I don't know what I'm meant to do
All I know is I believe in you
All I know is I believe in you
She was certain that should she have known about him previously--if they had already met, gotten to know each other, perhaps... other things--she would have found him as equally dangerous as she was. There was something about the way that dirty minds worked (the gears shifting and turning to mold situations into their favor, the way that they slipped around in the middle of nights and passed from infraction to infraction) that made one someone to beware. It might have been a mere unfortunate circumstance that the man missed out on the glint in her salient eyes, the slight sign of her knowing more than she let on, but if that was the way things would play then she wouldn't ruin the fun.
She was glad to have returned to the eerie establishment, the place in which had been more home than any she had before. But it wouldn't be too long until she realized that nothing had really changed; did anything ever really change there? Lurking in the dark corners were members of the facility that stood on watch for unusual behaviors, patrons all milled about doing their favorite things (whatever they were, gambling, flirting with pretty girls, making unethical exchanges in hidden rooms) but they were all the same: only select few actually knew what went on, had the mind about them to tell what was real and what was a show. She grew bored of them, became increasingly disdainful with their monotonous ways and dreary personalities.
But then he showed up, and her heart did things it hadn't in some time.
As expected after placing her order, he with emerald green eyes copied her and she stifled a slide chuckle. His voice wrapped around the fragile frame of a mottled body and she wondered if she even needed the drink to become intoxicated. What a strange feeling, really, for how quickly he seemed to be making an impression on her, one that would take many days to shake off. (She wondered, too, if his intentions were to stay as long as that would take, and then she would never be rid of his memory soon.) She had also snatched her drink before removing herself from the table, from him, and she knew he would do the same before following her. So the two with drinks in hand made way to her room, and through it all she said not a word to clue him in.
His question rang in the emptiness of her chest, filled only with a heart that beat in heavy staccato tempos, as they pulled alongside the door with red ink. It looked as if it could have been marked with blood, and for those who asked she never answered. Better to leave them speculating and mystified than satisfied. She curled around to face him, his taller figure complimenting her lithe one quite nicely, splashed lips parting to reveal a quaint laugh. He stretched the rose out to her, but she shook her head, silver braid swaying with the motion. "Don't antagonize me by giving back a gift I just gave you." Cheekily she tsked at him, turning down the rose. "It's yours now, something to remember me by when you leave." If he would leave; she played coy with him, tilting her head just so, angled just right, so that her lips barely brushed the bottom of his throat. And just as hastily she pulled away, cracking open the door.
Before moving inside the darkly lit room, candles flickering against walls lined with plenty of roses, she faced him and held her glass out to meet his. "I have led you here, of course. You may know me as the Red Rose; when you are ready for my name, you shall have it." She winked softly while backing a few steps, enticing him to enter with her. "A toast, to you proving yourself worthy."
She was glad to have returned to the eerie establishment, the place in which had been more home than any she had before. But it wouldn't be too long until she realized that nothing had really changed; did anything ever really change there? Lurking in the dark corners were members of the facility that stood on watch for unusual behaviors, patrons all milled about doing their favorite things (whatever they were, gambling, flirting with pretty girls, making unethical exchanges in hidden rooms) but they were all the same: only select few actually knew what went on, had the mind about them to tell what was real and what was a show. She grew bored of them, became increasingly disdainful with their monotonous ways and dreary personalities.
But then he showed up, and her heart did things it hadn't in some time.
As expected after placing her order, he with emerald green eyes copied her and she stifled a slide chuckle. His voice wrapped around the fragile frame of a mottled body and she wondered if she even needed the drink to become intoxicated. What a strange feeling, really, for how quickly he seemed to be making an impression on her, one that would take many days to shake off. (She wondered, too, if his intentions were to stay as long as that would take, and then she would never be rid of his memory soon.) She had also snatched her drink before removing herself from the table, from him, and she knew he would do the same before following her. So the two with drinks in hand made way to her room, and through it all she said not a word to clue him in.
His question rang in the emptiness of her chest, filled only with a heart that beat in heavy staccato tempos, as they pulled alongside the door with red ink. It looked as if it could have been marked with blood, and for those who asked she never answered. Better to leave them speculating and mystified than satisfied. She curled around to face him, his taller figure complimenting her lithe one quite nicely, splashed lips parting to reveal a quaint laugh. He stretched the rose out to her, but she shook her head, silver braid swaying with the motion. "Don't antagonize me by giving back a gift I just gave you." Cheekily she tsked at him, turning down the rose. "It's yours now, something to remember me by when you leave." If he would leave; she played coy with him, tilting her head just so, angled just right, so that her lips barely brushed the bottom of his throat. And just as hastily she pulled away, cracking open the door.
Before moving inside the darkly lit room, candles flickering against walls lined with plenty of roses, she faced him and held her glass out to meet his. "I have led you here, of course. You may know me as the Red Rose; when you are ready for my name, you shall have it." She winked softly while backing a few steps, enticing him to enter with her. "A toast, to you proving yourself worthy."
@toulouse
TO LIVE MY LIFE THE WAY I WANT
TO SAY AND DO WHATEVER I PLEASE
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(Please tag me in every post)
(Please tag me in every post)
