Home to a variety of cultural backgrounds, Lamenolai is a citadel city with stone walls that encompass the whole city and stone 'guardians.' It is also home to the Headquarters of the Purines, an opposing organization to the Imperialists of Lambastia. (+2 Defense, +2 Fame)

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Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Flame » 09/10/2017 1:16 PM

Image
The bustle of the city as day turned to dusk was music to the ears. Neon signs flickered to life and the streets began to fill with the creatures of the night as the city awoke from its afternoon slumber, preparing for another long evening of both virtue and vice.

A woman in a form-fitting crimson dress wove her way through the growing crowds with more familiarity than one would expect from someone in her attire (and in stilettos, no less). She was fairly ornately dressed considering the company she currently found herself in, but at the same time, she moved with a confidence that seemed to deter most – although not all – unwanted attention. Ophelia was used to being in the spotlight though; considering her family’s stature within the business and science communities, she found herself under a critical gaze more often than she cared for. It was for that particular reason that she was out on the town alone tonight (having sloughed her more famous identity) as she was more often than she would admit to her loving - if unobservant, when it came to their daughter - parents.

Dark, sapphire blue eyes flickered from each brightly-lit storefront to the next, clearly seeking something only she knew she was looking for. It took several long minutes of searching, but she finally came to a stop in front of an establishment which stood a little apart from the rest of the hustle and bustle, an upscale bar by the name of Forge that was more decadently outfitted than its more plebian counterparts. Seeming satisfied with what she saw, she breezed by the doormen at the entrance (after all, her attire and composure was enough to get her almost anywhere), entering a spacious, decidedly mood-lit bar. An initial, cursory glance showed that most of the clientele here was dressed similarly to herself, and to her satisfaction, she also noted that they were mostly male. The perfect setting to carry out her plan for the evening.

Approaching the bar, she slid into an open seat next to a well-dressed, middle-aged gentleman who was sitting alone. Judging by the faintly lighter tone of skin around his fourth finger, she had picked her target well. “An old-fashioned, please, on the rocks.” As she waited for the bartender to deliver her drink of choice, she turned a casual, yet decidedly coquettish smile upon the man seated beside her. It certainly didn’t hurt that his eyes were already upon her, and her inviting smile was enough to spur him to conversation. Within just a few moments, Ophelia and Mark were on first name terms, and by the time her drink arrived, they were well-engaged in conversation.

“So, Miss...Ophelia,” there was a hint of a question behind the title as he very evidently fished for her marital status. A small smile and nod from her were enough to bolster his confidence once again, and he continued on. “What brings you here? Are you waiting on someone to arrive, perhaps?” Ophelia’s answering laugh was the tinkle of icicles on winter glass. “No, I’m afraid not. Can’t a girl just go out on her own for a drink on a lovely night like this? We’re more independent than you might think, you know.” The wink she cast in his direction showed that she was joking, but she was fairly certain by this point that she’d managed to reel her quarry in enough to make her play.

There were a few more minutes of flirtatious banter before she finally made her move, all the while seamlessly integrating it into their current topic of conversation. “What do I do for fun? Well, I dabble with painting, yoga, interior decoration…” All of the things a wealthy man might want to hear from a young woman. “But my passion is really for charity work – I run a foundation that funds the Children’s All Saints Hospital.” And there was the set-up. With any luck, the decidedly wealthy man would deign to pull out his checkbook in an effort to impress his new lady-friend, and when he wrote it out, the acronym for Ophelia’s fictitious hospital would spell out ‘C.A.S.H.’. Considering this was her first attempt at a con (and a relatively innocent one, at that), all she could do was wait with baited breath and see how it turned out.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Kallile » 09/10/2017 9:46 PM

Image

The Forge had never really been Tovin's cup of tea, but much to his dismay it did happen to be the cup from which several of his father's wealthy clients tended to drink. He would much rather be back in the Slums hounding rent money or scaring up those who were trying to outrun his father's shadow. There his attire mattered little and everyone already knew the face of the 'Chosen Son'. Here attire was everything.

His face crinkled slightly as he thought the nickname to himself. He absentmindedly rolled the gold button of his heather grey vest between his fingers while he studied the bottom of his empty mug with a sullen expression. Somewhere along the way he'd ditched the blazer that was to be the third component to his three-piece-suit, leaving him with heather grey pressed trousers and vest with a dark plum purple tie held in place with an ornate looking golden clip. Here he was out of his element to a degree--he had to wait at his target's most likely haunt rather than go on a more forward hunt. He didn't like stalking-- he much preferred to be the one in control when it came to the company his father Quil'lian kept.

The music droned on in the back of his mind while he stared down into the glass abyss until he caught a certain figure out of the corner of his eye. She was pretty--almost too pretty to be here-- and dressed well pasted the nines. He furrowed an eyebrow as she took up with a lone gentleman at the bar and Tovin lost interest in favor of flagging down a waiter to bring him another bourbon. But he couldn't stop his gaze from flickering back to the well-dressed woman in red and her chosen companion as they talked. There was a feeling of unease in his gut about the whole thing and before long he found himself on his feet, drink in hand, making his way closer to the bar.

They were talking and laughing like old friends would, and Tovin shook his head and prepared to walk away. This was nonsense, he was just bored and transplanting the fact that this woman was about his sisters' ages onto the situation. The man with whom she spoke didn't raise any red flags in his mind either... and besides that he was here to do a job and...

“But my passion is really for charity work – I run a foundation that funds the Children’s All Saints Hospital.”

Tovin froze and looked back over his shoulder to the pair. He'd heard so many lines like that in his lifetime, all different charities that didn't exist but the bait was always the same. The way she spoke, the utter ease with which she was engaging this man...it was good but it had looked and sounded all wrong from the beginning. She spoke too easily and too freely, no matter how much was truth versus lie. There was a moment of pause and he mulled over his options, his eyes scanning the room one last time for his true target. Still not here, he noted, then he had time to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand; in this of all bars.

"Pardon, but I couldn't help overhearing. Children's All Saints Hospital?" he said casually as he swirled his amber drink around its glass. He inched closer, alluding to true interest though he could smell her scam a mile away. "They gave my nephew the absolute best care, it is such an honor to meet the lady who works so hard to make it happen in person."

He held out a hand to shake hers, though behind his warm and inviting smile rested fierce ruby eyes that stared straight at Ophelia, willing her to cave and leave things as they stood.
"I have been hidden, scorned, adored, worshiped, forsaken, coveted and banished more times than I care to count. But the one thing all those experiences cannot steal from me is the gentle soul I was born with, the kind heart I have molded, and the bright ideals for the future that have lit my way through the darkness of the past."




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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Flame » 09/14/2017 4:58 PM

Ophelia kept up her façade of charm, laughing at her companion’s jokes even when they weren’t funny, but also being careful not to give away too much either. She even made a point of dulling her natural wit – after all, in her past experiences, men didn’t particularly like being shown up by a woman, and there was no need to give him any more clues as to what her true identity was. Still, the banter came easily to her; a lifetime spent amongst the best minds in the field of genetics meant that she was expected to keep up with the company her parents kept from a young age, so small talk came easily to her.

Just when she thought that she had the cat in the bag (she was fairly certain that Mark would be reaching for his checkbook soon), the sound of an unfamiliar voice caught her attention, breaking her focus on her target for a moment. Ophelia was surprised to see that a well-dressed young man had approached the two of them at the bar, and was indeed addressing them. Her brow furrowed microscopically as she studied him mildly from over her shoulder, uncertain as to what his motives were. After all, she had been under the impression that social norm dictated that a man couldn’t interfere with another man’s quarry after a certain length of time. The “bro code”, or whatever it was that men her age were calling it these days.

However, her polite curiosity quickly froze into what felt like a solid block of ice in her gut as the man spoke, his tone casual and entirely conversational in nature. He never missed a single beat as he spoke of the fictitious hospital which Ophelia had fabricated mere moments ago, singing its praises as if he were truly familiar with the nonexistent establishment. Her first thought was that perhaps her luck had run dry, and that she’d created a name which was synonymous with a children’s hospital that actually existed. Her mind raced to find her next move, jumping five steps ahead into each potential scenario before moving on to the next. Perhaps she could play along, and perhaps her con might still work out the way it was supposed to – after all, having a complete stranger vouch for your fictional hospital probably looked good in Mark’s eyes.

The other possibility she had to consider though was that the newcomer smelled her scam from a mile away. That was the scenario that sent an unseen shiver of apprehension up her spine. At the same time though, if he really had seen through her ruse, why would he be helping her? Her mind churned furiously, and while the notion of being caught scared her (what would her parents say, and how would the media portray her besmirchment of the family name?), it also somehow sent a thrill of breathless anticipation through her as well. If this latter possibility held true, then she was currently in the presence of someone much more familiar than her with the game which she dabbled in, and part of her almost hoped to see how this scenario would play out.

While all of this turmoil crashed through her thoughts, she somehow managed to maintain her cool, charming exterior in spite of it. There was only one way to find out the truth behind this newcomer’s motives, and Ophelia wasn’t about to spoil the game by making the rookie mistake of giving herself away. “You have no idea how much joy it brings to my heart to hear that. I hope that your nephew made a full and speedy recovery.” The practiced smile which she flashed in the man’s direction was warm and almost luminous in nature as she turned in her seat to let him into the small circle. The handshake she returned was surprisingly firm, hinting at the fact that she knew more of what was happening than she let on. This new development clearly didn’t sit all too well with Mark, who clearly saw this intrusion as an uncouth play on the newcomer’s part to try and steal Ophelia’s attentions away.

“And you are…?” The middle-aged gentleman’s question had a bite of irritation to its tone, and he may well have had more to say had he not thought that it would look impolite in front of a lady. In the meantime, Ophelia held Tovin’s gaze unflinchingly, sapphire eyes twinkling with thinly-veiled curiosity over the smile that lingered on her lips. After all, it was in her best interest to ensure that these gentlemen played nice; perhaps she would walk away from this bar tonight with more than simply the experience (and monetary gain) that she had been looking for when she’d entered.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Kallile » 09/20/2017 10:16 AM

The violation of the 'bro code' was certainly in full effect and Tovin was well aware of that. Though while he didn't intend to steal away this young lady for himself he did mean to steal her away from this place in general so in the other man's eyes he was sure it looked to be the same thing. He couldn't readily name drop here either--though he'd never seen this particular man at any of his father's establishments word traveled fast. He was already taking a big enough risk just coming over here to interfere with their evening. It would take a great deal of finesse not to give himself or his true motives away.

He'd been listening to the room behind him the entire time, taking his focus back to the duo in front of him only when they spoke. His mind churned up a plan, and he could only hope that it would work out in his favor. Her handshake did surprise him a little--for appearing so green the way she was going about this she certainly was able to keep her head about her as the game changed. He tilted his head ever so slightly in mild amusement at this.

"He certainly has, poor kid. He's been through the ringer for only being four years old,
but he's a trooper. Getting better every day."
He then turned his eye to the very unhappy Mark with a somewhat sheepish smile as if he were truly just a fanboy meeting a hero for the first time.

"Ah, yes, I've barged in on your evening. I'm sorry, I was just leaving a co-worker's bachelor party on the upper floor and couldn't help myself from overhearing on my way out. They're a wild group, that lot...I think I've had my share of fun for the night. My own little lady will be happy to have me home early anyway."

Indeed from the upper floor in one of the booths there was a rather rowdy group laughing and sloshing drinks around as they heartily toasted to whatever it was they were really celebrating. He set the bait with a mention of a girl of his own--openly and freely to take away the predatory feel from his sudden intrusion. It might work all the more in his favor as he set the trap: "Might I borrow her just a moment? My checkbook is in my coat at check in I'm afraid...and if the boys see me milling around down here then I can't promise they won't make their way down too. I'd love to offer a donation on behalf of my ever-grateful family in my nephews name."

No man wanted one intruder around, let alone a whole drunken mob when you were trying to seal the deal with a pretty young lady. It might make his plea all the more tempting to accept and be done with. Two birds with one stone really, if Mark were a thinking man. He'd come off a hero for letting her accept another donation for her cause and he'd be rid of one pest and avoid a whole group of them. Win-win. Tovin kept his more sheepish, harmless appearance as he looked rather pleadingly at the older man.
"I have been hidden, scorned, adored, worshiped, forsaken, coveted and banished more times than I care to count. But the one thing all those experiences cannot steal from me is the gentle soul I was born with, the kind heart I have molded, and the bright ideals for the future that have lit my way through the darkness of the past."




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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Flame » 09/21/2017 4:48 PM

Ophelia’s practiced smile remained firmly in place as she studied Tovin, still straining to get a read on his true intentions. It was beyond a shadow of a doubt now that he had his own ulterior motives here, but the longer they conversed, the more convoluted the situation seemed to become. Despite how subtle she was trying to be, Mark seemed to have picked up on the young woman’s veiled interest in the newcomer, which seemed to fuel his frustration and desperation. How frustrating it must have been to have meticulously courted someone for the better part of half an hour, only to have their attentions stolen away by a younger model who didn’t even seem to be trying at it.

The young woman noticed the minute change in the atmosphere, and deftly moved to reassure her original companion of his value (or at least the value she wanted him to perceive). Widening her smile, she reached over to casually touch his arm, a feather-light brush that just barely hinted at being flirtatious, her voice sweet as she addressed him. “I have something of a weak spot for children; no person should have to witness - let alone go through - that kind of suffering at that age, and I want to do anything I can to help. It’s always nice to hear from someone else that the work I’m doing is making a difference.” That seemed to mollify Mark, but only marginally. If anything, it seemed like the physical aspect of the exchange had the greatest effect, but still, he eyeballed Tovin the way one might study a coiled viper.

It didn’t go unnoticed that the stranger conveniently skirted around Mark’s question, at least, not in Ophelia’s eyes. If anything, that told her that this man had something of his own to hide, and she was intrigued as to what that was. If he was going to meddle in affairs that weren’t his own, it was only fair that he give up a secret or two of his own as well in return. She had to keep her eyebrows from raising at his excuse for being here at this particular venue though – she hadn’t been watching closely, but from her seat, she had a decent view of the stairway that lead to the second floor lounge, and she was relatively certain that she never saw this man descend from amidst the rowdy bunch that currently inhabited it. She bit her tongue though – for now, it was in her best interest to gather as much information as she could about this man (which, to his credit, was not much) and pocket it for future reference.

“Oh, I suppose that would be alright, but only if it’s quick. And if Mark here doesn’t mind, of course.” She was somewhat surprised (and perhaps a little wary) of the man’s invitation to join him, and his mention of another woman somehow only further raised her own suspicions, even if they seemed to assuage her original companion to a certain degree. “Sure, but I’d like her back as soon as possible. We were just in the midst of a scintillating discussion when you arrived. I’d hate to leave that conversation hanging.” The consent was only given as if his arm was twisted behind his back, but Mark gave it anyways, doing his best to sound gracious about it.

Ophelia flashed a grateful smile at the middle-aged man as she turned to get up out of her seat. She allowed him to offer her a hand as she rose, her fingers lingering on his just for a brief moment before she turned to accompany Tovin away from the bar. That would hopefully be promise enough to hold Mark captive at the bar while she figured out what this new character was up to. Plus, should something befall her while she was in the newcomer’s keeping, she knew that there would be at least one person looking for her, even if he didn’t know her true identity. This game was just beginning to get interesting, and she was now fully invested and intent on seeing how it would play out.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Kallile » 09/23/2017 7:37 PM

Tovin gave a gracious nod as the man gave into his request. It made things easier that way...and few here would be too quick to go looking for the young lady if they saw her leaving with him. If his plan went accordingly he could whisk her out of here without question and send her back to whatever gated community or mansion she had come from. He declined offering Ophelia his arm, feeling it would only lead Mark to follow them, and instead continued talking of her imaginary humanitarian work.

"I, myself, didn't realize what a great need there was for such fundraisers such as yours until a member of my own family was in need of your services. It truly is amazing, the work that you do..." It might have sounded praising, but to Ophelia it may come off as a bit biting. Clearly he was remarking on her silver tongue rather than her actual con. As they approached the coat check he waved away the attendant and took a step into the room, looking over his shoulder to make sure Ophelia was moving with him.

He reached out for a heather grey jacket matching his attire and slipped it on as if to prove it truly was his and reached into the inner breast pocket to produce a checkbook. Perhaps now he had her entranced enough that her con had worked on two people, that she might just receive a double payday. He grabbed a pin from the same pocket, opened the book, and tapped the end of the pen to his tongue as he began to write. "So then, tell me Miss..."

Should Ophelia have not been within a comfortable reach, Tovin's arm was ready to reach out and pull her in with strength surprising for his size. Should she have become a bit too comfortable and gotten in close to see what amount she'd be collecting, she'd find Tovin ready to push her into the coats, blocking the exit from her.

"How much, exactly, were you hoping to make tonight? Because I can promise you there is no amount great enough for the location you've chosen. Do you have any idea the establishment you're standing in? Any idea how it came to be and whom the eyes all around us belong to? Because if you had so much of an inkling as to where you are right now, doing what you're trying to do, you're either quite stupid or quite arrogant." He hissed into her ear. His head was angled just slightly so that to any bystander outside it might look as though the couple were simply sharing a passionate kiss and raise no further questions. His crimson gaze was fixed to hers--daring her to tell him he was overreacting, daring her to tell him that she knew exactly where she was.
"I have been hidden, scorned, adored, worshiped, forsaken, coveted and banished more times than I care to count. But the one thing all those experiences cannot steal from me is the gentle soul I was born with, the kind heart I have molded, and the bright ideals for the future that have lit my way through the darkness of the past."




.::.Pen.::.Sales.::.Wishes.::.
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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Flame » 09/27/2017 5:17 PM

Ophelia maintained her feminine air of grace (and an uncharacteristic hint of flirtiness) as she let herself be led away by this new gentleman. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, let alone explain it, but she felt the slightest hint of unease as they left the highly-populated main lounge to make their way towards the coat check. The man seemed innocuous enough at face value, but she knew better than to take him at it. Sometimes, those who seemed the least threatening were the most dangerous. Her gut told her that there was more to this stranger than just a loaded bank account and a loose checkbook.

“Well, it’s just a small part of a much larger picture,” Ophelia replied with feigned humility to Tovin’s comment about her work. “After all, it’s just a drop in the bucket when you consider the number of other causes that are just as worthy out there as well. If even just a few people were more willing to spread their wealth, it could do a world of good for the rest of society.” That, she spoke from the heart. As someone who had been raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, she was painfully aware of the schism between the wealthy and the poor, and had she figured out a way to leverage her family’s money to balance the scales, she would have done so by now. However, all the power within the company lay with her parents, and as such, she could do little from within the restrictive framework which she had been raised in to change anything – not without potentially bringing harm to her family along the way.

So, she had begun frequenting places like this, skimming the surface of a world within which she felt as if she possessed some kind of control of her life and her choices. That, paired with a desire for excitement and to feel alive, made for a somewhat reckless combination, which Tovin had clearly seen at first glance. That was also why she continued to follow him, even after her instincts had started throwing up red flags. For a brief moment as the man pulled a jacket from the coat check, Ophelia thought that perhaps the fates were in her favor, especially when he proceeded to produce a checkbook from an interior pocket. She lingered in the doorway as he went through the gestures, sure that he would exit once he’d found his coat, only to find herself suddenly (and somewhat unceremoniously) dragged in with him into the enclosed space.

She just barely bit back a startled scream as she fell, although a muffled sound of surprise did escape her lips as she collided back-first into the rack of coats, the wall behind it catching her fall as she all but vanished into the forest of clothing. Her eyes flashed a mixture of anger and surprise as the man closed in on her, astonished at his audacity, especially when she knew they might be spotted at any given moment. That didn’t seem to faze him though – instead, he opted to delve deeper into the illusion he was creating, and had Ophelia not been furious at the given moment, she might have applauded his performance.

Every muscle in her body was tensed, prepared to retaliate should Tovin press his physical advantage, but it became quickly evident that he didn’t mean her physical harm – not presently, at least – despite the menacing manner in which he loomed over her. It was suddenly starkly evident how much stronger he was than her, but despite the fact that they both knew he could toss her around like a ragdoll should he so choose, her anger and pride figuratively spat in the face of his obvious advantage.

“So, I take it you won’t be contributing to the worthy cause after all?” Her tone was surprisingly cool as she flashed back her sardonic retort, and she surprised even herself with the amount of composure she’d managed to cling to. Even so, her sapphire eyes blazed with defiant wrath in stark contrast against her carefully controlled expression. “And who are you to dictate where anyone goes, or what they choose to do with their own time? I have just as much right to be here as you, so unless you own this establishment, I strongly suggest that you find a weaker-willed victim to harass. Unlike you, some of us have dates to get back to.”
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Kallile » 10/01/2017 8:53 PM

Tovin kept his eyes locked on her, menacing but somehow without the full threat of violence one would expect to accompany a 'menacing' look. She was surprisingly strong of will--most would have melted into blubbering puddles of mascara and despair by this point. But she stood firm against her foe with biting words and an equally knife-like gaze. The man, however, couldn't help but chuckle a little darkly at her words. This wasn't his usual evening--playing the twisted knight in shining armor, but he had to scare her away somehow and that's how it was done, right?

"Oh, I'm contributing plenty to a worthy cause right now," he said darkly, continuing in low tones as he leaned in just a bit closer to be heard. He was well aware he was perfectly within range to catch a hearty slap in the face, but he'd take that chance. He at least had her too hung up in the coats for a punch to gain enough momentum to do any lasting damage. "Oh, but you only wish that I owned this place. Any idea why it's called the Forge, miss? Any at all?"

He paused a moment for dramatic effect, not really expecting her to have an answer. Even if she began to formulate one Tovin was quick to cut her off. "These are the streets the original gangsters, mobsters, black market lords and slave trader kings all got their start. Their empires were, quite literally, forged on the ground we stand on. This place is the collective hive of all types of villainy...with the friendly guise of an upscale club, of course. It's the best cover for all inner-market deals and the best place to let the underlings find new play things. Those on the ground floor may be safe enough but those above don't want any money slipping through their fingers. Especially not by some amateur stealing away money that could be spent on the other finer things this establishment could provide. You set off this little act of yours by getting lover boy to pay up and you will get all the attention you want from everyone you never want to meet."

He backed away from her then, without much further explanation, and adjusted the sleeves of his blazer as if nothing had happened. "And if that happens...with your looks I can safely say we'll see each other again. And if we have to meet like that, I won't be so kind as I am now. Go home where you belong and spare both you and your date the torment. I've got real business to attend to." Half past now, his quarry was sure to be arriving any minute. He could only hope that short of dragging her out of here like a barbaric caveman that his words would spark something in her mind that would turn into a wildfire that she couldn't help but run from.
"I have been hidden, scorned, adored, worshiped, forsaken, coveted and banished more times than I care to count. But the one thing all those experiences cannot steal from me is the gentle soul I was born with, the kind heart I have molded, and the bright ideals for the future that have lit my way through the darkness of the past."




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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Flame » 10/01/2017 10:48 PM

Ophelia was still having issues wrapping her head around this stranger’s sheer audacity. She’d known that men could be forward – uncouthly so – but this was an entirely different beast in and of itself. The man could have had his way as he pleased with her based on his superior stature alone, yet he seemed to be holding back for some unknown reason. She had to imagine that he had some sort of ulterior motive here, although what that might be remained shrouded in mystery, considering how far-flung it seemed when compared to the usual motivators (sex and money) that men generally operated by.

Luckily for Tovin, Ophelia considered herself above petty violence, especially when it was evidently clear that he only meant to intimidate her, and not physically harm her. After all, a slap or other physical retaliation was only going to increase the chances that she might not get out of her here unscathed after all. Of course, that said nothing for the acid side of her tongue. In spite of that, it seemed this man had now found some strange high horse to get up on and preach from, and she found herself having trouble fitting in a word edgewise as he spoke. As such, she resigned herself to stormy silence for the moment, although her eyes continued to cut like icy daggers as they conveyed her current displeasure.

So, it would seem that this man was harassing her out of some sort of twisted sense of chivalry, if she was hearing him correctly. His tone was menacing, but if anything, it seemed to be a cover to mask the true intent behind his words. A hint of perplexity seeped into her façade of cold wrath as Ophelia reevaluated her opponent (which was still how she considered him at this moment); he was a puzzle, if nothing else, and she was intent on cracking him before she went anywhere tonight. After all, this encounter was turning out to be infinitely more interesting than her flirtatious charade with the man at the bar, even if it was ultimately less profitable. It seemed Tovin’s words had sparked a flame in her mind alright, but definitely not in the fashion in which he had hoped.

“So, what I’m hearing is that I’m in the right place after all.” The twinkle in her sapphire eyes had now taken on a hint of devilishness as she held his gaze evenly, still staunchly unyielding as she stared him down. As he backed away, she righted herself as well, calmly smoothing the silken fabric of her form-fitting dress. “I’m no damsel in need of your rescue, as much as you’d like to cast me in that role.” A lock of dark hair which had broken free of its restraints during the struggle was primly tucked back into place as she spoke, Ophelia’s blatant lack of concern with her present company clearly evident as she took her eyes entirely off of him in favor of preening herself back to her usual pristine appearance instead.

“Now, as much as I’m sure you’d love to monopolize my time, I believe we both have more pressing matters to attend to than dallying the night away in this cozy little coat check.” As she spoke, she brushed by him, making her way back towards the bar where her ‘date’ still awaited her. If he’d really meant what he’d said earlier, she was certain that this wasn’t the last that she would be seeing of Tovin. “Who knows, maybe next time we meet, you’ll actually be able to seal the deal. Or perhaps next time, the tables will be turned. Who knows? But in the meantime, you’d best be getting back to that ‘little lady’ of yours, Party Boy.” With that final jab at his flimsy cover story, she sauntered back to the main lounge, sliding back into the barstool next to a visibly relieved Mark.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Kallile » 10/02/2017 8:38 AM

There was a hint of dismay in his eyes as the woman did nothing more than ready herself to go back out on the floor. As she brushed by him he more heavily contemplated grabbing a handful of those dark locks and dragging her out by force kicking and screaming. He could feel his blood boiling at her words--she was well spoken enough that she surely wasn't going to be that stupid. But she was, easily out of the coat check and back off towards her date. Tovin remained for another minute glowering to himself. She should be running from this place, especially if she was going to go through with her con.

The party he had indicated earlier was one not of celebration of marriage and the last days of 'freedom', but rather one of the larger mobs in the area celebrating new recruits. Tovin was well aware of the mobs history with his father--if they told those new recruits to go out and strengthen the business bond between their boss and his father, Ophelia would no doubt be picked off and then he would be seeing her again.

As he looked up he noted that his target had arrived and, as expected, with a date on his arm. Tovin's glowering deepened. He had had just about enough of interrupting dates tonight...but this time he would be heard. This time it was business and his father accepted nothing but ruthless excellence from him. This time, he had a target he could truly take his rage out on.

The pair slipped up the stairs and past the second bouncer and his ominous red velvet rope after a moment of chatting. The woman was small and petite like a piece of fine china, her white and silver gown only serving to further that image. She wore no smile, just looked straight ahead dutifully as she was lead along up the stairs. Tovin's target wasn't particularly as big as Tovin was, but he was a bit too muscled for his small stature and looked more ridiculous than menacing. He was Roman--a small time mob grunt, a regular at Quil'lian's little operation and a long time debt holder. His boss boss had given Quil'lian the green light to take him out if needed--the empire he belonged to wasn't about to pay up for his short comings. Seems, however, that he had found himself a new trafficker to go through, as Tovin didn't recognize the mail-ordered date on his arm. Perfect--all the more reason to be extra ruthless then. And just maybe he could actually save a girl from her fate this time.  

Tovin followed and the bouncer guarding the stairs raised the rope for him just upon his approach. He ghosted after the group, hanging back a little and sticking towards the darkest parts of the dimly lit upstairs balcony. The pair seated themselves and Roman noisily and boastfully began ordering drinks and food, dragging his small china-doll closer to him every time she tried to create some space between them. Tovin's red eyes watched them for several minutes that way, and as the server left to fulfill the order he made his move.

"See you've found yourself a pretty little number there, Roman," the larger man growled as he stepped from the shadows and placed himself in the booth beside Roman. The shorter man sputtered and let go of his ill-gotten prize, who quickly scooted away. Tovin's harsh glance fell to her. "Get out."

She walked at first in a quick pace, and as the stairs came into view she broke into a run, grabbing the attention of several ground-floor patrons as she fled. Roman glared at Tovin, his prize lost.

"Yer Pa hadn't got any new blood in for months, already had all'a his flavors," he said in hushed tones. Tovin slid closer and wrapped his arm around the man.

"Roman, Roman, Roman! There's no bad blood between you and I!" he said happily as he took the drink meant for the china doll and waved the server elsewhere. "I get it, you know. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that. Sample all the goods you like my friend!" As Roman went to grab his drink to ease up a bit, Tovin smacked it from his hand. It shattered on the floor, and Tovin drained the rest of his glass.

"There's just the one tiny problem about the amount of money you still haven't payed up for all your 'sampling'. We're not an all-you-can-get buffet, you know. So, Roman, are you going to give me my money, or am I going to have to take payment from that ugly carcass you call a body?"
"I have been hidden, scorned, adored, worshiped, forsaken, coveted and banished more times than I care to count. But the one thing all those experiences cannot steal from me is the gentle soul I was born with, the kind heart I have molded, and the bright ideals for the future that have lit my way through the darkness of the past."




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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Flame » 10/05/2017 3:52 PM

Ophelia was relieved to find that her ‘date’ was exactly where she had left him, although by the time she got back to her place at the bar, he was beginning to see a little antsy. She was relatively sure that had she been gone but a few minutes more, he probably would have come looking for her in person, assuming that she had been whisked away by the stranger who’d interrupted them. The relief showed visibly in his face as she slid back onto her barstool, his smile somewhat giddy, as if he really hadn’t been certain that he would see her again. Ophelia’s answering smile was reassuring as she lightly brushed his arm again, reaffirming the illusions she had planted in the man’s head to set his mind at ease once again.

“Thank you for waiting so graciously, Mark. The man simply wanted to make a donation to the hospital on behalf of his nephew’s family, and the money will certainly go a long way to ensure that other children get the same quality of treatment.” Her companion nodded, albeit slightly grudgingly (after all, he hated the idea of another man earning Ophelia’s good will right under his nose), but if anything, the tale only seemed to strengthen his resolve to ensure that her attention would no longer be stolen away tonight. She knew at this point that she had him (and his checkbook) on the ropes, but as a woman of class, she made sure not to rush the situation either simply in the interest of money. After all, this was good practice for her, and at this point, the cash was as good as in her bank already.

A minor commotion caught the couple’s attention as a young, somewhat fragile-looking woman came stumbling down the stairs from the second floor, clearly in a hurry to get away from whatever – or whomever – was up there. There was no clear culprit at first, seeing as she wasn’t pursued as she hastened towards the exit, but Ophelia’s sharp gaze soon caught sight of a familiar figure in a booth upstairs, seated next to what seemed like a gremlin of a man. Her eyes narrowed slightly; so much for leaving to see his girlfriend. And based on the mood that currently seemed to prevail upstairs, that was no bachelor party either (she’d seen enough of those to know). “Bachelor parties,” she scoffed off-handedly to Mark, turning back to him and drawing his attention away from the balcony and back to herself. “It’s probably a good thing that girl made her escape when she did.” Best to keep Mark’s nose off the scent for now – something about this situation seemed off.

Meanwhile, she kept Tovin’s booth in the periphery of her view, although she let her main focus return to making small talk with her date. After all, what that odd man upstairs did in his own time was none of her business, and seeing as it had nothing to do with her, she paid it little mind. She had just about forgotten about him entirely when the sound of shattering glass caught her attention, and she glanced up once again to see that Tovin’s companion was now conveniently without a drink, whilst the man himself now seemed to be subtly looming over the shorter one. She couldn’t quite make out what was being said, although she could hear the slightly raised voices over the background noise of the bar. Whatever was going on up there definitely wasn’t the most amicable situation, and she found herself somewhat surprised that the man was now taking out his anger on someone else. Perhaps he had an anger management situation, but again, that wasn’t her problem. Her attention still remained upon the man seated next to her, but she couldn’t help but keep a curious ear perked for the commotion unfolding upstairs.
.
... . . . . . . . . .Am I made of paper, 'cause I tear so easily?
Am I made of vapor, because I disappear?
Do I have to have a reason for anything I feel?
Just be glad I'm real, glad I'm real
Am I real?

Are you made of lead paint, a bulletproof Picasso?
All the virgin saints put you here to care for me
You don't need to sell me on anything at all
Just say what you mean and mean what you say to me

Did you ever see the waves break into a million pieces?
Or stay awake with someone who was dying?
You don't have to tell me anything at all
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..I'm just glad you're here, glad you're real
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Are you real?


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Re: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing [P]

Postby Kallile » 11/16/2017 10:25 PM

The general hush of the crowd soon rose back to a normal murmur of voices as the pair at the table in question sat silently. A bus boy was already on the job of cleaning up the broken glass and Tovin waved graciously to him and thanked him in tones only he, the bus boy, and Roman could hear. It seemed to be a jovial exchange on the parts of most involved--a silly slip of the hand of glass not fully dried perhaps. Most patrons allowed the incident to go without further question--for it's far easier to ignore such things than to get involved in an uncomfortable situation.

But as soon as the mess was cleaned and the kindly bus boy had gone, Tovin turned back to snickering darkly at Roman.

"Nice kid, he might go places one day. I'd hate to ruin his evening with cleaning up a bloody mess under the table...so why don't you just give me the due you owe my father and this whole ugly thing will be done with, hmm?"

Roman gulped and squirmed uncomfortably as Tovin reached over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders like one might do to a best friend, but in this case it was rather like the jaws of a steel trap springing closed.

"Look, I don't got yer money right now. I-I spent all of it on those legs you chased off tonight. You can go get it from her...then two for one right? You get yourself some money and a new girl--even stevens."

Tovin looked to the ceiling momentarily as if in deep consideration before he began speaking.

"What a novel idea, Roman! Why don't I hunt down a girl in a crowded night city, get a meager amount of money and start a war between her employer and my father! It does sound like quite the win for me, but you see..."

There was a muffled scream, the hand once resting on Roman's shoulder was now clamped over his mouth. Tovin's other hand was wrapped around Roman's fingers, crunching them slowly enough that he could feel each bone bend and snap individually as it happened. Roman's eyes began to water and he moved to bite Tovin's hand, but the larger man shushed him.

"Don't make a fuss, old man. You know exactly where you are in this building and you know exactly who's watching. So you'll sit here, and you'll take what's coming to you and you will hope, no,
praythat you won't find me waiting for you out in the alley after we're done here. You have one week to get me the money you owe, or I'll make sure I break every bone in your body this way. One at a time. Slowly."


With each sentence Tovin would squeeze a new direction and break a new bone, leaving Roman sitting and sobbing quietly into the palm of his hand. Just before he released his hand he gave one last twist that snapped Roman's wrist and gave a sickening 'crack' that could just faintly be heard over the low rumble of voices in the room. Roman pushed against his hand and screamed into his palm as tears hit the table.

"You're going to get up and leave now, walk right out the door and go straight home. I don't care what you have to sell to get me my money. Just know that if it comes to it, I have a guy who is ready and willing to harvest your organs once I render you a boneless bag of flesh and fat. We will get our dues one way or another, you choose how it's going to happen. Now go."

The man nodded twice slowly and choked back some tears. Tovin slowly released him and Roman quickly and quietly slunk out of the table and down the hall. He made eye contact with no one as he stared straight at the floor and cradled his mangled hand against his chest. Tovin waited a few minutes, cracked his knuckles which were now sore from crushing another man's hand, and removed a few dollars to slide under his glass for the bus boy before getting up. He glanced down to the floor below where he'd first seen Ophelia for only a moment before straightening his jacket and tailing Roman out the door. A true hunter never let injured prey get away without following the blood trail while it was still fresh, and Tovin had to see to it that Roman kept to his words. He'd always had a strong distaste for the organ black market and he'd like to avoid it at all costs so long as Roman made good choices.
"I have been hidden, scorned, adored, worshiped, forsaken, coveted and banished more times than I care to count. But the one thing all those experiences cannot steal from me is the gentle soul I was born with, the kind heart I have molded, and the bright ideals for the future that have lit my way through the darkness of the past."




.::.Pen.::.Sales.::.Wishes.::.
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