vojvode: (seal)
Prince Vlad, Dracula ([personal profile] vojvode) wrote2013-09-10 05:13 pm
Entry tags:

The bar, rooftop

 He'd spent the last few hours ghosting through the woods, trying to find a way back to his home, but it was proving a fruitless search.

And so, he finds himself outside the bar, looking up at the door Javert disappeared through just yesterday.  He doesn't want to go in.  He doesn't want to face Rae again, not now.  Maybe not ever.  And he doesn't want to face the man, either.  Not like this.  He's whole again, but the wolf still clings to him.  He feels like a barbarian, or a wildling.  He doesn't feel like a Prince right now.  He feels like a beast of the wood.

So he retreats to the rooftops, finding the highest place he can with a bit of cover from the wind.  He settles in with his back against the wall, his white shirt unpinned, and his cuffs hanging lose.  His trousers are tucked into the tops of his riding boots, and he doesn't want to think about how his boots look.  (Or who is going to polish them, now that Abel is gone.)  He sits with one knee drawn up, and his arm resting on it.  The other is clutched across his body.

He keeps his mind closed, shutting out the dim roar of the minds below.  He doesn't want to think anymore right now.  He just wants a moment of stillness.
(Be still.  Stay with me.)
This place will surely be the end of him. 
never_shall_yield: (Imperious)

[personal profile] never_shall_yield 2013-09-11 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
'It is shameful to feel so, then?'

He does not step back, but draws up a little further, adding height to keep distance.

'I assumed as much - and yet, you say this feeling is important. You are inconsistent.'

And he is remembering how it felt. He does not want to. He suspects it is the man's doing, but his mind does not feel invaded.
never_shall_yield: (Confusion/Angst)

[personal profile] never_shall_yield 2013-09-11 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
His face twists in renewed disgust. He would step back, away from him, but realises at the last second that there is nothing behind him. And he will not fall to rid himself of this creature. He will not fall at all. He settles for leaning back as far as he can, and still be stable.

'It is. And it is not true. It is not possible for it to be true.'

He cannot stand this idea, nor the bare proclamation of it.

'If I do not deserve it, take it back. I never asked for it. I did not ask for any of this. You have invaded me since the day we met, and harrassed me, and made me debase myself...this is not normal behaviour, even I know as much. So take it back. Give your precious gift to someone who desires it.'
never_shall_yield: (Flag)

[personal profile] never_shall_yield 2013-09-11 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
He is given pause.



'I...'

Why is he doing this? What purpose does it serve?

'This is what love is, then? To be at the mercy of another?'

He shakes his head, suddenly tired beyond measure.

'You mock me once again.'
never_shall_yield: (Pensive)

[personal profile] never_shall_yield 2013-09-11 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
He steps sideways, along the ledge, away from him. This is awful. This disquiets him in a way he cannot describe; there are no rules, no guidelines, and no way to know what to do.

'Get up. Do not...what are you doing? What do you want?'

He is hissing again, scared, unsettled.

'I am not interested in your desires. They are not natural, and I will not be party to them. If you wish to give me something I require, then go away.'
never_shall_yield: (Look Down)

[personal profile] never_shall_yield 2013-09-11 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
'I am not a child who will avoid-'

He breaks off, and looks down. He avoided Madeleine, as much as he could. For a time, at least. It would not be true to say he has not indulged this behaviour in the past.

It is almost as disquieting to see Tepesh at odds with himself. He does not know what to say.

'Very well. It is a large enough place. We need not see each other again.'
never_shall_yield: (Paris)

[personal profile] never_shall_yield 2013-09-11 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
He does try not to watch him go. But nevertheless, he finds himself following his progress across the grass to the back door.

It is, he tells himself, only good sense. One should know where the enemy is, and it is not often a man has the gift of having a foe in plain sight.

He does not know what to make of this conversation. He does know what to do about any of this. And is beginning to think that there simply is no answer. He is back, they will leave each other alone, it is done.

He would just prefer to believe that with a little more strength than he feels at the moment.