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The Art of Civility

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The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Wed May 16, 2012 8:58 pm

The sun was hidden behind a layer of clouds per usual in what many called the "dreary city" of Moscow. For the tall, dark-haired man striding down the street with a young girl towards the hospital, it was home. His crimson eyes seemed cold and piercing even though he wasn't even trying, his expression as impassive and unreadable as ever. He looked rather strange next to the young girl holding his hand, her hair also long and dark though her eyes were a grey to match the sky. It was time for another one of Sveta's check ups and so he walked her through the automatic doors, greeting the woman behind the desk with his deep baritone voice. Aye, he did not seem Drachman in the slightest, but he cared not. He was their Head of Defense, and he was loyal to his country and its people. What else mattered besides that hm?

A nurse came up to take Sveta to her doctor's room, the young girl turning to him as he crouched down and stared her in the eye. "Do you want me to go with you?" He asked her softly, the young girl shaking her head slowly as she patted him on the head. "Nope. Will you wait for me?" He nodded slowly, Sveta returning the gesture before she walked away with the nurse to her room. Slowly rising, Zabulon sighed lightly and removed his long black fleece coat, hanging it on a row of coat hooks before taking a seat in the waiting area. His clothes were black and oddly dressy. A black button up with a crimson tie and black slacks over black boots. His hair was tied back in a ponytail with a thin red ribbon keeping it in its ponytail.

He was a bit more on edge and focused than usual, folding his hands in his lap as he glanced at the tables with their boring magazines to read. A war was coming. Another one, one where they would get to strike at Amestris as they had struck their country. It both excited him, and concerned him. Were they even ready to launch a counter-attack? They were still in the throws of rebuilding their city, and their forces were recovering. He had to wonder what was going through the minds of those now in charge of the city, these.... RIOTE people. Sighing heavily, he found a newspaper amongst the clutter on the table to his left, opening it to read it rather boredly.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Wed May 16, 2012 11:52 pm

This.. couldn't be.... It wasn't fair.. Valeria felt a stabbing pain in her very heart. She had one apparently, but that black-hole that usually felt nothing was now surrounded by itself and slowly she was being swallowed whole. Depression? Was that this feeling? That didn't feel pleasant at all. Slowly it would drain into rage and denial. No.... No... NO NONONO! Her face was blank as her eyes stared with no soul at the man before her. This couldn't be right. He was a LIAR. A fucking LIAR made to harm Val. That had to be it and yet.. it made sense. How could she ignore the signs? Her hands wrapped around her stomach and her eyes clenched tight.

His calls to her were barely there over her rage. Indeed it was like trying to speak above a siren. Such confusion in her mind while her whole being raged. The woman felt an urge to kill the man. How dare he tell her such lies? It was DISGUSTING. That filth would pay dearly for what he had said to her. He would SUFFER for the indignity, the audacity!

"Miss, Are you okay?" He would ask calmly, his hand resting on her lap. "If you want, I can get the therapist in he-" Luckily the man could speak Cretan. Val knew so little of this Drachman language.

"-There's no need for that, sir." Her voice said with such a sweet smile. The hiss of death audible while her eyes closed to hide the extreme HATE she felt for this man. It took everything within her to keep from slaughtering him. Her hand grasping his, while prying it off. Her body standing to her feet. The soft sliding as stopped as his hands kept her there.

"Ma'am. I don't believe you are well enough to-" He had started before he was rudely interrupted.

"-GO AWAY!" She screamed at the man. Her voice louder than intended. Her hands moved to rest on her face while she took a deep breath. It was building. The dam was overflowing and this man.. needed to go before she snapped his neck. Needless to say as soon as she had screamed at him, his body scrambled for the door. Her check-up had been fine, she was mostly well, so why had she been so upset? That news that landed so harshly on a woman. Another thing had been stolen and she could never get it back.

Why did that man have to take EVERYTHING from her? It just added while the tears oddly began to fall off her pale face. It was unlike her.. especially in public. Now she was bawling in public. Silver ribbons streaking her cheeks with each passing second. Her pride stolen away with a door shut to the world. She was human, but she was also a demon. These actions.. they weren't to be allowed and yet... she was doing it. A sob escaped her throat and for a good fifteen minutes the cries escaped with no sort of blockade. It would be stocked though. Her mind behind such a mask she always needed. Drying her eyes on her left sleeve, she would hop down from the seat and look around in a daze.

How off, she felt so.. anemic. Her body wobbled as she kept control of the faucets and yet had no control on her body. It was barely seen as walking when she came to the waiting room and took a deep breath. She had to calm herself, she looked a mess. A blank stare, so unlike her. No one bothered her, no one even seemed to look her direction and at that time, she didn't care. That was until her lack of attention had left her to slipped and fall into the wall. A hard gasp escaping her lips while her body had fallen backwards. The whole of her back and head slamming into the wall and earning a soft groan from the woman. That.. was kind of painful.

She simply sat there a moment, in a daze before letting off a chuckle and standing up. Look at me, I'm a mess. She would swear at herself while dusting her outfit and fixing herself into a standing position. The clerk gave her an odd look, but Val simply smirked at him and he shut up and looked away. I am tougher than this.. I can make it home...

.....................................................................................................................................


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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Thu May 17, 2012 1:26 am

It seemed as if the Eastern districts were still suffering the most difficulties with the reconstruction and he could hardly be surprised. That and the south got hit by the most grenades. The outer cities were still trying to recover and refugee's were-

"-GO AWAY!"

Zabulon's eyebrow raised at the faint echoes of the shout because he had understood it, and it wasn't Drachman. That was Cretan. What was a Cretan doing here? And why were they screaming at their doctor? He sighed lightly and was about to go back to reading when a figure came slowly walking down the hall in a sort of delirium of distance, the woman quite obviously off in her own thoughts. A hospital normally gets a lot of people in a day so why should he assume that it was her that shouted in that foreign tongue here? Probably because of her demeanor. His eyes glanced to her before seeming to return to his paper, but he was observing her out of his peripheral vision. Normally he did not butt into peoples business since it was rude to, but he was debating making an exception for this particular instance since she was so.... unstable.

Thud. The paper lowered again, his entire face visible now as he gazed at her, his eyes following her as she sank to the floor. Everyone else in the room was trying to ignore her with every ounce of their being, not wanting to end up involved or avoid any possible unpleasant situations. Cowards. Her one arm came up and wiped at her eyes. She had been crying, or close to it. The chuckle didn't fool him even as she rose, the paper getting folded and placed back on the table as he too rose. Walking up to her, he cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back, standing up tall and straight. "Excuse me miss, but are you alright?" He asked her, his Cretan laced with a Drachman accent. It was good to see that the language wasn't too rusty on his tongue even though it had certainly been a long time since he spoke it.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Thu May 17, 2012 8:16 pm

"Excuse me miss, but are you alright?"

Well it seemed someone had decided to address her. Someone was in for a sour look and a tone that could kill. Of course, Val was never really the type to be blatantly rude. This situation would be a rare instance. Her lip twitched with a soft smirk while she adjusted her shirt and fixed her skirt before turning those violet orbs to the man. Did he WISH to be chewed up? Confronting a witch in a foul mood? Surely he was dense. Then again, he probably didn't know who or WHAT she was.Internally she was highly amused and even chuckling. The pathetic fool had the audacity to approach her when she didn't invite him. Was this a kindness or was he picking on her? Oh sweet paranoia.

He did have good posture and he was speaking rather kindly.. wasn't he? Her eyes were suspicious and still blank. Why couldn't she think straight This man sure was a beauty but she'd talk to all sorts of men. It had to have been her mentality. For now she was hurt and upset. Though it was an uncommon situation, it had happened. Her mind had suddenly shut off when she went to speak and slowly she looked away with a snort. "Not that it would matter to you if I WAS well." Her usual smile on her face while she leaned a bit on the wall. "So don't concern yourself in things that don't matter to you."

She didn't know the language around these parts. She was in fact a Cretan-Esparian, the fact she was even in Drachma was due solely to to being in RIOTE. Her hands suddenly clenched on her stomach. This pain! It was as if a little monster was eating away at her insides. A brief trickle of pain starting down her face while she gasped out and panted a bit from trying to restrain it. The pain was excruciating and yet, it was not pleasant in the least. Her eyes shut tight while she tried to control herself. Clearly, she was not okay. However, Val was never the type to allow others to help her. Though her soul called desperately for assistance, she was closed off from most around her.

.....................................................................................................................................


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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Mon May 21, 2012 10:54 am

As expected, the woman seemed less than pleased to be bothered as she adjusted herself before turning to face him. He could see the pain in her eyes, the annoyance, but he could also see something that was familiar to him. Something that had once been in his own gaze when he had been but an urchin on the street fighting the world in order to stay alive. A wish to be noticed, to have someone reach out that hand that never seemed to come. She was clearly suspicious of him, and he could not blame her for it wasn't often that strangers went up to a person and asked them how they were doing in a tongue that wasn't native to the land in the least bit. She snorted and couldn't retain his gaze, "Not that it would matter to you if I WAS well." His head tilted ever so slightly at that particular comment, remaining silent as she continued, "So don't concern yourself in things that don't matter to you."

Ah. So she was that sort of person. Very well. He began to formulate a response when she suddenly doubled over in pain, gasping at the suddenness of it. And yet he did not move. His expression didn't even change as he stared at her clutching at her stomach so. Then he slowly bent down ever so slightly and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "If I did not care about the answer, then I would not have asked." He spoke to her softly in his deep voice, straightening up and looking to the front desk. One of the people behind it looked up and he beckoned them forth, the man seeming to understand the silent call for a nurse. A woman slowly approached seconds later, Zabulon taking a small step back to account for room though his hand did not leave Val's shoulder. "What is wrong? Do you want me to call a doctor?" The woman's eyes looked over Valeria from the hands at her stomach to the face that was scrunched up in pain. "Can you move? Or shall I get a wheelchair so we can get you to a room?"

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Tue May 22, 2012 1:05 am

A hand was upon her and Val shirked. Her whole body tensed and she was cast into a world of debating on slicing off his hand or turning to him and crying on his shoulder. That would be the expected reaction. The woman chose neither of those. Instead she hiccuped. That was all, she hiccuped then looked away. He spoke in some language she didn't understand what he said. That made her upset, of course, but she controlled her impulses. Control.. hold steady... control. She chanted in her head while her mind slowly allowed the hand to hold on her shoulder. It was a come to terms sort of thing.

"You speak in foreign. I don't understand you." her voice spoke a grumbled death while people crowded her. She would glare poisonous daggers while shaking. This.. was.. unacceptable! Her fury blazed wildly while the pain was more from her heart than her stomach. She was going to be sick though. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" Valeria demanded as she stood up and slumped against this man, breathing heavily. Please, get them away from me. I want to be away from people. " Her request was a harsh whisper on his ear. She didn't want the people to freak out too bad for being yelled at. With a soft breath, she clenched her chest and glared death at the people around her. This was all too familiar for her liking.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Wed May 23, 2012 11:04 am

Zabulon's eyebrows raised at her shriek and he ended up freezing up rather than removing it for fear of upsetting her further. "You speak in foreign. I don't understand you." Ah fuck. Cretan. She spoke Cretan, do not fall into the trap of auto-pilot. A grimace began to crease his handsome features, soon masked over by the impassivity that usually encased his entire being. His eyes began to dart to the people who were now paying attention to this scene and it made his brows furrow ever so slightly which was never a good sign. He was beginning to feel annoyance for those prying eyes, the eyes of those who truly did not really care about how this woman was doing. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" The nurse immediately backed off and left them alone, running off to wherever else she needed to be at that particular moment.

So Zabulon was rather surprised when all of a sudden he felt this almost hysterical woman press against him, his eyes widening at the odd sensation. "Please, get them away from me. I want to be away from people. " The initial shock gone, his slowly wrapped an arm about her shoulder and straightened up to his full height which always seemed to intimidate people a bit. "Of course, please forgive my earlier blunder." He began to lead her out of the waiting area, grabbing his coat along the way, and out those doors into the cold of the Drachman air. He led the pair of them away from people and brushed off a bench nearby for her to sit down on. He perched there next to her and wrapped his coat about her, staring with not an intense gaze (for that was common with him), but an even rarer one. It was a gaze of gentle worry. The look in his eyes did not really reach the rest of his face or his posture, but it was there in those crimson depths as he looked at Valeria in his concern.

"If you need to, bend and let your head hang between your legs and breathe." He spoke softly, pausing before he placed a hand upon her shoulder again. "What I said earlier, was that if I did not care, I would not have asked. So I will ask again, what is wrong? You may take your time."

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Wed May 23, 2012 12:14 pm

Valeria could only internally grin as the woman ran away. The stomach pain in her was ill-located from the pain in her chest. That tension; the pressure building and making her stomach churn uncomfortably. Sickness swept her and her fists clenched so tight the white knuckles were blaring. Skin stretched so tight, she thought it would rip open and yet it still wasn't enough to make her breathe again. Tension that swallowed her heart in a deep shadow was preventing her from breathing. Pain was the only release. Absent-mindedly she would dig her nails into her own flesh, hoping a pool of blood might fall. Hurt me. I need pain, distraction.. Yet she internally knew that would sate her. The silent voice turned her attention to the man. She could hurt him.. take it out on him.. Make him suffer like all the rest. Her hand wanted to reach and slowly it did, but instead she found herself half-clinging to the man. Tears still buried in her eyes. Life was unfair. First the news now she had to deal with someone who cared.

Despite the inner rage she felt, she found in the eyes of this man, someone sadder than her. Could those eyes see right through her? Red pools just like blood, the blood that trickled down her fingertips, dripping a bit upon the ground. Her violet orbs would be stuck on those eyes, pain in them despite the unresponsive face; a mask. Something struck Val in the heart and she couldn't breathe in the slightest. Her face was red and a blank mind claimed her. A mask.. just like me. How can he- Why does he-? Her mind was a dance of empty twirls. Reoccurring thoughts that gave no answer just to come back around again. Reeling... forever racing for the finish line and it seemed Valeria's game was completely off today. Only one other had seen that look on her face of such despair and confusion.. that night. The night she had tried to kill herself. The feel of cold steel was hallucinated on her skin and she imagined the thrill of pulling the trigger. Oh the bliss of crimson striped walls. However, something kept her on earth, perhaps she sought redemption? No, there was no redemption for demons.

"What I said earlier, was that if I did not care, I would not have asked. So I will ask again, what is wrong? You may take your time."

"Why? Why do you care?" Her voice finally managed while her head fell between her legs. Those long fingers blocked her red face from view. Wait had she blushed? That seemed.. illogical. He just seemed like he could see through her. Through the mask she held. A face of a sweet and innocent woman was so easily shattered. Was he her hunter? The one the devil sent to take her to Hell now? She could feel herself falling to the burning fire. That never-ending flame that scorched her whole being. A quick blink and she had returned to earth a faint sound of a screech only in her head. That side of her.. was fighting the other side.

Another touch had sent lightning through her. It struck her head to toe and filled her mind with static. Chewing her bottom lip rather deliberately, she could feel the vague sensation of her blood decorating her face. How was it to be explained? Where was she to start? "The world.. is harsh and unyielding. I suppose I should have expected such a thing." She finally managed to create a sentence. Liking the way it felt on her sore lip, she would take a shaky breath and straighten up a bit. Her head wasn't between her legs. "A man took everything from me, years ago. I just found out as well, I can't have a family." Her face was a bit red. Did it sound dumb? She felt like a young child all of a sudden. She wanted a child and couldn't. Without the help of surgery, she would be barren. It was unfair that he could take THAT away from her as well.

Drip. A tear had fallen from her face again. Angrily she wiped it away. Damn her hormones, she didn't want to seem so weak. This time it was not a fake cry, this time, it was a true feeling that had rooted in her heart. That buried emotion that begged to flood out. It was only then she had noticed his jacket over her arms and her pitiful eyes moved slowly to embrace his. A woman who had lost everything before him. Those eyes seemed to beg for something but she couldn't tell what. What did her eyes scream so desperately at him. 'Help.'

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Wed May 23, 2012 2:24 pm

It was now that Zabulon took full stock of the woman in front of him, smelling the acrid metallic smell of fresh blood very faintly upon the air. He knew it well enough to identify it amongst the crisp cold air, fresh and new against the fading cleaner smells from the hospital. He did not judge her choice of relief, nor the tears that spilled forth from her. She was a person in great pain whom had received news she did not want to hear. The nature of the news could vary so widely when it came from a doctor so he did not even try to take a guess as to what in the world it could be. Oh dear, he hoped that Sveta wasn't done her appointment yet, since he told her he would wait for her to be done. No matter, he would deal with that bridge when he came to it, for now this woman was his main concern. He still hadn't gotten her name, no matter. His eyes flickered to the droplets that fell from her fingertips to the white snow, staining it the same crimson of his eyes, raising his gaze back to the woman's. What he saw there, he knew very well.

Pain. Pain was what he was met with, overwhelming her and stabbing her so deeply. "Why? Why do you care?" Zabulon straightened up as he shifted how he sat upon the bench beside her, his hand not leaving her shoulder as his crimson eyes turned now to the streets beyond them. Still being rebuilt, still healing from the wound Amestris and their allies had caused. He sighed heavily before he answered her, "I care because I see in you what someone saw in me a long time ago." A cryptic answer, but he felt that it said enough. Some things would never change about him no matter what situation he found himself in. He would always speak when he felt he should, say exactly as much as he felt should be said, and remain silent otherwise. Perhaps it was because of his life on the streets when no one would have listened anyways, or perhaps it was his militaristic upbringing. His adoptive mother and him never seemed to need to exchange any extra words, only the ones that were necessary.

Again the smell of blood reached his nostrils and his focus returned to her, tilting his head ever so slightly to search for the source of that metallic smell. He did not lean around or anything to try to gaze at her face, and he did not dare move her hair for she seemed liable to attack him if he did that. One thing at a time. It seemed she was accepting of his hand on her shoulder at least for the moment so he would leave things at that. If he saw a sign for further contact, then he would. "The world.. is harsh and unyielding. I suppose I should have expected such a thing." Indeed it was, he knew that quite well. Her back straightened more and he could see another pitter of blood drip from her chin. It was her lip this time. "A man took everything from me, years ago. I just found out as well, I can't have a family."

That was an answer he had not expected, but he understood it completely. His expression darkened for a moment for there were some things in this world that he could not abide in the least bit. He was the Head of Defense for Drachma, and he did all he could to ensure that its people were safe. So for a single persons defenses to be broken and harm done to them caused him to feel the sharp prick of anger. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and gazed gently upon this woman whom was denied the possibility of a child. Unless..... His other hand procured a handkerchief from a pocket and offered it to her, meeting her gaze evenly and without pity. Pity was not what she needed. "I'm sorry." He murmured, the thought that had struck him beginning to only grow in its certainty. "Is there no possibility of other methods? Invitrofertilization?" His low voice merely rumbled ever so softly, truly hoping that he was not offering her a hope that was not there. For any hope in that situation was better than nothing.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Wed May 23, 2012 3:31 pm

"I care because I see in you what someone saw in me a long time ago." Words like a blade cut in her. There it was, the reason she was utterly helpless before the man. The gates were broken to her soul and she was vulnerable. She spent so much time working to make her defenses stronger than carbon steel. A refined diamond case, beautiful but impenetrable. A woman whom had no means of letting others in and no use of it. Adryion had been the first batter at the crystal box and though it seemed so sturdy, it was slowly crumbling. The fragile thing that lived in her chest was exposed before this man who knew not even her name. For once, she felt swept off her feet as if by a wave and her heart hammered excitedly. Warmth filled her, head to toes.

A sort of tingling filled her body and her throat constricted some. At least, that's what she felt. It was odd, falling for the trap. So easy did she feel like she was captured by his words. Someone who cared for others? This was ridiculous. At least for her. Her violet eyes adverted a moment and she could feel those eyes still on her. B-BMP B-BMP. Blood pulsed angrily in her ears, drowning out some sound. Her heart needed to quiet. It was way too loud, a creaking door on a silent night.

A cloth was in his hand and offered unto her. Valeria remained surprised and a bit disoriented. What.. was the cloth for? She'd never been handed a handkerchief in her life, so a hesitant hand reached and touched it softly. The gentle caress of her the cloth made her heart skip a beat. Why was he being so nice? Her eyes searched his for sympathy or pity, she saw none, only a bit of sprinkled pain in his soul's orbs. It was not pity she sought and she was grateful to not have that. She wanted revenge in all honesty, but a solution worked better, if there was one to be.

"Is there no possibility of other methods? Invitrofertilization?" Her eyes sat upon him and she looked away. Yes.. there was a chance. Yet she... "It would require surgery." Her words started. "I don't trust. Doctors." She blatantly replied with a panic and fury in her eyes. She could die. They could kill her. She did not trust her life in a man's hands, nor a woman's. Especially not someone she never even met.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Wed May 23, 2012 10:20 pm

Had he cut her too deeply without meaning to? Was he harming her by extending this hand of friendship? Wait.... In his mind he straightened up in slight confusion, for that was exactly what he was doing. It was like what he saw when he found Sveta and saved her from those soldiers. He had found this woman, and extended his hand to aid her in her pain. Heh... He was gathering lost souls, saving them from the emptiness of a lonely world. Just like he had been saved. Was this his purpose in life? To offer the hand that had been extended to him to others? To keep them, and his country, safe from invaders? Maybe... He would have no complaints if this were the case. It was oddly... calming. Satisfying. Marynia would approve as well for it was getting him away from work. He had not forgotten when she had tried to get him to drink right after the war, the words that they had exchanged about Marismo.... Poor girl still hadn't been found and now he was beginning to accept that they wouldn't be able to save her.

But in any case, that was another matter entirely. For now, he was noticing an increase in Valeria's movements, noting her initial confusion at the handkerchief that he offered her. "For your eyes, or the blood. It is alright." He explained as she examined him so thoroughly, part of his mind pondering how suspicious she must be. Clearly no one had done this for her before in her life otherwise she would not have been so shocked. It was somehow... endearing? It reminded him of his initial hesitance to Svetlana Goncharova when she first plucked him from the streets and into her life. Of course he had been a child then, a child trying to understand what was expected of him now and how to live his new life. Yes, he would gladly be the hand that reached out to those that needed it.

At his question, she looked away from him, was the response bad? "It would require surgery." Oh, excellent. Then what was- "I don't trust. Doctors." -the issue. That... would do it. He nodded slowly once and turned so he was facing straight ahead, leaning against the snowy back of the chair without fear of getting wet or cold. He had grown up wearing a lot less. "I know some very excellent doctors in this hospital that I can recommend to you. They take care of my adoptive.. daughter." He still wasn't used to saying that word, to even the concept of him being a father. Though the girl seemed almost able to take care of herself. "I can aid you in this if you wish." Oh. They still hadn't introduced each other. "I am Zabulon Goncharovich, Head of Defense for Drachma. Forgive my late introduction." He extended his hand to her, his upper body turning to face her with a small bow of his head.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Fri May 25, 2012 12:06 am

Crimson. The color she needed was crimson. For some reason, Valeria couldn't breathe. Her chest was tense once more. Soft rasps fell from her, a panic in her body. Crimson. That color, she desired. Make me bleed, make it dye the floor. Why was she so desperate? Her hand gripped at her chest as if in pain and she couldn't concentrate. the man was not there for that moment. Concentration was lost and she was in an alternate world. Black that needed red roses upon it. Why her? Why did SHE need to hurt? The way her heart beat was as if a constant drumming was in her ribs. Painful drumming that left her in the midst of weakness. Bleed. The voice started again. Make the flesh part and pour onto the pavement. Wring the bodies dry, start with him and slaughter them all. Then finally, finish with yourself. Blood.

Her heart hurt so much, her whole chest. A red on her face and a bit of sweat broke out on her brow. Though she was trying to be quiet, she would release a raspy and pained breath. What was this beast devouring her? Something eating at her slowly; shrouding her in that blanket of devilish darkness. Taking control of the chains on her, she looked at him and took the hanky with hesitance. Her hands moved sloppily to wipe the blood from her face and cheeks.

"I know some very excellent doctors in this hospital that I can recommend to you. They take care of my adoptive.. daughter. I can aid you this if you wish." He stated as she would look at him with a hesitant breath. She felt like she was hyperventilating. The world was painful to her. What was this problem she was having.

"I am Zabulon Goncharovich, Head of Defense for Drachma. Forgive my late introduction." He stated and held out his hand with a slightest of bows. Her hand hesitantly reached forward to it. A slight blush still upon her and lightning struck through her body. "Oh. I-I'm Valeria Diablos." She stated softly, eyes locked onto him.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Fri May 25, 2012 2:58 pm

She was clutching at her chest, why was she clutching at her chest? Did she have a bad heart? Was it too cold? Had he said something wrong? The thoughts raced about Zabulon's mind while his face was as unreadable as ever, realizing just how little he communicated with people at this point. He was terrible at trying to talk to anyone, much less comfort them. Give him a nation to maintain, and he could do that. But the individuals within the nation? He.... always ended up at a loss. Like he had been taught how to deal with people when he grew up. Not on the level that this woman before him required. His eyes followed her as she dabbed at her cheeks and lip, not really caring if he got the handkerchief back or not. He had plenty and they were cheap enough to buy.

Her hand felt small within his own as he gave a small shake with a firm grip. She was blushing, did she have a fever? Or was it... something else? "Oh. I-I'm Valeria Diablos." He nodded his head once more and let go of her hand, lifting it to touch the back of his hand to her forehead to test her temperature. No, she was about normal, then it must be something else. His hand lowered back into his lap. "A pleasure Valeria. You are not Drachman. Esparian?" He inquired, brows furrowing as his mind quickly ran through the possibilities of countries of origin at the sound of her name. Da, had to be Esparia. But now he shifted in his seat once more, turning more to face her as she still seemed to clutch at her chest, his gaze inadvertently regaining the intensity that it normally bore. "Are you quite alright? We can go back inside and I can call those doctors to have a look at you." He wanted to be absolutely sure that she was fine, not quite occurring to him what the other full possibility could be.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Sat May 26, 2012 2:25 am

"A pleasure Valeria. You are not Drachman. Esparian?"

Drachman? Was that the God-forsaken language, these damn people spoke? Her mind sort of bustled and she furrowed her brow. These people spoke a language she didn't know, no wonder this man had slipped up earlier. Of course this was simply common sense, however after Val's recent terror of what had happened, she wasn't exactly sure on how things worked. With mind a bit vague, she blinked away the confusion and found herself slowly recovering. A slow and shaky breath followed while she eyed him with eyes that reeked of suspicion. It wasn't anything personal, Val never trusted anyone. When it came down to it, the only man who ever held her attention long enough to gain her trust, had been her pet.

Ah.. This man.. he would be the death of her. "Are you quite alright? We can go back inside and I can call those doctors to have a look at you." Her heart skipped a beat. Oh come now, this wasn't physical pain, surely he could see? No, this man was dense, he couldn't see THAT kind of pain as easy as most. Her voice heaved a heavy sigh as she avoided his eyes. They were charming. Those delicious orbs of a red color that reminded her so much of blood and bleeding. Her heart hammered excitedly at the thought. Blood on her hands, on her lips. A shaky and satisfied breath, yet she stared away, as if she'd never seen a man more attractive.

Truly this man was thoroughly arousing to her, but she was in no mood to try and sleep with him. After what she had found out, she didn't have much of any mean-ness in her. Perhaps she needed bad news more often. "No. I'm fine." She would start before jumping out on a limb. "Will you teach me your language?" It simply spilled out. She wanted to know. "And yes, my native tongue is Esparian. Good ear." She managed a weak laugh, finally managing to control her wild heart.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Guest on Wed Jun 06, 2012 10:54 am

His crimson orbs pierced into her as he tried to detect any signs of illness within her. The only other reason for flushed cheeks was blushing which meant embarrassment. But what could she be embarrassed about? A single eyebrow raised as he took note of the suspicion within her gaze. So she didn't trust him hm? He could not blame her. He did not trust many people when he had been in her position all those years ago. The eyebrow lowered and his expression went back to one of neutrality, clasping his hands in his lap as he awaited her answer. She seemed to be doing better since she wasn't clutching at her chest anymore, but he couldn't help and wonder. He was the Head of Defense, he never accepted a "fixed" problem at face value. He had to have absolute proof that things were A-Ok. If he didn't get that confirmation, then he would work until he did.

His head tilted ever so slightly as she looked away from him, wondering if he had said something wrong. Had he offended her? Was there something about his appearance that upset her? He knew some people questioned his long hair, but he preferred it that way for reasons that were his own. "No. I'm fine." He nodded once, that was good to hear. Although he wasn't quite ready for her sudden question that followed, "Will you teach me your language?" He stared at her evenly, searching her face to be sure that she understood what that meant. Drachman was not an easy language and it was unforgiving if you messed it up. "And yes, my native tongue is Esparian. Good ear." He straightened up, brushing a couple of long strands back from his face as he lowered his gaze for all of a couple of seconds, those crimson orbs finding her once more.

"Thank you. I can teach you Drachman, yes. If you wish to begin now, we merely have to wait for Sveta to get done-" A young girl with long black hair and soft grey eyes came walking out of the front doors just as he said that, glancing around until she noticed him sitting there with a strange woman. She walked up and wrapped her small arms around his, staring up solemnly to Valeria. There was an understanding in her gaze that was uncanny for a girl of seven, blinking once before she looked up to Zabulon, "I'm good. Who is this?" She asked him in Drachman, not realizing that the other lady couldn't understand them. Zabulon's expression seemed to somehow soften yet retain its impassivity as the young girl held onto his arm, "This is Valeria Diablos. She will be learning Drachman with you. She speaks Cretan which I have begun to teach you. Can you speak it?"

Sveta blinked and turned back to Valeria, holding out her small hand to the woman. "My name is Sveta Goncharovna. A pleasure to meet you." She introduced herself with a Drachman accent, but it was Cretan nonetheless. Zabulon actually cracked the smallest hint of a smile, feeling a sense of pride arise within him as his adoptive daughter spoke so well in the foreign tongue. His eyes raised back to Valeria as he addressed her again, rising up from the bench while taking one of Sveta's hands. "Shall we?" He asked, awaiting Valeria's response before they went off to his humble home.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Emmelin on Fri Jun 08, 2012 12:12 pm

"Thank you. I can teach you Drachman, yes. If you wish to begin now, we merely have to wait for Sveta to get done-" The man had agreed. For a moment, Valeria felt.. happy. Is that what it was called? When excitement fluttered in her chest and for once, she hadn't needed to manipulate to make friends. It was so easy. Half of her was disgusted, but the other half had reached out desperately. A side of her had been crying out for some time, but that little girl had been drowned in sadism. Torture took place of playing with dolls and killing, it replaced her sleep. When was the last time she HAD slept? Nowhere was safe.

Even as she went to stand, her body stumbled and her eyes sagged. Nowhere was safe. Adryion wasn't here. He was the only one she trusted to be around while she slept. Anyone else would take advantage and probably try and kill her while she slumbered. How long.. had it been? Her eyes were heavy and she couldn't help but rub one eye in an automatic reaction. They burnt. It had been a long way there, and longer still had she been before she left. She supposed about three days. How did she even manage to stay awake? There were days she had just dozed off for a few minutes it helped, but soon it seemed, she would need to get some well-needed slumber. A sleeping binge, amusing as it was.

She looked at the man with a drowsy smile. It was unwise that she had cried and freaked out, now she was even more sleepy. Her usual aggressive nature toned down to a dull hatred to most things. She could see a small girl run p to him and whether it was the sleepiness in her head, or actually true, they mumbled some gibberish and then it was all crystal clear again. It took a second to register, but it seemed they had been speaking in that foreign tongue of Drachman. "My name is Sveta Goncharovna. A pleasure to meet you." Pain stabbed at Val. Father and daughter? They looked a lot alike. Family. Why did she have to hold such a choice of a doctor or being without one. Pain, it struck at her. Because of THAT man, she couldn't have a child without intervention. She hated him more. She wished he could come back, just so she could kill him again.

Val watched the man move in a bit of a blur. Her mind.. was so lost. She couldn't focus in the slightest. The world was a great spray of fog. "Shall we?" Her attention dragged back to him. Eyes of purple analyzing his question. This was her last chance to falter and fall back. Perhaps it was time.. to give life a chance. Shakily she took a step to the man and nodded. Forgetting to introduce herself to the girl, she gave a warm smile. "Hello, sweetie. I'm Valeria. It's nice to meet you." One thing about Val, she had a weakness for children. She guessed it spurred from wanting a child, herself. Either way, she followed the man.

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Re: The Art of Civility

Post by Shula Brighton on Sun Jun 24, 2012 8:27 pm

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