Dedicated Defiance

Azalea Harris || 21 Years Old || Unclaimed Asset ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "To die, to sleep--no more. And by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that the flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep--To sleep, perchance to dream. Aye, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause." ~Hamlet. Act 3, Scene 1 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Azalea Harris: Juilliard dance student, unwilling slave, and most likely the most cantankerous person you'll ever meet. Surely you've heard of my father, Stephen Harris? If not, do count yourself lucky; He's not a man I would wish upon anyone. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ((RP Blog for Whiterose Resorts RPG, and will only play with others from that group.))

[honeyedxlemons]

Pay attention to me.

[azalea-harris]

Poke me again...I fucking dare you. 

[azalea-harris]

I knew it...

[norah-hamilton]

"You as well? Nic left me again.." She spoke walking by the woman. "I am right there with you. But Ms. Parker doesn’t want us to.." She rolled her eyes at the thought.

[azalea-harris]

"Fuck what Ms. Parker thinks in that ever superior blonde head of hers," Az spat like a feral cat, cornered with claws at the ready. "In fact, fuck every single low life on this god forsaken island who thinks they can tell us what to do. I don't know about you..." Her gray eyes swept sideways to the other girl, a fractured conspiratorial smirk tilting her lips vaguely crazed-looking, "But i'm itching for a little trouble. What do you say we try for it? Give it a go and make old Sloaney piss herself in anger when she figures out we've broken her little rules, hm?"

"Or are you scared..."

[azalea-harris]

I knew it...

"I bloody knew it. Can't trust a person, particularly a bloke, as far as you can throw 'em. Christ on a bleeding cracker--" Azalea hissed, eyeing a liquor store across the street from where she'd perched like a woman starved. "What I wouldn't give to drink myself into oblivion right now."

[azalea-harris]

Okay, look, I know as well as anyone that this place is more than a little fucked up...

But dear random ass business man who decided to whisper to me that he thinks it’d be hot to cut up my pantyhose and eat them in stew…you are a whole new level of fuckery. Congratulations, prince of the psychopaths. 

[underworldmarcelo]

Sulking? Why are you sulking jolie fille?

[azalea-harris]

First and foremost, cut the flattery; It's not a winning tactic on the likes of me, mate. Second, you try getting yourself imprisoned upon a slave island against your will by none other than a relative of yours and tell me you wouldn't sulk too. 

[underworldmarcelo]

Being from France I think it’s my job to tell you to suck it up and accept that I’m here. At least I’m pretty sure that’s how it all went, it was a long time ago.

[azalea-harris]

Touche. Still, i'd prefer to sulk in private, if you don't mind, so sod off. The waves and I were having a staring match and I believe I just nearly bested them. 

[underworldmarcelo]

I’m thinking of just staying on the beach for the rest of my life…

[azalea-harris]

Move along, mate, this patch of sand is already claimed in the name of England...

[lorenzoxdelucareyes]

[Tristan can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips at her words.] You don’t know anything about me, don’t even assume that you do. Rich and privileged, yes, but other than that you are dead wrong. You act all clever and tough, but you should remember your place, Azalea. You’re here purely for the staff and client’s pleasure.

[azalea-harris]

"Mate, I don't need to act tough nor clever; Both are just ingrained in who I am. You, however, i'm confused by. I can't decide whether the pretentious ass hole routine is genuine, or if it's a cover to hide the fact that you're a weakling of a man and human being."

"My place? You mean subservient upon my knees just because someone wills it, because someone decides to pay for it?" She scoffed, a snort derisive bitter laughter issuing from her as she rolled her smoke-colored eyes at him wryly. "Utter bullshit. My place, as you put it, is to live upon my own terms, not relent to righteous hot-headed cretins who think a human life can bend to their will just because they have the ability to write a hefty check."

[azalea-harris]

"Penny for your thoughts?"

[je-suis-monsieur-noir]

"Tsk, tsk young lady. Every time you call me that expect a spankin’ and that arrangement will do jus’ fine methinks." As if to further emphasize his point he brought his hands together, rubbing them quickly warming them up. He rather liked spanking, and the idea of throwing Azalea over his knee was enough to make the Frenchman purr with want. This was how far they’d come, he’d scared the shit out of her only to reassure her everything would be just fine. The level of comfort between the two had blossomed into and understanding that would be envied. "Oh really? Personally I am more of a ‘doer’ verses jus’ tellin’ you but I will humor you." He cleared his throat while the Frenchman’s mind drifted back to their closet tryst and what had transpired between them in private. "You have tasted me upon your lips but I ‘ave yet to taste you.  I would rather like to bury my face between your thighs and lap at you clit until you scream my name. But thats just before I bury my cock inside your pussy, and anal hook ‘n your arse while you suck on my finger. I like this method, I will be the only thing on your mind~"

"I make googly eyes, and vice versa. My lust is insatiable you should be aware of this by now Azalea." Marrok leaned back in his chair, lightly crossing his arms across his chest as he regarded the brunette in a moment of silence. "Oui -Yes you. Read it and weep tiny dancer." He blurted the words out point blank, expecting some tiny form of gratitude and getting nothing but typical sass. "Actually Azalea, its a lot like thaaat. Would you rather I pass and someone else swoops ‘n on you?" He was being truthful and somewhat snarky with her and he realized it. "Look. I am looking for something and I do believe you ‘ave potential buried deep within your chilly facade so I suggest you -Let It Go-"

[azalea-harris]

“Because a spanking is really a threat. Right-o, Monsieur Fluffy, consider me shaking in my boots.” Azalea’s smoke-colored eyes followed the motion of his hands and, despite herself, she couldn’t help the little kittenish smirk that flicked up the corners of her lips. Corporal punishment was, surprisingly, amongst the list of things she’d consider relatively pleasurable…something about the unrelenting repetition, the sting that seemed to linger on the surface of the skin even after all was said and down…there was just something about it. That wasn’t the shocking part; The part that made that smirk quirk oddly ever so slightly was the realization that she not only wanted it, but wanted it from those very hands that rubbed warmth betwixt them, threatening delicious stinging fire upon the skin. Of course she kept her thoughts on the matter to herself, but let that smirk grow a fraction as her gaze finally came to meet his once more, “You’ve done quite a bit of ‘doing’ as of late, don’t you think? A tease of the mind can often be far more effective in getting my goat than actions. I’ve learned to block myself well to actions.” But she’d not yet mastered blocking someone who could get into her head, and that much was obvious as, though she tried to sit statue still, she began to squirm along with his words, the image blatant and vivid in her mind’s eye. Surrounded by Marrok, drugged on Noir…it didn’t sound entirely disagreeable, which, in the book of Azalea Harris, was seriously saying something. “Consuming the senses, then…you like to overwhelm your lovers then, I take it? Perhaps…well—“ Admission was difficult, something she had never fared well with, but in this moment she wanted to see how he’d react to a tidbit of honest; to see if he’d take the cocky road or if he’d realize just how meaningful the little slip was: “…Perhaps I’d be curious to see just what being overwhelmed was like.” And she left it at that. 

It wasn’t disdain or disgust that laced her tone, but rather completely bared raw shock, and a touch of genuine confusion as she studied him for the longest moment. Part of her mind busied itself with the contemplation of whether he was truly mad, the other part seemed pointed on that fact that, of all the Assets on the god forsaken island, of all the Assets who were far more agreeable and even-tempered…he wanted her. And she couldn’t decide whether it was genuine want because of the person he might of caught glimpses of beneath her stony façade, or if he had another angle. Trust was not something the embraced, but part of her…a tiny blinking part, but a part nonetheless…wanted to trust him. “Sorry. You can’t blame me for being taken aback, though, can you? With all of the offerings on Whiterose, why on earth would you choose to claim a pain in the arse like me? I’m not easily submissive to people like you, and I’m sure by now you know that. So why?” Azalea’s voice was even, controlled for once and simply curious as she continued to watch him carefully, consideration knitting her brows as she leaned a little closer. “So…what would this mean exactly? You claiming me, that is; What's the catch?"

[azalea-harris]

"Penny for your thoughts?"

[je-suis-monsieur-noir]

"Please -Monsieur Noir. After all we are not yet on such casual terms." It was a small reprimand, a reminder that such signs of affection should only be used in appropriate situations. "My mind is keen on relinquishing blushes from you Az." His words were painted with teasing however there was an unmistakable tilt of seriousness.

The sassy eyebrow even when she acquiesced to his desire earned a soft smile from the Frenchman as he raised his hand to a folder that had been sitting on the table. “I am always up to no good. But as o’ late I ‘ave been contemplatin’ a claim.” Marrok slid the small file closer to the dame perched so gracefully before him deliberately letting her discover it was her own name written on the tab. “I ‘ave been studyin’ up a bit…on you.”

[azalea-harris]

"Tsk, tsk..." She chided with that Cheshire Cat smirk with the trademark sass that Azalea wore like a badge of honor, "Wouldn't want you thinking I actually respected you, now would we? Monsieur Fluffy will do just fine, I think, and i'll not hear otherwise." Teasing and jest...for some reason the layers of her personality, the fun layers she normally tried to keep at bay hidden beneath layers of cold armor, came out of its own accord around this fluffy giant with the personality of a wolf in gentleman's clothing, and it unnerved her to no end. But at times it felt good, the ability to let loose of her inhibitions for a moment and let the sassy fun side slip through the cracks. If only for a moment here and there. A glimpse. Only a glimpse. "I dare you, then...try to make me blush. I doubt you'll be successful, but it'd be entertaining to see you try."

Remaining laughter dangled precariously upon her lips, but fell uneasily into the air as he continued and the conversation took a far more serious spin. Delicate fingers plucked up the folder as she spoke, carrying on with disapproval seeping heavily into her tone, "A claim, hm? Marrok Noir, Mr. I'm-Going-To-Make-Googly-Eyes-At-Every-Pretty-Asset, actually laying claim to someone? Shocking...and who's the poor creature you've--Oh," Her ramble fell short as grey-blue eyes caught the name upon the file and a wary narrow-slitted gaze lifted in confusion to the man before her, peering over the file folder at him as if lobsters had sprouted from his ears. "Me? You can't be serious..." Either he had a death wish or he was seriously barking mad to think she'd consent to such an arrangement. Or perhaps, just maybe, he saw beneath her exterior,...and liked what he saw behind the barbs, saw more than just her body and the service she could give him---no. No, she couldn't let herself believe that kind of lie to herself. "Monsieur Noir, I am not a plaything, and certainly not an item that can just be bought."

[azalea-harris]

[azalea-harris]

[azalea-harris]

[azalea-harris]

[azalea-harris]

Christ on a bloody cracker,

[cfprinces]

"But here you aren’t just property, you’re someone’s deepest desire. Someone is going to select you out of the lot. Doesn’t seem like such a tragedy to me. To have someone put all their bets on you, want you, hell— maybe even need you. Not every person here wants to cause the assets pain. Maybe you’ll be paired with one of those people."

His eyes floated toward the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair to think. “Let’s see, I was born to a man who called himself the profit in a religious cult. I woke up everyday doing chores and ended my day with chores. I had five mothers, two were only thirteen years old—Six mothers if you count the love of my life who my father just had to take for his own. Long story short, I was shunned.” Chastin’s lips upturned to a slight smile as he looked back at her, “It could have been worse. Things could always be worse.”

[azalea-harris]

"You're mistaken, mate. Here, i'm not more cherished and desired than one desires a lamp or rather lovely cup of tea; usable for the time being, but easily disposable once i've served my purpose." She shook her head and ran a frustrated hand into her brunette locks to fist at her scalp, "Every single person here wants to hurt us, don't be so daft...Even if they don't physically harm us they're still hurting us indirectly by facilitating those who keep us here, trapped, taken away from our lives for no other reason than to feed the greed of the likes of you. No one takes into account what we were making of our lives before we were brought here, what dreams were snatched away just to make us playthings to the rich and bored."

A crack had started to inch into her tone, and Azalea caught it with a twinge of disgust: Weakness, a nasty trait that seemed to want to show itself in this moment along with the conviction she put into her words. That simply wouldn't do. Quickly, she latched on to the new topic at hand and, much to her surprise, she found herself vaguely surprised at his words. A single brown arched up curiously and she brought herself up to perch on a side wall to regard him with mild interest. "A weird religious shut-in, then? Huh, doesn't change the fact that you still have no right to take part in what happens here, but still--that had to be a nasty way of growing up. So, your father was a polygamous blowhard with a god complex? Wicked bad luck, mate. I'd say he and my father might have got along, but no...the probably would have vied for the position of leader, and my father drives a hard battle for the top."

[lorenzoxdelucareyes]

Obviously.

That’s exactly what you’ll be once I’ve worn you out. I do love a challenge, Azalea. I’d love to see just how wild you are.

[azalea-harris]

I highly doubt that somehow. I know your type, mate: Rich, privileged, but lacking any sort of true integrity and ability to carry through. I'd have absolutely no trouble besting you. However, I'd not suggest testing that theory. 

[azalea-harris]

"Penny for your thoughts?"

[je-suis-monsieur-noir]

A light chuckle erupted from the handsome Frenchman, “My thoughts are completely sinful, enough t’ make any maiden blush, squirm ‘nd possibly get damp. Therefore they are … p r i c e l e s s.” Mossy tinted eyes flickered up to the brunette that had captured his attention on more then one level. Marrok regarded her in silence for a long moment before an amused smile made an appearance. “Come ‘ere…”

[azalea-harris]

"Your thoughts surely aren't enough to make a jaded thing like me blush. Got to get creative if you want that outcome, Monsieur Fluffy." The British bird returned with sardonic tilt claiming her smirk. "Which i'm certain you're more than capable of if you put your mind to it." Of that she had no doubt, but she could still give him a hard time, couldn't she? His beckoning drew an arched-brow look of consideration from the dancer before she conceded and moved closer, perching on the edge of the table he sat at and using the bit of chair peeking between his legs as a footstool for her bare feet. "So fess up, Fluff...what's got you looking as if you're up to no good?"