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The Beginning of Ariza…


-deep, cobalt blue optics wash over the glade; like spheres of azure liquid, they border a translucent ice...those, those chilled depths are well accompanied by a face of sheer alabaster; rippling pleats of violet hair, pour in gorgeous torrents down along the hollow curve of his jaw; a jaw defined to flawlessly to belong within the contours of a human face...jet painted lips curve at[c] either side; slender fingers forming a tower beneath his chin, as he sits with one leg drawn up to his chest, while the other curls beneath him, all concealed by the thin robes of a scarlet cheongsam-


*walks along the beach, her feet digging softly into the sand. She tucks some black curls behind her ear, seeming to be in her own reverie.* *her eyes wonder the clearing, then spots Azia. She shrugs, then sits down with her feet in the cool water. Her fingers move delicately through the grass and sand

-those almond shaped optics, drawn upwards at either corner, by pallid caramel lids, slide towards Victoria, while the tip of a spidery finger rises, and slides delicate circles along a sensual [c] underlip; lilac brows arch with a severe disdain, although there is a teasing in this feline performance...a mocking in the way he quite deliberately leans forward; such beautiful fingers, effeminate and graceful, spreading out along the stiff, vermilion collar that adorns a long, swan-like throat-...And what are you looking at?

*she glances over her shoulder, then looks back out to the sea.* Am I supposed to be looking at anything important?

-a frown of disproval creases the porcelain flesh between sculpted brows; simultaneously tugging at his mouth, as though his feature are in perfect tune with one another; slowly, he unfolds long, [c]slender legs from beneath him; flashes of bare skin like glimmers of silver, from beneath crimson fabric; the thin cheong-sam clinging to his lithe form, as he rests that vibrant head back against [c] the bleached wood of the towering willow tree; yet his eyes...sly, and bright, remain fixed on Victoria from the cover of dense lashes; his voice an alluring purr, chocolatey; almost like honey [itself, as it slides through the sweet March air-...Oohhh, my twister; no. I didn't say that, yet your egotistical self forms such delusions, in your mind, does it not...? That I was speaking to [c] somehow...ask you to look at me...


*she sighs, then looks back over her shoulder to look at him.* You happy now? I'm looking at you, though nothing seems to be of interest.*she laughs, the sound like velvet or silk against a {c}persons skin.*


-releasing a breath of a laugh; the sound less than a whisper, yet following the cloud of air that escapes him, like silvery laces that caress the hollows of his cheeks like loving fingers; that

His voice as addictive as opium, or the sugar that courses like his coveted Laudanum through dead veins; the long expanse of creamy, swan-like throat is covered by vermilion starch, as if to conceal some horrendous secret; fingers constantly play at the jet lacings, that bind the material so closely to his skin, but his expression of apathetic intensity refuses to fail-....I didn't ask you to look at me, ma char...not at all. Do keep up...

she shakes her head, getting up and walking over to him.* I don't think I've met a someone as annoying as you.*she then starts to walk away, counting to ten before looking back for a second.*

-smiling secretly, he only widens his eyes towards her, as of in a bid to protest his innocence; a pale hand extending, palm down; veins like a cobweb of cerulean threading beneath translucent skin...sensual...yet suddenly, he turns over his hand; a slab of dark chocolate lying in the curve of his palm, and he seems to offer it to her...the scent just one of many that kiss the air about him; cinnamon infused with vanilla and nutmeg, this creature is a vessel of perfect Oriental beauty-....I'll take that as a compliment, shall I? Would you care for some chocolate, my sweet?

*she stops, looking at him confused. She turns around, leaning back against a tree.* Chocolate?*she spots the candy in his hand, she looks to his eyes for a moment. She moves slowly to him, but {c}is hesitant on taking the chocolate. She watches him, wondering why he's giving it to her.*

Choc~o~late.... -the words escape him, with a listless grin, and a slight inclination of a single brow; as he watches her, those slender, spidery fingers offer a slight wave, as if in an attempt to force the chocolate towards her; yet there seems to be some reluctance in giving up the sweet...even in spite of the soft, brown leather pouch that is tied about narrow hips, its mouth open, and revealing an assortment of all kinds...yet there is morbid play behind his seeming addiction for sugar; perhaps there to replace something a thousand times more treacherous-....It's a wonderful thing.

*she takes the chocolate slowly, her fingers brushing his lightly. She goes and slips it into her mouth and letting it melt in her mouth. She sits down, but keeps a couple feet away from him.*

-those heavy eyes flutter, and he glances aside from her, once more; long legs stretching out before him, as if somehow pained by having sat so curled up, for such a long period of time; those bone-thin fingers sliding down, from slim thighs, over sharply defined knees, and taut calves, until they curl, triumphantly about his ankles; his breath escapes him in a pleasured, yet subdued sigh back arched, and curved beneath blood-red material; his spine trailing in overly prominent ridges, down the gorgeously shaped back...finishing as hips flare out, faintly, and vanish into a feminine preciseness-...It's only chocolate... don't worry, I save the lethal substances for myself..

*she licks her lips quickly, then looks down at her feet tugging at her skirt making it go down to her ankles.* Why'd you give me the chocolate?*she looks up at him, running her fingers along the hem of the dress. She moves her hands back, resting them in the grass.*

-exhaling from thin nostrils, he tilts back his head, and fixes her with glacial azure oculars; his irises seem almost as ornamental as a bee-hive, divided into separate sections, and layers of blue when the light hits them; stunning, almost paralyzingly beautiful, they are veiled by thick layers of dense lashes, that sweep along the ridge of his cheeks; no colour adorning this skin, yet the [c] rich violet of silken hair, offers a morbid feeling of life; at times bordering a painted, and dyed corpse..-....Because I like chocolate... you needn't be so suspicious of me, my love; if maybe you were a little more surreal, a little more dangerous, and a little more male, you would have to be afraid of me...seemingly you aren't.


*she laughs on her thought.* I guess you haven't met Richard then.*she smiles, resting her chin on her knees.*Is it bad I'm not all things you say I should be?

-a cold index finger slides forward; leaving its resting place in the hollow of his ankle, as it comes to graze along her chin; nails long...almost too long; they are like tiny daggers that catch at the frost; deflecting the light that seeks to rest there; his tones less than a chocolaty purr; his flesh is scented with vanilla, although cinnamon joins this, with each preternatural motion that[c] this lissome creature offers...dangerously perfect-...Bad maybe for you, because you won't get me as you would f you were those things; yet also good for you, for I am known to be very bad for a man's sanity....

*she feels his finger graze along her chin, her heart jumps a little. She watches his movements, hears his words and tries to read his eyes.* Are you now?*she breathes in his scent if vanilla and cinnamon which she finds is an interesting combination.*

-nodding slowly, he breathes out across her cheek, and leans closer; fingers spreading along her jaw, while he closes inky, ebony dyed lips against her mouth; no real passion offered in the kiss, it is merely a tease, and an offering of sugary flavours that inhabit the confines of his mouth; cold, crystalline-tinted eyes remain wide open; not a hint of emotion in the hollow features that[c] curtains of lilac hair frames...only mockery, and a vindictive pleasure in taunting-...I am. Although, you being so wonderfully clever....I thought that you would know this already...no?

*she can feel his lips linger on hers, she doesn't kiss him back or pull away. No emotion is going through her, she just watches his eyes for answers.* Maybe yes, maybe no. she likes that he called her clever and takes it as a complement.*

smiling vaguely, he brings those smooth lips upwards, and closes them lightly against her mouth, as if now finally unable to continue his affections any longer, yet there is an inability to finish even an act that repulses him, without grace; those long fingers lazily snaking over her throat, before he quite visibly shudders, and leans back and away from her; that dark voice licked with [c] tremulous tones of tight mocking...still no colour laces vampiric pale cheeks, and he only smiles at her, serenely-...I deem that you don't know what you're talking about; therefore you give riddles. I could taste them on your lips.

*she licks her lips again, sighing softly.* And you don't like it?*she tilts her head, feeling her pulse flutter lightly and knows he can feel it.*

Fin…