Post by Nephriel B. R. de laFronde on Jun 25, 2009 2:07:53 GMT -8
The rain began to fall in large, wet droplets; scattering over the bone dry concrete ground and bringing with it a blissful sound of beads drip-dropping into the puddles that had already collected on the paved streets. A figure walked through the collected rainwater; uncharacteristically ignoring how splashes of said water marred the cleanliness of his crisp, white attire.
Nephriel de Draak-Toujours, the male in white, left the home of Pulse and Josephine rather swiftly. He would take heed to his parents’s advice… after he was well rested. He knew they wouldn’t approved of torpor; no one would but he needed this time to himself… he needed the punishment. Stark ivory optics, clear of any pupils and irises peer out from behind a fall of loose, white-blonde waves, peeking up at the moon with a look of utter disgust. Perhaps it was the paranoia of his own befuddled mind that led him to believe that the soft, serene glow that descended from the sky was only mocking his own less than peaceful state.
Nose wrinkled, the vampyre shakes his head and directs his attention back to the road ahead of him with little interest. His white-knuckled fists rise out of the deep confinements of his pockets, uncurling only to grip the edges of his collar, tugging the flap up to cover his blue-flushed cheeks. Every touch of rain to icy flesh froze the flecks of water into tiny globules that rolled down that doll-like creature’s face. Hands slid back into the pockets of his trenchcoat, fingers running over the smooth LCD surface of his cellphone. Plump, ashen lips curled into a defined pout as the blonde’s mind settled on his forthcoming actions. He tipped his head back to look up at the dark skies, silently sending apologies to his Mother and Father before grabbing his cellphone and dialing the first number that popped into his mind.
After a few rings, his Sire’s answering machine asks him to leave a message. With a deep breath, Nephriel spoke into the device in a calm tone.
“Ve, I want you to zero me. I need to take torpor.” He murmured, eyes lifting to spot the tavern of the suburbs. His eyebrows furrowed in a sudden thought… he knew Vex would try to talk him out of it. He knew the vampyre would succeed.
“Nevermind… I'll see you in two weeks, Ve. And even if I don't show it… I love you, old man.” He sighed into the phone, hanging up quickly before dialing another number he knew off by heart.
Answering machine again. Good.
He left a small message for his partner-bound explaining his situation the best he could before shutting his phone off and slipping through the doors of the tavern. He looked around briefly before slipping off to the side where he recognized the familiar face of a friend.
She would do it.
"I want you to send me to torpor."
"Why?"
"Because I need the rest."
She blinked and nodded but remained otherwise compliant.
"I don't know if I have enough weapons. But I'll do what I can."
"Alright, babe. I love you."
And with a kiss to her cheek, he led the woman out through the back doors of the bar, onto the drizzling streets of RavenBlack City.
The blonde male slips out of his coat and white, button-down shirt, looking back up to the fair face of the female.
"Ready?"
He nodded and no sooner had he done so, the contents of a vial of Holy Water is splashed on his half-naked form. The initial pain was excruciating, the burns of the substance peeling off layers of pallid skin from his chest. But it wasn’t enough… the Holy Water didn’t weaken him as much as something else might.
“Do you have GS? It might be more effective.” He muttered, doubling over from the blows.
She nodded and pulled out a few canisters warily.
So far so good.
“When I hit zero, I want you to get out of there as fast as you can and don't tell anyone about this.”
She nodded again.
The Garlic Spray hurt a lot more… the gaseous fluid singed the meat off his bone. It wasn’t a sort of ache he had felt before; the sensation of his skin burning to a crisp and his flesh shriveling up under it. He took what he deemed to be his punishment silently, letting the vampyress finish the job with a few Garlic Sprays.
“I’m out…”
From his knelt position on the wet streets, Nephriel nodded his lowered head.
“I'll see you in two weeks, love. Thank you. Now, get your ass outta there.” He muttered in a hoarse tone. The ice-encrusted wounds soothed the pains of bloodloss but limited his mobility. The burning smell of his flesh and garlic made his stomach turn; his head had begun to spin, white eyes dimming sufficiently before he fell forward onto his hands and knees before his limbs fail to support him and he falls to the wet ground.
“Rest well.” She knelt down and kissed his cheek gently before she was gone.
“I will, love…” he murmured with a small smile, eyelids finally falling shut over dull eyes.
OOC notes:
You are the vampire Nephriel (if this is not you, log out).
You have drunk no pints of blood.
Your rank is Fresh Corpse - next rank at one pint.
Attacked per request.
Nephriel will be taking torpor from today (Wednesday, June 24th, 2009) to Wednesday, July 8th, 2009.
Conditions of torpor;
1) No bodily contact due to weakened physical state.
2) No robbing vampires.
3) Drinking from humans only until he has 250 blood pints.
4) Speaking only if necessary.
5) No posting in forums/newspapers.
Basically, I prefer to keep RP at a minimum. Thank you and sorry for any inconvenience.
~ Arni.
Nephriel de Draak-Toujours, the male in white, left the home of Pulse and Josephine rather swiftly. He would take heed to his parents’s advice… after he was well rested. He knew they wouldn’t approved of torpor; no one would but he needed this time to himself… he needed the punishment. Stark ivory optics, clear of any pupils and irises peer out from behind a fall of loose, white-blonde waves, peeking up at the moon with a look of utter disgust. Perhaps it was the paranoia of his own befuddled mind that led him to believe that the soft, serene glow that descended from the sky was only mocking his own less than peaceful state.
Nose wrinkled, the vampyre shakes his head and directs his attention back to the road ahead of him with little interest. His white-knuckled fists rise out of the deep confinements of his pockets, uncurling only to grip the edges of his collar, tugging the flap up to cover his blue-flushed cheeks. Every touch of rain to icy flesh froze the flecks of water into tiny globules that rolled down that doll-like creature’s face. Hands slid back into the pockets of his trenchcoat, fingers running over the smooth LCD surface of his cellphone. Plump, ashen lips curled into a defined pout as the blonde’s mind settled on his forthcoming actions. He tipped his head back to look up at the dark skies, silently sending apologies to his Mother and Father before grabbing his cellphone and dialing the first number that popped into his mind.
After a few rings, his Sire’s answering machine asks him to leave a message. With a deep breath, Nephriel spoke into the device in a calm tone.
“Ve, I want you to zero me. I need to take torpor.” He murmured, eyes lifting to spot the tavern of the suburbs. His eyebrows furrowed in a sudden thought… he knew Vex would try to talk him out of it. He knew the vampyre would succeed.
“Nevermind… I'll see you in two weeks, Ve. And even if I don't show it… I love you, old man.” He sighed into the phone, hanging up quickly before dialing another number he knew off by heart.
Answering machine again. Good.
He left a small message for his partner-bound explaining his situation the best he could before shutting his phone off and slipping through the doors of the tavern. He looked around briefly before slipping off to the side where he recognized the familiar face of a friend.
She would do it.
"I want you to send me to torpor."
"Why?"
"Because I need the rest."
She blinked and nodded but remained otherwise compliant.
"I don't know if I have enough weapons. But I'll do what I can."
"Alright, babe. I love you."
And with a kiss to her cheek, he led the woman out through the back doors of the bar, onto the drizzling streets of RavenBlack City.
The blonde male slips out of his coat and white, button-down shirt, looking back up to the fair face of the female.
"Ready?"
He nodded and no sooner had he done so, the contents of a vial of Holy Water is splashed on his half-naked form. The initial pain was excruciating, the burns of the substance peeling off layers of pallid skin from his chest. But it wasn’t enough… the Holy Water didn’t weaken him as much as something else might.
“Do you have GS? It might be more effective.” He muttered, doubling over from the blows.
She nodded and pulled out a few canisters warily.
So far so good.
“When I hit zero, I want you to get out of there as fast as you can and don't tell anyone about this.”
She nodded again.
The Garlic Spray hurt a lot more… the gaseous fluid singed the meat off his bone. It wasn’t a sort of ache he had felt before; the sensation of his skin burning to a crisp and his flesh shriveling up under it. He took what he deemed to be his punishment silently, letting the vampyress finish the job with a few Garlic Sprays.
“I’m out…”
From his knelt position on the wet streets, Nephriel nodded his lowered head.
“I'll see you in two weeks, love. Thank you. Now, get your ass outta there.” He muttered in a hoarse tone. The ice-encrusted wounds soothed the pains of bloodloss but limited his mobility. The burning smell of his flesh and garlic made his stomach turn; his head had begun to spin, white eyes dimming sufficiently before he fell forward onto his hands and knees before his limbs fail to support him and he falls to the wet ground.
“Rest well.” She knelt down and kissed his cheek gently before she was gone.
“I will, love…” he murmured with a small smile, eyelids finally falling shut over dull eyes.
OOC notes:
You are the vampire Nephriel (if this is not you, log out).
You have drunk no pints of blood.
Your rank is Fresh Corpse - next rank at one pint.
Attacked per request.
Nephriel will be taking torpor from today (Wednesday, June 24th, 2009) to Wednesday, July 8th, 2009.
Conditions of torpor;
1) No bodily contact due to weakened physical state.
2) No robbing vampires.
3) Drinking from humans only until he has 250 blood pints.
4) Speaking only if necessary.
5) No posting in forums/newspapers.
Basically, I prefer to keep RP at a minimum. Thank you and sorry for any inconvenience.
~ Arni.