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le gouvernement
Palier 9
l'ordre écarlate
Palier 6

la confrérie
Palier 5
le cercle
Palier 7

les silences
Palier 4
ad maius bonum
Palier 3

les trinitaires
Palier 5
les veuves
Palier 5

les perles
noires
Palier 5
les épines rouges
Palier 6

les oubliés
Palier 3
les rossignols
Palier 1

propagée par la Confrérie du Soleil: Il semblerait que les bavures militaires ne soient pas l'oeuvre d'argents (ou du moins pas uniquement). Sidonie Galathynius, pourtant une rouge, a été vue agressant la foule et usant de son autorité de commandante pour inciter les militaires à faire de même. Parmi les personnes touchées par la Galathynius: plusieurs argents mais également plusieurs rouges. Personne n'est plus à l'abri...
propagée par la Confrérie du Soleil: L'assaillant de Orion et Tonia Zarkari aurait été commandité par la famille Sielle. Des pièces frappées du tigre ont été retrouvées lorsqu'il a fait tomber une bourse durant sa fuite.
propagée par la population d'Aureus: Lyanna Burkhardt, la fille de Nerea Burkhardt (née Iskander) est morte durant les manifestations. Certains affirment avoir vu un homme portant une veste floquée d'un grand soleil dans le dos s'enfuir à l'endroit où le corps à été retrouvé.
Vous aussi vous voulez propager votre propre rumeur? Alors rendez-vous dans le recensement général pour remplir le champ "rumeurs et informations". Vous pouvez également consulter toutes les rumeurs et informations avérées au sein du registre des informations et rumeurs.

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 · minuit se lève — abel

 :: LET'S GO BACK TO THE START :: flashbacks  
Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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· minuit se lève — abel  |  Ven 26 Juil - 18:53
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


(FEW MONTHS AGO)


On lui murmure un mot. Ce murmure devient un secret. Ce secret se transforme en rumeur. Et la rumeur brise son humeur.
La lune dansait joyeusement dans le ciel et l’éclairait d’un fil lumineux. La fumée sortait de sa bouche et retombait sur son visage comme une roue en marche. Zyña tenait délicatement sa cigarette, assise en jambes croisées. Un poison devenue addiction. Elle tapotait le bois de ses ongles vernis, indécise sur sa prochaine action. Et elle attendait, installée sur ce banc que l’invité s’explique.
Elle avait merdé quelque part, n’est-ce pas ? Non, elle ne fait pas d’erreur. Les perles ne font pas d’erreur. Directrice de l’orphelinat depuis une poignée d’années, elle s’était pourtant occupée de ces enfants depuis toujours. Vendre des âmes, troquer des corps ; un business régulier, mais avait-elle déjà acheté un enfant ? Battre les petits serviraient à rien, aucun ne connaissait leur parent, et battre le père se révélerait être un effort mesquin, son désespoir le torturait déjà assez bien. Zyña claqua sa langue contre son palais avec agacement. Ne pas maitriser la situation l’emmerdait grassement. L’absence de souvenir la hantait dans la cage du temps. L’oubli qui s’installe n’est donc pas le signe des vieilles dames ? Ne pas savoir avait irrité sa journée. Pourtant, elle était si belle – le soleil rendait ses lazulis plus clairs et faisait briller sa peau dorée. Les affaires étaient bonnes, l’oseille dans la caisse et les transactions s’écoulaient telles des eaux calmes. Et si elle avait pu rencontrer des désagréments, rien ne l’avait contrarié. Maintenant elle se tenait plongée dans une soirée noire de doute, sa beauté s’effritant avec l’obscurité. Fraîches et solitaires comme un vent d’automne, les rues d’Aureus se resserraient sur elle avec l’humidité de la nuit. L’incertitude montait avec la lune.
Zyña prit une nouvelle bouffée et relâcha la fumée de ses lèvres rouges. Elle lança un regard aux nuages, absents tout comme les étoiles. Et soupira.
Abel apparut devant elle, l’homme à tous les chagrins. Elle décroisa ses longues jambes et se mit sur ses pieds, ses hauts talons noirs retenant le poids subit de son corps. Elle jeta sa cigarette sur un sol enflammé par la journée et posa son regard éteint sur lui, força un sourire et dit : « Mmh, tu fais patienter toutes les femmes ou seulement moi ? » Une beauté dévastatrice, un charme glacial, une solitude aussi vaste que l’océan. Une femme aux perles resplendissantes, aux mains assassines et au regard évasif, se noyant éternellement. Zyña, Zyña, oui, c’est vrai ; son nom est Zyña. Parfois, elle l’oublie entre deux amants.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mer 31 Juil - 20:09




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

le chagrin comme un gouffre profond, rend terne le joli visage : abel sait que le chemin de ses larmes a fait quelque affront au doux visage. on se souvient d'une joie dans un regard, quelque malice constante et charmante - abel a été bercé dans une insouciance alerte de ceux qui ont de bons parents.
aux chances données à son cœur éprouvé, la réponse se fait avec une confiance résignée (il ne comprend pas toujours pourquoi il plait encore.)
et elle est très belle, alors quelque chose l'inquiète. parler d’inquiétude est un peu trop, mais il y a un peu de cela quand il est devant le miroir à vérifier que le col de sa chemise est bien mis. (abel se souvient de l'époque de sa nonchalante coquetterie, et se demande depuis combien de temps il n'est plus cet homme et s'il doit le redevenir.)  Rare sont les beaux vêtements à sa panoplie, qui se compose d'un uniforme qu'il ne peut se résoudre à aimer comme autrefois (il semble qu'autrefois soit le mot du jour,) et d'habits de détente qui ont vu leurs meilleurs jours s'évanouir très tôt. quelque part, deux costumes, un sombre pour les occasions les moins heureuses et un autre, qu'il s'est résolu à acheter il y a quelques mois après avoir  vu un jeune homme qui le portait et abel s'est mis à penser qu'il soignerait sa triste figure.
il y a sur la table de sa petite cuisine (trop souvent témoin de ses pires tentatives) quelque bouquet de fleur. les tons chauds, contre la table froide.
(il est loin de se douter qu'il va les offrir à un des rouages de son désespoir.)
(il pense simplement les offrir à une personne qui lui plaît beaucoup.)

un peu de retard, il y a sur ses épaules un long par-dessus beige et au creux de ses lèvres rondes une cigarette roulée avec peu d'expertise. la pratique ne permet qu'une amélioration maigre, et les années se moquent de lui.
Zyña l'attend et lui ascèse quelque phrase qui lui fait arquer un sourcil puis sourire. 'j'ai un travail où je peux jamais l'être, je me relâche un peu quand j'enlève l'uniforme.' (il essaie de ne pas s'attarder sur les jolies jambes.) il garde le bouquet encore en main, il ne le donne pas encore, s'y accroche, car la mince anxiété ne part pas encore même s'il a toujours été très doué à se faire aimer.  'même si ça devrait être un crime de te faire attendre.' abel est classique dans sa manière d'être charmant, sans qu'aucun amant n'y ait trouvé grand chose à redire. 'tu es ravissante.'

'j'ai aucune idée où on peut aller.'







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 11:30, édité 5 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Dim 25 Aoû - 1:48
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


Ses mots surgirent plus sèchement que prévu. Pourtant, elle appréciait Abel, elle adorait la couleur de ses yeux et le calme de sa voix. Il lui faisait oublier ce fatal isoloir dans lequel elle s’était enfermée toute seule grâce à son charme maladroit lui saisissant la main derrière sa cage. Comme s’il voyait derrière le voile de sa désinvolture et s’entichait de sa solitude. Un pathos partagé tel un secret qui n’appartenait qu’à eux. Parfois, elle se surprenait à se sentir moindre face à lui. Envieuse de sa chaleur, son naturel à s’ouvrir, à aimer. Tandis que ses paroles étaient des lames, sa bouche : un venin inévitable. Elle se faisait du mal et faisait mal à l’autre. C’était marqué dans le marbre ; le côtoyer d’avantage revenait à le briser. Mais, elle se faisait belle pour lui. Son parfum se baladait sur son cou où elle attendait férocement qu’il l’embrasse. Sa robe à bretelle noire dessinait une taille fine et étendait des jambes déjà longues Et son blazer de la même couleur reposait sereinement sur ses faibles épaules. Séduire ou être regardé – le jeu était gagné. Lui ou un quelconque homme, quelle différence ?
Taquine, elle fit tomber une goutte de séduction destiné à le faire rougir. « Je sais être patiente pour les bonnes personnes. Mais si c’était bel et bien un crime, à ton avis, comment devrais-je te punir ? » Elle diminua l’espace entre eux de quelques pas. « Quelle chance ! Il s’avère que j’ai un faible pour les hommes en uniforme. Surtout lorsque tout tombe au sol, jusqu’à la dernière parcelle de tissu. » déclara-t-elle sans dévier ses yeux clairs, l’indiscrétion transmettant son message licencieux. Puis son regard se porta sur le bouquet et elle hésita à feindre l’ignorance ou à jouer la carte de la narcissique.
Elle se surprit à offrir un sourire authentique face à son compliment. Un de ses rares qui n’était ni indifférent, ni calculé. La lune montante offrait une belle visibilité. Elle pria n’importe quel dieu de masquer cet écart de mièvrerie. Car la belle carrure du militaire l’étourdissait dans ses affaires. Il lui suffisait de quelques mots doux et de flatteuses fleurs pour lui faire oublier la raison de ce rendez-vous.
Zyña passa une main dans ses cheveux soyeux pour les démêler du vent et en profita pour scruter l’horizon. « Que dis-tu d’une balade nocturne ? Profitons du temps avant le retour de l’hiver. Bientôt, on ne pourra plus faire ce genre d’escapade. » Elle se mit à marcher en avant, ses yeux heurtant le sol. Puis elle s’arrêta soudainement, décidée à mettre fin à sa tergiversation. Un soupir d’inutile sévérité s’échappa de sa bouche. « Je dois te parler de quelque chose. »

Spoiler:
 


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 27 Aoû - 13:49




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

il y a un attrait millénaire aux passions difficiles (car elles se soldent par les plus grandes tragédies).
abel en tombe, victime, et se laisse rougir car la femme est belle et cavalière, et qu'il est délicieux de savoir qu'on plait encore. cavalière car les mots sont à la rue, peuvent se glisser à l'oreille de n'importe qui la laissant traîner (il jette un regard autour d'eux, et leur espère la grande discrétion des indiscrets.) et zyña réduit encore l'espace entre eux, abel tente au mieux de ne pas rougir, aurait aimé ne pas avoir entendu la phrase qui suit tant elle réduit, à néants, tous ses efforts. surtout lorsque tout tombe au sol, jusqu’à la dernière parcelle de tissu. il faut quelques instants pour trouver ses mots, pour la complimenter enfin avec toute la sincérité qu'il possède.
le sourire qu'elle adresse fait manquer à son cœur un battement.
'next time i'll come in my uniform, if you enjoy it so much.' (un uniforme qu'il n'est plus certain d'aimer, mais il veut bien tout faire pour être aimé à son tour.)

il trouve une grande difficulté à savoir où passer la soirée, il sait qu'aucun des lieux où il est fidèle n'est adapté à la robe noir et aux lèvres rouges, on imagine mal la finesse du talon contre le triste bois du bar qu'il est tant accoutumé.
et c'est une promenade dans la fraîcheur du soir qu'elle préfère et abel se laisser aller à la douce idée.
il a peut être quelque excès d'ego à s'imaginer être aperçu à ses côtés, alors il lui tend son bras. 'if i had the same shoes as you, i wouldn't be able to walk for long. you sure ?' il s'assure, lui-même ayant bien des difficultés à se faire à la dureté des chaussures les plus formelles.
mais la douceur d'un instant entre deux possibles amants s'évanouie, les quelques pas laissent place à l'immobilité. le ton n'est plus exactement la même, la phrase a quelque gravité. 'je dois te parler de quelque chose.' il imagine à ces mots quelques mises en garde sur les mots cavaliers. 'don't worry, angel, i have no expectations for tonight.'






Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 11:33, édité 3 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 10 Sep - 1:38
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


Elle étouffa un ricanement. Il la fait rire, rire aux éclats, rire à ne plus s’arrêter—un trait qu’elle avait condamné jadis contre une sévérité protectrice ; protège-toi de ce sourire, il t’emmènera chez les malheureux. Elle parcourut sa silhouette brièvement, rien n’était plus apaisant qu’un homme séduit par son franc-parler. Du rosé de ses joues à l’étincelle de ses iris, elle se haïssait presque pour jouer avec lui. Ses yeux crièrent divertis-moi, regarde-moi, aime-moi, ne suis-je pas la plus jolie des choses ? Puis elle se demanda : serait-ce si terrible de se noyer dans la chaleur de son corps ? Zyña enroula le bras offert avec le sien, captivée par une galanterie qu’elle ne retrouvait plus chez les hommes de son âge. Il bouillonnait, si chaud qu’elle se surprenait à brûler d’excitation à son toucher. A côté son corps chancelait comme un être frêle et vieilli par le temps. Combien de secondes avait-elle recommencé, de nuit comme celle-ci avait-elle observé ; si elle devait les additionner, partagerait-elle ses rides avec lui ? “How gallant. I know you’ll catch me in your arms if I break my heels.” avait-elle affirmé d'un air espiègle. Jouer la femme esseulée était un spectacle habituel et fade. Les masques différaient toujours selon sa compagnie. Parfois une chose fragile, parfois une chose cruelle. Ou bien celle qui le mènera aux enfers. Celle qui plonge dans le tourment, qui se nourrit de la paranoïa et se distrait des lamentations de ses victimes. Pourquoi, pourquoi, pourquoi fait-elle ça. Cette question pendait dans sa tête à chacun de ses pas sur le goudron. Bercée par le bras du colonel, par cette illusion qui jamais ne s’évaporera, elle se força à s’éloigner de lui. Avant que le jeu devienne réalité. Avant qu’elle ne s’attache à s’en briser le cœur.
You should have expectations. If not with me then with everything else. You should remember this one moment and ask the impossible. You should dare to hold my hand or kiss me under the moonlight because time is a fickle little bitch and you never know when it might change again. I’ve seen it with my eyes once or twice in my life...and it just keeps getting harder. I myself do have expectations for tonight before it all comes tumbling down.” Comme pour lui offrir un dernier moment de confort ou bien par une envie de prouver quelque chose, elle attrapa son visage et plaqua ses lèvres aux siennes si délicatement qu’elle crût les effleurer qu’un simple instant.  Tout ça pour que ça sorte de son esprit, pour que Zyña oublie qu’elle n’a pas le droit de s’immiscer dans la vie d’autrui. Car elle a accepté de vendre son âme et jouer le méchant ; tel est le masque qu’elle choisit de porter ce soir. Alors elle l’embrassa espérant que l’intensité de son baiser lui fasse oublier cette douleur ardente grandissant au fond de ses tripes. Quand elle se sépara de lui, elle le dévisagea de ses yeux devenus froids comme les ténèbres. “Downtown rumors say you did some awful things to your daughter.” Elle s’arrêta une demi-seconde, puis reprit d’une voix encore plus dure sans se rendre compte que ses doigts caressaient toujours son cou—étrangement facile à étrangler maintenant qu’elle touchait sa peau nue. “Did you really kill her? Have you been using me to cover your crime?” Non pas qu’elle refuserait de jeter un homme dans un ravin si elle le pouvait, la mère de tous refusait de blesser un enfant. Et pourtant elle incarnait malgré elle le villain le plus perfide des contes de fée.
Quand Abel se remémorera cette soirée, elle espérait qu’il se souvienne de la douceur de la lune, de son sourire hésitant, de la façon dont sa robe noire la mettait en valeur et à quel point son parfum était enivrant. Avant de se souvenir qu’elle lui avait brisé le cœur avec des suspicions erronées.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.



Dernière édition par Zyña Braun le Mar 17 Sep - 21:23, édité 1 fois

Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Ven 13 Sep - 23:49




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

Elle a un rire qu'il veut entendre encore. Le bras autour du sien, une douceur (un contact qui l'éloigne des tracas). Abel voit dans chaque amour flottant la possibilité du plus grand, pense le trouver dans les plus infimes rougeurs. (Et assurément il s'imagine un bien beau conte au bras de Zyña). Mais les siens ont rarement connu la durée, il n'a à son cœur et sa malchance un goût pour la brièveté (que ce soit le destin qui lui enlève ou son propre amour las). Il n'y a qu'une relation qui s'est démarquée, et un à laquelle il pense encore, un regret : il s'efface au bras de la femme. (Caïn n'est pas un oublié, mais il se voit en transparence) Abel se noie dans sa beauté et ses mots, car elle lui offre une tendresse piquante dont il ne se voit pas se séparer. (Elle lui rappelle un instant la mère de sa fille, et il n'est pas certain de savoir si c'est une bonne chose ou une mauvaise).
'I know you’ll catch me in your arms' He dares to wish they break, only to hold her close. And she has words that go beyond anything he would wish, for she is daring and he is nothing more than a man crippled with nostalgia (telling himself the old Abel would have done it, and he is not that man no more). Ask the impossible. He did, everynight, not only this one, not only wishing to kiss in a sweet manner a pretty other but to go back to a painless state (a state where Maeria is still around). He wishes very hard to be able to call himself a father again without a shadow of shame. Kiss me under the moonlight. His slight anxiety breaks into a smile.

She kisses him.
Abel dares to put his hands on her hips, after a moment of delight and surprise.
(There are many things he wants to say at this second)
How sweet she smells.
How much I like her soft hands on my cheeks.
How I wish to see her again, for a kiss, for a talk, anything.
But a dream is a dream. The eyes turn cold.

There is poison at the end of her lips, her eyes, the words she speaks shatter Abel's sensible smile. Words can kill, he is very sure of it. She strokes his neck, softly, and he can not breathe. 'I'm guilty.' Pain in his voice, and he puts in hand on Zyña's. (Her touch breaks him, just as much). 'Guilt is eating me alive, but not for a murder.' (How can she trust the lies they like to tell ? How can she fall under the lies of the snakes ?) 'I was a bad father. And I hope that trying to find her in any place I can look will make up for it.' There a not fingers left on the stunning woman's hips, for they are stroking her hair. A memory. Something to keep his eyes from watering. (He rarely breaks into tears on what he believes to be a first date).
'Why go out with a man you'd think of as capable of murder ?' Is this even a date ? Does she like him a bit ? (If only he knew who kissed him).







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 11:36, édité 3 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mer 18 Sep - 15:04
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


Guilty; the word is adequate. It fits her just like the slinky dress she’s wearing.
Guilty of accusing him of something awful. Killing a child is something she never did. But she can’t ignore the fact some may have wanted to die instead of staying in her care. Children like her sweet Maeria. Guilty of being a bad mother. Although she didn’t give birth to any of these kids, she thinks of them as her owns. Guilty of tricking, cheating and always lying for her benefit.  
I heard you sold her off.” She bites her lips, maybe she shouldn’t have said that. “I know it’s not true. It’s not you that I don't trust, it’s—” She stops before she unveils a secret. It’s me. I doubt myself because I may have taken your daughter in. I may have fed her, clothed her, and bathed her. Read her stories, stroke her hair like you’re doing with mine right now and beat her naked when she said she wanted to leave me. And all this time I was looking for her, just for you, and I might be the one who sold her off. Not you. And I’m scared I did. And even now I’m still lying. So please, don’t cry. The list goes on and is way too long to recite out loud. If he’s a guilty man then she’s a fucking criminal standing on death row. “I’m sorry you lost her. I’m sure you’ll find her one day. It’s just a matter of time.Time, always that fickle bitch coming around and gloating at her.

Zyña never thought of this evening as a date. She never thought she’d receive a bouquet of reserved affection or that she’d tiptoe to reach his height and kiss him. It fell on her unexpectedly like many things do. She came to talk about that wavering thought upsetting her, making her hesitant on her own action, making her ponder her ability to remember and thus rekindling her deepest fear: oldness. It’s an accepted fact that she’s cruel. She plays people like you’d play cards. And still, she has the audacity to demand honesty. She’s curious to know if she was used, if he was a better player than her. She worries this tragic case reveals early amnesia. Her mouth can’t form words. She hesitates—tell the truth, tell a lie or some half-truth? She never was a good harbinger of verity, yet she tries: “I have the unfortunate habit of seeking dangerous people. Sometimes they come at me, sometimes they don’t. Or, I don’t know, maybe I probably did worse than murder. I’m not really sure of that.” Uncertainty rests in her eyes, her voice. It’s there in the street's narrowing shadows and up high with the dazzling moon. She wants to kiss him again. This time she doesn’t dare. His touch on her small hips was enough to tingle her skin. She doesn’t risk burning herself against his body again. Or maybe Zyña is tired, and she wants to be more than a pretty doll for petty men. “But I do know I like being around you.” Her thumb goes over his upper-lip, smudging the rest of lipstick she left on him. And she smiles, the sudden switch of atmosphere betrays her unpredictability. Unpredictable; another word that fits her.
I changed my mind. I’m gonna need a drink. You don’t mind, do you?” Her fingers leave his neck, her gaze avoids his watery eyes and she starts walking before hearing his answer.
Guilt greets her again. She knows he’s a heavy drinker and she shouldn’t lead him anywhere near a bar. Yet, she’s a selfish hag who doesn’t feel like drinking alone. Or maybe it’s because he’s here with her right now and the abyss of the glass is the only place she’ll find the courage to tell the truth.

Spoiler:
 


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mer 18 Sep - 23:59




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

Lies know no end. Never ending circle of pain, right there, at the bottom of the colonel's heart, words of overheard songs, the poison-rythm overlooking the depth of the man's pain (he wishes to never hear of this tale again). He wishes to tell her how much he wants to change the time, to be found dead instead of Maeria taken - but Able is all muscle and no power of that kind. However, how many times did he played that fantasy, drunk and shivering in the dead of the night, not able to find the keys to his door ? How many trembling hands and broken glasses slipped from those fingers, wishing to be cold and still instead of half asleep ? (But she had to ask.) (He can not hate her for that.)
He can only hate himself. (And he will, 'til the end of times.)
Zyña asked a question that is on many's mind, and soothes his heart with blank words more said before her. 'A matter of time, yeah.' The sound of defeat, but the man is still at battle. 'I hope she didn't forgot about me.'

Some day.
A day.
(Just knowing she is alright.)
(What is she like now ? More of her mother or father ?)
If only the man knew ! The woman could answer !

His tourment fails his reading of the scene, he can not see the hesitation on the tips of her lips (nor can he see that his are nearly as red as hers). 'I don’t know, maybe I probably did worse than murder.' Something Zyña is confessing and he won't hear. He won't listen, lost in the fair eyes of a lady he soon (or a day) will learn to fear and scorn. For the moment he adores those eyes, and the water in his cease to be. She likes him she says - not those exact words but that is what Abel will hear. (She caresses his lips : it is sweet and bitter.) He smiles as she smiles, and thinks more and more how much she looks like Maeria's mother. She parts from him, his fingers forced to leave her sides. A false question.
And he remembers she taught him to have expectations - will he dare to speak of that nice bootle of brown liquor a commander offered him ? A petal of time in which he sees them both, sharing a glance over the tough smell of alcohol, her hand brushing against his cheek, his lips thinking of hers. A heart if beating fast underneath his beige trench coat.

Should I ?

'I have a nice bottle of something at my place. It's so nice I was saving it.'
Unease somewhere between his shoulders. Is it like him ? Why doesn't it sounds like him ? (It is not the first time Abel would have taken someone home for a drink.) 'It's not far. I can even carry you.' Ah, humour !
Perhaps the man knows how little what the terrible woman has to say will suit a public setting.

(Should she say yes, Abel'd take her to his flat a few streets below.)







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 11:38, édité 2 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

· minuit se lève — abel Empty
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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Ven 20 Sep - 23:03
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


There are a million things Zyña always wanted to ask him. How did you lose her? Have you slept ever since? When did you start drinking? Who was her mother? Is she still around? Are you married? Not that it mattered or that it would stop her from taking that step to seek his mouth. But these questions were intimate and for that reason alone, she never wanted the answers. Thus displaying to him the remaining piece of decency she perhaps still possessed. “I don’t see how she can. You’re her father. You always remember your parents no matter how insignificant they were in your life.” She’s reminded of her own genitors, that couple of junkies too hooked on opium to take care of their malnourished daughter. Damn, she hated them. But she never forgot them.

He accepts her poisoned request to drink. However, instead of feeling excitation coursing through her veins, Zyña almost freezes when he invites her over. Her silhouette becomes weary as if burdened by some responsibility to warn him. I don’t want to hurt you, she thinks. But, unfortunately, that’s what she does. She’s getting involved, attached to the melancholic colonel. Too deep in whatever that was—a flirt, a fling, a friendship? History showed her before the echoes of such games on unhappy souls. They, sadly, never end well. Although she’s a master of causing suffering on others, there are no limits to the pain she inflicts on herself either. Hard on her heart and to whom she gives it. Love is a precious currency. Stingy with affection yet generous with her body. She can’t even form a smile to his joke as she is well aware of the idea behind his offer. Usually, the scene would've seemed tempting. She would've drink until her stomach bled and her fingers lingered on naked skin and then she would've disappeared before morning. She’s almost certain he knows that. And still, he has the guts to shoot his shot. So innocent of him. That’s not true. He can’t be this naive. If we do this, I’m going to ruin him. “Abel.” His name cuts her tongue. “You shouldn’t do this.” A pretty girl and a handsome man standing in the edge of night, what else could happen? It’s not a drink. It’s never just a drink. Her heartbeat fastens. The alarming pounding inside her keeps her from hearing her own voice. It’s feeble and unsteady, chilling with the winds of night. “Don’t offer your heart on a sleeve like this. I might break it.” Already doing it, but he doesn’t need to know that for now.
But he’s beautiful and she wants to kiss him again. And maybe do more.

Do you think I’m pretty and easy? That’s the only reason I can think of.” He’s right though—she is pretty and easy. She says these words without hostility. Only curiosity animates her. Zyña is calm like the ocean she’s constantly drowning into. It’s perfect there; cold and safe, the waves never spark off unsought feelings. Not like he’s doing. Let’s not get into this mess, you’ll stir up some unexpected feelings. She sketches the lines of his face, observes the wrinkles around his eyes and gulps. After all, women are weak in presence of charming men. This lady’s no exception.
Once these thousand thoughts left her mind, her voice finds back the simplest of words: “All right, I’ll have that drink.Take responsibility and accept the consequences. Maybe she’ll ask his soul in return for her body.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.



Dernière édition par Zyña Braun le Dim 22 Sep - 13:22, édité 1 fois

Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Sam 21 Sep - 23:27




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun


Insignificant.
A simple word, a wound. For he knows (or imagines well) this is all he is to a long lost daughter, he is a stranger, a fog of some kind. (If it is the price for being remembered, so be it, let Abel be insignificant.) He does not see the pain behind the fact, does not question the woman's knowledge. He is too troubled, and it is not his place to ask - they both have questions burning their toungue, but none are spoken. Better to know so little, a whole life's truth would make the earth weep from the rise of the sun to its night.

He does not bring her the soft joy he thought he would (to dare, he shoudn't have). Something of a no Abel sees coming, and regrets not having simply taken her arm and kissed her somewhere chaste (the hair, the cheeks). He curses his heart and his lips to feel, wished they would be cold as stone. Passion comes to the man as the warmth of the sun to the early riser. He falls too often soft against the door of love and adoration, bruising places a body can not show (the heart), and leaving adored memories turning bitter. Her fair words sadden him, almost as if she knows him too well just by a glance. Both of their heart are beating fast, a chamade they share under the night's sky. He sees himself inventing happiness in any welcoming arms, wishes to find the solution to his sorrow in the possibility of love. (He fools himself tonight, he should know better.) (He should learn to decipher better.) 'I never learn. I may want my heart to be broken again.' By her, for she reminds of past loves he can not let go. A smile grows on his sad frown. 'I'm the easy one.'

How many lips against his
How many soft skins under his fingers
To remember - a fool's task.

'I offer my heart too quickly, don't I ?' The touch, her fingers, his face : he melts.
She agrees to a drink. He wants nothing more, nothing else - the only expectation of the night is seeing the bottom of the liquor in the soothing compagny of an intriguing woman. He leads the way, uncertain of the words to speak, small talk dies in every effort, and he welcomes silence to hide his discomfort. He opens the door to his flat in the sad and cheap streets of Aureus' nightmare. (And to his own.) Pictures of the child and a past lover and forever friend can be found where a person may lay an eye. 'The army doesn't pay much.' An apology coming in the back of his troat he does not dare to voice. Zyña is well too much of every beauty for his place.

He shows her to the kitchen, where he pulls two glasses he got from his parents. 'Funny thing, I never thought I'd drink someday. I hated the taste. The feeling.' (Not a funny thing, he drinks to forget and to live another day.) A fine bottle of whiskey comes to the small table where there is only two chairs. A gift he could not drink alone, weeping like a wounded animal. A cigarette comes to meet his lips. 'I always thought I'd be like my parents. I was, at some point.' He shrugs. Regrets never go away.







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 11:41, édité 2 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Dim 22 Sep - 22:10
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


He’s a beautiful tragedy. Loving, being loved, breaking hearts and mending his own: a symphony of human basic emotions. An eternal spiral in which Abel can never escape. He’s always seeking it, calling it. Searching love and company in a place he shouldn’t even set his feet into. The despair in his voice reveals the inevitable pain that will crush him. As if he’s already aware he’s going to suffer. The inevitability of it makes her sad for him. Empathy? Another bitch of hers. How many told her she has no heart to give? She wants to cry about a past lover as well but she has none. Loneliness is her sole companion and most secret mistress. She observes him for a moment in full silence. “I envy you. Truly. To give your heart away like you’d give out oxygen is a genuine privilege.” And follows him on that path that will only lead them both to hell: his place.

She shrugs at his humble apologize of his tiny walls. “Still better than the shithole I grew up in.” It’s supposed to be a compliment but comes out like a nagging. Her eyes stroll the room and find photographs of Maeria everywhere. Shit, it is really her. Zyña takes a deep breath. Guilty. Maybe he’ll strangle her before sleep. That’s perfect, she doesn’t want to be awake when he’s crying himself to sleep or throwing plates around. Does she really have to say the truth now that they’re here? Can’t she be selfish just for one night only?
She hears him talking about his childhood. After all, rambling is old people’s favorite hobby. She shares that with him. “Your parents, hm? I think you’re great as you are.” His hesitation shows in his frown, he doubts himself so much. But he’s already better than she’ll ever be, why can’t he see that? It never came to her he still had kin. For her, blood-related family is unfamiliar territory.
She takes her jacket off and grasps the glass. She’ll need it. Oh sweet whiskey, she prays, make this evening as pleasant as the victory of a racing horse.

I used to steal bottles from the old Matrona because the juice she gave us tasted like horse piss.” She laughs at the memory and suddenly stops when she’s remembered she’s not allow to feel joy. Down memory lane: that same night, another girl took her spoils and drenched her bed with the liquor. As if it wasn’t enough, she told their mother-benefactor. Matrona was furious. In punishment, Zyña was forbidden to eat for three days. And resentment never left her heart. She found pleasure in knowing the girl was adopted by a family that beat her to death. Well, snitches do get killed. That’s one of life’s greatest justices, isn’t it? “I started smoking around the same time.” She leans across the table to steal his cigarette and put it between her lips. Nonchalantly. “Twelve or thirteen, I guess.” She inhales the smoke and places it back in his mouth. Her clear blue eyes never leave his. “Did I ever tell you I’m an orphan?” She says it like it’s some vulgar trivia that has no need to be pointed out loud. In fact, she’s not sure she’s told anyone. Zyña is so used to be around Pearls. Some of them know she’s been here for a long time but they don’t get how long exactly. To the little people, she’s a success story, a self-made woman. They’ll never know how deep she comes from or how far she went to get that beautiful apartment in the Heights of Aureus. “I grew up in the same orphanage I now run.” She stares the void. Now that she’s reminded of them she’s torn between rage and sorrow. It could have been better. It could have been safe. They could’ve been kind and caring. They could’ve taught her so many things about her powers. They could’ve been there for her when she needed them. Instead, they chose to become dead corpses in the mud. “My parents—my real parents, they weren’t the nicest pair of folks.” She sips her drink. “But, you know, we’re not supposed to be our parents. If that was the case, I’ll already be dead in a dump. And you, you wouldn’t be here drinking with me. So I guess it all turned out fine for both of us.
And the night’s only getting juicier.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 24 Sep - 0:03




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun


YOU HAVE MADE PAINFUL AND JOYFUL VOYAGE
BEFORE LEARNING OF THE LIE OF AGE



The intimacy of a home (where it aches). If only the walls could talk ! A story no one wants to hear again ! (Where she ran in joy) The tales of Abel are old and grey, and his daughter is young and bright. (Where she wept for a bruised elbow)


YOU SUFFERED FROM LOVE AT TWENTY AND THIRTY


True, a privilege he celebrates any given day, kissing beauty and mind alike. They are, after all, statues of a better time. Losing of his weakening heart in the sole act of love, bottled pain he would only drink again the day the passion dies. Mending a heart with kisses. He wished them to be hers, he felt a flicker of his own soul at the touch of her lips, and dares to pray she is to be braver than the colonel. (She is in every way) He knows how weak he truly is, beyond the muscles and the fists he is so keen to make deadly. (He's tender, the way a puppy is, and he has yet to discover the dragon she is) (Even in the sad walls of his home, he wishes to take her lips against his)
He dares to see love. It is conflict.
Two forces, yet to be named, all defenition revealing themselves to be inacurate, against one and another.
She speaks of secrets and truth, and Abel listens. He smiles when he speaks of his own sorrow, and she laughs at hers. A lot more in common he has with the woman, never found as much with any other. (At the thought, Caïn's portrait in the small kitchen frowns). He started the lane down alcoholism late, but he started cigarettes around the same age as Zyña's. 'I don't remember ever not smoking.' He could not be without it. As sad as it is, it is the poison of the regular man. 'I thought I looked good doing it.' How vain is the young, and the aging ! Abel does many things for beauty, for his own - we remember too well the boy of eighteen, smiling so ever coyly for men and woman he knew to be his in the instant.
(She took the cigs from his lips) (Sweet and bitter, as the kiss was)
(He wishes for more, or the same)
Her tale is sad, leaves Abel empty, but he feels anew in the pain : his heart ache for someone else he is not. He wishes to know more, but does not want to hurt with any of her past. May she says what she feels is right. (About the parents, his heart shrinks). His were good enough, near from perfect.

If only every child had them !
A soft world it'd be !
No tragedy to be felt at night,
Nothing but sweetness !
(How much do we want that ? How much pain did we felt ?)


I LIVED AS A MAD WOMAN AND I LOST MY TIME


His drink is empty. In front of pain he drinks. He takes her hand in his, strikes the back of hers. He takes it to his lips. 'I am glad we talk.' He speaks, as he does not want to remind her how sad her past life is, she knows it too well - it would be dumb to repeat. His cigarette rests in the ashtray. Small kisses, shy, soft. He does not know what her life feels like, but dares to wish he understands her at that moment.


YOU COULD NOT LOOK AT YOUR OWN HANDS, AND AT ALL TIMES I WANTED TO CRY
FOR YOU, THE ONE I LOVE, OF ALL THAT FRIGHTENED YOU



'I hope my child found someone like you. You're strong and sweet, and yet you've had know hell. I'm glad we met.' He takes back the cigarette from the ashtray, wishing it'd feel the same as a locking lip. (It does not) Abel sinks himself in whiskey once more, a deep swallow, a sip of too much. He does not know where to stop, and he feels as if he had to drink for both, to harm his body for two. 'I was very much happy once. I lost her. Can't sleep since.' A sip so heavy his sad smiles wears off. No need to pretend, that is what the man thinks, she knows better, she reads better. She embodies more than he could ever dream of (while being her own person)

'For as much as she knows, I'm a drunk bastard. Meant to die in the back of some sad alley. I hope she'll end up like you.' She is strong, he knows Maeria is as much as Zyña.

The ending cigarette burns the tip of his fingers. He drops it in the ashes.
Whiskey is served again.
His heart breaks again (but his own words, for once)
'At some point, I thought I had it all. A lover.' He points, shyly at the portrait of Caïn above him. (He never dared to speak of the men in his life to any women he had in the intimacy of his place). He knew too well the dark times he still lives in. He knew Maeria's mother could not handle his loves. 'A child.'





LES CITATIONS DANS LE RP SONT DES TRADUCTIONS D'APOLLINAIRE




Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 11:45, édité 1 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mer 25 Sep - 23:03
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


The pearl is carried by the moment. When did she find a man delicate and sappy? In whiskey with a finger of misery—that ought to make her laugh. And his smile, so dashing and caring. She wishes he looked at her the way he sees his prized liquor and observes the echoes of his lost daughter. She cheers with him to all the bad memories. May they lose their way in far eternity.
You do look good.” Always swaying empty words of flirt. Careful Zyña, he might fall for that trick. And so will you. So she coughs to mask the compliment. “It was the same for me. But I mainly wanted to piss off my tutor. The habit stayed.” She admits and hopes he finds resemblance in their behavior, for they are both lonely goons fooling themselves for the night. A pair of unlucky fellows stuck with a bad bottle of honey.

Strong and sweet. That’s incorrect bullshit. She’s weak and sour. Like the lemon in a glass of water. Too focus on adding flavor to notice it’s bitter as hell. Harsh to swallow but necessary to quench a stubborn thirst. “Thank you.”  She means it. I’m glad I met you too, she wants to say but the words are muffled in her throat. “But if you know who I was, you wouldn’t be saying that.” A very, very bad girl. A dangerous woman. Gangster in heels, liar with lipstick. Run, boy, run, before she gets you too. She’ll ruin your head and steal your soul.
One day soon, when she’ll be old and crawling, with a knife stuck in her back, she’ll remember these words. Someone was kind with her. If the truth comes out now, he’ll never let her cross the threshold of his house again. That thought haunts her. She wants to see him again. See him well. “That makes two bastards who’ll die in a dark alley.” Is that a joke? Another sardonic laughs hides in the corner of her mouth. If she grins now, he’ll call her a psychopath. So she hinders the hysterical feeling and pretends she’s fine—or alright? Whatever.

His tenderness almost melts her. His kisses on her blood-dirty hand electrify her like lightning striking clouds. If only I met you sooner. We could’ve been better friends and get a proper date. Maybe, you could have taught me how to love. And I think I would have done a damn good job loving you. But today’s bleak and I’m a wicked witch.
She covers his drink with her palm and begs him to stop with a glacial gaze. Her frail fingers brush his skin and take the glass out of his grasp. Gently. She devours it in one go and slams it on the table.
Darling, don’t drink until your heart can’t take it. Do like me and be a cold-hearted bitch.

Zyña takes the bottle and gulps in hesitation before pouring him another shot of despair. Can’t you see she cares? The vivid snake worries he’ll bury himself in sorrows and whiskey. She takes a deep breath and releases air and guilt. “If you want to drink until you pass out, I’ll drink with you. If you want to cry, I’ll lend you a shoulder. If you want to die so much, I’ll drown with you so you wouldn’t feel lonely. Though I’m not sure it will get you anywhere but drop dead, that’s for sure.” She points the poison to illustrate her statement. She sighs; the silence never felt so weary. She realizes she wants to cry but her eyes are well too dry. That’s odd. The emotion is a stranger, like everything about tonight. Her voice breaks and her heart follows her in a damp place. Even if it’s inevitable the day will rise, let’s weep tonight and forget tomorrow will ever come. “I never ask to live this long but now that I’m here, I’m doing the best I can. So should you.” She smiles through the confessed agony. Her available hand caresses his cheek. Chiseled face and strong cheekbones meet a stubble beard. How skin can feel so rugged and soft at the same time, she wonders. An immaculate man jailed in his suffering, soon she'll join him.

A table stands between them and a portrait watches over, menacing her not to hurt its old flame. A bit of jealousy flies over her head. Paintings should not talk. She aches to swing that and kiss him, just to forget. Or to make him understand time’s not fighting him. He’ll find love again. His daughter, his lover. Everything. When he’ll get that, he’ll forget her like they all do. Hate her too. Good ol’ Zy, pathetic nanny, cursed in a cage of lonesome bricks where the clock never ticks. And everything she can do is stare blankly and watch that happen. “Someday when you’ll have the life you've always wanted, you’ll forget all about me. You’ll get why.” The man in the portrait eyes her. She glances back while blinking many times thus admitting her defeat. Her tone drops and she whispers in his ear: “It was my mistake to dare thinking you could have been mine for the night.” She should leave, she wants to. She wants to not. But her glass is not finished.
Please hate me so I can find dreadful sleep in frosty arms, where my heart is displeased to dwell.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Ven 27 Sep - 9:58




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

Honey is a compliment from the pretty. Abel knows how to take 'em, a faint blush spread on his cheeks, a sweet smile he mastered over the years thanks to the attention his pretty eyes got back in the day. (Anything is a lot to a small village of tired farmers) If only he were rich and argent ! He could have all the world in his palm ! Pleasant fantasy he used to have, wondering if indeed the pain is sweeter under the warm rays of the sun. You don't get much of them in the hell hole he lives in. You do not get much of anything. (Streets rats find distasteful) The appreciation of the woman's beauty burns the tip of his toungue, more than a dying cigarette or the strong taste of liquor. He dares not to speak of it, hopes she sees how much he is falling for her. Nothing that can be prevented, his heart is wild and young, years passing and pain crushing never got this part. Loving is ever so easy for those who know how to do it best. 'You can't be that bad. I have a good eye for good hearts.' (In another life, she is, but this one crushed her early) He is a fool, he is blind. He does not see the cold in her eyes. He may thinks he is warm enough for the both of them. A joke he takes as a joke, the drink helps. 'A glorious death, eh ?' He should not laugh about the dying of the light, and he feels a pain at the bottom of his heart. It is not like him to say those things. Can a compagny change him so much in a short time ? Or does he already have a blackness in the depth of his mind ? A question he does not dare to answer, knowing well it would crush him to come to one.

(Eyes, ice)
(Skin, soft)

A proof of somewhat sweetness arise in the small kitchen, and Abel would smile to this victory if the words had not been so sad. A sip of whiskey does not make them less bitter. That is the smile, of agony, that is the fingers lingering - Abel breaks into a sorrowful face. 'I'm not gonna drink my soul away. I swear.' His mind will be kept clear tonight, for her, for the way she cares. (He likes to think he sees under the fortress). He does not know what is the confession he'll hear, and how much he'll wish to have been drunker. 'To a long life, then.' (A sip, just one)

The tone changes.
Is it what he feared (or forgot to) ?
Or is it jealousy?

A whipser to his ear. A shiver. He wishes to kiss her, but it is not the time. Instead the man rises and kneels besides her. 'My love for one does not undermine my love for the other. ' Ever so gentle, he caresses her calves, seeking warthm in the shifted atmosphere. He knows well the past is out of reach, too well that Caïn and him have not spoken in over twelve years (it is a buried love) 'Is it why you're being pouty ?' He kisses her hand again, dares to lose himself in her eyes. 'Or you're jealous ? That'd be cute. Really, But I doubt we'll ever be as so little as friends again. ' He remembers the day they parted.

It hurt.
(Not as much anymore)

'And I'm not much for one night thing. I always want to see the person again.' Abel wants to see a smile on her face, wants to be the source of a (even ephemeral!) joy. He thinks again about kissing her, but remains still and longing into her gaze. If only life were sweet and kind, if only they had their try at good and tender ! 'But if you wanna leave, do it, that's fine. I don't want you to stay in a situation you dislike.'






Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 12:06, édité 1 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 1 Oct - 2:04
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


She drinks his candor, his honesty, his optimism. In some way, it’s fascinating. How can a human being who lived all the horrors of life can still find the courage to see hope in tomorrow? That’s a strength she never possessed. For Zyña is a pessimist and a liar, always bending the truth to her goodwill. If it’s not bent then it’s left out, ignored and thrown in a cage somewhere. Her heart’s not good or kind. Everything about her is rotten to the core. But they all get fooled by her pretty face and the redness of her lipstick. As if a beautiful lady cannot be the most appalling hag underneath all the makeup and the clothes. “You need a pair of glasses.” She can’t stop the laugh coming out of her mouth. An unusual sound he’s the only one who has the honor to hear it. For a second, she regrets pouring him another drink. But the decisiveness in his eyes tells her he intends to stay sober. Too bad, they could’ve played really funny games together. However, a delighted thought crosses her mind. Nothing that happens tonight can be put on the account of alcohol. And this does bring a smile on her face. “Dying with you wouldn’t be so bad, old man.” She cheers to that. To a long life, indeed. One where she’s not in it because the truth would have broken his heart so violently he wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of her. And she would have deserved it.

He’s now on his knees, next to her, skimming her calves. She shivers with his touch and bites her lips as her eyes blink. The scenery makes her wonder when was the last time someone looked at her like this. No one. The man in the photograph is beautiful too, she’s not surprised of his good taste. After all, he’s here with her. “I’m not being pouty.” She snaps without realizing her voice comes out like a kid’s whim. “I’m not jealous either.” She adds with a lower and calmer tone. But she is, really. Her eyes soften when he kisses her hand. He holds her weak under his skin. Completely naked but clothed. Her guard now so low it could hit the ground he anchored his knees into. “How is it? Having your heart broken by a man?” She asks so slowly she hears her heartbeat. No malice, no mind games only curiosity. The pleasure never was hers. To be heartbroken is to be loved, and to be loved she never was.

He’s trying so hard so she accepts defeat. A broad grin graces her divine features. “All I hear is that you want to see me again. That’s a lot of words for something so simple.” She jokes. But they both know none of it is simple. That’s why it’s compelling—because it’s doomed. How can she form the correct words...I think I’m falling in love with you. That’s unfortunate, we’d be miserable together. “I want to see you again. Do you?” The words aren’t enough, not as powerful as her growing feelings.
The already tiny walls tighten around her like her distressed heart. And she leans for a leap of faith in order to convey what she’s tired of trying to say. Thus, catching his lips with hers, her fingers on his face like they were earlier. The kiss lasts longer; more desperate and eager. She savors it. One last kiss before the truth. One last kiss before heartbreak. Remember me, it says. Love me even when you’ll hate me, it pleads.
When she breaks away for air, she laughs again. “You smell terrible.” Smoking, drinking and kissing. Bad combo.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 1 Oct - 23:42




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

Old, indeed, he is, he knows in the depth of his bones.
Old, he would not mind to be, if it meant together.
(For sure they could be)
It would be sweet and bitter as they do so well. Roles would not be set in stone. They would look like one and another more by the passing day, whatever it means to us and them.
He would not try to change her, and she the same. Eternity (a lasting one) and beauty (of their faces and hearts)

He likes to think she adores his touch (hopes so, or else he would have to stop), and himself very much enjoys the skin he caresses. A touch, for the truth ! She does not give, but words tell more than the meaning they have, for a second she is a book and he a scholar. A moment, an insight, he knows she is : her voice betrays the heart. Her heart is a jewel he will die wearing. (And she will have to live with his) He laughs as well at her masquerade, but the joy fades at the question. For it is a difficult one he is not sure to know the answer to. Abel's vision of love was simple and fake as it comes, that it would last the given time and no regrets should come with the ending - nothing more than a smile and a heartfelt goodbye. Tell yourself the lies you adore, Abel, but not all your loves ended in a warm farewell. Think of the mother and Caïn. The ones that mattered broke him the most. He does not know he is kneeling to a heartache. 'You jump to the deep stuff the first night ?' He delays with a smile. He knows he would lie. He does not wish to lie to her the first night (or any other). He answers. 'A heart broken by a lover is the softest pain of all heartaches. It faints. The heart is a muscle that can learn to love even if it never has' Love has many forms, and it never stays cold. 'It's not different from a woman. Nothing is.' (Society's eyes are)

'Yours was never broken, then ?' The tone is less than serious. She does not have to say more. He respects secrets.

She reads ever so easy - he opens to her by honest detours she avoids and straightens. Abel wants to see Zyña again, to hear her voice her thoughts, and laughs at his innocent mind. (She does as well. She kisses him) He blushes and reaches for her hips or waist, anything to sink his fingers into. It breaks and leaves him eager for another one (even her words do not fade his desire) 'That's your own breath! ' He does not mind - he lets out in a chuckle. 'Ah, I want to kiss you again.' He does, her tender neck. A soft an quick one.

'If we see each other again, you'd give me flowers ?' Another kiss. 'Take me somewhere with pretty candles and fancy food ?' (Her neck, again) 'If so, yes, I want to see you again.' He teases.

(Not a good position for his sorry back)
(But it is to kiss beauty, and beauty puts all pain aside)







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard




Dernière édition par Abel Orseund le Jeu 3 Oct - 12:12, édité 1 fois

Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Jeu 3 Oct - 3:02
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


There’s a real fascination behind her question. Sick curiosity too. The hag never weighted her words, didn’t think her clumsiness could be interpreted by brutality. Although, it’s all wrong. For once, she doesn’t confuse interest and intrusion. She respects his reluctance. Nothing about her past, or present if that matters, is magnificent either. “If I don’t do it now, then when will I? Shall I wait until we’re married with kids to talk about exes? Good news is we already have the kids’ part down.” Her laugh blends with her sip. Teasing him is so easy. Silence is her ally as he opens his scars. As much as she’s vulnerable now, he’s deadly naked as well. Solitude slowly waves goodbye. Having a comrade in the course of torment’s not so bad. It makes her feel less lonely, more humane somehow. His definition of love and heartbreak only blur her own emotions. How can she? Her heart’s defective; the whole system went down a long time ago. “Ah! never had the pleasure.” She replies casually as if they’re talking about the weather. But she can tell he had his heart smashed as many times as—or maybe more than—he had it mended. Making him somehow even more attracting in this newest light. There’s this lingering expectation hanging around that he’ll break her heart, to which she’ll happily comply. The only justice he can find in her actions is the satisfaction she’s as damaged as him. But he’s not petty. She reckons he’ll tell her to leave and never talk to him. Or think of him again, which she now cannot do now. The witch was bewitched and the Orseund spell’s too damn strong.

His grasp on her hips makes her deepen the kiss. And her fingertips travel on his hair, his skull, his skin. Anything she can hold onto.
They part.
Kiss me then.” And he does.
They meet again.

A feeble giggle escapes from her. Like a teenage girl discovering first love. Now so close to him that long blonde hair falls on his face. Her nose brushes his and then she’s drinking that intoxicating scent of his. “You do know I’m actually really rich?” There’s a whisper in her voice, deeply hidden behind a flirty smirk. Her lips are behind his ear. “I’ll buy you all the flowers. One of each.” Her turn to kiss his neck. Where there’s not enough skin to touch, her fingers hesitate to push the fabric of his shirt. Alas, she wasn’t tipsy yet for leaving her clothes. “It’d be a pretty ugly bouquet. But you can’t turn it down.” Her icing eyes search for her lips’ next victim. “I’ll bring you to all the best places.” Her hands cup his face and her mouth meets his repetitively. “And we’ll eat bad food but the wine will be good.” All that is a good dream; a day that will never come. As she’s certain they will never meet again after tonight. After all, hopes and lies always mixed up well together. It gives some kind of goal to reach for without living the deception of never reaching it. “Then promise me you’ll see me again. No matter what.Just to make sure. She rests her forehead in the crook of his neck and a warm breath fondles him. One last peck on his cheek and she straightens up. “Is this your back I hear cracking, old man?” And she’s laughing again. Feeling young for once. They’re both kids hiding behind a curtain waiting for the school bell to ring. That alarming sound that ends everything oh so suddenly. That’s a moment she will never rewind. She makes sure to remember all the little jokes, the certainty and every feeling she gets every time his mouth is on her. Before all these memories fade.

A privilege, it was. Really.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

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https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Jeu 3 Oct - 17:05




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

Sobriety assures him that the whims of their heart is nothing of alcohol. It is only by their own hands they slowly fall in love. But to love is a danger, as someone once sang. (It is surely true, but a danger so often encountered and so lovely from afar that they forgot it is pain) She is pain and danger all at once, it is fine with him. (Love or Venus, he is looking at Zyña and it is just the same)
Danger, she sticks her finger in the same open wound as earlier. He wishes she had not spoken of kids again, but broken hearts have nothing of a sweeter topic.  'Well, I hope this is the one and only pleasure I won't give you.' He was being cheeky and dumb, anything to fool the pain as he swore he won't drink so much this night. Midly innapropriate jokes do not come in a bottle, but they do just fine.

Ah, the kiss !
The taste of numerous sips and exchanged cigarettes.
(You only come to love when it is your well deserved poison)
Both of them embody so well Eros and Thanatos and it would be a crime to break their kiss, to part them. A soft embrace - young lovers under the cover of the night. Even they are far from their youth and this kiss is not their first. But it is tender to think so, Abel feels like the fussy brat he was once. Such an immersion in the past, you could smell green Valdierva, feel its soft wind of eternal spring, and a open-field bird spread its wings. He wishes she would never take her fingertips away (it is a touch he craves) and keep tracing love's pace on his skin. And under the woman's somewhat warmth Abel plays, sells his heart to a few trinckets he has no interest into. He wants to see her again - without a bargain. And she seems to enjoy playing as much as he does.
He melts against her. Her words, their joyful sin : he dreams of such a night. He would be nothing greater than the theater of her desires, and she would buy him pretty junk to keep his mind to her. (And even in this fantasy she would not need so much) They'd kiss ! It'd be enough ! As today. 'Food is never so bad ! Food is food.' (It sounded smarter and wiser in the secret of his head) And the fantasy weights more on the small kitchen as she rests her head and make him swear. His fingers play with a lock of blonde hair. 'Yes ! It can't be any other way.' Abel cursed himself to a poison-love he will learn to adore and wish to be eternal. 'But please, don't put me in a situation where I would want to never see you again.' Light tone, a charmer, but a condition that will be ignored by fate and time - he spoke too late.

It's alright.
For she laughs and he does, and the music of their joy is sweet. He rises up, annoyed on the surface, upset as a kid would be. A cigarette taken to his lips. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not young enough for you ? I'm sure I can hook you up with pretty and young soldiers.' A light comes to meet the cigarette. He sits on the edge of the wooden worktop. (Is he ?) 'My body's just acting up because it knows in five hours or so I'll have to go run for a bit.' Maybe he should not smoke, or drink but he does not care so much. His body holds up just fine. (It will, he hopes) 'Every morning. Not missed once.'






Too long I roam in the night
moodboard



Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Dim 6 Oct - 3:54
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


It’s all about pleasure, of course. Pleasure to be courted, pleasure of the flesh, pleasure of the company. Pursuing this train of thoughts, she hopes he’ll give plenty of it. Zyña does not shy away from this daring statement and even take it as a challenge. I’ll accept having my heart broken by you and you only.

There is a tiny second at this moment where their eyes meet and she asks herself how she got here. What was supposed to be a simple meeting between two friends became an unplanned make out session? She saw him as a simple transaction, another part of the business she kept hidden. And in the middle of it, she got caught in his pretty eyes and his simpering smile. The charm that makes even the coldest hearts warm. He must be quite the lady (and gentlemen)'s man. Even if these choices are carefully clothed behind a fine veil, she cannot remember when she decided Abel Orseund was a man she wanted to fall in love with. It’s all scary suddenly and oh so fast. All the stories of undying love become clear in her mind. It only takes one person at a precise time when you expect it the less to work the magic. She stands so close to holding him forever and yet the line of losing everything never seemed so fine. It’s a feeling she cannot convey with a kiss but a smile. Something as simple as a smile hoping these feelings will last. That even when you’ll hate me, you’ll love me. Even when you’ll know the truth, you’ll tell yourself lies so that I’m always in your mind. Her whispers whistle weakly but she knows he hears them. “No one can know the future.” Some sadness and tragedy hide in it. Now she’s rambling under her breath, talking to herself of secrets she always kept obscured. “I can go back in time but I can’t see what’s ahead of me.Only behind, that’s my one curse and gift. Although I may have an idea of where this is going; deep in abyss, underground and buried, dead as the winter trees.

So she leaves his touch to prevent herself from falling a little more. The space between them only deepens her expectations. She apprehends the lethal shock but enjoys the little time they have together. Time of laughs and flirts. “Yes, please, officer. Lock me up for the night with some nice young soldiers.” She teases him with a seductive smile. Just to tickle him a little. Her legs cross and her elbow rests on a table’s corner. Face in hands, the look she gives him should be illegal. “You can come too. I love sharing. I have a thing for old men in uniform, you know that already.She has a thing for you specially. She glances at her empty drink but finds no energy to fill it. She satisfies herself with oxygen and promises, leaving the honeyed poison out of her vision. Fidgety because of her dalliance, she leans to take off her heels. Naked feet touch his dirty floor but filth is the price to pay for comfort. This action serves her words. “I can think of another sport we can do to keep your mind awake. But I don’t mind watching you exercise. It’s a pleasure for my eyes.” She stops herself from laughing again. That would defy the entire purpose of making him red with embarrassment. She adds another layer and there’s another smile. “You have my lipstick all over you, want help cleaning that out?” The temptation to mark him more amuses her. She gets up and goes to him to (once again) take his cigarette off his lips and smoke it herself. He’s much taller than her, she has to tiptoe to get it. “I love sharing but you’re still not very good with that. I thought you’d give me at least one smoke. Or now that you know I’m rich you won’t offer me things anymore?” A fake expression of disappointment decorates her face. It’s so artificial a blind mind could see she’s playing another game. Venal woman, she doesn’t forget herself.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Dim 6 Oct - 16:44




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

He does not dare to sink so much in her eyes (he would risk seeing everything)  And love would come to him too early this night, he falls for her ten times a minute at this early state, more would mean offering is heart whole and tender. Yet, he knows her so little, and likes to think they do not need words. They do, they should voice everything and lay their secrets in the open this instant, for it will be too late tomorrow, Abel will be very much in love as he is often (or a little more) It is not much to his likes to put love on a scale, but he should look Cupid in his eyes and ask of his arrows. It has hypocrisy to say he loves one as another, a love is never the same. A simple truth he puts aside, for he loves with all his heart and does not want to see further. (Zyna will be of his greatest love) (If they part someday, her image and scent will have climbed so far, so high, he won't have a second alone without thinking she is so close as the corner of his eyes) 'But it'd be sweet.' To avoid greater pains, it would be sweet. He would have been a father (not only in the dreams), he would have still known  Zyña (it is predetermined).

Times around her wrist,
Her slave as much as he is.

He does not know much about her blood, not more than its colour, and learning that she could bend time leaves him in awe. He wonders how much easier his life would have been (a daughter, he'd still have) 'How do I not know we already had this talk, then ? eh ? Going back to have the perfect ending.' Half of a joke, he would not even mind if this moment is not their first, if it is not the first time she takes off her shoes in his kitchen, not the first time they kiss (to seek perfection is a human flaw) (or a humane flaw)

And sitting on the counter top, looking at her, Abel starts to imagine all the situations they could have been it. Is there one they never kissed ? (One where she tells the truth before their lips meet ?) 'Thank god I'm not you. I'd use it all the time.'

She knows so well how to make him shy under her gaze.
In his nature, it appears. Weak, for her touch, for her pointy words.
And for the way she flirts, with ease, for the looks she gives him. (May the night never stops) (Or may they have many more !) He blushes. 'I... You make me feel like a stupid teen. Please, stop.' A blush, a smile, his head burried in his palms. He feels heavy with fantasies he did not know he had. 'I don't think I'm good at sharing lovers. Isn't it the kind of thing that is better in your head, and lame once done ?' The cigarette keeps him steady, gives him the confidence he lacks in such situations. (It would be better to be without, but Abel would not be much of Abel without a hint of self-destruction) And she goes close to him, again, he does his best to calm the pink of his face. But Zyña does not allow it, he softly dies at her every words, finds himself almost begging to hear more of them. 'What is this other sport, then ? I don't think I've heard of it. You need to show me.' Playing dumb and sweet seems like a good option.

And again she takes she takes the butt from his lips, and he too wants to die between them. Almost too mesmerized to listen and hear her pleasant words (but he does, and reddens more and more) 'I'd give you the whole pack and even my shirt. You already know it !' And he leans, take the cigarette out of her fingers and throws it in the sink. He leans, and kisses her. His heart skips a beat. His fingers plays with hers.

He is fine with having lipstick all over, red is a pretty shade.
And it's hers ! He loves it.

A hand on her waist, the near back aching situation not on his mind, only her soft lips matter.







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard



Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 8 Oct - 20:32
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


Zyña never meant to reveal her secrets. She didn’t want to open her heart and slam all its content on the table. This one especially. Her relationship with Time is private. Just like Loneliness, they're special companions. She never tried to keep it hidden but it doesn’t mean she advertises it. There are not enough words in the Akkadian dictionary to express their intimacy. Nor is she able to put the right letters on it. As it is the bane of her existence and her only solace in this hellish world. For each needle pushed back, her hourglass quickens. You can see its ravages on her skin, or so she’s convinced that's what everyone sees. Soldiers wear scars and Chronos bear time. She was talking to herself, the way old ladies do when they’re rambling out loud. If she knew her voice was heard and if she saw Abel’s face when the words left her mind—she would have turned the clock upside down. And risk another piece of guilt rather than being a freak. “Because I regret telling you already. If we were back a few minutes ago, this feeling wouldn’t linger. Does that scare you? Do I scare you?” She remembers feeling like a monster the first time it happened. Lost and alone, the same minutes lived on repeat and she had no idea how to control it. She cried in confusion a lot. Hated herself for the first time too. The gods are tricksters, her mother used to say, but they are never cruel. Yes, but it is cruel to lock a little girl in a frame of time with no sewers to escape. Curiosity and experiences became her teachers and quickly; a cruel trickster she grew to be too. “Oh, I do it all the time.” She replies as half confession, half mockery of themselves. Using this totem of power to undo wrongdoings and erase mistakes is a humane motivation. The price to pay is brutal on her youth. She hates it as much as she loves it—just like him when the truth will be out—it embodies power and vulnerability at their best. The pondering hurts, it must stop. So she turns her head and swears not to talk about it anymore.

Instead, she makes jokes and watches him redden at her every comment. They’re both teens falling in love in the night. She takes his hand off his face and holds it delicately. She wants to see his face, his pinky cheeks, his sad eyes. Everything. The touch revives her memories. How can fingers so big feel so light on her skin? Another secret she’ll keep for herself. “Depends on the partners.” Her voice is sleek as velvet. He’s blushing and her heart’s racing. His play of innocence almost convinces her. But how could she forget the nineteen years old brat he calls his daughter? She shakes the thought away and shrugs. A false alarm rings on her face in the most overacting way. “Please, don’t tell me no one popped your cherry at your great age. What will I look like!

He throws the cigarette away and she almost calls him dumb. Well done, Abel, no one’s going to have it now. “How selfless, you ruined a—” She’s silenced by his lips. She’s out of words anyway. Her tongue does the talking. Their bodies are stuck together. His hand is on her waist and the other is her prisoner. She searches for air but finds none. Only desire and egoism call her name. Better than liquor and smokes, she finds her newest addiction on his lips. When they part, she’s high like a junkie out of drugs. She needs something to bring her back to reality. Quick! She thinks of all the things she doesn’t want to say and says them anyway. “Sometimes, I get lost. I forget myself in time and I don’t know when I am. Do you know how regular folks feel someone’s messing up with time?”  She murmurs to him, betraying her own seal of secrecy. “Déjà vu. I’m having a big sense of déjà vu here, although it’s for an entirely different reason.” She kisses him again. Her neck is sore with the stretching. Why did he have to be so tall? She despises him for the pain he puts her toes through. Yet, she wants more. Both her hands rest on his torso and fondle the fabric. Her head hangs right under his throat. His smell is delicious. Their eyes meet and spark. “Alright, you said you’d give me anything. I'll take your words on it. Give me your cigarettes and your shirt.” Her candid smile conceals the devil she really is. “Please.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Jeu 10 Oct - 11:09




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

Honest, red lips.
(Lips of a powerful deity)
For no one but a god rises above time, for it is the title a mortal man, that knows nothing about everything, gives (it is not his to give). Goddesses should not be reduced to a phenomenal beauty (but people love it so) Abel will call her by that name for possessing the incredible power she is reluctant to illustrate.
The prayers of the pious. He never did pray in a lifetime, but he had already fallen on his knees once this evening.
(For a presence, her existence)
How many whispers of worship to her ears ? (Ones he will offer and ones from previous lovers) 'I'm not scared of you.' As if it were obvious. It is only to him. A battle against time is beyound Abel's reach, and he has, as Atlas, a back bent by countless weight only he finds necessary. He does not imagine the weight it has on Zyña, but he has the courtesy to leave the subject to a few sentences exchanged after bitter drinks. It is better to leave the heartbreaking for another day (they had so much for a day) Better to be cheeky, better to melt under her gaze and not think of their sadness, they will have many night to share. It is nicer to do so, to put himself at the whims of her wits and malice, and the conversation takes from theater. Exageration in the spoken words and the tone. For a second, only one, Abel fears she fell for his fake innocence, fears she would believe something so obviously dumb. (Then he remembers who he is talking to) 'I'm not going to let you kiss me if you keep being this mean.' That old man tried to recall his first time but failed. Weak memory comes with old age. 'And I'm still a handsome man, it'll make you look good! Trust me.' A fake face of confidence he wears, knowing she probably does not need anyone to give a new shine to her ego. But it was a good evening, he learns to love his small kitchen under the new lights, and locks his lips with hers again.

Locked lips unlock secrets.

Abel's heart is beating fast for a reason he does not know, her touch or her confession ? He wishes he had the pretty words of a poet to tell such moments do feel that way when they are meant to happen. But it is late and this is Abel, he has as much eloquence an ancient cooking book has. (A kiss) A smile. 'We kiss too much, that's why.' There is something lost about love he finds again (like an old friend) on the top of her head. A moment that could have lasted the night broken by a malice he will learn to expect at every turn. Burning cheeks, a smile he is trying to hide behind chaste surprise. 'I should learn to watch my words around you ? A careless word and I'll be fully yours ?' But he does as she asks, leaving his pack of twenty to the side. A button after another, locking eyes. The man wishes he had another drink before doing so. The last one, and the shirt is given to the woman. 'That's my good one. Be nice to it.' He crosses his arm, not sure if he should hide his chest or let out a slight vanity. it is not a crime to love yourself, but his father and mother were much humble and they would laugh at their son for being somewhat precious. 'And what's the next thing you're gonna take ?' (He is not sure he has much to give) (But for her, he will search deep and offer everything)







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard



Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Sam 12 Oct - 18:09
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


He is not scared he says. Of what she can do, of who she is. The thought is wavering; she knows he will. It’s human nature to fear the things we don’t understand. She frightens herself sometimes. What she does to get what she wants defy all ethical laws. Her abilities coursing through her cursed blood changed the way she sees the world. Discovering power and finding herself invincible rotted her heart. If she doesn’t like something, she rewinds until she gets it perfectly. But this night doesn’t need to be relived as it is flawless already. From the warmth of the air to the teasing gaze they exchange, the moon can be jealous. For the sun will never look at her the way Abel watches her. Only with him, she gets this feeling; a monster she is not, the first draft is the last.

His cheekiness gets the best of her. A gamer she is, the cards she’ll shuffle. Between poker faces and hidden hands, she’ll keep him on his seat. Honesty can’t win all the plays. “I never said I wanted to kiss you.” The things she wants, she gets. Simple as that. Zyña doesn’t waste time—hers’ slipping already—She erases the hesitation, the uncertainty, and all the anxieties that stop men from jumping off the cliff. She’s a woman of action. And already, she’s impatient for their next embrace. Eager of the way their lips will meet again. She congratulates herself on pretending she doesn’t care. The face worn by the queen of masks tonight is slowly cracking. Let’s hope he will not see through it. Insensibility is a colossal part of her shtick.
And when they do. Sparks fly again.

She tells tales she should have drowned with years ago just to avoid the growing feelings that spring out of her. “Kissing you is annoying. Perhaps we should stop. What do you think?” She lies to play him a little more. To ruin him—that’s what she does to people. She scares them and breaks them for her only enjoyment. Yet, she finds a need to care for him. To shake him up a bit, to bring him back to life and then, cuddle him with all the affection she never gave. “But you’re already mine.” She doesn’t wait for confirmation. She knows he is. That’s how good she is at controlling people. What she doesn’t say is she’s his as much as he is hers. Abel and Zyña, Zyña and Abel. Their names tangle like fairytales and love songs. She doesn’t want to love him. But what else can she do but hear her heart stops to each of his breaths?

She contemplates the way his fingers unbutton his shirt and meet his eyes with a smirk. “I’m a businesswoman. I don’t misspell my contracts. You renounced your rights to modesty the moment we crossed the threshold of your house. That’s why you should never invite strangers to your home.” She takes his shirt but finds deception in his prudish behavior. From what a glance can see, his body is as beautiful as he is. She suspected he’d be strong but nothing prepared her for the muscled build he offers. “I’ll care for it as if it were my own.” So, she wears it on top of her dress where it falls on her arms. Too big for her and her slim silhouette. The weight of the fabric made the strap of her dress slide on one shoulder. She takes his chaste hands hiding his figure and surrounds them around her waist. She doesn’t need to think forever as she’s already aware of what she’ll take next. “Your virginity.” She tiptoes to kiss again. On the mouth, the neck, behind his ear, and whispers: “I’m alarmed by the lack of lipstick on your chest.” Although, she’s so tiny next to him she still needs to bend her knees a little to kiss his torso, many, many times. But the lack of redness on her lips leaves no traces on his skin. She’s baffled. Did they already kiss this much? If it were a movie, she’d stop her endeavors and reapply lipstick. But this is not a movie and she doesn’t want to stop.
She comes across a scar and she loses her smile as she straightens up. He’s a soldier, she’s reminded. A colonel, a fighter, a red. Not that any of that ever bothered her. For the first time tonight, she surprises herself: she realizes she doesn’t want to see him hurt. And she’ll kill anyone who causes him pain. Zyña can’t take her eyes off the scar while her soft fingertips brush the rough skin. Oh shit, she is falling fast and hard.


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.



Dernière édition par Zyña Braun le Mar 15 Oct - 19:16, édité 2 fois

Abel Orseund
ORDRE ECARLATE— those who seek blood —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 3149
AVATAR + © : SOFTY AV@TFDEMONCOEUR I@CASSIQUIMEFAITTROPRIRE G@METEORES
POINTS : 1831
· minuit se lève — abel A9c6f84467a386254cf8a4fcb23f96f2
AGE : FORTY-TWO, WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS EYES.
STATUT CIVIL : EROS AND THANATOS.
ORDRE ECARLATE
those who seek blood

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t2263-warm-mornings-grew-c https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1056-angels-deserve-to-di Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Dim 13 Oct - 10:41




minuit se lève
AND AS THE NIGHTS PASSED BY
SHE TRIED TO TRACE THE PAST
THE WAY HE USED TO LOOK
THE WAY HE USED TO LAUGH
(KIM WILDE, CAMBODIA. )

@zyña braun

To love the sweet, it is Abel’s nature. He was a child fed of small lemon cakes and good intentions, and it is not something that wears off fully, love for the good is slow in its distillery. But to the man who grows sweetness bores the tongue, for it is so often tasted - bitterness comes to be liked. A first sip of soft bitterness is the first sip of alcohol, it is a the aching kiss of the parting lovers, the thought coming to the mind of a good time being a good memory. And Zyna was not bitterness, but a bittersweet wonder he already knows how much he loves the taste. How soft the hand is against his cheek, but harsh are her words, and it is what he likes. Let her destroy everything she built with a gaze ! It comes as easy to him as to love her. He does (not fully tonight as he will). All it is a kiss, that they both try to make it less than it was. A kiss is near nothing, Abel has offered too many in a lifetime, he has loved so much and kiss as many times. Are all kisses the same ? Abel wonders, and the answer comes to him everytime their lips meet. But just in case, let’s do it again, just to know if it is real. 'Alright, alright, let’s stop. I’ve seen greater kissers.' It is to tease and to be like her (but it is an art he is not quite close to master) Tonight, to kiss is to love, and it is to have a good heart to wish to those two lovers a smooth and long road - but it is to have a rationnal to mind to tell them to think twice. A lover only knows pain. And this lover falls for the woman without thinking twice, as she said, he is hers. He does not mind.

Take him whole,
Keep him to yourself.

'I'm not that easy.' He himself knows how easy he is to have for the night, how easy his heart is to get - but to keep is harder. A changing heart, that sets only on a few truly (an easy bet that his is on Zyña) 'A pretty smile, fair hair, that's not enough. I already have all that.' A stupid smile, but a good one. It is long since the last time he was a brat (is this a good look on him ? Is it to be kept ?) Life seems like a stage this night, but do no think it is to say about some duplicity ! It is for the  sincerity of their nature they put before the other's eyes. To offer the truth of life, to offer their heart on a minimalistic stage : Zyña and Abel, the kitchen.

He goes on with the task, somewhat shy in what he does ever so often ! A blush, her gaze - a slight pride to feel like she enjoys the view. (And to be nothing more than a view for her is fine to him, he will learn that her love is rare but deep and true) She says something that makes Abel laugh, shy and young. He meets his end of the bargain, and she takes the shirt, puts it on her delicate frame. Something odd about such a large shirt, and the pretty dress (he does not know much about clothes so he keeps his mouth sealed) A faint protest when she keeps him from hiding, and the words she speaks makes him blush (again) 'Virginity ?' But it is not a time for questions, a kiss is given and he forgets about everything. Cheeky words that leaves Abel red and hot, a sensation of lust and ease he does not want to see fading. A shiver. A moment of bliss. Eyes closed. Please, never stop kissing me. Please ! Please me and I'll please you ! The woman rises and the soft lips part from him. He opens his eyes to witness a sad face. (A surprise to see an hint of vulnerability on her) It aches, deep in his chest, to see her worry.

He parts from her, in silence, and takes her in his arms, smiles to see her against him but only to leave her sitting on the kitchen's countertops. 'I don't remember how.' But he knows well the sound a bullet has, and just as much the pain it gives. 'It happens. You bend time. I fight. It doesn't even hurt.' The scars are to her wrinckles (but if only he could not have those too) He kisses the tip of her nose, and leaves one hand on her waist. To kiss and to hold her : his life could be only that and he would welcome this feeling everything with a heart anew. 'But I'll try to not add any to the old ones.'

A fool !
(A fool !)







Too long I roam in the night
moodboard



Zyña Braun
PERLES NOIRES— those who do business —
surface
inside
behind
MESSAGES : 1326
AVATAR + © : amanda seyfried / @sarah the mvp
POINTS : 3056
· minuit se lève — abel Screen_Shot_2018-10-25_at_11.02.15_AM
AGE : trente-quatre froides années.
STATUT CIVIL : un seul être peuple ses pensées.
PERLES NOIRES
those who do business

Feuille de personnage
TIMELINE:
COMPETENCES:
RELATIONS:
https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1118-fine-make-me-your-vi https://gods-will-fall.forumactif.com/t1300-time-will-now-stop Voir le profil de l'utilisateur

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Re: · minuit se lève — abel  |  Mar 15 Oct - 22:25
minuit se lève en haut des tours
les voix se taisent et tout devient aveugle et sourd
la nuit camoufle pour quelques heures
la zone sale et les épaves et la laideur


@ABEL ORSEUND


Maybe she teased him too much, maybe he’s tired of her. Maybe he’s sick and plays as a better contestant. Maybe they were lost in translation and he mistook jokes for complaints. Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss her ever again. He can’t! She won't allow it.
One of Zyña’s biggest flaw is to never get her tone right. When she wants to be scary, that’s when she’s sweet. And when she decides to show mercy, they call her a monster. A little bit of sarcasm and a handful spoon of distance was enough to scare her off. She fears this is their last kiss (only to share new ones a few minutes later). The selfish woman won’t let go. There’s no shame in chasing her own pleasure. It is a pleasant activity to make out with a pleasant man. One she’ll have difficulty to forget. Abel is wired into her brain for the next months to come. He cannot run nor escape out of her thoughts; he lays there as a prisoner of her mind.
She is a great kisser, she thinks continuously. It is to underestimate her and insult the delights she grants to say otherwise. “You just described my best features. I’d say you’re really into me and can’t wait to kiss me again. Even if you forgot my beautiful blue eyes.” Something’s happening during this night, in this lousy apartment, in this dirty kitchen, near his smile. Nothing she can pin down for now but she’s certain this smile will not be the last one she sees.

But then comes the devilish kisses, the ones she shouldn’t have given. Where her smile dampens, her desire blows up. There is a list of things she wants to do to him tonight but forgets the moment she touches the scar. He sees it, why does he see her so clearly? She finds pride in her lies and he likes to shut the masquerade down. He holds her so close she stops breathing. Is this a hug? She never cuddled a lover before. She kissed, slept, and did many other things she can’t say out loud. But something as simple as an embrace is a fucking breakthrough. There’s a warmth inside his arms she won’t find anywhere else. As if the sun itself comforts her and tells her she’s safe and heard.
She crinkles her nose with a shy smile when he kisses it. So gentle, she loves that about him. Then, nuzzles to find a place to hide somewhere in his arms. “I don’t care.” (That’s a lie) “I just forgot you’re the type of person who jumps into a fire to save puppies. You really are selfless, aren’t you? You will always get hurt for other people.” She tightens her embrace desperately, hides her face in his neck and tells herself it’s just another game and that she’ll forget him when the sun set.

He sits her on the countertop and finally, her eyes meet his height. Now, she regrets killing the mood with vain worries. When did she start caring for him so much? She can’t remember the exact moment. It’s a joke, a buffoonery, some sort of travesty, really, since she’s the master of seconds and wasted hours. Her mouth flirts with his but never crosses its gate while her fingers dance on his shoulders. “I have scars too. Wanna see them?” Her voice is so little, she barely hears herself. Torn with unexpected feelings, exposed by his words, defenseless to his gaze. There’s nothing she can do to protect herself. Of course, her best idea is to peel off layers of secrets and weaknesses to a man she swears she won’t see again. Just a game, right. For one night only.

Abel’s shirt falls completely out of her shoulders and becomes a belt behind her back. The cool air meets her skin and raises a chill. She inhales deeply and slides completely the straps of her dress. She unzips her dress on the side—so coy you can see the skin under her white bra but not enough for her to feel naked. She places his hand on her rib where three brownish points form a scar. For her previous lovers, she pretended they are prominent beauty marks but for Abel, she serves the truth. “This one is from Matrona. She practically raised me but she loved beating me up when I spoke too much. She’d use anything she had in hands. I think this time was a fork.” A dry laugh bursts. That’s what she does with her kids too, she’s reminded. But never as violent as did her mother-benefactor. Only to teach and punish, never to hurt and abuse. She loves all of these abandoned children from the bottom of her heart. She’s not sure Matrona or any of her adopted sisters and brothers ever loved her. Damn, she doesn’t know if her own siblings wanted her. Because her parents certainly didn’t. “And that’s —she pushes his hand behind her rib and reaches her back where a burn took up residence— from the girls I shared my room with. They spilled hot water on me in my sleep because they didn’t like my name. They said it was ugly.” She hates it too: Braun, Zyña; Zyña Braun. It’s not natural on the tongue, it asks for sounds no one wants to pronounce.
For the most part, her dress is still hovering her. Although the bottom rolled up and now exposes the biggest part of her thighs. She guides his hand there where the skin runs smooth and clean. Or creased like a hag? She takes a deep breath at his touch and exhales slowly to calm herself. Her heart’s racing against his. She takes his other hand and lays it on her neck, where the face begins, where signs of age first appeared. “And this is oldness. I’m getting old, Abel. Faster than I’d like.” This is a madwoman’s illusion, for she is young and beautiful at the age of thirty-three. Yet, the fear of time and the misuse of her powers reflect on her skin. Wrinkles and spots battle for space on her face. Zyña’s already a relic of the past. Ugly and useless. Like her name. Who wants to love an old thing?


élevé par un bandit, la rue, rue, rue. par le gang, par ma haine, t'as vu, vu?
j'les fume, fume, fume.


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