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tampered2006-07-12 04:33 am
ex-croak401.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-07-12 04:33 am
Log; Ongoing
When; Yesterday evening; ongoing
Rating; PG, for now.
Characters; Daemon Sadi, Jaenelle Angelline, Zack (Cloud?)
Summary; Jaenelle seeks out Daemon and then takes him to Zack's house. Because he is stinky.
Log; The winds had changed, shifted so drastically against the brush of power that should have had her heart doing summersaults, but instead filled her with a painful sense of loathing. It was him; Sadi, Prince, ultimately the liar.
The stride she took wasn't one that carried any sort of urgency; she had no desire to see him but something beckoned her, a trick maybe. It was all tricks with Daemon Sadi, and the last one had left quite an impression on her. Thus, after sending out a thread to, in a sense, tap into his location, she was off.
And there.
They were edible, the flowers and the sweet nectar they produced, and yet there the Sadist was looking nothing short of pitiable. It should have been a sight for sore eyes, something to bring a smile onto her pretty little face -- but it didn't. No, she didn't look pleased in the slightest.
"You've looked better, Prince," came a voice dipped in midnight as the girl, whose frame barely reflected that of a teen, slipped through the candy-kissed blossoms towards him. His lounging frame was bypassed, however, in favor of a lily that had begun to cry tears of sugary life, whose petals she gingerly began to caress with the tips of her fingers.
The scent was what woke him first.
Oh, in the sea of sweets that mocked the form of flowers, it was impossible to smell anything but the sugar crystals and nectar. But the scent... Her psychic scent was one he had waited centuries for, after all, and he would never mistake it. It was a sensual overload.
Then, it was the voice that made his eyes open, one second too late, just as she had brushed by. His breath was trapped, and it took a great deal of force to exhale after a moment, and then all his physical exhaustion of wandering the city for a full day seemed to evaporate as he stood and spun around.
Oh, he really shouldn't have stood. He really shouldn't have.
The midnight voice did not escape him; nor had the formal title. His swallow was dry, and he dared not step forward.
And despite his weakened state, his voice was a low thrum as he whispered out, "Lady..."
"Why did you come here, Prince?" She began, her voice eerily calm as she plucked the blossom free of its perch and turned to deposit it into his palm. It was unsightly she told herself, unsightly to see someone so great reduced to something like that -- because of her. Her fingers caught his palm only briefly and then she was on her way again, to settle atop of the bench he was sprawled across previously.
"Choose them carefully, your words, I trusted them once but I'll never make that mistake again." You silky, court-trained liar, she inwardly hissed as she adverted her stare elsewhere. "The flower is edible," she finished, and that was all. He could eat it, or he could abandon it to the ground; though she knew the latter of the two was impractical. It could very well have been poison and he would have accepted it.
Because it was from Jaenelle's hand.
If Jaenelle had truly wanted to poison him, Daemon never could have denied her. What was his life worth if she deemed it worthless?
The words that tumbled from her lips seemed elegant and wounded all at once. Through the piercing midnight, he could almost taste the bitter pool of memories, and was quick to lift the flower to his lips, drawing a petal into his mouth to let the sweetness overcome them for just a moment.
He would hardly call this a proper meal, but it seemed like it was better for him than nothing, and there was certainly no way he was going to ignore it when Jaenelle had gone through the displeasure of having to touch him to deposit it in his hand.
It was hard to breathe. Hard to stand. Hard to gaze at her without being blinded. His bright Darkness. But still, he forced himself to do all of these, though his calm demeanor was certainly shattering before her.
"Lady, I..." His hand lowered, and the rest of him followed, sinking down to kneel before her. "What reason would I have to return to a world without you?"
Oh, her body was healing, but her self was quite blatantly not in it.
"You lied to me." Short, sweet and most definitely to the point. When he kneeled her eyes followed him only to make sure that he wasn't attempting to make a fool of her again. "I didn't trust them, but I trusted you. I thought, maybe, that you would be the one to understand."
She caught him beneath the chin with the tips of her fingers and tilted his face up, letting him meet not a scowl, but lips that quivered as if she was soon to be brought to tears. "If you were my friend, you wouldn't have lied to me." But he did, and it stung. After releasing his face she rose to her feet and proceeded to retrace her steps, towards Xanadu's exit.
You lied.
What reason would I have to return to a world without you?
Doubt, maybe that was what stopped her in her tracks then, what had her turning her head to gaze down upon the man who knelt and almost seemed to wordlessly plea.
His breath caught when he felt the touch of those dainty fingers, and no dagger in his heart could have hurt worse than the pain and sense of betrayal in her eyes and psychic scent humming through him.
So stricken by it, he could only watch as she began to move away. His mind screamed for him to follow, but he couldn't make a move until their gazes met again. That was when he stood and found his breath again, the flower in a grip that still managed to be delicate despite his tense stature.
"I had to. Jaenelle... The Priest helped me lie." In the back of his mind, he felt like perhaps he shouldn't be using Saetan as a tool to defend himself, but he was attempting to speak the truth that she deserved to hear.
"Sometimes friends must lie to save each other. I could not let your body merely bleed to death while you stayed lost there in your misty place. The body is not you... But it needs you. We need you. ...I need you." In that confession, his voice cracked, and it took all of his willpower to keep looking into those sapphire eyes.
He was an open book, then, tendrils of his desperation longing to caress her mind, but staying at bay for fear of crossing that line she had etched.
"Stop it," Jaenelle hissed before she knew it, taking a step or two away from him with each and every word he so truthfully spoke. She didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know that she had hated him for nothing, that she swore to herself that there would never be another day where he saw her smile.
And there it was, betraying her.
"You can need me all you want, Prince, but it won't mean a thing if you don't keep up with your health." She murmured, stretching her hands up to cup the sides of his face and tug him down a bit so that they were momentarily level.
"The Priest or not, Daemon," came the purr, the silken caress of a name that she had first denied him in favor of teasing formalities. "I won't forgive you if you lie to me again." And just like that, she retracted her hands and twirled on a heel to show him her back. The air, it almost seemed a little lighter then, a bit more like a candied garden and less like a storm.
It wasn't until Jaenelle had turned her back on him that Daemon realized he was trembling.
Her touch, her eyes, her lilting coo of a voice. Say it again, say my name again! Say it whisper it scream it call i-- "I understand."
Oh, he understood. Quite well. He wasn't afraid of being punished. He was much more terrified of ever seeing that horrible gleam in her eyes again. Disappointment.
Two golden eyes looked once more to the flower in his hand, and he lifted it to began plucking at it, eating it with as much decency as one could eat a flower while prowling behind a young girl like a stalker.
He had many questions. Where were they? Was she willing to return yet? How long had she been here? Could he hold her hand? Oh, Mother Night, could he?
No, no. He kept his lips clamped shut except for when a candied petal passed through them.
"The City," Jaenelle spoke up after a second or two, her hands daintily linked back behind her at the small of her back. "It doesn't have a name, or at least not one that I've heard. The carousel in the center of the city seems to be one of the reasons the dead walk here," she paused and shot Daemon a playful, yet reassuring sort of smile. "I'm not dead, and neither are you."
Then it was back to explaining. She explained everything she could remember and then some; from Xanadu and its colorful blossoms to the Underworld and its vicious monsters. It might have seemed like a fairytale gone bad, crafted by the boundless imagination that a child was capable of having, had it not been from Jaenelle's own mouth.
"Is that the only thing you've eaten since you got here?" Her eyes drifted from the petals he clutched to his face, and then back to the petals again. It was then and only then that she extended a hand out to him and used the other to point to a black blossom. "They're all edible, but not all of them are good. That one will make you sick."
A pause, and then..
"Daemon, you're stinky."
Throughout her explanation, Daemon could only stare mutely down at her golden hair while he trailed behind her. Carousel? Dead? Well, true he had wondered for a moment if they were, but that wouldn't have made sense. The cildru dyathe walked in Hell. If this was Hell, the Priest would have been here.
This didn't seem to be any sort of Court at all.
It was her painfully blunt comment that startled him out of his daze, and a familiar air settled about him, playing along with her impish commentary. Haughty, and certainly full of pride, his tone was as dry as a dessert as he drawled out, "Well I must admit, finding a decent shower and a change of clothes was not the first thing on my mind, but I can certainly make it my top priority if my Lady is willing to supply said shower and clothes. But I must warn you... I will wear no dress."
Not even for Jaenelle.
Jaenelle shot him a grin at the dress comment and little more after. While the mental image was something to cherish, she didn't really think she wanted to see Daemon in a dress, let alone in one of hers. He was too big and her passion for said dresses was dwindling.
"You and Zack are about the same height, I'm sure he can lend you some clothes until I can wash yours." The fountain, she thought, wasn't exactly a place that she wanted Daemon going to, especially considering the circumstances for his arrival. "Maybe even his shower, too."
She hummed to herself, as if in thought, then she gave his hand a little squeeze. A reassurance, a brush of affection, or a reflex -- he could take it as he wished, she certainly looked content now, at least.
It was a good thing Jaenelle was looking away when she mentioned Zack's name, because for that split second his eyes glittered dangerously, and he felt a surge of jealousy.
Who was Zack? How close were they? Had she used his shower? Was he some kind of sick pervert?
Almost as soon as her hand brushed his, Daemon's thoughts dissolved into something resembling a puddle of goo, right along with his heart. He dared to offer a light squeeze back, but nothing more. Careful. Always, always careful.
"It sounds like a good idea. Where is he at?"
Rating; PG, for now.
Characters; Daemon Sadi, Jaenelle Angelline, Zack (Cloud?)
Summary; Jaenelle seeks out Daemon and then takes him to Zack's house. Because he is stinky.
Log; The winds had changed, shifted so drastically against the brush of power that should have had her heart doing summersaults, but instead filled her with a painful sense of loathing. It was him; Sadi, Prince, ultimately the liar.
The stride she took wasn't one that carried any sort of urgency; she had no desire to see him but something beckoned her, a trick maybe. It was all tricks with Daemon Sadi, and the last one had left quite an impression on her. Thus, after sending out a thread to, in a sense, tap into his location, she was off.
And there.
They were edible, the flowers and the sweet nectar they produced, and yet there the Sadist was looking nothing short of pitiable. It should have been a sight for sore eyes, something to bring a smile onto her pretty little face -- but it didn't. No, she didn't look pleased in the slightest.
"You've looked better, Prince," came a voice dipped in midnight as the girl, whose frame barely reflected that of a teen, slipped through the candy-kissed blossoms towards him. His lounging frame was bypassed, however, in favor of a lily that had begun to cry tears of sugary life, whose petals she gingerly began to caress with the tips of her fingers.
The scent was what woke him first.
Oh, in the sea of sweets that mocked the form of flowers, it was impossible to smell anything but the sugar crystals and nectar. But the scent... Her psychic scent was one he had waited centuries for, after all, and he would never mistake it. It was a sensual overload.
Then, it was the voice that made his eyes open, one second too late, just as she had brushed by. His breath was trapped, and it took a great deal of force to exhale after a moment, and then all his physical exhaustion of wandering the city for a full day seemed to evaporate as he stood and spun around.
Oh, he really shouldn't have stood. He really shouldn't have.
The midnight voice did not escape him; nor had the formal title. His swallow was dry, and he dared not step forward.
And despite his weakened state, his voice was a low thrum as he whispered out, "Lady..."
"Why did you come here, Prince?" She began, her voice eerily calm as she plucked the blossom free of its perch and turned to deposit it into his palm. It was unsightly she told herself, unsightly to see someone so great reduced to something like that -- because of her. Her fingers caught his palm only briefly and then she was on her way again, to settle atop of the bench he was sprawled across previously.
"Choose them carefully, your words, I trusted them once but I'll never make that mistake again." You silky, court-trained liar, she inwardly hissed as she adverted her stare elsewhere. "The flower is edible," she finished, and that was all. He could eat it, or he could abandon it to the ground; though she knew the latter of the two was impractical. It could very well have been poison and he would have accepted it.
Because it was from Jaenelle's hand.
If Jaenelle had truly wanted to poison him, Daemon never could have denied her. What was his life worth if she deemed it worthless?
The words that tumbled from her lips seemed elegant and wounded all at once. Through the piercing midnight, he could almost taste the bitter pool of memories, and was quick to lift the flower to his lips, drawing a petal into his mouth to let the sweetness overcome them for just a moment.
He would hardly call this a proper meal, but it seemed like it was better for him than nothing, and there was certainly no way he was going to ignore it when Jaenelle had gone through the displeasure of having to touch him to deposit it in his hand.
It was hard to breathe. Hard to stand. Hard to gaze at her without being blinded. His bright Darkness. But still, he forced himself to do all of these, though his calm demeanor was certainly shattering before her.
"Lady, I..." His hand lowered, and the rest of him followed, sinking down to kneel before her. "What reason would I have to return to a world without you?"
Oh, her body was healing, but her self was quite blatantly not in it.
"You lied to me." Short, sweet and most definitely to the point. When he kneeled her eyes followed him only to make sure that he wasn't attempting to make a fool of her again. "I didn't trust them, but I trusted you. I thought, maybe, that you would be the one to understand."
She caught him beneath the chin with the tips of her fingers and tilted his face up, letting him meet not a scowl, but lips that quivered as if she was soon to be brought to tears. "If you were my friend, you wouldn't have lied to me." But he did, and it stung. After releasing his face she rose to her feet and proceeded to retrace her steps, towards Xanadu's exit.
You lied.
What reason would I have to return to a world without you?
Doubt, maybe that was what stopped her in her tracks then, what had her turning her head to gaze down upon the man who knelt and almost seemed to wordlessly plea.
His breath caught when he felt the touch of those dainty fingers, and no dagger in his heart could have hurt worse than the pain and sense of betrayal in her eyes and psychic scent humming through him.
So stricken by it, he could only watch as she began to move away. His mind screamed for him to follow, but he couldn't make a move until their gazes met again. That was when he stood and found his breath again, the flower in a grip that still managed to be delicate despite his tense stature.
"I had to. Jaenelle... The Priest helped me lie." In the back of his mind, he felt like perhaps he shouldn't be using Saetan as a tool to defend himself, but he was attempting to speak the truth that she deserved to hear.
"Sometimes friends must lie to save each other. I could not let your body merely bleed to death while you stayed lost there in your misty place. The body is not you... But it needs you. We need you. ...I need you." In that confession, his voice cracked, and it took all of his willpower to keep looking into those sapphire eyes.
He was an open book, then, tendrils of his desperation longing to caress her mind, but staying at bay for fear of crossing that line she had etched.
"Stop it," Jaenelle hissed before she knew it, taking a step or two away from him with each and every word he so truthfully spoke. She didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know that she had hated him for nothing, that she swore to herself that there would never be another day where he saw her smile.
And there it was, betraying her.
"You can need me all you want, Prince, but it won't mean a thing if you don't keep up with your health." She murmured, stretching her hands up to cup the sides of his face and tug him down a bit so that they were momentarily level.
"The Priest or not, Daemon," came the purr, the silken caress of a name that she had first denied him in favor of teasing formalities. "I won't forgive you if you lie to me again." And just like that, she retracted her hands and twirled on a heel to show him her back. The air, it almost seemed a little lighter then, a bit more like a candied garden and less like a storm.
It wasn't until Jaenelle had turned her back on him that Daemon realized he was trembling.
Her touch, her eyes, her lilting coo of a voice. Say it again, say my name again! Say it whisper it scream it call i-- "I understand."
Oh, he understood. Quite well. He wasn't afraid of being punished. He was much more terrified of ever seeing that horrible gleam in her eyes again. Disappointment.
Two golden eyes looked once more to the flower in his hand, and he lifted it to began plucking at it, eating it with as much decency as one could eat a flower while prowling behind a young girl like a stalker.
He had many questions. Where were they? Was she willing to return yet? How long had she been here? Could he hold her hand? Oh, Mother Night, could he?
No, no. He kept his lips clamped shut except for when a candied petal passed through them.
"The City," Jaenelle spoke up after a second or two, her hands daintily linked back behind her at the small of her back. "It doesn't have a name, or at least not one that I've heard. The carousel in the center of the city seems to be one of the reasons the dead walk here," she paused and shot Daemon a playful, yet reassuring sort of smile. "I'm not dead, and neither are you."
Then it was back to explaining. She explained everything she could remember and then some; from Xanadu and its colorful blossoms to the Underworld and its vicious monsters. It might have seemed like a fairytale gone bad, crafted by the boundless imagination that a child was capable of having, had it not been from Jaenelle's own mouth.
"Is that the only thing you've eaten since you got here?" Her eyes drifted from the petals he clutched to his face, and then back to the petals again. It was then and only then that she extended a hand out to him and used the other to point to a black blossom. "They're all edible, but not all of them are good. That one will make you sick."
A pause, and then..
"Daemon, you're stinky."
Throughout her explanation, Daemon could only stare mutely down at her golden hair while he trailed behind her. Carousel? Dead? Well, true he had wondered for a moment if they were, but that wouldn't have made sense. The cildru dyathe walked in Hell. If this was Hell, the Priest would have been here.
This didn't seem to be any sort of Court at all.
It was her painfully blunt comment that startled him out of his daze, and a familiar air settled about him, playing along with her impish commentary. Haughty, and certainly full of pride, his tone was as dry as a dessert as he drawled out, "Well I must admit, finding a decent shower and a change of clothes was not the first thing on my mind, but I can certainly make it my top priority if my Lady is willing to supply said shower and clothes. But I must warn you... I will wear no dress."
Not even for Jaenelle.
Jaenelle shot him a grin at the dress comment and little more after. While the mental image was something to cherish, she didn't really think she wanted to see Daemon in a dress, let alone in one of hers. He was too big and her passion for said dresses was dwindling.
"You and Zack are about the same height, I'm sure he can lend you some clothes until I can wash yours." The fountain, she thought, wasn't exactly a place that she wanted Daemon going to, especially considering the circumstances for his arrival. "Maybe even his shower, too."
She hummed to herself, as if in thought, then she gave his hand a little squeeze. A reassurance, a brush of affection, or a reflex -- he could take it as he wished, she certainly looked content now, at least.
It was a good thing Jaenelle was looking away when she mentioned Zack's name, because for that split second his eyes glittered dangerously, and he felt a surge of jealousy.
Who was Zack? How close were they? Had she used his shower? Was he some kind of sick pervert?
Almost as soon as her hand brushed his, Daemon's thoughts dissolved into something resembling a puddle of goo, right along with his heart. He dared to offer a light squeeze back, but nothing more. Careful. Always, always careful.
"It sounds like a good idea. Where is he at?"
no subject
With Cloud gone he tried again to cook and, of course, everything went wrong once more. He idly wondered how much he'd get scolded if he just left it there. Zack pondered, stared at the now smoking mess that was thankfully beginning to drift outside via an opened window, then turned and walked out of the kitchen to plop down on the couch with a heavy sigh to follow. He'd take care of it later, it was too much work at the moment.
Zack reached over and picked up a magazine off of the floor (and with his stealthy ninja-like ways, it didn't catch Cloud's keen azure eyes once, which was good because he knew he'd get smacked with it and glared at for making messes after the blond had just cleaned up) then simply flipped through it. How many times has he read it, he wondered to himself, and how many times would he keep on reading it was another question that seemed to baffle him after an extensive amount of time on thinking over it.
Thinking was overrated anyway. Zack didn't even know why he bothered doing it half of the time.
Lacking the will to even pay attention to that, the raven-haired man opted to lay across the couch and stare out the window towards the sky, finding himself smiling for no reason at all. While arms reached behind his head that allowed him to prop himself up a little bit, he closed his eyes and relaxed, knowing it might take Cloud a while to find something since he always seemed so worried over if Zack liked this or if Zack liked that.
Really now, Zack could eat marshmallow bunnies for the rest of his life and be perfectly fine with that. But at least it was sweet of Cloud, in the end.
no subject
"See? I'm not the only one who blows up kitchens." No, really, there wasn't an ounce of pride in her words at all! Undoubtedly, Zack was trying to do something sweet for Cloud - or at least that was what she thought. He seemed to care about the other man a lot, it was funny to watch them bicker.
They were like an old, married couple.
She wasted little time in making her way up the apartment stairwell, while dragging Daemon along with her. She didn't give him a chance to speak, and even seemed to be taking the stairs two and a time -- a feat that was oh-so amusing due in part to her tiny legs. If Zack's cooking was as bad as hers?
Then there was plenty reason to rush.
no subject
It really did all feel like a dream. A child's dream.
His gaze found it's way back to Jaenelle again as they climbed the steps, and though he had seen the smoke before, now it was the smell of something charcoaled that greeted him. He waited for her to lead him to the right door, before squeezing her hand again and oh-so-gently pulling her back to his side to release her hand. He was still too used to thinking along the lines that such a thing was dangerous when directly in the eyesight of others.
Jaenelle's friend or not, Daemon still felt the need to stand a few centimeters in front of her before knocking on the door. No no, of course he trusted this...'friend' of hers, but what if there was a fire? He knew there wasn't... But oh, one could hope.
no subject
Tugging down his shirt while smoothing back his hair (in the most ridiculous and amusing way as possible, that is) he marched towards the door, grabbing the handle before flinging the door open, arms outstretched as he let out a long and loud “SPIKE!” before latching onto the nearest person in front of the door.
A moment passed by where he didn't get any sort of response and he opened his eyes, circling them down to the young girl instead of the form that was wrapped around his arms since he didn't expect anyone else to be there. Jaenelle? Wait, why would she be with Cloud?
Zack moved back a little and put his hands on Daemon's shoulders, staring at him for a good while, then back at Jaenelle, then back at Daemon. Oh.
Laughing in a somewhat nervous tone, Zack removed his hands and used one to scratch behind the back of his neck. “Sorry about that! I was thinking it was my friend, but...” Zack looked back down at Jaenelle and, instead of paying attention to Daemon at the moment, squatted down a little and grinned at her. “Is this big guy your friend, kiddo?”
no subject
Because Daemon did not have 'bestest buddies'.
All of his muscles were tense, and his initial urge to lash out was calmed by the knowledge that this was a friend of Janelle's, and so he simply stared mutely ahead as the attacker seemed to realize that he was, in fact, not who this bizarre person had originally thought he was. As soon as he pulled back, Daemon's muscles relaxed.
Of course, he had looked perfectly calm during all of this, and his gaze followed as the man squatted down in front of Jaenelle. If Daemon was unused to being hug-tackled, he was utterly in shock at being ignored.
His mind still fragile from everything he was trying to compute on top of this, he said nothing, simply watching and resisting his desire to slip an arm around Jaenelle's shoulders protectively.
...Kiddo?
no subject
"Zack, this is Daemon. I brought him here," she began, but paused in favor of leaning towards Zack to whisper. Mind you, it wasn't a whisper that was muted to Daemon's ears, a fact she was well aware of judging by the playful gleam in her eyes. "Because he's stinky."
"Is there any way he we can borrow your shower for a little? I'll make it up to you," she continued, humming to herself. "I could cook dinner!" But before anyone could utter a word, she wrinkled up her nose and murmured something to herself -- a string of foreign, yet colorful words that certainly shouldn't have been part of any child's vocabulary. Let alone hers.
Then again, Jaenelle always did tend to learn things quicker than the other children she knew.
Cooking was out of the question, so what else was there?
"I'll show you a magic trick."
no subject
Zack looked highly amused but, instead of questioning it any further, stood up straight once more and smiled down at the young girl. “Yeah, he's more than welcome to!” Of course Zack wouldn't throw the idea of having someone new come into his home; he was the type of person to drag them in without second thought anyway, and if he was one of Jaenelle's friends then he was a friend of Zack, even if it was one-sided.
“A magic trick?” He shot the question towards Jaenelle but simply grinned wider, gesturing towards the both of them to just come in anyway. The guy looked about his size, amazingly enough, and since he was 'stinky' he'd probably need some new clothes. Zack had enough to probably open up a store of his own, so that wasn't a problem at all.
As soon as they stepped in though Zack turned towards the kitchen, then towards his guests and gave a sort of sheepish look to the pair. “Er. Sorry 'bout the smoke. It'll all fly out the window in a few minutes no doubt.”
no subject
But she's not just a child.
Daemon shook his head and watched until he was led in, keeping close enough to Jaenelle without being considered 'clingy'. The idea of her teaching a magic trick to someone had him worried. He could still recall when she had shown him how to hover.
Wrinkling his nose a bit at the burnt smell, he decided he would have to leave the two alone if he was going to indeed shower, and it was obvious they seemed to know each other well... So he would have to feel comfortable with it. This Zack seemed friendly enough. Daemon was still suspicious, but after what had happened to Jaenelle the last time they had 'met', he had every right to be.
Finally, the golden-eyed man spoke, his voice a patient purr as he motioned off to the side. "It's not a bother. Thank you for your hospitality... Where is your bathroom?"
no subject
Stinky, she inwardly mused, was far from what Daemon had been at the time. In fact, he had actually smelled quite charming to her. The shower, in all reality, was to serve as little more than a way for the man to relax.
"You surprised him," Jaenelle spoke up with a smile. "I don't think he's used to hugs, let alone hugs meant especially for Cloud." Those hugs, yes, Daemon definitely wasn't used to the squishy, me-love-you-long-time types of hugs.
no subject
Instead of doing much else than just grinning, Zack turned towards the couch that wasn't too far away and plopped down on it, bowing his head a little with an arm extended in front of him, gesturing for her to stand in front of him. “Anyway, m'lady. You had a magic trick to show me?”
In all honesty, Zack wasn't surprised that Jaenelle wasn't a normal girl. He had been in the City long enough to notice these things quite easily, and right from the start he had a feeling that she was going to turn out to be something more than someone who just wanted to make him cake that might've accidentally exploded when she was making it. But Zack didn't mind one bit; he was used to weird, unique things and was always opt towards making friends with everyone no matter who they were, dangerous or as gentle as a baby kitten, which could actually be quite vicious, but that wasn't the point.