#drouklazher

[unheimlig-blog]

@drouklazher 

                                                     ❝ -- So about those sharks. ❞

[executare]

Dark Morning Rain | @drouklazher

              “...I have not been far, and not for very long.” The answer to a question he is almost certain might be breaths away from bubbling on the other man’s lips. It is not like Carvel to go disappearing before daylight, as many a time as he is found awake at the desk in his guest room or pondering by the window at all hours of the night (sleepless, sleepless as always.) He has to imagine that he was nowhere to be found this time to be a troubling change of pace. But he is here now--with the door behind him nudged quietly shut against the dark, stormy grey of daybreak outside. For all the good it does when he brings half the storm in with him; he drips with it from his hair and face and coat pulled tightly closed at his front, blinks rain from his eyes when they look the fellow’s face round and through. Not very far. Not for very long, he says. Perhaps very far and very long enough all the same.

               “You know I do not sleep well, if at all. I couldn’t be locked away in my room for very much longer after such a night as that which is past.” He explains, as he supposes an explanation is at least somewhat desired (somewhat owed, even if not), all the while he combs his wet hair loose of whatever little ornament had been fastened in long before. “The sky was clear when I had left. A storm like this can only come from nowhere sometimes.” The ribbon comes away soaked like the rest of him. He strings it idly between both gloved hands while he spares a glance out into the day blackening behind one window. “Pity. I had hoped you would take me to other places today.” 

[nightslain]

|| @drouklazher ||

             ...But they are not monsters the way he understands them, and never have they been in their brief, telling time together. That thought still wars unhinged about his head in this company he chooses--warily, impulsively--to be dubious of even yet, knowing nothing else to be quite so soon. Leon has long since grown skittish with the word ‘trust’, soft-heartedness be damned; but he must admit that such a heart as his is nowhere near numb to the feeling of family this place has. The look of it too--a home of considerable grandeur that the knight has been walked through while he found it likened to many he has known. Housing faces he cannot liken the same way, but that look at each other with love spoken silently in the spaces between conversation and passing by.

             The man, his host, has children of his own, Leon soon came to find. He’s not sure whether to be disgruntled with the naivety of never considering what lives even monsters yearn for, what else they do with eternity besides what ill-gotten stories there are (or what sorry things he’s seen that still blacken the world of his dreams.) He does not sit today in Ragar’s company, but stands with numb wonder jostling his blood like the tide. A hand is poised in hovering, pensive uncertainty towards the knight’s young face, brow furrowed to thoughtful effect. “Two children..?” he echoes his thoughts aloud in the quiet of the man’s serene home, “It is...not spoken of where I am from, that vampires or those of their likeness might yearn the same as we for love or family. I hadn’t thought you a man with any children. Though I am challenged very often with my old thoughts, lately.”

[soulcleft]

To be a part of the schemes of his Lordship to have them all engage with one another [ and to drag the Noblesse out of his solitude ] now leading up to a 'festivity' that would cause an abundance of headaches, sole for the fact that he was quite so eager in riling up otherwise calm encounters. Alas, mayhaps, Ragar could use this all for a 'payback' - had his teaching not shown that the Princess was quite a natural? So he approaches, bowing slightly. "My Lady, may I have this dance?"

@drouklazher

A rarity, that is, the relaxed form of the heir lurking among the shadows. The spotlight would one day shine on her, having to deal with the attention and scrutiny of all upon her form. For the moment though, she will relish in the rare solitude, observing the festivities with an amused ( albeit veiled ) gaze. The Lord is the person currently attracting the attention of all those in attendance. Whether it be facilitating conversations ( ah, poor Krasis, taking the Lord’s teasing words seriously once more ) to playing various games taken from the human world to test ( Edian seems to be dead set on obliterating all the apples on Urokai’s head ).

Imagine, the most powerful beings in the world, being made to indulge in strange activities that would otherwise lower their noble dignity. Then again, with their talents, they could make a simple game look quite enviable, no? Head tilted to the side, Raskreia’s gaze continues to change from person to person. Having gotten rid of that shyness long ago, what prevents her from joining in the activities is a simple matter of observation. 

However, it would not be long til the Lord would do his best to bring his daughter out from the shadows. A mischievous twinkle, obvious schemes hidden by good will, a dancing segment of this ‘party’ would be starting. Though not directly called out by the Lord, the princess is aware of the hidden message detailed in the Lord’s announcement.

Ragar’s approach is not too surprising; of course the Lord would wish to see the outcome of the lessons imparted upon his daughter, with due respect from the Kertia family leader. It is not hard to allow a thin smile to tilt upon her lips. Despite the stern demeanor many associated with Ragar Kertia, it is interesting to think about his approach in a different way. Important note: as soon as the elder bowed, she could see the Lord’s countenance change.

❝ You may. ❞ Allowing a breath of a laugh to slip past, she fits her hand into his and easily falls into a suitable posture with the family leader. The atmosphere would change, as all eyes curiously turn towards the future Lord that left the sidelines to take the center of attention with Kertia’s leader. Only confidence would follow, faith completely placed in her mentor; in the background though, the dumbfounded expression upon the Lord’s face is most rewarding from this scenario.

[unheimlig-blog]

@drouklazher - |: 

❝ You look as though you’ve not slept in months, Ragar. ❞ The overwhelming stress from nearly losing his child, undoubtedly. But he’s safe now. Would recover, given time. ❝ I do have something I could give you to help you sleep. I’ve had it tested-- ❞ Though the first few tries hadn’t gone well. Hadn’t it taken them days to wake up the first time? Such a terrible failure. [ yet it was all in the past! ]. 

❝ Or you can share a bed with me tonight. ❞ With their rekindled relationship, it wasn’t out of the question. ❝ And if you desire neither of those, I’ll find something else. ❞

[executare]

@drouklazher

               “I don’t much care for his babbling.” And surely this is a surprise to no-one. Reputation of Carvel’s fickle temper precedes him as much as anything else of his person does. This world’s ever jovial lord has failed from the beginning to wrest anything remotely smile-like from the Gourmet in all these comings and goings, surely will fail evermore; today shows nary even a shadow of difference, if the icy set of Carvel’s feline eyes is anything to go by. Relief seems to soften the planes of his face though, merely to be rid of such exuberant company and in this man’s quieter presence as they shepherd him outside, to walk the restlessness out of both their limbs.

               “He has not changed in all the times I have had audience with him. Grown worse with age in fact, I think.” A growl troubles his throat, soft though the sound is when he turns his face once more to a familiar guide. “Though I imagine there must be worse lords to have, I can’t tell you I find his company any more appealing.”

[unheimlig-blog]

@drouklazher​​​​  - pay attention to viktor :///////

     Snap of twigs has footsteps fall still, rustle of shrubbery immediately catching his attention. Unusual. Not many would be ill-considered enough to dog his movements. ❝ Now, who could be watching me? And for how long? ❞ Ah, ah, ah-- But it’s evident. 

   And so head tilts towards bushes, hair falling in front of his face when he starts to converse to the darkness encompassing the forest. ❝ Did they tell you to keep an eye on me? ❞ Whom ‘they’ were was no secret [ snakes masquerading as men ]. ❝ Or are you only following out of sheer curiosity of where my adventures might take me tonight? ❞ To his Master’s home-- How exciting! Yet some blinded by their stupidity would believe otherwise. ❝ I was thinking about hunting down a couple of nobles and using them for experiments, by the way. ❞ A joke. 

   Hand is held out towards where he knows a certain family leader lurks, grin adorning his face. ❝ Either way, prowling in the shadows like that, assuming I wouldn’t notice-- How awfully rude. ❞ Frankenstein is all too aware of how the other could conceal himself should he not wish to be located, but that wouldn’t stop the light teasing. ❝ Come, Ragar. At least walk beside me a while. ❞ Unlike those other pests, his company would never be refused. Unlike them, the scientist admired this particular individual [ more than most could imagine ]. ❝ Unless you’ve turned shy on me? Was yesterday evening too much? ❞

[unheimlig-blog]

@drouklazher​ said: NONVERBAL RP STARTERS / 🛌 Crawl under the covers with my muse  [ accepting ]

          Extra weight dipping down mattress is immediately remarked, the movement of another body slipping up next to his rumpling covers and dragging them away from the scientist [ abrupt caress of cold air has shivers rack body ]. Vision doesn’t need to adjust to know whom it was. Merely propinquity alone gives it away, and when bedside light clicks on after fumbling hand grasps the switch, Frankenstein's met with a beloved face he'd so despairingly missed. 

       Propping himself up on an elbow, fingers reach out to brush through the intruder’s long hair, palm then lightly resting on his back. What a delightful sight. ❝ First day back and you already want to sleep with me and steal the duvet. I’m almost flattered. ❞ The smirk is there, yet the bite of an oftentimes mocking tone isn’t -  Rather, it’s undeniably tender. 

         Releasing brief hold, arm lifts, enabling Ragar to inch forwards if he so wished. ❝ --  But if you’re going to snake under the covers like this, at least climb into my arms, dearest. ❞  It had been too long since they’d last found themselves like this, alone and hidden away from prying eyes. ❝ They’ve waited for over 800 years to hold you close again. ❞ Love is a peculiar thing, he muses. Incomprehensible. Something he presumably shouldn’t be able to experience according to tales of yonder [ for monsters cannot ]. Yet here, with this man and a heart that hammers in his chest, they are tossed aside as preposterous.