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F.A.Q. ♦ RULES ♦ PLOT ♦ FACE CLAIM ♦ CANON SPECIFICS ♦ BIO FORMAT ♦ CANONS ♦ DEATH TO MARY SUE! ♦ BELIEFS ♦ EVENTS |
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JOLY Technicolor-Werewolf SISTER SITES  
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| Ghoul and Goose; dans les rues de Paris | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 22 2009, 11:22 AM (378 Views) | |
| Elise | Oct 13 2009, 11:05 PM Post #41 |
 
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"That's good. Do you work, Alex?" he asked, although really the answer should have been obvious. Perhaps it was an incident involving a piece of machinery, a dislocated sawblade of sorts, or a clumsy scythe... he moaned internally with pity, forcing himself not to ask. It could wait a few more moments, just a little longer. How many men would sit still for examination from a man who walked up to you in the middle of the night on a cold, abandoned street? Antoine cleared his throat a bit and offered his hand. "We had best start walking, before it becomes too late." he said gently. He didn't know the hour nor did he particularly care. He wanted to be at home, in his own bed, and had no doubt that that was where the boy wanted to be as well. |
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| Skazka | Oct 15 2009, 12:32 PM Post #42 |
all the ships go down/following the sound
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"I shouldn't think it's your business, sir," he answered tartly and too soon, with a little worm of regret eating at him. Soldiers and sailors, or would he say actor again? Never again. He worked, yes. Tried whatever had come his way, honest work, tried his hand, gotten out, and been drawn back into the mire again, a seal with stolen skin, drawn down by wires. Alexis cast coy looks in his temporary customer's direction, what would have been much more seductive had both eyes been intact. Reaching for his hand again, setting off more insistently down some twisting dark way, a familiar street rendered unfamiliar. Letting himself draw closer in the dark, for warmth or for protection. His voice dropped to a more private volume. "It won't be far now." |
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| Elise | Nov 2 2009, 08:27 PM Post #43 |
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"I'm sorry... no, you're right, it isn't... I didn't mean to intrude..." he said apologetically, following the boy down an alley. To be honest, and the good must always be honest, he had no idea where the boy was leading him. The boy led him further and deeper into the belly of the hydra that Paris became after nightfall. And the boy kept... looking. Glancing backwards. It was enough to tempt him to say 'I won't stab you, I promise' but it seemed out of place to mention such things. "I'm not sure I'll be able to find my way out of here..." he said with a forced half-chuckle, making as light of the situation as possible without totally detracting from its seriousness. Paris was dangerous at night. |
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| Skazka | Nov 11 2009, 09:16 PM Post #44 |
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all the ships go down/following the sound
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Like a dutiful little linkboy, he kept a hand on this stranger's elbow, at last finding a doorway down a suitably shuttered bit of alley. Recessed, stone around the door, one of those deep and forgotten places in this ogre city's guts where... where a body could get some rest, really. His hand felt for his little knife. Peering up solicitously into the man's face, he cocked his head a bit. Seeing half the world through a heavy curtain was bad enough, with only the odd bit of red light sifting through. He looked a bit like a drunken sparrow, trying to focus a beady black eye on a passing housecat. Tissot pressed a little closer, in a way, to him at least, suggestive. Sending nonexistent skirts in a tide against good monsieur's legs, a draft of the sticky scent of blood and whatever he'd been drinking as good as any fine perfume. "Do you have a wife, Antoine?" |
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| Elise | Nov 13 2009, 10:29 AM Post #45 |
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The question surprised him, and made his eyes widen. Why did it matter? And had they arrived at his home and in the name of Dieu, where was he? He backed away from the boy, something unnerving and threatening in his demeanour that repulsed him and yet drove him to pity. What had this boy suffered in his life? What had happened to his eye? Why in hell was he in this alley and what had he been thinking when he had spoken to this boy at all? What would Enjolras say to him? Some well-delivered chunk of rhetoric, a long discussion on the cruelty of the government through its indifference... but that seemed out of place, and he was not Enjolras. That was obvious. "Non... why?" he said, taking yet another precautionary step backwards. Something was wrong here, and he wasn't sure what it was yet. |
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