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Post by jackson on Jun 16, 2011 3:28:26 GMT
fancy meeting you here.Jackson didn't make a habit of walking down empty alleyways. Especially at night. It just wasn't his thing. He left that up to creepy crawlies and vampire folk. The vampires seemed especially prone to hanging out around such places. Luckily for him, most vampires he'd ever run into, he knew. They were a primarily sane bunch. They understood the natural hierarchy as he did. Humans had their place in society. Even those who wished for their safety should realize that they needed someone to rule over them. To keep them safe and in line. There weren't too many light-minded vampires lurking the alleys at night. In fact, he wasn't sure if he knew any vamps with a different mind set. As it was, he was walking home from his latest trip to the bar. It had been for a light drink. Nothing crazy. At most, he'd reached a light buzz. He simply didn't want to be at home, waiting for Ari to show up randomly as she did.
It had been a fairly tame visit. He'd settled for a couple Guinness's, a change from his usual poison. But as was aforementioned, Jackson hadn't gone into this night with the mind set that he was going to get absolutely smashed. In fact, he hardly ever got too far ahead of himself with alcohol. He had some pretty incredible self-control. A man had tried to strike up conversation--an obviously human man murmuring drunken words like a child with a speech impediment. Jackson had merely nodded the entire time before suggesting to the bartender that he cut the man off. That's when the bartender proceeded to tell the firetamer that the man had been cut off for about an hour and was simply going about the bar, talking up anyone that would listen. Without protest, Jackson stood and dropped his money on the counter, leaving a decently generous tip: sure, the bartender was human but he served alcohol. That put him above the rest of them, didn't it? In some twisted, nonsensical way. It made sense in Jackson's head, anyway.
His footsteps echoed off of the walls in the alley. It was slightly unnerving. After all, if a vampire decided to show up, they'd do it very quietly in hopes that he'd be their next meal. And so he kept alert and silent. Even with his perception slightly off due to the small amount of alcohol he usually had a fairly decent ear. So when he heard the slightest sound, he didn't pause. Most people made that mistake. Any slight noise and a person was likely to stop dead in their tracks. To react to slight sound was a fatal error. So he waited until the noise manifested into something worth fearing. They were fairly arrogant folk, vampires. They would make some sort of dramatic comment before chomping down. By that time, he'd have his hand aflame and all would be settled in moments.
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Post by camille on Jun 16, 2011 4:04:59 GMT
Camille stood over the alley way, just thinking as she sat over the edge, crossing her legs. There were a few other vampires lurking around, waiting for some sort of meal coming around. She fidgeted, the boredom driving her insane as she just leaned forward, her hair shadowing her eyes as she watched a man make his way through the alley. A few vampires on the same building were gathered at a different corner, excluding her. She wondered if there was anything more interesting to do than stay by these ridiculous animals. She knew that she was as well a monster, but she had reasoning behind the things she did unlike these newer vampires, filled with stupidity. She wished she had some sort of clan to belong to because she needed company right now, but worth it company and her patients was dwindling with these idiots. This man was curious, not like the rest of the ones that walked these ways. He never turned back or hesitated, just continued pressing forward.
It was worth a good and bloody shot. "Bottoms up," She said, landing elegantly in a crouch, her landing making a slight sound. Still she gazed as he continued walking at a hurried pace. She smirked, becoming a blur and pulling him back, "Why hello young sir." She purred the words in his ear, "Someone should not be out so late at night walking through an alley way alone." An amused grin came across her expression as she felt the warmth that came from his body. There was the faint scent of alcohol resting on him that mixed with the smell of his skin and blood. There was something faintly familiar about the smell, something that she recognized. Camille turned him around, pinning him to the wall, gazing at his features, her eyes readjusting to the dark. He did not look familiar to her, at least not right away.
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Post by jackson on Jun 16, 2011 23:26:59 GMT
fancy meeting you here.It was always strange, that feeling. Humans tended to describe it as the chills but really that was such a basis description. It was perhaps why so many of them fell victim to vampires. It was a predator type feeling, something that was distinctly different than "the chills." But how was anyone human supposed to be aware of the existence of vampires? That there was a difference to that horrid feeling that they got in the pit of stomachs and the hair that stood on their necks. So when he felt and heard the predator, he made sure not to react as he thought a human would. He didn't want a vampire to make that mistake. And yes, it would be a mistake. Emphasis on the last syllable of the word. There had to be something wooden to impale them with around this alley. It had all manners of garbage and throw away items. Broken furniture. A chair leg would do nicely. Even a wooden bat to keep them at bay for a second. He didn't want to hurt one. But self defense was another matter.
And then suddenly, he felt the hands. His fists clenched and he braced himself as the figure pulled him back with incredible speed. Their speed was incredible, these vampires. The vampiress--and it was female, apparently--pressed him up against the wall and Jackson made sure to keep his head forward, unwilling to crack his skull on the wall behind him. He looked into the young females face and he found familiarity. They'd met. Actually, from what he remembered, they'd hit it off. They didn't really hang out or call themselves great friends but he had enjoyed their similarities. He wracked his brain for a name and finally found it. With a grin, he stared back at the vampire, his eyes glinting mischievously, "Young sir? You flatter me, Camille. The dark apparently does wonders for my complexion, it would seem." He moved his arm and held his hand in front of her face. He put up his index finger and set it aflame. It burned like a small human lighter and Jackson raised a brow, "Now, kindly remove your hands from my shoulders. You have a vice grip. And if you take any of my blood, I'll singe your pretty hair off, sweetheart." He laughed. It was incredible, the places you met old friends.
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Post by camille on Jun 17, 2011 0:28:28 GMT
Camille was stunned slightly as she studied his face and heard his voice, only to hear his threat as she lightened her grip on his shoulders, just staring at the flame. "Oh love, it has been so long. If you set my hair on fire, you might as well just kill me ya know?" She mused as she leaned in and greeted him with a kiss to the cheek, as she released him, giving him some room. "So what's the rush anyways? I was bored so I came to your level," She said as she gazed at him, sighing thoughtfully. She had been meeting so many old friends and every time she saw them, she felt ten times older than she was. She remembered Jackson like it was yesterday when they first met in a pub around this area years ago. He was like her twin, but a male. She always admired him, but ever since she knew him, he was committed to someone else and like herself, she was sure he was independent.
"It has to have been at least seven years," she said as she gazed up at some of the other vampires that were gazing down. "Come with me before you get eyed up any more. I'm the only vampire that should ever be able to touch you," she said with a mischievous grin, joking somewhat as she linked arms with him and began walking in the direction he was originally going. She was surprised of all place to meet him in the alley like this, but you always met people in the most interesting ways.
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Post by jackson on Jun 17, 2011 1:45:11 GMT
fancy meeting you here.Ah, lovely. She was just as he remembered. Quick on the uptake and beautiful to boot. He found that he was frequently reminding himself of Aariana. Sure, Jackson was a bit of a dog, but to be fair, dogs are extremely loyal creatures. But Camille and he, they were brilliant when together. "Oh, I wouldn't have the heart to do you such an injustice." Lies. If she turned on him, he'd kill her in a second. But if he turned on her, she'd do the same. But they were dark-aligned. They looked out for themselves. It was another reason he adored the vampire so much. She was like him. A survivor. Social Darwinism was a thoroughly understood between them both. Which was an incredibly lucky thing: if they weren't so in tune with each other, surely one would end up killing the other. It would be mostly because they'd feel threatened having someone so similar on an opposing side. Perhaps partially because they were both slightly twisted. In a good way though. It was a perfect set up. And really, Jackson did regret not staying in touch with her. His friendship with Allegra was fantastic and even she would admit that her and Allegra shared personality traits. So why not establish some sort of relationship with Camille?
Seven years. God, he felt old. "At least, he agreed. Seven years sounded about right. It didn't sound particularly nice. But it was right. Camille made a crack about her being the only vampire allowed to touch him and Jackson raised his brows. "Oh, my. Mistress Camille, I wouldn't have it any other way." He glanced up into the shadows, vaguely seeing silhouettes of other creatures of the night. It was nothing like Camille's sight. He couldn't see the vampires as well. But he knew that they were there. His perception was very slightly better than that of a human's. Walking alongside the woman, arms linked, he found himself still occasionally glancing up at the eyes that lined the alleyway. "I have to say that I feel like the bell of the ball," he joked, turning to look at his companion. "Where are we off to anyway? I was just on my way home but if you'd rather go somewhere else, well, I wouldn't protest."
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Post by camille on Jun 17, 2011 2:07:41 GMT
Camille smirked and shrugged, "Mistress, another term of endearment." This made her laugh, thinking about other men having mistresses, but the term was more commonly used in the past, even though men still had them these days. She thought about his comment that he would never turn on her and she just rolled her eyes playfully. "For the record, I doubt you'd live up to your word on killing me if I attacked you. If I ever attack you, good riddens," she said, a raised eyebrow as she glanced up at him. They both understood the ways of how evil hierarchy worked and they understood they were both lethal to each other, but they both were prepared. They just fit together like two puzzle pieces or were two peas in a pod. The thought made her smile for a moment, before he said basically he felt like the center of attention which he was. She made a sound of disgust, "Well you are, but unlike them, they will try to eat you alive dear. I at least have the sense to stop myself," she winked at him. "Besides, I couldn't eat something quite so beautiful," She smirked as she saw the age on him, but he was still a very good looking man.
"It's a surprise, besides it's got alcohol there. I hope you don't have anywhere to be tonight because you will be staying with me. We have much to catch up on," she said, as she turned the corner slipping down the road just towards her mansion. For a long moment, she let the silence fill between them. She knew there was some sort of feeling between them, but there was always something that she knew she would never be able to touch him. The emptiness inside of her then reminded her that she might forever be alone, not to find a single soul like Jackson or even himself to partially fill that. She cleared her throat slightly, the silence having tightened it as she asked, "Anything major happen while I was gone?" She ran her free hand through her long black hair for a moment before she guided him up a pathway into a large home. "Tada. Where I'm living currently," She said with a smile as she opened the door that was obviously unlocked and guided him inside.
Notes: So what relationship is he referring to?
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Post by jackson on Jun 18, 2011 5:52:47 GMT
fancy meeting you here.He nodded, inclining his head toward the woman. "Endearments for the endearing," he stated simply. He had a habit of using many terms of endearment on anyone and everyone. Mostly. Utilizing such jargon on the men folk was generally asking for trouble. There was the possibility of insulting one's masculinity, or leading the more receptive audience on, neither of which sounding particularly appealing to him. Quite a few times his habit of using pet names had gotten him into trouble. People tended to be unused to such language and as a result, thought that he was teasing them or any other manner of negative interaction. He'd heard and seen it all. He'd caused a lot of chaos in his day. Jackson nodded as she explained the circle of life to him and he couldn't help but smile. He could never talk like this with Aariana. She wasn't quite the morbid little faerie child that most of her kind tended to be. She didn't have too much patience for Jackson when talk turned to murder and blood. It made her uneasy, he guessed. Reminded her that they were on different sides, most likely. How he would hold on to her was beyond him. Laughing heartily at her compliment, Jackson shook his head, "I don't believe it for a second," he told her, "Has a person ever once refused a dessert because it was too beautifully crafted? Was a cake left whole because the flowers on top were too exquisite for consumption?" Jackson shoved his free hand into his pocket, "No, my dear, the most brilliant culinary creations always end up in the stomachs of admirers. Rather, they are eaten more readily because of their beauty."
It was true. Actually, funnily enough, he remembered hearing that, in ancient times, vampires of royal blood would keep mortals that they found particularly attractive as pets for occasional blood-letting and interior décor. And this was what he thought of as he spoke. History was an interesting beast. She explained that his night now belonged to her and he didn't protest. It sounded like a lovely evening to him. "I wouldn't dream of having it any other way. Especially if alcohol is involved." After a moment, they came up on a rather large and impressive home and Jackson nodded once, almost as if he was expecting such a residence. And well, he was, really. Vampires, having lived for such long amounts of time, had the opportunity to come up in the world at the pace of a normal human's lifetime ten times over. "Beautiful home," he remarked politely and sincerely. It was a lovely abode. Suddenly, Camille's earlier question came to mind and he shrugged. "Nothing seriously different. Although, I think when we last spoke I was dating another woman than the one I have on my arm currently. As it stands I've been gallivanting around with a privileged faerie child. Pretty little thing. Head's filled with fluff. But she means well." He didn't give up Ari's identity. Surely, Camille would realize that the girl did not operate on the same wave length as they did.
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Post by camille on Jun 18, 2011 20:53:49 GMT
Camille smirked at his small saying, always remembering how he had a way with his words. “Oh darling, you do have a way with words, and I’ve missed it greatly, but I do understand your point,” she said, listening to the second thing he said. She knew in the end, they might kill each other if it came down to it. She could see herself doing it to him, and she felt nothing, no guilt from it, because he would do the same thing and sometimes you had to do the impossible. She only smiled softly as he said he would not have it any other way, especially if there was alcohol. “Thank you,” she said to his compliment, listening intently to what he was saying about his new significant other situation, “You do like the pretty ones.” She laughed softly, just teasing him as her arm slipped from him as she flicked on the lights in the kitchen, opening the basement door. There was something concerning her about the girl he spoke of, especially with the words ‘But she means well’. She wondered exactly what that meant coming from him. “Follow me love,” She said, flipping the light switch so it lighted their way down the steps.
Her boots tapped softly against the wooden stairs as she descended into the basement, taking a right as it opened into a nice bar-like setting. There was a wine lattice on the right, far wall, a bar set in the middle of the room, black carpeting, and furniture lingering throughout the room. She turned on this light as well, as she turned to go behind the bar. “So tell me, and I know it’s none of my business, but is this girl that you are dating, is she on the other side?” She asked, having assumed from his earlier words that she was, but she did not want to come to the wrong conclusion. “And what would you like? Wine, beer, special drinks, I have it all most likely,” she said with a wicked smirk as she winked at him, her hands set on the counter and gestured to a seat in front of her. Her hair fell over her shoulders, her white tank cutting to show some cleavage, but not to the point where it was too much.
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Post by jackson on Jun 20, 2011 4:57:59 GMT
fancy meeting you here.A way with words. He made it a point to know the English language inside and out. It got him just what he wanted when he needed it. The power of words was an impressive sort of power and it was incredibly underestimated in the modern day; which was fine by Jackson. If he was among the few that utilized speech as thoroughly as he did then that meant that he was among an elite. And he could live with that. Camille thanked him for his compliment and he nodded his head once toward her before going back to surveying her home. It was a décor influenced by a female keeper, of course, but it was distinguished. Her years of experience showed along with slight Japanese elements. He knew that she had awaken years ago in her country of birth, with no recollection of having been there before and he figured that the decoration was a means of trying to remember, of trying to keep a small part of her before the change alive. Vampirism was a very alien thing to Jackson, a thing that he had once considered, really. But the older he got, the most hesitate he was to pursue such an existence. Jackson chuckled at her next comment and ran a hand through his hair guiltily, "Yes, well. I'm a man who has an immense appreciation for beauty, both physical and interior." He paused for a moment and his smile widened, "Mostly physical, perhaps."
Following her as she indicated, he found himself standing in a prettily crafted bar room. Raising a brow, he found himself wondering whether going out in public for a drink was worth it. Why, he could just waltz into Camille's estate and drink himself silly. He was sure that she wouldn't mind the company. They got along famously, the two of them. Walking over to the bar, he sat himself in the chair directly in front of it. The question she'd asked as he approached had been expected but his expression went blank for a moment, as if in deep thought. "A nice merlot would be just fine. Surprise me. I'm not all that hard to please," he answered her, eyes momentarily flickering to the slightly exposed skin at the top of her shirt before glancing back up at her face. He waited another minute or so before finally answering. "In a manner of speaking. She's young. I don't think that she fully understands the implications of the path that she has chosen. Somehow, she seems to think that there is a chance at peace with these... people." Jackson almost spat out the last word, as if referring to humanity as humane was somehow a contradiction. He'd seen what they could do in their ignorance. "It's a liberal's way of thinking. Probably a sort of pressure she feels to fit in with a majority of her friends and acquaintances." He sighed heavily and ran both hands through his hair, stopping to put pressure against his temples. He looked up at his friend, eyes narrowed, a very slight half-smile on his face, "You can't tell a soul, Camille. If the wrong ears hear, I'll have more to worry about than just hunters and morality toting martyrs. You know that.
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Post by camille on Jun 21, 2011 3:18:29 GMT
Camille smirked as she watched him run his hand through his hair and make his comment about him appreciating beauty, mostly in the physical. “I know that action. There’s nothing to feel guilty in being naturally attracted to a person and making experiences with them because of it,” she said, motioning to him running through his hair. She knew his mannerisms and he knew hers, it was like they could not hide much from each other. Part of her wondered if this woman was getting to him and it would bug her if he turned slightly to the light side, but the two did not mix and she knew he would be one or the other. “Hmmm someone does need a few drinks, don’t they?” She teased as she started over to the gigantic wine rack over to the left. She looked for the wine as her fingers wiggled as though the wine compelled them towards it. “Ah hah!” She squealed softly as she stood on the balls of her feet for a moment and grasped the head of a dark red looking liquid filled wine bottle. “1865. Older than I am,” she laughed as she smirked mischievously as she brought it over, grabbing two wine glasses in one hand and set them down gently. “Every wine bottle has a story, want to know this one?” She asked rhetorically with a wide smirk. “Let’s just say I knew someone from Italy and he had this on his hands. Mmm, Italians always have great taste,” she said, her last statement having a crude double meaning.
Camille found a cork screw, popped the cork out, and poured the wine into each of their glasses. During this process, she listened closely to what he was saying about the girl, making a wince at his mention of his significant other wanting peace with humans. Humans were the lowest level of the food chain aside from animals and it made her disgusted sometimes. Then he ordered basically that she could tell no one, their glances meeting in a very serious gaze, even though he had a smile on his face. She was silent for a moment and just set the wine bottle down before lifting her wine glass, “I promise no one will no about this.” She kept his gaze, being completely honest about this. “But for goodness’ sake, be careful,” she gazed at him, her lips forming a thin, tight line as she took a drink of her wine, moaning softly from the well aged wine.
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Post by jackson on Jun 24, 2011 0:36:29 GMT
fancy meeting you here.Camille was right. She was usually right. She'd live much longer than himself and he had come to the decision that most of what she said was correct. Of all people, someone with her experience should know, yes? He greatly valued the woman's opinion. It certainly was not wrong for him to enjoy the company of the more aesthetically pleasing kind. Although, she could just be saying so to put him at ease. They both knew each other quite well. Why they hadn't pursued their friendship before baffled him. People just grew apart, he supposed. He became busy, she as well. But then, they were reunited now. Perhaps one needn't force these things. They seemed to come together all the same, regardless. The woman remarked on his need for a drink and Jackson snickered in response. "Ah, it's that obvious, is it? I sound like a paranoid and broken man. It's difficult when a person ages, Camille. Each year is another year that I am closer to death and it's not a pretty thought. Of course, you've forgotten what it's like to age. Time stands still for the likes of you. You're just as stunning as you were years ago." While he said this, she had unearthed a bottle of wine and Jackson rolled his eyes as she referenced her age. The pun that she made next had him laughing out loud. God, this woman. Certainly a good one to keep around.
She popped open the bottle as Jackson had explained his situation and had listened the entire time to his words. Camille had always been very good at listening to his problems and offering up her advice in return. And she did give decent advice even if he didn't want it. This time, however, she didn't offered particular advice. Just reassurance. And a warning. Jackson took hold of his glass, giving the dark wine a swirl before stealing a taste. It was well-aged. Deprived of much oxygen, having been bottled for so long. But beautifully done. Camille always knew just what choice worked best. He felt guilty that he had let this get so far. There was a chance that other dark-aligned would not appreciate his being with Ari. For the most part, the light side wouldn't care for it much either. He would have both factions at his neck, calling for his blood to be bottled at the bank and sold as some exotic mixture. "Well, you know me, Camille," he said finally, trying to break the seriousness of the mood, "Always playing with fire."
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Post by camille on Jun 24, 2011 17:20:19 GMT
Jackson’s words sunk into her mind as she just thought about it. It hurt to think she would never know how it feels, and how everyone would be gone. She just set down her wine glass and looked up at Jackson, “I don’t know what it’s like. I don’t remember at all. You know this. I’d give anything to go back and be human and live a normal life. I’d give anything to never have met William and be raised by him. Just remember, living forever is not as bright as it always seems. You lose your friends,” she paused, looking up at him, something sad in her eyes, “You lose your lovers and your alliances. Even if you build new ones, they are never the same. I’d die to know what my mother and father were like,” she said, turning away from him and putting away the cork screw as she just felt suddenly just angry. She was not sure at what, but just maybe it was everything. She turned back around. Camille felt like he only saw the good side of being immortal, but their were bad parts. “You don’t want to know what it’s like to watch someone you love pass on, or even a close friend. I may have a black hole of a heart, but it’s the most horrible thing to witness and even more horrible to reckon with the feelings that come with it after,” she said as she just took another drink of her wine. There was an abnormal seriousness to their conversation, the mood having completely shifted. She was not sorry for what she said because he needed to hear it and understand.
Then, Jackson broke the mood like he always did with his small quirky jokes. She just laughed slightly and came to sit next to him and kissed his cheek gently. It was always a sort of friendly gesture towards him. “Oh how I’ve missed this,” she smirked, taking another drink of her wine. “If you need some help though, let me know. I’m always here to be your assassin,” she said with a grin as she winked at him. She could see them being best friends as people called it if such a thing was really true simply because they understood each other and watched the other’s back. Their friendship was probably abnormal for two dark sided beings, but when you were this well connected with a person, it paid off.
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Post by jackson on Jun 27, 2011 22:13:15 GMT
fancy meeting you here.He adored this girl. Really, he did. But the hypocrisy that she had suddenly spewed in that moment caused his temperature to shoot up. He felt fire boil his blood but outwardly, he showed no sign of his displeasure. The first thing that had struck a chord was her claim that she wished she could go back and be human. That she wished her transformation had never happened. Lies. He knew that it had to be a lie almost instantly. She loathed the human race. Jackson never wished for humanity. Even he, more human-like than Camille, did not wish for humanity for even a second. They both were disgusted by the idea. And then she brought up the desire to know her mother and father, a desire that Jackson could not fully understand being that he thought very little of his parents. His tyrant father, his weak mother; they were nothing to him anymore. Or close to nothing, anyway. But the last part. That was the worst of it. It hit him hard and without mercy, and indeed, though Camille didn't see, under the bar, the hem of his leather jacket sizzled with the slight fire that came suddenly from his torso. He smelled the burnt leather and quickly willed the rest of the burning away. It was his hope that she wouldn't notice. But how dare she tell him that he didn't know what it was like? How dare she? Jackson Bedard who had done and seen enough terrible things to last a life time.
He had inadvertently attacked and scarred a poor, innocent girl with his firetaming and then ran, nearly positive that she was dead. A small time before turning eighteen, he burned his father's home to the ground, hungry for vengeance and some sort of justice for the crimes against him and his mother. He set his father to fire and burned him to near ashes, listening to him scream, angry, hot tears falling from Jackson's face all the while. Before that, he watched his sweet mother, a generous and loving thing, the closest thing to being the only decent human that Jackson had ever met, swing back and forth so subtly by her head, neck bruised and broken from the homemade noose that she had hung from the balcony. She was too pathetic to hold on to life, even for the sake of her son. Add the occasional friend or two that had perished in this god forsaken war and he was a regular veteran. For Camille to suggest that he didn't understand the pain involved in losing others was maddening. It was disgusting. But he didn't show her his anger. He only nodded sadly, absently, pretending to sympathize with her plight in which she was so alone. She knew pain but as per usual with those who had lived hundreds of years, she had forgotten that others had come to befriend that menace as well even in their short lives. He had tried to lighten the mood with his prior comment and she had gone with it. The atmosphere went back to a warm sort of state and Jackson drank his wine, coming down from the high of his frustration a mere moment before. "The feeling is mutual, love. How I lived these years without you by my side was a near miracle." Another sip. "I don't have much need for an assassin as it is but I'd love good company when ever I'm feeling particularly social. Hell. Even if I'm a misanthropic mess I'd enjoy your being around if you don't mind."
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Post by camille on Jun 28, 2011 0:34:30 GMT
Camille ran through her words again, thinking about what she said and wondering if she had truly meant the part about humanity. “Perhaps not so much the humanity as knowing my family. I don’t know what William did, but I don’t remember anything and it still leaves a hole in me like something is missing,” She whispered, just staring at the wall, as she tried to remember anything besides William, but there was nothing. She just leaned against the counter, her fingers brushing along the glass. She suddenly smelt something burning and instantly she looked at Jackson. “Jackson are you…” She was about to ask if he was alright and that was when she realized she might have offended him and she just looked into his eyes, holding his gaze, but there was nothing but a blank expression. “You surely would tell me if you were offended, wouldn’t you?” She asked of him as she just stayed put, the muscles in her face tightening as she just felt now like maybe she had. There was that possibility and she really had not thought through at all what she was saying.
His words that the feeling was mutual seemed to confirm it. Jackson never was rude to her, not even now and he should have been. She just looked away and she felt like she did not even deserve the words after that and there was a sickness she felt. “I’m sorry,” was all she simply said, her eyes meeting his. “I honestly was not thinking,” she said remembering a conversation that he just briefly about his parents and what mood she had gotten from it. Her jaw set as she just stared down at the wine now, feeling even more guilty for what she had said.
“I need good company as well. Although, I think I’m starting to acquire more and more. My brother, Christian, is promising a visit to me,” she said as she had a conversation a while ago about how Christian was not really her brother, but was much like a brother to her. When you knew someone long enough that you could trust forever and they seemed to care for you as much as you cared for them to the point of death, she considered them family. She would gladly give him her life and he was probably the only person she would because he once had. As evil as Camille was, she was very loyal and fair to those in her life that gained her trust. Even with Jackson, she would remain loyal, unless he betrayed her.
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Post by jackson on Jun 28, 2011 7:24:37 GMT
fancy meeting you here.Camille back tracked slightly, taking back her words about the humans. Well. There we go. That solved one problem. Really, it wasn't a problem. People had their opinions. People said things without thinking about them. Perhaps it was just one of those moments. A mental slip up. Yes. He'd chalk it up to that. And when she mentioned William, well, things always seemed to get a bit strange. It was as if the man had the ability to make all other thoughts in her head disappear. When his name came up, she would often times fall silent, at least, when he knew her she did. And so he tried very hard not to let her remember him but these were troubling times and when life was at its worst, people's thoughts tended to follow the trend. Camille proceeded to ask him if he would tell her when something was wrong and Jackson merely raised a brow, pretending that he had no clue at all what she was talking about. Why bring it up? Sure, it was foolish on her part to say but at the time she had meant it. She simply just didn't understand the situation. Or recall who she was talking to. He believed that he had once told her, very briefly, about the demise of his parents. He didn't remember talking to her about Aurelia and her scars. Poor girl. But he had told Camille many things. Perhaps she had forgotten.
But he wasn't going to tell her that he would relay his problems to her. There wasn't a guarantee that he would, really. He didn't enjoy talking about his true feelings. He hid most of his feelings from people. And in some relationships he even tended to hold back. Like this one with Ari. She didn't need to know all about the dark, foreboding inner workings of his mind. No one did. It was nobody's business but his own. Why did anyone care if they offended him anyhow? He wouldn't be at their throats--providing they weren't human, light-sided or light sympathizers. Camille was none of these things so insults or not, he was not going to hurt her. Not unless she moved first. As soon as he solidified his will not to let on that he was angry, Camille suddenly apologized. She knew him too well. Apparently, she did remember his past, if only just then. And she understood his anger. And said that she was sorry. He didn't do anything wrong but suddenly he felt as if he had hurt her. She picked up on the little things and understood him entirely. It was incredible. She was looking down at her glass now and Jackson mirrored the action, staring back into his. It was remarkable how much a good red wine looked like blood. The idea put him off of the stuff for the next couple seconds before he finally braved another drink, relieved that it was indeed just wine.
By this time, she had started in on Christian but Jackson was still stuck on her apology. Absently after she finished, he managed a, "That's good to hear." Suddenly, although it was a fabulous wine that he should have been taking his time with, he finished his glass and stood up. Walking around the bar to the woman, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. "No more of this 'sorry' nonsense, dearest. You've done nothing wrong. I'm just a grumpy old man who stills sometimes loses his temper." Jackson remembered his jacket and pulled away, looking down at the singed edge, "And leather jackets, I'm afraid," he added, pulling off the garment and tossing it on a chair nearby. "If you'd like to do something with that, feel free." He grabbed his empty glass and held it between them, silently asking for more, "You look positively wicked in leather, after all.'
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Post by camille on Jun 28, 2011 8:11:11 GMT
Camille heard nothing from him for the longest time while she was talking that it made her go completely silent as they seemed to just watch the wine placed in front of them. Sometimes, she wondered if she knew him at all and with each moment that she spent with him tonight, she felt more and more guilty like she had ruined their relationship in one moment of time. Part of her liked him more than just as a friend, but as something more, but again there was no chance and had been no chance for her to admit that or even date him. There had been times where she thought that he might have wanted the same thing and she felt on top of the world then. They were perfect for each other in most ways, but sometimes like these, she felt the farthest from him and what they used to have. She ran her fingers through her hair briefly as she just glanced up at him momentarily.
She could tell he was focusing on something and it made her curious. When he said ‘that’s good to hear’ she felt herself panic inside as he stood up. She thought he might be leaving and she was about to say something to him, beg him to stay, do anything to keep him from walking out the door. That’s when she knew she loved him, and that’s when she felt utterly empty. Instead of walking out, he walked around the bar, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She just was caught off guard, automatically looking up at him, her arms coming to rest loosely around his neck. They were so close that she could smell the wine on his lips, the smell almost making her want to catch her lips to just taste the remaining wine. For a moment, she nearly missed what he said, just in a way starstruck. She just felt like a little girl now in his arms as he talked to her. She said nothing in response to him because to her she still felt bad that she had so ignorantly forgotten his past. He remembered hers and she could not even do the same for him. So what type of friend did that make her? Then he pulled off his singed leather jacket and tossed it over on a chair and smiled as she said she could have it. “Consider it a promise for our friendship that we keep in touch,” she said, smirking a bit as she grabbed the bottle, pouring him a full glass as she filled her glass as well.
She brought her glass next to his. “A toast to a newer friendship,” she said with a smile as she clinked her glass with his and took a drink of her glass, the sweet liquid running over her throat. She knew no matter how she desired to tell him how she truly felt, she knew she never could show her true side to him.
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