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 Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 8:12 am
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Charlize MurdochOwner of Blood Murdoch's: House of DuelingTheme of the Moment | Thoughts: You’ve got to be kidding me… | Owl
 Occassionally, when reflecting on one’s past, you hit upon a memory of something so painful or embarrassing or difficult that it actually produces a physical reaction and you jerk, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. Imagine being thrust into that memory and trapped there, with no escape. Murdoch’s heart was hammering, her mind racing. And his hand was on her arm.
Like a brand it seared through her defenses. She felt weak. She was weak. She remembered how weak he had made her before. How stupid he made her. But she had done the right thing. Set things as they should be. A part of her had hoped that he would come looking for her, demand that she never leave him and hold her until she was done fighting. But that thought and the fear that it might actually happen kept her running. She had eluded him. She had succeeded. Wasn’t that wonderful…Until now that is.
His Italian rumbled over his lips and surrounded her in a million other things that he had muttered to her. Beautiful things that were not meant to be said to someone like Murdoch. Spinning back on him she jerked her arm from his grasp. “Get your hands off of me!” Her blue eyes blazed angrily up at him. “What do you want?”
She almost regretted asking the question. She didn’t want to know the answer. If he hated her and wanted to scream at her, she didn’t want to hear it. If he wanted to beg her to come back, she would spurn him with all of the avarice that she held. But if he- She physically cringed and stopped the thought. He wouldn’t. He didn’t. There was nothing more to consider. Even if he did, she would just send him away.
There was no use having anything to do with him, despite his gorgeous eyes, chiseled features and muscled body. But he was too dangerous to attempt to dally with. She had him, for a long time. Too long. If nothing else, she had learned from their time together. Since then she had never let an infatuation last. She would have her fill of someone. Usually no longer than a week, or perhaps just meeting up every now and again. She never, never let it get out of hand.
Which is why she needed to get away from Remington this morning. The discoveries that she made in the white room still haunted her. It made him too much of a person, not just the piece of meat that she had intended. He was desirable enough on his own, but to show a more culnerable side of him had made her feel…something.
And now Giovanni? The man that she had …she couldn’t even think it. Feeling a tremble go through her body, she felt a sting in her eyes. Blinking quickly she steeled herself. These men and their emotional trials were not going to get the best of her. Murdoch knew who she was, what she wanted and exactly what she was doing. He wouldn’t make her regret or go wistful. She glazed on an expression of irritation and stuck her chin out defiantly.
Nothing that he could say would phase her.
She repeated that mantra in her head until she almost believed it. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 10:19 am
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Giovanni Cattani||+||Sorcerer||+||Height: 6'2”||+||Weight: 180lbs||+||Age: 28||+||Hair: Black||+||Eyes: Green||+||Theme of the Moment||+||
Magic is only as powerful as the mind that wields it. And power is always a relative concept.
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At her angry retort Giovanni let go of her arm as if struck by lightning, but however violent her response it confirmed her identity to him. This was Charlize Murdoch, also known as “Blood” Murdoch: a dueling champion; to him however, she would always be Charlie. ”What do I want?” he repeated out loud as his mind registered her demand. Several things raced through his mind, each dismissed with the same speed they came in, thoughts of wanting to kiss her, to ask her why, so on and so forth; all equally cast aside because deep down Giovanni knew they weren’t the right response. They weren’t the right response because Giovanni didn’t know what he wanted, not really. After all, six years had passed since she left and time definitely changes people, he knew he was not the same man from back then.
Yet Giovanni smiled, in direct contrast to Charlie’s look of absolute irritation and defiant pose. He had schooled his features and adopted an easygoing grin, one that simply displayed nonchalance at the anger directed towards him. Gone was the man lost in memories, now stood the firstborn son of the Cattani, who was witty, clever, and charming. Now stood the man that was the delight of parties, and of Sorcerous Italy’s nightlife. He knew Charlie; you had to be careful in defusing this firecracker of a woman lest she blow up at you. But he knew that he could not simply let her leave, he would regret it if he did. So he simply realized what was the correct course of action, she had likely come to the cauldron for either drinks or a meal; it would be best if he could accompany her, as it would give them a chance to talk.
His grin still on his face and his eyes shining mischievously he answered her question, Che cosa fanno volere sono semplice; sorry, what I want is simple: to apologize for not paying attention and running into you. Please, allow me to buy you dinner as an apology for my rudeness. You were going to the Cauldron yes? Or would you prefer un altro ristorante?
He wasn’t sure how she would respond, would she be angry? Tell him to leave and never bother her again? Would she break down into tears, and blame him for not finding her? Perhaps she would simply sniff with disdain and walk away. Or maybe she would smile and accept. Some part of him was definitely hoping it would be the last one, but he waited patiently for her response.
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Thirteen families rose to support the Dark Lord, they would have succeeded if not for seven brave souls. Five fell in the defense of their home and country, the other two have vanished; but they are not forgotten. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 12:38 pm
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Charlize MurdochOwner of Blood Murdoch's: House of DuelingTheme of the Moment | Thoughts: Tread carefully… | Owl
Pale, slender hands balled into fists. She somehow resisted the urge to leap onto him and pummel him thoroughly. How dare he! She was sure that there was no way that he was not furious with her. Or that he didn’t still feel…something. And to act so polite it was just…adorable. She hated him for that. The whole approach, it was just like the first time that he asked her out. A memory that made her wand to smile and cry and rage all at the same time.
She had been in a dueling competition, a small sanctioned event in a dueling alley at the back of a private Wizard club in a small town in southern Italy. She had been traveling the circuit, collecting wins so that she could be invited to the more exclusive duels. Despite the fact that she was a woman, she was actually becoming a favorite to bet on and building a small reputation. The club was beautiful, and an interesting setting for Murdoch’s dueling style. It often made her hated by the locals to see their duelists handled so roughly and by a young woman. But she knew how to stay inside the rules with her style.
It was the third round and she stepped up to the floor. Looking down the lane she saw a tall, suave, beautiful man. As they walked to the center for the salute, she made sure to sway her hips a little more, bat her eyelashes coquettishly as she gazed approvingly on him. Amping up the hip swaying as she walked away, even some of the more cultured gents watching her a** with unabashed interest. They reached the end, turned and Murdoch had unleashed hell on him. He was pretty good, but seemed out of his element. Murdoch exploited every weakness and was as hard on him as anyone else that day, maybe more so.
Later, she was out to celebrate her win at the tournament with a few drinks. She was sitting at the bar, dressed in her usual tight, black, corseted attire and with a few young men around her jockeying for who would get her into bed for the night. Murdoch had a look of bored disinterest until the door opened and a familiar figure walked in. Despite his split lip and whatever bruises his clothes hid, he had a look of old world elegance, power, confidence and good nature. He dismissed the other men with no more than a wave of his hand. Murdoch had spun in her seat to treat him with an ornery smile. She had expected someone might have a battered ego and come to try to beat her down or command her to leave town. But this man came to formally ask her to join him for dinner that evening.
She laughed. He was treating her like she was a lady when she was clearly common. But it amused her, so she agreed. At dinner, which was extravagant, he proved himself to be just as refined as he appeared and twice as intelligent. For the most part she watched him and merely listened with a skeptical eyebrow. But a few times he managed to skillfully lead her into an engaging discussion. He never once said how much he liked her breasts and was even discrete when he looked at them. Which only made Murdoch lean forward and flaunt her gifts more.
At the end of the night, he took her back to the inn where she was staying but rather than follow her inside, he stopped at the door, thanked her for the evening, kissed her hand and disapparated. Murdoch was shocked and then furious. But he sent her enchanted lilies the next day with a letter asking for dinner again that night. She went again, this time dressed even more alluringly but received the same good bye at the door. It was downright irritating. And challenging.
So she continued to see him. He would send her gifts with beautifully written letters, always polite and respectful and it was pissing Murdoch off. She was practically and sometimes literally throwing herself at him, and he always smiled and sidestepped her seduction.
But he knew how to keep her interested as well. Every touch of his hands on her skin, even if it was only his fingers brushing the back of her neck as he slid her cloak on, or the chaste kiss planted on her hand, electrified her. Occasionally, when she would try to work her wiles on him and press her body against him, he would let her go for a moment, his eyes sparkling with something deeper and sensual. It felt like ages before he gave in and took her to bed.
She had been so anxious, ready for the hot, hard, rough, dominating sex that she had with her usual partners. But he had stopped her, made her wait while he seduced her. It had been gentle in touch but powerful in result. Hours he spent worshiping her body until she cried in release. And when he held her, he was so affectionate. It broke through her defenses. She held him back.
And this, that polite manner, total forgiveness of her brash behavior and charming smile. How she had missed that smile. How many times had she conjured that memory back. Holding on to that image into the dark of nights spent alone or in the arms of strangers. How much had she gone through to try to forget him? And now he was here and acting like everything was fine? It was NOT fine.
Her stare narrowed, she tried to form the words to send him away. She was sure if she insisted, he would leave her alone. But she didn’t want him to be gone so soon. But she also knew better than to agree. The conundrum maddened her until she threw her hands up in the air, growling in disgust. “I am already going to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner, I do not want your company. But if you are going there anyway and having dinner, it would be idiotic for you to follow me and stare at me through the night. So to avoid the moronic awkward tension, we might as well go together. But this is just dinner. Understood?”
Without waiting for an answer, she spun on her heel and walked off toward the inn. From the back she looked like she was stalking off with confidence and irritation. But from the front, it was a different picture. Her face showed strained emotion as she wrung her hands anxiously. But it only lasted for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she forced a blank look on her face and turned to pause and wait for Giovanni. She just had to get through this one meal and she would be fine.
But the rest of her life after that? Well...she had learned how to deal.
"I have to stop at the bookshop first. If you would rather go on ahead that's fine."
Her tone was curt. Part of her hoped that he tired of her attitude and called the whole thing off. But another part of her wanted nothing more than to slip her hand in his, smile up at him and walk through the streets like they had done hundreds of times before. But that was long ago, in another life. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 7:04 pm
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Giovanni Cattani||+||Sorcerer||+||Height: 6'2”||+||Weight: 180lbs||+||Age: 28||+||Hair: Black||+||Eyes: Green||+||Theme of the Moment||+||
Magic is only as powerful as the mind that wields it. And power is always a relative concept.
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Charlie’s disgusted reaction surprised Giovanni, though he was careful enough to hide that shock from appearing on his face. After setting her ultimatum as it were she walked off brimming with confidence and perhaps irritation at his gall to ask her out. Giovanni wondered, what did he do wrong? He was positive that he had behaved like a perfect gentleman. A sudden realization made him wince internally; it was precisely because he had acted like a gentleman, he had thrown her off but had failed to diffuse her temper. In fact, Giovanni had likely made her angrier than before, she had most likely been expecting some sort of visceral reaction from him, but what? Anger, probably, considering her hostility towards him. Anger for her leaving so suddenly most likely, perhaps she thought he would hate her because of what she did? Maybe she had expected sadness? Desperation? Giovanni wasn’t sure, the woman before him was so familiar and yet at the same time, a complete mystery. At least he had surprised her; that at least was a sense of familiarity that had pervaded throughout their relationship.
He had met her by pure chance as he had been on his way back home from a trip to the Orient, India to be precise. This trip had been taken purely on a whim, and he had planned to return to India in a few days’ time. He had stopped at a small town in southern Italy to rest, again on a whim. A chance conversation about dueling with one of the staff at the inn he was staying at, allowed him to discover that there was going to be a dueling tournament hosted in one of the town’s private clubs. In Italy, private clubs such as these often hosted small tournaments with very few duelists. This was due to Italy’s propensity for informal and formal duels, a trait shared with Spain but in few other countries.
In this case, the tournament had several more contestants than what was customary and was employing a unique setting rarely seen out of Spain or Italy; it had a special bracket for professionals, four in this case had elected to participate. This was customary in several Italian clubs when multiple professionals showed up. To prevent them from dominating less skilled participants, match-ups that ultimately provided far less interesting duels, tournaments would pair up the professionals among each other. There were several reasons for this: primarily it allowed the professionals to face opponents of similar skill levels as well as allowing the amateur duelists of doing the same. Though the final would be an amateur versus a professional, the underdog or amateur would be the result of the culling among the lower ranks, often providing a decent opponent for the professional that had passed a similar culling.
Giovanni had always enjoyed dueling, being one of the top of his class back in school. As such, he decided to participate, electing to entertain himself and do something fun for the evening. For the professionals, the final round would be the third round; for the amateurs it would be the fifth. Four professionals to sixteen amateurs, and a curious notion: the winner of the amateur versus professional match up would fight the runner-ups of the opposite bracket. So if the professional won, he or she would face the second and third place duelists of the amateur bracket. If by some chance the amateur won, they would face the second place duelist of the professional bracket. This was apparently merely for fun, as the winner would still be considered the champion despite any subsequent losses.
Giovanni managed to defeat his opponents in the amateur bracket with an elegant style that emphasized subtlety to misdirect and create openings in the other’s defenses. It was an odd mix of defense and offense that Giovanni was comfortable with; cautious duelists that lacked power often employed this more strategic form of dueling. Personally, Giovanni liked it because it also emphasized in trying to finish fights quickly with a minimum display of power and ability.
In the fifth round, he met the professional he was to duel: a beautiful woman with auburn hair whose very presence seemed to demand respect. As he approached the center he grinned as he saw her show her interest in him quite apparent. He returned her obvious overtures with mischievous grin and a whisper of “It is my honor, to face such a beautiful woman.” They then went to their opposite corners where she promptly unleashed a very violent and aggressive style of dueling.
It was in this duel that Giovanni realized he had made a critical mistake: it had been too long since he had dueled properly. Furthermore, he had become too accustomed to fighting life and death battles; too often he found himself start muttering darker more violent spells that were improper and illegal for such a duel. He managed to prevent himself from casting these spells but as he mustered to control himself he was leaving himself open; openings that his opponent was quick to capitalize on. Nevertheless, he brought much of his ability to bear; changing to adapt to her more violent style, trading spell for spell.
In the end however, he lost the duel, which was a somewhat uncommon event. Most men would have their egos bruised by such a loss, more so when they were accustomed to winning. Giovanni however, merely became intrigued, were he before he was merely attracted to her, now he was interested. He decided to find her, and find her he did: at a bar wearing a tight black bodice that accentuated her curves most favorably. He also found her surrounded by young men no, dogs that salivated around her with only carnal thoughts in mind. Gathering strength to hide the pain he felt from his defeat, he walked up to her and with quiet glance and a wave of his hand dismissed the dogs that hounded her. She turned to glare at him, most likely thinking he wished to duel her again to salvage his pride as a man or some nonsense. It had been a good duel, his loss and her victory both well deserved.
Instead of challenging her, he surprised by asking her to dinner, which she accepted with a laugh. He enjoyed dinner, too often had he been saddled with a prospective match that lacked any original thought in her head. Charlie was different, an independent woman who was clearly as intelligent as she was beautiful. He had been physically attracted to her, which had amused her as she flaunted her assets at him quite brazenly, and often. It was at dinner he realized that she was a woman that liked to play with men, turn them to drooling idiots so as to have her way with them. With that realization came a challenge, to set himself apart from all of the other notches on her bedpost and demonstrate that he was genuinely interested in her, not just her body.
So he accompanied her to the inn where she was staying and resisted every urge he had to follow her and have his carnal ways with her. He merely kissed her and left, straight into a cold shower. This act of restraint achieved the desired result: Charlie now saw him as a challenge to conquer. He and Charlie began seeing each other, traveling across the world as they did, and each time they met they played a game. Each night Charlie would employ her generous gifts to drag him into a night of rough, sweaty sexy while he attempted to seduce her slowly. It was challenging, very challenging for Giovanni; too often had he wanted to be done with the game and simply take her, but he resisted.
After what seemed like and age, he did accompany her into her bedroom, and rather than taking her like an animal, he chose to seduce her and focus on her pleasure over his own. He made sure to spend hours torturing her through pleasure, for all the times that he had restrained himself. She was an experienced lover but eventually he had her begging for release. It was here that he almost lost control, but he managed to merely make the last moments powerful rather than rough. They had spent the rest of night resting peacefully in each other’s arms as opposed to opposite sides of the bed.
But now, here he was in front of the Cauldron with an angry woman. He walked up to her and gave her an easy, friendly smile. “I'll accompany, you; I'm in no rush to eat. Besides I said I would buy you dinner, I have to be there to do so now don't I?”
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Thirteen families rose to support the Dark Lord, they would have succeeded if not for seven brave souls. Five fell in the defense of their home and country, the other two have vanished; but they are not forgotten. |
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 8:01 pm
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Woil smiled and shook the mans hand, he had sadly mispronounced his name, and he was also talking about something Woil didn't much like, "It's Woil, it's pronounced 'boil' but with a 'wha' in front of it." He said, gladly correcting him, kindly of course. As he moved onto the question he asked, "I get a bit, unnerved when I'm flying around, but my brother is an amazing flyer and will be competing in the sport, as Ravenclaw, I believe." He said as he once again stretched the truth, it was his body, but controlled by Roi who did the quiddtich tryouts. He looked at his hand as he twitched slightly, fighting back Roi who was beginning to attempt to take control once more.
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 8:16 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 8:43 pm
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The hisses in my ear: Tonight? s**t do I have time?
What writhes within me: Surprised as hell, excited
Those entwined with me: Istal, Etheris, Daisy and Soren
Tonight....he was going to be alone with Soren, tonight. Not tomorrow, not next week, not in his mind, TONIGHT. Oh boy was he ready for this? Probably not. Could he do this? By hell he would. Charon never thought he would ever get a chance like this. Maybe tonight would be....no. Quietly the oldest Gaunt shoved that part of his brain down. Don't get your hopes up Charon you know better. They had a good friendship why risk it for a silly hope? He didn't want to do anything that would risk him loosing Soren forever. Friends were fine, he could live with that.
Still it would be wonderful wouldn't it? All evening with Soren and him. Charon wouldn't trade it for the world. Thankfully Daisy the wonderful girl she was, agreed to going somewhere else. He owed her something. Anything he didn't know what but he was going to get her something. She deserved it for being so bloody wonderful! Maybe he'd get her that new dress she wanted? Or maybe an owl for school? Oh so many decisions! Wait what was he going to wear tonight? Fancy or casual? Crap! He needed to get cleaned up and ready! Wait he didn't know where to go. Get directions you dork!
"Tonight is perfect." Charon said after a long moment of pulling himself back to reality. Focus boy! "So where do I go? Or do you want me to meet you somewhere?" He asked curiously. Where on earth did Soren live anyway? Charon couldn't even imagine a place that would suit the music shop owner. It would have to elegant, dark, mysterious and classy all at once. A hint of playfulness would be called for as well. That was probably the simplest way to describe Soren and even that didn't scratch the surface.
We both have our secrets
some darker then others.
I can handle the demons in my head...
as long as you are there to hold me when I wake    |
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Posted: Thu Oct 13, 2011 9:37 pm
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Posted: Sat Oct 15, 2011 12:55 pm
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Posted: Sat Oct 15, 2011 1:04 pm
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