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 1love : Vancouver ((Ayame and Nakhti only please))

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Elysian Fields Forever
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Join date : 2012-03-24

PostSubject: 1love : Vancouver ((Ayame and Nakhti only please))   Thu Aug 02, 2012 5:02 pm

Ayame ran her fingers through her long wavy blonde hair as she sat before the mirror on the vanity table in her deluxe hotel suit in Vancouver Canada. She smiled vainly at her reflection and applied blood red lipstick to her perfectly sculpted lips, making them shine in the warm glow of the room. The crème silk robe slid off her shoulder a little revealing perfect pearly skin. Her long fingers smoothed over the skin in satisfaction at its flawless appearance. She hummed to herself and she gracefully stood from her chair and let the robe slide off her body, falling to the floor like a waterfall. Ayame ran her fingers over the outfits she had laid out for herself tonight...but which one? She smiled when her red eyes fell on the one in the center and she slipped on her undergarments before pulling on the skin tight black pants, the long white button up and black corset that cut just below her breasts. She finished off the outfit with a pair of black heels before returning to her vanity and making sure she looked absolutely perfect. Ayame Haruko would stand for nothing less than perfection.

Satisfied she rose in one fluid motion, grabbed her car keys and purse before heading out the door. She walked towards the elevator passing a few people in the long elegant hallway who gaped at her. Ayame didn’t grace them with her attention she kept her held high as she put on her sunglasses, her golden waves bouncing slightly as she walked. She pushed the button for the elevator and the door opened revealing a man, cell phone in hand.
“Yes and tell them to-“ he took one look at her “Marcus let me…I’ll call you back.”
He snapped the phone shut and smiled at her, trying to be charming “going down?”
“Yes” she said without another word and he just looked at her dumbstruck before his fingers fumbled to push the button. She noticed with amusement that this was actually his floor but he didn’t step out of the elevator, his brown eyes raked her body secretly from the side.
Men.

Without so much as a thank you Ayame stepped out of the elevator, her heels clicking on the marble floors of the grand lobby as she walked through the front. The valet was struggling to keep up with her, stumbling over his words.
“You’re car is…you’re car is ready Miss. Haruko like you requested” he held out the keys to her with shaking fingers and she snatched them from him without as much as a second glance. The man held open the door for her to the glossy black convertible and she slid in. Ayame waited impatiently for the door to be shut before she put the keys in the ignition, revved the engine and took off. The night sky was warm and she took off her sunglasses since she didn’t have to hide her eyes from the pathetic humans. If she had it her way she wouldn’t wear them at all but she couldn’t attract all sorts of attention to herself. Misao wouldn’t be pleased. She was still waiting for the vampiress to contact her when they would finally start but she knew she had to be patient. Soon…soon enough it would be the vampire that made the rules the humans would follow not the other way around. Soon she wouldn’t have to hide for their sake and they would bow down and worship her like the goddess she was. Ayame smirked at the thought and continued speeding down the street.

The car smoothly pulled into a parking spot outside a busy club. She had been hired last week to come sing for them they had heard she could draw a big crowd. She agreed on one condition, that they pay her air fare, hotel prices and for the car she was now driving. They had agreed reluctantly but by the crowds she was drawing for them they had offered her more money if she would stay an extra week. Ayame shut the car door and walked past the line of humans that were waiting to get inside. She walked right up the bouncer who quickly undid the red velvet rope for her.
“Miss. Haruko”
She glided past him and into the club that was already crammed with people. Ayame walked to the back through a door that said ‘Employees Only.’
The floor was a shiny black that reflected her image perfectly and the ceiling was covered with mirrors, the walls were a warm red. She walked down to the end of the hall to the private dressing room she insisted on. Ayame walked in and saw her “boss” standing in the middle of the room looking slightly impatient.
She slammed the door, annoyed now.
“What have I told you about being in my dressing room James?” she demanded icily and she walked past him
“Y-yes I know” he said nervously “But you’re late”
He waited for a response, when she gave none he continued “I told…I asked you not to be late anymore and –“
Ayame eyed him sharply making him shrink back “do my performances displease you?” she took a slow step towards him.
He shook his head
“Do the crowds of people upset you?” another step
“No” beads of sweat formed on his forehead
“How about the thousands of dollars I bring in for you every night?”
“Of course not I-“
“Then I suggest” her voice was cold as she took the last step, leaving only inches of space between them “you get out.”
He was afraid of her, he knew she could make or break his business. If she stayed she would make him a lot of money. If she left it would anger the crowds who had grown fond of her.
James hurriedly left and she looked at the ridiculous costume he had laid out for her. Her red eyes narrowed, they were getting more revealing every time. Why should she grace the humans with her half naked form? No they were lucky enough she was appearing before them and taking her precious time to sing for them. She picked up the garment and threw it to the other side of the room with a flick of her wrist. She ran her fingers through her hair and checked her reflection once more before walking out of the dressing room towards the door that would lead her backstage.

She walked out on the small stage and the crowd burst into uproarious applause, screaming and yelling for her. Ayame grabbed the microphone and started singing as her music burst through the speakers. More and more people crammed into the club as she performed their hands reaching towards her, an insane obsession in their eyes as they looked up at her. She sang fewer songs then she was supposed to but she didn’t follow the rules that were set by a human. Ayame did what she wanted when she wanted. She sang four songs before throwing the microphone into the crowd, greedy hands grabbed and lunged for it, and she walked off stage. Ayame headed for the back door and she heard James scuttling after her.
“You, you’re not done performing yet”
“Oh yes I am” she said with cold finality before shoving open the door and walking into the night air. He wouldn’t dare fire her, he couldn’t afford to.

Ayame started walking to her car when she smelled a blood so sweet, so tempting that she couldn’t resist. She turned in the opposite direction of her waiting vehicle and walked down the crowded streets, her red eyes burning with thirst. It smelled of rich spices, a hint of vanilla and something a little sweeter. Ayame walked to a park since it was empty and dark, the perfect place. Dinner under the moonlight. A smirk played on her lips as she jumped up into a tree and perched herself delicately on a tree branch. She parted her lips and sang an unbearably sweet song, calling the host of the sweet red liquid to her. After a few minutes a young woman came running through the park panting, sweat collecting on her brow and the back of her neck. Ayame smiled and jumped down from the tree and landed in front of her. The girl seemed a little startled but admiration and longing was in her eyes and she fell to her knees before Ayame.
“It was you who was singing?” she asked bewildered “are you an angel?”
Ayame tossed back her golden waves and laughed, the sound rang through the air like silver bells “Oh no, I’m no angel.”
She gripped the girl by the collar of her shirt and lifted her off the ground, her perfect lips inches away from the girls neck. She could hear the blood pulsing just beneath the thin layer of skin. She could practically feel the hot, sweet liquid flowing down her throat.


--


Nakhti

Ivory fingers laced behind his head, Nakhti leaned back in the oak-colored leather office chair in the wide and spacious corner office. His desk faced a wall with a window spanning the length of it; there were white blinds for the window that hung at its sides. Sun rayed through it and toppled over a leather sofa—dark in color—that lined the far wall just under the window. Nakhti turned his head to the left: there was a series of floor-to-ceiling windows all along this wall with the blinds closed to these ones. Behind him was a mahogany bookcase crammed with books—however they were all organized and dusted. Not by Nakhti’s hand of course, but by one of the maids who were hired to do so. The spines of these books were all of different colors, textures, eras, and languages and Nakhti was proud of them even though he didn’t pick them up for reading. He actually didn’t like to read much but he did like the intelligence and taste these books portrayed him with. Nakhti was a proud individual in the first place; he liked to think that someone told to wait for him in his office would take a moment to sit on the leather sofa and sort, briefly, through the shallow magazines on the coffee table before it before rising and looking around the room. He liked to think they would come upon the books and find themselves in awe due to the fact that there were languages on this shelf that they did not understand—many in fact. Nakhti smirked with the satisfying thought in his head. His eyes were on the pale, boring, white ceiling. I should tell them to bring someone in the paint the ceiling like a tapestry. This idea agreed with him and Nakhti began to daydream of what might be painted there: an illusion of sky, or a forest canopy, or perhaps something more mythological—Hercules taking on the three headed dog, Cerberus, or perhaps something less violent—Aphrodite in Ares’s firm embrace… yes, that was certainly the one. It had pertinence to Nakhti’s life—with that thought Nakhti decided maybe not Ares and Aphrodite. Did he need a reminder of Ayame hanging over his head when there already was one hanging over his heart?

Annoyed now, Nakhti sat upright and slammed an open desk drawer shut. She just can’t leave my thoughts for a moment can she? He was partially mad at Ayame herself, after all, if she had stayed put on the other side of the Nile they would be where they were right now. He wouldn’t be where he was right now. Standing, the chair rolled backward almost by itself; Nakhti didn’t bother to organize his papers—he wasn’t the type to organize. There was a glossy black brief case under the desk but Nakhti only really had that for show or if he wanted to carry important papers to a meeting—he never took it home with him; if there was something he needed to look over he could do it in his head, he was a vampire and so his memory was better than any old human’s. Nakhti walked over to his wall bracketed coat rack and slipped his tie over his head and hung it on an empty rung next to his black Armani suit jacket. He thought for a moment as he unbuttoned the first four translucent buttons on his white dress shirt, and then decided to take the jacket with him. He liked it too much for an envious coworker to steal it from his office. Draping it over his arm, he exited the office closing the door behind him. In the next room Nakhti brushed past his secretary’s desk. She had left long ago—just after nightfall—the hour of the day no longer mattered to Nakhti; often, he would occasionally look out his windows just to see the position of the sun before going back to his work and scribbling something down.

He closed the door to his secretary’s space with a click and turned left past the cubicles toward the elevator. However, Nakhti didn’t much like elevators—they involved staying still for longer periods of time than Nakhti appreciated—so he took the stairs next to them. He did like the stairs. He had an opportunity to rush down the steps at an inhuman rate. No one would see him: the humans in this building rarely ever used the stairs due to their high heels or dress slacks. But Nakhti didn’t care about his pants enough to worry that the stairs might get them dusty—plus he was likely moving too fast for the lint to cling. Twenty-eight floors weren’t so many to run down anyway.

In the lobby Nakhti’s two fingers hooked under the collar of the suit jacket and hung it over his shoulder. He passed the revolving door and stood on the sidewalk in the night. The air tonight tasted fantastic. Nakhti didn’t have to look very far to see where he had parked. Parallel. Directly in front of the main entrance. Grinning at his car, Nakhti pulled the keys out his pocket and unlocked the passenger side door. Gingerly he folded the jacket into thirds in the seat and then leaned over to turn the car on. He rolled the windows all the way down and, with his index finger, he pressed a button just below the lever that would switch the car’s gears. He watched with almost bored eyes as the top when down. Once it was down Nakhti straightened out and closed the passenger door. One hand grabbed the windshield while the other pressed against the space directly between the headrests and Nakhti’s body swung into the driver’s seat. Immediately shifting into reverse, Nakhti was out of the parking spot in no time at all. He cruised in streets listening to the sound of the fiery red SA Aperta Ferrari’s engine as it revved, changed gears, came to a stop, started back up—if there was one thing Nakhti loved nowadays it was certainly this car.

As he drove along the night-lit roads—faster than was legal, much faster—he abruptly caught wind of something that made his mouth water. The Ferrari came to a halt; it screeched and left tire marks on the pavement but Nakhti wasn’t diverted. Unlike the driver behind him. A silver Honda Fit came careening just behind him screeching, the driver cussing wildly but Nakhti paid him no mind. Only turned the wheel and shot down an alley like an arrow just seconds before the two cars would have made contact. The driver of the Honda now stepped out of the car as it had halted and shouted at Nakhti but, again, Nakhti ignored him completely. He was on the hunt.

The delectable smell was a woman in her late 20’s in a black pencil skirt with a slit up the side—which Nakhti’s eyes devoured—a pair of black flats and a sparkly silver V-neck top. Between her breasts was a sterling cross—Nakhti couldn’t help scoffing at that. Jesus can’t help you now lady. Nakhti could hear a conversation between her and the four other girls of about the same age gathered around her.
“Sam, you need to forget about him! Let’s just have fun tonight!”
“Yeah! Come on girl—and you’re gonna love this club!”
“And take off that cross while you’re at it will ya? You look like a damned daddy’s girl.”
“Maybe you’ll even pick up a guy tonight! Wouldn’t that be just like a slap in the face to stupid, ol’ Jack?”
“Maybe girls, but I’d honestly rather just slap him myself.”
There was a chorus of ‘Atta girl!’s and ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’s and ‘There’s the Sam I know!’s. Just as Nakhti was about to make his move and swoop in the girl’s head suddenly jerked up, she apologized to her friends and excused herself before taking off at a run. What in hellfire… Nakhti had no choice but to follow her. He sped up and shot off into the night after the woman. He was disappointed to see her disappear into the park. That meant he would have to continue the chase on foot. He frowned as he parked and put the roof back up along with the windows. Her potent scent hung fresh in the air and was easy to follow. Nakhti noticed there had been another sound tainting the night air that had ceased—he only realized it now that it was gone. It must have been so familiar that he had tuned it out. Before he had taken more than two steps into the park he smelled the fragrance of another vampire. He stopped dead in his tracks and changed his path so that he would come upon the human and the vampire from the opposite direction.

When he found them, Sam was already in the vampire’s clutches and the vampire was… Ayame. There was no denying it, even from the back and lit by only the pale light of the moon, this was his Ayame. Nakhti took a second to square off his shoulders before moving soundlessly forward and positioning himself in a place where he could be more easily seen by Ayame. He leaned up against a regular old Oak tree, his legs crossed casually where he stood but there was a lethal gleam to his eyes. Nakhti felt his rage beginning to boil; it was only a matter of time before it overflowed.

Waiting until her lips only just brushed the human’s throat, Nakhti parted his lips and let his rich, melodic voice take a firm hold of the quiet that was the night forest. As he spoke he could hear his words echoing back to him and he vainly took it in with a pinch of selfish pride, "Glad to see you've been enjoying yourself." Nakhti's tone was calm, collected, you could even say normal. But there was a fierce edge in his eyes that could cut glass. "Especially while I've gone to great lengths looking for you across the globe," He wondered if she had any idea of how often she was in his thoughts and he harshly doubted it. He would never let her know that either—he wouldn't let her see how important she was to him. Was. Nakhti’s eyes could have melted rubber and behind them there were many unanswered questions and a grudge that had been stirring around his mind and being for centuries.
"...Ayame."



--



Ayame

Ayame’s lips barely brushed the surface of the girl’s neck when a voice, a voice that was all too familiar and at the same time so foreign to her, interrupted her dinner. Her finger nails dug into the girl’s skin in fury, who dared to disrupt her? The girl cried out in pain but the vampiress no longer heard her as she turned her eyes towards the intruder. Shock gripped her for the first time in years. Leaning against the tree casually, with red eyes burning with rage was…Nakhti.
How long had she waited for this moment? How many nights had she looked up at the sky and secretly wished he was with her? Though it wasn’t love, relief, or happiness that filled her heart at the sight of him. Fury. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And he had scorned her, abandoning her after selfishly tricking her to immortality! He had the nerve to stand there with his eyes contradicting and blaming her.

Her grip on the girl hardened until the bones in her arm snapped making her give one cry before going limp from the pain. Ayame let the body drop to the floor; she no longer had an appetite. Rage coursed through her like a wild fire, her fingers forcibly relaxed at her sides as she used every ounce of self control to slip into a cool posture and not lunge for his throat.
“Is that so…” she finally spoke in an icy voice that sliced through the air “…Nakhti” she said his name with has much anger as he had hers.
She could remember his words so clearly as the stood on the banks of the Nile, the kingdom collapsing in a fantastic show of smoke and screams.
I’ll come for you. I promise.
She had trusted him and he left her…waiting for him.
“I was wondering when you were going to fulfill your promise. My Love” she said the last two words with mocking hatred, wondering if he even remembered how he used to call her that in the late hours of their tender embraces. Then again she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t, after all she was just a toy to him. He claimed he loved her, stole her life and abandoned her. Sure he loved her, just as much as he loved the dirt beneath his expensive shoes.

Her red eyes bored into his and she never felt so much hatred towards someone. She watched silently as he leaned against that fucking tree like he owned the damn world. He wasn’t the Pharaohs son anymore though she was sure he still strutted around like the proud peacock he was. The wind pulled at their clothing and his scent wafted over to her and it was just as she remembered it. For just a fraction of a second her eyes softened at the memories that assailed her. Even the way he had said her name despite the fury in it, it was still her name on his lips. She straightened her back once again masking her eyes quickly before he could see the weakness of love in them. Once a woman always a woman she thought bitterly.

“ You’ve gone to great lengths?” she repeated arching a brow before adding sarcastically “Yes…I can see that. Perhaps if you had kept your word you wouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble. ”
She crossed her arms assuming a casual pose that almost mirrored his.
“I suppose I’m only surprised that you’re actually doing work yourself. You’ve grown up from the pampered palace brat I once knew.”
She kept her voice as even as possible not wanting to give him the satisfaction of just how much he angered her. Her eyes took in the fancy suit he wore and a smirk twitched the corners of her lips
“Or maybe you haven’t changed that much after all.”

Ayame flipped her golden hair over her shoulder and looked down at the body before bending down and grabbing the unconscious girl by the hair and tossing it over at Nakhtis' feet. The human landed with a hard thump and a moan escaped her lips as blood trickled down the side of her face. The sweet scent perfumed the air and the light pang of hunger stung her throat but she couldn’t imagine eating at a time like this.
“Here” she said coolly
She brushed her hands off on her pants once before walking forward until she was right in front of him. He was so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to, she could stretch up on her toes and kiss him if she so desired. Her fingers twitched slightly at the idea but she kept her eyes hard and cold.
“For you triumph at finally finding me. Enjoy.”
She brushed passed him, their shoulders just barely touching and self loathing burned through her for feeling the way she did when they were this close.
Despite the hatred between the two of them she didn’t know that seeing him would feel this good. Of course he still looked the same but her memory hadn’t done him justice. Then again most of her memories with him were human and a lot of them were muddy. Only a few select ones could she still look back on clearly.



--



Her shimmering red eyes held all the hatred Ayame’s tiny body could bear and Nakhti internally chided himself for feeling turned on. Still though, his anger boiled as if over fire but Nakhti kept his cool against his tree no matter how many times she said, “my love” . The words felt like a band aid being torn off with enough force to take the skin off with it.

A, somehow, elegant scoff left his lips.
“First of all, I have always been a man of my word and second, I’m no longer the young man you used to know.” Nakhti replied, correcting the terminology Ayame had so carelessly thrown at him. But that was Ayame: careless and callous.

Speaking of, haphazardly Ayame scooped up the young woman she had nearly killed in her own anger and tossed her at his feet. Nakhti didn’t move. He looked at the bloody girl and then back at Ayame.
With a cocky, sarcastic grin he said, “You missed.”
However, Ayame continued to speak as if he hadn’t said anything at all and proceeded to stand directly in front of him. In front of him like she had been years ago, he almost expected her to rise to her tip-toes and give him a peck—but then reality dawned on him and he forgot the thought.

“For your triumph at finally finding me. Enjoy.”

He laughed out loud. “Trust me, love, this—“ Nakhti toed the dying woman with one shoed foot; she rolled involuntarily to her side with a moan. “—is not a gift. I could have done that myself. I suppose I had imagined my ‘gift’ would have been you.” He paused, letting that sink in; the word ‘you’ stung his own ears with acid and Nakhti took time to enjoy the feeling. “But I suppose it’s you who hasn’t changed at all. Still not thinking about your actions or giving a damn about anybody else. What else is new?” Nakhti hated the slight brush of her shoulder against him, it was so… so... anticlimactic compared to what he wanted from her.

Pissed as he was, he still wanted some appreciation from her. And he now decided to voice it. “I don’t understand where all this malice in your eyes is coming from. It’s not as if I betrayed you. It’s not as if I wasn’t the one who gave you this immortal life—“ Nakhti’s eyes blazed as his voice rose. “—I could have had any other girl, but I chose you. I saw something different in you, something I had thought was special but now I see was infidelity. A lack of loyalty, appreciation, for others. If I could do it all over, I would! And I would have had you at the very least exiled from the kingdom.” It was evident in his gestures, in his features and in his tone of voice that Nakhti had officially lost his cool. His crimson irises gleamed like dancing flames. “But do you know what the worst part of it all is?” Cruelly, he gave her a moment—a fraction of a moment—before cutting her off if she dared to answer.

“Of course you don’t, so I’ll explain. When I was in Rome, or Osaka, or Barcelona, late at night in a hotel room with some gorgeous woman lying naked—asleep—beside me, all I could do was stare out at the dark, star-speckled sky and think of you. And wonder…” Suddenly the reverent tone in Nakhti’s far-off gaze faded as he found her eyes again and took back its fiery animosity. “Wonder how you had met your end. If you had had the chance to see the stars one last time, and how much I pitied myself for being the one who would have to moved on without you.” Shrugging, he pushed himself from the tree. “Only to find you here: unmarked, unscathed and angry—for God knows what reason.” He raised his palms up toward the sky on that. “And you know what else?” His eyes held something else in them now, mischief? Suddenly he had her pinned against a tree. So suddenly that the tree hesitated as if in shock and gave them a moment to stare into each other’s eyes before shivering and casting down green leaves. Nakhti’s breath was hot and heavy as it hung in the air. He secretly took immense pleasure in having this kind of contact with Ayame but he greedily kept the feeling to himself.

“The worst part of it is, no matter how hard I tried or how angry I became, I couldn’t bring myself to regret loving you.” He stayed there, in that intimate closeness, for only moments before pushing himself off of her in disgust.



--



Ayame

Ayame boiled with anger. He thought she didn’t give a damn about anybody else? She loved him more than anything! All she cared about was him, she would have gone to the ends of the Earth and back again and he had the nerve to say she didn’t give a damn? He started speaking though and on instinct she stopped to listen to him and she hated that. She hated that she wanted to hear his voice and that she didn’t want this meeting to end no matter how terrible it was. Ayame kept her shoulders square as she listened to his hateful words. However she turned sharply on her heel when he said that he was the one who gave her immortality, as if it was so goddamn blessing! Was he so blind? Did he think what he had done to her was right? That it was just and selfless.

She couldn’t bring herself to speak, she was so furious at those few words that left his mouth. Her eyes no longer bothered to conceal that emotion as he continued to speak. The more he spoke the more her fury burned inside of her like a wild fire and it was on the verge of boiling over. Her shaking hands balled into fists at her side as he accused her of infidelity. She was sure he thought he could harm her by describing a moment when he was naked with another woman in bed but it didn’t. Nakhti had always been that way even when they were in love. He thought she never knew that when they weren’t sleeping together he would whisk other servant girls to his bed chambers. That was something she had gotten used to but still it stung to hear him say it out loud and admit that he had gotten over her. When she still hadn’t.

Before she knew it then he had his hands on her and she was pinned against the tree. Warmth pooled in her stomach and her eyes darkened with desire but she glared venomously at him staying stiff and cold against his touch no matter how much she wanted to feel it. His sweet breath tickled her face and she tried her best not to breathe in the intoxicating scent. The feeling of his hands on her brought back floods of emotion and it took all she had not to run her fingers through his thick dark hair like she had done so many times in the past. The look of disgust brought her out of her memories and the seemingly permanent feeling of fury replaced any other emotion.

He pushed away from her and she tried to collect her thoughts no longer bothering to keep her cool.
“You act as if this immorality is a gift” she snapped “do you think this is what I wanted? Do you think this is what anyone would have wanted? You selfishly took my life from me! You tricked me. Of course when you asked if I would stay with you forever I didn’t think you meant… this . Not to mention that ability of yours that you used to force me to fall in love with you!”
She took a step closer to him “stop acting like you’re some fucking God! You think you were doing me favor by turning me? Who would want this? Because you were cursed with it you just had to drag someone else down with you. You’re right…I feel so special ” she spat the word and glared up at him hating how much taller he was.

“You’re that much of a imbecile that you don’t know why I’m angry” she repeated incredulously “you abandoned me! What, did you think I’d take it like a champ and be all forgiving? I waited for you! Your father ordered men to tear apart my village; they raped women and took me along with the other children as slaves. Just so you could have some pretty servant girls to do whatever you commanded. You made me fall in love with you; you take my life away then abandon me. Not knowing what I am or what was going on or where you were.”
She laughed humorlessly “and you honestly can’t figure out why I’m angry! While all this time you’ve been sleeping with women, roaming the world having a fantastic time pretending like you were searching high and low for me just so you could feel better about yourself.”

Ayame couldn’t stop herself she ran at him in her anger and took him to the ground pinning him there.
“Well here I am baby” she breathed angrily, her fingers tightening around his wrists “You want me well fine. You took everything else I have you might as well take me too. After all… you went to such great lengths to find me you’re not going to take your prize?”
Her nails dug into his skin, her hair fell over her shoulders creating a curtain around their faces, hiding the rest of the world from view.
“You’re not used to bearing the guilt for problems; you’re not used to taking responsibility for things. You’ve been pampered your whole life. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you would blame me for this. You’re nothing. Every time something goes wrong you look to someone else to blame it on because you’re not man enough to take it into your own, pristine polished hands. Afraid you might wrinkle your suit.”

She glared down at him not sure what to do next. Leave? Ayame didn’t know if she could physically do that. It was Nakhti after all.
“You’re the disloyal one” she whispered harshly “I never stopped loving you. I sang for you every night hoping you’d hear me and you gave up so easily thinking I was dead. Bullshit, you hoped I was dead. One less responsibility that wouldn't dirty up your hands.”


--



Nakhti

His body stiffened as Ayame brought up his ability but he didn’t stop her. I had to have you, he wanted to say but didn’t. Nakhti tried to argue back and state his case—several times—but he found that Ayame was a runaway train barreling her way verbally toward him. And he didn’t interrupt her because, through his own anger he was impressed. The old Ayame he knew never would have spoke to him this way, let alone to anyone this way. So it took him completely off guard and out of his reverie when she pounced on him and even brought him to the ground. She was strong too, the year had treated her well and she seemed to have taken the time to work on her fighting skills.

Having her on top of him made feelings that were incredibly inappropriate for the moment bubble up inside him like boiling water in a searing pot. He struggled to keep the water from bursting over the lid because the alternative was not option. He let her take his wrists and dig her nails into his skin—which actually helped him maintain his struggle with himself and he was suddenly very glad that Ayame couldn’t read his thoughts.

However he couldn’t help letting out a gasp when her hair fell past her shoulder, it was so abrupt and so gentle unlike the rest of the situation that was transpiring that it surprised him. Oddly enough it was only now that he realized how beautiful she had become because, she certainly had not been this lovely before. Even though she was giving him the talking to of his life, he couldn’t stop seeing her as Ayame: his nightingale, his flower, his Ayame. Nakhti forgot to fight back for several moments and he wasn’t quite hearing her, he came back into the conversation around: “—you’re not man enough to take it into your own, pristine polished hands. Afraid you might wrinkle your suit.”

And he was angry all over again. “Since when do you know anything about being a man? Last I checked, baby, you’re a woman.” He cast a point glance at where she sat on his body; then she was in his ear whispering that he had been disloyal. Nakhti’s brow furrowed in disbelief, had she been listening at all?

“You don’t know the first thing about ANYTHING!” Nakhti roared in fuming dismay. “In case you haven’t added properly let me just point out that I have not been prince of anything for a very long time! I haven’t had anything handed to me! Not that you would know that or even think about that. You don’t think I looked for you? That I wanted you? What is wrong with you? Of course I did! Damn it, Ayame! I’ve been in love with you all this time! But, Jesus! A man can’t try to move on after four thousand some-odd years? I guess not in your book. What would you have had me do? I looked EVERYWHERE! I all but tore Japan apart looking for you. I didn’t finally come to grips with the fact that you must have been dead until twenty years ago and even then I didn’t fully believe it! I couldn’t fucking believe it! Damn it, Ayame! Don’t you dare call me disloyal! I’ve never been so loyal to anyone in my life! And for what? So you could just run off and have some fun? It doesn’t matter—to you—I guess. You clearly couldn’t give two shits about me. You should have just stayed put on the other side of the Nile where I left you!”

With a frustrated shout Nakhti turned his body quickly and was suddenly on top of Ayame. With his wrists still in her grasp he pressed his hands down on her shoulders and brought up his knees to hold her thighs down. “Ayame, I would have turned the world over for you—hell I thought I had! And if you thought I would have just given up you seriously misjudged my character.” A dark creature crept up behind his eyes like a caged shadow and his tone changed suddenly to a restrained hiss. “What was it that kept you from me? Was it another man? Was that it?” And now his volume was returning. “Because that would make perfect sense! That’s why I couldn’t find you.”[/i] Then they were up against a thick pine tree with sticky, sap-covered bark digging into Nakhti’s fingers from where they wrapped around Ayame’s shoulders. “You talk so much about me, ‘why did I find you?’” He mocked. “Well… what. About. You?” He said each word with purpose. “Why didn’t you come for me? It wasn’t like I was lying low, well? Where is he?” Nakhti scoffed suddenly. “Or she, it’s not like I know you very well anymore.” A brief pause fell between them and when Nakhti spoke again his voice lowered but maintained a kind of simmering anger in its quietness. His eyes burned darkly and his mouth was taut. “As for this prize?” He spat full of disdain. “I won’t have it. I don’t want it.” A lie but a necessary one and, at this moment, he didn’t want his prize. He backed away from her. “I don’t know what happened all those years ago, don’t you get it? You’ve always thought I had all the answers but I don’t! And I don’t want something that belongs to another man. I either want you all to myself or not at all.”



--

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PostSubject: Re: 1love : Vancouver ((Ayame and Nakhti only please))   Thu Aug 02, 2012 5:03 pm

Ayame

His anger exploded from nowhere and it took her by surprise. He had always had a temper but not like this, never like this. Especially never with her. Ayame couldn’t remember a time he even raised his voice at her but that was another time and another place. She loathed admitting it but everything he was saying was…right. It was a long time and even she thought he might have been dead at some point but it was just too hard to believe.
“Damn it, Ayame! I’ve been In love with you this whole time!”
For the first time her eyes let go of the fury and she was taken aback. Not sure how to feel about that. Pleased, angry, upset or sad…happy?
The passion in his voice was the most intense emotion he had ever shown her and had never wanted to feel his lips against hers than more than she did at that moment. His eyes blazed into hers and she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to, her fingers loosened on his wrists.

Ayame’s eyes narrowed when he told her she should have stayed put, she wanted to counter argue that he was the one that told her to swim! It had been too dangerous for her to stay, they both knew that. It wasn’t like he told her where to go, she had waited on the shore for him and when he never came…
Her thoughts were cut off when he rolled over and was on top of her, a gasp left her lips in a whisper. The press of his body against hers brought so many feelings that made her skin tingle where he touched it. He was suddenly accusing her of being with another man. Another man! Was he not just the one revealing boasting even that he had been in bed with another woman? Her eyes narrowed again and her fingers clenched into fists, her muscles feeling like tight, hard coils beneath his lean body. She hated how good looking he was. Hated it as much as she loved it.

Before she could even hope to gather herself they were suddenly up against the tree, splinters of bark flew around them from the force of impact. If it hurt she didn’t notice, she didn’t notice anything but him. He then asked why she hadn’t come looking for him and it made her freeze. She…had never thought to look for him. When she had left the kingdom was in shambles and when he didn’t end up coming for her she didn’t think he was alive. She thought he must have died in the chaos. He scoffed demanding to know where the man or woman was that she was supposedly with. Nakhti let her go and she desperately wanted the contact back even if it was violent.

His words were like a physical blow and she tried to keep herself together. He didn’t want her. Why did that hurt so much? Why did it have to hurt so much? He backed away from her but she stayed where she was not sure if she wanted to run towards him or away from him. She was quiet for a moment, speechless, by everything he said. Ayame let it all sink in trying to figure this all out but she wasn’t sure what to say.

“I don’t belong to another man” she finally spoke after a long moment trying to keep her voice calm as it shook slightly “there’s never been another man or woman in my life” her voice tightened “though you don’t seem to have a problem sleeping with other women. What, you’re allowed to be with others but I’m not?”
She straightened up and ignored the wood chippings in her hair “You just told me moments ago that you were lying in bed with a naked woman. I’m not allowed to lay with another man?”
Truth of the matter she didn’t want to lay beside another person if it wasn’t him. She didn’t want to feel someone’s skin pressing against hers if it wasn’t his.

Her eyes took him in for a moment, really took him in. His hair was slightly ruffled now and his suit wrinkled. She could see the outline of his muscles gently through it, she studied the curve of his throat as it disappeared through the collar of the shirt. Ayame brought her eyes back up to his not knowing what it was he wanted her to say or what she even wanted to say to him.

“You’re right I didn’t go looking for you” she admitted lifting her chin “I didn’t go because I thought they had killed you. You told me not to come back so I didn’t, you told me to wait and I did but when you never came for me…I was young still and naive. I didn’t understand anything about what I had become. For all I knew we could have been easily killed just as any human. Everything was in chaos in panic, you remember, I thought…”

Too weak. She was being too weak and she knew it and she knew he could see it. Ayame hardened her voice to make up for what was showing in her eyes.
“I didn’t go looking for you because I was afraid of what I would find. The answer that you were alive and didn’t want me anymore, or that you were dead. So…I sang hoping that maybe you’d hear me. Think of it what you will, call me weak, imbecilic. Tell me you don’t want me, do whatever you want Nakhti! Because…God! At least now I know you’re alive! I’ve been waiting for you for…what? Over a thousand years now! There is no other man or woman because the only one I ever wanted was you!” her voice was rising again but she couldn’t help it.
“ I couldn’t imagine being with someone else. You still think I’m disloyal? I thought you had betrayed me! What else could I think? I stayed in one spot for as long as I could before it was starting to get dangerous. You didn’t know what to do and neither did I.”

Ayame was quiet again not sure what else to say. She wasn’t sure if there was anything else to say. He said he didn’t want her then there wasn’t anything she could do to change his mind. She was far too proud to even try to change his mind. Fuck him. She had gotten through a thousand years without him she could do a thousand more. Though now that she knew he was alive…it was a completely different animal.
“ I don’t...damn it! I don’t know what you want me to say Nakhti! I don’t have any answers either! I’m here and I’m not what you want anymore so as far as I’m concerned this is over. Right? I don’t want you either, not if you belong to another woman. I was never good at sharing you and I’m still not. So to hell with this I know you’re alive and you know I’m alive, what more could you possibly need? You don’t want me? So leave. Go back to your whores.”

She turned away from him and started walking away. Part of her not wanting to see him again but now that she knew he was alive and well…she didn’t know how she was going to stop herself from looking for him just to catch a glimpse.



--



Nakhti

The sound of her voice alone had all the conclusions Nakhti had come to reeling. Her pained words, her pained voice had him wanting to take her up in his arms and tell her it was alright—but he didn’t. Instead he nervously clenched and unclenched one fist.

So she had thought he was dead… and now it was all beginning to make sense. “Think of it what you will, call me weak, imbecilic. Tell me you don’t want me, do whatever you want Nakhti!” Guilt struck his heart and immediately Nakhti wanted to take back all he’d said. He had lost his temper and ended up saying things he didn’t mean. Not wanting Ayame? In what reality? Of course he wanted her. More than anything. ANYTHING. “You don’t want me? So leave. Go back to your whores.”

And with that she started to leave and as soon as she took that first step Nakhti felt something inside him begin to tear, like something was being ripped from his body physically. He barely believed that this was reality, that this was really real, really happening. He found Ayame after all these years and he now had told her to go fuck herself—more precisely—he’d told her that he didn’t want her. How stupid could he be?

And what was worse? If he didn’t stop her now—right now—he’d lose her forever all over again. Without even giving his body the command, his arm flew out and caught Ayame’s hand as she past him. If Nakhti’s heart was beating it would have fluttered and then stopped, frozen with fear. Fear of rejection, of pain, of eternal loneliness all over again. And Nakhti couldn’t handle that, “You may be able to go on just knowing I’m alive, but that makes my existence a thousand times harder.” His hand held her’s in a tight, secure embrace and it sent hot chills though him. When was the last time he had done this? Better yet what would her reaction be to it?

Nakhti only turned to her, his eyes only making contact with hers now. He felt like the young, selfish boy who had once fallen in love with her so deeply that he had had to make certain that she would be his forever. His countenance bore an expression that portrayed his loneliness, his pain and his exhaustion and Nakhti no longer cared to keep them secret. He turned his whole body to her and drew in her hand to his chest. His fingers curled around it there and when he spoke, her spoke to her hand. “I shouldn’t have said that… I didn’t want you.” The words felt like swallowing a steak knife. “I shouldn’t have said it not only because it’s not nice but also because it’s not true.” He sighed, he hated apologizing even if it was to Ayame. “I do love you. And I do want you.” The steak knife lodged itself in his heart. His eyes looking into hers, strong but vulnerable. She knew he hated apologies. “Please stay with me.” His eyes searched hers. “I promise to behave.” He said on a slightly cheerful note with his lips curling into half a smile.

There was more he needed to apologize for… and he knew it. Sighing again—but keeping her hand—he sat on the ground. Then with telling eyes he tugged gently at her hand, gesturing her to him and when she was within range he took her by the hips and guided her into his lap. His one hand tangled with hers while the other wrapped around her waist. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I should never have done that.” His right hand untangled itself from her fingers and curled under her chin. It brought her face closer to his to look him in the face. He brushed her cheekbone with his mouth purposefully. “I’m sorry for being physical with you—in a non-sexual way.” He felt the need to add the last part as some type of clarification; Nakhti never felt the need to apologize for any type of sexual act and in knowing this his eyes twinkled slightly. He brought her face toward him again and he kissed just under her jaw. “I’m sorry for sleeping with other women.” He squeezed his eyes shut expecting to be slapped for that one. But nevertheless he moved her face closer and kissed just below her eye. “I’m sorry I called you disloyal.” He planted a very light kiss between her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear your songs.” He kissed her nose, his voice sounding strained. If anything he would have loved to hear her songs. He paused, and then turned his eyes upward, “Mmm… I’m running out of things to be sorry for.” He turned his eyes to Ayame, they looked as if a weight had been lifted that once resided there but was not fully gone. “Can I be forgiven?” His eyebrows lifted at the question. “Oh! I forgot one, the most important one.” His eyes gave off a little gleam. “I’m sorry I left you—and I’m sorry I didn’t find you.” His fingers stroked her jaw absentmindedly. “I guess that’s actually two for one.” His eyes were suddenly glued to her mouth as his curled into a tiny smile.

In the end Nakhti took what he wanted. His lips only brushed hers at first but with the full weight of them he pushed her mouth open. He moved gently against her lips at first—as if the apologizing was not yet over—but then the urgency kicked in and Nakhti kissed her with more insistence, more need. He was telling her something now that he wouldn’t have—maybe couldn’t have—with words: that he had missed her. And those words seemed so small in comparison to this kiss, to the actual emotion. His left arm was now encircling her and holding her body as close to him as possible; his hand bunched in the fabric of her shirt. His right hand that had been at her chin was now on her jaw, just under her ear, soft and delicate as a summer breeze—and yet completely opposed to his other hand. His held her mouth firmly in his enjoying the taste of her, something he hadn’t been able to sample for thousands of years and something greatly missed. He could have kissed her for a year—and then kissed her some more; he breathed in the scent of her, felt the texture of her smooth skin under his fingertips, heard her breath, and found for the first time ever, that he was satisfied.



--



Ayame

As she was walking past him his hand flew out and grabbed hers. Her head snapped towards him, eyes narrowed and on the defense expecting him to rage at her again. When she got a good look at him her breath caught, she couldn’t make heads or tails of his expression. It was neither angry nor happy but the way he was holding her hand…she looked down at the contact for a moment before her eyes went back to his unsure of how to react. His eyes finally turned and met hers and she could see such a deep loneliness in them that she felt a sharp tightening in her un-beating heart. He looked so tired and pained that it took all of her self control not to reach up with her free hand and caress his cheek. She wanted to tell him it would be alright but she didn’t know if it would be. How had this happened?

He pulled her hand to his chest and she only resisted a little, unsure of what he was doing or what he would do next. But he had always been unpredictable in some ways and from the fact that they were just screaming at each other moments ago, this new…gentler contact between them was strange. When he spoke…it was an apology and her eyes widened with surprise. She knew how much he hated apologizing so this was quite…quite something. Something that might even be considered a miracle. He said that he did love her and it felt like her heart was being squeezed tightly. His red eyes searched hers and she found herself taking a small step closer wanting to answer yes, always yes. There wasn’t anything more that she wanted than to be with him forever. Like they should have been.

Nakhti sat on the ground and she watched him carefully as he did so, wariness still slinking inside her. He tugged on her hand gently and she slowly took another step closer and then his hands were resting on her hips. Making the tight muscles in her legs quiver. She sank into his lap blindly but gladly going wherever he led her and it was as if they hadn’t been fighting a few minutes ago. It was as if they were back in Egypt, wrapped in each other’s love until the early morning rose about the horizon. One hand wrapped around her waist and she felt her breath catch slightly in her thought, warmth pooling deeper within her belly. As he began apologizing his hand released hers and curled under her chin and her eyes locked with his intently.

Her face was so much closer to his than he realized and she could smell his sweet breath, and feel it gently caressing her skin every time he exhaled. His lips pressed to her cheek and he apologized for being physical with her before than clarifying what he meant by that. A small smirk played on her lips; he had always been a very physical being. She could remember that there would be some mornings when she would awake after an evening with him with a soft dusting of bruises on her arms, up her spine and on her legs. The memory made her shiver slightly. His lips continued to gently press against her skin as he continued to apologize for things.
Ayame’s brow wrinkled when he asked if he could be forgiven. He then remembered one, a gleam in his eyes and apologized for leaving her. His fingers stroked her jaw line and she swallowed trying hard to keep herself collected and not melting into this affection.

Suddenly his lips brushed against hers so softly she wasn’t sure if she had just imagined it or not. But then they were pressing hers against hers with urgency and intensity that had to be real. Without thinking Ayame tangled her fingers in his hair and brought him closer to her, easily slipping back into the feeling of being with him. Too easily. His fingers brushed against her skin and her breath seized in her throat as their lips moved together.

Ayame didn’t know what it was, she didn’t know what triggered it but a thought snapped into her mind so abruptly that it almost felt physical.
Did he think apologizing was going to be enough?
It wasn’t.
Did he think that kissing her and pulling her into the sweet passion that she missed was going to be enough?
It wasn’t.
The second after those thoughts struck her she pulled her face away from his and pushed away from him. She rolled back to a crouch and looked at him, her breathing slightly ragged and her blonde curls falling in her face.
Her lips still tingled beautifully from his, her skin burned sweetly where his fingers had caressed it. But Ayame couldn’t let herself fall victim to that again.

“Did you think that apologizing was going to be enough?” She asked, her red eyes locked with his “Did you think that kissing me was going to make me forgive and forget?”
Ayame was disgusted and more pained than she was before. Because he felt her affection was that easy to win over, that her forgiveness was just easily achieved with a few pretty words.
“Words, words, words” her voice was tight, trying to keep what she was feeling from leaking through “How do I know I can trust you anymore? How do I know you’re not going to just use your gift on me?” the word was said with venom as she realized that their skin had been touching…she didn’t know if what she was feeling right now was real or a product of him. After all he had done it once he could very well do it again.

She stood up and looked at him feeling torn between what she wanted and her anger.
“I want to believe you…I want to trust you but it’s not that easy Nakhti. Not anymore.”
Her shaking fingers ran through her hair as she tried to think of how to voice what she was feeling.
“You can say you’re sorry and you can kiss me all you want …but that’s not going to magically make anything that happened ok.”
Ayame didn’t know how he could make it ok though. Time maybe? Time.
“Do you think I’m that easy? Do you have so little respect for me?” Anger and to her annoyance hurt filtered its way into her eyes.
“I can’t trust you right now.”



--



Nakhti

There had been bliss for several moments; bliss in which Nakhti suddenly felt very comfortable, suddenly things hadn’t changed since Egypt—and then as if a force of wind had come between them, Ayame was gone. No longer in the range of his embrace and though Nakhti didn’t get cold any more, he felt the lack of her body heat against him. His lips stung and were full of warmth at the same time. Ayame sat in a crouch not too far from him recovering from the side effects of the kiss as well.

Her red eyes burning she asked him if he thought he was forgiven. Nakhti habitually straightened his spine and raised his chin slightly. “Well yeah, for a moment there I did.” As she continued to fume, Nakhti felt his own rage growing. He had thought that they were past this—Jesus!—he wanted to be past this. But—remembering his recent promises he bit back on his temper, sat still and listened to what she had to say. She stood now and told him that she couldn’t trust him. Nakhti blinked in surprise.

“You can’t trust me?” He was having a hard time keeping the emotion out of his voice. “And I’m not trying to make anything that happened magically better. What happened happened.” Anticipating her rebuttal Nakhti added before she could speak, “I can’t change that. But I can make things right now. I’m not going to use my talent on you, I don’t feel any need or inclination to—despite how badly I want you. And if I have to wear a full-bodied rubber suit for the rest of my days to prove that to you—fuck!—I will but I’ll hate it. My ability doesn’t work very well on vampires anyway, you should know. And it seems if you know about what I can do you become even more immune.” He looked evenly at her. “I hope that gives you some peace of mind.” He rose gracefully to his feet now too. “But if you don’t trust me there’s nothing I can do about that. What do you want me to do? Because I don’t know any more, Ayame.” He shook his head. “I can’t make you trust me, and I don’t know what to do to show you that you can.” His hand reached up to ruffle his hair as if he were deep in thought, his eyes examined a tiny crack in the cement near his feet.

“What is enough for you?” His eyes bore into her. “Apparently ‘I love you’ isn’t. What do you want from me? I am only a man—yes, I am a vampire and that has its perks but I am not a god and I do make mistakes. But hell, does that make me unworthy of your trust? Of your love?” He took a step closer to her and kept his eye contact soft but firm like his voice—he wasn’t going to yell at her any more. “If you asked me, to go—right now—and pick up the most expensive ring there is in town for you, I’d do it. But, frankly, I know better than to offer because all that will come out of those fiery lips is how I’m a spoiled little brat who always got everything he wanted and if I think I can buy you I’m wrong.” His eyes traveled toward the sky line as he spoke about what she would have said—almost—like an eye roll.

“Ayame, I don’t want to buy you.” He almost groaned. “I just… want you. It’s simple but you want to over think it. You think you’re giving in too easily but, may I say baby, just let go. Nothing will EVER be easy with you one way or another and I’ve expected that—I know that and I still want you. And I need you in my life especially now that I’ve seen you after all this time.” He could help himself from reaching forward and cupping her cheek. “I’ll do whatever you ask in order to prove you to that I’m here for you and that you can trust me—but please, don’t tell me to go. Don’t ask me to leave.” Nakhti felt as if his heart was breaking all over again but he was determined not to let that show in his voice. His hand dropped from her face as he continued. “That is the one thing I can’t do—and what would that prove anyway? That I, in fact, can be away from you? Well I think it’s pretty obvious that I can and I have been. For four thousand years. Don’t you think enough time has gone by? And that maybe we should start creating what should have been, years ago, established? Don’t make me leave. We’ve had our time apart —much too much time. Come on, Ayame. Can’t we just try to work it out?”

His eyes pleaded with her and Nakhti didn’t even care about how vulnerable he was making himself. “We have plenty to catch up on I’m sure and I don’t want to spend any more time beating around the bush pretending not to care about you—which I realize I’ve fail pretty miserably at.” His arms were itching to place her within their hold. “Now would you please go out to dinner with me? I don’t think we’ve ever had an official date.” Nakhti let an easy grin take over his face and in the same instant, realized how much it would hurt if she said no.



--



Ayame

Ayame could see the anger growing in his eyes as she spoke and to her surprise, he kept it down. When he started speaking his voice was calm, she was impressed. He was keeping himself in check because he promised her and she realized that he was serious about this. That he really meant everything he said and they weren’t just pretty words. They were honest ones. She didn’t know why it shocked her so much, but as he continued speaking the surprises kept coming. Ayame knew he was right, there wasn’t anything he could do to change the past and she was harping on it. But that pain was all she’d felt for thousands of years, though she now realized she wasn’t the only one who had been hurting.

A small smirk tugged at her the corners of her mouth when he mentioned a full bodied rubber suit. She tried to picture it and nearly had to choke down an amused chuckle. Her face straightened when he told her the flaw in his ability and she thought he might be lying to her but she saw only honesty in his eyes. Very interesting and very good to know but she still didn’t trust him one hundred percent with that. He said it didn’t work well on vampires. Ayame knew she’d have to trust that he wouldn’t manipulate her that way, even the slightest but it was something that had changed her life so violently. She couldn’t just shake off her fears of it instantly because of a few reassuring words. No matter how truthful.
He ruffled his hair as he thought, she recognized the gesture. She had seen it so many times before and she fought the urge to smile softly at the memory, she wouldn’t be so easy to placate. And…she didn’t want to be. Ayame was a vain creature and it would make her feel stronger to hold her ground this way, but a voice in the back of her head kept correcting her. Stubborn.

He was enough for her and she knew it. It was only her vanity and pride that kept her from admitting it and it wasn’t going to allow that to happen anytime soon that night. His eyes bore into her as he took a step closer. She cocked an eyebrow and she wondered if she really did ask him, if he would go and buy a ring just as he promised. Ayame knew he would and she was half tempted to tell him to just to see but as she thought about it some anger rose through her. If he thought he could--
But he continued speak and it was if he read her mind. He didn’t want to buy her, and it only reminded her how well he really did know her.

Ayame couldn’t help her eyes widening slightly in surprise when he pricked upon her hidden feelings from earlier. Giving in too easily and his solution were to let it go and she knew that she could do it, very simply and slip back into life with him as if it had never stopped. His next words drove the bolt through her heart home and she dropped her eyes. Ayame knew she couldn’t ask him to leave anymore than she could walk away from him. She never truly planned to, sure she thought about it but she was only fooling herself.
Her toes wiggled in her shoes, itching to close the space between them and hug him to her. Feel his arms around her again, his fingers in her hair.

He pleaded with her and her eyes met his again, and she wanted to work it out. And as if of its own accord her head gave one slight nod in agreement. She looked at him slightly confused wondering if she had heard him right. Go out to dinner? Ayame didn’t hunt. Ever. She would not go chasing after a lowly human. Why would she when she can have her food brought to her? All she had to do was sing and the ideal meal came walking to her without a struggle. This idea amused her however and a smile came to her lips. What was he planning on doing? Hunting down two humans, one for her and one for him?

She remembered what was supposed to be her dinner and her eyes flashed to it. The girl’s blood had soaked into the ground but it was too cold now for her liking. She liked her food hot and fresh, this human would no longer do. A flash of annoyance flew through her, he had left no grounds for her to argue against. There wasn’t any reason for her not to go out to dinner with him that wouldn’t make her just end up looking like the stubborn fool. It wasn’t really the fact that she had no excuse to argue back because to be honest, she didn’t want to anymore. It was the fact that he so easily painted her into a corner so smoothly. He’d always been good with words though.

“Alright fine” she decided looking back over to him “Give me a moment to get rid of the human.”
She went over to the girl and made quick work of it, making it look like an attack from a cougar. There were plenty in the area and she didn’t want to get herself dirty by digging. She flipped her golden hair over her shoulder as she finished up. There was a pond nearby; she washed her hands off there before straightening out her rumpled shirt. She turned back to him and studied him for a moment, trying to shove the warmth the pooled inside her as far away as possible.
“So, where are we going?” She asked crossing her arms and moving to stand just a few feet in front of him.




--

Nakhti

Warm, watchful eyes followed Ayame as she dealt with the human. Personally, Nakhti would have just left it there untouched but then, he was all too eager to take off on his date with Ayame. His hands stuck into his pockets as he watched her go to a pond and cleanse her hands of blood. He moved his palms against and away his thighs as he waited, if he had had change it would have jangled. Finally she moved toward him again and his impatience was cured.

“So where are we going?”

“Come on,” Nakhti gestured with his head toward the entrance of the park. “You’ll see.” Though Nakhti didn’t think Ayame would appreciate surprises—especially with her current lack of trust for him—he himself loved them dearly. He turned his body toward the exit and extended a hand toward her—but then thought better of it and retracted—they weren’t that good yet. As he led the way he continued speaking, “I’m parked over here, not too far.”

And there was his Ferrari waiting patiently just outside the park. Its red chrome paint glittering in welcome. Nakhti leaned over the passenger side door and scooped up his jacket. He then opened the door to Ayame and stood graciously behind it. He waited for her to get in and when she did he gave her a broad, excited—slightly mischievous—smile, and then closed the door behind her. He opened the trunk on his way around to the driver’s side and he tossed his jacket gingerly into it. Sliding into the seat, he gave her only a glance before keying up the engine—just to make sure she was real. Nakhti adjusted the rear view mirror; without looking at her he said with a grin in his voice, “I hope you’re hungry.” And then they took off like a rocket. Nakhti knew exactly where he was going—he’d planned it all while Ayame had ‘taken care’ of the human.

Nakhti parked parallel and killed the engine. He didn’t bother hiding his speed as in the next instant her door was open and he was behind it again, grinning. He offered her his arm to take, or not. They approached a large restaurant building with a front wall made entirely of glass. There was an ornate champagne colored crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the main dining area that could be seen from the front window-wall; there were several circular tables that seemed to drip red velvet—but perhaps it was some sort of silk blend. The floors gleamed a white marble that’s veining brought out the mahogany color of table legs which poked out from under their skirts.

The couple walked under a red scalloped awning on the left side of the front wall. The carpet under their feet and along the concrete sidewalk was a darker red than the awning and reminded Nakhti of a trail of blood, which he chuckled softly at. Up far above them bolted to the glass was crimson script that read: BUONANOTTE.

Through a rounded double doorway a host stood before a wooden desk. The man was tall with hair dark as pitch and tanned skin. “Hello and good evening, welcome to Buonanotte. Just the two of you?”
“Yes.” Nakhti answered immediately with a smile. He was in a rare but impeccably good mood.
“Right this way.” The man directed as he scooped up two menus from a pocket on the side of his desk. He had a slight Italian accent that also explained his looks. “How’s this for you?”
Nakhti took in a smallish round table close to the middle of the dining area; his eyes immediately shot to the walls surrounding it. The waiter caught his glance. “Is something wrong?”
No cameras. Red eyes trailed to the human with a cool grin, “Not a thing.” He watched the slick haired individual hold back a shutter with a feeling of satisfaction.
“I’ll leave you to it the—“
The menus had been placed on the table and Nakhti had read one top to bottom as the host spoke, “No need,” He interrupted with a wave of his hand but his eyes were still in the menu. “Due ravioli ai funghi piatti.” The host blinked for a moment at the perfect italian this stranger had uttered.
“Subito, Signore.”
And then the waiter was gone.

Selecting the chair to the right of the table, Nakhti pulled it away from the table with the same courtesy as before with the car. His eyes seemed warm only for Ayame as he looked at her expectantly. He helped her slide closer to the table and then sat himself. His eyes gleamed brighter than the chandeleir above them. He propped his elbows on the table. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you, but I didn’t think it’d matter too much being neither of us are really interested in the mushroom stuffed ravioli.” His grin shone brightly, satisfied with his dark humor. His arms folded on one another on top of the table as he leaned forward to speak. “Personally, I don’t think I liked that waiter’s attitude so I’m going to have to call dibs.” With eyes sparkling like a child’s on easter, Nakhti turned his gaze toward the Italian at the front of the restaurant as he organized the menus and suddenly dropped them, his fingers shaking. He turned back to Ayame, “See anything you like?” His grin widened. “Besides me.”

“Ready?” He waited for her to say ‘set’ or give some kind of indication. “Go.” He almost whispered the last word which made a shiver of excitement run his spine. He turned around off his chair moving so quickly that survivors—if there were any—would say that he’d back flipped from the chair; his feet barely touching the ground. The yellow-blonde woman behind him was the first to go. His teeth tore her neck open as he grabbed her far shoulder and yanked it toward him. Snapping her neck before she could scream. However that didn’t mean the man she was dining with couldn’t. He let out a volital yell out of terror—and suddenly the restaurant was in chaos. Nakhti finished with the woman quickly and pinned down the host before he could escape with the fleeing clientellel. Nakhti growled inches from his face, “I wanted a table facing the window!” And then the Italian man was screaming too, clawing against the wall he was pinned to and against Nakhti—all to no avail.

Without looking, behind him Nakhti pucked a thin, shrieking woman out of the crowd. “Quiet.” He demanded. She let out a broken scream as he brought her down on his knee cracking her spine but not killing her. He fed on the blood at her collarbone.
“Hey! Leave her alone!”
Nakhti’s eyes slowly turned upward, his mouth dripped crimson. A shaking man held a steak knife in a shaking left hand. Nakhti noted the gold gleam of a ring on his finger. “Oh, I’m sorry does this belong to you?” His index finger and thumb pinched and held up the broken person who hung limply by the neck in his grasp.
“Ye-yes—no! She’s my wife!”
“I think,” Nakhti began placing the woman down gingerly like a toy rag doll. “that you mean was.” He began to walk forward slowly until the blade rested against his chest. He looked into the man’s eyes for several moments as he shook violently and soiled himself. Before he could have blinked Nakhti was licking the steak knife clean of blood and the man’s severed head lay on its side on top of one of the potted plants.

“Poor bastard.” Nakhti regarded the head without looking at it; instead he looked at the now spotless knife but it was a fleeting glance, Nakhti tossed it over his shoulder. “Hey babe?” Nakhti picked blood out of his fingernails and somehow made it look elegant. “I’m about done here, but how about you?” His eyes looked up to her. The malice of the killer who had started this riot could only be seen in the blood stains on his white shirt, on the corners of his mouth and chin—but not in those eyes, despite their color.

After the fun was had and they had made a mess of the perfectly smooth—once white—marble, Nakhti had grabbed Ayame’s hand and they were traveling down the street at a vampire’s pace toward his car. Once the door was shut behind Ayame, Nakhti swung himself over her head using the windowshield and the top of her headrest and landed gracefully in the driver’s seat—hey, he’d practiced. They flew out of the parking space and into the street. Using the back of his sleeve with his other hand on the wheel, Nakhti wiped most of the blood from his face. Soon the sounds of the sirens and the screams and the crying all died into the peaceful sounds of traffic and engine noise. His eyes shifted from the rear view mirror back onto the road, his grin was written on his face with Sharpie. He couldn’t help an excited hollar.

It didn’t take five minutes to reach the apartment complex. The exterior was a muted, but pleasing, green with large square cut windows speckling the building in sets of twos. There was a wide, off-white awning at the face of the edifice but Nakhti drove by it. Around to the right side of the complex was a tunnel that lead to underground parking. Nakhti had fun screeching around the corners at top speed—he knew his car. When he reached the lowest level of parking—which was completely barren—Nakhti hit the brakes and sent the car sailing sideways taking up three parking spots and coming to a complete halt just before hitting the wall. He laughed out of the giddy of it all and then got out of the car. He closed the door and reached his arms out for Ayame without even thinking. He held her firmly by the waist and lifted her out of the car still smiling ear-to-ear. He placed her on the ground with care and the realized she had no idea where they were. “I figured we’d better get cleaned up.” He reasoned casually. If possible, his grin widened and his eyes got a certain look in them. In a blink, he was at a door labeled: STAIRWELL. And then gone. He wondered how fast she had gotten. Nakhti called to her, “Can you keep the pace, baby?” He excellerated to the top staircase and opened the door to the top floor wide.

It occured to him when he reached his door and wasn’t out of breath: he had brought Ayame home with him. He stood in the narrow corridor beside a door with two silver numbers on it: a two and a nine. Floor twenty nine. His door was the only one on the floor—it was the penthouse. The corridor was painted a warm buttermilk with molding wrapping around the top, bottom and about three-fourths of the way down the wall. Below the off-white molding, the wall was papered with a swirling pattern of white, orange, buttermilk and red. Slightly resembling fire.

His hand rested on the silver of the doorknob, “Oh and by the way, this is where I live.” He knocked the door open wide for her and ushered her in. The walls here were painted white changing half way down the wall to plated chrome siding that had a print of raised fleur-de-lis separated from the rest of the white wall by a strip of white molding. All of the furniture in this room was either white or dark brown or both. There were windows lining the outer walls that didn’t give way to any actual wall—floor to ceiling glass. This room was the living room. There was light brown hardwood flooring that was uninterrupted by rugs; the wall to the left held two mahogany colored doors spaced far apart.

“If you’d like some dessert, I have some bottled in the cooler on the lower three shelves. They’re marked according to the date they were bottled and blood type. That’s—” Nakhti stopped, blinked and then started for the kitchen—it was the first time he’d stopped smiling to take a more thoughtful expression. “I’ll just grab you a glass.” He opened the door and came out before Ayame had a moment to concider herself alone. He handed her a wine glass filled half way with compassionate eyes. “It’s AB+ and the freshest I’ve got.” He gave her a smile and released his hold on the glass. “Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to a white couch with mahogany legs. Next to which was a short book shelf that Nakhti doubled as a side table. “I’m going to take a shower,” Nakhti explained backing toward the far door. “You are most welcome to join me.” He gave her a full-bodied mischievious smile before reaching the door and disappearing entirely.

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PostSubject: Re: 1love : Vancouver ((Ayame and Nakhti only please))   Thu Aug 02, 2012 8:36 pm


Ayame took her glass of AB+ and sipped at it slowly as she heard the shower go on. She wandered his pent house apartment, appreciatively. One thing they had in common now a days, they both seemed to prefer the best of everything. His apartment impressed her but; naturally, she thought her own was far better. Her favorite part by far was the floor to ceiling windows. Ayame stood before it looking down over the city of Vancouver feeling like she owned the whole world. One day she would. What a view.

After a moment or more in front of the windows she moved away, exploring the rest of his flat. She opened the door to her right that led into the dining room which held a giant mahogany table that gleamed in the light from the floor to ceiling windows. She discovered the kitchen, a bathroom and a library which she lingered in running her free hand over the thick volumes. Ayame stepped back out into the hallway to the far door across from her and entered his study. Another bookcase lined the wall to her right while a desk sat to the left with a computer quietly humming on top. Paintings dressed the walls and by the looks of it, some were authentic. Ayame turned to leave when she spotted a rather large length of canvas dominating the wall behind his desk portraying a curvy, naked goddess with blood red silk slipping over her voluptuous hips as she lounged on her settee.
“Of course” she murmured to herself, an elegant eye brow rising unimpressed.

When she was back in the living room she started on the door to her left. A smile took over her lips as she found herself in the master bedroom. A king sized bed took over the wall right across from her, jutting into the center of the room. Midnight blue curtains hung across that entire wall as well as the wall to her right. Ayame knew if she opened them it would reveal walls made entirely of glass and she started to feel like she was in a giant fish bowl. The walls behind her and to her left, however, were solid and decorated with white wall papering with a blue diamond pattern. There were two doors on the left wall and by the sound of the one closest to her, it was the bathroom. Ayame had to admit she was half tempted to take him up on his offer but that would be giving in too easy. Where would the fun in that be? Instead she opened the second door revealing a walk in closet and she was struck with an idea.

Moving across to the bed she set her glass down on the bedside table before slipping out of her shoes, her pants and her shirt. Ayame padded back to the closet and selected a dark red button up, last she knew that was his favorite color. She buttoned it up mostly but left the top open to let the half moon curves of her breasts show. She ran her fingers through her golden hair and then artfully laid herself across the bed letting her curves speak for themselves.

Never in a hundred years did she think she would be here in his bedroom. Life was certainly full of surprises. When she saw Nakhti in the park she didn’t think the evening would take such a pleasant turn of events.


Nakhti led her out of the park without so much of a hint as to where they were going. Ayame hated surprises. She was however unsurprised when he led her over to a bright red ostentatious Ferrari and she had to fight the smirk that was threatening to shape on her lips. He opened the door for her and she gracefully slipped into the car not bothering with the seat belt.
He said with a grin in his voice, “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Well considering you spoiled my last meal” she said coolly her eyes on the road ahead of them.

He parked smoothly outside of an Italian restaurant called Buonanotte. The front wall was made entirely of glass and she could spy a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Was this some sort of joke? If it was, she wasn’t amused. Nakhti opened her door and offered her his arm and without thinking it, she took it. They walked under the scalloped awning where a waiter escorted them to a table at the center of the room. Nakhti ordered for them and waited for the server to walk away before he turned his bright, gleaming eyes on her. Ayame hated to admit it but it made her remember what it was like to have her heart race.

As he spoke to her she caught on to his plan and she couldn’t help but smile. This was a surprise indeed but one she didn’t mind at all.
”See anything you like? Besides me.” he asked her with a grin and she rolled her eyes and took to looking around the restaurant for a prime meal.
Across the room was a round woman with blood that smelled of spiced wine, she nearly licked her lips.
“I think so” she replied looking back to him, excitement was evident in her voice.

On his signal they made their move. Nakhti went for the waiter while Ayame gracefully sped towards her target across the woman. The woman looked up started, as if unsure of what she was seeing, wine trickled down her soft chin.
“Y-yes?” she stammered, her piggy eyes rounding even more in confusion.
Ayame didn’t answer she only plucked the woman from her seat as easy as bird from its nest causing her companion to gasp and look on in panic.

The woman had tasted as good as she smelled, her companion however was a bit of a disappointment. She finished off two more victims before Nakhti spoke to her. He called her babe and she would never admit that she liked it. At least not yet. She grabbed a napkin off a table and dabbed some blood off her lips gingerly before tossing it behind her.
“I’m all set” she smiled and looking at him, his eyes bright with the fresh blood and a smile on his face, she never wanted to kiss him so badly.
Ayame pushed down the urge as she followed him back into the car where the sped off.

He led her to an apartment complex and she assumed this must be where he lived. They drove into the underground parking on the ground level and she was about to step out of the car when her door was opened and his arms were around her. Instinctively her arms wound around his neck and she was almost sorry when he let her go until she remembered herself and that she was angry with him…well supposed to be anyway.

He disappeared up the door labeled “Stairwell” and he called down to her. Ayame put on a burst of speed and by miracle ended up at the top floor right before he got there.
“You’ve gotten slower in your old age” she teased before allowing him to lead the rest of the way.


And here she was. Lying on his bed, in his shirt, drinking blood from a wine glass and waiting for him to get out of his shower. Her eyes took in his room before she reached to place her empty glass on the table. Something gleamed by a book resting there and caught her eye. Ayame lifted the object curiously with one delicate finger. It was a gold chain being used as a book mark with a very familiar ring on the end of it. It had a gold band with a turquoise stone at the top pounded with a scarab symbol.

Flashback

His cool fingers ran through her hair but something tugged on it.
“Ouch” she murmured pulling away slightly.
Nakhti removed his fingers and Ayame saw a few golden strands wrapped around a ring on his right hand. Gold band, turquoise stone with a symbol of a scarab pounded into it.
“Sorry” he murmured with a gentle smile freeing the strands and kissing the side of her head.
Ayame smiled up at him and he moved away from her for a minute, putting his back to her as he busied himself with something. When he turned back around she saw that he had looped the ring onto a long gold chain.

He placed it around her neck and dropped the ring down the front of her dress where it would stay hidden.
“A way to remind you…that you’ll always be mine.”

Present

Ayame thought she had lost it the day she had thrown herself into the river. Was this that same ring or just a replica? Carefully she pulled it free from the book and looped it around her neck letting it lay in plain sight, shining against the rich fabric of his shirt she was wearing.
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PostSubject: Re: 1love : Vancouver ((Ayame and Nakhti only please))   Sun Apr 07, 2013 7:07 pm

As much as he wished it he knew there was no way Ayame’s pride was going to allow her to step foot inside the shower with him. Nakhti allowed himself a small sigh; his face dropped slightly, why couldn’t she just be easy? How difficult is it to take a shower? How difficult would it have been for her to just allow him to make furious love to her? Ra! Women. He threw his clothing onto the floor wherever he saw fit. Nakhti liked neatness however he did not enjoy being neat. That is what his maids were for. Nowadays all his maids were older and/or unattractive, else he’d end up sleeping with them. Currently his number one lady was Emilia: a Spanish 40-something with three kids at home—all boys. She was a heavy set lady with a low drone of a voice. But she always got the job done and Nakhti loved—not that she was early but—that he could always count on her at the exact same time every day. And so because of his fondness for her he would still pay her for days he asked her not to come in. Nakhti enjoyed money but even more than that he enjoyed spending it; however, despite Nakhti’s generosity, Emilia had never seemed grateful for this charitable act. It was very unlike Nakhti not to care but he didn’t. It might have had something to do with the fact that her boring, cattle-like personality kept her, also, from becoming curious and something Nakhti hated even more than thanklessness was intrusiveness.

Now was not a good time for Nakhti to be thinking about his maid. The showerhead poured steam into the bathroom and hot water onto Nakhti’s skin. Nakhti figured he’d make his shower quick—but then, why not make her wait? She had made him wait before, why couldn’t she wait awhile for him? After all, if she had only waited on the other side of the Nile—
Nakhti broke off his thoughts purposefully before his mood began to darken. He distracted himself by masturbating in the shower.

After he was through, he toweled off and then—after a long contemplative struggle—decided to return to his bedroom with the towel on. While coming through the threshold into his bedroom he was distracted by pushing his hair out of his eyes—his hair was getting long and it was dripping water into his eyes and down his chest—else he would have seen Ayame and froze. Her back was to him but he could see that she had changed into his favorite shirt. And no pants. Nakhti took several moments to admire the way her thighs looked underneath that shirt and his eyes began to work their way up wondering how the rest of her looked. It’d been a long time and he’d barely gotten any time with her with her new vampiric body. Nakhti’s lower lip curled in slightly as his tongue caressed it, a gesture that indicated that he was turned on. Another body part responded too but the towel did well to mask that. Nakhti took a sliver of a moment to regain his composure and then closed the door audibly behind him as if he’d just returned. He could only hope Ayame was not wise to his gawking.
“I like the dress, is it new?” He gave a little smirk with knowing eyes. His countenance turned curious as he realized she was holding something. Nakhti crossed to her side around the bed to see it was “Napoleon and Josephine” she was holding: a classic novel about the love affair between Napoleon Bonaparte and Josephine de Beauharnais, his wife and mistress. Nakhti had picked this book especially to be at his bedside. Partially because he loved history and historical books were the only one’s he’d read despite his magnanimous collection, but also because of the correlation the book had to his life with Ayame. No matter how far apart there were or whom they were sleeping with, they would always love one another. Perhaps the book was his saving grace, his marriage vow, his love.

Veering from the cheesiness of the thought, Nakhti realized there was supposed to be something very special kept within that book—and it wasn’t there presently. Jarred, he glanced down at the floor and back to the book. Only then did he recognize it dangling from her neck. He took in a quiet, sharp inhale too when his eyes futilely followed her bare skin downward to the curvature of her breasts. He cursed mentally knowing she must have heard his gasp and his eyes lingering on her breasts didn’t help at the moment. Pulling his gaze away he turned toward the door. He was hiding his feelings from her and tension mounted at his lips which tightened at the corners. He ordered himself to relax but only half did so.
“I want to show you something.” Nakhti moved for the door. He was determined not to break before she did. He was always the one breaking and he wasn’t about to allow her to act on his weaknesses.

He guided her into his study and stood behind the desk. The first drawer was yanked open and the contents jumped in surprise. Nakhti’s fingers furiously pushed papers forward until he came across an average sided notebook. The cover was black leather held shut by a brown strip of leather tied in a bow. Nakhti’s first finger pulled gently but quickly at the tie and it loosed for him. “You may or may not remember my affinity for art but I love paintings. I’m especially fond of oils. I was in a bazaar somewhere in southern France when I saw this portrait of a girl who looked strikingly similarly to you. Though, on closer inspection I realized it was clearly not meant to be you.” Nakhti closed the drawer and slid the journal in front of him to the middle of the desk. He left one hand protectively on it. “After that incident I got to thinking that I should just ask someone to create a portrait of you. And so I did, however the problem was there were no photographs to be had of you and so I could offer no references.” Nakhti pulled out the chair and sat in it. His fingers fiddled with the drawer handle. “So finally I met with an artist known for fantasy work drawn from his head and told him what I wanted. But he too told me he needed a reference. I understand that necessity and I suppose it was just my impatience at the time, but I ripped a page from his easel—luckily a blank one—and furiously made a sketch of your face. We were both surprised that it was pretty good and I told him to take it, expand on it, and paint it and I left. When I came back,” Nakhti opened the middle drawer directly in front of him and unearthed a cardboard folder of about two feet by one and a half, “this is what he had for me.” Nakhti placed the folder over the journal and opened it. The painting inside was colorful and was clearly Ayame but something was a little off. “I like the painting and paid the artist handsomely but something bothered me about it.” Nakhti tenderly brushed his fingers along the side of the picture as if to remove dust. He then folded the cardboard covering back over the painting and stuck it back in its drawer.

“This plagued me for some time. So, I picked up a book and began to sketch.” He fingers traced the leather cover on the desk. “It was frustrating and certainly not a hobby. It was more like… if I didn't do it I would vomit up my intestines or… I can’t explain it; it was just a very human feeling. If I fought it I would find myself later in the bathroom of a restaurant with a little boy’s fire engine red crayon in my hand sketching furiously on a urinal.” Nakhti exhaled and raked his fingers back through his half-dry hair; he was feeling stressed just thinking about his time in France—it had been the last time he’d been and that’d still been a little more than a century ago. “So I drew, which I really didn’t have the patience for—as you can imagine.” As if curious himself, Nakhti opened the journal and found immediately a sketch in fountain pen of Ayame. The ink made a smear and blots on the page. It wasn't terrific but Nakhti made no comment, only flipped page after page after page. He was silent now and the book was filled with only Ayame. Some better than others; different mediums but never in color. Some pages held several depictions of her, some smaller, some larger. The emotion was clear in Nakhti’s work: there were a lot of scribblings for shadow or heavy, dark lines no matter what he used to draw with—some even bled to the next page in which case he didn’t use that page. There were images of Ayame smiling upward, Ayame bent as if looking at something, Ayame asleep, Ayame off-in-though, Ayame worriedly looking down, Ayame brushing her hair, Ayame angry, Ayame naked, Ayame singing, Ayame scowling, Ayame blushing, Ayame, Ayame, Ayame.

After several moments of silence, “I didn’t think of you, huh?” He came up from the chair and reached for Ayame. He slid his finger into his ring around her neck. “Surprised you went and put this on, maybe you’re more sentimental than you let on.” He looked up at her to wink and then removed his hand.

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