Deliciously Wicked

Another Paris Night

2009-04-13T23:11:13Z

A scream pierces the night, cut short, then silence waifs over the grounds. I had watched him as he entered the park, hoping not to be seen. That might have been true of the mortals around him but so from me. In the present mood I wore like a cloak, no one mortal was safe, innocent or otherwise. Cross my path, be my prey the devouring time had begun. So I watched as he played at being silent and cunningly devious in his own mind. If the mortals only knew what devious really was they would run screaming from everything they thought they knew. How many times have I warned of the shadows and the monsters that roam the alleyways in Paris and other places? We were everywhere, are everywhere. Don't close your eyes at night, don't tell ghost stories around the campfire, you might just get something besides a ghost that comes your way.

He moved in a fashion that spoke confidence of himself. Little mortal man, I have known the most sinister of all vampires and you can not hold a candle to confidence. Too bad you won't be meeting him here tonight. True mastery of death, such a privilege to be ended by one so cold. It will be my pleasure to end your life this night, and might I say you won't be disappointed. Stifling a laugh, "well maybe you will". You're not near ready to die but that won't be your choice. Judge, jury and executioner am I, dressed in black for the final act.

Moving out from the trees, I glide slowly and noiselessly toward him. He sees me and is startled that he had not glimpsed my shadow before. Warning me to stop, I chuckle at his warning.

"Why ever would you need me to stop, is there something wrong?"

I really hated acting so defenseless, when it ended up making me take it out on them later. From there he wasn't very nice or friendly which I care nothing at all about. The one word that stuck out that raised the hair on my neck was Bitch! Now why was it that all of a sudden that word had started to be over-used?

"You poor little man, you might have skated by with a seductive death had you not said that word, but since it has hit a nerve recently your the one who wins the prize for using it."

He started to say something else but the air for him to do so never reached his throat. Instead my arms banded around him while moving to create a shadow from prying eyes. Sharp needle point fangs several inches long pierced his throat and the adrenaline forced his blood up faster than had I just seduced him. All the lovely nasty deeds he had committed in his life flowed into me and seasoned the flavor of his life's essence. But then, the nasty little bugger had the nerve to rub against me, just once. More an accident I'm sure but undeniable was the hard on he sported for his death. My mind spoke to him of things he had not seen and showed him deeds of his own from a different perspective. Within seconds he lived a lifetime and committed the acts he had in the past. Fear and terror drove him over the edge, his heart beat too furiously in his chest and just as the last few beats were about to sound, his heart exploded in his chest.

Withdrawing fangs and licking the final draw of blood, I looking into his face and spoke one final time.

"Little man, don't you know there are monsters in the city at night. Predators of old from story books written to frighten children. We are real, we are here, and we are coming for you and your kind. Too bad you won't be telling your tale to anyone else. Sleep in hell mortal and be comforted by all your victims. They are waiting there for you."

Minutes later, from the bridge over the Seine River, I watched the park as he came into view. He thought to be quiet and use stealth and cunning....

"Oh and that scream from earlier, *devious smile, green eyes flashing from mirth*
Well, that hasn't happened yet, ......... mortal."

Posted via email from vixenceleste's posterous

Forgiven

2009-04-13T22:51:08Z

Couldn't save you from the start
Love you so it hurts my soul
Can you forgive me for trying again?
Your silence makes me hold my breath
All the time has passed you by

For so long, I've tried to shield you from the world
You couldn't face the freedom on your own
Here I am
Left in silence

You gave up the fight
You left me behind
All that stands forgiven
You'll always be mine
I know deep inside
All that stands forgiven

Watched the clouds drifting away
Still the sun can't warm my face
I know it was destined to go wrong
You were looking for the great escape
To chase your demons away

For so long, I've tried to shield you from the world
You couldn't face the freedom on your own
Here I am
Left in silence

You gave up the fight
You left me behind
All that stands forgiven
You'll always be mine
I know deep inside
All that stands forgiven

I've been so lost since you've gone
Why not me before you?
Why did fate deceive me?
Everything turned out so wrong
Why did you leave me in silence?

You gave up the fight
You left me behind
All that stands forgiven
You'll always be mine
I know deep inside
All that stands forgiven

Posted via email from vixenceleste's posterous

Devious Journal Entry

2009-01-09T09:13:04Z

Single Rose of Sorrow by =Obsidian-Siren on deviant ART

Name's Hidden Meaning

2009-01-09T09:06:25Z

You Are Original and Innovative

You are very open. You communicate well, and you connect with other people easily.

You are a naturally creative person. Ideas just flow from your mind.

A true chameleon, you are many things at different points in your life. You are very adaptable.

You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone.

You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together.

At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow.

You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily.

Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is.

You are the total package - suave, sexy, smart, and strong.

You have the whole world under your spell, and you can influence almost everyone you know.

You don't always resist your urges to crush the weak. Just remember, they don't have as much going for them as you do.

You are a seeker. You often find yourself restless - and you have a lot of questions about life.

You tend to travel often, to fairly random locations. You're most comfortable when you're far away from home.

You are quite passionate and easily tempted. Your impulses sometimes get you into trouble.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

Devious Journal Entry

2009-01-05T14:50:54Z

The Music Box by =Obsidian-Siren on deviant ART

Once again I find myself resting upon the window seat of my favorite room. The room I speak of is my sitting room, which in this case resides in the property right outside of Paris. This is where I come when I feel the need to escape the mortal dole drums of day-to-day life. The night is cold and being close to water the fog is thick enough to be created for a horror movie. The atmosphere around the estate does not bother me. It’s the kind of thing legends of vampires and the like are made of. Having just celebrated another birthday, I find myself again thrust into the past and into that state of . . . Nostalgia!

I know I have written about this before. The word that should require a warning label, even for preternatural beings it’s a word better left alone. Yet, who really can keep one’s mind from going in that direction. A few vampires I know more than likely could, but not this one. Every so often I find myself traveling back to sometime in my Eternity and reflecting on who, what, where and when. The music box I’ve had as far back as my memory will go, rests in my hand. I have sat in this very spot before and looked out this very same window, only to see my reflection staring back at me. Opening the music box, I continue to stare at the glass, soon knowing the music will take me somewhere. Somewhere back into the land of Nostalgia……

Voices from the past haunt my thoughts and soon a vision of a man in uniform comes to mind. Soon the music will stop, the screaming will start and the blood will flow. {what did you expect, I’m a vampire remember} Of course the handsome man in uniform is the last to go, he’s caught my attention from the beginning so therefore he gets to satisfy my craving for blood and lust together. The fear in his eyes awakens the inner demon, stirring her into catapulting me into action. Within seconds, the uniform is in shreds, his thoughts are over-run by erotic images of lust, he and I wrapped in a timeless dance. The fear is gone from his eyes but does not put the demon to rest. For she knows that this is all a game to procure what we want.

Around us, the few I had come with are engaged in the same ritual and others are merely feeding their thirst. The time, the place, the man, none of this matter since this is the way we have done our deed for decades. Playing like children at our own game. Feeding in mass, playing with mortal’s minds. This night no different from the hundreds played out before it. The man below me has no idea his fellow mortals are dying around him. He only sees and feels what I allow, his moans telling me he’s enthralled with his inner vision of what is happening.

For moments I take my attention from him to watch the beautiful perfected performance around me, letting it seep into my vision and feed my inner demon into a frenzy of hunger. Looking down at my “guest” I smile seductively, whisper words only he can understand. I allow his hands to roam, while I can feel the fangs inside my mouth elongating. He sees nothing of what is really happening, only his “siren’s song” lulling him into a false sense of arousal while his blood runs hot and pumps faster through his veins. Keeping eye contact with him, I lower my upper body over his and as his arms surround me, my mouth goes for his throat.

It is only seconds when he realizes something is very wrong but then the “siren’s song” takes over once again and he’s back to his raven haired beauty with the jade green eyes and the perfect body, taking him to heights he’s never achieved before. In reality, his blood, like molten lava is filling my mouth and flowing down my throat in flashes of pure lightning. A moan from my lips, one from his, both hold different reasons for the pleasure. His moan is one that comes from his death to continue my life. A paradox of sorts I believe as he is but 2 heartbeats away from his demise.

Rising above him, his life force dripping from my fangs, I see the glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He knows his death is eminent and I feel no remorse, no apologies for who and what I am. As he takes his last breath the noise in the room rushes back into focus having disappeared as I feasted on his blood. The screams around the room had started coming to a lull, the smell of blood and fear though heavy in the room, were not as strong now as it had been. The feeding frenzy we had partaken in was coming to a close.

As the music from the box winds down, so does the memory of that night. My vision begins to clear from the past to the present and I wonder what it was that had whisked me back into the past and what specifically had caused the nostalgic feeling. As I continue to watch out the window realizing the fog has lifted I see a figure across the road walking toward the light of the street lamp. As he gets closer to the light I see the figure is a man.

Smiling a predatory smile I see he’s not just any man…..But a man in a uniform. Rising from my seat at the window, I walk through the sitting room toward the door and outside. Nostalgia, like I have said is a word that should come with a warning label. But… Not for me this night. I chuckled at the irony of it, since it would seem I just couldn’t turn down a man in uniform.

Devious Journal Entry

2009-01-05T14:34:53Z

Deadly Beauty by =Obsidian-Siren on deviant ART

Devious Journal Entry

2008-08-27T20:23:38Z

A Shakespearean Tragedy by *Obsidian-Siren on deviant ART

Limericks

2008-07-14T00:09:33Z

Darlings, we've been writing Limericks over at the site. Log in and join us in the fun. If you are not a member come and check us out.

Armand the coven master
Takes things slow and sometimes faster
He flits in and out
Grins grumbles and shouts
And covers poor Benji in plaster.

Khayman is Kind
The Master of a very fine Mind
His words are quite cunning
His prestige quite shunning
To the one who falls be-hind.

Who is the quiet vampire
That would be mael i believe in his empire
The noisiest sound
That's when it's found
Is louis sparking up his bonfire.

Santiago's gargoyles are quaint
Sitting as regal as saints
Their his personal pets
And without any regrets
He laughs when the visitors faint

Come and join us, if you dare. laughs

All writings belong to Immortal Sojourns and are subject to copyright restrictions.
©Immortal Sojourns 2005-2008

Bric-a-Bracs

2008-07-11T08:25:47Z

Nostalgia!

Nostalgia! That is a word that needs a warning label on it. After living long years, collecting memories like dust collects on the mantle, it becomes too easy to get caught up in the dusting. But first, of course, there are the little nic nacs setting on the mantle that must be moved in order to wipe the dust away. They are the real culprits. Those cute little bric-a-bracs from the past, small little pretties calling out for me to remember . . .

Remember when . . . we traveled together from here and to there. We shared such times together, hunted beautifully together, and when our nourishment had been seen to, the door to our hunger for each other opened wide. There was no stopping us, bodies writhing in need of satisfaction and finally before the sun would hit the horizon, wrapped around each other, our satisfaction was complete. A sigh from me, a tender kiss to my forehead from you, then sleep would be the curtain coming down on our performance. Good memories, so you move on . . .

Moving the next piece out of the way, ah. Remember when . . . A horrible disagreement, you said, I said .... One walked to the left, the other to the right. Over a year later, one breaks down, the other responds, together again. But, neither will say how that year really went. To be sure, devious and mischievous fun for both, that's been a mantra with us, but some things can't be blocked out. The memory of a kiss, a scent of jasmine in the air. A hint of leather as I round the corner of a department store. Memories, good and bad.

Almost to the end of the mantle, I feel like I'm going to make it. The dust of my memories exorcised for the night. Until I run into the music box....

Remember when.... but I don't. I've always had it, it's never left me through the long years. I know the song by heart, I've listened hundreds maybe thousands of times to it. When I do, I can almost touch the faint memory of a woman, singing this song to someone but I can't see who. And then the memory is gone and all that remains is the song.

As the last of the dust is wiped away, I carefully open the music box. Leaving it on the mantle, I curl up on the sofa, close my eyes and as the song begins to play, the vision of a the woman once again and I begin to hum along . . .

LA VIE EN ROSE Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche— Voilà le portrait sans retouche De l’homme auquel j’appartiens. Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d’amour, Des mots de tous les jours, Et ça me fait quelque chose. Il est entré dans mon cœur, Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause. C’est lui pour moi, Moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l’a dit, l’a juré pour la vie. Et dès que je l’aperçois, Alors je sens en moi.
Mon cœur qui bat.

Des nuits d’amour à plus finir, Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place, Les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent, Heureux, heureux à en mourir. Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d’amour, Des mots de tous les jours, Et ça me fait quelque chose. Il est entré dans mon cœur, Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause. C’est lui pour moi, Moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l’a dit, l’a juré pour la vie. Et dès que je l’aperçois, Alors je sens en moi.
Mon cœur qui bat.

Eyes that gaze into mine, A smile that is lost on his lips— That is the unretouched portrait Of the man to whom I belong. When he takes me in his arms And speaks softly to me, I see life in rosy hues. He tells me words of love, Words of every day, And in them I become something. He has entered my heart, A part of happiness Whereof I understand the reason. It’s he for me and I for him, throughout life, He has told me, he has sworn to me, for life. And from the things that I sense, Now I can feel within me.
My heart that beats.

In endless nights of love, A great delight that comes about, The pains and bothers are banished, Happy, happy to die of love. When he takes me in his arms And speaks softly to me, I see life in rosy hues. He tells me words of love, Words of every day, And in them I become something. He has entered my heart, A part of happiness Whereof I understand the reason. It’s he for me and I for him, throughout life, He has told me, he has sworn to me, for life. And from the things that I sense, Now I can feel within me.
My heart that beats.

Credit for the song:
Birth name Édith Giovanna Gassion
Also known as La Môme Piaf
(The Little Sparrow)
Born December 19, 1915
Died October 10, 1963 (aged 47)
Plascassier, France

Headlines

2008-06-25T09:10:45Z

Headlines

RUN…. Keep running, but listen closely while I tell you the ending of your story….

How far do you imagine you can run to get away from me? A mile, two, dare I even say three. You run for your very life, I run because it suits me. Even if I stood stark still in this very spot and waited, I’d find you again. Your scent fills my nostrils as if I had bent down to smell a rose from a garden. Only your scent isn’t pleasant, it’s the despair, the desperation and wrongful deeds that called out to me, bringing your scent to me upon the air. Your constant thoughts of how unfair your life has been, though you sat back and did nothing to change it, brought us here, to this moment in time. You called and I answered, now all you can do is run while your thoughts scream out for help. You think anyone cares enough to come to your aid? Non, no one cares you see, that is why you are out here instead of in a nice warm bed, with a nice house and a nice family. No one cares that you prowl the night, selling yourself for a meal, money or even a smoke. Even you don’t care enough to change it.

Now me? I care that you’re out here, alone, frightened, wondering if you’ll see tomorrow, which of course you won’t. I care that you’re here because you will be the life I take to keep mine going. It’s the law of the jungle, whether lush green grass, trees and waterfalls or concrete streets and skyscrapers, matters not what kind of jungle. Survival of the fittest ma chérie, you’re at the bottom of the food chain and I happen to be in need of food.

So keep running if you must but while you do let me tell you what’s happening to entice me even more.

The more you run, the more you’re blood will pump, the harder you’re heart will have to work. Your blood will heat up to a nice warm, slightly hot temperature, just right for drinking. In fact it will be like drinking an aged Scotch compared to a luke-warm beer. So ma petit, continue to run if you must but know that you’re only making yourself more tempting, tastier. In the end it won’t make any difference whether you run or stop to hide.

The fear she feels is rising, it runs through my own veins fueling me to find her faster. Knowing how adrenaline shot blood tastes, a growl or two escape as I pinpoint her location and get ready for the kill. Predators we call ourselves, murderers we will be called in the headlines of any newspaper. No matter what you call us, the end result is the same.

We live on because we feed off the weak, the sick and the dying. For hundreds of years we’ve taken the perverted and the dregs of society. Food to us, these dregs that today you cared little for but tomorrow you will mourn, even cause panic over. You’ll cry out about a possible serial killer being out on the streets, praying on your poor, defenseless homeless population. When really wouldn’t it be more of a statement to say, “someone did us a favor?” Somewhere, in a posh office, feet on the desk and yelling for some poor underpaid secretary to get coffee, a political figure will read the headlines and think just that. Hypocrites of society, you’re not without blame. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are any better than some homeless junkie. When it comes to our survival, you’re a thick, juicy t-bone steak with all the trimmings.

For now, enough of what society will say, I wouldn’t want my dinner to get cold. She’s stopped running and decided to take the hide approach. Poor thing, it won’t make a difference, the end result I said would be the same. Jumping up on a dumpster, I use it to vault myself up onto a garage roof . On the other side is my scared little rabbit, hiding behind some piled up wood. Slowly I make my way down from the roof, standing not 2 feet from where she’s hiding. In three moves, faster than the human eye can catch, the wood is pushed away, her windpipe is shut down and in her mind a voice speaks, “You are the tasty little petit steak on my plate of survival, lucky you.”

The headlines splashed across the newspapers the next morning read:

What is happening to our homeless? Could there be a possible Serial Killer on our streets. Our homeless population not safe. (story on page 3a)

As sleep comes upon me, I can’t help but laugh as the city reads the morning headlines.

Unaware

2008-06-25T08:57:46Z

Unaware

I watch him as he sits, in totally oblivion of the danger he is about to face. Unaware of the predators that still prowl among the night. We own the night, as it has been for centuries it is ours to control, to command what is right and what is wrong. During the day the laws of man go over our heads like that of clouds, meandering along with the wind and the whims of man, chaos in their wake if they deem necessary.

Man, one chaotic mass. Wars, not on our homelands but far away making it impossible to really know what's going on. Then, what do we care of war? We rage our own, for survival. Soon his blood will flow into my waiting mouth, traveling to the back of my throat where is will linger only for a moment. Then, oh then it will be like the most expensive Merlot, only not. There is nothing to compare what the blood of prey tastes like.

So there he sits, the dark of the night surrounding him, the light of the moon enough to make him feel safe. Me? I need no light, I can see in the darkest of nights. Slowly coming from my hiding place, not one blade of grass makes a noise, nor does the wind whip enough to catch his attention. Still oblivious to my presence I wonder what it is he’s thinking, but I decide not to spoil the surprise by probing his mind.

From all around him, a voice whispers, "dangerous to be out this late, wouldn't you say?” As he casually looks around he sees no reason to be hearing a voice. Then, eventually he turns around to look behind. In just a split second all he sees is a tall woman dressed in black, alabaster skin and long black hair. The jade green of the eyes would freeze him in his place, maybe promising desires unimagined, yet before those promised would take root in his mind, he would see the fangs and fear unimagined would take over.

In his mind, a voice will speak and it would be the last he hears, “I’m sorry pet, it just looks like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time”.

Retribution Continues

2008-05-07T01:43:08Z

When the past crashes into the present: Retribution Continued

While helping Daniel and Armand solve Benji’s problem, it comes to my attention that there is a reporter involved in this whole mess. Not willing to let the trail go cold she continues to investigate us and speculate on a “vampire coven” hidden in the city somewhere. Knowing something has to be done before she steps into something that could possibly hurt us, I decided to track her down to find out what she knew. Why she was so interested in vampires as a topic.

I decided that night that I would sneak into the Newspaper where she worked. Knowing I wouldn’t be seen I found her cubicle easily enough and started to rummage through the mess that was her desk. She seemed to have every newspaper clipping of every strange death that had ever took place in the last year. Bodies in dark allies, dumpsters and missing person reports. She hadn’t bothered with children so she had figured out we only went after adults. It didn’t look like she had a long way to go before she figured quite a bit of it out. I had to ask myself, “Why just the last year? Where had she been before that since she only started this investigation a year ago?”

I continued to rummage through her papers, journals and even sticky notes, anything that would tell me who or what she was up to. Her name was Madeline Wells, I had her address here in the city but I needed something from her past, something that would make sense to her sudden fascination with vampires. No one just decides one morning to wake up and be obsessed with vampires. Something has to drive a mortal to that place so the obsession could take hold. After a few minutes, I found the answer. It was buried in her notes, a journal she kept in the bottom desk draw. It told an interesting story and also told where she had come from. That alone told me how our little nosy bird had gotten her obsession and why she wasn’t willing to give it up.

According to her notes she was originally from Las Vegas, Nevada and had been working for a small rag newspaper there about a year ago. There had been an incident in one of the bigger Casino’s there and she had been the reporter covering the story. Originally what had transpired over the course of a few days wouldn’t have drawn any public attention but the poker game that had taken place had gotten intense enough that some of the staff must have leaked out a few details of the conversation between players. Then, our host lost the game and the murmurs around the Casino were a buzz.

Finally, and this was the most incriminating, the guards bodies had been discovered which was not a problem but once someone is drained of blood, then people start asking questions. I was slightly surprised that our little adventure back then had caught someone’s attention but even more so was a photo printed in her newspaper of Louis, Santiago, and myself leaving the hotel. None of us had seen her or a photographer, a testament to where our priorities had been that day. I remembered that day very well and still had unfinished business with our host from that night.

Reading further into her notes it also seemed as if she had tried to find out more about Terry Benedict and how he had fit into all this. She had come up with closed doors and dead end streets where he was concerned, so had started focusing her efforts on the “Vampire Coven” that she was determined to find. Having decided I’d read enough, I gathered all her information, taking the stairs to the parking garage, I incinerate all of it in a trashcan. Having gotten her address from her desk I head over to her apartment to end this once and for all. She lived on the third floor of a run down, ramshackle apartment building in the older part of town. Rough down here, you had to be on your guard even during the day. I guess the sleazy newspaper business didn’t pay all that well.

Deciding to take the unconventional way up, I land on her balcony, if you can call it that and open the sliding doors to her apartment. I can sense she’s here and I have no remorse or second thoughts of what has to be done. Walking around her apartment, I touch little things here and there, finding out she’s not exactly been a saint in her life. True of most reporters, she didn’t care who she had to run over, or ruin to get what she wanted. Especially if it furthered her career. Mortals, [hiss] always willing to wipe out their own kind for their selfish greed. Hearing my intended victim in the bedroom, she must have heard something because now I can hear her coming from her room, baseball bat in hand. As she rounds the corner swinging the bat, my hand catches it in full swing, pulling it out of her hand and tossing it to the floor.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…. Is that anyway to treat a visiting Vampire in your home?” I stood looking at her, reading her thoughts and soaking up her fear like water. The only words to come out of her mouth were stutters so I supplied them for her. “Well now Ms. Wells, it would seem that we have a situation before us. One that does not sit well with me and my kind and of course it’s not going to end well for you. But, I will at least tell you all you need to know before that time…” Her fear was intoxicating.

“It would seem that you have been dogging our heels for over a year now and though I wouldn’t normally pay much attention to such nonsense, you’ve gotten way to close and must be dealt with.”

Pulling the newspaper picture from the back pocket of my jeans, I unfold it and turn it to face her. After a few moments of looking at it her eyes went wide, from my face, to the picture and then back again to my face. “Ah, I see the dawning has come to you. Now you know I’m the woman in the picture. And according to your notes, if I’m the woman in the picture, then I would also happen to be a Vampire.” All I saw before the red of blood was the look in her eyes as they got big enough to almost bulge from her face.

It was over in a matter of minutes. I had assured her while she was dying that vampires were real, and that messing with one or more was always a sure way to get yourself killed.

It didn’t take me long to clean up, check her body for marks and set her back in her bed. I did check her apartment for any other notes, journals and the like. I also figured that her computer was full of information so I set about frying the hard drive so that even a computer forensic expert wouldn’t be able to fix it. One more glance around the apartment satisfied me that I had taken care of what needed to be done.

I went out the same way, landing on the street below. As I turned to leave, Daniel walked from the shadows of the trees across the street. Neither of us said a word until we were but a few feet apart.

“You followed me?” To which he nodded.

“I take it that was the reporters apartment,” he asked.

“Yes, and I found out a few other interesting tidbits but to be honest with you Daniel, I’m not up to talking about it right now.”

We had started walking back in the direction of Armand’s but I stopped for a moment, thinking. Deciding what I was going to do from here.

“Daniel, I’m going on a trip for a couple of days. I just need some time away and I also have business that needs my attention.” I could read the thoughts flying across his face and hurried to reassure him. “I’m not leaving you or because of you. Really, I just need some time by myself. I won’t be gone long and then when I get back we’ll talk.” Walking up to you, I place my hand on your cheek and smile. “I’m coming back, I promise.” I left him standing in the park, no more words spoken between us.

The next night I gathered up a few things and headed to the airport. The jet that was at my disposal made it much easier to travel and I’d have to thank Armand again for being so generous. My destination was a place I should have gone back to months ago, but had let it go for one reason or another. The time had come though, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I wasn’t very fond of Las Vegas, but I guess I could put up with it for the sake of revenge.

I had promised after all, and I always kept my promises.

(for those of you that are new members please refer to the story "Retribution" for background information to this story)

Moonlight Interlude - I

2008-04-21T07:16:53Z

Come, log in and see what I'm up to this time. *devilish grin*

But, you have to log in first:
http://www.immortalsojourns.com/community/forum/index.php?topic=16890.new#new

An Angel? Me? Borrowed from: oxmariannexo

2008-02-27T08:43:13Z

If your eyes are the keys to your soul lets unlock what kind of soul you have.
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as An Angel

I see passion in your eyes which means that you have the soul of an angel. You believe in love and if you haven't already know that some day you'll find it. You love to be with family and friends.

An Angel

100%

An Adventurer

60%

A Coward

50%

A Fairy

40%

A Warrior

10%

The End of Christmas

2008-01-29T08:00:04Z

Finally, the festivities were over. The guests all but gone, a few lingered on the island I’d been told by the pilots and the flight attendants. That was fine. It was a beautiful place for a vacation and Armand’s hospitality knew no bounds. I, on the other hand was certainly ready to leave and get back to the city. Only because I was feeling restless, having spent all this time here to help with the festivities, I was feeling boxed in and needed a change.

So here I sat, on the floor of Armand’s lodge meticulously wrapping precious Christmas ornaments that had become special to me. I couldn’t say why they had, just that I felt they had. You sat and watched as I went about my task. I could hear your thoughts, wondering at the particular way I took special care of the ornaments. The lights had been a very different story at which I finally growled enough that you took them from me and dealt with them yourself. I was thankful you had taken the task over, even laughing and interrupting you when you tried to remind me I hadn’t growled that much since… Well anyway, asking you about the trees, you assure me they will be being taken care of. As I place the last ornament in the box, it’s official. Christmas is truly over and done with for another year.

Earlier you had wrapped your hand around my ankle, teasing the bone and caressing the back of my calf. My leg had tensed but I hadn’t protested. I left it and asked you when you were leaving the Island. As you talked of maybe doing some traveling, I find I’m interested in the details. “Really Daniel, where are you thinking of traveling too?

“I’m not exactly sure when I’m leaving but soon I would think. I’m starting to feel quite closed in here.” Your answer fills me with nostalgia, Paris and or New Orleans, both of which I hadn’t been to in a long while. Being caught up in old memories I don’t hear you the first time you ask your question. When you shake my leg to get my attention, I look up at you a bit bewildered. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

I said do you wanna play?" I look at you quizzically, not quite understanding your meaning of Play….

"Play?" I watch you stand up and extend your hand out towards mine.

"Yeah. Play." You grin and it’s that mischievous grin I’ve seen you use right before something happens. Chuckling at you I nod, taking your hand you pull me up on my feet. Once up I straighten my dress and slip my shoes back on. Having asked Armand if he was interested in coming with us, his reply was for us to go and enjoy ourselves with all that Night Island has to offer. Looking at each other, an understanding passes between us, hand in hand out the door we went.

Nabbed from Satin

2007-11-26T09:50:51Z

HaHaHaHaHa

This Page is Rated

G

obsidian-siren.livejournal.com/

Lets101 Quizzes - Fun Quizzes

Swiped from Santiago

2007-11-18T22:19:48Z

THE MAGICIAN

Which tarot card are you?

Manifestation through will. Imagination, concentration, action. Spirit and Matter united.
A young man raises a doubly terminated wand in his right hand. The wand is held vertically, a tool for the unification of heaven and earth. His left index finger grounds this duality into creation drawing from the original chaos to bring into being the flowers of creation. His aura is shown as the horizontal figure eight, symbol of eternity, while about his waist is wrapped the serpen-cinture, the serpent devouring its own tail, another symbol of eternity. In front of him are the creator/magicians tools, wands, cups, swords and pentacles, symbolizing fire, water, air and earth.

Seasons

2007-11-12T08:38:39Z

Autumn Greetings

Anyone close to me knows that my favorite Season is Autumn. To me, the reason is self explanitory. The beautiful piece behind the cut was written for me by a dear, sweet, and wonderful friend. Ma Petite, you know who you are, I saved it until now. Merci for your beautiful words and the setting in which to put Immortal lovers. ~Celeste

Her body softly fell into the sweet melody of crunchy leaves. It was as though she fell into a canvass of autumn – the tender swarm of colors surrounded her – rich gold’s, warm yellows and rusty oranges. The hues welcomed her finely dressed body into the heap of fall… it had always been her favorite season, always, ever since the day, she met winter.

Nights were warm, but they did not hold that sticky quality summer brought. The colors were rich – but not overwhelming like spring… they were gentle on her eyes. The breeze was a soothing embrace her skin endured – not like the bitter wind winter gifted.

“autumn,” she sighed “how I love it…”

Her slender fingers slithered their way beneath the golden blanket of leaves, each of her fingertips rolled upon the rough and dry texture of them…. She was in awe, in awe that a season so beautiful could be filled with the high amount of goodbyes. Goodbye to the sun, goodbye to short nights, goodbye to the grass and the leaves and the song of the local sparrow.

“Perhaps” she considered beneath the silent hush of a whisper “perhaps I could stay here throughout winter” a faint echo of laughter fell from those delicate red lips of hers and rinsed through the silent atmosphere of night. Her arms and legs playfully spread themselves to and fro within the caress of fallen leaves. She made herself an angel – an angel of rich shades and cobweb branches.

The crisp sound of them cracked beneath her movements and crumbled against the smallest touch…her body fell in silence as she stopped her actions and came to a halt. She softly sat her self up and glanced forward to the naked field before her. Behind remained the hidden mystery of a deepened, green wood – filled with bare trees and crunchy floors.

Her knees were tenderly drawn up and pressed against her chest…. One hand rested itself palm side down against the ground whilst the other pinched at the stem of a single leaf. The small miracle was brought up and delicately left on the surface of her kneecap. Her eyes studied the intricate plan of its design – absorbing the way each threaded vine would filter its way beneath the fine layer of…nature…

“We’re the same… you and I” she smiled kindly to the leaf… glancing down to the patterns on her hand…

“Celeste… ma chere, I’ve been looking for you since sunset…” A deep voice ran to her ears, followed with the light crunch of footsteps… “Where have you been?”

She smiled to herself as he perched himself beside her. Her eyes softly fluttered closed as the warm scent of his body infused to her senses… “Waiting…” she quietly, responded, turning her body to him subtly…

“Aw, for me, ma chere?” he leaned in and pressed the smallest of kisses to her forehead. It was rare that her cheeks would filter into a soft pink… but he warmed her this evening… and without thinking – she welcomed the silent rush of blushing cheeks. She laughed modestly as he grinned to her, it would have been impossible to blush without him noticing it…and soon those soft lips of his found themselves skimming along the surface of her rose tinted skin. “It’s nice to know I still have it…” he winked as he folded his arm around her and willed her body back against the floor.

“Always, mon ange…” she whispered as she leaned up to kiss him… they remained silent, lips pressed upon one another’s in a deepened moment of tenderness. It was beautiful that two immortals could care so deeply for one another…so strongly… for so long. Moments like this had run scarce due to business and hunting.

He pulled from the kiss and glanced down into the depths of her eyes… she smiled in a warm but playful manner after softly nipping against his lip. His black gaze shimmered from her beauty. If anything could warm that alabaster skin of his – it was her…always her…

“Come, ma chere… lets go…” he returned the smile and combed his hand through the black lace of her hair, chuckling as the tips of his fingers sought the orange presence of a leaf… “My fallen angel…” he laughed quietly as he glanced down to the angelic imprint of her body within a swarm of autumn leaves…

Happy Witching Hour

2007-10-31T18:30:52Z

Filtering Livejournal

2007-06-04T19:17:28Z

Due to the new crack downs that are being taken on the internet, I will now be locking those journal entries that are of a more questionable nature to over-18 only.

If you wish to be added to that filter and you are over, please reply to this post with the year of your birthdate.