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James Dylor

"I am a servant. It's what I do."

0 · 166 views · located in USA

a character in “Paranormal Dilemmas”, originally authored by pieluver, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Personal Servant of the Lykae King
Image
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[color=#551033][size=400][font=Courier New]James Dylor[/font][/size][/color]




Name
James Dylor

Nickname
He’ll answer to nearabout anything, so long as he knows it’s directed towards him. He doesn’t have specific nicknames though, he doesn’t have enough friends to have a nickname. Though his Mum used to call him Jamsie. He wasn’t too fond of that, admittedly.

Age
19-20 (146)

Gender
Male

Appearance
James is little. He looks like a kid because he only stands at five foot three. Thank his mother for that. He has dark brown hair that verges on black in the back and eyes bluer than even seems possible. He looks a bit of a mess, with his ruffled hair, but he holds himself like a servant, and it shows. Though one probably wouldn’t guess of the bat that he’s a lykae. Well, half a lykae. His mother was a human, his father a rash young lykae with a taste for small women. James takes heavily after his hother; he looks only slightly stronger than a rag doll, his body more built to run that it is to fight. He’s very tan from working and a healthy enjoyment of the sun. Though he looks more breakable than a twig because of his small frame, he’s actually well built, by human standards. His muscle is more discrete than is fit for a Lykae though. He has an expressive face, open as a book, and elusive but nice smile. His hands are covered in calluses from all his hard work, he could hold them over a flame and not feel the burn for a matter of seconds, the layer of dead skin is so thick from his hard work.

Occupation
Personal Servant to the King of the Lykaes. Which means he does whatever the hell his King wants him to do.

Skills/Equipment
James has never had a reason to wield a weapon, so he has no training in any art, apart from the art of fleeing.

Personality
James is a hard working lad. He does his best, and he always strives to make his best better. He is rather quiet, even when he was in the human world he didn’t have many friends because he’s always been just a little different, not to mention a little shy. He isn’t an angry person though, he’s tried to overcome that emotion, because he doesn’t like feeling lost in anger. He is very free with his emotions, despite being shy. His face is an open book, and his emotions scroll across it lazily. He’s also extremely loyal to those he’s in a relationship with, friends, his mother; he even loves his father, though the man refuses to have anything to do with him.

James is also a bit awkward around people in general; he’s not always entirely sure how to act, so he often falls into his dutiful servant mode, quiet and attentive. He’s also honest, but he usually keeps his mouth shut unless spoken to directly. He’s not one to share his opinion without causation. Though he isn’t much of a conversationalist, he likes being around others, it makes him feel more….real. Like he has meaning. He’s always had problems with self validation, part of the reason he works so hard. That and because he likes feeling productive. He’s a hard worker by nature. He doesn’t like accepting help, because he doesn’t feel that its right, but he would jump to help another. He often puts aside his own needs for those of others, even those who he doesn’t know very well.

When he works, James puts himself fully into what he’s doing. One might say that though he was a will to live he’s willing to give up living to merely keep existing. His life has fallen into a mindless tedium over the last years as the King’s servant. But he is a devoted servant all the same. Not exactly to the Lykae king, but to being a servant itself, because it is all he has to live for. What he lacks in strength he makes up in endurance, and what he lacks in power he makes up in determination, and what he lacks in muscle he makes up in sacrifice. He is selfless because it is his duty.


History
James was born to a single human mother, a woman names Marissa, who, at age eighteen, was not ready to have a child. Her parents were understanding, however, and babysat the child while Marissa tried to make it through college. She loved her baby, as did her parents, but she was thankful the kid looked more like her than her boyfriend, who’d disappeared a little under six months before the child was born. He’d been an elusive man, tall and dark, but he’d loved her. She couldn’t understand why he would just vanish like that, not a trace left but the child, whom she named James.

James grew up like any normal kid, though his growth appeared rather stunted, since Lykaes don’t age the same way humans do, and James was half Lykae. Eventually Marissa realized that her child was not completely normal. She didn’t tell James until he was eight years old, however. That was when they started moving around, so Marissa could hide her ‘mutant’ son from curious neighbors. She couldn’t believe that something so strange could even happen. It was like they were out of some stupid teen novel or something. But she still loved James and still took care of the boy, because he was her child and it was all she could do.

As James grew older, he acted like a normal human, and learned to control his temper after the councilor at his school prescribed anger management classes for the boy, who was sporadically aggressive, as if he had no control over the mood swings. He was a mild tempered child, but competitive. He competed in sports, and though he was small he was stronger than one might think.

he grew up further, and left the school setting after about twenty five years of pretending to be of that age, and spent the next fifteen years helping his mother, who was aging so quickly, more quickly than James could stand, scratch out a living. He was a hard worker, and he made sure his mother was always well taken care of, even when her lungs began to fill up with fluids and she eventually died at the age of sixty as her lungs failed. James was heart-broken. His father, however, who was on Earth at the time, had been trying to find Marissa, and found him instead. Confused and slightly disgusted by the small human who claimed to be his son, the Lykae took the boy in. He couldn’t stand it though. The child was too much of a human, a disgrace.

James’s father, a man of high standing, sent James away to the King’s court in the hopes that it would either make him a better Lykae or kill him. No such luck. The scrawny boy, through hard work, successfully climbed all the way up to being the personal servant to the king. Perhaps not a very great success, but it was something.


Other
James, while very stoic and quiet, can crack. Do not insult his mother, or all his pent up aggression is most likely to explode. Along with his cranium, most likely.

Also, James doesn't know how to read. he did, once upon a time, but his skill fell into disrepair over the ages.


Post
James wasn’t one for fretting. Well, unless he had cause to, and he certainly did tonight. But there were positives and negatives to his Majesty’s absence; he often took the time to do a more thorough cleaning of the King’s quarters while the lykae was gone. It didn’t exactly worry James that he was gone, what got to him was wondering what would happen when his Majesty came back. The King had taken to disappearing into the human world at odd hours, and it seemed his only goal was to create a bit of chaos before returning home and making another mess for James to clean up. Which was very tiresome. James hadn’t thought of the dull repetition his life had become in a long time, however, it was easier not to think about it.

It was debatable whether James managed more sleep when the king was home or when he wasn’t. When his Majesty was around, James was on edge just in case the lykae needed something. When he wasn’t, James was on edge for the moment he’d return. Dreading it, in a sense. Because it seemed that his Majesty’s favorite pastime was causing his servant grief. And James knew he had to take it, because what else was there for him to do? The lad tugged a hand through his hair as he examined the king’s quarters, making sure everything was straight.

Deeming his work satisfactory, he trod carefully back to his own quarters. He didn’t think anyone would be awake at this time of night, but he didn’t want to chance being caught. He didn’t want to have to tell anyone that he’d been cleaning up the King’s quarters, because then he’d have to tell that the King was currently out. Though his Majesty had never said anything specific, James had decided it was in his best interest to keep his nighttime wanders to himself. If his Majesty desired to tell anyone, surely he’d do it himself. And the boy had a strange feeling that his Majesty wouldn’t be pleased if he told anyone anyway. It was always a good idea to circumvent any unnecessary punishment, as much as he could. Even if his Majesty’s reasons were the most inane, James tried his best to follow all the rules, spoken and unspoken, his Majesty laid down.

Once he made it to his solitary quarters, he was apart from the other servants partially because if he was required for some inane reason in the middle of the night—when his Majesty was actually home—it wouldn’t do to wake the others. Not to mention that when he’d been lower in the system the others had thrown him about quite a bit because he could not do anything in retaliation because he was too small. A runt, if you will. But he was mostly left alone now; nobody would dare touch his Majesty’s servant. Of course, they weren’t jealous of him, everyone knew that serving the king was not a desirable task. Why James had ever fathomed that pulling himself up to being the personal servant was a good idea he couldn’t figure out. Maybe it was just because he couldn’t help himself. If there was work to be done he had to do it. It was a compulsion.

James stripped and changed into a cleaner outfit before sitting down on his bed and staring at his hands for a moment. They were worn; they spoke of someone who worked through pain until the pain could not be felt anymore. The only problem was that the pain seemed to get worse as time went on. Not the physical pain, but the feeling that something was missing. He missed being a human. Doing the things the human way. He tried not to think about it though, because those thoughts were bad thoughts. Treasonous, for one thing, and they only made him even unhappier. Sometimes it was better just not to think at all.

After a moment James produced a piece of paper from where he’d hidden it and held it taut between his hands. He stared at the marks on it, trying to decipher them, a daily task for him. It was a letter from his father, the first one he’d ever received, and it had been nearly a month since he’d gotten it. And he couldn’t read it. He could see the letters, and he knew what the letters where, but he couldn’t remember how they went together. He’d found his name among the lines, more than once, and he could pick out a few words, but none of it meant anything to him and it hurt. He’d only talked to his father a grand total of two times before he found himself a servant to the king, and he did want to know the man. He didn’t want to be such a disappointment. But obviously it wasn’t to be.

Oh well.

So begins...

James Dylor's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Sapphire Parker Character Portrait: Simone Parker Character Portrait: Sydney Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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Sabine Marx

Sabine had dawdled on his course to his destination, as he was prone to do, he paused every so often in a pool of sunlight to examine something or another. The thin man couldn’t say why, but he was actually experiencing some reservations about his plan, now that it was so close to fruition. Well, the plan would be ripe just as soon as he found the impertinent little female. He didn’t know what the ends to the means were, but here he was. It was rather tiresome, dwelling on the thoughts, but his brain seemed hell bent on torturing him. These roads were all familiar; barely anything had changed significantly in the last two years to his eyes. The humans were all the same, the roads were all the same; even the air around every place was so very similar. He lingered at the park among the dappled warmth, folding his hands behind his back and letting the spotty warmth kiss his face.

Was this a good idea? He felt a twinge in his being and paused briefly. Of course. All his ideas were brilliant. Emboldened, he continued on his path, following the familiar footsteps of thousands of wanderings through the city. He held no love for the human hive, but he was rather partial to the way the air and sun felt on a warm day in this place. The weather in Dothri Regum was very temperamental, sometimes the weather was fair, but it could go to hovering darkness in a few moments. Which is why the sun was a precious creature to his kind.

As late afternoon began to bloom, bleeding across the sky, he finally traced the roads he’d been thinking of for the last two years. He passed the alleyway first, casting it a glance and pausing for a moment. People hurrying past surged around him, splitting for the regal figure like waters parting for a stone. The faint marks of a smile creased his eyes. That had been an invigorating fight. He’d never managed to get the blood off the toe of his shoe though, what a shame. He’d never really liked those boots anyway. His handkerchief and jacket, however, he’d been rather partial to.

Sabine continued on, his hands still folded stiffly behind him. He continued on to the café. He didn’t expect to find her though. Why would he? It was foolish to think….His eyes found the blonde as he passed; she was speaking to two other women who looked similar to her. Perhaps relations. From across the street his eyes flicked across her profile, sliding off the other two females, one of which he could see fully, a dark haired creature, and the other who he could see a profile of, a redhead. He stared at her as he passed, willing her to look up. She did not. No big surprise. If the last conversation they’d had before he’d returned to his people was anything to go by, she was too stubborn to respond to even the most piercing of silent commands. He’d have to be patient. Euch. He continued walking, turning the corner, casting a glance over his shoulder. His eyes caught hers for a moment, but the human didn’t notice him at all, her eyes seemed to pass right over him. He frowned slightly. Perhaps she had not recognized him?

Around the block the daemon went but this time he stopped at the corner, green eyes narrowed slightly, urging the blonde to look. Other people on the opposite street glanced at him, unsettled, but he did not care what humans thought of him. He’d returned the human world for this and he wasn’t going to give up. He wanted his handkerchief back. After all, he’d promised her he’d return for it, and Sabine was not a man to break a promise. And no one would be able to put a price on her expression when she finally did notice him. Internally, the male grinned, though his face was still set and serious. And then the most perfect thing happened. The dark haired human looked at him. He could see the creature stiffen, as he he’d frightened her, and then she quickly leaned over to the blonde. Yes, perfect. He hadn’t had to catch Miss Parker’s attention specifically; one of her companions did that. Almost as if it had been planned. He lifted a hand, anticipating the blonde looking over.

This would be perfect. No worries plagued his mind; he was completely sure of his plan now.




James Dylor

There was a woman in the bed. There was a naked woman in the bed. There was a naked, sleeping woman in the bed. And she was not supposed to be there. Or at least, James did not want her to be there while he was trying to clean, but he didn’t know how to wake her up without getting near her. So for the moment his face was a vivid shade of scarlet and he was on the other side of the room, making sure everything was orderly and clean. Not an easy task, especially since it was apparent that his Majesty had enjoyed quite a romp the night before, if the woman in his bed spoke any volume about the circumstances. No wonder the Lykae king had worn such a look on his face, James realized. He’d done this on purpose! The boy frowned. Well, he had to get rid of her somehow, but how?

“Boy.” The woman had a very light voice, though she was ordering him around it was still softer than a butterfly’s whisper. Or maybe that was just because she’d lost her voice.

“My Lady?” James jumped up from where he was trying to fish a mystery article from under a set of shelving, bowing and trying not to look at the woman.

“Where is your Master?” She asked as James tried to look in her direction without actually looking at her, though she was holding the coverlet to her chest.

“He’s out. He didn’t want to wake you,” James said, his face still violently red.

“Oh.” The woman said. From the sound of her voice, she was extremely disappointed by that. “Well, where is my clothing?”

After more returning words back and forth, James growing more and more uncomfortable by the moment, he managed to convince her to go back to wherever it was the leisure section of the King’s court lived, providing for her an unused bed sheet to wrap around herself, because for all his searching, James had not been able to find more than her brassiere, which had been the mysterious article of clothing under the shelves, much to his embarrassment. The woman didn’t look too pleased as she stalked off, but he hadn’t known what else to do. He knew how to deal with His Majesty, but not his consorts. It seemed to amuse his King to no end to place his servant in such situations though, it seemed to James.

He wasn’t too pleased with that, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He merely spent the rest of the morning and afternoon obsessively cleaning the King’s quarters and anything else that looked like it needed to be cleaned. It helped him take his mind off the most unpleasant ordeal of that morning. He still flushed whenever he thought of that situation. Having to move near enough to the woman to hand the lacy article of…clothing to her. That had been so very terrible. Even though she had paid virtually no attention to him, she was more interesting in trying to stand stiffly, and wrapping the sheet around herself in what she deemed an appropriate manner. She’d tried to order him to help her, but he refused. He didn’t care if she whined to his Majesty and he fell into trouble, he was not getting nearer to the woman. Not bloody likely.

Cleaning was always a good way to take his mind off of everything though. He could put himself completely into any task and ignore even his physical self; pain was lost on him, even as he built the calluses on his hands and made them even rougher. Labor always made him feel cleansed, somehow, even if he was exhausted every night (and sometimes in the morning, especially when his Majesty decided to sneak off in the middle of the night). Plain working wasn’t as tiresome as dealing with his Majesty’s tricks. His pranks, as James had come to think of them. He didn’t find them as funny as his Majesty seemed to, however, and they usually left him emotionally drained, which was much more difficult to deal with than just feeling a bit tired. He had to deal with it though, His Majesty was the law and he himself was merely a servant. It was the way things worked; he’d just have to accept it for what it was. What could he do about it anyway? Ask his Majesty to stop? Ha, that would be a very bad idea, to say the least. It was easier just to cope. And pretend like certain things had never happened.

Perhaps that was the reason he often fell for the same tricks more than once.

The setting changes from San Diego, California to USA

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Sapphire Parker Character Portrait: Daniel Bowman Character Portrait: A Princess, a Noblewoman, and a Captain Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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James Dylor

The front hall was looking a bit scuffed. James lingered for about thirty minutes, waiting to see if anyone else planned to clean it, as it was not part of his job description and he really shouldn't do things like that, especially when he still had to find the rest of the woman's clothes and return them to her. She'd left him with the ultimatum that he was not getting the sheet back until she had her full ensemble back in her closet. James could understand that, but he couldn't fathom where her clothes had gone. She'd claimed that she'd left them where they fell int he King's quarters, but they hadn't been there. At all. Except for the single garment. As if they'd up and disappeared. A rather frustrating notion. Which was why James was so ardent to clean now. As if that would make up for the failure elsewhere, when in fact it would just make someone else's job a bit easier, and his hands a bit rougher for the wear.

After he'd deemed that no one else planned to clean the floor, the boy ran off to collect a bucket and all the other supplies he'd require, then pulled his sleeves up to his elbows, dropped to his knees, and got to work scrubbing the life out of the poor floor. As he worked he noticed that the floor was extremely dirty, past the state he usually allowed the floors he was required to clean in all Garreth's places of residence. Perhaps no one had bothered with it when they'd arrived, or maybe some other Lykae had gotten away with a half-assed job. That didn't bother James much though, but it did worry him that the floors in other part of the manor might be similarly dirtied. He'd have to go check at some point. But for now, this floor was top priority.

Perhaps the reason for his working fervor were not merely because of the embarrassment earlier in the day, though. Perhaps he'd found himself fed up with trying to decipher the letter. It was nearly frustrating to the point of tears. Having the letter in his hands but not able to read it, knowing that his father had spoken to him but not able to understand it. it was embarrassing as well, because he knew at one point he'd been able to read, at one point he'd been a fair reader, but now, now it was all gone. gone when he really needed it. Wonderful. Such a line of reason would have made sense, considering the intensity with which the halfling boy attacked the floors, pulling dirt out that was nearly in the core of the flooring until his hands were mucked by it. He was not very strong, not by any definition of the word, but when he focused on a task, he could make the floors shine. Part of the reason he was the current personal servant to the King. And also partly because the king found him amusing, or so James assumed, judging by the number of tricks His Majesty had pulled on him. The countless tricks. And it seemed they were always getting worse. Just when James was confident that he could handle things, His Majesty had to go and switch everything around or put a new stipulation, or run off and leave a mess nearly too big for him to handle on his own.

That wasn't to say the James didn't love his king. He served The Lykae king with as much loyalty as he could muster. But he didn't always like his sometimes-antagonist. Well, his most-of-the-time-antagonist. Sometimes His Majesty made it very difficult for James to like him, but James was uncomplaining. he was a competitive spirit, and in a sense he was a prideful one. He would not ask for help. He could not. It simply was not the way James worked. It had never even crossed his mind that he could make things even a little bit different with a little bit of asking, the silly boy.

He was mostly done with the floor of the front hall when the door opened. James sprung to his feet, dropping everything. It could be any number of people, but most of those people were more important than him and deserved his deference, which meant that he had to pay attention to them. He watched for a moment, then saw it was Lord Rhaun. He bowed deeply to the Lykae adviser. James respected him, he was a man of presence and wisdom, and one of composure. One could almost say that he looked up to the Lykae, but one would not know such things, because James did so very shyly.




Sabine Marx

Ah, he'd struck another nerve, quick quickly in fact. It was a new record. She issued what probably to her was an insult, but to him was a little more close to home than she might think. As the centuries passed he'd lost interest in indulging carnal knowlage. After the initial rush of lust in his youth, the desire to try everything, to know everything about the woman's body, it became boring. No woman could offer him anything he hadn't already experienced before, and they most likely couldn't do a better job than some other creature he'd already had years before. There was nothing more to it than that drive in the moment, and then it was gone. There were no long term rewards. It was pointless. Sure, if he wanted, he could try and bed as many woman as he could, just for the sake of it, but why? It was merely a game that he'd decided he'd won a long time ago.

"Give or take a few centuries," he said coolly with the faintest shrug of his shoulders. Most likely not the reaction she was expecting. Perhaps she would think it was a joke. Obviously someone couldn't live for a whole millennium, it was unheard of! Foolish humans never could seem to understand things that were beyond them anyway, he'd come to terms with that very early on in his dealings with the creatures. After all, he wouldn't be so affluent in this world if he hadn't done a bit of manipulating and twisted some arms.

The annoyance in her voice when she snapped at him was apparent. Was he treading a fine line, or was there still a bit of space before he made her explode? Most likely the latter. if he remembered, she'd been one to anger quickly. She had a look of disinterest on her face, but her words betrayed her. She did care, very much. Otherwise she'd just shut up and walk away. So long as she continued to be interesting, Sabine would stay, and he was quite sure she knew that. "What gave you that impression?" He retorted, but there was a faint lilt of something less than sarcastic in his tone. Perhaps an ounce of sincerity. Just perhaps. As if it was a ritual, he followed her as she turned and began walking away, anything less would be losing this battle. "What if I wanted to make sure you were alright? The last time I saw you you weren't exactly in top shape, liebchen, standing at your doorstep alone in the middle of the night, fumbling for your keys with my coat draped over you." He recalled that moment vividly, though technically he hadn't been a part of it. Then he realized he'd let something slip that would only do to inflame the little blonde further, if she caught it. He'd told her that she could make her own way home, after a short argument in which he'd insisted that he escort her, but he eventually 'gave up' and followed her home on his own, just to make sure she was okay. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe she wouldn't notice. Although, if she did, would it really hurt him that much? What could she do, slap him again?

He then contemplated the last part of her snappish counter. He could leave her alone now. It was so lovely to have her permission to do something. Oh, now he'd be just so inclined to do so! Except for one thing. He couldn't. Sabine couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he didn't want to go. He felt that if he did he'd lose something, something more than just his handkerchief and jacket. Perhaps because he didn't like exiting on such a poor note, or perhaps for the same reason their last meeting had stuck so clearly in his mind. Whatever reason that was. He didn't want to leave. Maybe because that would be giving up. He'd gone all this way, all the way from his own world, for what? To walk away? That wasn't him, that had never been him. He would pursue this until he knew just what he wanted from this human girl. This Sapphire Parker, who'd stared back at him with cocky intensity, who had the guts to stand up against a king who had killed more people in his lifetime than she would ever know.

"If I can't have my handkerchief back I need something to show for the trip back here, at least." he said offhandedly, casting a green eyed glance at the fiery blonde. She was such a curiosity. It made him hate her but crave her for the same reasons, she was stubborn and sharp and rude and she was witty and biting and clever. Her word were dually irritatingly impertinent and interesting enough to warrant a response. And that passion. If she could manage it a bit better, make it a touch less headstrong, it would be beautiful. But perhaps her unrestrained emotion was what made her so appealing past her stunning blue eyes and her visually attractive form, which really weren't all that special in the long run of things. There were plenty of pretty people in all places. There were even pretty Lykaes, which showed just how unimportant such a quality was. But pretty person who had quality. That was something.

Even if that something was stubborn and had smacked him across the face not too long ago.




Daniel Bowman

He could feel the princess miss the kiss, he could still feel that tiny gasp that had crossed his skin when her lips parted, but she composed herself admirably. He could feel the tension between himself and her spark though, the delicious desire singing against the inside of his mouth. She purred at him teasingly, countering his refusal of her claim, and his eyelids hooded. Well, they'd see about that, wouldn't they? She would win, ultimately, or at least, she would think she'd won, but he'd not concede until he received what he wanted from her. Not jealous his ass, if she didn't want her attention she would have gotten up and left, her fingers wouldn't be tracing his abdomen, following the grooves of his muscles tauntingly. But it would be a mutual victory, perhaps. He'd gotten what he wanted, she'd worked for him a little bit, thinking that she was merely teasing him, and she'd get what she wanted. In his own opinion he knew her much better than she thought, how else could he keep her coming back for more when she shuffled through men just as fast as he wooed women?

His mind caught a hitch, went blank for a single second as she shifted her hip against him, a movement that he hadn't expected. He blinked slowly as his desire insisted that he do something, his lips parting slightly. She rested back against him, and her eyes found his, which were half closed. He seemingly re-awoke, a smile flitting across his features for a half a second. Yes, she'd have no trouble getting what she wanted now. She smirked at him, and he returned it, sliding his hands from her thighs to her waist, his bottom teeth pressing against the uppers for a moment. A reminder to pace himself. This was still a dangerous game, but for different reasons now. Always for different reasons, it seemed. "I was always a sucker for pretty girls, I suppose." He said, a touch of teasing resting on top of the roguish purr of his voice.

His eyes flicked across her face, he was nearly holding his breath now, through the tension. But he still had a bit of play in him before he'd give up. He shifted ever so slightly so he could move closer to her, returning them to the nose to nose position of not a few moment ago. He blinked slowly again, contemplating her. He could feel his heart urging him onwards, or perhaps trying to push its way out of his chest and get on with the whole deal, since he seemed to be taking his sweet time. "Oh, but how ever will you forgive me, Princess? I've been simply terrible." He was slightly breathless, partly because of her proximity and partly because it cut some of the urgency trapped in his voice. His hands still rested on her waist as slowly tilted his head so his lips could brush hers. Then he pressed forward, all of a sudden, taking her mouth for a moment, almost painfully urgent in his movements, before he took control of himself again and lessened his claim over her mouth so she could reciprocate if she wished. She was the princess after all. And the sovereign queen over her mouth, God save anyone who tried to breach her territory.

Though she knew his body well enough, his physical limits, he wondered how well she could guess his mind. She had her own secrets, he tried not to make vocal assumptions about her, though he often tested her carefully with his little games, just to see what she would do. Like his mischevious little kiss to the corner of her mouth. Oh, she was jealous, not of Eve, but perhaps at the possibility that he wasn't even thinking of her at the moment? She wasn't the absolute priority in his life, just as he knew he wasn't hers, though it was the goal he made for any woman he pursued. Was that hers as well? Most likely, from what he knew of her and her actions. She was clever, mischevious, and that mysterious glint in her eye always spoke of something just beyond the surface, something that he wasn't allowed to know. But did he want to know? It depended on when one asked him. Right now he really didn't care what she was planning, he was too busy with his own plans, but in the quiet moments, sometimes he contemplated that sparkle in her deep eyes. And wondered just what that bode for him.

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Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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Rhaun Dreamspeaker

The front hall welcomed Rhaun with the gleam of clean floors, the tradeoff being a faint chemical odor of the cleaning solution used. Were his senses the same as a human it would’ve been the average smell of a clean luxurious room. But to the Lykae it was an overlapping olfactory mixture of a trail of “artificial” substances and the familiar traces of his kindred wafting through the air. A strange combination that wouldn’t be felt in their home world, but here it has become commonplace. He stepped upon the carpet running across the middle of the room, having spent enough time here to no longer look around. One way or other, if anything was worth noticing here it was an individual who could provide Rhaun with the small token of interaction that he felt an inclination towards. And he was in plain sight, though somewhat startled by the Adviser’s arrival.

James was this boy’s name. A half-breed, like so many servants in the Lykae estates, albeit singled out by his station as personal servant to the Lykae King. Still, it was not likely to be a particularly glorified station. Rhaun approached, the young servant bowing to him deeply. As the old Lykae stepped forth he beckoned the young man to rise from the bow with a hand-motion that held both strength and grace. Man and beast were unified in him in any form and his aura retained a sort of animalistic charm that permeated most of his being. The exchange between them was for now wordless, yet already the animal-like senses of the Adviser gave him a few ideas of the state of the one in front of him. A lingering tension about his gesture and his glance, a hint in his scent speaking of a form of frustration – they were not entirely uncommon things about this particular young man.

Suffice to say, Rhaun made no intrusions upon the conduct between his King and the servants in his employ. Still nothing was there to limit his powers of observation whether fuelled by the supernatural features of his kind or not. And truly James’ life was, in a way, an ordeal. Yet the young man’s hardiness and devotion were something to admire. But to expect James to have no doubts in his heart and mind would be too much to ask of him for now. Even young full-blooded Lykae experienced such feelings. After giving James permission to stand in his presence, liberating him of the subservient posture with his gesture, the Lykae Adviser regarded him with a calm studious glance. Its duration was relatively short though it seemed to stretch to some significant length. To an extent it was to see the servant’s reaction, but it had to be said that, unlike Garreth’s constant trying of his servant’s nerves and patience, Rhaun’s was more a test of will conducted in the same dignified serenity as most of the old Lykae’s actions.

Still James clearly looked tired and tense. Rhaun didn’t maintain the fixation of his gaze on him for too long, his eyelids lowering over his eyes breaking the sort of non-verbal connection that was being formed. Still, perhaps when words were finally spoken it would be enough to make James exhibit some sort of physical reaction or be startled, despite the typically soft tone in which the Lykae uttered his words.

“Seeking refuge in labor…” Rhaun spoke with his eyes still closed, his words forming more of a thoughtful statement, rather than a question or an assumption that would have room for much doubt.

Once more the eyes opened, clearly directed at the young man before him. He examined the reaction, the posture, the way the sound of his breathing changed and the way his scent might have changed in response to his thoughtful words. It’s not that he expected his words to have any overwhelming sort of influence, but taking in the reactions of your partner in conversation in this way wasn’t something unusual for a Lykae. In part his statement was born from the previous things noted about James… And then, in part, it was the fact that it wasn’t even this servant’s job to be cleaning the hall he was on in the first place.

“Hm. I suppose it is not the worst option… Do you find this world…” - He began, but paused, soon choosing to narrow down the area in question - “… This place… Do you find this place comfortable?”

The question that was on Rhaun’s own mind found its way into the strange conversation that was beginning between the two of them. It was too early to judge the degree of success about their exchange, but what harm would there be in wishing to know the opinion of this boy? If one had yet to be formed, then perhaps it would spur the young one to ask himself this question. At times such a thing would guide one towards a path of discovering something important about their identity… Yes, perhaps self-discovery was indeed something many of their kind in the human world had to avoid disregarding. Young and old alike, but mostly those yet to truly get in touch with their dual nature and find the one in-between that would lead to harmony.

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Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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James Dylor

James rose at Lord Rhaun's beckon, standing straight and absolutely still. His knees complained for a brief moment, standing still after being down on the floor for so long was a bit of a task. He slowly lifted his head in the subsequent silence to look up at the much taller Lykae's face, three inches shy of a foot above him. He was accustomed to feeling diminutive, however, that did not bother him much. What was so terribly uncomfortable, however, was the way His Lordship was studying him. The soul piercing air under the calm gaze made his stomach jump. He kept himself under control though, or at least, he kept his legs from aiding him in flight. His expression was a lost cause. His face had always been an open book and there was nothing he could do about that. His electric blue eyes widened slightly and his mouth tightened, breath stalling his his chest until his Lordship broke the stare by closing his eyes. Released, James's head fell right back down so he could stare at the floor, the nervous expression not leaving his face.

Lord Rhaun was a deliberate man, which meant that this moment had some purpose, and generally people with purpose who paid attention to James did not have anything good in store for him. Especially with such a searching look. James was a singular creature. He was secretive. He kept to himself. And he didn't like others encroaching in the space between his ears. Even if they were trying to help. James didn't need help. He was fine. He was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong. Nothing at all. He could do this on his own. It was his job after all, wasn't it? Yeah, and he could do it.

A thoughtful statement from Lord Rhaun made James's throat bob with a discomforted swallow as he tensed further. Though it was nothing more than a remark it felt like an accusation. He wasn't doing anything wrong, was he? He was just doing his job. So what if he picked up some extra tasks, they needed to be done and he was there to do them. He wasn't doing anything wrong. Nothing.

The next question increased his discomfort. Now that was a touchy question. James swallowed again. A vague response should suffice. What was he supposed to say? What did His Lordship want him to say? "It is my home, Lord Rhaun." He said, his voice a little bit softer than he'd intended. He glanced up at Lord Rhaun again, falling into movement as he felt around with his foot for his bucket. His foot bumped against it, sloshing the water a bit, not enough to spill it but enough for it to stain the lip of the container with the dirty water. He bowed deeply again, the movement melting into his next, which was seizing up the bucket and clutching it to his chest as if it could act as a shield against His Lordship and his most uncomfortable questions.

"I must," He stumbled over his words as he tried to think of the proper way to excuse himself, his face flushing, "I-I apologize but, I, um," he paused for a moment to collect himself. "I must depart to prepare His Majesty's chambers for his return. I apologize, My Lord." He bowed again, only just saving the bucket clutched to his chest from spilling it's contents all over the mostly clean floor. He'd not been able to finish, but that was a task for a later time. Now he really, really just had to go. Quickly. He backpedaled, bowing again, and once he was a suitable distance away he turned tail and fled into a door further down the large hall to dump out the contents of the bucket. Once he was safely away, after dumping out the bucket, he paused, resting his callused palms on his knees, and just stood for a moment, face still flaming. What had Lord Rhaun wanted? because James most certainly didn't need anything, and he wasn't finding refuge through work. He was just doing it so it could get done! He was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong! Nothing at all. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

True to his hasty excuse to escape, James did make his way back up to His Majesty's quarters. He hadn't realized how late it had become, and His Majesty would be home any time, most likely at the most unexpected and inopportune time possible. As the boy went to tidy things up, though nothing had been moved from his earlier cleaning of the place, he paused for a moment to lean against the door, tilting his head up and letting out a loud sigh. When he opened his eyes he spotted something strange. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He had to be just a bit too tired, because there was a stocking hanging from the chandelier. He furrowed his brow and looked more closely at it, taking a step forward towards the center of the room. It was indeed real. How had it gotten up there? And more importantly, how was James going to rescue it from it's lofty perch before His Majesty got home? Or should he just pretend he hadn't noticed it and hope that His Majesty didn't see it. Unless, of course, His Majesty had put it up there. Realization dawned across James's face as he put together the unhappy woman from that morning and the brassiere under the shelves and the missing clothes. His Majesty must have hidden them, which was something he would most certainly do, just because he was himself.

Well, that was just so wonderful, wasn't it. Oh well. Looked like he'd have a stocking up there for a night before James could fetch a ladder and get it down and restart the hunt for the other lost articles of clothing. He'd replaced the sheets, including the one the woman had take with her, but he really did need it back to keep a full set.

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Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Sydney Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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#, as written by Igari


Garreth Vilhei Frost




He hadn't quite been able to get rid of the scent that still lingered around, wrinkling his nose at the strong scent of chemicals. It overpowered any other scent that possibly could've been traced and was wrecking havoc with his sense of smell. Garreth was more than eager to return home at this point, at least to be rid of this smell once and for all. He shifted only slightly, looking up as he heard approaching footsteps. His timing couldn't have been better, for it was only several or so minutes after he had begun waiting that Sydney came out of the club. She wore an interesting expression, but what drew his attentions the most was the delicate way in which she now spoke to him. It was obvious that she was a bit tired, more than likely worn out by the night's escapades. To be fair, Garreth wasn't the easiest man to converse with by any means, but he supposed that compounding this fact with her worry for her sister would be legitimate reason for her exhaustion.

She came to an abnormal halt in her sentence, Garreth raising an eyebrow as she abruptly stopped talking on an awkward note. There was a silence that passed between them for a few seconds or so before he lightly shrugged, taking out his keys to unlock the doors. "Blows over, hm?" He didn't bother to expand his question as he opened the door politely for her once more, waiting for her to get inside before he walked around to the other side. This trip to the club had bothered him slightly and he did not bother to say anything to feed his own amusement as he slid into the driver's seat. He started up the car and pulled out of his parking spot, not uttering a word. The silence of their drive was only pierced by directions from Sydney as she gave him directions to her home. The ride didn't seem overly long, maybe because he wasn't paying attention as closely as he would've?

He turned the car onto her block, bringing the vehicle to a halt. This silence between them felt almost unnatural. Normally, he would've pursued playful banter, a sarcastic statement or two, and left her on a frustrating note before she departed. But it seemed like neither was in the mood to pick up where they had left off in the library. Admittedly, there was a little too much on his mind to play the game as properly as he normally did. Well, that didn't mean he couldn't do a small gesture or two. He managed a grin as he looked over at her, choosing to break the silence by addressing something she had sad back at the club.

"You mentioned the need to make some calls, didn't you, Miss Parker?" The question was rhetorical, of course he didn't expect a response. "You can't do that without a phone, now can you?" He slid his hand into his pocket, retrieving the device and holding it out for her to take. It didn't take much perception to see that she was wary to accept the item, as it also didn't take long for one to figure out Garreth was a bit of a prankster. He didn't retract his offer, however, and after a few minutes, she did take the device--albeit with some hesitation. He reached out just an inch more, very slowly so that she would not start away from him as she was prone to do. His fingers brushed against her cheek carefully and for the briefest of moments, his smile turned just a tad warmer.

"I'm sure we'll be in touch," And with that statement, the moment was over and Garreth resumed his usual assumptive nature. His grin widened as he gestured to the door. "Try not to miss me too much, Sydney." He waited until she had gotten out of the car and he could see her approach her own door before starting up the car again and pulling away. Hm, that was odd. He hadn't realized it until she left but the scent of those parasites was gone. The only scent that lingered now was... hers. He didn't allow his mind to remain on the realization for overly long--he had other things to be preoccupied with. The human woman wasn't someone he needed to be pondering over. Something was evidently out of place. She had mentioned that she believed her sister to be at that very club, a place that just so happened to carry the scent of parasites? It didn't sit well with him at all and if they had been there, that also meant... He narrowed his eyes vaguely; he was going to get a headache at this rate.

Garreth was a bit lost in his thoughts as he, at last, arrived on more familiar turf. Instead of parking in the front, which would've been the polite thing to do, he decided to position his car in the most lazily, obnoxious place that would be a pain to re-park later. (That side of him really wasn't going away any time soon) Stepping out of the vehicle, he closed the door very quietly, not wanting to alert others to his presence. It was still quite late and he doubted that any of the staff knew he had snuck out. As usual. He partially wondered if all the articles of clothing he had hidden had been located yet. (He had put more effort into it this time) The prospect of seeing James' expression was always enough to push troubling thoughts to the back of his mind, if but for awhile. He debated walking in the front entrance, ah, that wouldn't be very smart, considering he was trying to remain under-the-radar about his escapades.

He decided to go in through the back entrance that led through the servants' quarters, knowing full well most would be asleep at this hour. There was nothing to prepare in the kitchens and most of the cleaning had already been completed. He quietly walked through the halls, sliding his hands into his pockets comfortably. As he approached his chambers, he noticed the door slightly ajar. That could only mean one very amusing thing. A smirk slid on to his face as he let himself into his private quarters, automatically spotting James trying to finish up last-minute cleaning, it seemed. Before the boy could step away from the bed, Garreth was already pulling at the corner of the sheets, undoing all the work that had been done just moments before.

"Well, this certainly isn't the set that I had here earlier this morning." He said before discarding the sheets on the ground. "So tell me, did you enjoy the treasure hunt?" He quipped. Yes, this would keep his mind off the issues at hand... for now.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Garreth Vilhei Frost Character Portrait: Sydney Parker Character Portrait: Rhaun Dreamspeaker Character Portrait: James Dylor
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#, as written by Igari


Garreth Vilhei Frost




Tonight was certainly a change of pace for the Lykae King, who, for the rare once in awhile, was actually not sneaking off the premises. It wasn't as if he wouldn't have preferred to--taking the absurdly (albeit hilarious) alternate route had always been in his mindset. However, after the tongue lashing he received from Rhaun regarding his behavior, he wasn't too quick to try anything overly out of bounds. He may not have had much respect for many others but even he had to concede when spoken to by that man. He sighed a little as he pinched his nose. He didn't like someone else knowing what exactly he would be doing to entertain himself but the matter couldn't be helped. This probably also meant sneaking in later wouldn't exactly be an option. Irksome.

In the end, he had decided to go to an art exhibit--opening nights were always the busiest and the display always helped him relax. Surprisingly. The rare few that knew him well enough probably wouldn't be taken aback by this but, even he would admit it, it was easy to write him off as a shallow individual. As he got out of his car, his mind skimmed over the past few weeks--as it had been prone to do as of late. He had not quite been able to shake off that scent or the implications that came with it. Of course, the reason came without saying--parasites were always bad news. And the more he thought of how suffocating that scent was, the more it had begun to bother him. It had been a bit too strong, laid on too thick--but he couldn't think of much of a reason as to why. There was the chance he was over-thinking it, he did have the tendency to sometimes look into things a bit too much. But if they were here, then there was also the chance the sun-lovers had followed. And if that was the case....

Ah, no. He had left to get his mind off of all that nonsense for the night, not dwell on it. This was supposed to be relaxation. Even he would consent--being a King could get a bit exhausting at times. Fortunately, he always knew how to keep himself entertained nicely. As he strode through the double doors, the calming sight of art greeted him. There was faint clatter from the far side of the large entrance hall, a few musicians seemed to be getting set up. Ah, he probably arrived a tad too/ early. He had just been so anxious to get some fresh air, done things more rushed than usual. He was a planner, but lately it seemed as if something was lacking. Pranking James wasn't bringing as much satisfaction as it had and he had been putting less effort into it as the days dragged on. The servant boy had certainly sensed something was wrong but as usual, had kept these matters to himself. It was well known that he did not like to be questioned and the last person that had, well, they wouldn't be talking any time soon. In fact, they wouldn't be talking at all in the foreseeable future.

His eyes only skated over the paintings, nothing was really grabbing his attention here. He would rather not think this was a waste of his time too but as far as he could tell, he was going to get bored pretty fast. No sooner had he thought this that something caught his eye--a flash of black satin. He slid his eyes over towards the motion, but it wasn't the dress that caught his attention. The disinterested thoughts that had filtered through his mind seemed to fade in the several seconds or so it took to process the woman at the far end of the room. Hm, so she was here, but what was she doing carrying a violin case? Unless...

A devious realization came to him and already, his lips were forming into a smirk. He watched her quietly, safely from a distance so that she would not be able to catch sight of him, at least not yet. He decided to turn his gaze partially towards one of the closest paintings, though he kept track of her out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps this night wasn't going to be so futile after all.