Tempest Fitzgerald

propriety

LOL!!!!...ahem rogue

If Aurore embodied beauty and temperance; Sabastian, cunning and diplomacy; then it could have well been said that Andre' was strength and tenaciousness. The eldest of Le Cour des Grand Corbeau did not share the slender form and aquiline features of the younger two. He was stout and broad of shoulder, just as their sire had been; not tall, for he was normal for his bloodline. His movements were of a slower nature, as if every action were given calculation before being initiated. Andre' was not the portrait of feline fluidity, one would be more apt to say that he was likened to an alligator laborously moving from point A to B. But in that same comparrison, said squat reptile is also known for rapid burst of startling speed and temper when aroused. Such was the Eldest, so day and night to the Youngers. As events unfurled unbeknownst to him, Andre' had kept steadfast eye to the affaires which provided their comfort. Things were following well according to plans and agreements newly placed into motion or having been so in the past. The evening before spent diligently purusing records of things obtained and things dispatched; be they tangible or otherwise. Buisness had proven a very prosperous affaire of late, and the Eldest was spending more time in town than at the cottage. The goings on of Port Royal had been a bit more lively in the last passing of days and relying on Sabastian to stay attentive to it all was futile. As much as Andre' wished it were not a truth, the younger brother had fallen further and further from the ways passed down generation to generation. What pained him more was Sabastian's influences on Aurore and how she too was drifting away from the docterines. The chamber above bookseller was near quiet as a tomb and had remained as such while Andre' awaited time for next appointment. It was without hesitation the disdane he felt for those he delt with. Upper classes of men that would have spit on he and siblings if not worse, had they continued their lives as parents had. Now Le Cour was catered to and if any slight in regard to heritage was ever given thought, it would assuradly never be voiced. Men of power had vices and weakness, the Devareauxs profited from both. The Eldest paused in his readiment for departure to the plantation home owned by local aristo. There seemed to be much flurry in the past four and twenty hours regarding a recently arrived captain that had gone missing. He recalled the name and some relation to another recently arrived, as well. It was not the well being of the missing that piqued his interests, nor those in search of the man in question. No, Andre' contemplated possible profit that could be made if he focused intents to such a looking into. Another fleecing of wealth from the Gadje was always a satisfactory venture.

Footpad

(Only your immortal soul.) Highway Robbery

...a leg, and a quart of blood.

passion

Sabastian casually observed the activities taking place on either side of dirt road in the fields. It was a sight he had grown accustomed to in the past five years of residence, but not one that was totally acceptable in his mind. Forced servitude was an irksome subject even in its most respectable guise, a issue that was extreme polar opposit to the Ways and Traditions. Fortunately, the lands that the road currently dissected belonged to a man that gave fair treatment and some form of respect to those he owned. Overseers were not allowed undue abuse, and the workers that became too elderly for the harsh field conditions were provided for, the sickly tended to. A disturbance of reddish hue against field's earthy palet drew Sabastian's attention and the cheval noir was reigned to halt. The flow of calicos were as unmistakable as the slight form they clothed, and as the figure crossed the field intently toward where he waited. The men set upon daily tasks would pause as the figure passed in respect, giving tribute to one of their number, but set apart. Off to the far right, the present group's supervisor made no effort to hinder passage, but gave a call of morning to which one was returned. A knowing smile played Sabastian's aquilin face as the individual loomed nearer with purpose and he dismounted. The eloquant chapeau was doffed with the space between dissipated, "Mademoiselle Papillon, you are symphony in motion and I cannot think of any masterpiece that could rival your perfection. There are court beauties the world over jealous that they will never be but a shadow to your grace and..." The young mulato woman planted her small hands upon curviture of hips, "You save tha' nonsense for dem be willin' to buy into it, 'Bastian. I's not be so gullable to your silver forked tongue, boy." He stepped closer, visually caressing the toffee perfection of her face, "But mademoiselle...for you, I only speak truths." Her laughter was likened to the small bells adorning mount's tack and she fixed him with a speculative look, " You go on, boy...Dat tongue of yours gon' get you in deep some day." He clutched his chest in mock fear, causing another ring of laughter from her in response. "Ol' Scratch got his eye on you an' gotta special place reserved down in de hot place wi' you name on it." She chidded. "You listen now, got no time for all dis playin'. Momma Rose send me here to you. She say you would be along bout now an' to bring you back." Sabastian stood a bit straighter at the name's mention and the statement following, all the humor draining from his face. He had learned long ago that if the old Vodoun woman summoned it was best to attend. Current errand would have to wait he thought, as a quick glance was given to oringinal direction of travel. Remounting he leaned sidewise, offering a hand and settled her just afore him. Papillon's nearness was an intoxicating mixture of exotic scent and warmth, a distraction hard to ignore. Nevertheless, some things were best left alone...like tigers that slept in faux innocent repose. With one arm wrapped around her slender form, Sabastian applied light touch to the Noir's girth and changed original heading to recross the field Toffee Butterfly had just travelled.

The Moerae

Destiny

She melded to him, a tangle of limbs as the heat betwixt them rivaled the innermost ring of Hades itself. Firey bird called pheonix rose from the ashes with the conjure of passion unbridled, rising to unseen but lofty heigths and expanding until uncontainable; only to expire into the realm of La Petit Mort.

melding of souls

priceless

She met his reclaim of want with greed and made no objection as the flooring gave way to air and arm support. For a fleeting moment old fears rose triggering warning, then were quickly vanquished. The whims of the outside world no longer controlled her conscience or actions. Aurore felt the soft give of overstuffed surface as if it were an after thought. What would be, would be... and as he hovered above, she smiled predatory showing and pulled him down to claim what he had moments before.

wisdom

adoration

worship

awe

Aurore flinched slightly as his fingers traced the finite angle of her jawline, but no further resistance was offered as they stopped on the defined ridge of cheek. With the contact of his lips, borders regarding tradition melted and fell into oblivion. She moved closer until the only thing that lay as separation betwixt them was that of linen and cotton. Eternity could be measured in an interlude such as this, the defining of kingdoms or title held no sway in comparrison. They parted wordless to the culimation of thoughts blended and given form. In one blinding event, wheels would be set into motion and she held no fear to consequence.

angst

Wake

She was adjusting to his voluntary acts of nearness, but his touch was unexpected. It was not exhaustion that harried her senses, as a daughter of the Free Folk one learned to sustain rest in strange intervals and little went a long way. How could she explain to him what she could not reason out to herself and the sincerity of his concern added to the dizzying effect already initiated by the smallish distance that seperated them. Aurore dared to hold Sterling's gaze, resisted the instinct to bolt which had shown itself in not to distant past. Reaching upward, she lay her right hand hesitantly on his extended arm and spoke just above whisper, " Non...I am fine, truly. I had best see to your bath and meal." Like two horses tethered together and wishing for opposit headings, her mind and conscience raced....One wishing hasty retreat, the other wishing to remain exactly as she was.

The Rainbow Bridge

Ragnarok

Trickster