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Pasion Pasiva

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Pasion Pasiva last won the day on March 10

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  1. He had soft eyes -- familiar. She lay under the canopy of his massive body, which was held up by a single pillar of an arm that had landed a little above her head. He was mindful of her, and she was fully aware. He didn’t crush her with his weight, didn’t seek to suffocate her with his presence. He was, in every way imaginable, different. And as he floated there, a few mere inches above her, with tension flexing the muscles in his arm, across his shoulder, and along the expanse of his wide chest, she drank in the sight of this colosseum monument erected for the glory of the male physique. His body was a literal wonderland of sensual pleasures, from sight, to sound -- his soft, steady breathing -- and even his scent, a gentle musk of sweat under the fresh smell of simple soap rubbed hard into his skin. But it was his eyes. Black as night, and just as peaceful as a moonless night catching the rays of morning sun here and there, throwing it back at her like starlight. She startled, but in a good way, when his touch landed on her naked hip. It was a soft intake of breath between slightly parted lips, almost like a hiss -- that sound before the kettle starts to whistle violently. Musical, content. His fingers drew up her side, and the sound changed to a giggle. It was girlish and sweet, everything that Gabriela had learned to not be. But then again, no one had ever touched her quite so gentle as to induce a tickle. And then she was utterly enveloped in him. That one arm continued to support most of his weight, but the other had circled around her and behind. He pulled her into him. Like a puzzle-piece, she fit into his chest, and her slender legs spread wider to better wrap around his waist. It was an intimate embrace, but oddly not vulgar -- not obscene. Until she threw the glass and yelled at the man who had appeared at her door. “Good riddance,” said Saul, almost instantly easing the tension that had formed in Gabriela. He sat up, and she had no other choice but to follow suit, since she had made a seat out of the top of his thighs. Immediately her arms went around his neck -- for support, she told herself, but the reality was that the thought of him leaving her made her heart ache. “He has a point -- only the preserving your dress part.. On the subject, you had better keep the glass breaking to a minimum.” Saul laughed and the sound of it made her frown. It strung a cord in her heart -- her supposedly dead heart. Suddenly she was all full of suspicions and anger, and yet she could not release her hold of him. Luckily for the Black Queen, her frown, perhaps more so now as a human, was an endearing expression of powerless frustration. Her small frame made her exude helplessness, and what could be more endearing than a petite little thing struggling with displeasure? She was about to remind him that she could break as many glass objects as she wanted so long as she maintained in her possession a magician who could clean up the mess. Fortunately for them both, her rude little comment never had a chance to leave her supple lips. “I hope you don’t mind this, but..” She felt his arms squeeze around her and pull her tighter to his chest. A little groan passed escaped from her lips just as he settled on her rounded jawline. He kissed her softly and her eyes closed in immediate response, as did her head tilt in utter surrender. The base desire was still there -- that automatic response to submit and offer her blood, but that was just half the truth in this particular situation. It was a delicious sort of need to feel his lips at her throat, a sort of curiosity of what his tongue might feel like licking up from her clavicle to her ear. She shuddered at the thought, both in delight and fear, until the press of his forehead against her own brought her back. And then she was up in the air, mounted on one of his strong arms, her bottom supported by a wide open hand -- that did not pinch, squeeze, or otherwise molest. She clung to him all the more tightly, and watched, from over his shoulder as he cleaned up her mess, just as she was going to rudely suggest before. Instead, she sighed contentedly. She was set down on the edge of the counter, a cold and hard contrast to his warm and rough hand. But she did not complain, and did not seek the comfort of his arms again. Instead, she sat there, perched like a little bird, watching with her strangely warm eyes as he cleaned the blood off her foot. Moods, like the ever changing course of the sea, crossed her face as he began to speak. Sadness, which she did not attempt to hide and a hefty dose of disappointment. “Perhaps the next time you call, it will be something less business-oriented.. Or not.. I will say, though: I’ve enjoyed our time. It is not often I get to drink with and take care of someone. Quite a fulfilling morning, if I do say so myself.” A question lingered, but she did not dare ask it -- was he preparing to depart? Much to her disgust, her eyes misted at the thought. Who was this man to her that she should suffer for his absence? And yet, there was a crippling fear gripping at her heart at the mere thought of him leaving. She’d slit her wrists to get him back in here, and back to tending her -- and that certainly didn’t sound healthy. Her brows pinch in a frown. Not that her life was the picture of health, not by a longshot and not at the rate she was guzzling down alcohol. But still… “If you don’t mind.. I’d like to watch you get dressed.” He was waiting for her, for an answer, for acknowledgement of his request. Gabriela’s cheek warmed. She blushed, by far more deeply than ever before -- in her vampyric or human life. The color went from her high cheekbones down to her pointed chin, nearly making a heart shape upon her face. Best of all, the pink color dusted across the top of her breasts, and up the column of her throat. But she did not offer a word of reply and instead just set her small hand upon his, which was out waiting to aid her as she slipped off the counter and landed on her bare feet. Together, with her leading the way, they walked back into the room. He took his seat and picked up his drink, and she cut across to her dresser. “I am traveling again,” she said, her back turned to him. She was a silhouette of soft, white skin behind a lush, long curtain of dark wavy hair. Her hair was a magnificent sight. It fell like a veil behind her, down her back, undulating like the sea past her hips, down to the middle of the back of her thighs. Not much of her nudity was visible in this way, but the outline was clear, the flashes of skin distinct and purposeful. From the neatly folded pile of clothing, which looked rather bulky -- at least, bulkier than might have been expected -- she pulled a pair of black panties. She stepped into these with relative ease, though she did nearly lose her balance (or appear to) once. Up past her ankles, her knees, and thighs, until the fine, satin fabric was smoothed over her bottom and the ribbon-bound waist was secured just under her bellybutton. It was a neatly fitted high-cut style, which would appear a little dated on her, save for the fact that they hugged her perfectly. She turned to give him a glimpse. “I have to dress functionally...do you approve? Wait, you have to see what goes over them.” She stretched out her arms, pushed out her left hip, and modeled the comfortable undergarments. But then, reached back for her pile of clothing and took an impossibly small pair of leather breeches. Skin-tight could not begin to describe the fit of her pants. And yet somehow, she managed to slip them up her slender legs without an issue. The material clung to her like a second skin, showing off the sleek figure, which was then promptly covered up by a rather loose-fitting white tunic-length blouse. She looked comfortable, versatile -- as if she were ready to go riding, and by the look of the soft-leather brown boots next to her bed, maybe that’s exactly what she was planning. Next came a heavy wool coat, which was exquisitely cut for her shape and form. She drew this coat over her arms and around her body, securing the pinched waist with a hidden button. But her attention had faltered away from getting dressed, and was pointedly settled on Saul. “I am about to abandon my staff -- leave them stranded here,” she gave a little shrug as she pulled the massive mass of her hair from out of the collar of her coat. She didn’t appear like she meant to do anything with the mess of hair, but surely she did not plan to walk around with it loose and flying everywhere. “That means,” she went on to say, as she walked over to her bed and took a seat, busing her hands with the task of pulling her boots on, “ -- that I am in desperate need of new help. How much would it cost me to have you stay by my side for the duration of my travels?”
  2. Your faith in me brings me to tears Even after all these years And it pains me so much to tell That you don't know me that well And though my love is rare And though my love is true I'm like a bird I'll only fly away I don't know where my soul is (soul is) I don't know where my home is
  3. Love, I think I'm finally done


  4. Well, I never want to see you unhappy I thought you'd want the same for me Goodbye, my almost lover Goodbye, my hopeless dream I'm trying not to think about you Can't you just let me be? So long, my luckless romance My back is turned on you Should've known you'd bring me heartache Almost lovers always do
  5. She's up dancing, dancing Till she feels nothing She's up dancing Cause she's wild She's up dancing, dancing Till she feels nothing She's up dancing Till she's disqualified You'll be lucky when she runs Out of desire Sunshine when her corpse is on fire You'll be lucky when she runs Out of desire Sunshine when her corpse is on fire
  6. You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe
  7. From her nest of pillows and duvet covered comforters filled with goose features, she watched as the magician dipped his finger into the puddle of blood she had left behind. With passive interest, she witnessed the fluidity with which he commanded matter and reshaped it and moved it. She was one who swam in the waters of the abyss, therefore this was not a startling demonstration of power or skill. But there was something in the way he did it. She likened him, in her mind, to a musician playing the cords of his instrument. It was soothing. There had been no short supply of handsome men in her life, but truly there was something unique about Saul. Maybe it was the simplicity of his power. Clearly there was potency in his magic, but his figure seemed a nearly perfect reflection for what resided within the mage. He was broad of shoulder, his limbs filled out with muscle, his stature breathlessly ample. Save for the scar across his lips, he appeared just a well-formed man. And although she had lost so many of her abilities, most notably the capacity to hear the beating of a heart from this far a distance, or to measure the quickness with which blood gushed through blood-vessels, there was still something to say for intuition. Saul was a simple man. Neither good nor bad. Neither wicked nor indigestibly-moral. Was there any finer form of elegance than raw power both within and without? “A drink and a rub.. You sure know how to put a man to work.” He was amused, but she was saddened by the comment. He could not guess at the weight of his words. How many men had she put to work for the pleasure of her company -- for the maddening obsession of owning her? And then, the only one who had ever mattered… He was dead because of her. Without realizing it her jaw had clenched up and her golden gaze had turned harder than she ever intended it to be when studying the movements of this kindly wizard who had come to her rescue. He didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he did not care for the petulant mood swings of this particular newborn creature that sat naked before him. It was better to soften her gaze and force back the pinch in the corner of her lips that would give way to agony. He was dead and she was responsible -- and all because she wanted a birthday party, all because she was mining for the support of people she ultimately just wanted to send to the void, all because she had lost their son and he was not enough to dull the ache in her mother’s heart. The weight of that guilt, of all the mourning she had refused to put herself through, it all came forward, threatening to consume her in that moment. But she was stronger. She pushed it down and utterly refused its existence. Meanwhile, Saul continued with his display of magic. He turned the bottle of wine, which carried her blood, into two matching glasses. It was as macabre as it was disgusting, but a part of her couldn’t help but revel in the irony. Once upon a time she would have guarded against anyone so much as obtaining a single droplet of her black blood -- and now, well now she was no one. She was of no importance to anyone, she had no name, no fortune, and slowly but surely, she was beginning to fear that she had no purpose. Would that all her blood could be taken and ‘re-purposed’ -- would that she could be consumed and be made useful in some way. “From the vines back home; Northern Ouread. Unless you’d prefer wine or sangria for sipping?” “This is fine,” she replied after accepting the glass from him and taking a moment to appreciate its sanguine color. She nearly asked if he could turn her into something as beautiful…instead, she drank down the spiced brandy and smiled at the burn that rolled down her throat like a fireball. When she looked to Saul again she found that he had moved himself away to a dresser and was busy undressing. A very amused smile touched her lips as she leaned back and relaxed a little more contentedly. “A drink and a show, aren’t I a lucky girl?” “No sense in getting everything dirty, right?” He was back, with the bloody hand towel he had used in the bathroom. During her life as a vampyre she had gone to such lengths to avoid blood, and now, during her very short existence as a human she seemed utterly surrounded by the stuff -- particularly her own. “In that case, why not remove your trousers as well?” she tilted her head, and smiled sweetly at him as he plucked her newly-healed foot off the bed. He began to administer that same care and devotion to the firm pressing of his fingertips into the tender flesh of her foot -- that same care with which he played his magic. Gabriela’s eyes closed and her head rolled back into the pillows. Had she ever had a foot rub? It was divine! She sighed a little breath that sounded more like a kitten’s mew, before wiggling her way closer to him and giving him better access to her bloodied foot. He held her ankle, pressed the pads of his fingers into her heel, and rolled along the soft length of her sole. Maybe his eyes were turned up to her, but she didn’t see -- hers were closed and her enjoyment was nakedly apparent. At some point, through thin slivers of parted lids, she peered down at him. The hunger upon his face was undeniable -- she knew it too well. And then, as if to ensure that her thoughts were right, the mage lowered his head and hid the glint of black in his eyes. He opened his mouth and she felt the warm breath roll down the top of her toes. His warm tongue enveloped her toes, the sensation was odd, it felt completely wrong, but it still caused her stomach to burst with thousands of fluttering butterflies. She squirmed in response and grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheets upon which she lay. And then there was stillness, and she had to peek down at him again. He was upright once more, licking the red off his lips as he watched her -- obviously for a reaction. There was no hiding what her body felt, not like before. She was flushed, a warm blush running along the space between her breasts, and up her naked chest, caressing the length of her elegant throat. He tasted on her a certain sadness -- but did he taste any of her ambition? Did he taste the madness…. Did he taste rage? No. She was just a newborn human, and her blood was extraordinarily ordinary. She was nothing special -- not to anyone, not anymore. Gabriela sat up and her hands went to his face. She doubted he would flinch, but in case he was worried about her intentions, she kept her hands open in as gentle of a display as possible. She wanted to touch him. She desperately wanted to touch someone -- what fortune that the man who had come to her was so gentle for she could not have given in to a brute. When her fingertips found his cheeks, she smoothed over them like a child might touch some strange, new, but magnificent beast -- lovingly, curiously, and with respectful wonder. That is of course until her fingers curled around the edges of his ears and combed through his hair. Then her grip grew tight as she tangled her fingertips in the thick mane. A pull would bring him down, if he surrendered himself to such manipulations of course. Down, she would pull him down until he lay upon her, chest to chest, with her thighs spread and her legs wrapped around the back of his thighs. Her arms wrapped tightly around his thick neck and her pretty face buried against his throat. A hug. A tight and desperate embrace. It took just about every ounce of her self-respect not to ask him to hold her. This was going to be physical -- nothing more or less. She had nothing else to give. But there was a part of her that ached for what love had felt like, for what she had but never knew to appreciate. So she clung to him in a most curious way, which would surely make poor Saul very uncomfortable -- or maybe not, who knew? There was a knock at the door and then the rattling of the knob as it was turned and the door was pushed open. A peckish sort of man thrust half of his body into the room before catching himself, with long, white slender fingers on the door frame. With blue eyes, full of mischief, he watched his mistress and this new gentleman -- hadn’t she just had dinner with another man the night before? And before that, hadn’t Arthur kept her company in her private chambers for nearly a week? He was grinning without even realizing it. “Lady Isabella, we have arrived -- your carrier is waiting. We’re all waiting.” “And you shall wait even longer if you interrupt me again!” yelled Isabella from under the large mage, before hurtling the empty glass at the man by the door. Lucky for everyone in the room she was a horrible aim, and the glass hit the wall quite a distance away from the door, where it shattered and fell to the floor. The man pouted, “...at least don’t wrinkle the outfit I left out for you!” “Give me something else to throw at him,” Isabella demanded of Saul, but they would both hear the door close once again.
  8. I've seen the world, done it all Had my cake now Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now Hot summer nights, mid July When you and I were forever wild The crazy days, city lights The way you'd play with me like a child Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me When I've got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? I've seen the world, lit it up As my stage now Channeling angels in a new age now Hot summer days, rock and roll The way you play for me at your show And all the ways, I got to know Your pretty face and electric soul Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me When I've got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Dear lord, when I get to heaven Please let me bring my man When he comes tell me that you'll let him in Father tell me if you can All that grace, all that body All that face, makes me wanna party He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds Will you still love me When I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me When I've got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Will you still love me when I'm not young and beautiful?
  9. She viewed this new world with her new eyes and found that there was nothing astoundingly different. There was no sentiment in her in regards to what was lost or what was gained. She remained extraordinarily passive about what had just transpired as she lay there, in what had been her nest of agony. In truth, it was probably due to the huge amount of trauma she had just suffered. Just a fraction of the pain she had been through would be more than enough to break the most resilient of men or monsters alike. “Quite alive, darling. It would seem you’re quite alive.” She did not know what trials he had suffered, nor did she seem particularly interested. There was a profound tiredness she felt, which felt more tortuous than the burning of her very flesh off her bones. Her eyes ached to close, and her mind all but screamed inside of the silent prison that was her skull. Sleep, sleep, sleep… was the chant of all of her senses, all of them new. Birth was after all a highly traumatic event. He touched her, and she felt it, but it did little to stir any desire or feelings within her. The blood running through her veins was black as ink now, and it ran just as cold as her mothers. It was a defense mechanism in so many ways, but especially now. So raw and aching, she made herself numb to the feather light caresses with which he explored her new body. Even those feelings -- those savage, base, and violent feelings of love and lust -- they felt dim and distant. “Listen,” whispered the Blood God. She had been listening to the sound of her heart even before he sought to bring her attention to it. It was the lulling call to sleep that she now struggled against. It was slow, with a rhythm that although Tenebre had tried, he had not been able to replicate. Her heart now beat like hers, just like her blood ran black and cold like hers, and even her body had been enhanced to be more like hers. She felt the new curves, the swelling flesh, the elongated figure. Warm fingers closed around her chin and forced her head to turn. She didn’t much resist, but she did require some pulling. The muscles in her neck felt oddly strained. Besides, she knew what he wanted and there was a part of her that loathed her for the truth in that small matter. He wanted to see her eyes, wanted to make sure they were like hers. He had to see if all traces of who she had been were physically destroyed. Dollya had some semblance of dignity left, some twisted and ugly version of it. So of course this was an affront to her sense of self, but nothing she would outwardly express. This was a silent wound she would forever carry. She saw the pleasure of satisfaction cross his face. “You’re perfect…” “I am perfect now,” she stated passively as he freed one of her wrists, and turned her to see what she had done to the other shackle. It was a marvel, she thought as she examined the broken links of the chain. “Your sister was absolutely famished after her change. I took the liberty of having a meal prepared for you, just in case.” The parade started then, just as she sat up. Her body felt alien -- like foreign lands needing to be explored before she made any attempt to make use of it. So she watched, with half-lidded eyes, as the humans came in. But she was not Lucia. She was not that bottomless pit of nothing that needed nothing more or less than to be gorged on blood. Her emptiness was manifest in the hunger between her thighs, which even now felt strange whereas it had been a comfort before. “Have whichever, and however many, you’d like. They are here to serve their empress.” “I am not hungry. I want to sleep. Can I please just sleep?” she glanced at him, those eerily familiar eyes warm and radiant as they gazed up in supplication. How many times had he wished for that sweet expression on Gabriela? She knew it. She knew it the moment she saw his eyes warm, as if he were seeing someone else and not the dirty little slave he had tortured for months on the hard, wet, and piss-stained floors of his dungeon. “Please, just rest with me for a while…” She held out a small hand for him to take -- an invitation for him to lie with her, another wish fulfilled.
  10. I am sitting in the morning At the diner on the corner I am waiting at the counter For the man to pour the coffee And he fills it only halfway And before I even argue He is looking out the window At somebody coming in Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo "It is always nice to see you" Says the man behind the counter To the woman who has come in She is shaking her umbrella And I look the other way As they are kissing their hellos And I'm pretending not to see them And instead I pour the milk Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo I open up the paper There's a story of an actor Who had died while he was drinking It was no one I had heard of And I'm turning to the horoscope And looking for the funnies When I'm feeling someone watching me And so I raise my head Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo There's a woman on the outside Looking inside, does she see me? No she does not really see me 'Cause she sees her own reflection And I'm trying not to notice That she's hitching up her skirt And while she's straightening her stockings Her hair has gotten wet Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doodoo, doo Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, duhdoodoo Oh, this rain it will continue through the morning As I'm listening to the bells of the cathedral I am thinking of your voice
  11. My love, I miss you. Write with me soon. ❤️ 

  12. I'm a haunted, heaving, I'm hung and barely breathing The drowning ocean, snuff the sun in motion. There's a pill on my tongue, a shot from a gun , the bottles bottom I'm lonely as a star So heal me, I'm heart sick Hungry, but I can survive on you Heal my heartsick hungry cries I'm heartsick
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