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Post by ROGUE JINX MOORE on Jul 24, 2010 13:25:50 GMT -5
 Rogue | Jinx | Moore Understand that I need to. |
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Post by ROGUE JINX MOORE on Jul 29, 2010 23:03:24 GMT -5
Rogue | Jinx | Moore "Rogue? Where are you going?" A velvety voice inquired, laced with a rich Italian accent. The man who had spoken had gone from sitting on one end of the room one second, to standing on the opposite end of the room with a firm grip on his daughter's wrist the next. Rogue, who had one hand on the doorknob and was in mid-stride, seemed to become a statue. She remained perfectly still, not so much as breathing. But, then again, she was a vampire . . . she didn't really need to, did she? In just as swift a motion as her father, she had freed herself from his grasp and was standing toe-to-toe with him. "I wish to venture outside, Father. 1Io non vedo perché avrei dovuto restare quando sono chiaramente non necessaria per questo `incontro`." The younger vampire responded in a venomous whisper, switching her words to smooth Italian. Now, Rogue's father was not the sort of man you would expect to see every day in passing on a street. Oh, no . . . he was the sort you might expect to catch a glance of shortly before everything goes permanently dark. Considering he never slouched, he was at what could be a considerably intimidating height of seven feet and nine inches. He wasn't just long, though -- but well-built, as well. Strong yet lean, he appeared to be not a day over twenty-eight at best -- though, really, he was well beyond that.
The giant of a man, after some time, permitted a sigh to flee from his lips. His pale grey eyes showed no real emotion. However, for just a hot minute, Rogue could have sworn she caught a hint of disappointment in them. "Molto bene. Essere sicuro e attento. . . cercare di non mettersi nei guai troppo?" He responded. Despite having such a deep voice and attempting to speak in something of a whisper, the man couldn't help but chuckle as he gave his daughter's shoulder a squeeze. The younger vampire gave a small, simple nod as a response without so much as a second thought. Her father knew very well what she would likely be up to and, being her father, he also had a pretty good idea as to how much of a magnet for danger she was. She did have her way of flirting with it, though.
After receiving a small hug and a peck on the forehead, Rogue didn't wait a moment more before exiting the building. Stepping out onto the doorstep, she gave a small sigh. Her emotionless jade eyes skimmed around, taking in her surroundings. Her father had been contacted, recently, by an old friend and was invited to come out to his penthouse. It wasn't that it wasn't a nice place, or anything, it was just . . . Rogue knew when she wasn't invited. Shaking her head a little, she looked down at her attire. She was dressed rather down today, for whatever reason. A stray wind bit at her face and toyed with her hair, slapping the strands that weren't put into a messy sort of up-do all about her face. Had her hair not been in her face, she probably wouldn't have even noticed the bitter cold wind. Simply pulling the strands back into place she took a deep breath and stepped off the porch, headed into the nearby woods.
Somewhere along her trek from the porch to the edge of the woods, the young half-vampire became a small wolf. She knew the Lestrange Manor wasn't too far off . . . perhaps she should pop in for a visit? Lock would likely be at least mildly pleased with her presence, she assumed. As she went deeper into the woods, though, she caught the scent of her friend. The wolf stopped in her tracks and looked about, taking in the scents. Above, the grey sky was stretched apart so that small flakes could escape, a few nestling into the wolf's fur. Rogue closed her eyes for a moment -- listening, smelling, and concentrating. She had Bellatrix's scent . . . and it didn't seem to be too far off. She was fairly certain she'd heard a roar, as well. With not so much as a second thought, the wolf's eyes ripped open and she broke out into a run, following her senses.
By the time she was close enough to hear what was being said -- and to note that not only was Bella in the woods with a dragon, but with someone of the same blood, as well -- Rogue was back in her human shape. From where she was, her keen eyes could tell it was Raziel -- one of Bella's brothers. The half-vampire new neither of the Lestrange girl's brothers all too well . . . though, they did strike her as interesting. And how couldn't Raziel, at least, be, give that he was there in the woods before a dragon? There was another person there, though. As she stepped a bit closer, she could tell it was Cilia -- a fellow Slytherin. Rogue didn't know her too well, either.
"Hope I'm not unwanted, here?" The vampire smirked, stopping a few sideways steps away from Lock. It was then that her eyes caught the man there, evidently begging for his life. Why hadn't she heard that? No . . . how hadn't she heard that? Hm. Evidently by tuning it out -- she did have a knack for that. Normally, she hated the sound of begging. For whatever reason, though, it began to amuse her, now. Her smirk spread a little as she looked between him and the dragon -- it wasn't terribly difficult to assume what was about to take place . . . so long as one had a creative enough imagination, anyway. Rogue gave a small sigh and folded her hands together behind her back, her jade eyes patiently awaiting a response from either of the Lestranges or Cilia. Though, she had to admit, she probably wouldn't leave if Cilia told her to -- maybe if Raziel did, but she would question Bella. And why wouldn't she? Rogue was a proud creature, and didn't follow orders too well. She wouldn't listen to Cilia because she didn't know her all that well and, well, she wouldn't have a second thought about laying her to waste. As for Raziel, she was still debating. Like Cilia, she didn't know him all that well. On the other hand, he was Bella's brother. Should he tell her to leave, it would probably depend on how he said it. With Bellatrix, again, it would depend on how it was said. She would more than likely stay, though -- especially if they really were about to feed the man to that dragon . . . that looked like just too much fun.|| Translations:
1"I do not see why I should have to stay when I am clearly not needed for this `meeting`."
2"Very well. Be safe and careful . . . try not to get into too much trouble?" || |
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Post by ROGUE JINX MOORE on Aug 5, 2010 1:23:40 GMT -5
Rogue | Jinx | Moore The day had started off innocent enough, for the vampire. And, given that it was summer, she was somewhat more relaxed than normal. She just . . . felt so free, without the constant supervision of teachers or her father there to hold her back -- if only for a moment, anyway. This summer, her father had chosen that they stay in England -- hence the reason why she was on her way over to the Lestrange Manor, now. Despite it only being a few days into summer, Rogue had found herself haunting the Lestrange Manor more than her Uncle Jarvis' estate -- where she and her father were staying.
There hadn't been much to do, apparently, when she had reached the girl's home. Which was funny, really -- one would think that there would have been tons to do when your friends allegedly psychotic brothers were out . . . especially given the reputations of both girls. And, yet, all they truly did was sit about and act like muggle girls talking. On the other hand . . . did muggle girls speak of death in conversational tones and laugh while plotting the demises of others?
The vampire hadn't been there for terribly long when she explained to Bella she needed to leave -- she was getting hungry. Sure, she'd fed already once this morning, but that meant nothing -- Rogue was practically always hungry. Bella walked her to the door and, somehow, they wound up speaking a bit more. Honestly, Rogue didn't even know what it was about -- she had switched over to auto-pilot the second she'd told Bellatrix she wanted to leave. Just when she thought she was going to have to reiterate her wishes, Bella's mood seemed to change entirely. Suddenly, she wasn't looking at her anymore -- she was looking past her. Rogue didn't like that. Curious, she turned her head slightly in the direction Bellatrix was suddenly so fascinated with. Turning back to Bella, the other girl had out a `goodbye`and was storming off before Rogue could ask what the hell was up.
Okay . . . now to get some food. If only she could move her feet, though. For some ridiculous reason, she felt glued to her spot before the door Bella had opened earlier -- through which now entered two boys. Bella's brothers. So . . . these were the monsters? If her memory served her correctly, the Lestrange girl was on worse terms with one than the other. For the life of the vampire, though, she couldn't remember which.
The second the one had crossed the threshold, however, she suddenly couldn't give less of a damn which was which. Her eyes had traced his incredible body and met his own while he had done the same to her. He was different . . . so different from Bella and most everyone Rogue had met before. It both intrigued and irked her that this bastard was seriously going to stand there and make her feel as though he'd held up a mirror to her face. The air had grown heavy with the tension that seemed to spark between them -- most muggles would probably either be gasping for air or being placing bets as to whether it could be cut like a knife through butter.
There was so much in just one look . . . almost too much. Rogue could imagine this was what it had to be like when two monsters met. There were thousands of feelings screaming within her and pounding on the inside of her head; confusion, challenge, lust, hunger, rage, and curiosity. A lethal concoction that, looking back on, the vampire should have prevented to use of . . . especially between the likes of herself, and the man before her. She could only wonder what the scene had to look like to someone on the outside . . . probably extremely odd. It was almost as though the whole world had been erased and all that was left was her and him, wrapped up in a single moment up so much tension. Hell, she only barely caught the movement of the other brother chasing up the stairs -- she didn't care, though. She couldn't . . . not when presented before someone like this.
Just when the tension seemed to have swelled to an enormous amount, and it almost looked as though the monsters would pass each other without so much as a second look, Rogue felt and saw the man before her grab her hair and force her to the wall. The flat of her left foot hit the wall behind her, cushioning the impact for the rest of her. Her foot slid down the wall to kiss the floor once more, however, as it seemed there was going to be another scene of silence. Looking up at the man, she was well aware of just how much her eyes were betraying her -- not only had they become ruby around the pupil, they were also spilling out her thoughts and emotions. To the dimwitted bystander, it most likely appeared as though the girl was in trouble. After all, she was pinned to the wall by a man known for being -- what were one of the names Bella used? -- a bastard . . . not to mention he was a bit taller than her, as well. Rogue only had an idea of what she was getting herself into, right then -- she never could have truly known the entirety of it. All she knew was, she could handle him . . . and, honestly, she was beginning to think she wouldn't mind it.
Pressed tighter to the wall, she didn't so much as blink when the man drew closer and pressed his lips to hers. She knew she shouldn't have closed her eyes -- that was a given -- but . . . how the hell was she supposed to help it? Letting her emotions play puppeteer while her body acted like a marionette, she found her hands shooting up and wrapping around the man's neck. Her fingers played around a little, dancing and holding his hair, and one traced down his neck a little. No greeting . . . no introduction . . . hell, she felt all they really needed to know just then had been in the looks they'd burned into each other. Now, this wasn't something Rogue was used to -- in most situations, she demanded so much before whatever boy she happened to be with could even think of kissing her. But . . . now? She didn't think she could truly deny him -- not in this position, anyway. He'd caught her interest, and would probably keep it locked up in a cage away from her. It was around this time he had pulled back a little and he was speaking. Octavius! That was his name. It had a different ring to it when he said it, as opposed to when Bellatrix spat it. A smirk eased its way onto the vampire's lips, then, exposing the tips of her fangs. She dropped her hands from the man and let them rest along the wall on either side of her, tilting her head slightly so that she could look at him. "I'm Rogue. I say what the hell are we waiting on?" She replied, most of her intentions just as obvious as his. There was something about this man . . . the way he could make her blood boil and her emotions run amok. He was different than most, but similar to her. Oh, this was going to be interesting.
The rest of the day and beginning of the night had found Rogue in some sort of club with Octavius. She didn't know the club, or most of the people there. One might think she was a regular, however, given how she . . . interacted with most of the other guests. Tavius had gotten more than a few drinks in her and, after a while, it became rather evident they were both drunk. When Rogue was drunk, her behavior depended entirely on her mood when she started drinking. Given the combination of emotions she had had when she had begun to drink with the Lestrange boy, the outcome of her actions should have been easy to predict. She was lustful and violent, managing to spill plenty of blood but only once her twice her own drink.
A few dead bodies, gallons of blood, and hours later, Rogue could be found in Octavius' bed, lying half-naked beside him beneath the blankets. She could have slept away the rest of the day had the blankets not been ripped away from her. Cursing under her breath in Italian, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked over to the man. At least, she tried to look at him -- her attention was soon stolen by the rest of the damage done in the room. It looked like a couple of wild animals had snuck in and destroyed each other. There was blood just about everywhere -- on the walls . . . on the bed . . . a bit on Tavius . . . fuck, she even felt a bit of dried blood on herself. Irritated, she sat up and rubbed off the dried blood. God, she probably looked like a train-wreck. Her hair had come down rather quickly, and was lying helplessly around her face. And, as previously mentioned, she was half-naked.
She had been observing the rest of the room when Octavius had spoken. Normally, she would have smacked him right then and there for just calling her `dollface` -- just then, however, she was too busy snickering about the fact that the doorknob was missing. Smirking to herself while she pondered the man's question, she scratched the back of her head and looked around a bit more. Hot-damn, the bed was chipped, too? Giving a small stretch before she turned back to the man, she gave a small shrug and flopped back on the bed. "I'm wondering how the hell I'm able to remember what happened." She snickered, turning her head to face him once more. Looking past him to the clock, it was only then did it fully sink in where she was. Holy fuck. She was in the Lestrange Manor . . . in Octavius' semi-destroyed room . . . in the same house as Bella -- Rogue's friend and Tavius' sister, who hated his guts. Well, at least she was right . . . this was quite interesting, indeed. |
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Post by ROGUE JINX MOORE on Sept 15, 2010 16:17:02 GMT -5
Rogue | Jinx | Moore Winter holidays . . . never the best for the vampire, but never the worst, either. They simply happened, whether she wanted them to or not. The snow seemed to serve no purpose other than to remind her of the fact she was incapable of experiencing the cold like a human; the trees positioned in the Great Hall stood innocently, stirring vague memories of carefully decorated boxes being ripped to shreds on the morning of December twenty-fifth. Personally, Rogue would like to skip all of the needless cheer, receive whatever present were to be received, and return things to normal. She neither believed in a god, nor did she deny his or her existence altogether -- the belief some man with a beard watching her every move and deciding her fate just didn’t tickle her fancy. And it was for this reason she didn’t truly celebrate Christmas -- hell, she barely even acknowledged it. She likely would have been trapped in Hogwarts the entire break had her father not talked her into visiting some family friends, attending parties, and going to some `business` meetings. It hadn’t been all that bad, really -- she’d gotten to see Octavius, after all -- but it was now the twentieth of the final month of the year, and she found herself in the dreaded institution once more.
Ever have one of those days when your pillows and your comforter practically whisper to you? Tell you that getting out of bed is a bad idea? Well, it was beginning to look like one of those days for Miss Moore. Pulling her comforter up to her chin, the vampire curled slightly into a ball and closed her jade-green eyes. She didn’t have to be a creature with acute senses to hear the excited squeals and giggles of the other girls still in the dormitory. Clenching her teeth, feeling rather generous, she attempted to tune out their voices. Behind her closed lids, she could envision the sort of Christmas she could only pray for -- one where blood stole the place of water and filled the streams and leaked through a dark sky; where the fluff of snow created an ideal playground for any psychotic, blood-thirsty being. But, alas, her dreams were shattered as one girl let out a considerably loud squeal of joy. Honestly, what could have been that exciting in the letter she was sharing? Nothing Rogue could think of. In a horrific flash, the vampire was out of her bed, had broken the nose of the loud girl as well as knocked out a couple of her teeth and was pressing her face to the ground. Her friends stood around in mild shock, uncertain of whether to attempt to remove the beast from their friend or not. In the end, they decided the latter was probably the wiser of the decisions. After there were several streaks of blood covering the floor and blood dripped from the nose and mouth of the girl, Rogue concluded the message had been conveyed. “If you value your vocal chords, you won’t do that again. Got it? Consider this a warning.” She snarled. And with that, the pale creature jumped to her feet and moved to ready herself for the day.
By the time she had returned from a moderately lengthy shower, the other girls had vacated the room. Oh, well. It took a while for the fickle creature to find something she actually felt like wearing but, nonetheless, she was successful. A simple, long-sleeved white blouse with a black corseted skirt and black tights worked just fine. As her sleek black heels sounded with each step she made to the Great Hall, she found herself fidgeting with her necklace -- an early Christmas gift from her father.
Before long, the vampire was entering the Great Hall without so much as a second thought or a feeling of forgetfulness. As she moved to a vacant table, she spotted Countess perched at the teachers’ table. Giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment and paying no mind to the girl attempting to converse with her, Rogue let her jade eyes skim the rest of the room. All in all, the place was rather vacant. Sure, there were people in it -- most of which she could place a name to -- but, really, no one she was all than close to. Then again, was she really that close to anyone? Sure, there was Octavius but that was . . . complicated. And Bellatrix was more of a partner-in-crime in the most literal sense than a friend. But, of course, neither of them were right there. She could see Dorian, however, and Israel and his brother. Fighting off a small scowl as she took her seat, the vampire plucked an apple from the bowl and sat on the bench. What she would give for buckets of blood, right now . . . |
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Post by shock on Mar 12, 2011 11:24:30 GMT -5
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I am the prayers of the naive
and I control you
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I am the lie that you believe
and I control you
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Post by ZACHARIAH MORTIS on Mar 13, 2011 11:31:54 GMT -5
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I am the prayers of the naive
and I control you
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/i] to tell her about the letter he had received from him. His dad was a rather mysterious man, known first by his reputation and then his name. He was never really around much but, when he was there, Zach could remember marveling at the man and wishing to be more like him. His name was all but a curse word amongst the wizarding and vampire communities -- he was all but infamous, after all, for being a psychotic, murderous man who ran about turning a good number of people. Come on, how could you not want to be like that?! In any case, his mother was, of course, more than outraged at the fact that his father had had the audacity to contact him without first consulting her. As a matter of fact, this letter in particular seemed to be nothing more than a rant against his father filled with her swearing by the wizarding gods that she would do a vast number of rather illegal things against his father. Honestly, why did she bother writing this? Didn't she know that he would just crumple it up and feed it to the fire? After having done just that, Zachariah returned to his place in the windowsill and picked up his book. Flipping back to the page he was last on, he let out a small sigh as he reclined in his seat and attempted to return to reading. But, alas, it was just that -- an attempt. His pale gray eyes slid over the page, took in the words and pretty little pictures, but his mind just refused to make any sense of any of it. Instead, his mind seemed to be fixated on his father and, as per usual, blood. He could feel his throat burning just a little bit, now, at the thought of the latter. Despite have just had a pretty decent meal not all that long ago, he could feel the hunger creeping up on him once again. With an aggravated sigh and a shake of his head, he slammed the book shut and climbed to his feet. Setting the book on his bed for now, he began to make his way to the Slytherin common room -- surely there would be someone or thing to take his mind off of blood, for now? "Well, well, well! Look at what we've got here." Zachariah's dark voice all but sang, a French accent leaking through his words. He had just barely set foot into the room when the words had left him, having already spotted two familiar people -- Raziel Lestrange and Hale. Uh . . . what was Hale's first name, again . . . ? Qhuinn, that was it! Qhuinn Hale. Zach couldn't help but smile at the boy with different colored eyes. Oh yes, Zach knew him -- and he knew Zach. Although, Zachariah was willing to bet that Qhuinn and him probably wouldn't get along all that well. His father had already told him everything he knew about the boy -- namely the fucked up family. Now, why would his father have known any of this? Simple: he liked to know about the people he turned. Yes indeedy, Zach's father had turned Qhuinn. Based on what he had heard, however, Zach felt that the boy should be thankful -- hell, anyone should be thankful for the turn. It was a gift, to be something better than everyone else. "And how are you two gentlemen on this fine evening?" Zachariah all but purred, taking a seat on a vacant green chair not too far from where Raziel sat. His gray eyes flickered between both of his fellow housemates, a smile on his face as he waited eagerly for a response. He could just imagine the look on Qhuinn's face -- probably a mix between anger and shock. As for Raziel . . . well, it would be hard to say with him. Raziel was far from your average person, yet not quite so different as his brother Octavius. Hell, Zachariah and Octavius were about as thick as thieves! Zach thought he was a riot but, evidently, Raziel felt otherwise. Nonetheless, Zach did try his best to remain on good terms with either of the brothers -- not only were they interesting people and members of the Lestrange family, but they were also pretty damn powerful . . . they were a mix between vampire and werewolf, after all. Very few people were privy to that information, though. Of course, just because Zach didn't mind Raziel, that didn't necessarily mean that the elder Lestrange felt the same about him.[/font][/size][/ul] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I am the lie that you believe
and I control you
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Post by ROGUE JINX MOORE on Mar 20, 2011 11:09:51 GMT -5
Everybody r u n,
to cauterize the pain
This evil has a name [/font][/size][/ul][/ul] H e l l behind the s u n,
we consecrate the blame
So evil has a name |
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Post by ROGUE JINX MOORE on Mar 20, 2011 12:11:08 GMT -5
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Would you mind if I hurt you?
Understand that I need to
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Would you mind if I killed you?
Would you mind if I tried to?
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