private rp sideblog

this is an exclusive rp blog where I only interact with a select few. So if you follow me, just know that I wont interact with you unless i know you. It's nothing against you, it's just because this is a private blog.

[amesbrisees]

            Exposure to ill thoughts frequently cloaked him in doubt, and the sheen of brightened sadness only summertime could truly inherit. The season slowly commencing the final run to face its inevitable ending. Leaves would fall and float weightlessly in the balmy breeze, dance and twirl until coming to rest on a gravelly pathway amid a park’s dulled green. A play of colors, bleak in the view from a cloudy afternoon atop a building on a roof, where he’s closer to the firmament, tinged in the distinct complexion of resolute dreariness. A fine nuance less and it could be mistaken for an old movie’s imagery, uncaring of an average viewer’s sentiment as it keeps flickering ahead with its grainy quality, on a black and white television screen. Exposure to ill thoughts have never done him any good, so why should it be different, so suddenly? “I need some portraits for next week’s class. If you’re not comfortable with that I won’t take pictures of you…” The sentence leaves off, unfinished and it shows in the way his hoarse voice trails off. I wouldn’t mind your company, either way. He bites his lip, as though he demands his mouth to hold still and not flinch in the temptation of another word’s utterance. It tastes like common decency, yet stings like embarrassment. And he nods, because it’s the first thing he can think of, before another vague curvature crooks his smile, nothing but the tiniest nuance of a faint expression. “On the radio they said it’d be a clear night, so I thought–” An idle shrug misses its purpose by a few inches only, lopsided enough to give off a partially half-assed impression, though his soft smile begs to contradict. He looks down at her slender hands, nimble digits fumbling with her phone and the reminder of a necessity ( more a means of safety ) is pulled from the depths of momentary oblivion. Not wanting to interrupt her in her own whirlwind of broken silences inside her head, he reassures his smile silently, just as if he wants to inform her of her movements’ decryption on his part. 

[sometimesirp]

       “No, I don’t mind.” Elise is quick to reply, never really had her picture taken by someone who had a camera other than a simple one, other than the photos that were taken for the escort website -- which she doesn’t really count considering those were technically bait, something to lure people in, but even those photos lied, because they were so heavily photoshopped. And for a split second she almost feels a little embarrassed that Asher had most likely looked at those photos of her ( mostly faceless except for two ). But mostly she was curious as to what he thought of them, as someone who took photos himself, did he find them degrading, beautiful, or something else entirely? 

"A bit of fresh air is always nice.” She smiles back, “But I need a favor from you first.” She adds, pausing once more as she tugs her phone from her pocket once again, “But I’ll tell you in a minute.” She holds up her finger as she clicks on her phone, using the speed dial number for the office and making the quick ‘all’s good’ phone call. And when she’s done, there’s a smirk on her rosie lips after she tucks her phone away for good. 

“You can take photos of me, if you promise me that you’re going to relax. I don’t bite unless you want me to,” She laughs softly, her hand extending outward to settle gently on his forearm before it slips back down to her side, “You don’t have to be nervous around me.”

[univurs]

there’s almost no way she can stay sad whilst she’s around cook and it seems the same way for him. she appreciates this. his presence alone is all the more reassuring. the only other time melusine seems to feel this calm is when she visits the beach. the crashing waves bring her solace and comfort and so does this boy, it seems. 

“got any cigs?” she looks away sheepishly the thought of her mother finding out almost making her retract her statement, “it’s been a while-” 

[sometimesirp]

there’s always a certain calm melancholy that surrounds him when he’s around mel -- the sadness isn’t suppressed by any means, he hides it well, but that didn’t come without much practice. the solemn expression he always wears now defined as a neutral one by most. however, around her it wasn’t as heavy, something he still hadn’t figured out -- but he was too exhausted most of the time to question a lot.

he does however, offer a the softest of smiles at her question, “of course I do.” it was a vice he couldn’t convince himself to quit, but it was a staple holding him together, without the drugs and excessive amounts of alcohol he didn’t have as much to lean on anymore. 

he tugs his pack out of his jacket pocket and slips one of them out, holding it up by her mouth so she could take it with her lips.

[lungisms-deactivated20211128]

thumbs been down for awhile now, as she walks on the side of the road. it’s a strang feeling for someone like lua not to have money on her and her phone’s dead. not it needs a charge like a heart needs a defibrillator but it needs a shovel to be buried six feet under because it’s been run over. her mind could jog in so many directions but instead she focuses on the smell. all she sees is road and trees but she smells water. not necessarily lake or even ocean water but it reminds her of standing outside of grocery stores far out of the city next to those water distributors that you pop a quarter or two in to refill your jugs of water. the memory and aroma both remind her that she’s thirsty, so cue goes her hand to her throat. tries to well up spit in her cheeks before swallowing, trying to pretend is a tall glass of water. pausing her tired feet, she takes a look at the sky. sun hanging low; surely it will set soon.

@sometimesirp

[sometimesirp]

his eyes are settled on the road, trees passing by in a blur; one bye one. his mind oddly blank for once, and he’d find it refreshing but the silence seemed to be the calm before the storm most of the time -- and maybe by thinking that he was setting himself up for failure, however, it was hard to think differently when he only had himself for company, and nothing other than the sound of the static-y radio and the road to keep him company. if he wasn’t careful the voices would come bubbling through the cracks. his fingers tighten on the steering wheel as he feels his chest tighten from the anxiety the simple thought had caused -- nearly turning a blind eye to the figure on the road, walking alone by themselves. he blinks, his foot raising from the gas pedal, the wheels of his car slowing, he had to make sure he wasn’t just simply imagining her. so when he passes by her and she’s still visible in his rear view mirror he sighs gently, unsure of whether it’s from relief or something else entirely, he pulls over a good fifty feet in front of her, his engine still rumbling underneath the hood, but he leans out the opened window, “where are you headed?”

[amesbrisees]

           He thinks it applies to the guidelines of general politeness, if the simple question is phrased and enunciated in his voice’s distinct rasp. Uncertainty laced around the expectation, a wound-up bundle of doubt behind the pallid veil of his vacant eyes’ exceedingly fatigued sheen. And her retort should have been predicted to adapt the form of a basic counter question – one with fundamental justification, too. Had he chosen to bring more clarity to his inquiry’s meaning, he might have gotten around the tentative nod, serving as a reticent reply’s substitute. He swallows and the smile easily persists, while a breeze’s brushing by. The nod looks almost hopelessly tender, as though it’s meant to resemble an echo of his preceding request on outright permission. His lips are stiff as he swallows, the smile further creasing into his fleshen mask. It’s tempting, the laugh tickling under his tongue, awaiting its consent to tumble past trembling lips, in a dry yet sincere chuckle’s tarnished sound. He thinks it’s a joke at first, means of amusement, though his reply far off such intention. “Me? No.” His restraint laugh sounds humorlessly in the cradle of a gust of wind. A bright gaze falls down to where he keeps his camera secure in his hold, his head dangling from side to side. He looks up, meets her warm eyes another time. “Even if I wanted to be, it’d be too late for that.”

[sometimesirp]

          The laugh that leaves him, no matter how subtle it was, was a gem to hear -- and she can’t help but smile back at how ridiculous her question had been, although the serious undertone had been genuine, she didn’t actually think that he was an officer. And his added comment rang true, it would be far too late to do anything about it if he actually was in the force, the damage had already been done, they’d already had a session together, and so she smiles sheepishly, although her eyes still keep that confident gleam to them. “Then I don’t see why not.” She replies, “Do you want to stay out here or go somewhere else?” She questions, now that they’ve met up it would be fine for them to go somewhere else. She’d still have to make her phone call either way, and she gives a subtle reminder of that by taking it out of her back pocket, keeping it in her left hand for a moment before slipping it into her front pocket where it didn’t quite fit as well.

[sometimesirp]

i’ll do things on here next week. this week has just been too sdugaoisdgjasdg. so. <3

[amesbrisees]

          Life through a camera’s lens often proved its tendency to flatter reality. He then gazed onto a filtered image, devoid of the colors of shame and guilt, dripping with the hues of melancholy and grief, anger and a general gleam of tormenting woe. Sometimes he thinks he’s penitent, ready to make his apologies and move on from the past, haunting him to every waking hour. Sleeplessness still draws darkness beneath those vacant eyes of blue shade, the summertime insomnia now lasting for too long to dismiss as something temporary. And still, he can’t push himself past the fluctuating borderlines, ask for help and swallow pride and pain. Such little difference it’d make, though he does little to bring awareness to his obfuscating horizon. He spots her a moment after her voice calls out to him – he’d almost forgotten the sound of it. The dulcet ring, drowning out the faintest of foreign lilts. “Hi.” His hands still seize the camera as they are lowered in slowed down movements, all while the smallest of smiles emerges on his fatigued features the very same second’s frame. A moment’s beat flies by, barely acknowledged as his eyes’ invisible touch lingers. “Do you mind?” She will understand the true message of his simple question, decipher the wave of the camera in his grasp and translate it in thought.

[sometimesirp]

          Do you mind? The question registers quickly as well as the meaning behind it as he shifts the camera some in his hands. She purses her lips, amber eyes full of curiosity, but a devious smirk pulls at her lips, this time holding a deeper shade of red than her natural color. “You’d like to take my picture?” Her head cants to the side, her dark hair falling simultaneously more to that side. She’s never had a client want to take her photograph before, let along a photography student. “You’re not secretly in law-enforcement are you? Hoping to expose me and the agency?” Her lips remain in a smirk as she speaks, however there was a spark in her eyes that made it clear she was being completely serious with her question. She’d hate to throw away the only job she’s ever known and get put into jail for god knows how long.

[sometimesirp]

{ @amesbrisees

         “Hey there,” She announces her presence, the heels she wore creating a solid sound that he most likely heard before she spoke up. Glad to see the other again, he was a client that rarely came along -- standing out from the rest of her clients. However, she was left curious as she stood there, having watched him stand and fiddle with a camera that was in his hands before she’d decided to approach him. Elise remembers him talking about his class in school, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of kink that was presenting itself now that they’d already had a session together -- if it was him breaking out of the quiet shell he’d been so buried in the first time they met.

[amesbrisees]

      The first thing drawing her fickle attention in, is the affirmative agreement and the subsequent sense of distinct lightness it comes along with. Like a weight lifted from within her small chest’s confines, a cage of ivory bone and sweet blood, where petals of roses would grow, if it would have not been for the prospect of confronting everything she feared the most. As trivial as it may seem to those who willingly judged prior to gaining understanding for a certain instance, in which they adapt to the trifling role of a bystander.

She tiptoes carefully along the border she’s so adamant to not trespass. The edge she treads so carefully around, avoidance pushing her further and further apart from the essence of nightmarish dreams.

Another few steps and she lines up with him. The bundle of nervousness, a tight-wound coil bearing the memories of a juvenile mind. Salt in her lungs and nothingness swallowing her whole, fear as it eats away at her and eventually the strong hands of a savior on her tiny arm. She swallows, breathing hitches and for a moment dizziness overwhelms her with mock menace. A nod is what she wants to deliver as a muted response to ever so kind and reassuring words. He’s saved her once, he could do it again, especially in shallow waters, where the feeling of danger was miles behind. “Should I – jump? What if I scratch my knee?”

[sometimesirp]

      He could understand her fear to an extent, however he couldn’t place himself her in her shoes, or feel the way she did when standing in front a body of water, small or vast. He could only imagine how she must feel, place himself in the mindset of one of his own largest fears -- which for him was the way he felt when he finally went to war. How he’d wanted to be a hero, stand for his country and help win the war -- yet when he was out there on the battle field, gun in his hands, he felt petrified, no amount of adrenaline could’ve saved him from the way it felt to aim a gun at a living man -- and yet he managed to do so until that explosion whilst on the carrier wagon home and he’d wound up a creature of the sea. 

The water was his safe haven now, there were things in the water that should be feared, yes -- but those creatures usually lurked far beneath the surface, in the depths of the ocean where only those equipped to go down there would encounter them. 

Her question has him shaking his head, not so in a manner of her question being ridiculous, but he was silently saying no, “Just step off the side, I wont let you go far into the water. I promise. Once you’ve managed that your trusty floaty there wont let you get any further.”

[amesbrisees]

      And perhaps she should have known – foreseen the unfortunate alteration of events. That he has always been a little too worthy of trust to keep the promises he makes. She stands unsure near the edge of clear blue, the turquoise shimmer drawing images of the light’s moving reflection on her skin. Almost like a child she looks, with the arm floats secured tight and a small floating tire in the most saturated hue of pink, loosened by the art of transparent material, around her middle. Just as though measures of safety are required, but instead, they just give her the aura of pathetic pitifulness. She takes a step aside, eyes unwavering as they dive down into the clear cold, her stomach churning at the mere image for sore eyes. “Can’t we go to the shallow end?”

[sometimesirp]

        “We can start at the shallow end,” He nods at her question, slicing through the water effortlessly as he moves over some, his midriff now out of the water as he stands, his arms still extended out towards her, fingers beckoning her forward. He wouldn’t allow her to go under the water, or get any where close to being in any danger what so ever, he’d have his eye on her at all times. 

Although he felt guilty for making her feel so uncomfortable, he wanted to help her get over this fear of hers, even if it took months. 

He wades a little closer to the edge now, index finger poking at the donut shaped floaty that was around her waist, his gentle smile never wavering. He knew she was afraid, it was worn prominently in her eyes, but she needed to know that she’d be safe. “It’ll be ok, I promise -- I know you don’t want to do this...but I’ll keep a hold of you at all times. Ok?”

[sometimesirp]

@amesbrisees

     “Hey -- hey, hey, come here.” He extends his arm out towards her from where he stood in the halfway point of the pool, not too deep, and not too shallow, a bright reassuring smile settled on his face. His now short hair (thanks to her makeover) lying flat against his forehead. 

[zeitloslebengone]

“Of course, you are.” No, El hadn’t been expecting excitement, but questions and a conversation would have been better than just silence. She wasn’t sure if she should be upset or not, but the truth was that at the moment she couldn’t look at him.

[sometimesirp]

     He wanted to be excited, but there were so many obstacles they had yet to jump through, and he’d always been someone who saw the negatives before the positives. But he feels restless, and the fact that she wont look at him (although deserved) amplified that feeling. His lips tug downward in a small frown, his brows pulling together. His arm outstretches, fingers brushing against her side gently with obvious hesitance before he allows his hand to settle on her stomach where their child was growing. “El --” He breathes, wanting her to look at him.

[zeitloslebengone]

“Hey is such a big word.”

[sometimesirp]

    He clears his throat, his hand running over the top of his head, short hair moving back into place with his hand no longer being an obstacle against it, “I’m sorry.” Warren -- the man of many words. However, he was still somewhat in shock after the latest development. 

[sometimesirp]

      “Hey --”

@innocentdelirium

[amesbrisees]

       Cluelessness was never quite apparent in her small world often enough to be considered her expertise. Especially, if the topic of fashion finds its way into her issue’s irritating narration. Though a second opinion rarely finds vicious resentment, given she’s the one to go for a blunt approach. She glances at the vibrant tincture the red shoes carry, one brow furrowed as lips press tighter together, just a little. At least he’s honest, unlike the elderly couple who compelled her to continue onwards, along the pavement, next to high building facades. Gave her an unfiltered statement of what she bought as his own genuine slant, concerning the topic of her attire on a bright summer day, without another moment’s hesitation. “Okay, but like – if I wore shorts and maybe a tank-top? I’m invited to this party tonight, you see, and I was told to dress casually but I also don’t want my clothes’ color scheme to be so uniform.”

[sometimesirp]

       He envisions all that she places out on the theoretical table, lips pursing some in thought as he imagines her wearing what she’d described. “Well if you want to stand out at this party of yours, go with the red ones.” He answers confidently, the small image of her in his mind vanishing, his mind now completely in the present as he offers her a friendly smile. He wasn’t hardwired to know about fashion but he’s learned in his three years of life that the internet was quite the useful place. And he made a note to research more when he was back home, so that he’d be more prepared if something like this were ever to happen again.

[univurs]

she’s refused to look him in the eyes for about five minutes now, most of which is the fault of this conversation. it has her feeling vulnerable. but she sucks in a breath of air once cook reassures her, a small smile inching its way onto her mouth. she says nothing, just nods in affirmation and leans her head upon his shoulder. 

[sometimesirp]

he gives her a small smile, not that she could see it as she rests her head on his shoulder. so instead he places his hand gently on her knee, giving he a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing across the surface of her knee, letting his hand rest there for a moment longer before he pulls it away.

[amesbrisees]

        His notice of her motion falls short, wonder and circling thoughts vanished as soon as a delicate hand lies still once again. Strangers can be the best company. He parts his lips, though no sound tumbles past their chapped membrane. The lack of uttered reply makes him nervous, causes a electric wave of uncertainty strike across his mind’s horizon, impact on the thoughts currently residing on ashen grounds. Strangers really are the best company, aren’t they? A question he sees no need in answering, skips a single step ahead on his way, down the road of reflection. It’s the reason he has hired her in the first place, the anonymity and solace woven into the knowledge she knows little to nothing about him at all. Just like she’s just a shadow against the walls of a hotel room, he believes to turn into a vague image in her memory’s shallow waters, carried away by strong tides with each day, that passed. He doesn’t wonder how many men sacrifice their money for her company, doesn’t long to unfurl the coil of unease at the mere thought. “Probably.” It’s to be accepted with a certain portion of distrust in his word’s degree of honesty. He still doubts she’d actually want him to join her on a trip across the large pond, into the European metropolis.

And for once, he takes his time to look at her. Take his time to follow the fine lines of her comely features, the way she captures her lower lip and how her warm gaze descends and draws a downward trail for mere seconds. Her words tempt another faint curvature to bend his lips, form them into the expression of a tender smile, though it remains a bare attempt, though his expression seemingly softens beneath the words she sounds so genuinely. He is uncertain of how to answer, nods, for he is a clueless visitor, with no other option but trust second-hand experiences.

Secrets – how much they weigh and how they can strain the poor individual bearing them. But he offers her another smile, its physical weakness proof of exhaustion, nods. Genuinely curious. “Promise.” It almost counts as a raspy whisper, merely above the sheer tunes, which make the essential difference. He’s smoked too many cigarettes and he’s certain she can hear; his voice betrays him, as it does so very often.

Our little secret. Just between the two of them, in the confines of a hotel room with surely more than one story to tell. Their secret, and he can’t help but wonder, how many secrets she shares with all the others.

[sometimesirp]

         Elise thinks nothing of the way his voice sounded other than the fact that he was nervous, however, she’d give it to him, he seemed to be loosening up a little more now that they were having a decent conversation.

She smiles softly at the promise that he gives, admiring the the way he smiled once more -- “I like your smile.” She breathes just before flashing him a bright grin of her own, teeth visible, as well as the small dimples that rested on either side of her mouth. Her thoughts bubbling to the surface more freely now, feeling as if she could say more to him now without stepping on boundaries. 

Shifting some on the bed, bringing her legs up towards her chest as she reaches down towards the laces of her ankle cut boots, untying them and pulling them off, casually letting them clatter to the carpeted floor. And then she pulls her legs underneath her, sitting cross-legged, her hands resting on her shins, her body language like that of a teenage girl at a sleepover as she rocks forward some, that bright grin still plastered on her features -- hues almost twinkling.

"I’m sure it would look even better if you let it meet your eyes,”  Hoping that she didn’t over step, but if it was any consolation, she didn’t expect an answer, it was just a thought she couldn’t help but share, and so she sucks in a breath, lips pursed some, “What about you, Asher, where would you like to be, if you could be anywhere?” Curious as to where he’d like to be, feeling as if it would help her get to know him a little more. 

[amesbrisees]

         The habit of exposing odd questions with lack of substantial reason, was one which had been in development, only in recent time. Plain curiosity compelled and he could not bother himself to muster the willingness needed for foreseeable change. In times, when your only friend was dire fatigue and the longing for a home, which had resented you since the dawn of a young life, drive was to be searched for in vain. Purpose had seemingly simmered to barren ground and had soon tainted his blurred outlook on reality’s harsh colors, blinding in their saturated glow through the veil of storm clouds.

Sometimes he fears to find himself, stuck forever. In this city, which reeks of smog and bad choices, leaves a bitter taste on the surface of an idle tongue, hesitant to move and aid in the undertaking of stringing words into a work of easy comprehension. Or lack thereof. The apprehension feels almost like a wound up coil sitting in his throat. Whenever his thoughts venture just an inch too far, he’s reminded of its nettlesome existence. A broad pit of numbed emotions more often finds its contents steered into evident vexation’s direction, near the nook in which beautiful sorrow resides. More and more often, day by day.

He presses chapped lips onto one another, prematurely apologetic as he lowers his head with a half-shake. “Can’t imagine you’d actually want that.” The smile subsequent to his reply appears nervous, like a silent Sorry. He’s just a stranger after all, could be anyone. And so is she. Even while she sounds an answer, which rings truthful enough, his smile turns more genuine. He shakes his head another time in a slightly less vague motion, one corner of his mouth tugged further than the other. His eyes remain untouched by the shadow of a kind expression. “It doesn’t.” Not to him, at least. “I’ve never been to Paris, before.” A long beat struts past on the face of an invisible clock he pays little attention to, all while his expression fades like vapor in the nocturnal breeze. “Would they still be hidden treasures, if you told me about them?”

[sometimesirp]

         She’s shaking her head as well, fingers stretching out as if to tangle in his short hair, but they fall short -- the boundaries which were still held high making themselves known once more. Deciding that if anything was going to happen, she’d allow him to initiate it. “But I would, strangers can be the best company you know.” Given the chance that he was some creep who was out to harm her in this theoretical trip to Paris, she could take care of herself, to an extent. And it was her job to make her clients believe that they were special, many paying for her to be their girlfriend for a day. Everyone wants to feel like they’re needed, like they’re wanted -- and she was that person to fill that void, however big or small it was in each individual. However, there was truth that rang in her words, strangers often made the best company because you could get to know them, they were a blank slate that was just waiting to be written.

She likes the look of the smile on his lips, even if it didn’t quite meet his eyes -- in which she assumed would look even more beautiful, and she finds herself bitting at her lesser lip, soft eyes trailing down momentarily before she meets the icy hue of his gaze once more. “Beautiful doesn’t quite describe Paris, and as a photography student, I’m sure you wouldn’t know where to begin.” A soft laugh brushes past glossy lips. She shifts, sitting up straight once more, no longer laying on her side, her back pressed against the headboard of the bed. 

“I believe they would be, but --” she trails off and takes in a breath slowly, her chest rising and falling, “You’d have to promise me you wouldn’t tell anyone else.” The corner of her mouth turns up, “Our little secret.”