“Lesson learned: Avoid wearing cashmere on drug busts,” Vika stated as she glared as the culprit of her annoyance- a short navy dress and the red staining the white collar.
“Did آپ try hydrogen peroxide?” a voice behind her suggested. Of course the girl recognized his mocking London accent. She attempted to sound miffed at his sneaking up on her unpronounced, but she could do little about the blush that darkened her cheeks.
“What are آپ doing in a lady’s bedroom?” she demanded from him, hoping to fluster him. But when she spun to face him, he was leaning leisurely in the doorway unfazed.
“I’m not technically in your room,” he pointed out. Vika rolled her eyes at the Brit, though she could not avoid noticing the tired slump of the his posture, the dark circles beneath his eyes that she had missed in her initial irritation.
Realizing that she had stares a moment too long at him, Vika turned back to the blemished dress lying on her damask comforter. “That was not an answer to the posed question.” When no response came, she decided she was done with Nic’s antagonizing.
“Why are آپ here?” she persisted, putting force behind her words. “Should آپ not be out pursuing that Wiccan girl آپ are so fond of? I am sure آپ would have a much better time-” When she turned to face him here, she was startled to find herself inches from his chest.
So surprised was Vika that she stumbled back a step and lost her balance. Her hand shot out to steady herself and ended up grabbing a thick, muscular arm. the end result was the girl on her back on the bed, Nic’s face inches from hers. Having caught himself, he was leaning over her with a hands braced on either side of her head. Their bodies were so close that Vika could feel the warmth emitting from the fire-caster, smell his radiance of leather, sweat, and smoke.
Neither moved for a moment, which was long enough for her to make out finer details of the boy’s fine, chiseled, handsome, weary features. His eyes were an even darker shade of blue that the dress Vika had fallen on. Nic opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. For a moment his guard fell, and she saw a vulnerability in the shadows of his sunken cheeks, in the lack of light in his eyes, as if the haughty, confident spark that usually lived there had been evicted.
It occurred to Vika that perhaps he may of come to ask something of her. At this point, she was ready to do anything for him with few exceptions.
But as soon as it has appeared, the vulnerability vanished. Nic pushed himself up with a muttered apology. Vika sat up, ready to reassure him that he need not apologize, that she would listen to whatever it was that he had come to tell her.
But سے طرف کی the time Vik had caught her breath, Nic had exited from her room. She fell back on the بستر with a defeated groan, her mind far too occupied to worry about her ruined cashmere dress.
“Did آپ try hydrogen peroxide?” a voice behind her suggested. Of course the girl recognized his mocking London accent. She attempted to sound miffed at his sneaking up on her unpronounced, but she could do little about the blush that darkened her cheeks.
“What are آپ doing in a lady’s bedroom?” she demanded from him, hoping to fluster him. But when she spun to face him, he was leaning leisurely in the doorway unfazed.
“I’m not technically in your room,” he pointed out. Vika rolled her eyes at the Brit, though she could not avoid noticing the tired slump of the his posture, the dark circles beneath his eyes that she had missed in her initial irritation.
Realizing that she had stares a moment too long at him, Vika turned back to the blemished dress lying on her damask comforter. “That was not an answer to the posed question.” When no response came, she decided she was done with Nic’s antagonizing.
“Why are آپ here?” she persisted, putting force behind her words. “Should آپ not be out pursuing that Wiccan girl آپ are so fond of? I am sure آپ would have a much better time-” When she turned to face him here, she was startled to find herself inches from his chest.
So surprised was Vika that she stumbled back a step and lost her balance. Her hand shot out to steady herself and ended up grabbing a thick, muscular arm. the end result was the girl on her back on the bed, Nic’s face inches from hers. Having caught himself, he was leaning over her with a hands braced on either side of her head. Their bodies were so close that Vika could feel the warmth emitting from the fire-caster, smell his radiance of leather, sweat, and smoke.
Neither moved for a moment, which was long enough for her to make out finer details of the boy’s fine, chiseled, handsome, weary features. His eyes were an even darker shade of blue that the dress Vika had fallen on. Nic opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. For a moment his guard fell, and she saw a vulnerability in the shadows of his sunken cheeks, in the lack of light in his eyes, as if the haughty, confident spark that usually lived there had been evicted.
It occurred to Vika that perhaps he may of come to ask something of her. At this point, she was ready to do anything for him with few exceptions.
But as soon as it has appeared, the vulnerability vanished. Nic pushed himself up with a muttered apology. Vika sat up, ready to reassure him that he need not apologize, that she would listen to whatever it was that he had come to tell her.
But سے طرف کی the time Vik had caught her breath, Nic had exited from her room. She fell back on the بستر with a defeated groan, her mind far too occupied to worry about her ruined cashmere dress.
Kenzie freaks out when Robin tells her that she's going to go insane if she stays with Brennan for too much longer. She watches the fight begin as Brennan picks her up and tightens his grip on her. Screaming, she accidentally freezes time. She then asks for an explanation from Robin, who tells her Fin's real story and who Kenzie was. Kenzie gets really upset سے طرف کی this and time is unfrozen, but no one actually notices. Chelsea gets the upper hand and attacks everyone.
OOC: FINAL INSTALLMENT FRIDAY!!! 'bout damn time too...
OOC: FINAL INSTALLMENT FRIDAY!!! 'bout damn time too...
Alias: Ember
Age: 16
Power: witch who can control آگ کے, آگ and uses magic
Alliance: for right now I don't even care the line between villian and hero is basically non-existant so call her whatever آپ want
Appearance: long مالٹا, نارنگی hair (now tied up in either a ponytail یا pigtails), brown eyes, 5 ft. 8"
Personality: Calm, hot-tempered, withdrawn, loner(ish), serious, loud, trust issues (I might have mentioned this before but her trust issues have gotten worse), friendly, brave, strong (I mean emotionally strong), courageous
History: the only thing that's changed is that her father killed her evil grandmother then her father was murdered.
Other: Scarlet iherited her mother's immortal hunter gun called "Fire Crossing", she has some expierience in martial arts, and she has a dog familiar named Cole