|
|
Post by ANNABELLE VALLANCE on Mar 2, 2010 15:58:05 GMT -5
Cleaning was something else Annabelle enjoyed doing in her spare time - in fact, it was all she ever knew during the first years of her adolescent youth. Children were told to play outside with their friends and have adventures of make believe while Annabelle took comfort in staying behind. No one had a desire to play with her; not because of her appearance or status in family, it was just . . . difficult to communicate with other children when she didn't have the voice. Most of the children didn't even know how to read yet so creating simple notes for them to read proved their true worth to them, nothing what so ever. At first, she didn't know how to respond to their distant behavior but soon came to accept these terms, remaining inside the home and busying her ever flowing thoughts with cleaning. Often she would help the maids, the only people who bothered to understand her, even preparing a few dinner courses if they were too busy. Of course this little pleasure was kept a secret from the family, knowing they frowned upon anyone who didn't take their fortune to full advantage. But that is what butlers are for, Anna, they do all these things for you.
How right, indeed. Now that Lesflores emerged as her appointed butler, it wasn't necessary to clean, cook and wash for herself. What was she to do now with all this free time? A slick popping noise aroused the maiden back to reality, observing a completely wet sock flopped to the ground whilst he made himself more comfortable. Annabelle gazed at his face with a blank expression on her face, as if awaiting him to finish and make himself comfortable within the warm depths of the couch. She didn't have plans to stay once he rested - knowing resting alongside a boy had to be some sort of sin in the Bible, even if it wasn't listed - something about it just didn't seem right. Just before he inclined to rest though his body suddenly began to fall above hers, the shadow of his looming figure startled her enough to have a struggled yelp escape but nothing more. Thanks to his speed maneuvering their bodies came easy enough but confused the daylights out of poor Annabelle, growing dizzy after a full spin to change their positions. And just like that, the world turned to black.
"................" Darkness, a complete void. She couldn't see anything in front of her face and her whole world felt suffocating, as if air wouldn't properly flood into her lungs. Why wasn't she afraid? This void of darkness felt so warm to the touch, intoxicating even, as a distant smell arose to her small nose. Was it a spice of some sort, fresh grown grass? Although she couldn't figure out which smell it was, it smelled heavenly - so inviting in fact that she brought her face closer to its location. Firm yet pulsating with life, comfortable and soiled to the touch . . . what was this thing? As if trapped inside the walls of a dream she continued to move forward against the object, slowly dipping her slender curves atop the rest. Her small mouth opened with slight surprise, feeling more warmth come in contact with her body but lower until reaching her lower waist. Between her thighs, rather. As perverse as it felt she couldn't help but feel drawn to it; imagining it was her blanket from the bedroom and quickly wrapped her milky white thighs around it. Little did she know those legs would be wrapping around his waist during this small dream of hers.
|
|
|
|
Post by LESFLORES DORIAN MINETTE on Mar 2, 2010 23:14:03 GMT -5
Assulted by suicide snowflakes [/color][/font] melting against a jacket[/font][/center]
’Oi, little boy, did ya fall down?’ A phantasm lingered in the back of his thoughts, the whiff of a ghost long dead. Careless, the entire thing could have been so careless. Trying to shake the reemerging thoughts from his head, Lesflores fell in almost comically slow motion. At least, to him it seemed as such. Pivoting on his heel, he managed to just avoid crashing into the frail Lady sitting in the way of his falling arc. Breaking her now, on accident, would be no fun at all, would it? He shot his arm out in reflex, he knew that the fall wouldn’t hurt and yet his body still reacted. He hated not having control over that, it led to such disasters.
His hand gripping her shoulder, the entire calamity swung into a fast pace frenzy. Pulling the slender Anna down as he hit the lush cushion, the delighted deceiver couldn’t believe his luck. One can plan, plan for days and months and years, and never manage to pull off something so flawlessly accidental. He had tried, time and time again, to trip into a lover and each time he could feel that flaws building in his wake. Something about an true accident, perhaps the rushing feeling of defenselessness or the utter surprise, he just couldn’t master. The devilish butler hated not being in absolute control of a situation and yet fortune had decided to favor him with one simple sliding sock.
The soft body pressing into him tested his ever ounce of self-control. A serpent’s tongue ran in his mind, ”Here she is, just take her. Fuck the planning, fuck the contrived shattering, and just fuck her.” Biting on his tongue until a trace of blood ran freely, he hushed the frenzied whisper running through his mind. There was no point to the sex yet, although the warmth from the angelic figure resting on top of him and the scent rising from those blonde strands invited him in. The pallid haired youth could feel himself flushing, the blood rushing to his skin and awaiting with anticipation the act his body had come so used to. His mind repeatedly fought the arising situation, forcing the butler to speak an apology after the countless moments of heavy silence.
”I’m terribly so---” the girl stirring stopped him midway through a carefully acted apology. She was pressing closer to him, nearly nuzzling into his neck. Control had slipped away from him and the sociopath was dumbstruck by the sudden change, he’d been wrong again. He cursed his luck, his mind quickly deciding that he was dealing with another spontaneous girl. Problematic and hard to reel in, he knew the type well. Had spent months trying to tame one unfortunate girl who had caught his eyes just a year ago. The thought of going through the harrowing process made his lips curl in unpleasantness.
Her legs wrapping around his waist, the lustful Lesflores couldn’t help but indulge himself in the temptation. His hand ran down the girls back, slowly inspecting every inch it traveled. His other hand, freed from it’s entombment in the space between cushion and couch, found itself entangled in the girl’s hair. ”Annabelle…” he whispered, barely speaking with any hint of passion. His right hand barely maneuvering around the outside of the girl’s nearly perfect backside, the tips of his fingers dancing around the clothed skin of her upper thigh, pinching and pulling the cotton layer slowly. ”Annabelle….?” he asked quietly, a hushed whisper. She hadn’t given any sign of acknowledging him earlier and now he was fearful. What was going on inside that head of hers? He knew she couldn’t answer him vocally, she couldn’t call his name back and he couldn’t trust any whimper or low sigh of pleasure. He wanted to see her eyes, for her to look at him. He wanted to see the intent and resolve that burned there, just as he had looked into the eyes of countless others. The fingers on his right hand danced along the naked skin of her exposed thigh, the dress lifted just enough to uncover her long thin legs. ”Just take her, who cares about this little game? Just get on top and take what you want.” The voice resounded, given power by the soft skin his fingers stroked. ’No, I’ll take my time. Why rush to the finish when you can enjoy the race?’ the curled lips gave a sense of disturbing pleasure, a façade relaxing and wild intent lingered on the boy's smooth lips. He’d enjoy her to the fullest.
/
[/font][/color]
Word Count~781
[/u] Tags~ Annabelle Notes~ Poem~ Bitter Biting Cold: R. Douglas[/color][/size][/font] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by ANNABELLE VALLANCE on Mar 2, 2010 23:41:49 GMT -5
Sky blue fabric stretched underneath and slowly lifted to reveal smooth, creme virgin flesh - all for his to caress and glace whilst she fell in a dream like state. She didn't realize he was whispering her name or that his hands were scandalously moving across forbidden grounds. What would happen if she awoke to observe his physical appreciation of her body? Perhaps a firm slap and further detention far away from her - creating their relationship strained if not completely broken. Dearest Annabelle found it so hard to trust. Once someone betrayed her will and deep bond she shared as friendship - there wasn't any returning to what once began as a pure relationship.
Pale lips opened to release a soft yawning noise before snuggling closer to his frame, wrapping tender digits about his soiled clothing like a newborn babe. She had fallen asleep. From the sudden pressure of his body and her weak stability of staying away for more than a few hours, the final straw from his added pressure only sent her in a small state of rest. After all such activity and over stressing from meeting her new butler, she had exhausted herself so terribly. Slender legs smoothed across his lower waist and curled in a small fetal position.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by LESFLORES DORIAN MINETTE on Mar 3, 2010 0:05:21 GMT -5
Assulted by suicide snowflakes [/color][/font] melting against a jacket[/font][/center]
The sinning butler, breaking every trace of trust his Lady could have held for him and every code of conduct set forth by the school, caressed the previously untouched skin of Annabelle. The practically forbidden flesh gave him such a thrill, though her complete lack of reaction left him confused. It wasn’t until a soft yawn, barely audible beneath his own quickening breathing, that he realized his own careless mistaken. His hands freed themselves from their precious jobs and he let loose a heavy sigh. Had he gone any further, he would have lost for the first time. His mind had been impassioned by what he had mistaken for the girl’s own lust and he’d given in. The small frame slowly crawling into a ball on his waist was merely asleep, perhaps the sudden movement had been too much for her. Such an absolutely frail young woman.
”Dammit…” he whispered to himself as he took great care in cradling the sleeping girl in his arms easily. Swinging his feet to the floor, the butler stood and walked swiftly to the young girl’s bed. Holding her sleeping frame closely to him for just a few seconds, he lowered and arm and pulled back the covers to her bed. ”You gave me a scare, sleeping beauty.” he cooed, a lullaby to help the maiden sleep as he placed her in the bed, ”Nearly ruined me too.” Pulling the white sheet and the pastel comforter over Annabelle, Lesflores turned his back on her. ”But rest assured, it was just a precursor of things to come. Sweet dreams, dear Annabelle.” A cold and vicious smile sprayed words so sweet like poetic bullets. He’d cut down anyone who happened to caught his eye.
”They’ll know my revenge by those fools crawling after me and crying my name in ecstasy.” The devil inside of him spoke, washing him with an intense nausea. Revenge, a word used as an aimless plot device, made him so sick to his stomach that he would have to sit and regain his strength. He’d never speak of the matter, no. Never again. They had their chance to listen and no one had. He was just a young and creative mind sprouting forth stories. They had their chance to listen to him and left him unheard. And he wouldn’t stop until every voice was crying his name abysmally, a chorus of agony behind him calling to mind wraith and horror. The ghostly whiff of a memory came to mind, a respectable friend of the family inspecting his bloodied knee, ’Oi, did ya fall down, boy? Here, come with me. I’ll help you.’ A hand grasping his, leading him where ever the man had wanted.
Just like he did now.
/
[/font][/color]
Word Count~781
[/u] Tags~ Annabelle Notes~ Poem~ Bitter Biting Cold: R. Douglas[/color][/size][/font] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by ANNABELLE VALLANCE on Mar 3, 2010 0:45:58 GMT -5
In a gentle sweep the blond maiden was carried from the couch to her comfortable bed, slipped in between clean and warm sheets as if a prince had taken care of her during restful slumber. Annabelle didn't stir from this change of position yet her brows furrowed gently from the lack of warmth, the object she had desperately clung to for comfort went missing. Thankfully the bed was littered with large pillows for her to grasp and cling to whilst turning in slumber, restless eyelids fluttering to the musical melody of her heartbeat. Even as he gently cooed the truth of his lies and secret intentions of becoming her faithful butler, they went unnoticed as her dreams stole her away in another world all together. She would never remember of this moment again and perhaps it was for the best; if she had found out his secret conversation with her - what would she do? Lose faith in all humanity perhaps or become so spiteful with Lesflores that even he wished he'd been born a mute instead.
Even in the realm of dreams she found herself thinking about Lesflores, imagining his platinum white hair and vibrant crimson eyes drowning under blankets of snow. Trapped by will. Waiting for death. Enjoying the pain. Who are you? Annabelle felt her slumbering body twitch with response, suddenly realizing how dangerous it was to be dreaming of a man. Let alone her own butler. How did mystery and beauty learn to become one entity inside of a young man to appeal to the mute maiden so? She found herself thinking of his intense stare while his mouth spilled nothing but kind speech, even though they both knew that's not how he would really speak to someone. It was his job after all to appeal to his lady and make sure his personal faults were kept in line. It went as regret to dream of someone she'd just met and more so not know a thing about him besides his appearance and status as a C graded butler. Annabelle wondered of the other lady's he must have served and dutifully, using her natural sense of humility to imagine these women more beautiful and entertaining as she.
A small vibration, slight stirring created between slumbering flesh and clean bedsheets. At first it occurred as an annoyance and she still found herself resting peacefully, tearing away the vibration as if it were a bothersome creature. Then suddenly another tune rang into the air, allowing the owner to know of the phone alarm set so she would awake early. ".........." Annabelle struggled to lift her head upwards to spy the time on the phone screen, slowly drinking in the early hour of being awoke to soon specify just how much time she had before making to her next class. "!!!!" Words couldn't describe the pure dramatic horror she was feeling right now, the time clicking past the twelve o clock point and following closely to lunch break. How long had she been sleeping in? Just when did she finally turn into bed? Where was Lesflores? Where did he sleep? Possessed by millions of questions she flew out of the bed in a silent storm, quickly placing together the school uniform despite it's small flaws of an untucked shirt, ruffled skirt and wrinkled socks. There wasn't time for that now! But oh, how hungry she felt, the small growling of her stomach crying with anguish of not being fed it's daily breakfast. |
|
|
|
Post by LESFLORES DORIAN MINETTE on Mar 3, 2010 23:23:03 GMT -5
Assulted by suicide snowflakes [/color][/font] melting against a jacket[/font][/center]
Pacing the room in frustration, Lesflores found himself enraged with himself. How close had he come to destroying the change to use such a great piece in his game? Had he gone further the sleeping maiden would have woken with mute fright and panic and, though she wouldn’t be able to call for help, he’d have to flee from the school. There would have been no reconciliation. With this energy building from his self-loathing, the butler began to pick up the odds and ends his Lady had tried to hide to make the room appear cleaner. Wearing himself out with the menial work, Lesflores found the work slowly erased the tension. Sighing and realizing that with his Lady asleep he wouldn’t be able to easily leave and come back in, he flopped onto the couch with and closed his eyes.
His mind ran through his day, from the peaceful falling snow in the night to the almost hectic meeting with Annabelle. So far, he had preformed fairly poor. Barely hanging on to any thread of connection he had with her, he had to be much more careful. With a relaxed sigh, his red eyes fluttered open and gazed at the ceiling. The dark temporary room was unfamiliar and he was only human, no matter how much he tossed or turned there was some nerve that was wired to stay awake. Something about not being in his bed kept him on edge.
He didn’t keep track how long it took him to fall asleep but eventually he fell into a peaceful darkness. His mind a blank slate. Had his Lady woken up shortly after he’d fallen asleep, laying on the couch without any blanket or pillow, and watched him during his slumber she could have easily guessed at the nature of his dreams. Slowly curling into a ball, his face darkly scrunched, the obvious signs of a nightmare. Locked away in his head was a man with a bloody smile running across his neck. A mirror, shattering as a young man was viciously thrown into it. A disembodied cry from somewhere distant as the snow haired young boy moved through into the immense darkness, charging the monster that dwelt just beyond the veil of his imagination. Tossing and turning, he was in obvious distress. A light layer of sweat forming on his brow, the boy was lost in the ghosts of his past. His arms clutched his side, the devil, lost in his own hellish night mare, hugged himself in desperation. How defenseless did he look? To anyone watching, they might reach out and have him break, disappear into dust and fade away. The nightmare continued well until the morning, his breathing heavy and his face tight with horror. The pitiful youth could only replay the same event, over and over. Rarely did he dream so terribly but something during the day has sparked the phantasms of his mind to haunt him so.
/
[/font][/color]
Word Count~497
[/u] Tags~ Annabelle Notes~ Poem~ Bitter Biting Cold: R. Douglas[/color][/size][/font] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by ANNABELLE VALLANCE on Mar 4, 2010 15:55:46 GMT -5
New yet unwashed clothes were placed on with sloppy detail, each slipper struggling to fit on let alone match each other as she scurried through the rooms - attempting to place together a decent outfit less to create attention. Wisps of blond hair passed as a blur before she finally ceased to gaze herself in the mirror located in her bathroom, glistening hues glazing over her lazily dressed figure with a certain contempt. Annabelle was a little annoyed with Lesflores, having no memory of being tucked in bed and he didn't even bother to wake her up for the daily schedule! Now she was going to be late for certain. With an exasperated sigh she turned on heel and ventured into the living room where he was most likely sleeping on the couch, proving her suspicions right when she found his silhouette lazily perched on each cushion.
Both hands positioned themselves from the base of her narrow hips while her right foot began to tap against the ground, as if expecting him to awake from his dreams and stand in position. Yet as the minutes flew by and his face twisted in pain, she suddenly became concerned. Instantly the young woman was on her knees to closely inspect, taking note from his constant brow seating and uneasy grunts that he was experiencing a bad dream. A nightmare, even. Brows furrowed with obvious disdain when she realized he didn't sleep for the whole night rather just stay in this dream like state. Slowly and gently she slowly stretched a gentle hand to him, using all her careful tactics to place it upon his face. But suddenly, before she had any time to react, his arms were upon his waist in a death like coil - swinging his lank figure back and forth.
Annabelle, being the easily frightened girl that she is, jolted with surprise and pulled back - merely watching his painful stance with silent horror. Finally she couldn't take anymore of his self abuse and harshly pushed against his arm with a pestering hand, wondering just how strong she must be to even wake him up. Although she may have known him little from just meeting yesterday, she couldn't help but feel pity for him. What kind of person was he to experience such dreams and did he dream like this often? Concerned sea jewels mirrored a feign innocence as she continued to nudge him desperately, her fragile figure slowly crawling atop his so that her hands would have access to his entire figure.
|
|
|
|
Post by LESFLORES DORIAN MINETTE on Mar 4, 2010 16:40:42 GMT -5
Assulted by suicide snowflakes [/color][/font] melting against a jacket[/font][/center]
Lost in the dreamscape of his nightmare, Lesflores fought back internally. Attempting to recall anything other than such a vicious memory. Bringing up thoughts of travel, his own thumb stretched out to roads people barely used. Certainly even such a memory was better than this hellish vision. Clutching himself, his tossing and turning slowed into a frail attempt to wake. His body desperately wanted to escape such memories but his mind was locked into the depths of his sins. There was no remorse, no. Simply the overbearing feeling of failure and abandonment. A sharper mind might have managed to avoid the dilemma, but the butler had been quick to anger and quick to act on the emotion.
Something was touching him, prodding him. Even in his dreamland, he felt it. A swirl of worry built, the vapor of a ghost still caught up in his mind even if he had just escaped the dream stuck on repeat. He wanted to lash out but his arms stayed glued to his sides. The distortion of pain was slowly fading from his face but still this thing continued to shake him. ’Go away…’ his feeble mind thought, lost in the dementia and delirium of his past, ’Get out…’ But still the prodding continued. A warmth flowed across him, a light pressure that seemed to be calling for him to wake up.
”Get up, boy, I wasn’t that bad, was I?
His arms swung out, desperately clutching whatever it was inching it’s way over him. The words hung in his mind like a guillotine and his face buried into the shoulder of whoever was over him. Wide awake now, he refused to open his eyes. Who was in his room? He couldn’t remember taking anyone back last night. The boy’s sleep-filled mind shook the dust and cobwebs of the harrowing nightmare out and slowly began to crank into action. ’I didn’t go back yesterday… That’s right. I stayed in Annabelle’s room. Then… Shit.’ Pulling his face back, he recognized the amazing scent of his Lady and the blonde strands that had been caught beneath his face as well.
”Ah…” A tiny shock reverberated throughout his mind, why was it that whenever this girl was around anything that could go wrong did? Murphy’s law, he remembered. Releasing the girl from his hectic embrace, he could only cradle his face in one of his palms and look at her with one eye. ”…Sorry.” A low and quiet apology for something, he didn’t know what. Shaking his head and forcing himself to look away, he watched the sun drift in through a window. Speechless, he could only wait for his Lady’s absolute reaction to what had happened. He could only assume she’d seen something horrible while he slept, the horrified look on her face when he had pulled away spoke volumes. Even if she hadn’t been the one to wake him up, if he had slowly come out of the sleep paralysis on his own, he would have seen the obvious signs of disturbance.
His eyes glowed like dying embers in the sunlight, his face long and silent. His throat was dry and his tongue almost seemed like it was cracking from dehydration. Resting against the arm of the couch, Lesflores struggled to move away from the night terror. He had to rebuild his façade, pull himself together brick by brick. Glancing to a clock perched upon a shelf, he took note of the time. ”You’ll be late…” A hoarse voice, low and barely whispered escaped his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the girl fully. The embarrassment of it all was too much, far too much for him to recover from so quickly.
/
[/font][/color]
Word Count~634
[/u] Tags~ Annabelle Notes~ Poem~ Bitter Biting Cold: R. Douglas[/color][/size][/font] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by ANNABELLE VALLANCE on Mar 4, 2010 17:12:38 GMT -5
As a hawk swoops in to gather its unsuspecting prey, so did his arms fastening around her light figure and harshly bringing it dangerously close. "......!!?!" Almost like a wounded animal the young girl struggled without any noise besides a few grunts, sounding frail and almost disgusting to the ears. Pale hands pushed against his chest but found them weak when it came to Lesflores' surpassing strength, her bosom snuggled so tightly that his heart beat vibrated through. Delicate eyes widened and her breathing pattern snagged like a wrinkle in clothing, holding still as he continued to writhe until awakening from his own pain. Eventually his vice like grip released and his Lady was breath in oxygen once more, filling the air coat her lungs with reassurance that she would live another day. Despite her slight horror, though, she refused to move away or allow this subject to drop.
After a few moments to recollect her jumbled thoughts, she slowly rose from the carpet ground and brought a black ink pen into view; without a moment to spare she began to write upon the pale flesh of his hand before looking at his face. Annabelle's expression was bittersweet - a pitiful excuse for a smile and a gentle inclination towards his face, slowly brushing her smooth face against his. It was in short of a very comforting hug but of fear of arousing fear again, merely caressed flesh against flesh. Her succulent lips barely grazing his cheek before pulling away, allowing herself to leave out the door and attend the rest of her classes.
"Sit with me during lunch? : )" Smeared from sweat but still audible to read, a short yet sweet message written on his arm that would bring them together again. There wasn't any telling if he had her lunch schedule to begin with but now as Butler and Lady, he was sure to have pardon to visit her between classes and lunch breaks. But for now Annabelle understood he needed space to recollect himself, knowing it must have felt embarrassing to appear so broken in front of her. If at all it only gave her a silent reassurance that he had demons as well, just as she did, perhaps they had more in common than she originally imagined.
|
|
|
|
Post by LESFLORES DORIAN MINETTE on Mar 4, 2010 18:53:23 GMT -5
Assulted by suicide snowflakes [/color][/font] melting against a jacket[/font][/center]
Unable to even steal a glance at his Lady, Lesflores watched the snow falling outside of window. The flakes freely dancing with the sunlight. Taking in a gasp of air and releasing it slowly, the butler tried to steady his nerves. This was no way he’d be able to recover easily, he racked him mind and tried to find a way to use what she may have seen to his advantage. The terror on her face when he had finally looked spelled a disaster for him though. What could he do? Running a hand through his ash white disheveled hair, the boy tried hard to think as she sat and watched him with worried eyes. How could he think if she was staring at him so?
As the angel walked away, Lesflores could feel himself relax. Her lingering gaze had frozen any thoughts he might have had but his mind began calculating once again. The situation was bad, but not a train wreck. He would just have to figure out how it had looked to her, if he had been talking in his sleep. That would have been the worst case. With high hopes, he prayed he hadn’t mumbled any details of the dream. That hellish place he rarely visited. Why couldn’t he have slept peacefully as always?
Lesflores allowed himself to look at the lady, fishing around for something on a table. Biting his lip in frustration, he watched as she grasped a black pen and made her way back over. Taking his hand and quickly scribbling on the back of his hand in a quick swirl of her wrist. His breathing, once a rapid uncontrollable beast, slowly to a near halt as she faced him. Her smile a piteous slap in the face as she slid past and brushed against his cheek with hers. The butler was slightly taken aback, not expecting the Annabelle to attempt to comfort them. Why should she? She didn’t even know a damn thing about him. Her lips slowly dragged across his check, the corners barely touching his. What did it matter to her at all? The confused youth watched with pure delirium as the girl walked out of her room, leaving him alone.
Reading the note on his hand, he merely laughed. Laughed with a low and nearly anger growl. She pitied him. Standing with sluggish legs, he rushed out of the room and walked the opposite direction of her. He aimed for his room, just a six minute walk from the temporary dorms. Once inside, he rushed for the shower and spent nearly forty minutes under scolding water. He scrubbed the words from his hand until the flesh was raw and pink. He seethed anger even though his mind warned him he couldn’t be sure if she had been pitying him or if she was just concerned. The white walls were too aseptic after he finally turned the water off, the steamed mirror only reflected a glaring monster.
”Dammit!” walking into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, ripping a drawer open to pull out clean clothes. The butler’s room was white, unnaturally clean. As if he had nothing better to do when he was alone than scrub everything to a meticulous standard. Dressing in the normal butler attire, he paced the room frothing with impatience and frustration. He’d meet her for lunch, of course. He’d been given a copy of her schedule when he’d been assigned as her butler, so he knew where to be and when to go. It was the wait that killed him. He’d try to pry for information then. But until that, he sat on the edge of his bed with his true nature bubbling on his surface.
/
[/font][/color]
Word Count~
Tags~ Annabelle
Notes~
Poem~ Bitter Biting Cold: R. Douglas
[/size][/font] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
