That's What You Get .:Amadeo:.

[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

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FORGETTING ALL THE HURT INSIDE
you've learned to hide so well

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Smack. The muffled sound of worn-down cloth being hit resounded around the dueling room, a small figure moving quickly in and out with a fencing sword. The movements radiated with the fury he was feeling, as did the dummy he was practicing against. The poorly mounted practicing target appeared significantly more run down than the fencer, which was quite a remarkable feat, considering the boy looked as though he had been hit with a battering ram more than a few times. Scuff marks covered the floor where small feet skidded after making a significantly solid hit on the mannequin, pent up rage and considerable fear making the impacts just that much stronger. The soft pounds of the practice sword hitting the dummy grew less and less frequent until the fencer stopped, pausing to lift the mask and wipe away the sweat formed from overworking his body. Truthfully, he hadn't pushed himself so hard in months, but it felt wonderful to have his anger chipped away with every swing.

Nightingale had never been one to let his emotions control his actions, which might be a reasonable explanation as to why he had acted the way he had. It was as though a reservoir of emotion had broken inside him, letting all this pent up anger flood out. Yet, he wasn't particularly angry at anyone but himself; his secret didn't give itself away, after all. Sure, a little of his frustration was because of the man who had managed to see he had a secret, but the harsh emotion was mainly aimed toward himself. Primarily, he couldn't understand how he could be so simple-minded; who would have fallen for his little act anyway? Even if he looked like a member of the opposite gender, the fact remained that he wasn't. He was bound to get something wrong eventually, he just couldn't quite understand how it had happened so soon. Of course, it may have all been a big misunderstanding and Amadeo might not have noticed anything off, but he highly doubted it. He had never been that lucky before, so why would it start now?

Night had left the library in a storm of emotions: worry, anger, and fear had been the primary ones in his mind. It was utterly ridiculous, this feeling of defeat, especially since he wasn't positive whether the butler knew his secret or not. But what he did know for sure was that he was considered suspicious; Amadeo had even pointed out that he, indeed, had a secret. It was certain he knew that Night was hiding something, yet the boy was just as certain that he didn't know what. Such a certainty didn't keep away the worry though. A life or death situation and he couldn't even make sure that it was safe. The thought had only spiked his fury at himself; why was he so ignorant? It was a question he needed answered in order to learn, but he could only wish he had known the answer before he had entered the library. At least, in that situaton, he could've kept up his disguise longer.

It had taken a quick trip to his dorm in order for Night to put together his thoughts long enough to slip into his dark green and white fencing uniform and out of his wig. If anyone saw him, he could always pretend to be someone else for now; not nearly enough people knew him yet for it to pose much of an issue. He simply needed something to vent his anger out on, and that something would have to be through fencing. Night wasn't that strong physically, so he couldn't get in an actual fight without a high chance of losing. He wasn't particularly athletic, either, so most sports were out of the question. Fencing was something he enjoyed, and also felt the need to practice at times. Since he was rather behind on his training regimine, it all seemed to fall into place for him. Not running into anyone on his way down had just been a stroke of luck that he was highly grateful for.

Night adjusted the belt on his uniform a bit before pulling his mask back down over his face, already in position. The patch over his eye wasn't enough protection, as he had figured out from experience, so the mask was necessary. Fencing had become more of a challenge after he had his range of vision cut in half, and fighting had become even more dangerous. His blind side was a weak spot, and he knew that. The incident that had caused the discoloration in his right eye had been something more than that; it had easily knocked Nightingale off any higher standing he had ever thought himself to have possessed. The crown was gone, and his name didn't hold power, at least not until he was eighteen. Either way, the blue-haired boy was quite able to handle himself without a social status, or so he liked to think. With narrowed eyes, he lunged once again for the practice dummy, his moves quick and precise, showing his practice, but also his fatigue as the slowed.

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STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Plot-buddy Amadeo
WORDS: 861
OUTFIT: This...ish >.>
LYRICS: Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park
CREDIT: RETRO GLAMOUR ! @ CAUTION 2.0

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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[/b][/size]
I'll reach one hand out to you,[/size][/color]
And in the other, I hold a dagger.[/color][/size][/font]
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Continuation of this...

With the last words uttered in the now foreboding library, there was nothing left as they hung in the air. They lingered like a solid phrase hanging in mid-air. The books around served as walls, both comforting and entrapping all at once. As these did speak naught but their written language, the silence was heavy, as was appropriate in this place. A low swish of wind flowed, no doubt created from the sudden movement performed by the female who had just been there, storming out angrily at his last words. It was both irritating and amusing to him all at once. Irritating, because it had cut their conversation short, preventing him from prying any more details from the interesting lady. Amusing, because of the lady’s reactions to his calm yet insulting words, much like an oxymoron. Her harsh replies only served to further heighten his interest. He was the Venus flytrap, and she, the fly, soon to tire herself out from exertion and would eventually have no choice but to rest on the palm of his hand. Now, it was only a matter of time and patience… and perhaps some digging into the lady. A major part of an experiment was pre-planning, after all, so research was a key part. Without establishing this as a base or a foundation, it would all crumble in the end.

Amadeo stood still for a few seconds or so, as though rooted to the spot by an invisible force. With a sigh, he expelled the pent-up wind stored in his lungs, no doubt along with any slight hints of tension that had no doubt clung to him in an unseemly manner. He tucked the hardbound, blue-covered book under his black-sleeved arm, the title in bold, brazen letters. He whistled softly to himself, easily finding his way out of the maze of books that loomed before him. Absentmindedly, he made his way towards the main desk, where he found himself checking out the book. The actions seemed not to be his, like someone else was controlling his body. His mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely – more specifically, on the lady and what he could do about her sudden disappearance. The logical part assured him that they would run into each other sometime soon, maybe due to his gut feeling, or maybe due to the hard fact that he was a class F butler, and she a first lady student, and as such, the two castes intertwined more often than not. There would be no rush for more confrontation today; he’d felt that he’d exhausted the lady enough with his rash words and smart-alecky mouth.

The doors to the library whooshed open, sliding automatically as to make way for a king. Amadeo walked silently northwards, eyes cast ahead and his back straight. Despite the brash encounter, it would not be enough to break him – as nearly nothing would be. He would continue to carry himself in a regal manner befitting of his status, and no humanly experience would be enough to shake it. Dim lights lined the hallways he wandered, but he hardly took note of them. His eyes never strayed from the straight path he was to take, his mind only subconsciously leading him around the school hallways he knew like the back of his hand. As his thoughts wandered, he soon found himself in front of a brown wooden door that marked RECORDS atop. Quickly glancing around, the butler turned the handle slowly, as though for dramatic effect, and stepped in.

Darkness greeted him, but thankfully, he knew his way around this room, too. It took him only a second or so to find the lights, and when he had, he immediately approached the green, steel cabinets labeled A-D. With brisk movements, gloved fingers pried and prodded through the numerous files, never once breaking his pace nor losing his place, despite the fact that in this situation, he was under pressure as he should not have been allowed in here. Within a span of ten seconds, he found the file that he wanted: Dymonde, Nightingale. A smirk crossed his features, a calm aura still exuding from him as he briskly closed the cabinet shut and exited the room, none the worse for wear. Not even a strand of his hair was out of place, no increasing heart rates, and absolutely no proof that he had just snuck into the secret files only accessible to the staff and headmaster here at Stella Fiore.

Flickering through the pages quickly, his head bowed as his eyes surveyed the lists and lists of words littering the pages, Amadeo kept moving forward, his legs taking him to his dorm. As soon as he had arrived, a sort of sadistic smile had painted itself on his lips, and quickly, he threw the file down on his bed. He tapped his fingers on his cheek for a second, contemplating all that he had read. ‘How interesting…’ After a few seconds of silence, he concluded that sitting in his room was not the way to gather his thoughts on how to approach the matter, so he decided to take a quick stroll around the Academy. He was still technically “off-duty” anyways, so there was time to wander. Time to stroll and plan out his next strategies to shake the lady into sharing her secret (which was obviously not printed on the file, although something odd was mentioned in the profile; he needed one more clue to piece it all together).

Dull clanging sounds echoed down the white hallways upon which Amadeo was alone, like cloth against sand, or some sort of soft object striking down an equally soft object. Temporarily distracted from his deep train of thought and questions in his eyes, the butler made his way towards the source of the noise, which led him directly to a room called the DUEL ROOM. Now who could be in here at this time? Classes here weren’t until three hours from now, and most of the females would be outside socializing and partying. Stepping into the room, being as quiet as a mouse, Amadeo’s red eyes focused on the back of a green and white standard fencing outfit, the person’s head framed by dark bluish-green hair… which was an oddly familiar tint, but he just couldn’t exactly place a finger on why. Nevertheless, the fact that there was someone here was certainly alluring, so quickly grabbing a foil from nearby and twirling it between his fingers like the practiced duelist he was, he made his way towards the unknown figure, saying nothing. When he was about a sword’s length away, his low, playful voice disrupted the silence. “En garde.”

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tag ; ; noire/ciel/night <3
words ; ; 1117
muse ; ; all good
music ; ; none
comments ; ; I MADE IT! XD!

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
FORGETTING ALL THE HURT INSIDE
you've learned to hide so well

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Athletics had never been a strong point in Nightingale's life. The occasional fencing lessons, and maybe a few archery, were all that his tutor had deemed necessary in the way of sports. Of course, he still understood those other sports that were easy to catch on to, such as a good game of football. Though, when he said football, he was usually referring to the game Americans called soccer. Their football was purely brutal and seemed to escape his understanding. Night wasn't one who did things entirely physical too; this harsh fencing session was merely an exception to his normal rule. Instead of using physical exertion to relieve stress, he tended to retreat back into books and schoolwork, something that would keep his brain occupied. A slightly different method than the norm, but something he found worked for him quite well, even if it did seem to leave him in a worse physical condition, something that already wasn't very brilliant due to his habit of forgetting to eat.

To other people, Night was a bit of an enigma. He refused to talk about himself, and when he did, it was hard to believe whether it was true or not. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking, sometimes even for himself. As a result, lying had become almost second-nature to the bluish-haired boy. Lying was the only thing he had considered capable of protecting him, especially when he had lost his sight in his right eye. He had realized then that, to keep himself safe, it was better to keep others out. Because of this, he only ever told the truth when he deemed it necessary. What kinds of things were where he considered it necessary? Well, mostly situations in which he felt as though the person wouldn't use it against him. Why lie if it was for no reason, after all? Unfortunately, this relied solely on Night's judge of character which was, put bluntly, terrible. Unfortunately for Stella Fiore, he and Theodore had also conspired to keep himself hidden, so some of the things in his records were completely untrue.

It was the voice that made him freeze. An icy chill spread through his body, one he recognized as fearful recognition. That voice was the one voice in the entire universe Night hadn't wanted to encounter again, and for good reason. This man was suspicious of Night, which was enough for him to feel as though he should fear for his life. That was the more dramatic reason. The other was that, to put it simply, he highly disliked Amadeo. It seemed as though the butler was better at reading him than anyone else had ever been, and that was enough to make Night grind his teeth in annoyance. He was supposed to be one of those people others found hard to read, especially since he disliked associating with others. Yet this man had come and opened the cover he had locked closed, and though he might have difficulty deciphering the text, it was farther than anyone else had ever gotten.

Unfortunately, the voice also managed to startle Night. It had been silent in the duel room, aside from the sounds that came from his practicing; hard breathing, the practice sword whistling through the air, the shuffling of his feet, and of course the impact on the practice dummy. But those were all from a singular person, and not a voice had slipped through the room since Night had stopped muttering to himself about an hour before. So the sudden occurrence of one that sent icy hatred through his veins was a bit shocking. Shock had never proved to be a particularly enjoyable thing for Night; the last time it had sent his head into a bookshelf he was leaning against. This time, being as accident prone as he was, he jumped slightly and, upon trying to regain his focused balance, lost his footing. You see, it was a terrible coincidence, but he had been standing near the edge of the stage while fencing, and his foot had slipped over the corner due to his shock.

The next thing Night knew, he was on the ground in a daze. His sword had flown out of his hand, landing in fact by Amadeo himself, and all the impact of the fall had more or less gone to his rather unfortunate tailbone. His gaze was blank and his head was spinning, causing him to mutter under his breath again. "Touche." It was only once he had regained his senses that he thought to reach up and make sure his mask was still on; as long as he didn't expose himself, Amadeo wouldn't have much to go on in guessing his identity. Of course, his hair was a similar shade to the wig he wore as a female, but their wasn't enough resemblance for him to notice. At least, he hoped this was the case. Yet, even if his face was covered, he glared icily at the man before speaking in a biting, sarcastic voice; his defense mechanism. "I'm not quite certain whether or not I feel up to sparring, thanks to your rather kind donation to my state of being." He knew it wasn't a particularly witty statement, but blamed it on the fact that his head was still spinning from his spill off the stage.

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STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Plot-buddeh Amadeo
WORDS: 896 (I didn't feel like adding anymore >.<)
OUTFIT: This...ish >.>
LYRICS: Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park
CREDIT: RETRO GLAMOUR ! @ CAUTION 2.0

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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I'll reach one hand out to you,[/size][/color]
And in the other, I hold a dagger.[/color][/size][/font]
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A whispered word in the ear was all it took to break the tension in the air. Not that awkward type of tension, where someone had just said the worst possible thing at the worst possible moment, and the room is filled with people staring with each other and trying to get someone to speak up and break the silence. Not that romantic type of tension, wherein a lovers’ date has just gone awry, the guy usually having done something that provoked an emotion out of the female, leaving her storming away while the guy profusely apologizes and compliments the female in an attempt to atone for his sin and get her to calm down all at once. So what kind of tension was it? Really, there was no one word to describe it. After all, how would one call a situation in which a person (most likely unwanted) waltzes into a room where someone had been brutally murdering a training dummy, breaking the silence? There was no word for it, so he did not even attempt to categorize the matter. All that mattered was that he found the whole situation – regardless of what it was called – quite hilarious.

The person – presumably a lady – had been caught by surprise, although “surprise” was an understatement in itself. Concentration must have been the first and last thing on her mind, and thus Amadeo’s unexpected entry and words proved to be a little too much for her frail little head to handle. A pause in her ruthless attacks against the dummy betrayed her surprise, a small tightness in her muscles as the voice startled her. However, it seemed like her body really did not expect company to be here, because as if those reactions weren’t enough, he’d startled her enough to cause her to teeter precariously off the edge of the stage upon which her, the butler, and the dummy were situated. And apparently, gravity won over her frail little body as she was sent toppling off balance over the edge, sword notwithstanding, as it flew in the air and landed right next to him. As all this happened, Amadeo firstly reacted with surprised eyes and some initial shock, before it quickly and too easily shifted into an expression of amusement and laughter. Well, not so much laughter, as he was trying to hold it in as it would be rude to laugh at a lady, after all. Plus, he didn’t exactly earn the freedom to do so, seeing as how it was his fault in the first place for sending her over the edge of the shallow precipice. A chuckle did escape his lips – he couldn’t help that one. The whole situation was rather amusing.

Walking ever so calmly towards the edge, Amadeo’s head looked on over, just in time to have the female speak, followed thereafter by a sarcastic comment. Instantly, a chill of recognition travelled through his body, and once again, the chuckle was heard, but this time with more definition, since he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. Twirling the foil in his hand carelessly, not paying much attention to the action as though it were something he could do with his eyes closed, he reached the other hand out towards her. Lady Nightingale Dymonde. Oh, what a beautiful coincidence this was. Just the person he’d seen not a few hours ago, and the person he’d been looking for. His karma must really have been on drugs today; he was just way too lucky to have anything bad occur right now.

“My, my,” he said, his voice full of laughter. “I do believe the floor isn’t that comfortable, Lady Dymonde. Do you some strange fetish for concrete?

[/color]” He laughed lightly at the lady’s comment on sparring. He nodded his head once, to acknowledge it. “Of course. Although I have my doubts on whether you can spar in the first place.[/color]” For some reason, he was prone to teasing this little lady than others, and for the first time, he felt more leeway to do so. Usually, he’d hold comments like that in until he spent more time with the female, but as he’d noted before, this one was special. Maybe now, he would actually figure out what it was.[/color]
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tag ; ; noire/ciel/night <3
words ; ; 710
muse ; ; up and running
music ; ; Paparazzi - Lady Gaga
comments ; ; -rubs hands- LET THE TORTURE BEGIN! XD

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
FORGETTING ALL THE HURT INSIDE
you've learned to hide so well

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Friendship was never a thing Nightingale looked for in others. With his antisocial personality and his inability to understand other's feelings, it wasn't very surprising. It was more likely that Night would send someone's good mood running through a bluntly spoken word or phrase that he thought to be true. He didn't put into consideration what others might feel due to what he's saying, but it's quite accurate to say he doesn't particularly care. It's like when people prefer cats over dogs; they put more effort into caring for the thing they prefer more. Feelings and emotions aren't something he prefers. In fact, if he had his way, his emotions would have long ago been buried so he could simply observe. Learning was the one thing that always held his attention long enough to be considered something he cared about, and what better way to learn about people than to observe them?

Of course, there were always people like Amadeo; the one out of a crowd who could manage to change Night's train of thought with a single softly spoken word. These people always held his attention longer, made him more curious to find out what they were thinking. Yet, along with that curiosity came the pent up frustration he had been trying to vent before he was so abruptly startled. All he wanted to do was hide the pages of his story, of his mind, from this person who was practically a complete stranger. For, really, what did he know about Amadeo? He could figure out that he was older than him due to his height and manner of speaking; that he was an F level butler because he hadn't seen a lady with him yet; and that he was proud of his status as a butler from how he had reacted to Night's prodding insults about the subject. Yet he didn't know anything else, and that was what particularly bothered him, especially when the man grated so easily upon his nerves.

Through the mask, Night's scowl deepened as he watched the man. With a bit of effort due to his slightly over-used muscles, he brought himself into a standing position, though the butler still towered over him, especially with the stage under his feet and firm ground under Night's. "If I may ask, Sir Robespierre, what in the world are you doing here?" The teen smirked, though he knew Amadeo couldn't see it, and placed his hands on his hips in a confident manner that matched his tone of voice. "I can only assume you're following me, which could also be called stalking. This, as I'm sure you know, is quite frowned upon, especially from a butler." Now, although Night knew it wasn't likely that the man was actually following him, or maybe he was just hoping that was the case, he was rather curious as to whether such a thing would impact the stoic man.

Night made a small disapproving sound at the butler's words, rolling his eyes. "Fetishes could be considered a sign of weakness, of which no one would admit to. But to answer your question, I do not. As far as I recall, you're the one who put me down there in the first place." Though he wasn't really one to think about such things, he was absolutely positive he didn't have a fetish for such a thing as concrete. Other things he didn't know about. He was quite positive that everyone had an obsession, but whether it was one they would admit to or not was quite a different question. Most people tried to keep the demons of their true personalities hidden along with any scars marring their past. Though Night wasn't very considerate with his personality, he was also one that kept his past hidden. And he hoped to keep it that way.

Amadeo's next words caused Night to bristle slightly with anger, hissing through his teeth. Even if he were to deny it, he still held on to a bit of that boyish pride, the kind that made you believe you were the best at everything. In a single, fluid motion he had snapped his mask off and thrown it with force in the direction of the man. It was a split second later he realized his mistake, his eyes widening before he performed an abrupt about-face, now with his back to the butler. He was tempted to cover his face with his hands, anything for that extra bit of protection from that red-eyed gaze, but knew in doing so he would unwillingly portray that something was wrong. Which something, indeed, was very wrong. "You say that with such certainty, yet if it's coming from an absolute imbecile such as yourself, I suppose it won't mean much, now will it?" With a bit of effort to keep his voice steady and chastising, Night crossed his arms over his chest in a slightly haughty manner. As long as Amadeo kept within his own personal boundaries, the half-blind boy considered himself to be safe. At least, he hoped so.

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STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Plot-buddy Amadeo
WORDS: 846
OUTFIT: This...ish >.>
LYRICS: Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park
CREDIT: RETRO GLAMOUR ! @ CAUTION 2.0

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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I'll reach one hand out to you,[/size][/color]
And in the other, I hold a dagger.[/color][/size][/font]
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Deception and lies. He wasn’t impressed by either or. Although it was already a well-known fact that indeed, humans couldn’t help but put up barricades, barriers and masks in order to protect themselves, others, or whatever their purpose was, there was no denying the fact that such facades were rendered quite useless in the end. Whether it be the fact that it was quite difficult to keep the charade for a long period of time, or the criminal was immediately found out, the fact of the matter remained that whenever humans were pushed towards the very precipice of despair, of their deepest desires, they would walk any path in order to escape from that despair, live, and acquire. Those were the very basic principles of mankind, no matter the person, no matter the personality, no matter how saintly they carried themselves about, the conclusion was always the same. In order to live, one had to escape despair. In order to escape despair, one had to use others, playing their cards carefully through well-planned out deception and lies running amok. Irregardless of the type or manner of which humans did so, he was never impressed. He could always see right through it, that pitiful excuse for survival, the humans crawling and bawling about so as to find any means to prolong their lives, no matter the method. Although it was true that he was no god, and that he could not perfectly read everyone that came his way that had a mask on, there was no rejecting the fact that he could still sense it, whatever “it” was. There was always something off about those who faked their way through life, and it was exactly those people that he could not stand. Even he himself rarely held back insults and compliments (mixed with insults) when talking to others; he was Amadeo, and would be throughout his life. There was no use denying his existence, in his opinion. So then he had concluded that those who deceived others, those who played others’ cards that were not meant for them were nothing worse than scum who did not have enough confidence to stand true to themselves. It wasn’t a noble act, really, more of a reality check. What was the point of being someone else, anyways?

Amadeo had come unburied this philosophy of his when he realized that there was already someone amongst them that did deceive, that did lie, that hid something, although what that “something” was, he had yet to figure it out. The name of the person was Nightingale Dymonde, whom he’d just met a few hours ago at the library. Ever since the beginning of their meeting, he’d sensed something off about her, but since he’d lacked further evidence, he’d left it at that. What he found the most odd was that despite knowing that something was up, he didn’t seem to feel any sort of hostility or anger toward the female. He reasoned that this was due to the fact that his curiosity over her actions and mannerisms overshadowed what would be his logical thinking. Perhaps that was why he’d sought out some information about her, and perhaps that was even why fate – the gods, none of which he believed in – had so generously gifted him a chance to once more meet the female in question and perhaps dissect her further. Unexpected as their meeting was, Amadeo had already made up his mind: he would find out exactly what it was that made this girl stand out from the others, if it was the last thing he ever did.

Nothing more but a laugh was given in response to the lady’s sarcastic comment. Despite having been caught off-guard and landing square on her tailbone, she seemed to be as lively as ever. And, well, that was also proven by the fact that she had enough energy to do that to the training dummy. The poor thing had been made of materials that could resist blows and force placed upon them by practice spars, but already, it had began tearing itself apart. Either someone had anger issues, or the material wasn’t as strong as the school set them out to be. Common sense, really, told him that the former was more plausible. “Why, my Lady, I could very easily ask you the same thing. And I would very simply say “coincidence”, but since I’ve seemed to use that term before, I’m betting it won’t quite work this time, will it?” An eyebrow rose as he spoke. “If you cannot accept that explanation, then I have no other answer. I do apologize.

[/color]” Here, his tone was sarcastic and mocking, but ever so gracefully he bowed, showing his “remorse” (as if he could really feel that).

“Weakness, my Lady, is common among humans. For if we have no weakness, we are gods. Even if there are those who won’t admit it, there is no denying that it, in fact, exists[/color],” he responded. Laughing silently to himself, he watched as the lady stood up, too prideful to ever accept his help. Actually, now that he’d thought about it, she seemed to be the type to rather drown and die than be saved by him. How trivial. And brat-like.

Amadeo’s next words were insulting – even a tactless person such as himself could figure that part out. However, the reaction that he had provoked out of the lady was unexpected. He knew she was a hot-tempered female, proud, straight to the point, and sarcastic (probably the most defining part of her personality here so far). But even this seemed to be beyond her, which earned the female a surprised look on Amadeo’s features. However, before he had time to react, a white mask had already itself in his direction, flung full force. Sighing exasperatedly, a trained hand shot out and caught the cloth, briskly crumpling it in his hand before he looked up to comment on the lady’s rash actions. Crimson eyes met short, tealish hair, with bangs that cut across the eyes in a manner that it would not completely obstruct the view. A roundish face appeared as well, the familiar, heart-shaped face of the lady. All in all, it looked much like a male’s face. But this was not easily confirmed, as for a split second later, the lady had turned. This immediately warranted a suspicious frown on the butler’s features. He’d just seen a male’s face, hadn’t he? He wasn’t delusional, that much was certain; he wasn’t the type to doubt himself. Frowning, Amadeo twirled the foil in his hand, contemplating on whether or not to confirm it. Never, and never had there been a case like this in the history of this school.

A hand shot out, foil and all, to land on the lady’s shoulder. Amadeo’s next words were low, careful, and menacing. “Who’s an imbecile, my Lady? I don’t believe a deceiver such as yourself has the right to insult me.[/color]” In actuality, Amadeo was only slightly angered (due to his whole I-hate-deception policy), but mostly, he was intrigued. He just found that the threatening route often achieved things faster.[/color]
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tag ; ; noire/ciel/night <3
words ; ; 1192
muse ; ; dead
music ; ; none
comments ; ; no actually, my muse was dead. I'm sure this was just gibberish. xD

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

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FORGETTING ALL THE HURT INSIDE
you've learned to hide so well

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Deceiving was in the nature of humans; something they did even if they were the most pure of souls. That wasn't saying that Night was an innocent soul, in fact, he was quite the opposite. He knew he was deceiving others but continued to do so for his own benefit. What was the harm? It was a cycle of sorts; people would deceive each other, and in doing so would end up deceiving themselves. The method, source, and reason varied from person to person, but the concept was the same. Everyone had something to hide, something they didn't want anyone else to know, and deceiving others was often the only way they found that had satisfactory results. Night hadn't wanted to have to use the method of deceiving people to live, but it wasn't as though he had been given much of a choice.

He narrowed his eyes at the wall in front of him, his concentration on the inside shifting as he sifted through different thoughts. Even though Night didn't know him very well, he could say with absolute certainty that Amadeo was a deceiver. From the short amount of time they had conversed in the library, even from what he had heard from the man here, it seemed as though he wasn't as he seemed. If Night were to guess, he'd say that the butler had turned his back on the human race, if the fact that he spoke of other's as if he were excluded from the population was anything to go off of. And then there was that largely polite air, one that had probably earned him favor with quite a few ladies. Yet it seemed utterly fake to Night, almost as much as his own politeness. Of course, that could actually be his mannerisms at work, but if he was right, Amadeo wasn't polite to be considerate. He was polite to be spiteful.

Coincidence? Night rolled his eyes slowly, though he was still facing away from the man. "I think what I am doing here is quite obvious, dear butler, unless you have an intelligence level as low as yours." His tone dropped to it's casual, sarcastic tone, though there was still the slight strain due to his strung nerves. With a vague sigh, Night shrugged his shoulders, as if to say it were a useless feat to make this man more knowledgeable. "I suppose you could say it were coincidence, but whether I believe it or not doesn't matter. Nor does your apology, on that note." He shook his head slightly, careful to keep his face turned away from the light, hardly acknowledgeable sounds the butler made while moving. Night's rash nature may have caused this, but he didn't have to let it move any further. Now if only his feet would listen to reason and move. The longer he stayed around the butler, the more of a chance the latter would have of realizing the truth. Overall, staying did not seem like that pleasant of a concept.

With small, shuffling steps, Night made his way slowly towards the door, though he tried to make it as inconspicuous as he could. At the man's words, though, he stopped, placing his hands on his hips. "Weakness, sir Robespierre, is not only common among humans. It's necessary. If humans did not have weakness, then they would not be humans, but they would also not be gods. Such a deity makes as many mistakes as we humans do. After all, they created our race to begin with, and probably highly regret this fact." He frowned slightly, glancing towards the door. Night himself wasn't a religious person; his father may have been a devoted Catholic, but his son was as much of an atheist as one could find. It had never been something he had been interested in; religion was a science of pure speculation, with hardly any facts that weren't discovered to begin with there to support the claims made.

Night took another deep breath before glancing at the door once again. He knew that in order to be able to make it out and away from Amadeo, he'd need a significant head start. He wasn't the fastest person to have ever existed and, coupled with his short height, highly doubted he could outrun the tall man. That was, of course, if he went after him. It was always possible that Night's predictions of the man's personality, being that he would always hunt for answers, was quite wrong. He wasn't the best at reading others, after all. One more wary glance at the door was all he needed to dissuade him from running for it; with his poor endurance coupled with the fact that his body had already been overworked while training meant and he knew he'd never make it. He let out sigh of frustration before crossing his arms over his chest, pondering another way out of his current situation.

The hand that clamped on his shoulder was unexpected. Night immediately froze up, his eyes widening as chills ran up his spine. This truly wasn't good. Whenever someone touched him, there was always a chance they could discover his secret, and since this man was already suspicious of him, the likelihood of such a thing increased significantly. With a sigh of resolve, he turned his head slightly away from the hand, careful not to turn too far, before briskly brushing the offensive appendage off his shoulder with a bit of force. "From one deceiver to another, sir Robespierre, an insult is likely to be true. Just as the rest of humanity deceives, you and I are no exception to the norm." Night's tone turned slightly icy and punctual. "Now, if you don't mind, there is such a thing as personal space, and I do believe you are invading mine." He crossed his arms over his chest before taking a few steps forward, solving the case of light-headedness he had seemed to accumulate instantaneously.

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STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Plot-buddeh Amadeo
WORDS: 997 (not bad for a shot muse~)
OUTFIT: This...ish >.>
LYRICS: Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park
CREDIT: RETRO GLAMOUR ! @ CAUTION 2.0

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

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[/b][/size]
I'll reach one hand out to you,[/size][/color]
And in the other, I hold a dagger.[/color][/size][/font]
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“Your faith and belief in me is quite endearing; I’m honoured,” the butler replied in a low voice, a smile playing around his lips. Oh, how he loved sarcasm. It was just one of the many things that he applied in his speech so often that one could even say that he used it daily, and sometimes, it would be so incorporated into his speech that he wouldn’t have even noticed using it in the first place. Sometimes it turned out to be a good thing; it helped him think fast, on his feet, and easily give out compliments and insults in one fell swoop. Other times, however, it would be annoying, accidentally saying something you didn’t mean to. But really, it benefitted him most of the time, and he enjoyed using it so much to a point that there was rarely ever a “real” conversation with him – real being one that was completely straightforward, without twists and turns, without riddles and cryptic problems; just an outward, normal, direct conversation. In his opinion, life got a little too boring without adding a little spice in it, and what better way to do that than make someone else’s head spin while his was perfectly intact and rational? A little sadism here and there never really hurt anyone, did it? “I take it that you’re normally this crabby, or am I just a special case?

[/color]” He smiled, making complete eye contact with the lady’s back side. It annoyed him a bit not to be able to talk face to face, but there was a reason for this action, he was sure. And as he’d already resolved a while back, neither of them were to leave this room until he’d piece it all together, and lay his bothered curiosity to rest.

Weakness, weakness. Defined from the root “weak”, it implied a state of fragility, of frailty. To someone like Amadeo, it never did any good to show it, for others who were more insane and cowardly than anything else could much too easily take advantage of that, and twist it to their own needs in order to be able to take control of others who normally wouldn’t be able to be controlled. It was always important to show a strong face in public; humanity was full of scavengers who would take and pick every single little scrap they could. They called it survival of the fittest, but to him, it was nothing more than cowardice – using others in other to boost themselves up. How much more cowardly could one be? It was thusly important to show that stable side, even if one was slowly crumbling and decaying on the inside. Even if Miss Dymonde here would not outright admit it, there was no denying the fact that it existed; sadly, even for him. What that weakness was exactly, he preferred not to talk about it; even, he preferred not to even think about it. By adopting this philosophy, it often made his downside almost indiscernible, as it was rarely ever brought up after being buried so deeply through years of experience. “I rightfully agree, my Lady. That is what I implied. I do bow before your knowledge.[/color]” He smirked, lowering his head in a mock bow. His fun had started again.

It was only for that odd moment, that off moment of revelation that had caused the butler in black to raise suspicion. Following after that feeling, he’d raced after the lady in one of his stealthy movements, one in which his footsteps could barely be heard travelling over the padded floor. A hand was laid on the lady’s shoulders, and harsh and almost threatening words were spoken. It was then shaken off by the lady’s action and speech, to which in reply, he did nothing at first but frown. A deceiver, him? Impossible. Alright, perhaps he had charaded his way into places, but never would be consider it deceiving. Why would he become that of which he hated so much? No, he thought of it as putting on an act, upon which his sanity was on the line. He never deceived; perhaps except for those few three or four times. Most of the time, his intentions were often readable and obvious, making those intentions blatantly obvious by his sarcastic comments and tactlessness. As such, these words angered him somewhat, but he was determined to keep it under control. He had never lost his temper in front of a lady, and he wasn’t about to start now. So instead, he willingly released the lady, a sigh escaping his lips and an exasperated look on his face. He allowed her a few steps forward, before realizing that there might never be a chance like this again.

From behind the lady, the foil in his hand short forth with such force that the strands of hair on her pretty head swooshed wildly. It landed tip first into the ground, balancing itself to form a sort of diagonal blockade in front of her. Without saying much else, Amadeo calmly walked around the lady with large, graceful steps, in front of the sword. As he made eye contact with her, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Caught off-guard, a look of complete shock froze on his face, and the only words he could say were, “Who are you?[/color]”[/color]
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tag ; ; noire/ciel/night <3
words ; ; 891
muse ; ; medium <<
music ; ; Anata no Koe - Sebastian Character Song
comments ; ; Here we go~

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[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
FORGETTING ALL THE HURT INSIDE
you've learned to hide so well

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Endearing? He had to be joking. Sure, the sarcastic tone in his voice made it completely obvious, but who said such unnecessary things, even if they didn't mean them? Night rolled his eyes before switching his tone to a slightly higher, falsely overjoyed one, though it still dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, that's fantastic! It's absolutely my goal in life to inflate your ego as full as possible." He paused, coughing slightly to return to his normal tone, before continuing. "Unfortunately, it appears as though someone, more than likely yourself, has beat me to the task." With a smirk and a small shrug that conveyed his false sense of disappointment, he took a few small steps forward, keeping the blood flowing in his body. His muscles were starting to complain at the switch from activity to stillness in such a short amount of time.

The next words brought him to a pause, though. Was he crabby? Well, one could say yes; he certainly wasn't the cheeriest person in the academy. But one could also say he wasn't; he simply spoke his mind with no regard for the feelings of others. He frowned slightly before leaning his head slightly to the side, considering the question. "I don't think one person truly has the ability to judge their own being or emotions, so I can't really answer your question." He shrugged simply, pacing a few more steps before a small smirk grew steadily onto his features. "However, dear butler, I can answer it to a certain point. There is no such thing as special. There's always something similar to whatever person or object is being called such, just like there's someone like you out there." Night hummed lightly under his breath, considering his next words. "You aren't a special case. Just an annoying one." With that, he waved his hand, dismissing the subject from his mind.

Weaknesses were never something that people paused to consider; they always thought about their strengths, about what made them a better person in their views. Didn't weaknesses also help to define a person, though? If people would actually seek to use their weaknesses to their advantage, or possibly even correct them, then it would make their strengths just that much more stable. It also let a person learn more about themselves, which Night could understand a person shying away from. But he also acknowledged his weaknesses, and that he had them, though he wasn't likely to share them with another person. One of his weaknesses had always been his pride; the mocking tone in Amadeo's voice was enough to make him grit his teeth, clenching his hands at his side while taking a deep breath to calm down. Yet he didn't rise to the bait, and instead just glared at the wall in front of him, careful not to say anything.

Night wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting the man to do; hell, he hadn't even known what he was going to do himself. But he certainly would never have guessed that the man would use his fencing foil to trap him. His muscles, strained from their overuse froze with adrenaline as the foil flashed in front of him, close enough to send his hair scattering from the force. His eyes widened significantly, about the only thing he could manage until the realization flashed through his mind. He had been caught. Found out. Exposed. With that quick thought, he immediately shifted his gaze into another one of his blank stares in enough time to meet the butler's gaze, the single blue iris defiantly staring back at the two red ones. He wasn't sure what caused it, but he took a step back, enough to grant himself some personal space, before narrowing his eyes at the man.

"You ask who I am, yet you know the answer. I am Nightingale Ashes Dymonde." Night's tone grew confident as he continued, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "I do not lie, sir Robespierre. I am who I say I am. What that entails is all decided by the observer. What I say I am, but not who, changes from person to person, much as the opinion of who I am changes." He narrowed his eyes slightly, glaring at Amadeo through his bluish hair, though the black cloth covering his right eye lessened, or mabe improved, the effect. His posture screamed his pride over who he was, not name-wise, but mentally. For no one could really change Nightingale Dymonde, though they may try with different clothes and wigs. It just wouldn't work. In fact, he had proven it doesn't work. He had known from the start that he didn't make a very convincing lady, but hadn't realized just how much more comfortable and confident he felt being himself. It was an outstanding feeling.

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STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Plot-buddeh Amadeo
WORDS: 805
OUTFIT: This...ish >.>
LYRICS: Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park
CREDIT: RETRO GLAMOUR ! @ CAUTION 2.0

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

- - - - - - - - - -

[/b][/size]
I'll reach one hand out to you,[/size][/color]
And in the other, I hold a dagger.[/color][/size][/font]
- - - - - - - - - -[/b][/size][/center]

Oh, what a remarkable example of sarcasm, Amadeo thought to himself. It was one that rivalled even his own, although hers seemed to be used more often for giving ignoramus replies and biting insults that matched her personality and attitude very well. His, on the other hand, was more or less used to coax his sadistic side, almost as a sort of compensation and outlet for it. It would do no good for it to be stored up; last time it had been, he’d ended up blowing off some steam on some unsuspecting female who wasn’t even a lady (albeit she went to this school, but still, non-ladies really didn’t belong here, in his opinion). It was interesting to see how his shrewd, tactless comments were equally reflected and rebounded back to him. But what he found more intriguing was the fact that the female actually persevered through his presence. She hadn’t sent him away yet (ok, well, maybe she had, but it didn’t seem like she tried too hard), and this fact in itself astounded him. If she really wanted, she could have already left the vicinity and not even spared him a second glance, as what most ladies did when they found something they did not like (which, by the way, was usually never him). Despite his cool and effortless comments, she preferred to stick around and engage in a battle of words with him. It was almost as though they matched each others’ personalities perfectly; him, being the sadistic man that he was, and she, the masochistic person that she seemed to be. He could only conclude “masochistic” from the fact that she hadn’t run away yet and instead, braved through his comments. Then again, he could be wrong, but he was usually never far off from the mark, and he didn’t think he was off on this one as well.

“Aw, I’m so thankful you care so much about me,” he muttered, his face twisting into that of an expression of pity, pretending to be taken aback by a huge compliments (that was virtually nonexistent, as any idiot could tell, even without the sarcastic tone in her voice). A gloved hand met his chest and he bowed quickly while he smiled, never leaving eye contact with the lady. “I’m not worthy of such attention, the lowly butler that I am. Many thanks, my Lady. I’ll be sure to repay you.

[/color]” He smirked at the last comment, knowing full well that by “repaying” her would be nothing short of insulting her and prodding and poking at her every time he would ever encounter her, which, if one thought about it, wasn’t too bad considering that there were only a few first years this year, and since he was to serve all of them, well... One didn’t have a genius to find out that “coincidence” would really be the reason for him to run into her in the future. What he didn’t know, however, was how deep, how much to the extent his words would ring true. To him, it was only a game, but to the gods of fate, it would be one that he would be so enticed into playing that he might never even stop.

Although it was true that the saying “everyone is unique” was a rather useless and obsolete saying in itself, seeing as how everyone being unique would make no one unique, Amadeo believed that to each person, they held their own distinct personality. There were never two things completely the same, but so many generalizations could be made that it was almost hard to tell one human apart from another. A prime example would be what he thought of most humans: deceptive, selfish, and power-hungry. Of course, that would not ring true for everyone, but it was these overgeneralizations that often got people to overlook that in fact, there was something different about everyone. In the general sense of the word, having everyone unique would make no one special, that is, if you looked at it in the broad sense of the word. However, if one were to look deeper into it, compare two people at a time, one could see that in fact, there were special people out there. It was something he rarely believed in; perhaps he’d met one out of the hundreds of ladies he’d served that he could consider “special”. However, his pessimism in the human race often clouded that view of his, and he would forget about it, but oftentimes someone would come along and dutifully remind him. This time, that person seemed to be this lady. Even one such as him could admit that she was... different. So then in response to her answer, he merely smiled, and nodded. It was true; he was annoying her, and he knew it. But then again, wasn’t that the whole point?

The next thing he knew, Amadeo had thrown a foil in front of the lady, successfully stopping her in her tracks and walking around her. His first reaction was surprise. Alright, honestly, who wouldn’t be? Instead of seeing the face of a high-strung lady, his eyes met the single eye of a male. It took all he could for his mouth not to drop open, so he had settled for staring at him with an intense gaze that matched the one the male was giving him. Really then, he hadn’t been delusional back then; he really had seen a male’s face. But... why? What was his purpose here? This... Nightingale, apparently. The moment’s shock passed, and the butler was able to gather the rest of his wild thoughts to form coherent enough sentences.

Settling instead with a more subtle reaction, one of Amadeo’s black eyebrows rose, his face all seriousness, and none of the mockery he had shown prior to his “discovery”. “You speak of special being nonexistent, yet you...[/color]” He paused, his eyebrows now furrowing as one gloved hand rested itself below his chin as his thoughts assembled themselves. “My instincts were right, after all.[/color]” The silence was then broken by his clacking heels as he strode back and forth in front of the lady, never leaving “his” sight. He paused after five whole seconds, before turning to the lady with a lighter look on his face. “Ehehe, you’re a special case aren’t you, Ms. Dymonde? Don’t deny it; your face, and I mean it quite literally, says it all.[/color]”

“Is it really that pleasurable to be lady?[/color],” he chuckled lightly, but there was no laughter in the voice, still seriousness embedded in it. However, his tone was still exceedingly sarcastic, as were all his “comments”. “You talk of my ego, while yours is... ah, how should I put this? Oh, right. Were you so discontent as a member of the opposite sex? I... would understand, of course. Your female features betray otherwise.[/color]” With these words, the butler seemed t have already gotten over the shock, but in reality, he hadn’t. It was just his sadistic nature showing through again.

Crimson eyes bore into the male’s eye as he continued to assess the situation. What was occurring? Why was there a male in this Academy? Butlers and staff aside, only ladies were allowed in. So why was it that this one was here? But before he could ask any of these questions, a singular, prominent thought pushed itself from his brain, and before he could help it, the tension was broken as Amadeo laughed rather heartily, the sound echoing around the room. “Might I add, you do make an attractive female.[/color]” He tilted his head sideways and gave “Ms.” Night a large smile – a look of innocence that said sarcasm all at once.[/color]
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tag ; ; noire/ciel/night <3
words ; ; 1287
muse ; ; high!
music ; ; Anata no Koe - Sebastian Character Song
comments ; ; I swear my muse is highest either late at night or when I'm REALLY hungry (which is what I am atm <.<). There ya go, witty Am. xD

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