Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Close proximity did not allow for Aida to escape. She clung to the taller man, not out of want, but necessity, as he held her so close. “That isn’t possible.” She quickly replied, however, realizing it had come out too harshly, the feline quickly continued. “Ah, no, I’m sorry, that came out rude. I um, I travel. I’m never in one place for long. It’s um, a financial thing, you see.” Aida explained, tracing the hem of Edgar’s jacket.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Edgar Anapello on Nov 29, 2016 7:05:24 GMT
Edgar didn’t react to her words at first, the gears turning in his mind instead. Travel, didn’t stay in one place, financial trouble, on top of being snippy about it. He wasn’t born yesterday, those things were all calling signs for a rather unfortunate situation.
Frowning, he slowly released her, but went to grab her hand instead, if she would let him. “You’re homeless, aren’t you?” he asked in a quiet voice, eyes laced with concern as they watched her face, looking for her reaction, for the truth behind the words he spoke to her.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
He let her go. That was enough of a sign for Aida to leave. And she would have. The blonde was in the middle of turning away, but, he grabbed her hand— drew her, no, pulled her back. Made her look into his eyes, spoke with such clarity that she herself had been ashamed to admit, amongst all the other shameful things she hid kept, but, he had it all so sweetly. Gazing downward, she didn’t speak. She didn’t deny it, or accept it, but merely glanced away, hoping that that was enough of an answer for him.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
No answer, a turn away. She was ashamed of it, he could tell. Edgar pressed his lips for a moment, otherwise unmoving, thinking. And then, he slowly pulled her closer, hugging her gently, petting her hair with the hand that wasn’t holding her. “You can stay with me,” he said at last, making up his mind. He wasn’t sure if she would accept, but he could hope. A roof would be better than the streets, at the very least. His place wasn’t huge, but there was a spare room she could use as a bedroom, if she didn’t want to stay in his, at least. And he had plenty of money to spare for her. But, none of that would matter if she rejected the offer.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Space returned to zero as Edgar claimed her once more, and Aida listened to his body. To the beat of its drum, and at last, the vibration of his voice as he spoke to her. “I… that’s too much for me to ask of you.” Aida confessed, biting her lip. Too much, let alone, too risky.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
“I have an extra room. You could stay in there if you prefer. And you don’t have to worry about money, at least not right away. You don’t have to accept, but it’d be better than the street or a dusty old couch somewhere. And I’m sure you can’t stay with your friends forever.” He drew back from her slightly, looking at her face, touching it with his hands at he tried to look into her eyes, despite them being away from him. “And,” he began again, trying to get her attention. “It would make me very happy.”
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
The words tugged on Aida’s brain, their possibility, weighing on her senses. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. An extra room promised privacy, and so fear of secrets being known would not be as large. Yes, it was a problem still, but not as large as the current one at hand. Glancing upward, she met his dark pools, their depth, drawing her in as always. She smiled, a sigh, interlaced on her lips as she leaned forward, resting her cheek against his chest. “Alright. Just… let me help with something around the house. I have some money, but not enough to warrant rent, but hopefully that will change. After all, business is picking up.” The elder feline laughed, yet, her eyes softened as once more, she leaned against him, her breath melding with Edgar’s own. “And, it would make me happy as well. Being so…close to you.” The blonde murmured, taking a step closer, if that was even possible as their bodies were already so entwined, arms, around each other, as if the air between them was sacred and not meant to be shared with anyone but themselves.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Stroking her hair, he smiled, feeling accomplished in the moment. “You can help out around my barber shop. And around the house too, if you want. But not right away, not until after you’re comfortable there. I’m afraid I don’t have an extra bed on hand; I’ve never expected guests in the past. But you can stay in my bed tonight. I have some things I can tend to while you get settled and I’ll sleep in the other room. Tomorrow I can order a new bed. And after it arrives, if you still want to stay, I can get a key made for you and take care of everything else as well.” He explained everything in an even tone, rambling a bit as he thought of things while speaking.
Smiling wider, he released a soft hum of happiness. “The closeness will be nice, too. But I know women need space at times. So, please, don’t feel pressured to be too close, so to say. Just settle in, get comfortable, and let things happen naturally between us.”
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Friction against her scalp made her smile, although the feeling was distant, as the hair itself wasn’t real. None of this was. No— correction, her feelings were real. But how could they be truly real, when everything was built on lies? Nodding, the dancer felt the vibrations of the words through his chest, letting the words form in her mind as she spoke. “You are too kind.” Aida sighed, though , her face was caught in uncertainty. She needed space. That was true, but, as a women? If only that was truly the case. Maybe if it was, the feline would not feel as bad as she did. “Thank you, for everything. Truly. You are my angel of song.” Closing her eyes somewhat, the elder woman hugged the man, holding on tightly as if breaking away would shatter this moment, because, maybe it would. After all. Secrets couldn’t be kept forever.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Edgar Anapello on Dec 12, 2016 9:20:35 GMT
“It’s the least I can do after how happy you’ve made me.” There was more he was going to say, but the words caught in his throat. It was poor faith to confess things of past relationships, yet there was always a slight wanting to, in hopes it would mean there wouldn’t be any repeats. But it was better not to worry on that now. “Would you like to head there now? Or was there more you wanted to do up here, in the rafter?” he inquired softly. There was no reason to hold a harsh tone now.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
Leaning back some, Aida’s eyes scanned Edgar’s body, from the ruffled shirt to the wrinkled pants, and the elder feline hummed as she traced her finger up and down his chest. “It depends. Is there anything else more you would like to…. Experience in these rafters?” The blonde purred, fingers tightening around one of the buttons on his shirt, only to loosen as she smiled gently. “Though, I think a home would be nice. After all, there will be more time and places for this sort of thing there, hmmm?” The woman stated, leaning away some to look across the mess, of which, they would have to tidy up some. Throwing it into a portal would be sufficient enough, she figured, once they were untangled.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Edgar Anapello on Dec 19, 2016 3:01:16 GMT
Grinning, the hand on her hair looped around to hold her face. He was tempted to draw her in for a kiss, but decided against it, for now at least. “Perhaps home would be better. While privacy isn’t needed, it is appreciated at times.” Stepping back, he released her from his grasp and allowed her to turn to the mess on the floor. He offered help where he could, but there was only so much that could be done in the close proximity. As they finished taking care of things, he smiled and followed her out of the building and back to the street he had come from.
The walk to his home was pleasant as he held her arm, talking about light things such as the play and other works of poetry the two of them knew, or didn’t know at times. At least the walk wasn’t long and soon they arrived at his place. Retrieving the key from his pockets, he unlocked the front door and led her inside. The shop was quiet at the moment; all the tools put away and everything left neat. He walked past the counter without blinking an eye and ascended the staircase to where he actually lived. It led up into the kitchen and from there was a small hallway with doors on either side. Two on the right, one on the left. If Aida investigated, she would find that the door on the left was Edgar’s bedroom while the ones on the right were the spare room (currently housing a bookshelf, desk, and plush chair) and the bathroom. A trained eye would be able to recognize that the upper level was about twice as large as the shop below.
He showed her to the bedroom and welcomed her to get comfortable, mentioning that he would be out running errands for the evening. Which was exactly what he did after he stopped by the back room of his residence. He picked up a few orders for people and was heading out to deliver them; a service he had been forced to start providing as the curfew continued to steal his funds. He didn’t return until late at night, making sure he was out long enough to be so tired as to fall asleep in the chair. Which he did, and in the morning he was happy to greet Aida anew.
Living with her took some time to get used to, but he managed it. It was even easy given how well they got along together. Yet, there was always a sort of distance with her that he quite didn’t understand. She was accepting of some actions, yet repelled other. Such as sharing a bed together, if only for one night. She was also very protective of her body; a normal thing in public, yet in the privacy of the home? As the days ticked on, he began to grow frustrated. Why was she denying him so much; even after he had welcomed her into his home. He didn’t understand it, yet he also didn’t know how to address it. At least she was out at the moment, leaving him to sit in the kitchen (the room with the most light) as he read a book. Perhaps it could offer some insight on the situation.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
How caring, how kind, he was. If only Aida could be so equally giving. The only thing she could give were sweet words, sometimes, amusing, often times, gentle, and Edgar, he guided her. Took her in, led her to his room where he left her to gaze in the mirror, the rustling of his body mere echoes as he descended into “errands.” Fingers traced the door nob, the click of the lock, a peaceful sound as the elder woman sighed, tracing her fingers through her hair, feeling the cold of the clips that bound it to her real golden locks, and the truth that lay underneath. “Aida, what are you doing?” She questioned, taking apart her jewelry, her hair, her everything, exposing layer after layer, “This is insane, you know that,” to the man that lay dormant underneath.
Sayvahn stared at himself in the mirror. At the smeared lipstick, and hair, beaded with sweat, his cheeks, pale yet flushed—dizziness mixed with weariness in his resting mask. He tried to wipe it all away. The sweat, the makeup, the age, the everything, yet, it wouldn’t come off. Not fully. No matter how much he scrubbed, how much he pulled. Not even the smile that clung to his lips would leave him, because god, he was happy, but that was the problem. Edgar was being so kind. Too kind. And Sayvahn, he was just lying to him. And now, he was exploiting him. “God, I’m a fool.” The older man groaned, fingers digging into lose locks as he burrowed into himself, the lipstick still smeared, unwilling to come off, but not able to be on either. That was the fact of the matter, wasn’t it? Him, being stuck between the two. But, no one could deny what—no—, who he was, even if he himself tried so hard to. After all. His heart may be that of a woman, but his body, it was far from it.
Yet, Edgar made him happy. Something that the blonde hadn’t felt so long. Not ever since the fox hid in his burrow, and Sayvahn was burned in his. But happiness came at a cost, and the dancer paid for it in secrets—corrosive secrets, their weight, ever pulling, ever ripping. Too many times Edgar asked for him, no, asked for Aida, with open arms, his bed, ready for them both and not just one. Aida wanted to melt with him. Wanted to join with him, their sighs, to interlace just like their bodies, but, she couldn’t. Not with the secrets that she kept. And so, she avoided him. Kept near him, loved him, but, she clung to the sanctuary of her room, retreating behind half true excuses. “Sorry, I’m not ready,” “I have a recital,” “I’m tired.” Excuses could only go on for so long though. Especially when they tore into a dam that was already so unstable. Even now, as the elder woman stood near the doorframe of his shop, she could feel his stares, mixed with inevitable anger, staring at her, asking her, “come to me” but knowing that she wouldn’t. After all, the younger feline must have known what she would say. Must have memorized all of her excuses by then, too. As of then, he took shelter behind his books in an attempt to ignore her, or at least, divert his attention from her. Yet, diversion, much like secrets, could only go on for so long before they too, broke.
Sighing, the elder woman entered the building, the heat, making the wig stick to the back of her neck. When it was colder, it was easier to wear the piece, but as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, so did the heat. By the time she reached the top stairs, she wondered if her makeup was alright, that her appeal, her appearance was in tact. Or at least, she hoped that Edgar wouldn’t be in to see her like this. Though, hope didn’t get her far as when she opened the door, she found him, again, immersed in his book, body, straight but with brow, furrowed in that annoyed glare of his. He was angry, or at least, he was bothered. By what, the elder women didn’t have to guess. “O-oh, Edgar. Hello. How are you?” The dancer inquired, taking a step forward, face averted some in an attempt to hide herself, less her makeup be ruined and her true self be revealed
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
He heard the door open downstairs and knew who it was. Knew by the footsteps, the tentative movements, the faint smell of perfume. She was slow coming up the stairs, and as she opened the door, he made an effort to try and finish the last couple lines on the page before he looked up, offering her a weak half-smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Afternoon, Aida. I’m doing well, thank you. Are you stopping by for a lunch break or were you hoping to get some rest before classes started?” he asked flatly, already turning his eyes back to the book in his hands. The first few days he would have gotten up to give her a hug, but now he saw no reason to. Not when she was going to run from him again, probably hiding in her bedroom before dashing out again. She was rarely present during the day, always having to practice or teach a class or something else she came up with. Whatever it was, it always left her tired by the evening. He understood the pattern well by now and he saw no reason why it would change today. Turning the page in his book, he half-listened for whatever excuse it would be today.
"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." -Paul Tournier
No hug. No motion, no anything. They had regressed to this. This lack of love, this lack of tenderness, and it made Aida’s heart clench. Well, it was to be expected. After all, she was pushing him away, but now, it seemed the push was mutual. Maybe even preferred. Maybe that is what love was. An act, at first, but when found out what each truly was, only meant to regress because who would want to act for an audience all so familiar with the routine? Slowing her movements, the elder feline’s eyes lingered on the ground, teeth, grazing over her lips as she bit them. “Um, more than that. Um, I, um, am free for the rest of the day. So, um, do you want to do something? Go outside perhaps? It’s hot, but it’s a beautiful day.” The dancer laughed, face, still hidden somewhat, relying on her hearing to give her some indication of what was going on, as anything else could spell trouble, could spell regret.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
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