed into the shadow tuffets awaiting her, ignoring the Summoning of their twilight smothered eyes. With a flick of her neck she turned and disappeared inside, locking the door.
No chill, dangerous man or kindred would visit her tonight, though she longed for the hit of leather and zip against her skin, her soul and flesh was best to rest, as the moon's tether to the sky whispered like wire in a storm, and promised stories she would see unfold, surely. But not tonight.
Inside she turned to the lamp upon the banister leering down at her from the wall. Flicking a match to life from a wink of shadow, she turned and walked to light only three other lamps, one of which was an open lantern, cracked and sharp from yet another break in, in her absence. They happened every time, but never could make off with much. And this she pondered: perhaps squatters had timed her tenures in various cities, and took haste as her heels left the city"
Looking around she took note of the dishevelled teal rug, turned at the corners like lotus leaves about to close, and the two chairs of the worn dining table upturned and one beam broken. Clicking her lips she ignored it and looked out the misted opaque window, drizzles of glossy melted snow easing down in herds of white. Transfixed and settled, she procured her thin cigarette and lit it, smoke rising in grey tendrils at her side...
Yes, the night called her name as the tap of footsteps began their ascent to her door. If they saw it locked they would turn. If they were kindred. If it was a thief, they'd wish they had chosen another apartment. Whetting her appetite with a bitter taste, the steps reached her door, from which she examined her side of it, with an inquisitive eye, lowering her lids, and expelling the smoke, as firm knocks rang out against the cold, the wood and startling her from her self-assured air.
At the door she lowered her cigarette and pressed her slight body against it, closing her eyes and arching her lips, trying to taste their scent through the pin holes of air that pocketed through the doorway and filled her nose with nothing but dried leaves, that cutting, metallic-hit of blood, and perhaps, could she detect...Leather"
Lifting her hand she pressed it too against the door and with all her energy probed beyond that wall of wood. Her smell could only detail so much, it was her reverberating her energy to whomever that was outside, and back, that would ultimately supply the information she sought-or it could be her expiry should they take a sword to the door..
But that was nonsense! Of course..
The wood surface trembled and shivers rippled across her flesh and through her blood, bubbling it in a frenzy of fear and excitement. With a flash her eyes were open, the door unlocked and her hardy spirit barely pinned in place as green orbs circle the perimetres for the Exiter.
She could smell his scent on any wind-rushed or slovenly, whatever the wind brought with it she could assume the nuances of, filter, then dismiss. This breeze was barely there, but its presence she was sure of as the silver drops chimed softly at her ear lobes and the odd strand of hair whispered about her shoulders. The silence was eerie and sexy-it stirred her like a cool cup of tea, and how she wanted the night to drink of her life.
Scratch
Looking up to the eaves above her she smiled a winning smile, as the boots crept along and her gaze slithered up the leg to the groin, to the stomach, chest and finally, the face of her old friend and much celebrated Kindred-he knew of one of her early lovers, Nezker, and had attmpted to Embrace before Resisting and tears broke his facade and he curled in a ball. Lerida had been his Keeper, his unspoken Protector for a time, his pillar of honesty, fortitude and with her strange and lovely talent for easing him, an almost divine comfort, the only woman he would return to with Eagle loyalty would be Lerida-in fact he had pronounced her 'Nyx' amid a blessing eve....But that was another tale altogether..
Lifting a gloved hand she watched as he descended, gracefully, his Mohawk black and his ponytail sliding down his back in inky sheen, braided and tied at the bottom with leather string. His dark brown gaze took her in, and his breath was stolen. He loved this woman.
"Why don't you just speak, rather than hide on rooftops, Exiter?"
He smiled and squeezed her hand, the leather of his gloves creasing and cracking in a a barely audible sound, as he then moved to embrace her, and she him. Both closed their eyes and breathed the other in. Time changed many things, but not the scent of the True ones. Not the sense that this soul was yours to Keep. She sighed and he opened his eyes, as they stood embraced against the night
Twisting his face into a leer, Exiter stared out across the plaza and the change in the electricity in the air. The night was a little warmer now, which was odd, but still the skin on his arms prickled at the thought of what may lurk. He knew he was to be feared as well, and perhaps it was that thought, and her recognition of his thinking that as their eyes met, that affected him so.
Together they walked to the edge of the balcony and looked across the plaza, both uneasy in their moments-a stiffness to their stance, and the blinking of their eyes-unsteady, worried. The air taunted them with promise of a sulking sky, about to rain at any moment, or perhaps the shadows on the roof tops were what was burgeoning more so than a stormy horizon.
Flinching as she removed her gloves, Lerida pocketed them and splayed her fingers and lifted them to examine, the lines in her hands were red and green, a map or insignia of the treasure she garnered inside, a tiny flame, incandescent within her ribcage.
"This is the time we knew would come", her voice was solemn and returning his gaze to the plaza he watched, still, not a movement or a flinch nor a blink. He felt hardy and readied now, but his face couldn't tell you that, the expressionless facade that it now was.
Removing her hat, she dropped it at her feet and she too acknowledged the plaza, and with that her skin turned ashen, her face, arms and nails grey. Her hair, bright red-orange and purple lifted into an unholy, ghostly breeze, shifting in the invisible and seemingly impossible breeze. Slowly, her skin began shifting until she stood, every pore black as ebony, her eyes crimson. Her clothes disapated so that her body was but a sumptuous canvas of black, naked but seemingly nippleless, much like a gargoyle-though far more attractive. Lerida smiled and he smiled back, as feathers extended from her shoulderblades, and from his the same, except his skin was still alabaster, but his eyes now too shifted to a ruby cast. The symbiotic nature they shared when Garanle' was a profoundly intense experience for the both of them, though tonight, now in their other forms, they felt a serenity and it sharpened their sense of smell, keen became their eye sight, and soundwaves were almost orgasmic for the first few pulses until the body adjusted to its tingling receptivity to the ebbing.
Taking one anothers hand-her right, his left, they rose to the balcony edge and slowly lifted up, the feathers batting against the eerie silence like gossamer against tile, as their hovering forms disappeared across the plaza, in pursuit of the nightmare on rooftop
Moscow is her escape, she has an apartment there which is where this begins. Exiter, who quickly enters this snapshot in time, is her oldest and dearest best friend, and is another character of mine, and is an NPC. He is Garanle' as well, but kindred too, so has quite a complex background that wil always affect his future..
I hope you enjoy this tapestry of images which explain somewhat where Lerida is coming from
Lerida's Writer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The stench and song of the riots had long since abated, leaving a trend to the night air-an unusual electricity that was potent to sensitivity of a woman like herself. The smiles were long gone and the sheltered spirit of the soldiers now echoed an unequivical radiance that made children squint and mothers shield their faces. Blood was still fresh, and she breathed in the fresh kill with a familiar smile, her eyes tempered by amusement.
Hinting her black velvet form up the stairway she crept her hands within its generous pockets as a chill scurried up her spine, residing with a tickle to her elbow, and then shuddering into her chest where it nestled. She closed her eyes and smiled pleasantly. The chill she beckoned, even if her lips protested it's advances-like intimacies with a dangerous man, she could not resist its bite!
The balcony extending majestically across the plaza coaxed her forward to a view across the city. The Embraced would wander soon and she would remain idle, stuffed into the shadow tuffets awaiting her, ignoring the Summoning of their twilight smothered eyes. With a flick of her neck she turned and disappeared inside, locking the door.
No chill, dangerous man or kindred would visit her tonight, though she longed for the hit of leather and zip against her skin, her soul and flesh was best to rest, as the moon's tether to the sky whispered like wire in a storm, and promised stories she would see unfold, surely. But not tonight.
Inside she turned to the lamp upon the banister leering down at her from the wall. Flicking a match to life from a wink of shadow, she turned and walked to light only three other lamps, one of which was an open lantern, cracked and sharp from yet another break in, in her absence. They happened every time, but never could make off with much. And this she pondered: perhaps squatters had timed her tenures in various cities, and took haste as her heels left the city"
Looking around she took note of the dishevelled teal rug, turned at the corners like lotus leaves about to close, and the two chairs of the worn dining table upturned and one beam broken. Clicking her lips she ignored it and looked out the misted opaque window, drizzles of glossy melted snow easing down in herds of white. Transfixed and settled, she procured her thin cigarette and lit it, smoke rising in grey tendrils at her side...
Yes, the night called her name as the tap of footsteps began their ascent to her door. If they saw it locked they would turn. If they were kindred. If it was a thief, they'd wish they had chosen another apartment. Whetting her appetite with a bitter taste, the steps reached her door, from which she examined her side of it, with an inquisitive eye, lowering her lids, and expelling the smoke, as firm knocks rang out against the cold, the wood and startling her from her self-assured air.
At the door she lowered her cigarette and pressed her slight body against it, closing her eyes and arching her lips, trying to taste their scent through the pin holes of air that pocketed through the doorway and filled her nose with nothing but dried leaves, that cutting, metallic-hit of blood, and perhaps, could she detect...Leather"
Lifting her hand she pressed it too against the door and with all her energy probed beyond that wall of wood. Her smell could only detail so much, it was her reverberating her energy to whomever that was outside, and back, that would ultimately supply the information she sought-or it could be her expiry should they take a sword to the door..
But that was nonsense! Of course..
The wood surface trembled and shivers rippled across her flesh and through her blood, bubbling it in a frenzy of fear and excitement. With a flash her eyes were open, the door unlocked and her hardy spirit barely pinned in place as green orbs circle the perimetres for the Exiter.
She could smell his scent on any wind-rushed or slovenly, whatever the wind brought with it she could assume the nuances of, filter, then dismiss. This breeze was barely there, but its presence she was sure of as the silver drops chimed softly at her ear lobes and the odd strand of hair whispered about her shoulders. The silence was eerie and sexy-it stirred her like a cool cup of tea, and how she wanted the night to drink of her life.
Scratch
Looking up to the eaves above her she smiled a winning smile, as the boots crept along and her gaze slithered up the leg to the groin, to the stomach, chest and finally, the face of her old friend and much celebrated Kindred-he knew of one of her early lovers, Nezker, and had attmpted to Embrace before Resisting and tears broke his facade and he curled in a ball. Lerida had been his Keeper, his unspoken Protector for a time, his pillar of honesty, fortitude and with her strange and lovely talent for easing him, an almost divine comfort, the only woman he would return to with Eagle loyalty would be Lerida-in fact he had pronounced her 'Nyx' amid a blessing eve....But that was another tale altogether..
Lifting a gloved hand she watched as he descended, gracefully, his Mohawk black and his ponytail sliding down his back in inky sheen, braided and tied at the bottom with leather string. His dark brown gaze took her in, and his breath was stolen. He loved this woman.
"Why don't you just speak, rather than hide on rooftops, Exiter?"
He smiled and squeezed her hand, the leather of his gloves creasing and cracking in a a barely audible sound, as he then moved to embrace her, and she him. Both closed their eyes and breathed the other in. Time changed many things, but not the scent of the True ones. Not the sense that this soul was yours to Keep. She sighed and he opened his eyes, as they stood embraced against the night
Twisting his face into a leer, Exiter stared out across the plaza and the change in the electricity in the air. The night was a little warmer now, which was odd, but still the skin on his arms prickled at the thought of what may lurk. He knew he was to be feared as well, and perhaps it was that thought, and her recognition of his thinking that as their eyes met, that affected him so.
Together they walked to the edge of the balcony and looked across the plaza, both uneasy in their moments-a stiffness to their stance, and the blinking of their eyes-unsteady, worried. The air taunted them with promise of a sulking sky, about to rain at any moment, or perhaps the shadows on the roof tops were what was burgeoning more so than a stormy horizon.
Flinching as she removed her gloves, Lerida pocketed them and splayed her fingers and lifted them to examine, the lines in her hands were red and green, a map or insignia of the treasure she garnered inside, a tiny flame, incandescent within her ribcage.
"This is the time we knew would come", her voice was solemn and returning his gaze to the plaza he watched, still, not a movement or a flinch nor a blink. He felt hardy and readied now, but his face couldn't tell you that, the expressionless facade that it now was.
Removing her hat, she dropped it at her feet and she too acknowledged the plaza, and with that her skin turned ashen, her face, arms and nails grey. Her hair, bright red-orange and purple lifted into an unholy, ghostly breeze, shifting in the invisible and seemingly impossible breeze. Slowly, her skin began shifting until she stood, every pore black as ebony, her eyes crimson. Her clothes disapated so that her body was but a sumptuous canvas of black, naked but seemingly nippleless, much like a gargoyle-though far more attractive. Lerida smiled and he smiled back, as feathers extended from her shoulderblades, and from his the same, except his skin was still alabaster, but his eyes now too shifted to a ruby cast. The symbiotic nature they shared when Garanle' was a profoundly intense experience for the both of them, though tonight, now in their other forms, they felt a serenity and it sharpened their sense of smell, keen became their eye sight, and soundwaves were almost orgasmic for the first few pulses until the body adjusted to its tingling receptivity to the ebbing.
Taking one anothers hand-her right, his left, they rose to the balcony edge and slowly lifted up, the feathers batting against the eerie silence like gossamer against tile, as their hovering forms disappeared across the plaza, in pursuit of the nightmare on rooftop