Welcome Guest! Login Register
Blood & Bone  ✗  OOC Community  ✗  Thread Archives  ✗  IC Archives  ✗  2021 Threads  ✗  Private Holier Than Thou

Private  Holier Than Thou  ✗  TAG: Jessie Michels
Thread Closed
Played by  ✗  1 Posts Mother Alexandria
No Content Restrictions
She/Her
Pronouns
Level V Patient Zero
Type
Drifter
Affiliation
Priestess
Occupation
Early that morning, the sun was brightly shining down upon the dilapidated church. The chirps came in bursts, bringing a small smile to her face. The birds were calling to one another in that beautiful way they do, the songs coming from different trees along the churchyard. But when the birds started to chirp, Alexandria felt peaceful and graceful as she began to twirl. The movement of the woman told a deep and moving tale straight to the heart for prying eyes, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, painting a picture sound alone can never achieve. The green grass on Alexandria's bare feet was soft, a gentle tickle as each giving blade forms a cushion of green like a heaven-weaved quilt.

Even though Alexandria was infected, there was newfound freedom that awoke inside her. She truly believed the Blood God wanted this to happen, for her to make such a sacrifice by offering her soul and body, becoming his high priestess, and spread his word. But was he real, or just a figment of her imagination due to the infected blood she consumed prior to her evolution? Perhaps, some questions are better left unanswered... After all, delusion can make the world go around, some may say.

CRACK...

Her heightened senses caught a twig snapping in the distance from the right, just beyond the overgrown bushes that led into the forest. Yet, Alexandria kept her graceful dance, allowing her soon-to-be prey not to be alarmed by her sudden movements. Mhmm.. a potential meal, or a lonely wanderer yearning for shelter. Perhaps, I can make them one of us... Her thoughts were racing as she listened closely to each gentle movement of the intruder, a devilish grin appeared across her face; though hidden from their prying eyes. However, every twirl allowed her one step closer to the sounds, some would call this dangerous... but Alexandria called it calculated.

"Did you enjoy watching me? I didn't realise there was an audience." Her angelic voice questioned, not even looking in the direction of whom she spoke to. Mere moments later, her large hazel eyes were cast towards him, batting her lashes. Soon followed was a warm smile gracing her lips, appearing to be friendly. Alexandria's hands were pressed against the fitted thigh-length dress, as a means to straighten it out for the intruder. Keep your appearance, Alex... He's only a human. The white dress, a symbol of purity to trick those into a false sense of security, who would believe someone so pure could be so... fatal?
Posted 06-01-2021, 10:35 PM This post was last modified: 06-01-2021, 10:40 PM by Mother Alexandria
Played by  ✗  115 Posts Jessie Michels
No Content Restrictions
he/him
Pronouns
Human
Type
Military
Affiliation
secret service
Rank
specialist
Occupation
Crack.

Jessie didn’t startle.

Though it dismayed him to know he had made a noise, he felt trusting for a stupid while, as if for that while, and that one alone he’d foolishly forgotten the particulars of his world; then, they re-registered; he frowned at the noise, thinking to himself that any kind of an infected, or wandering animal, woulda stopped to listen.

It was what he would do.

It was why he looked on ahead; at the woman dancing there looked beautifully innocent, all white-clad, and yet experiences, and uncertainties cautioned Jessie against taking her for granted; where the motions could have appeared sweet, he thought them toxic-- where her danced was exuberant, Jessie looked at it differently:

For a person dancing so wickedly free in a world simply wicked and mean had to be the latter part, deceptive, and cherubim.

But he’d not voice that.

Disregarding (apparently) his fears that anything appearing sweet belied a bloodied tragedy, he stepped out more, for the mission demanded it; one he’d not wanted to be put on, really, being that subterfuge, as much of a thing for him, wasn’t also the strongest suit specifically; not his; he stepped out, still.

Out, out, out, watch the feet place down onto the swarded floor; one after another, as if a shy babe’s just learning to walk, until the shroud of the trees threatened to disappear, until the woman dancing danced closer and closer, and tango-ed with his breathing; she’d not know it, and yet at the sight of her and her proxy alone, Jessie S. Michels experienced something startling, and mortal.

(He hated the while of her.)

It was as she spoke-- spoke that he came out from the trees where he’d stood hidden, where their cloth of leaves and shade had concealed his frame, currently on a display; he would have come out from there, anyway; out, out once again, until twas just him, and his shoe-clad feet on the grass.

He felt near guilty for that.

But there he stood; a kind of a vagrant look, a drifter as well; a backpack onto his frame, something heavy and maybe loaded, treasures and threats, and a slight, suspicious frown on his face.

But he was smiling, as well.

Looking up and down the woman who existed so supreme and so gorgeous beneath the sunny day, the church in its dilapidated glory at her back; she looked its messenger, and Jessie didn’t realize the pull at his person; he didn’t witness himself drawn at all, and yet he stepped out.

More.

Step… step…

Until he was closer, much closer than he would have ever stood himself were she a man; were she a male, broad-shouldered and taller than himself, no doubt he would have reached for his gun right now, no doubt he’d not be deceived, however unassumingly so, by an appearance he continued to doubt, for he trusted not; in a world mean and wrong, ain’t no way a white claimed right to fine, and Jessie sighed once they were eight feet apart--

“Hi.”

His smile came on, coy.

He looked her up and down, once more.

“Aren’t you worried that will stain,” he mused, squinting his eyes a little--

“You know.”

You know.

He gave a shy (and still) brow waggle.

“Considering the world’s kinda fucked…”

And for a reason weird, and off, he felt shier at the word fucked: like he’d fucked up.

(The white made it so.)

He blushed; a little pink to his face, and the smile growing on boyish, and Jessie cocked his head at her, and much like an animal unsure yet how it would approach, he paced to his right slowly so, his hands ‘round the clasps of his rucksack, digging into his shoulders.

And so, the dance of encounters was on.
Posted 06-02-2021, 05:30 AM
Thread Closed